Race report: It was sunny in Sunriver!

Well, I won.  And if that is all you need to know.... stop reading... now.  No, now.  No... now :-)  Oh, keep reading.  I promise you'll like the ending.

Erika, Bill, Marshall (the puppy), and I headed out of Corvallis on Friday afternoon. The logistics of a point-to-point race meant that we had to get our packets and set up T2 that day so that on race morning we didn't have to end up driving 70+ miles. Packet pick-up was pretty uneventful and switching out of my age group and into the elite wave proved to be merely a matter of finding the right blue-shirted person talking into a walkie-talkie. I dropped my shoes (tongues hanging out of course), Cola Clif Shot, race belt, and new Tribabe.com race visor (that awesomely matched my new suit) off at T2 in an out-of-the-way spot on the 1-20 bib-numbered rack. Then we folded ourselves into the car and drove the bike course in reverse to T1.
Seeing the bike course in reverse was beautiful, but you don't really get a feel for how steep the hills are or how long. But I was glad to have seen it before the race and it was pretty funny getting Bill's commentary on each turn while we were driving it. Parts of the road were lined with snow still. But the scenery! The ribbon of brand-new black top weaved through forests and around lakes and high desert prairies before climbing to the base of the ski slope at Mt. Bachelor.

The view from mile 20 on the bike section.

Our plan was to camp out somewhere near T1 and the start of the swim so that we could rack our bikes in the morning and not have to get up early to get ready and pack up the camping gear. "Near T1" turned out to be an understatement as we got the last spot in the campground that was essentially 1/4 mile away.

In the morning, we got up and wheeled our bikes over to T1, meeting up with the first of the racers to arrive from town (bunch of crazies that arrive more than 2 hours before the start... including several of the OSU crew including eventual winner Matt Lieto and runner-up Kirk Nelson from my old haunting grounds!). The sun had already been up for hours and I could feel the heat of the day beginning to gather. Bill and I walked back to our campsite and made breakfast. I had my traditional oatmeal + goodness + coffee and Bill wolfed down a chocolate eclair. Around 8:15, after packing up the car, applying liberal amounts of sunscreen, and saying bye to Erika and Marshal, we mosied on over to the start. I did a 10-minute jog up the road, stretched and then it was time to get into my wetsuit.

At the swim start, I stood on the dock with Erin Ford and met Kat Baker for the first time (even though we raced at Wildflower). We were just chatting away about racing and the weather when all of a sudden, the horn blew. We all whipped around, uttered a harmless expletive, pulled down our goggles and dove off the dock. Despite that, I had a pretty great as my dive got me right into the mix.

I was in a rhythm immediately, siting the far buoy on the first long straight-away (the middle buoy was slightly offset to the center and not in line) when I noticed a group of seven or eight swimmers from my wave way off to the left about 200 yds ahead of me. I continued to follow my line, all-the-while keeping an eye on them. Before long, they were back in-line with me and the buoy but now barely 20 yds ahead of me. I stopped and took a few backstroke pulls looking to see if I had missed a buoy on the course. Seeing nothing around me but the soul who was desperately clinging to my draft, I flipped back over and continued on, thankful I had learned to swim in a straight line early (thanks to Bettina!)

I came out of the swim feeling awesome and ran up the short ramp to my bike. I picked it out instantly with it's new white Specialized saddle (looking like a lighthouse beacon because it sits so high) that was meant to solve my girlie woes (Thank you, Tool! Tool is actually my friend Andrew and is a very good triathlete, but I have known him since he was 18 and unfortunately, the nickname stuck)... As I exited transition, Erika yelled that I was only 1:30 down on Erin and Kat was just :45 ahead of me. I yelled out, "you're kidding" and proceeded to do a terrible imitation of a flying mount.

The bike started out on rolling hills for about 15 miles before starting the fit-and-start ascent up Mt. Bachelor. I traded positions with an M-Dot on the bike, he passing me on the downhill and I passing him on the uphill. On one of his downhill passes, he yelled out "I'm maintaining 300 watts." When I passed him back, I yelled out "I'm racing". I don't think he liked that very much because on his next pass he put on a major surge, and I didn't see him for the rest of the race.

