Change of plans

My question to a half-awake Doug at 5:50 AM - "How about the one with a rainbow, a unicorn, and a gnome, Okay?"

(You know you want a new sweet swimsuit like this one... Psst, Splish is having a sale!)

Swam a couple of laps in the New Town lake as part of the Big Shark Open Water Swim series finale.  Would have followed that up immediately with my Big Shark tri club teammates and a ride to St. Pauli, but alas - still had the mountain pedals on the road bike from last week's Urban Assault.  Of course, I didn't realize this until I tried to clip in.  Doh!

This necessitated a long drive (40- minutes) home kicking myself the whole way.  Once I switched pedals, I traded the flats of the Missouri Bottom Lands for the bluffs and valleys of the Meramec River hill zones West of Clarkson Rd. and beyond all by myself.  I say that, but there were so many people I recognized on the road that the term "alone" really didn't apply.  Part of the reason I saw so many riders: I took different routes and changed it up a little bit so that I was riding up hills I normally ride down, effectively salmoning people's typical bike routes.  Made for a pretty sweet ride - change is good.

In summary, one Saturday, one swim, one ride, one chocolate banana recovery smoothie.

Race Report: Jingle Cross Mudfest, Day One

Mud, Mud, and More Mud screamed the headline in the local Iowa City paper.  Of course, he could have been writing about the thousands of farm acres left bare that I drove by on my way here from St. Louis.  He was referring instead to Day Two of Jingle Cross Rock.

The reporter got it right; even the concrete was muddy.  And a lot of it could have been rideable except that there were may off-cambor sections designed to be technical in dry conditions, and if you did attempt to ride the cake batter mud, your bike was rendered unrideable.

So I did a running race yesterday in full kit, cycling shoes, and carrying my bike.  Frozen to the bone despite embrocation, not warmed up because of a broken pin on my trainer, wet from the rain, and genuinely jumpy to start the race, I lined up behind eventual race leader Teal-stetson Lee.  Thanks to my erroneous eight points earned in a UCI C1 race earlier in the season contested under identical conditions, I got a call up!

The start was typically fast and elbowy.   Ladies went down in the first turn, in the second straight away, on the second turn, into the tape.  It was as if the mud was just reaching up and pulling you down.  I managed to stay up right and somewhat "in the race" for the almost the full first lap until a surprise corner on gravel sent me super-manning.  It had to be the gravel, right?  My chain off, knees bleeding, I jumped right back on Lynsky and fought for my current position until the end.  Mud, Mud, and More Mud.... Round and round three times only because of how slow the course was running.  I was once again thankful for something during Thanksgiving weekend.

Vital Statistics:  12th place, 3:36 behind the winner. In the points and the $$

Race Report: Memphis in May

April Showers bring May....showers, at least in Tunica, MS.  Memphis in May, made-over with a new location, new race venue, and new course had every bit the hydra-themed excitement it could muster.  A region inundated by floods, so much so that the casino "island" where the race was being held had only recently reopened its doors to patrons after the major flood threats had passed.  The race course, swim lake included, was a pristine as it could get.  Clean water.  Flat, fast, mostly pothole clear roads.  In fact, no debris to speak of on the roads except for the minuscule road grit that is inevitable.  It promised to be a very fast race.

My start position was #1064 in the time trial start...every 3 seconds a swimmer jumps into the water.  Which meant that I was standing around watching the thunder clouds roll in for about 50 minutes.  30 minutes into my wait, the rain started.  Followed quickly by the thunder and lightening so close, that they were nearly crashing together.  And still the swimmers dove into the water every 3 seconds.  I looked around at the hundreds of wetsuit-clad swimmers awaiting their turn, looking non-plussed.  Despite the lightening, I experienced a true lemming moment (Splish... I sense a new swimsuit design out of this one.  "Faster than lightening" or something like that).  Swim start.

In the shallow (at its deepest, probably 6 ft), choppy lake, it took me 500 yds at least to settle in to pace.  I found a good set of feet to draft off for the longest straight-away of the race, before they pulled off to the right following some invisible sight line that I could not fathom.  I sprinted out of the water into a steamy downpour and ran through the mud of the transition to my bike.  My first thought as I tore at my wetsuit - "I need to practice my transitions more".  Besides that, it was quick work getting on to the road.

Once on the road, I settled down into a pace that kept me in site of my nearest competitor in the Open Amateur Female division.  She had an aero helmet and a disc wheel and when I finally pulled around her, she commented that the weather was "scary".  Agreed, but I didn't want to dwell on it.  The roads were treacherous enough... by themselves, the pavement was smooth and impeccably maintained for the race.  The rain and wet, however, increased the chances of a flat tire, especially on over-inflated time-trial tires.  Along the race course, there were at least 1-2 people per mile dealing with a puncture.

