Fall Tails

I love Fall, but occasionally I fall.  Some of my decisions are made through a complicated "Heads and Tails" process that ends up leading to Tails... lot's of 'em :-)  Here's a story about the last three weeks in pics and quips.

First, a friend came to visit!  Maybe because she was curious about what goes on the middle of the country under the guise of coming to see me (love ya, Cary!), it's anybodies guess (and probably a little bit of both)!  Either way, my doors are wide open, the towels are clean, the coffee is good, and diversions are a plenty.

Cary (and me, still!) was excited about pumping gas.

There's a TIger in my Trunk!

and then she was treated to an EPIC Mizzou Homecoming Football Game.

Look at those ROTC kids futiley sitting on the goal posts...

See... can't stop the ZOU crew from claiming there trophy.

We also took in a little BubbaCross...

This was before my massive digger (Fall)... I think I might have broken a finger..
It's getting X-rayed next week.  Like all of my injuries, I give them two weeks to heal before I raise the alarm and get them checked out... spoken like a true athlete in denial. 

Ah Vuvuzelas!

And then it was Halloween... and I couldn't let this opportunity pass.  Halloween on a week-end?  Two cyclocross races?  That calls for two fantastic costumes!  And one thing I've learned from past experience riding in costume... one must consider the movement and the "not getting things caught in spokes" rules.  Capes are out, spandex is in... and if you're good, and your butt is as high in the air as mine.... costumes with tails are the best!

Cheshire Cat meets a scarily, squeeky Binky

I'm just too fast for the camera!

My Avatar raced with the Men's Bs... That's right, on the front!

Peter looks concerned that I am leading the race... that's right, the whole RACE.  For a whole lap!

Check out that air!

And of course, what would fall be without a half-marathon.  Last year it was the strangely warm EWEB Run to stay warm at which I set my PR (1:27).  This year was no different... not a PR (that was set last spring in Eugene 1:21), but it was stilly scarily fast (1:22) at the St. Louis Track Club Half-marathon.

I'm the one dressed in Brooks Nite-life (can't miss me), leading the pack!  It's only mile 1....

Bringing it home with one-mile to go 1:22:19

And that's about it... I've got three times the racing fun this week-end and my first weather challenge (it's a very blustery day with a really good chance of rain!  Thanks to all the people (Peter, Stacey, Heidi, Rich, Brent, and Cary) for keeping me in pictures!

There's a bathroom on the right...

...sung to the tune of "Bad moon rising."

Everybody now. I actually got this song stuck in my head during my long run on Sunday and the "bad moon" became a "bathroom" mantra as I neared the end.

I've been training. Really. I managed to run eight whole miles on Sunday without stopping to walk or gasping for breath (though I did eventually stop and find that bathroom). Of course, my running schedule actually said "10 miles with a 2-mile tempo section". I translated that as 8-miles with a one-mile tempo section followed by gulps and gulps of Clif drink. You see, no matter how early in the morning I get up to go running, it's still hot and humid and I still lose the weight of a small child in sweat. Monday it was so bad that I could wring my shorts (Brooks running, there's an apparel challenge for ya!) and I left puddles on the kitchen floor while attempting to rehydrate with iced coffee.

So, here's the skinny. What am I training for exactly? This is going to be great. First, I lived in Oregon for how long...? 2.5 years. How many times did I want to race Hood-to-Coast and not do it? 2.25 yrs. I move away, and that's when I get on a team. But, if good things come to those who wait, I got handed the mother of all opportunities. My adopted team is called "Slug-hunters" and this group is making me feel like one of the family! If you are an Oregonian friend reading this blog post, definitely come party with me in Seaside on August 28.

What else? Ooh-ooh. This Sunday, my awesome temporary roommate Peter (and married so don't get your hopes up) and I will be competing in the New Belgium Brewing Urban Assault Race! Five obstacle course check points, two mystery checkpoints, and an entertaining ride around downtown St. Louis on the 'cross bike. I can't think of a better way to kick-off my cyclocross training.

And then there is the Lewis and Clark Half-marathon.  That one is looming on the schedule in October.  I'll think about that a little later when the weather cools.  For now, hand me another cold one and let's chill!

Race Report: The San Diego Marathon already

You asked for it.  The no-holds barred account of the 3-hour marathon that wasn't.  There goes the punchline.

Actually it's not as bad as all that.

To get you in the right mindset.  Imagine me, with my admittedly newbie approach to racing a marathon, standing on the starting line at 6:15 AM on a muggy, sickly warm morning in San Diego.  I look behind me and I see THOUSANDS of people pressing the start line.  I am lined up about four-rows back, behind the elite men and women, but first among the amateurs.  My heart is pounding in my chest.  I nervously dance around to the jam music blaring across the speakers.  I hug my sis good-bye and turn towards the stretch of empty road (save for the follow car) in front of me.  I manage to stand still for the National Anthem.  And then a barely audible horn blows, and every runner takes off.

It's kind of weird to stand motionless on the start of a 26.2 mile run and "start".  My first inclination after years of 800m training and track starts, is to take off at a long-legged sprint.  That lasts for about twelve steps.  I plant a smile on my face, and settle in for the long haul.   I am already sweating profusely, and my pale Oregonian palor shines like a beacon in the crowd, aided by the day-glo yellow of my Brooks jersey.  Sis Shorty will have no trouble seeing me coming!