Aside: ...until afterward when he explained to me that he has done several Ironman races at that power and yadda, yadda, yadda. I am sure he is very nice. This is the second race that we have met up, but to each his own...I was trying to catch women, but only during the race.

By this time, it was staring to heat up. I caught and passed JoeB around the 15 mile mark and he told me I was doing really well on the bike. I encouraged him along and continued to power up the hill. About 5 miles later he passed me back, and yelled out "Now it is on". Thank God whatever "it" was that got turned on..I was really worried I had been going too fast. Because of the heat, I took ice water bottles at aid station 1 and 3 and poured these on my back and legs. Not even the cool air pockets coming off the snow could take the heat edge off the day. But after all the build-up of the climb, it only registered a 4.7 on my devastation scale (remember, I've done Flagstaff, repeatedly). At the top, I switched into the highest gear I had and prepared to bomb down the last 16 miles. And while it was a wickedly fast descent, between the newly straightened and paved road and the absence of most vehicles, a head wind kept me from opening it up much over 40 mph. And I cruised into Sunriver with an average of 21.0 mph for the 56 miles course.

In T2, I could see that careful placement of my shoes had come to no avail as there was a bike racked squarely on top of them. But, no matter, I racked my bike further down the rack, took off my helmet, and ran back for my stuff. I had no trouble getting all my elasticized pieces in place and I bounded out on to the run course.

At this point, I knew that I had passed Erin earlier on the bike, but I had never seen Kat and I wasn't sure if she was still in front of me or behind because of all the half-iron duathletes that had invaded the bike course while we swam and required passing. I decided to run like I was in second, but the bounding only lasted a half-mile as the waves of heat off the blacktop running path began to slow my steps. The first two aid stations only had warm water and Hammer Heed (nothing I have ever trained with) and not to mention the volunteer on his cell phone that I almost had to push out of the way to get at the drinks on the table. Then there was a long stretch to the third aid station in which I began to mentally write a letter to the race director about the hazards of not having ice and regular aid station on a 95 degree run in the sun at altitude. Somewhere in there, I finally spotted Kat and "convincingly " (or, so I thought) passed her. At station three which was actually closer to mile 4, there was cold water, ice, more Heed, and super helpful volunteers... and I had to start redrafting my letter :-)

It was about this time that I decided the best way to survive the heat was too walk through every aid station, taking on as much -ice cold water on my skin as possible.  I would leap-frog from aid station to aid station, spotting the ridiculously bright neon yellow T-shirts of the volunteers through the trees, spurring me on to certain cooling.  This lasted through mile 7 at which point I ran into Erika on the course.  She yelled for me to "dig deep" as Kat was right behind me.  I realized two things at this point.  One, I would come up empty-handed if I tried to dig deep and Kat had not been convinced when I passed her.  TIme for drastic measures.  I was dimly aware that the announcer had mentioned something about Red Bull at mile 8.  I decided then and there that all that caffeine-taurine-sugar-carbonated goodness would be mine.  I sprinted up to the station, grabbed the can, chugged every drop and slammed the empty into the trash can.  Two points!

The only immediate effect was the refreshment of drinking something ice cold.  But, within a mile I had a Red-Bull-induced 2nd wind that lasted 'til mile 12 and was enough to seal the deal on 1st place.  I cruised in the last mile, winning by less than a minute, threw my arms up in victory, and slowly sauntered to the med tent and to be covered with ice cold towels by sexy EMTs.  My personal reward for sticking it out and scraping the bottom of the barrel for every last ounce of energy and motivation.

Some post-race reflections:

1) The new saddle worked out great, but next time I should at least do one ride on it before racing.

2) Given that I consumed about 6000 calories in the next 24 hours (and only about 200 of that was frothy beverage), it would have been a good idea to have one more Clif shot at some point.

3) Point-to-point races require a little bit more planning than one would expect.

4) There really isn't much more I could have done to be ready for the heat and the altitude (except maybe move back to Boulder).

5) Winning isn't everything.  I was definitely hurting out there.  But I am proud of my race strategy and my effort, if not the actual race.

Vital statistics:

Swim: 30:01

Bike: 2:40:44

Run 1:35:53 (fastest female on the day; 13th overall)

Overall: 4:48:55 (1st female; 18th overall)

All set

Amazing! I am caught up on work, or at least as far as I can get today. I am all packed. Bill and Erika are picking me up from work this afternoon with all my stuff and their stuff stuffed into their car. :-) And then we are off to Sunriver. I'm sure I can find something to do.