The bike course was FLAT and fast, and I generally did the passing, except for a few elite amateur males and, to my dismay a couple of elite amateur females.  Disc wheel passed me back just before the finish of the bike, and I did my best to stick on her tail (that would be in a non-drafting tail).  Still raining, though back to a light drizzle, I did my best interpretation of a bike-to-run transition.

Here's a shocker, the run was flat and fast.  I was thankful for the overcast skies, slightly miffed at the head wind the last two miles, and confused as to which of the women I was passing where actually in my category (we did not have any special designation on our calves for the open wave).  As the miles ticked by, my legs eventually found a rhythm.  And I passed, one, then two, then two at once of the competitors in front of me.  And there was still one up there.... At the turn around, I cursed my ability to math in my head.  The lead woman had a whopping two minutes on me with two miles to go!  It didn't quite take the wind out of my sails, but my legs were slightly less springy as the wind picked up, the humidity rose, and the specter of the casino towers crawled into view.

The last few miles went by in a blur.  Actually, the "blur" was the young woman who pulled a brilliantly classic runner move to pass me in the final 200m to take second place from my clutches.  She had started 9 seconds behind me in the time-trial start, so I immediately knew that I was relegated to third place.  In that competitive field and considering my still rusty competitiveness, I was excited to be on the podium.

Appendix - During the run, I kept looking at my watch wondering why I was running so slow according to the mile markers, ~ 7:15/mile.  Ah-hah!  The course was actually 6.7 miles.  The "as advertised" olympic distance was measured as 6.23 and ended up being a half-mile longer.  I was robbed!  Had the race ended when it was supposed to, I would have gotten my 2nd place!  Kidding.  My mantra, is run the race as it comes.  That includes lightening, mismeasured distances, and blurs.

Race Report: Cherry Blossom 10-mile

It ain't called the "Rite of Spring" for nothing.  The cherry blossoms were in full bloom.  Washington D.C. looked like a shining jewel. And hail stones the size of peas fell with all the force of gravity and then some from the sky. Say what?  Luckily that was Saturday.

I rode the metro into the heart of the city around midday, hoping to have skillfully avoided the swarms of competitors at pick-up by timing it to coincide with lunch. No dice, the line was wrapped around the National Building Museum, itself the size of a city block.  I chatted the whole time with a guy I had met on the metro, whom I wish I could say I had singled out as a fellow racer using my powerful deduction skills, but the slightly worn Asics running shoes and the race printout gave him away immediately.  We exited the metro and found our place at the back of the line, which as it turns out was more of a leisurely stroll in the rain as the packet pick-up was so efficient.  Even so, it took 30 minutes to get my number and then I shot through the expo and back out onto the streets.  I had sights to see.

First up, the FBI.  I used the facebook feature "where are you" to indicate that I was at Federal Bureau of Investigations Building (even though I was only outside).  Then, on to the National Mall and the White House.  All the pictures I took with my hand out stretched in front of me, camera turned back at me, make it look as if I am standing in front of a blue screen.  I swear, I wasn't.  The best irony of this day, the protest occurring on the front lawn of #1 Pennsylvania Ave and looking out toward the Washington Monument... against "sexual mutilation" namely, circumcision.  I have few opinions on this matter.

On to race day.

I again rode the metro in to downtown Washington, DC, along with my cheering squad... Ma and Pa Gilbert.  I jumped off the metro one mile to early in order to get a warmup... should have checked the map, because my mile warm-up only took me three minutes.  Either that, or I was ready to run REALLY fast.

Chilly, slightly breezy, but sunny and full or promise.  That is if my runner-tummy would settle down.  You know the one, the same condition that forces you to jog in place, stretch, and do drills while standing in line with 15,000 people at the Port-a-johns.  I took care of business, checked my clothes, chugged an espresso Clif Shot, and pounced on the line.  Thanks to my "seeded" number, I got to be positioned in the front coral, right behind the row of Ethiopians and Kenyans.  Of course, I should have been a few more rows back, but I was going for 10-seconds of fame.  And there is just something surreal to look ahead and see empty road and look behind to see the crush of thousands.

Gun went off and I got passed by 100 guys instantly. Then is it was a few ladies.  Over the famous bridges and back, along the waterfront.  Back around by the spectators.  I was feeling okay.  Still hadn't settled in to a pace, and I was still being passed by people who I should have started behind.  Somewhat demoralizing to be passed so much.  Whoops.  I did however, stick on a group of women.  I figured that I was somewhere around 15th in the amateur race. At this point, we swing by the start/finish line and sea of spectators.  I spotted both Ma and Pa and I think I smiled convincingly enough for the cameras (though, not the race photographers... yikes they caught some bad ones!).

