Guess where I am!

On my way to St. Louis on New Years Eve, I had a three-hour layover in Chicago.  Apparently, so many people go through O'Hare airport that they have a website dedicated to layover Chicago-style.  Did you know that one of the largest mounted dinosaurs in the world is a Brachiosaurus standing 72 ft. tall in Terminal 1?  I do... now.

Self-portrait with dinosaur legs.

Don't look now, but you're standing under a Brachiosaurus!

I managed to strand myself during lunchtime... and $11 dollars bought me a cup of squash soup and a latte (liquid lunch :-).  But, the sun was streaming through the windows on an extremely bright and crisp Illinoisian afternoon, and I chose to snack in the sun on an artist bench near my gate.  My benchmate turned out to be as much of a people person as I am and within seconds of me sitting down, we were deep in conversation.  We talked about politics, where we were traveling to and from, what put us in Chicago of all places, jobs, family, the state of the world, education, literature, where to get a good beer, where to get a good wine, where to get the best Cajun food in the French Quarter.... Turns out she was raised in Michigan, but was a long time resident of New Orleans.  Even evacuated herself during Katrina.  She taught at a charter magnet school and we chatted a lot about the challenges still facing the area.  It was a major bummer when they started to board my plane... sadly, she was stranded by a mechanical until 8:3o PM.  I hope she made it to her family in time for the ball drop.

About New Years:  It was fantastic to greet my parents in St. Lou.  We slid right into the familiar roles as we made dinner, ate, chatted, cleaned up the dishes, nearly came to blows in a political conversation, cleared the table, played a game of Shang-hai (a tricky card game that has been in the family since before I was born)... and finally settled down to watch Ghosttown (hilarious!).  We decided to go to bed shortly after that, well before midnight.  I think we all wanted 2008 to end as soon as possible.  Funny thing is, almost every friend I talked to spent New Years at home with closest loved ones and oft went to bed early... Maybe we were all a little tired of 2008.

Welcome 2009!

Swimming the Days of Christmas

I continued to get a jump on my New Years' resolution this week, though I am still undecided about the "A" race (see side panel and vote... Eric, I'm seriously considering Twin Cities Marathon!).  Having Christmas in the middle of it was both a blessing and an even better blessing.

This week's training went something like this:

Four soggy runs,

Three dog walks,

Two Splish Swims,

and an easy spi-in on my trainer.

The snow finally let up, but the rain kept at it.  I fortunately avoided a major soaking.  But the trails were so muddy, that I was forced to stick to the bike paths.  Even so, I managed to get really dirty on Tuesday stomping in the puddles along the Philomath bike path (glorious).

The weeks marquee event was an attempt on the Twelve Swims of Christmas with the CBATS (Corvallis Bad-a$$ Team of Swimmers) on Christmas Eve.  Complete with my new Splish suit and matching lid.  The swim went something like this:

Start with 25 yards of fly.  Then do 50 yds of back, 25 yds of fly.  Next comes 75 yds of breast, 50 yds of back, and 25 yds of fly.  Each addition is unique that vary from combinations of stoke, IMs, all freestyle, or choice with the 12th addition being 300 yds.  If you get through the whole thing at once it is 9100 yds.  We made it through day 8 (3000 yds) during the lunch break before having to get back to work.  Monday we are going to attempt to finish it off, though I'm pretty sure 6100 yds of swimming isn't on my training plan tomorrow.  Let me look.  Yup, not on the training plan.

The A race

I couldn't take it anymore. The week off is officially over. I woke up on Friday morning (after accidently sleeping in... that was some good sleep) to a gloriously unusual sunny morning that boasted a fresh blanket of white stuff (snow). The roads beckoned. And so it was without hesitation that I ended my off-week, threw on some tights, secured my YakTrax over my brand spanking new Brooks Adrenaline GTSes, and literally bounded out the door.

The bounding lasted for about 20 seconds before I realized that bounding is hard work, and I settled into a regular running pace. Now, don't worry. I kept it easy. After all, it has been five days since my last run (also in the snow... are we sure I live in Corvallis???). Even with only that short bit, I doubt I have run 26.2 miles total since the Silverman Triathlon Marathon Chapter in my running season.

This particular run was only 30 minutes long (excuse: I had to get to work, and I ran out of road... tragedies). But, it felt really, really good. After I added a little coffee to my body and ten minutes of yoga, I felt like I had taken happy pills.

Proof that the sun shines in the winter in Corvallis:

I call this image "Pink flamer". It has so many fun meanings... but the tree looks like it is consumed by pink fire when backlit by the sunshine.

The Memorial Center on campus bathed in snowshine.