Hard to believe that I am doing a half-ironman in 21 hours. Never thought I'ld get to the point where I would say "I'm doing another half this week-end". But this is number 7 or 8, actually it's 8 now that I think about it. And I have never done the same one twice. Almost, but I opted out of the 5430 Half in Boulder one year in favor of taking over management of the run course. I was on the race crew for that race more times than I did it! I'm thinking this one will be one of the better ones. I still have the fitness I had going into Wildflower and judging from my run at Blue Lake (38:07 for 10K-yo) two weeks ago, I'll be able to chase down anybody in front of me after I burn the bike!

The bike course was made for me.... from mile 20-4o is pretty much all uphill, with three significant climbs, the last of which is the steepest and most devastating...~3 miles up to the entrance of the Mt. Bachelor ski Resort @ 6,500 ft. of elevation (the race starts at 4,200). But, then the rest of the bike is all downhill (including a 2.5 mile 6-8 %straightaway with fresh asphalt) and transitions into a flat (two insignificant hills) run where I can fly!

The race starts at 9:00 am. There isn't on-line updating or track-an-athlete for this one, but I will have a timing chip and update the race report as soon as I get back to business (that is, not in the woods...we are camping!)

Race preparation

What do you do in the days leading up to a race? I get asked this question a lot. How do you get ready? What do you do to train? What do you eat? Do you try and sleep more? Eat less? What?

I don't have the answers. But here's what I am doing.

Sleep:
I get about 7-8 hours a night and seem to function just fine. So that doesn't change.

Food:
I eat pretty healthy most of the time. So that doesn't change either. Steel-cut oatmeal in the morning with fruit, yoghurt, honey, and nuts on the top (recently switched to the steel-cut from the old fashioned oats when Amber told me that I could cook up a weeks portion on Sunday and just warm them up in the microwave!). You'ld be surprised how fast I can put this together. Soup and sandwhich for lunch with fruit as a snack during the day (pot of soup is also prepared on the week-end or Monday night). Then crazy salads with blueberries, nuts, chicken, and cheese on them or some light pasta for dinner. Or both, after all I am still training.

Training:
It might get a little lighter starting around mid-week, but I still did my track workout last night (I love running in circles!). I still ride my bike to work every morning and home every night and to the store on the way or stop by the bars....

Drinking:
More water, less caffeine, less alcohol (sad). It might not be that I drink more water per say, I am just more conscious of it. I ween off the caffeine with a couple days of half-caf-espresso from Starbucks (I can't help it: 1) Thanks Mom and Dad for the Starbucks card. 2) It's right there on the way to work. 3) They are so friendly. 4) They do make a lovely espresso.) And then it is decaf in the French Press, until the day before race day and of course race day itself. I have practiced this many a time for Half-ironman events (anything shorter doesn't require the decaf stage). I also try to cut out the micro-brew, sticking to a small glass of pinot noir if the occasion calls for it... it will tonight (celebrating).

Mental:
VERY IMPORTANT!!! I picture myself racing, transitioning, getting up in the morning, travelling to the race, getting my packet, everything... even what I am wearing before after during. So much so, that I start dreaming about it. However, I'm not done yet, because last night I dreamed it snowed on me during the bike portion of the race and that the sun on the front of my new Spish race suit was melting a path for me to ride through. Wouldn't that be cool...

So, it's going to be an old-fashioned Oregonian show-down in the elite waves... once again I'll be starting off with all the elite men and women. Sweet!

Back in OR

Didn't know I was gone? That's because I was in Boulder for a total of 27 hours and 17 minutes. How do I know? Because I got off the AB bus at 12:33 pm on the corner of Broadway and 16th on Friday and I caught the AB bus at the Table Mesa Park 'n Ride at 3:50 on Saturday. What transpired in between was just awesome.

I was there on a frequent flier ticket for S and M's wedding. When I made the booking, I had already known I was visiting Boulder at the beginning of July, but something in me couldn't wait two more weeks to get back to the People's Republic. Maybe it was the need for sunshine, warmth, friends, mountains, or rare air... or perhaps a major combo of all of them. Whatever the reason, getting off the plane in Denver felt like home, and as the bus crested the open space hill outside Broomfield and the Flatirons came into view, I could barely contain my excitement.