Mile 7, finally feeling in the groove.  Finally!  And just in time to hit a part of the course where the straightaway stretches to infinity, lined with cherry blossoms and the Potomac.  Peace... and racing!  I started to pass back a few of those people who had blown by me in the early miles.  Either that or I had finally fallen in to my pace group.  I didn't care, feeling much better, and charging up the last hill to the finish, I stretched to get in under 1:03.  And I made it!  The actual goal was 1:02:30.  I ran 1:02:47.  I call that a success.

I'm ba-ack!

I had to be.  I signed up for a very high profile 10-miler.  But, I'm getting ahead of the story.  To quote one of my favorite movie characters "Dennis would have hated that."

I've been meaning to travel to Washington DC ever since they signed the Constitution and two good friends settled there post-college (one clearly precipitated the other).  But, let's face it.  Oregon is really far form DC... well, now that I am in St. Louis, no excuses!  Plus, my performance/ pace at the St. Louis Half Marathon finally, finally qualified me for the Cherry Blossom 10-mile seeded runner entry.  I had to prove that I could run 10 miles in 64 minutes.  Ouch!

That race is April 3.  Counting back, that means I should have started training two weeks ago.  Ooops.  No matter, that's why I train all year long to maintain a convincing level of fitness (remember the marathon in four days notice?).  I thought that "convincing" was a relative term, until I motivated a 12-mile long run with a trail race this past weekend.

The Wildwood City Council put on a running race to highlight all the work (and moolah) they have put in to developing the trail system around the Meramac River Valley (Moochas-grass-ias).    The first annual Wildwood Frozen Feet 12-miler was held on a rapidly warming (from 20 degrees C, so describing it as a "warming" might be a bit of a stretch) Saturday morning.  The trails, though, were still covered in an ice/slush mix.  I lined up on the front line, though only planning to run ~7min/mile.  It was a tight start on the bike path and I did not want to get tripped up in the take-off. There was a lot of joking around about the pace I would put on and I suggested that I was planning on running backwards to work on my toe-heel strike (ha!)

First couple miles were on bike path and then we hit the rails-to-trails.  The footing here was less "footing" and more pockmarked, ice-holes with the occasionally bare patch.  I fell into a pack with four or so guys setting that sub-7 min/mile pace (it was a race after-all).  We actually did hit a little bit of single-track down around the Stinging Nettle trail.  I practiced my single-track pass and got my stocking hat ripped off by a branch.  The hat flipped up towards the sky and the guy in third plucked it out of the air like professional baseball outfielder and tossed it to me without missing a beat.  Within 20-steps, I was back in front.

And then there were three: me, Tony, and Andrew.  Still holding that pace, we came upon the two-mile uphill.  Tony expressed the opinion that he might not be able to hang on the uphill but we better watch out on the downhill.  Up and up, steeper and steeper we climbed up on the Rock Hollow trail. Thankfully, most of the ice was gone and only a few patches remained. At the top, cones marked a turn around with a water table and a shout-out from a friend (thanks Andy!).  Andrew and I went stride for stride down the hill, picking our way around the rough parts to step on the saltiest bits.  Andrew commented that he wondered if Tony would catch us at the exact moment we heard his rapidly approaching footsteps.  Forced to pick it up by Tony's pace, we hit the now quickly melting slush path turned slip n'slide for the final stretch.  All three of us kept it tread-side down until we hit the concrete.  By then, it was just me and Andrew, as Tony had made his gallant play for the win and faded a bit.  With a half-mile to go, Andrew and I were going back and forth on whether or not we were going to sprint for the finish (Me -"Are you going to be that guy who out sprints the girl at the finish?" Him - "Well, I am a winner".).  And then, in a split second, the last patch of ice before the finish line, reared its ugly blackness beneath my foot and I hit the ground patella first-followed by a hip, an elbow, a shoulder, and, finally, my back.

Andrew, in a chivalrous, and decidedly good guy move, helped me up and jogged with me 600 yds to the finish line, crossing in sync.  In the end, our times are identical, but some how I got the top line on the results.  But, what a great way to get a long run in!  I'm hoping he might want to join me for a non-race long run in the future.

Here's to the start of my legit race training!  My knee wound/bruise is healing nicely... but my brand new Brooks Running half tights have some new air conditioning in the knee (giant hole).