I can tell almost instantly that I have settled into a 6:45ish pace.  A couple of runners chat me up and try to get me to run faster with them, but I slowly back off from their fast pace.  Pretty soon, I am running in a loose pack of three or four runners as the half-marathoners (more on this later) turn onto their own course.

The first 5-6 miles are a lot of fun, weaving through downtown San Diego, a few hills to break it up, lots of spectators, and a run by the empty Padres stadium.  I catch some "Go Sunny" cheers in the crowd.  When I look over, it is a family of Indians with signs!  The guy next to me waves to them and gives them a high five.  100 yds down the road, my sis is cheering and Indian Sunny gives her a chagrined wave... I chuckle to myself that in a race with 10,000+ runners, I happen to be running next to a guy named "Sunny".  Dude.

The rock 'n roll bands are welcome company on the road and I am taking in a few ounces of liquid at each of the aid stations.  Around mile 10, we hit the highway.  I'm feeling great, but then again, it is only 10 miles in. It is at this point that the half-marathon joins our course again for a few miles, albeit with a coned dividing line running down the middle of the road.  And then the "fun starts".  First, the half-marathoners are at their 6-mile mark, and we are at out 10-mile mark, which means these runners are roughly half our speed, a lot of them are wearing headphones, and looking for space to run in, crossing the cones, and sometimes stopping right there.  I'm calling encouragement to most as I pass them and just staying as far to the right and out of their way as I can, but I can't avoid a collision with one staggering runner.  Whoops.

The miles click past, and I am still holding around 6:45 to 6:50 (there's a big hill in there).  But, I can tell my stomach is starting to churn and my head feels hot.  The sun comes out at mile 19.  The temperature rises.  And it is game over.  I'm getting the same feeling I got when I had trouble in Eugene... the combo of humidity and heat, not to mention the lonely stretch of the last 6 miles on the barren mud flats.  I slow to some unknown pace that I still haven't calculated. I reevaluate race time goal and try to keep my breakfast down.  Unsuccessful on both counts.  I treated the volunteers at the mile 25 aid station to a show, and did my best impression of the ancient Greek guy who ran the first marathon, staggering the last mile with an amazing amount of grit and determination... "Just keep running, just keep running" (think Dorie in Finding Nemo).  Not as bad as all that, I guess.  But I was really looking for the finish line.  I managed a convincing sprint and when I looked down at my watch, I was amazed to see 3:14:09... an almost 2-minute PR, a Boston-qualifier, a New York-Qualifier, and I was still walking, still upright, and still smiling (sort-of).

I'll take that.

The swimsuit

Racing is awesome.  Racing for charity is even better.  Racing for charity while wearing the coolest, most ironic and punny swimsuit ever... a picture is worth a thousand words (see above).

I am now the proud owner of an OSU Triathlon swimsuit with the words "Fast Beaver" emblazoned and emboldened across the butt!  I earned it by racing a 400 IM and raising a little money for the Swim for Health.  We almost reached our goal of $5000... more than last year.  So, thanks to everyone for donating their time and money and arm strength.  The Tri-ing to Swim-mers finished third in the team competition and did a total of 119 laps in 30-minutes.  It might have been 120, but someone (don't know who tat could be) got a little tired of endless freestyle laps and through in some fly.  The winning team were a bunch of ringers, even recruiting a champion masters swimmer who could do a 25 yd breast as fast as I swam a 25 yd free (I raced him).

For the next eight days, I am a one-sport athlete who does biking and swimming for cross-training.  I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to keep to my marathon taper.  Earlier in the week, I turned a 4-mile run into a 6-mile run because I was zoning so much on the way out on an out-and-back run.  This morning I was so energized to find a hill near my house for my 4x15 seconds of uphill accelerations that my 3-mile run turned into a 4.65 mile run with some parkore practice.  I'm lucky I didn't hurt something.

It's going to be harder to keep to the taper this week-end as I head down to the Umpqua River Valley with all its gnarly single-track, scenic roads, and wineries.  Bike-wine tour anyone?

Marathon ready?

The taper is beginning... I can feel it.  The overwhelming desire to run far distances.  The voracious apetite.  The fidgetty foot that borders on restless leg syndrom.  And it is worse tonight because I was supposed to do a quality 3x mile at tempo pace in the midst of a 9-mile run, but beyond breezy conditions kept it from happening.  Then, the power went out to half of Corvallis, including campus, which meant no treadmill workout (like that was an option... the treadmills at the gym don't go faster than 10 mph!).  Now, I will be up with the dawn tomorrow morning.  Anyone want to meet me at Michael's Landing for a a few sub-6:00 miles?

Everything is falling in place for the marathon.  I've got my travel plans set.  I've already printed out the race confirmation for registration.  I've mapped my route from the hotel to the start line and researched potential places to have dinner in San Diego the night before.  I've stared at the course map and profile so much that I could probably draw them free-hand.  The only thing I haven't done is pack (though I have set aside my shoes, pre-race and race outfits).  Oh, and the best thing: I've got plans to get into the VIP Port-a-potty.

That actual isn't the best thing (though it comes very close).  The best thing is that I am in corral #1... the elite wave, the first runners to go off, toeing the line with people who are going to run 30-minutes faster than me.... wait.  Another thing to worry about, going out to fast.  It's a long way to run with lactic acid in my muscles from the first mile.

Couldn't tell you why this one makes me so nervous... maybe because it is the first one I've trained for.  It's been a long time since I so completely focused my training on one single event.  With triathlon, and especially with triathlon, even if you are training for one event, it doesn't feel like it.  But marathon training the last seven weeks has been so focused that I've even planned my social events in order to avoid being out late the night before key workouts... speaking of which, if I'm going to meet (you?) at Micheal's landing at 6:00 AM tomorrow morning, I best be catching some Zzzzs.