At the bus stop, Andrea and Anne were waiting for me, I knew because I got a call at 12:31 from Andrea asking me where I was (a scant four blocks away). I gave them the biggest hugs ever and we talked nonstop all the way to Wahoo's (my favorite burrito place). Two hours later we were still catching up on the patio, but it was time for me to pick up the wedding present I had ordered (the Lonely Planet Bluelist 2008 and Unlikely Destinations: The Lonely Planet Story), and then get my butt to Vern's and Joe's house where I was staying. I still had to get showered, changed, groomed, and otherwise prettified (an oft impossible feat). Thankfully, V trusted me enough to borrow her car for the drive across town.

The wedding was gorgeous. M was stunning in a full length, fitted gown, and S positively glowed. The Jewish-themed wedding, presided over by a rabbi-lite and held on Boulder Open Space with a backdrop of mountains, blue sky, and 70 smiling faces, was perfect. Their vows were personal, touching, funny, and so perfect. After the ceremony, we took a camp photo and headed for the reception at a local art gallery. I talked and caught up with friends non-stop through drinks, dinner, and dessert while Frank Sinatra, Jack Johnson, and Nora Jones tunes worked their magic. The highlight of the food that evening were the gourmet grilled cheese and the ice cream sandwiches, among many other worthy additions, including Chinese food in take-out fashion and a pez-dispenser bride-and-groom on top of the cake. And the dancing following the wedding was probably the best wedding music I have ever heard (not a macarena or chicken dance in the whole lot). Two wedding crashers certainly thought so.

I danced till 1 am, which made my early morning run up to Bear Peak impossible. So, instead I punished myself on the Mesa Trail. After 1:30 of that, I was ready for some coffee from Vic's, stopping by to see Kathy and Matt at Fleet Feet (best running store in Boulder). With only a few more hours to spare, I met up with A&E for lunch at Illegal Pete's (more burritos... my second favorite in Boulder). Even though I am going to see them in just over a week, it was so good to give them a hug and chat. We even had time to get Glacier (ummm... Death by Chocolate or Mint-Oreo, how is one to decide?) before heading to the bus!

All-in-all.... 27 hours and 17 minutes turned out to be a lot like getting a drop of water when you are dying of thirst. No worries, I'll get my fill in a week or so.

But first, Pac Crest Half-iron triathlon! I'm a little nervous.

To vacuum or not to vacuum, that is the question.

It's time for another edition of "Wouldn't it be cool....", an occasional topic that arises from news stories, conversations over frothy beverages (beer or latte, you pick), the blogosphere, or just things I overhear.  Today's idea is dedicated to my roommate, who told me last week that one of his goals is to not vacuum his room for the entire time he lives at our house.  9 months and holding strong.  Even in the face of my new you-can-see-what-you-are-sucking Bissell vacuum cleaner that I bought to honor my friend Tom Zirbel, awesome cyclist and member of the Bissell Pro Cycling team.

So, in the spirit of seeing just what might be lurking in his carpet, I set out on my mission and found the jackpot.  Not only did I find info on the creepy crawlies that grown in household carpet (warning, you might never want to walk on your carpet barefoot again after reading this...then again, there are probably worse things growing in your shower), but I stumbled upon a blogger who has the solution: Future carpet.  A concept similar to what might happen if you got gum in your hair, or dyed it a color you don't like.  It would grow a little and you would then cut it.  Voila.  But, see then, you would have to have a lawn-mower contraption for your carpet, thus defeating the whole purpose of not having to vacuum.

Some things in life are just lose-lose.

Race report: Blue Lake Triathlon

Here's what you need to know before proceeding, a little prologue if you will.

1) I never intentionally try to mess anyone else's race up to my advantage.

2) Some people take themselves way to seriously.

3) Racing is supposed to be fun... and I love it.

We (the OSU tri team) camped overnight in Oxbow state park, an oasis of woods, river trails, and sandy-muddy beaches, smack next to the airport in downtown Portland. But you would never have known it because it was utterly quiet (birds not withstanding), cell phones didn't work, the toilets were latrines, and the water was from a spigget in to ground. J and J made a huge pot of spaghetti, peach cobbler (camping-style), bean salad, and garlic bread. Not bad for a spread in the woods. We all had our fill and then some because a few people who had planned on making it for dinner stopped on the way...including one chica, who ate so much food at the Olive Garden that she had a food-baby.