Race Report(s): Cyclocross National Championships

Grab the coffee, turn off the phone, and snuggle into the couch, this baby is a verbose one!

First, the who, what, when and where.  I arrived in Portland, OR on Thursday night, plane predictably late, hopped into a rented Ford Escape (pronounced ay-'sca'-pay), threw the ginormous but surprisingly light bike box into the back, and headed over the snowy roads around Mt. Hood... destination: Bend, OR and the USAC National Cyclocross Championships.  I had two races, one the Masters 30-34 on Friday and the Pro/Elite(!) Women on Sunday.  Also, thanks to Peter, I had a fabulous homestay for the weekend (a cyclist and all around nice guy).

Off to the races....

If there is one thing you can count on for a cyclocross race in Oregon, it seems to be mud.  Going in to Nats, I was a little concerned that I hadn’t ridden in the slop yet this year.  And I was hoping that my past year’s experience with the unpredictable, quad-busting brown stuff would still be with me and serve me well.

The lay of the land:  I only raced in good old MO this year; I didn’t race the Women’s Masters 30-34+ race last year; and I skipped out on the seeding time trial on Thursday morning.  All adding up to the reality that I was going to be starting in the back of the pack, with lots of opportunities to pass and crash!  The course was really tight.  Lots of hairpins, four spots that required jumping off the bike and running, and, of course, the mud.  How muddy are we talking?  Bend was slammed by a snowstorm the week before the race.  Then unseasonably warm weather melted almost all of it.  Followed by torrential downpours, high winds, and broken by schizophrenic sunshine and you have the makings of a mudfest.

Race Day #1.  Surprise, surprise, I got a late start out the door, misplaced my numbers at race registration, and realized that I didn’t pack my warm-up pants.  Late is not too late.  The numbers were easily retrieved.  And who needs warm-up pants when the fine folks at Lemond Fitness generously set-up wind trainers on the outdoor theater stage for anybody to use for a pre-race spin?  I was bound and determined to show up at the start with my twisted Lynskey clean.

I was lined-up at the start in the last row, maybe five rows back?  Hard to tell from my vantage point… practically needed binoculars to see the first row!  No big shocker there.  Nope, the big shocker came 15 ft. off the start-line (barely enough time to take four pedal strokes).  A woman went down hard, right in the middle of the group from maybe the third row and took out most of the field behind her.  I applied the brakes so hard, my front wheel lifted off the ground.  I slid/jumped off the back of the saddle as the woman next to me landed side-ways bodily on my bike.  I leaned over, lifted my bike and her up, extricated her leg and her bike from frame, and hopped on the bike to see if it worked.  It didn’t, the front wheel had come out of the drops and I had to reseat it before finally “starting my race”!  Check out the video (I’m the Jolly Green Giant in the black Maplewood Bicycle kit #391 and the tall socks trying smile off my misfortune).

I rounded the first turn, finally hitting that mud I might have mentioned earlier.  I immediately starting playing the “pass” part of this game in the tricky lines.  Lucky for me I got right on a woman’s wheel right before she went ass over shoulder.  I had no way of maneuvering around her… all I could do was take all my weight off the handlebars as my front wheel rolled over her face.  I almost threw-up right then!  Except that I miraculously stayed clipped-in and rubber-side down.  I churned through a virtual swimming pool on the course (a 40 ft. mud puddle so deep, my shoes disappeared in it) and continued on my muddy way.

On my muddy way...

The course followed like this – rutted and tricky off-camber turns, a downhill bump, a short-run up that could best be described as a 4ft mud cliff with a semblance of footholds, an uphill bump, a rest-your belly-button-on-your saddle dipper, and that was just the first half. 

We wound around onto the beer garden/vendor side where the course was temporarily marked by a line of beer barrels alongside the Deschuetes Brewery and followed by a set of barriers that came right after a sharp little blind downhill.  These were almost immediately followed by a quad-busting, chain-breaker uphill.  I almost ate it in the barriers on the first lap, and I never got up that hill with out sliding my butt off the back of the saddle and running up it (always getting stuck behind somebody).  What goes up, must come down, and without clipping-in, I barreled down a somewhat treacherous downhill followed and onto a  pavement lip, holding my breath on each go around.  And, we’re not done yet! 

Next, we swung around back on to the “grass”, navigating a dip-turned-creek before hauling up an over-pass that spectators could walk under to get their beer (and coffee, burritos, and frites! Oh my).  This is where the course got even trickier and more funner (and slightly rerouted for later races in the week-end to make it less treacherous…this section will figure in a later race).   It snaked along the expo side and then there were STAIRS… at least 15 of them.  I, of course, took them two-at-a-time for three of the four laps!  And then finally, and thankfully, the lap ended, and it was off to do it again.  The course was so long that in the 40-minutes of our race, we only got to do 4 laps.  That’s good for the ladies at the back; they get their money’s worth!