Half way there! The Eugene Half-Marathon Race Report

I though it only fitting to mark the half-way point of my transformation into marathoner with a half-marathon.  And what better place to run one than in Tracktown USA... Eugene, OR.  And did I mention the finish was in Hayward Field?  Arguably, the Carnegie Hall of American distance running?


I started training for the marathon on Sunday, May 4, one day after the Beaver Freezer Triathlon and nine weeks pre-marathon.  Don't try this at home kids, I'm a professional... sort of.  Because of the Showdown at Sundown Half-iron Triathlon, I was already in half-marathon shape, and I had made sure that I had a couple of long runs under my belt in the 1:30 range.  But, all of my tempo/interval training had been shorter or divided with the bike.  It was time to get serious.  It was time to get legit.


In the last five weeks, I have put on three 2+ hour runs: a 16-mile (2:00) loop around Corvallis, an 18-mile (2:15) Tour de NoCo, and a 21-mile (2:40) run that included every bike path in Corvallis, including fire roads in the Mac forest.  Epic.


And so, last week was a rest week of sorts, capped off by what I hoped to be a demolishing of my half-marathon Personal Best.  My planned pace fell somewhere around 6:32 per mile... a 1:26 half-marathoner and a time I hoped would get me into the top three (really wanted to win a bottle of wine).


Bedecked in BrooksID (Nightlife gear so bright a blindman would see me coming) and my new Brooks Launch shoes... the first time I had run in them ever, and that means-like-I've never even worn the style.  I towed the line with my race plan: set the pace early, not get drawn into competition with a stay Olympian who may have decided to show-up for a "good workout", and alternate water with gatorade at everyother aid station, taking the Clif Shot at 45 minutes in.  It was a beautiful plan.


I positioned myself on the front of the starting line, with 8000-strong at my back.  I managed not to embarass myself to much by belting out the National Anthem slightly off-key (the volume was really loud and it drowned me out).  And then the gun.


Race plan fell apart right away.  There was so much cheering and so much great competition... and after all, it is a race.  I positioned myself somewhere around 3rd place, though it was hard to tell because the marathoners were mixed in with us (sad to think that marathoners were running my fastest half-pace).  The first mile was 6:00, then 6:10, then 6:10 again.  And then 6:10 again.  I was actually feeling really good!  But the aid stations were positioned two-miles apart, and I have been babied and coddled by the aid station spacing on half-ironman courses (every-mile).  I wasn't getting enough water or nutrition.  Plus, I've been training with nuun on my long runs, sipping every 10-12 minutes.  Doh!  Might have to rethink training or racing strategy or both. 


Before long, I was starting to get runner belly, and at mile 9, just as I was passing Hayward Field again as the course wound back by the start line, I plowed into a Honey-Pot.  Pit-stop number one.  Out on the course, I saw that I had been passed by two women, and my friend Nick yelled out that I was in 4th place!  Still awesome... if I could just manage to keep it in for four miles.


The next three miles went by in a fog, as I tried to change my running stride to avoid jostling my innards.  But, as we were crossing the walking bridge over the Willamette, I suddenly needed to employ the services of a bush or tree.  I had to suffer another 300yds before exiting the bridge and rounding a bend on the bike path that was out of view of spectators.  Tall grass and bushes hide many sins.  I plowed back onto the course, two more women had passed, and I vowed that no more would do so.  I butt-chugged my way to the finish line, still smiling (there is video of the finish line to prove it... the movie is actually pretty sweet.  They caught my entire finishing stretch.  Fast forward four minutes).  And low-and-behold a 1:24:04.  Vital statistics: 6:25/mile, new PR by 3:48 (only counting road races, not triathlons...whole other beasts), 6th woman overall, 2nd in my age group.  Wahoo!


It was almost worth the hour and a half in the med tent following the race, the two IV bags, the cookie-tossing in the Honey Pot, the violent chills, and the feeling all day that my stomach was never again going to digest food.  Triumph!


So, half-marathon at half-way.  Glad I did it.  Must reevaluate nutrition plan and pace.  Because, based on this, I think I can go sub-3:00 in San Diego.  Don't you think so?  Am I right, or am I right?

Shooting tumors

How did I spend my Sunday morning?  Running.  And shooting tumors.

I started off from my house around 7:15AM, yogged to "the commune" (a amusing name for the two-seperate-apartment-house that my friends live in and essentially treat as a single residence... I am "the-neighbor-who-is-always-there" in this sitcom) where there was a fresh oatmeal and blueberries aid station.  Not to mention coffee (thank you Peter).  Twenty minutes later, I was out the door with Nick, for more errands (a stop at the ATM) and the jog to the Midge Cramer entrance to Bald Hill Park for the Tumor Shooter Big Tumor (the 7-miler; there was also a "Little Tumor" 3-miler)!

This race was mandatory in my mind.  A locally beloved, professional caliber runner, and all-around great chica is battling a brain tumor.  And if she could get more awesome, she also loves Brooks.  Never mind that she has not been living in Corvegas for over a year.  She loved it here, and we loved having her here.  My training partner, Meghan (who is now wicked fast and primed for a sub 2:45 marathon at Napa in a few weeks) is one of her best friends and biggest champions.  Anywho, when her cancer came back a few months ago, she found herself in between jobs and without health insurance for long enough to rack up some major bills (one month...).  So, 100% of the race entry fees went straight to JoHa.  And the other reason this race was mandatory for me, I like to race.... in the mud.