The night dissolved into hysterical laughter around the camp fire and before long it was 11:00 and time to turn in for tomorrow mornings 5:30 am start.

I camp in style: blow-up mattress, pillow, so needless to say, I slept great. Despite a visit from a sasquatch in the night that ate our leftover bread.

Given that the race was 8:00 am and only a 15 minute drive away, I felt that getting up at 5:30 was a little much, but once people start stirring in a campsite, everyone is up. We made cowboy coffee and oatmeal and hopped in the cars. Leaving proved to be difficult as the rangers were not keen on opening the gate to the park before 6:30 am. So much for getting to the race early. I was fine, you know me, but there were others who felt slightly rushed.... (but we don't need number 2) yet.

C. and I rocked out to Top Gun on the drive over and by the time we rolled our bikes into transition, we were both thoroughly pumped up. Getting body-marked was interesting. They used the biggest, frickin' black markers I have ever seen and because I was number 9, I jokingly suggested that the body-marker put a line underneath it so that people would know it was a nine instead of a six. I thought it was funny. It must have been too early for her.

The transition didn't have numbers on the racks, but rather numbers on the ends of the racks, so that at least all the people in the elite wave were clustered together. I picked out a bare spot and popped my bike into it. As I was starting to set up gear, a woman in my wave comes running up with her bike and informs me that I have put my bike in her spot (remember rule #1). There was clearly room for two bikes, but the way she intended to rack hers (by the seat, with most of the bike on the opposite side of the rack from her transition) meant that her front wheel would be sitting square where I would transition. I started to explain this to her, and she proceeded not to listen to me, getting more and more upset, until she finally squeaked out, "but I got here at 6:00 am..." And that is all she had to say. If she was willing to show up at a local Olympic distance event two hours before her start just to get a good position in transition (rule #2), then I would move my bike. In the end, I was racked on the very inside of the rack, far away from Squeaker.

Even with all this, I was excited about racing with friends (rule #3) and down to the swim start I headed with my wetsuit only half way up to show off my Splish suit (the butterfly one). Everyone in my wave had a purple cap, and by some error, I had a red one. The race officials made me run off to the announcer booth to switch caps (whatever), and the elite men and women entered into the chilly water for our treading start. I should mention that the "elite wave" was a mix of pros and top amateurs.

At the gun, about 30 men and women churned the water, heading toward the first buoy. I found my groove so fast, faster than I think I have ever done, and was able to stay fairly close to the top people in my age group for most of the swim, as it flew by. I even managed to follow a straight line to a each buoy even as a man in my wave weaved back and fourth in front of me, finally tiring and unsuccessfully trying to get on my feet after I bee-lined a buoy and he accidentally swung wide. Out of the swim in 21:51, I made quick work of the transition (eventually faster than the Squeaker) and headed out onto the bike in 2nd.

The bike was flat-to-rolling with a long out and back following a quick side-trip to add distance. The wind was blowing in from the side, and the road was totally exposed, with a large lake on one side and Portland International Airport. My pre-race pump-me-up Top Gun music seemed oddly appropraite and I imagined myself on a motorcycle racing a plane.

Quick note here, I was secretly competing against JoeB on the OSU team, and though he and I had come out of transition together (mine was faster), he pulled away fast and I didn't seem him again until the turn around. Also somewhere around the turn around I passed two women (I thought I was in second?)... one of whom had clearly been drafting off the other for about ten miles. I know, because I picked out the classic pedal slow of someone out of the wind and also the fast that I watched her at the turn around and she was a scant 5 ft behind the other woman. Nevermind that, though, I passed both convincingly (the only way to do it) on one of the rare uphills. JoeB at this point was over 2 minutes ahead of me (darn!), even though I averaged over 23 mph.