Today's run officially kicks off (drumroll, please) Sunny's Super Spectacular Week of Pre-New Year New Year's Resolution Training (SSSW of PNYNYRT). I'm getting a head start on it since last year I failed so miserably at my New Year's Resolution (Do one pull-up)... don't laugh. This has been my NYR for the past three years. If it ain't happened yet, it ain't happenin' at all. Why one? If you are ever hanging off a cliff, or a tall building, you only have to pull your body weight up once in order not to die. Since this scenario is extremely unlikely, it's time for a new NYR.

What is this year's NYR going to be? To actually train and peak for an A race. The jury is still out on which race will actually be the A race (or races...), but candidates include Wildflower Half-Iron distance (May 3), Lake Stevens 70.3 (Aug. 16), and, if I am lucky to be asked again, the Silverman Triathlon Marathon leg (it and I have a score to settle that I think a little preparation might fix). Other potential races include Escape from Alcatraz (my one reason for becoming a pro triathlete, that and getting to put my name on the butt of my Splish suits) or Boise 70.3 (physically impossible for me to do both as they are on the same week-end of June 13-14). The advantage of doing Boise 70.3 here would be that I would have two shots this season to qualify for the World 70.3 Championships again (I qualified in 2006 but had to pull out because of bad ankle sprain six weeks out). The disadvantage to this is that I might jump into Pacific Crest again (had so much fun there last year) and that would make four, maybe five if you count Worlds, 70.3 races on the year. Other deciding factors: Sharks, water temperatures, and potential for awesomeness (I'm good at sand ladders).

Long and short, or long or short of it: I can't decide.

Do me a favor: vote for which race you think should be my A race (the poll will be up until 12:01am January 1, 2009)... or add a suggestion in the comment section. And just to preempt Kerri, A & E, and Amanda, notice that Ironman Canada is not on the list.

Merry Christmas Cookies!

Getting over the hump

Weather:  Freezing and determined to make me fall on my butt.

Roads:  Icy, with patches of asphalt.

Motivation:  -6, that's how many degrees Fahrenheit below freezing it is.

Plus side:  It is my total off week!  No biking (could only do it on a trainer anyway).  No running (also on a trainer unless I want to fire-up the yak-trax).  Swimming, best described as "floating" or "hot-tubbing".

Car: Warming up waiting for me to drive it in.  Normally, I'm no sissy about bike-commuting, but my God,  I "rode" my bike home from work on Monday and I crashed twice.  One crash sent my bike careening across an ice sheet and me doing my best interpretation of the Road-runner as the cleats on my bike shoes desperately tried to find purchase.

Pink is the new green

What is a single, 29-going-on-29 woman supposed to do on a Friday night in a town devoid of single people? Run for the Borders.

I’ve never met a bookstore I didn’t like.  Local bookshops, national chains, hole-in-the-wall dusty jackets, paper-scented superstores filled with the sounds of cracking book bindings.  I like them whichever way they come: used, new, or slightly abused.  And with Christmas coming, I was looking for a little holiday cheer.  Streaming “Swingin’ Christmas” all day on Pandora helped a little, but I needed some gift shopping.

Enter the slightly silly, eclectic offerings of the Paperie section.  Picture this, I'm thinking, "I need some Christmas".  I'm browsing the stacks of Borders Presents (employees offer their book evaluations), meandering along the best seller lists, passing by fluffy fair for the holidays (one gem among them: Stuff White People Like... hilarious.  Here's a hint, I am doing four of these thing simultaneously...  coffee, blogging, listening to NPR, contemplating my bike commute in the snow... that last one counts).

Aside: I would like to dedicate the following link to my friend Jeff, who looked fantastic in his ugly sweater... 

I round the corner of the "New in Paperback" table and there she is.  The tree.  Seven feet tall.  Perfectly proportioned.  I pass by and chuckle to myself "No way".  I wander through the calendar stacks, taking peeks over my shoulder.  A sign near her says "more sizes and colors in the Paperie".  I head that way, looking for something shorter, more traditional, less what's-the-word...  PINK!  Nothing else will do.

I ask the sales staff if it is just for show and they tell me that they only received one of the trees and decided to put it up.  I would be the only person in Corvallis, OR with a pink tree.  My first Christmas tree as a Singleton.  (Sadly, my first Christmas not with my family... don't worry, New Years will be in MO).  I had to have it.  They stuffed it in the box for me and accompanied me out to my car.  Three of the sales staff approached me while I was waiting for them to dismantle it, saying how glad they were that the tree had a home (this may be because they wanted to get rid of it, but one woman was a little sad.  I think she would have bought it if it stayed much longer).  

The PINK tree!