Let the running begin!  Someone get that girl a tan.

I had a "tempo" bit scheduled during my long run anyway, not 7-miles of tempo, but whatever.  Over the hills, and "shoe-suckingly" muddiness (that's right, I got the paper to print those exact words!), and single-track, watching Nick's back slowly pull-away in the second half (he sped up, I did not slow down).  In case you are curious, I'll jump past the punchline.  I won... a giant pink cookie!

Oh, sweet Jesus!  Sorry Clif, I fueled my yog home with refined sugar.

Thanks to Patrick for the excellent pictures, and Nick for the ride home.  He saved me from the last three miles that would have made my long-run just over three-miles too long.  

Sometimes it rains...

And sometimes it doesn't!

Had a full weekend. Here's the short version. Run, swim, bike, run. In that order.

Here's the (slightly) longer version:

Signed up on whim for the Willamette Mission Trail Challenge, a 10K trail run held in the MUDDY river flats of the Willamette River up North in Salem. According to the race website

"Expect very muddy conditions and heck, you may hafta wade through some water too! Be prepared for tons of mud and standing water on the course!"

Rumor had it that with all the rain we had been getting in the soggy Northwest (Thanks, Global Warming!), parts of the course, the park entrance, and the Honey Pot had all been submerged under four feet of water. (I may have made that last one up). But, you wouldn't know it come race day. Don't get me wrong; it was muddy, shoe-suckingly-so in some spots. However, there was little-to-no standing water (except for the giant puddle at the finish which I two-footed). And in most spots you could stump-jump from semi-dry spot, to grassy patch. That didn't stop me, though. I got a respectable amount of mud on my legs, had a run in with an errant twig (left a sweet mark on my forehead), and managed to turn my new pink Cascadias into a nice shade of river-bottom brown. It was 10K of sheer joy.

And apparently, I am "the Corvallis fast girl" who "crushed the muddy 6.2 mile course in 43:25" (according to the newsfeed on the Run Wild Adventures website). Crushed might be a strong word for it. Perhaps, squished would be more appropriate.

This is the face of someone not having fun.... (Oregonpixels.com)

And then there was Sunday. Oh, beautiful Sunday. How often does the sun come out, warm my back, and freckle my nose in the depths of winter? Well, apparently at least once. The last day of my first build to half ironman shape. The day I needed to get in a 4+-hour road ride no matter what (okay... I would have done a 4-hour cyclocross ride if the weather were really terrible). The day I had circled in pink highlighter on my calendar as the evening when I would eat dessert and imbibe on the fine pinot noir I had selected from Eola Hills, just up the road near Rickreall, as a special treat for being good for three whole weeks. Yes, that day turned out to be bright, mostly sunny, no rain, dry roads, only a breath of wind, awesome.

And to top it off, I had a fresh collegiate, 21-year-old riding partner capable of ripping my legs off as we climbed up Decker Rd. for the last 10 miles. I earned that pinot noir.

Rave Run: Mary's Peak

Imagine a drippy Saturday morning in Oregon. The temp hovers at 50 °F. A forest with trees as big as 5 ft. in diameter. Spanish moss cascading from winter barren branches. Weak sunshine filtering through the clouds, brightening already vivid woody colors and deafening the sounds of our footfalls.

Footfalls? Running... After a home-made vanilla latte at Cafe Petro (more on this someday), Blair and I hopped into the Beeper for its first off-road experience and the 20-minute drive up Woods Creek Rd. to the base of the Northridge Trail. To local mountain bikers, the Northridge Trail is the holy grail, the nemesis, the scene of major whammies, and the source of their best stories. But on this fine morning, we saw no tire treads, barely any footfalls, and heard only the soft drumming of a misting on the branches and leaves far above our heads.

We started out on fire road 2005 heading towards Conner's Camp, passing through the closed gate, we encountered a single track off to our left. We followed this for a bit before it wound back around to the road. Figuring this was where we were supposed to be (running uphill), we turned left on the road again and continued along for a half mile. Something didn't seem right to me at this point (I thought we should be on single track). So, at a flagged tree, Blair and I turned into the woods along a game trail.. a narrow, sometimes non-existant scramble through underbrush, over downed trees, and across creek beds. We ran/climbed/scampered like this for a few minutes... I'm sure Blair was wondering where on Earth we were going. But, I was in charge of the show, the gal with the plan, and he said he was there to follow me. That's a lot of responsibility. Fortunately, I have a natural sense of where I am supposed to be, and before either of us had a chance to question if this was the right thing to do, we stumbled onto the Northridge Trail.

We again turned uphill... and ran for 45-minutes up the single track. It wasn't a "straight-up", but more of a gentle climb along the contours of the mountain. The air got wetter. We ran through pockets of warm air. Occasionally, we had to slow to climb over downed trees, navigate cascading tree roots, and twinkle-toe through rock gardens. And up, and up. For four miles. But it never seemed like too much and we didn't encounter anybody on the trail. At some points, I was running holding my breath as the trail came precipitously close to tossing us down the nearly sheer slopes.

The pace and the not super uphillness gave us a chance to talk. So, as we ran, Blair and I talked about the Beaver Freezer (OSU's annual fundraising triathlon), yoga, Haiti, cooking (he makes tapioca rice pudding by the gallon and I make chicken soup by the gallon), racing as a professional triathlete, and movies. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all, just breathed and ran.