I had a little trouble sliding my feet into my running shoes in T2 and as I headed out of transition my hat flew off of my skinny head in the slight wind. Someone yelled to me that a woman was less than a minute ahead of me (?!). Okay, seriously, these weren't manish looking women...who's having trouble counting? But despite all that, I again found my groove almost instantly. All that mental practice really paid off! I settled into what I thought might be a good pace, and wheeled in the phantom woman and a lot of the men. I was movin'. I was gaining on JoeB and at the turnaround I realized that the woman in front of me and the drafter on the bike were both in the duathlon (oh!). But unfortunately, I think JoeB got a little adrenaline nug when he saw me gaining, and in the end, I fell 20 seconds short of catching him. But it was my fastest 10K in five years... 38:07 (6:08 per mile; fastest woman by 1:43; 6th fastest in the race). I had to be happy with that. And I was!

Next up: Pacific Crest Half-iron distance in Sunriver, OR. June 28.

Race report: Footzone Dirty-Half Marathon Trail race

OMG, switchbacks, ups and downs, 90% single-track, and some seriously fast women.

The Dirty-Half course was set as a loop that took in a lot of the trails that I cyclocrossed on Saturday.  So many people signed up this year (Lucky #7 years running) that they started the runners in three waves.  I was in the first one, but the sun was shining so brightly, that the early morning chill had already receded and I was down to my one shirt and shorts for the start.

I took off fast, too fast, typical, at the start because within less than a mile the race entered single track and remained that way for the rest of the race (except about 400 yds around mile 7).  But, it was a good thing.  Within about 1/4 mile I was passing the heaver breathers and hopping over the legs of guys who had forgotten that we were racing at altitude, for 13.1 miles, on hills.  Two woman took off out of site and I would not see them for the rest of the race (until the finish line... but, not in the beer tent).  I settled in behind Casey, a locally beloved runner and the beloved of a friend, whom I though I might have a hope and a prayer of keeping up with.  Over the rocks, through some light sand, and up the hills, I was keeping a fast pace on his heels, sort of, somewhere around 6:40-6:45 per mile for the most part, even considering it was mostly uphill.  Around mile 7, it started going downhill and my legs took over the pace-setting, dropping in a couple of 6:20s despite the switchbacks.  At one point, I sort of zoned out and missed the fact that the trail had turned.  I had looked up to see how far ahead of me another racer was (Casey was long gone) and seeing them just ahead, I plowed forward, only to step off the trail, see that it was going the other way, try to correct myself, and end up bodily running into a tree. Nice.

I thought I was home-free even though my body was starting to realize that 13.1 miles is a half of a marathon.  Then, the trail started going up hill.  Mile 10 to 11 to be exact.  Oh yeah, this was were I was passed by three of only four people to pass me the entire race. And guess what, two of them were women.  One even said "Oh no" when I stepped off the trail to let her pass.  I thought that she was concerned that I had tripped or something.  I managed to drag my ass to the finish line with a big 'ole smile on my face, especially since I snuck under 1:29 with a 1:28:58....very nearly my PR for that distance.  I chatted up the woman who had passed me at the finish...Pam, who apparently graduated from Oregon in '01, the same year that I graduated from Mizzou, and she ran track there. She told me she had said "Oh no" because she was using me to set the pace and wanted me to keep up with her and make it a race.  I politely explained that she would have had to slow down for that to happen. :-)

All said and done... that race was a blast and I'll probably do it again next year.  I got a new pair of Smartwool socks for being green and riding my bike to the race.  And I won my age group and got a new beer glass with which to enjoy tasty, frothy beverage in.   Ummm....tasty, frothy beverage.  I might have to partake of said beverage.  Bottoms up! 

Ah, Bend...

I spent last week-end in Bend, OR...  riding my cyclocross bike, running the Dirty Half trail race (race report is next), drinking tea, and hanging out in Tumalo State park where I was camping.

I got to Bend in the early afternoon on Saturday and drove straight to Phil's trailhead...well, not exactly straight.  I stopped in at a bike shop to pick up a lock for my bike (only thing I forgot to bring...amazing!), change into my shorts, and chatted up the peeps in the shop, which I will not mention in order to protect their identity when I lambaste them in a minute.  I was trying to get some FYI on more good places to ride around.  And my roommate and another guy I knew who actual races cyclocross suggested Phil's and to poke my head into said bike shop for trail conditions and other options.