I only own three ornaments: a frog on a beach board (thanks 'rents), a singing Tweety Bird, and a sparkly, winged track shoe.  I added a few sparkly, silver coated flowers and butterflies that I found in the sales bin at Micheals, and strung up some green Christmas lights.  I have no Angel, so I topped the tree with one of the butterflies and hung an old, yellow, stuffed monkey from my childhood on the bike hook above the tree trying to catch the butterfly.  Perfect.

I've told a few friends about the tree, comments were varied:

"Of course."

"It's a Barbie tree!"

"It's soooo you!"

"It looks like someone threw-up Pepto Bismal on your tree"

I am now in the Christmas spirit!

Another race, another bruise.

I can now play connect the dots between the bruises on my shins from clipping pedals.

Two days of cyclocross racing at the Portland International Raceway.  Motocross bumps.  Hairpin Turns.  Sticky mud.  Slimy mud.  Wet Mud.  Even, dry mud.  Mud that got on and stuck to just about everything.

I raced the Womens Bs both days, but don't let that fool you.  There was fierce competition.  On day one, we lined up by race number (which turned out to be the completely arbitrary order in which we signed up).  The Beginners were mixed in with the Bs in the start chute, a narrow concrete straight-a-way that gave way to a dirt road and a muddy bottleneck entirely too quickly for my tastes.  When the start whistle blew, I was quickly wedged out of the lead pack because of my triathlete-like sprinting abilities.  Instead I tried to position myself behind a few aggressive riders thinking this was a good way to stay in it.

Bad idea.

One of the aptly named aggressive riders tried to put the other into a fence on the second turn.  I nearly took out two women behind me trying to avoid the frackas.  A string of F-bombs emitting from the downed rider followed me as I maneuvered through the cakey mud on this part of the course.  I couldn't tell if I was racing away or shrinking away, so unsportsman-like was her reaction.  But, I didn't have long to think about it because we hit the motocross bumps in all their roller-coaster glory.  I thought I was going to toss my oats towards the end of them... but then a hard uphill and a few hard cranks through mud so deep and thick it reached my bottom bracket and I was out onto the section of the course that most resembled the path of a giant paperclip.  It was impossible to gain any momentum, and there was an unexpected obstacle.  The Junior Boys were doing there best to take out the women racers.

Oh yeah, this was new.  The race coordinators, in their infinite wisdom decided it would be a good match to put the Women and the Junior Men on the course at the same time.  In sheer riding ability and speed, I can understand the match-up, but the 'tudes were polar opposites.  I had a few boys pass me yelling out "watch out!  Junior Boy here!"  You don't say.  Boys, join me at camera three.

You need to get over you compulsion to pass every woman in front of you.  We are all racing, and you don't hear me passing you yelling out "Womens B" in a tone that suggests that I think you should stop immediately and clear the way so I can pass you.  And it is entirely uncool to pass someone and then slow down.  In such an instance, I will always pass you back.  And next time if I hear you utter the words "what do you think you are doing" I'll shove my cleated shoe, up your a#$.

The circuit was 2.6 miles (longer than any other cyclocross course I have been on), and only 30 minutes was allotted for our race (shorter than usual, but thankfully so).  This left time for only three laps (thank god).  I managed to keep it upright and maneuver my way into fourth place.  But, I was suffering.  It was cold, and my left shifter (or my front derailleur) decided to lock up, on the big chain-ring no less, so that I spent the entire race cranking it like a peppermill in my best imitation of a wattage cottage.

Coming off the motocross section on the first lap... don't let it fool you, this is just after I lost the lead pack thanks to the unfortunate F-bomber.

One more go:  I wanted some sweet revenge for my riding-the-bumper performance from the day before.  I got a front-row spot thanks to my top-ten finish on day one.  My chain could now happily slide from the big to the small chain ring, courtesy of some quick fixing from River City Bicycles and some mothering from Jim.  And gladly to.  Day two featured a number of steeper climbs, a near-vertical run-up, and even deeper mud, courtesy of the warmer-temps.

I jumped off the start-line and quickly settled into a fifth place, but it was pretty obvious that among our group I was the best in the tricky mud... obvious to me because the women immediately in front of me decided to dive off her bike for a closer look.  I bumbled around her, but I had already been gapped by the top three.  We raced around among the-hairpins on lap one, before I caught up to them on that long concrete straightaway.  I tucked in for a little wheel-sucking on this section.  Immediately following, I made a move, working the mud like a magpie.  I emerged onto the second part of the loop in 1st!

I held that position, even putting a sizable gap on second (yesterday's winner) in the muddy section of lap three.  But, it wasn't meant to be, not far from the finish, I got a little excited on a 180° turn.  I lost my rear wheel in a rut, and went down hard (catching a pedal on the shin, of course).  Second passed me on the inside as I struggled to remount.  Without any time, I tried hard to recruit my small amount of fast-twitch muscle to catch her, but it was not to be.  I finished it out in 2nd place... but I managed to get a little wood:

Season Finale!