At long last we reached the top of Mary's...at 4,097 feet, it is the highest point in Oregon’s Coast Range and the most prominent peak to the west of Corvallis. In the woods, we were shielded from the weather. At the top, out in the open, it was colder, rainier, and windier, and we were glad when the trail crossed the parking lot and dipped back into the woods. We had taken the short-cut to the top and planned to run down the East Ridge Trail, taking the Tie Trail back to Northridge. However, crossing the parking lot at the top proved difficult as the clouds shrouded one end from the other. We couldn't see more than 50 ft to where we were going, but after a minute or two running the perimeter, we picked up the trail again and started heading down... so we thought.

It was glorifyingly down hill, and we readjusted the hip flexors and quad muscles for the descent. At the junction with the Tie Trail, we encountered our first people of the day. I was focusing more on my footing, calling out my customary greeting to the hikers "Hi, how are you?!" One hiker called out, "Great, have a good rest of your run, Sunny". Which caused me to nearly fall off the trail. I came to a stop and recognized Mel and Eric, a couple from my cycling team, Pacific Power/Blue Sky. We exchanged a few words, not wanting to let the blood cool to much, Blair and I headed back down the trail quickly. A couple of strides in, he comments... "we've met six people total in 7 miles and you know two of them." What can I say? Most of the people I call friends are active. Stands to reason I would see them out on a cold raining day ascending the highest mountain in coastal range. ;-)

At this point, we thought the trail was all downhill. Wrong. Be prepared, you will run about a 3/4 miles more uphill to meet the junction with Northridge. That was the only part of the whole run that was grueling. After that, we bounded, ran, leaped our way down the switchbacks back to the car. The caffeine had long ago been replaced by adrenaline. We found the trail head that we should have used to avoid our bushwacking (turn right on the fire road from the other trail, proceed 9.2 ft). The real single-track came out 100 yds from the Beeper, and then end of our off-road rave run.

Epic.

Reporting back: Part 2 Mac Forest 15k

Thought I would post this before another awesome week-end began, commenced, convened, took root, you get the picture. It's been almost two week, which is just long enough for my hip flexors to loosen-up, my black toe-nails to fall off, and my bruises to turn from nice deep purple to yellow.

Sunday morning. Post-cyclocross crash. Post-early morning mocha. No rain! Actually, kind of sad about this. I joined Dave, Stacey, and Syd at Dixon for a carpool out to Peavy Arboretum (how very green of us). At the race site, I ran into friend's Jeff and Meghan, at which point Jeff informed me that he was going to run with me the entire race (yeah) and Meghan told me about a famous ultra-trail runner woman that was entered (not Meghan). Oh (eyebrow raised)?

They were playing funky-town music over loud speakers to get everyone in the mood. Syd and I got our groove thing on while waiting in line for the Johnny-on-the-spots. Before I knew it, race time was here. I lined up near the front, pretty sure I would be finishing in the top 30 or so.

And we were off... the first part of the course (as you can see from the elevation profile) is somewhat mellow looking. It goes along a fire road for about a mile before diving into single track on Calloway Creek Trail. Then the ankle twisting turns and undulating little ups and downs begin. Jeff was nowhere to be seen, but I settled in with a cute tall guy from Eugene named Rob (he's married and we are now FB friends). He would catch me on the downhills and I would lose him on the ups.

Then the real "up" begins. Someone asked me a couple of weeks before the race if it was hilly. I replied that it was less "hilly" and more just "hill. Again I refer to the elevation chart. My race plan from the start was to run slightly too easy on the first few miles so that I could really work the giant climb to the top of Powderhouse Trail (1300'). And that is exactly how it worked. I missed Rob weakly-jokingly calling out "wait for me", but instead eased into my uphill mojo, passing numerous people. Leaving them to wonder how I was doing it.

Then the downhill started, and here is where I suck. My high center of gravity, long stride, Morton's toe, sense of personal safety all prevent me from letting loose down Bonsai Trail (refer to the 1100' to 500' nose-dive that the course takes which, despite the drawing, does not involve a negative slope or any sort or rappelling). Jeff passed me near the top, with a "I didn't think I was going to catch you" and "Come with me". Yeah, I'll work on it.

Here's the thing.... my realistic goal was to complete the 15K sufferfest in 1:10:00 and to feel really good on that awful last steep climb that comes in the final mile. And I felt great. The PF was a tiny bit sore, thanks to an ankle bauble at mile 8. But, I felt awesome, and I hauled into the finish line, almost catching a few of the myriad that passed me on Bonsai. And I finished in 1:09:36, 32nd overall, and 4th female.

And I had an awesome time. Even more awesome was the noodles and tomatoes and cheese sandwich that I had for lunch and the Sunday afternoon football game that I watched through my eye-lids (napping) that afternoon!

And guess where I got the picture of the elevation profile? The sadistic race organizers who came up with this course put it on the back of the race shirt. Guess they figured if they put it with the course map, no one would race.

Race week-end

Back from Switzerland and at it again.

Today, I'll be an athletic supporter at the Strands 5K in the morning. Later, I am the official "Dead Meat Chef" at the Willamette Valley Cyclcross race... orchestrating the post-race grillin' up of beast parts so's everyone on my Pacific Power/Blue Sky team (and others) can get their RDA of nitrates and other performance-decreasing substances. Sauerkraut anyone?