After accomplishing my first two missions, I tried to talk to one of the guys that was working the register while he rang me up.  I asked about Phil's and another trail just North of their as well as stuff around Tumalo.  He told me a bunch of stuff, none of which was encouraging:

1) I wouldn't ride my cross bike out there

2) take at least 5 tubes for all the flats your going to get

3)  there's only one or two trails that's rideable on a cross bike

4) It's so sandy, skinny tires won't be able to make it

and my personal favorite

5) You'll probably be walking a lot.

Ahem.  Let me just say that I should get a T-shirt that reads "Please, take me seriously as a cyclist".  I rode a lot of the trails in and around Phil's and North of there and the cyclocross bike handled them all perfectly, hah!  I didn't get a single flat.  There was hardly any sand, and what there was turned out to be kind of fun to ride through.  And I don't walk my bike. 

Anywho, I had a blast.  The trails were so awesome and even the sketch parts that had rocks, roots, and sharp turns were fun and helped me build my skills!  Below: taking a momentary break to do some candid camera action:

Missed it again...an addendum.

I missed swimming again this morning. I've lost count how many times this has happened. Swimming has always been the hardest of the three sports for me to train.

Back in Boulder, I had a crazy German who would chastise and harass me constantly if I missed a workout or was late (see How to do it all.....: tuesday morning run/fight club). So, some of the time, my big motivation for getting out of bed to swim was not to get my interval whittled down by Wolfgang. If I was 5 minutes late, my 100m was on the 1:30, 10 minutes late 1:25, 15 minutes late ... well, let's just say I wouldn't even bother stopping at the wall for the entire workout, just kept flip-turning until I racked up a 3500m workout.

Addendum to previous post:  I instead went swimming at lunch, with a lively masters bunch.  I've not done that much fly in years and the coach was a figure to be reckoned with ...ruling the class with an iron fist.  So much fun!  I liked it.

Run for the Hills

Boy, did I ever. My second race in two days. I was feeling a little shnarky from Friday's festivities (it was one of my labmate's last days, so naturally we had to give her a good send off) and Saturday's celebration (State TTT Champs, yo). But I managed to get out of bed early enough to ride Tigger the 5 miles to the race start in time to register for this fun and local trail run.

Last Wednesday, Cary, the race coordinator, board member of the Greenbelt Land Trust that was the beneficiary of the race, and current fellow Wednesday night speedster who feels no qualms about running my legs off each week, convinced me that this was going to be the most fun to be had on a Sunday morning. Which, ironically, turned out to be true. Just as an aside, the Greenbelt Land Trust is kind of like a not-for-profit Boulder Country Parks and Rec that goes around buying open space around Corvallis to create a green buffer to keep out the big box stores. So, the "Greenbelt" is creating a sort of People's Republic of Corvallis.

My experiences last summer with the Imogene Pass Run convinced me that there is nothing more fun than running trails uphill. So, I was really looking forward to this event, especially as a great test of my fitness leading into next week-ends Dirty Half. The first mile starts off gradually uphill along an asphalt bike path, but quickly pops onto single track and turns up the heat on the incline as we proceeded through some sharp switchbacks. The path narrows and then widens out into horse track around mile two, screaming downhill back to a little bit of the blacktop trail before cutting across a grass field and entering the woods on the backside of Baldy. From this point, the trail undulated, weaved, bobbed, and generally tested the hip flexors before ascending all the way to the top of Bald Hill where we were serenaded by a folk guitarist at mile 3.5 before heading downhill and back to the start/finish area. Throughout the race I picked off the runners in front of me until I found myself running behind a guy wearing Tevas (no joke). I was actually content to stay behind him as I figured he had the best foot placement ever, but he was nice enough to pull up and let me pass. So, I was left to cruise down the hill (I refuse to call it a mountain) into the finish.

My motivation during the race actually came from a ghost runner. Erika's Bill ran the course on Saturday and was kind enough (evil chuckle) to tell me his time before hand. I imagined him at each turn just out of sight. In a way, it was kind of unfair because I had the benefit of other competitors, but I was handicapped by the TTT the day before. But, you won't hear any excuses from me because I beat him in the end.

I thought I was under the radar on this one, but today there was a picture of me (starting the race) on the cover of the Gazette Times. But today's props go to my friend Sydney who was quoted in the paper as saying "I kind of felt like barfing right then" - about the summit of Bald Hill. Don't feel bad. We all did, Chica.