Coming down from the overpass.

So, that was the race pretty much.  After my two snafoos, I was effectively last for all intense purposes.  I gruelingly worked my way back up to 14^th (5^th Cat2) before the end!

Guess what the crashing did to my baby (the newest addition to my bike fleet)… I spent most of the race in two-three gears as I kept slipping in and out of them each time I tried to shift too far one way of the other.  I figured the hanger was bent (need to get some spares).  What I didn’t figure was buying a whole new rear derailleur.  Upon later inspection (by my excellent friend-of-a-friend home-stay – and hopefully my new friend, Eric, if he can still stand me still- who incidentally put me up, fed me, cleaned my bike twice(!), and entertained me above and beyond anything I would have ever expected) the rear derailleur was toast!  Yes, the hangar actually was impossibly bent, but the B-tensioner screw on the derailleur was ripped off, the arm was bent in, and the barrel adjuster was destroyed.  Practically the only thing it’s good for now is spare sprockets.  How did I ride this bike for the whole race?  Oh, not to mention that the rear wheel was a little out of true (very sorry Stewart).

Thankfully, the guys at Hutch’s Bike Shop in Bend helped me out with the new part and at least my bike was race ready for Sunday.  I discovered all the new scrapes and bruises in the shower, not to mention the late-onset soreness that night.

Racing with the big girls.

I chilled and worked out the muscle kinks with a five-mile trail run, and just enjoyed the unseasonably warm and spectacular weather that arrived in Bend on Saturday afternoon.

The sun was out early on Sunday and I went to watch my friend Blair Bronson rip it up in the Div. 1 Collegiate Men’s Championships (I think it was only his third ‘cross race ever).  It’s funny watching a cross race fully clothed.  Seeing all the mud and pain face out on the course, I had little desire to get out onto the course myself.  But later, as soon as I put on my shorts and jersey (need to get me a skinsuit for next year) and pulled up my tall socks, it was game on.  I warmed up on the stage again (that was so key!) and went to await my call-up.

And, I had to wait a long time.  In a field of over a hundred women, I think my start position was 95^th.  So, much for “randomly” getting screwed.  With women 8-wide on the line, you can do the math and figure that I was in the 9^th or 10^th row.

I am indicated by the yellow arrow... I might stick out in a crowd.  Just a little bit.

This time, it was clean..which is to say that there were no crashes that I was involved in.  And thanks to Bob’s Red Mill, the swimming pool on the course had been reportedly soaked up by a timely application of pounds of steel cut oats.  However, the rest of that section looked like a herd of cows had gone through it, and I found it best to dismount and run this entire thing.  My strategy for the whole first lap: get off and run it!  I did that in three spots, passing an amazing number of women in the process.  I even ran about 50-60 yds leading up to the stairs.  The advantage of running while carrying your bike in that muck?  A free hand to guide the women on their bikes out of your way!

I kept working my way up the whole race.  It was painful and fun.  I traded places with a couple of women for four out the five laps, eventually working my way up into 37^th!  It wasn’t the best display of bike-handling skill and acumen, but it was a major improvement on my result from last year!  And I managed to stay ahead of the Comptonator, which meant I got to race all the laps (she again lapped half the field).  I did have one incident… I was aiming to cut somebody off (my bad!) and she managed to cut me right back on a sharp turn.  In order to stay upright, I swung my right knee out and caught a beer barrel square, tearing a flap of skin off the point of my knee… it bled pretty impressively, and mixed with the mud, I looked really tough.  Not so tough now though, going to have to ice when I get home.   Going to have to ice a lot of things when I get home, actually.

Avoiding the barrels on this lap, but the bloody deed has been done!

MUCHOS GRACIAS to Eric for letting me invade his life for the weekend.  Stewart and Maplewood Bicycle for the opportunity to race out there on probably the nicest (and coolest) bike I have ever owned (I’ll make sure to “own” it soon.  And don’t let my other bikes hear about that; they are a jealous bunch, especially Tigger).  Travis for the used (new) groupo, the bike box, and the heckling from afar.  Stacie for taking me to and from the airport.  My Corvegas (you guys rock!), PacNW/West, and Missouri (that was a cool surprise) peeps for cowbell and pics.  Friends who were sending me telepathic high-fives and goo-oo-ood vibrations.  All the Bubba ladies and Mens Bs who provided fun racing opportunities this year.

Time to let my bruises heal.  Cyclocross done!

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!