In the afternoon, it is my turn to tear up the golf course. The bike is race ready again, thanks to cycling buddy Denny. He used up his yearly quota of expletives while replacing my cables last week. He had to remove my old grimy bar tape that had congealed with the handle bar. It took hardcore paint stripper to get that stuff off.

After that I submerge the lower half of my body in an ice bath, watch OSU kick USC's a$$ in football, and continue to carbo load for Sunday's adventure: the sufferfest known as the Mac Forest 15K trail run. I'm trying to break 1:10, for the 9.whatever course if that gives you any indication of how hilly and hard it is. And, to make it even better.... It's been raining sinks and stoves every other day, and race day is supposed to be another wet one. Do you think I should put the spikes in my shoes or just hope the waffling on the Brooks Cascadia's (I've got the pink ones, of course) is enough to keep me from slipping to my death?

I'll report back.

On the eve of CX...

What's happening? Big changes happening this week-end! Lot's of transitional stuff. Some welcome, some not so.

First thing: This is officially my fourth week of running. I am still doing everything my PT has laid out for me to do (takes 1 hr + a day!). This has been super hard as my gym closed for three weeks of cleaning! Three weeks. What kind of gym closes for three weeks? I'm forced to be creative (I hate that). I am using my front stoop for "box jumps". I incorporate my lunges and hops into my runs (what is that strange girl doing in the park???) I have converted my living room into a yoga/ plyometrics gym. And my torture collection that includes The Stick, the foam roller, the extra-long yoga mat, Trigger Point tools, and the slant board have become my living room furniture. I don't sit and watch TV any more. I foam-roll and watch TV. Stick me!

Thing 2: It rained this morning. First hard rain in a long time. I went running anyway. This is a "rest" week, so I dragged a slower, "shorter" runner into the Mac Forest for a training run (his first run in the forest). When I called him, it was pouring. He asks, "Do we run even though it is raining...." Um, yeah. You want to go running in the rain this time of year because it is warm. Acclimate yourself to the rain in warmer weather and you will be more likely to head out when it is just plain awful and all the sensible people are sleeping-in. If you don't run in the rain in Corvallis... you never run.

Third thing: Cyclocross is here! Tomorrow I ride in the first (and only, I think) Cyclocross stage race in the Pac Northwest. I have no idea what to expect, other than some typical craziness and debauchery following. The event is held over two days. There is a 3K time trial and a 1K-30 minute crit on the first day. Day two is a "cross country" style ride with a really long loop course that we will fly around for 1:30. Egads! That's not a typo. I'm hoping there is a feed zone of some sort. No place to put a water bottle on a cross bike!

Fourth thing: Cash for Clunkers... I no longer have my clunker. But, I also no longer have any cash. Instead I have a sexy new Subaru Forester. It is ridiculously new. We are talking, 65 total miles on the odometer new (that was seven days ago....now there are slightly more because I can't stop driving it). It has been a major struggle to bike commute. I only managed it one time this week. Better start soon before it really starts raining or I'll never ride to work again (see previous advice for running in rain)!

Race ready

Ok, maybe not ready. But I am racing! Xterra Portland at Hagg Lake on Saturday. I picked an off-road triathlon because it offers soft surfaces and the potential that my slowness on the run will be less noticeable in the technical terrain post-mountain bike riding.

The deciding factor: I went on a 48 minute run last Sunday and my foot/PF felt good. No early run stiffness or painful stretching of the plantar. No ankle rolling. No shooting pains on sharp turns. Even managed to run downhill without curling my toes under or putting on the breaks. Also absent were the post-run arch cramps (though this could be do to my pre-run ibruprofen).

I kept it easy by playing Sarah McLachlin on the iPod and focussing on keeping my breathing easy. I picked a trail in the Peavy Arboretum that would allow me to bail at any point in my planned 50-minute run... thanks to the several cross trails and loops that form the Calloway Creek Trail system on the NE corner of the research forest. The only thing... I got tired. Fast (or slow?). It's going to take a bit to get my endurance up again.

But, I am racing! And better yet, I am planning on racing for real in the fall. I have my eye on one of two Half marathons in the late season. Amica Insurance Seattle Half Marathon or a Half Marathon in Eugene that Gerhard mentioned. The Seattle one is great because it would allow me 6 weeks of base building (which I desperately need) and 4 weeks to work on speed before a week or two tapor. What do you think? Of course, there is always cyclocross... there was no question there.

Regardless, find me at the Xterra Portland Triathlon this Saturday morning, the Oregon State Crit Champs this Saturday afternoon (I realize these are the same day), and the Portland Freshwater Triathlon on Sunday the

Brooks Running Camp Day 1

Today could have been much more awesome than it was... I was headed to Brooks Inspire Daily Running Camp '09. Since it was near Mt. Ranier and it would have taken me longer to drive to Portland, hop on a plane, fly to Seattle... you get the picture, I deigned to drive. It was supposed to be so easy. Grab running shoes, drive car up I-5 to Seattle, and hang out at Brooks Running headquarters.

Alas, I opened my eyes this morning... or more correctly, I opened one eye this morning. The other was swollen up almost closed. It was 5:45 am. I was meant to go to work for one hour and then hit the road in time for a lunchtime arrival. Instead I spent the next four hours sitting on my hands until the urgent care opened at 8:00 am, finally opting for a quick prescription for some powerful antihistamines from my doctor. But then the pharmacy didn't open until 9:00 am, and OF COURSE it takes 15 minutes to actually fill the prescription once they get it off the fax machine. Dude.

