That running thing

For the past few months (if by "few" I mean "15") I haven't done a whole lot of running. Mostly not by choice, there was the knee (then back then stomach then century) thing that got in the way. Now that the century is finished I want to get back to my first love, running. So far (knock on wood) it hasn't made my knee or back any worse so I'm ramping up the mileage in anticipation of summer half marathons.

Saturday morning I ran 6 miles. In all honesty it was "ran 3-1/2 miles, staggered 1/2 mile, stopped to chat with my very first running partner (whom I hadn't seen for a year) for a half hour, then ran the last 2 miles." If they made races where you could take a long breather I'd be doing aces! As it is, my endurance is very suspect. Being spring I've got the whole allergy/asthma problem on most days and being spring in the valley I have the whole wind problem. As chronicled many other times I have problems breathing when there's wind blowing into my face. I think it all comes down to this being a WAH WAH WAH quitcher whining, get over it, cut out the damn excuses situation.

So where was I? Right, with the "6 mile" run. I felt very good afterward, not a single ache, pain or spasm. My head felt good, my legs felt good, my back felt good. So Sunday I went for an easy 4 mile run. It went well enough (if you don't count the wheezing) for about 3-1/2 miles when all of a sudden I felt I was going to puke. I got over that after walking slowly for a short bit, then ran the rest of the way. Despite that, I felt like it had been a good run.

Good mostly because Sandy was back in town running with me. It had been a long long time since we had run together, a long time since we had talked, a long time since we'd seen each other. Maybe I was out of breath because I wouldn't shut up. Or maybe I was pushing myself to keep up with her. But it felt like old times and was great having her here and running with her.

Now I need to make a schedule. For now I don't particularly want to run 2 days in a row, at least until I'm sure no body parts are going to be falling off or getting inflamed. My fantasy schedule has me running long on Saturdays, cycling on Sunday, lower body toning on Monday morning, running after work on Tuesday and Thursday and walking on Wednesday. Somewhere I have to stick in swimming as I want to restart that too. Since I'm running directly after work I could possibly swim after that (the pool doesn't open for adult lap swim until late), but it wouldn't be a high quality swim unless I only ran short. In that fantasy schedule I'm also doing core exercises on a daily basis and doing knee therapy exercises a few times weekly and finding time to maybe do some upper body strengthening.

When did my fantasies start to involve so much WORK?

Mole or gopher?

During each of the first several winters of the years after I bought my house I planted dozens (hundreds) of flower bulbs. All different types and colors, lovingly plopped into the ground in the front and the side flower beds. I had 4 or 5 glorious springs with massive displays of flowers that lasted a couple of months each year.

That all ended a few years ago when some burrowing pest decided to make a smorgasbord of my beds. This mole or gopher, or families of moles and gophers, must have thought they had found heaven. It (they?) devoured almost all the bulbs, dug tunnels through the flower beds and deep holes in the lawn. I wasn't happy (actually, I was livid) but also wasn't going to poison the damn thing just to keep my yard pretty. Too many neighborhood cats and dogs made a habit of wandering through my yard and I didn't want to chance killing anyone's pet.

Gopher/mole finally decided he had eaten everything tasty and moved on to greener pastures. There were a few straggly, lonely bulbs left that would shoot up a flower in the spring but I decided not plant more; why put temptation in the way of a pest? Mole/gopher and I lived in a state of peace; I stepped around the holes on the lawn and it consumed someone else's yard. Until about 2 weeks ago.

I have a "mow and blow" gardening company take care of my yards, even though they're supposed to be full service. I never see them since they come while I'm at work. The couple of times I've happened to be home I was unable to communicate with the workers since they (at least pretend to) speak no English. A few weeks ago I got fed up with the state of my yards and wrote a long letter to the owners of the service. Part of my complaints centered on the fact that they had blown away all of the topsoil in all of the flower beds. I realized they would probably ignore my letter but then one day I noticed the ground around some of my plants had been disturbed.

It looked odd and at first I thought it had been a skunk; there were what appeared to be claw marks (but skunks would have torn up the lawn too). Then I decided it must have been a small garden rake since the lines went around the plants. It appeared first in the front, then on the side, and the next week I noticed it in the back yard. Since I've been spending more time in my yard, sprucing it up for the summer, I know what should be where and how it should look and it was definitely looking different. I had to face the sad fact that the pest had returned.

I've been fixing and replacing the outside lights around the house. I went to put a new one in the ground yesterday and an entire tunnel collapsed. Crap. Then I planted a small azalea and another tunnel collapsed. Double crap. On the one hand I didn't have to dig through the very hard dry soil. On the other hand, where the heck is the soil from the tunnels being deposited? There has to a spot with mountains of dirt that I didn't see it. On the first hand, nice aeration of tightly packed dirt! Back to the other hand, there's no soil around the roots of my shrubs! I don't know what to do. Any suggestions out there in blogland?

Rambling Friday

Earlier this week my bro called me and asked if I could look after my nephew for a few hours on Thursday night. I was a bit stunned, since this was the FIRST TIME in 11 years that I was offered this chance. Yes, I've taken the boy shopping for presents but that was it. This time, I was asked to spend a few hours with him and take him to dinner. Wow. I actually had to stop and think about it, which made my bro think I didn't want to do it. I couldn't really tell him I was amazed he was finally giving me this opportunity.

Included would also be, of course, shopping. I'd never gotten nephew a Hanukkah present and had put off our shopping trip for various and assorted reasons. Last night we went to a few stores and I was happy to that although he still tries to get (1) a very expensive total of presents and (2) items I know his parents would find inappropriate, he knows the real limits and will put things back on the shelf if I give him a "look." We had lots of fun deciding what to get (some -- popular tv anime -- toy thingamabobs) and what not to get (Barbie, Elmo, anything girly or too young for him).