Well, this is interesting. I am on the eve of my last race of the season. That's right. I will not be racing again (after Sunday's debauchery) until at least Jan.1 (There is the possibility of a New Year's Resolution Run).

Tomorrow, Heather and I will be racing cyclocross at the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross, Portland Cup, taking on the Bs... Me in the Women's B race and She in the B-ginners (she won't race me). The Felt is primed and ready to go, complete with new AlphaQ Kick-ass Fork (that is the official name that I have given it) and a re-cabling courtesy of Full Cycles. Can't wait to get cold and dirty! Why am not racing the A's... Well, this being a UCI (Union Cyclist Internationale) race, the highest category I could race in without shelling out a $150 for a UCI license that would have lasted me until the end of the year (yeah, that end of the year that is occurring in three weeks) is the B-race. So, I don't want to hear any comments about sand-baggin' or posin'.

In order to prepare for this epic event... I've been running. Running up hills. But, not just hills... Peaks! Wednesday morning, I hooked up with one of Corvallis's fastest women (Meghan A.) to interval up McCullough Peak. Up into the foggy, drippy, forest, we hoofed it, just as the sun would have been coming up, until the last of our timed intervals took us within a quarter mile of the top. Well, as Meghan pointed out, you can't get that close and not go all the way up. I'm sure the view would have been spectacular except that it was FOGGY! There's a big surprise. Still worth it. We got to run - maybe, slide - down Innuendo Trail to Extendo Trail and out along Oak Ridge. Fun, Fun, Fun!

Today, as a pre-race workout, I may have raced. But, not to worry it was swimming. The Masters class I hook up with a couple times of a week puts together a Black v. Orange dual meet where we get together and contest Everybody-Goes-Relays (25m Free and 25m Medley) as well as a series of individual events. I played a "Floater"... meaning I was on the team of Coach Bill's choosing in case there was a speed or number discrepancy. For the occasion, I wore my ridiculously bright, awesomely ostentatious black and orange tiger stripe swimsuit. I got to swim the 100 Breaststroke and the Reverse IM... There is a reason that the Individual Medleys are contested fly first... it is nearly impossible to do the fly last after racing the other three strokes. Thought my arms were going to fall off. Good thing I don't need those too much in cyclocross!

What I do need for cyclocross, apparently, are nemeses (plural: nemesi? nemesises?) and victims. I found a rockin' site that tabulates cross results and makes a list of competitors and divides the closest into nemeses and victims. My closest competitor (who is just that, given that we were neck and neck until I ate it at Kruger's) is Tina. Interesting that she is both a victim and a nemesis. Hmmm... I wish she were racing this week-end. But, I talked to her after our last race and she is ready for a much needed break before her big build-up for next year's road season. It's all good. This week-end is all about fun.

Yo cabbie, give me a push!

It was very hard for me to get up and go to work on Monday morning... not because I didn’t want to go. No, because I did not get home until 3-friggin’-30 in the morning. I cannot blame this entirely on the airline. Yes, I can, almost.

The flight schedule had me taking off from Denver and landing in Portland on November 30. In reality, I took off a whole 10 minutes before the scheduled landing and arrived in Portland on December 1. After, I might add, the last shuttle that would have taken me to my parking spot in Hollywood (I love parking in Hollywood just because of the name!), a suburb in Portland.

Not relishing the thought of sleeping in the airport for four hours, I decided it was worth the $20 cab fare in order to get a few winks in my own bed. But me and cabs don’t really mesh (I got dropped off at the wrong place and taken on an expensive driving tour of Vegas last time I was in one. I also once had a cab driver drive 60 mph through a closed-off construction area in downtown NYC in order to get me to my destination on time... I thought I was going to die). So, my track record with cab drivers is not too good. And explaining where I needed to go to my transportation services provider, a.k.a. cabbie, went something like an Abbott and Costello Act

Cabbie: Where do you need to go?
Me: Hollywood. Somewhere in the vicinity of 42nd and Multnomah.
Cabbie: What’s the address?
Me: Just take me to the intersection.
Cabbie: What address do I put in the GPS?
Me: Just put the intersection in.
Cabbie: How will I know where to drop you off?
Me: Drop me off at the intersection.
Cabbie: Are you going to a friend’s house?
Me: No. I’m going to my parked car.
Cabbie: Is your car parked at a friend’s house?
Me: No. It’s just parked near the intersection.
Cabbiee: What’s near the intersection?
Me: My car.

And, on....we....go.