This has happened to me one other time before... nine years ago, when whatever IT is hit both eyes at the same time. But, I still wasn't sure I could drive with one eye. However, nothing was keeping me away from running camp. I have been looking forward to it for months (two to be exact)! I decided to hit the road one-eyed and just see how it went.

It went fine, but now I was so late! I was meant to be at Brooks HQ North of Seattle by 1:00 pm and I was worried about holding up (or missing) the group shuttle to Crystal Mountain. Worse, I couldn't figure who to call to tell them what had happened (yikes). So, I went straight to the resort which meant that I missed seeing all the cool production lines, the hall of fame, meeting Karl and Carl (see video below... my favorite one, but there are a ton others), and hanging with other IDers along the beautiful drive through the Mt. Ranier wilderness. Very sad....

Now I am just waiting for everybody to get here... but in the meantime I took a little "walk" to the top of Crystal Mountain. It was less of a walk up/down, than a climb up/scree-slide down. And I didn't make it all the way to the top because it was very muddy and snowy and menacing-cloudy. I'm sure I'll have plenty more opportunities (me thinks).... oh, hope they get here soon!

Run in an ellipse...

My inability to manage the elliptical machine is well-documented (see previous post). My legs are just too long to get a meaningful workout. And me on an elliptical probably looks like a giraffe trying to ride a tricycle. It's just wrong.

But, then I spied the Precor AMT off in a corner of the cardio room, facing a concrete pillar, and looking like just another cardio machine. Aside: In order to make indoor training bearable, I jump from machine to machine for 10-15 minutes at a time... and I had not tried/seen this one before. It looked like a cross between a stair-stepper and an elliptical. And when I started up on it, it felt as if I was bounding up stairs. I grasped the hand-poles and as I sped up my cadence, something crazy happened.... my stride switched from a bouncy stair-step to an almost run. The closest an elliptical has ever gotten to mimicking an actual stride!

Now it wasn’t perfect, the “stride” was a shortened, jogging version of my stride, but it was something. And it had me working hard. The only problem... I was working hard on the lowest resistance! I can’t imagine what weaker runners have to do to get full extensions (or maybe I am delusional and also one of the “weaker” runners now). Either way, it felt really great to get my heart rate over 120 and feel the burn in my quads. Runners — tell your gym to get one of these.

Despite all, I couldn’t resist running for 10 minutes on the treadmill. My PF is coming along. I’m not tentative to step on it anymore, so I am not favoring that leg and bollixing my right leg in the process. But, there is still more pain and discomfort than I would like and I am not about to run more than 20 minutes to find out if the pain “goes away”.

Partly cloudy

Back from California, and the weather is typical: cold, rain, what did I expect?  Well, I did expect to haul in two of my last hard weeks before starting my mini taper for Wildflower Triathlon.  Bike miles, check.  Strong swimming, check.  No running: WTF?  I went for a great easy run on Monday night around Bald Hill.  Good run, plantar on left foot a little sore, but nothing to write home about (or blog).

Ahem.

Tuesday morning... a little painful taking that first step out of bed.  45 minutes later... I'm running a good long tempo workout with Meghan.  1st hard effort goes fine.  2nd hard effort, I get half way through and I have to stop because my heal feels like it is hitting a giant rock ever step!  OMG.  I finished off the workout, sort of.  But the jog, that eventually deteriorated into a walk, was awful and by the time I got to work, I was limping.  And I don't limp.

Meghan helped me out big time last night with some deep tissue massage and a flexi-tape job.  I can actual put pressure on it today, but the Run for the Roses Half Marathon this week-end is out.  Along with my second, shorter, hard workout tomorrow and possible my easy run in the forest on Friday.  Bollocks!

On a side note:  Colbert was on a role a few nights ago.  Are we all narcissists?  Updating our status on Facebook to say that we are updating our status on Facebook.  Tweeting that we are updating our status on Facebook.  And adding details of the status update on our blog.  Maybe a little.  But I prefer to say that we are connecting with our people on an even higher level (or junking up the electric waves).  Ah the bygone days when we wrote letters, only told personal stories to close friends, and had to put a quarter in the slot to make a phone call on the road.  I must be getting older.  Hmmmm....  I'm updating my status on Facebook to say that I am blogging about the days when I didn't blog :-)

On track.

Running that is.  I hit the track this early evening during a break in the lab.  It is sooo nice to finally have a little daylight savings.  Living near the Mason-Dixon line all my life, I never really noticed what a difference it makes.  Now, the evening light stretches until nearly 7:00!  Though you wouldn't have known it today for all the cloud cover.

Back on track... my first real speed workout of the season (I have been doing distance-y speed with Meghan).  The goal was to run something resembling 5K pace for a few 800s, with very little rest in between.  And I was doing it alone (sad), which made it harder.  I was so proud of myself though for even attempting this workout.  I spent most of the day psyching myself up and then almost psyching myself out.  In the end... not so bad.  Quite good actually.  I managed a convincing 5:40 mile pace for all and even managed to pick it up a little on the last one.  I could have suffered through another at the end, but decided to end on a high note.  Often enough, I leave the track devastated.  I think I am going to reward it with a beer and a burrito during my next break in the lab (it is a long one tonight). 

I also have some props to give.  To Dave and his commitment to "killer" bread.  You might recall that I got a chance to meet Dave at the Portland Trout Triathlon (that I hope to race again summer 2009) last summer:

Anywho,  I was shopping at the Southtown Co-op (Boulder people, don't be jealous that I have a co-op and you don't... you have a Sunflower Market) last night and saw this sign on the bread rack:

"Dave's Killer Breads has temporarily discontinued the Dave's Killer Spelt Bread due to their current spelt flour not performing.  They expect another shipment of spelt flour next week.  So as soon as the new spelt four "performs" we will have their spelt bread back on the shelf."

Props, Dave...  I like commitment like that.  Hope the spelt starts performing!

101 and the Saturday Rave Run

First, I have no posted 101 times!

Second, I got some running in sunshine!  Runners from the Corvallis Trail Runners, Heart of the Valley (HOTV) Runners (my group), the Corvallis Running Project, and a few other non-affiliates met up at the 29th St. Bumper for a little forest running Saturday morning.  The ultrarunners were putting 3 hrs. on their legs, and some like me wanted less than 2 hrs, so we caught them mid-run coming from town.

Courtesy of the dry weather we have been having, the trails were "mucky" instead of "muddy"... an important distinction that means the difference between having your foot stay put where you plant it and sliding off the trail and catapulting into a tree in an imitation of a person falling from a plane without a parachute.

The first part of our run was a 40-odd-minute slug up to Dimple Hill through Chip Ross and then up Dan's.  Once at the top, we shed layers, regrouped and sidled around on the fire-roads, Hydra trail, a trail-to-remain-nameless that led to the top of Bombs Away, and then finally down Horse Trail back to Chip Ross.  The whole thing was at conversational pace, a total of 11-miles through the winking sunbeams filtered by the trees and ferns.  My longest run this year and it felt great.

All was fine until the last 400 yds back to the cars.  We hit a patch that could best be described as muddy (see previous description).  It came after a hair-pin turn and just after the beginning of a really steep section... Arms and legs went in four different directions as they searched for purchase... I came to rest on two feet (thankfully) about a foot from a barbed wire fence (ooohh... that would have hurt) and best of all, not taking any runners out with me.  Gerhard was behind and he gave me some major props for the save and not pulling a muscle.

After that, I figured I deserved sustenance and awesomeness in the form of a bottomless cup of coffee and a southwestern-style omelette at Zia's on 3rd St.... can you say "mouth on fire"!  I think this may be the second time that I have discovered that jalapenos and coffee don't mix :-)

The Art of the Potluck

When I think of a potluck, food comes to mind.  And people coming together for these gustatory celebrations.  Sometimes, the potluck is centered around an event: Thanksgiving, Superbowl, the Inauguration.  Sometimes, we put a theme on the potluck ala Iron Chef: Everything must have chocolate in it, you must bring red food.  And sometimes, it is a competition, like a chili cook-off or a pie competition.  But, you know, more than the food that shows up, its the people that make the difference in a successful potluck, and the unique talents and gifts that they bring.

So, I suggest that a potluck can describe just about any group where the uniqueness of each individual is celebrated... even, say, a bike ride.  What got me thinking about this?  Well, I actually did start over with my training for the year.  No more sickness, dehydration, or snarky stummy.  And last week, was my first "base week".  And to help me get out the door for my long run/ride, I joined the groups.

On Saturday, it was the HOTV runners for a turn around Bald Hill, Mulkey Creek, and back to Oak Creek.  I jumped into the middle of Gerhard's and Jeff's 2:45 run for my piddly 1:10 (it will get longer!).  The potluck part:  Between the five of us, not one attended the same church, worked at the same place, or spent our free time the same way (even family time we discovered differs among us).  But, for that brief time, we were all running 7:45 miles, discussing the football play-offs, TV shows, Sports Illustrated, and of course food (we were hitting up Great Harvest for their anniversary celebration after the run... free coffee and cookies, baby!).  It was a potluck of personalities where we all brought something new to "the table".  Gerhard even brought a new runner :-).

On Sunday, I joined a different kind of group.  I met up with the OSU triathlon team (a collection of alumni and current students and faculty like me) for a little pedal-pushing.  And did I ever push those pedals!  These guys are pretty speedy, multiple Hawai'i Ironman qualifiers among them.  We headed for the valley, "stagnation inversion" be-damned (which I can't tell the difference) under clear skies and light winds.  After a little 10-mile warm-up, the groups split and I jumped behind the longer group and just held on for dear-life.  The ride proceeded like many others before... with people off the front, hills, pace-lines, pee-stops (where it was discovered that I am a girl when I jumped into the woods... up till that point I had fooled at least one of my fellow riders).  And then a dog ran into our group... taking down Ben.  He took it like a champ, rolling off the pedals onto the ground and only sustaining a sore shoulder and a de-trued wheel courtesy of running over the dog.  We gave the owner a piece of our mind.

I probably took it a little too hard this time, but it was hard to tell my fitness before-hand.  Among the group, I was one of the few who still had some legs on me for the final push.  And as it turns out, I got to go to a real potluck that evening... the best kind.  The impromptu kind where someone says, "Hey, I bought this huge salmon and it is about to expire.  Let's grill it up and potluck."  That's what we did.

I want to dedicate this post to my friend Smeth, who still gets my award for "Most classic potluck moment".  Smeth was bringing the bread and butter to our Thanksgiving celebration of the Usual Suspects a few years ago.  He was late, and we were all wondering where he was.  Within minutes he triumphantly arrived, proclaiming "I went to three grocery stores, but I finally found turkey-shaped butter!"

Thanks, Smeth!  Shaped butter always tastes better.

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!