We went out for sushi for dinner, although he doesn't like the fishy things as much as the tofu or egg types. It was lots of fun, goofing around, being Auntie. He's a good kid (if just a bit spoiled ...), bright, funny, active. He wore me out!

I don't want to obsess about the weather, but what the hell is up with this weather?? From cold and rainy, to hot and hot and hotter, to cold and windy and rainy. Boots and jackets to shorts and tanks and sandals to boots and sweaters. Spring? Winter? Fall? Summer? Hey, that's why we live in California; there aren't seasons here. In fact, we normally don't even have anything you could call "weather," except in the dead of winter when it gets cold and might - let me emphasize might - rain. Cut it out, Mother Nature. We are not amused.

I'm having food issues these days. I do great until I get home, then good eating habits go out the door. I tend to leave it so late that I'm too hungry to prepare anything decent (even those 7 minutes in the microwave seem too long) and end up eating yogurt, ice cream and popcorn. With Jelly Belly jelly beans for dessert. I rationalize it that I've had a big salad for lunch (which I normally do) with a serving of protein (usually) and so it doesn't matter. Of course it does, and I know it does, and I know I'd feel better eating right, but I'm just not quite there. Since my jeans are not as comfortable as they've been I'll have to turn this around quickly.

My exercise was impacted this week both by the weather and my own uncoordination. I missed Tuesday's run because I was chasing down a tetanus shot (needed since I stabbed myself in the leg with a screwdriver while gardening) (and may I add, OW!) (both to the stabbing and the shot). Wednesday was too hot to run but at least I got in a brisk walk. Thursday I had intended to run on the treadmill in the morning but the blisters from the hot walk made it hard to stand, let alone run. Ditto that again for this morning. One step forward, two hops back. I will run this weekend, blisters notwithstanding. I might first wrap myself in bubblewrap and Body Glide and steel armor ...

Happy Earth Day!

Today in celebration of the environment you should go outside, take a deep breath, hug a tree. Unless you have breathing problems and live in the Bay Area; don't breathe deeply of the polluted air or the high pollen count. And make sure that the tree you're hugging doesn't have thorns or streams of ants or dripping sap.

While there is great dispute as to the cause, there is widespread agreement that the Earth's climate is changing. More storms, more drought, more melting of ice caps and freezing of Dakotas. Most of us have recently said that we can't remember another time when it's been so hot (or so cold, or so dry, or so wet, or so stormy or just so different from what we're used to). I think it's partially because the human brain has a great ability to forget discomfort (which is why we run marathons). But mostly it's climate change. We're a wonderfully prosperous nation with a huge sense of entitlement. Ease and disposability have been the way to go with no cares that our children will not have any resources for the same comfortable lifestyle.

What can you do about this? Wake up! Jeez, it's not like it's not all over the media. There are tons of places with hints for the greening of the planet. Go to a library, pick up a newspaper, turn on your computer. I'll sit here and wait, while I sip my non-sustainable coffee in my non-recyclable cup and then go get a plastic bottle of water to wash it down. Ooops. Let's look to ourselves before preaching to others.

It's also Administrative Professionals Day. Happy day to all those office workers (mostly women) who make business and commerce flow while the bosses (mostly men) take all the credit. Go hug a file cabinet -- oh wait, that's not nearly as much fun as hugging a tree. As a career "administrative professional" who got a degree in forestry (which is why I'm an administrative professional ...) I feel like today was made for me. Anyone else want to lobby to make this a national holiday day off?

A taste of summer

I think Mother Nature is a big fat tease. Yesterday was warm, today was hot, tomorrow is supposed to be hotter and then cool weather and even possibly rain are supposed to reappear by the end of the week. It makes sleeping hard (as if I don't have enough problems there); until today I still had flannel sheets and 3 blankets (and a bedspread) on the bed. The warmth last night made me change today to crispy cotton sheets and 2 blankets, which will still be too warm tonight and tomorrow. But Wednesday night is supposed to go down to 49 degrees and I'll freeze.

Updating from last week, on Thursday I ran 5.5 miles to commemorate my 55 years. I had intended to only run 4 but that number didn't seem to compliment my age. So I kept running and ended up with my longest run in just about forever. It was very emotionally satisfying. As was the piece of cake I had afterward. Well, pieces of cake. Don't tell.

While this weather lasts I'm determined to spend lots of time outside. I ran a quick 5k fun run this morning, quicker because I think the course was a tad short (at least according to Mr. Garmin which said 2.96 miles). I still managed to run myself into an asthma attack since instead of the easy run I had planned, my brain thought "race!!!" and my legs followed. I finished with an average of 11:42 and we all know I don't run that fast ("fast" being relative). That included a very short stop to down a glass of water at the turnaround, and about 30 seconds of walking towards the end to try to stop wheezing.

I felt pretty darn good when I finished, so good that I went home and worked in my yard for several hours. I haven't used my sprinkler system since last fall when drought rationing began. Since it was toasty warm I thought it would be a good idea to make sure my sprinklers weren't shooting water off to the street, into the fence or on the windows. I don't know what I thought I'd do if they were; I don't know how to adjust or fix most of them (and my useless gardeners pretend they don't exist). But I plodded through and did manage to confirm that one spot in my drip system was fountaining 6 feet in the air; I fixed that problem and returned it to drip status. I readjusted the rest of the drip lines so that the plants, instead of the weeds, were being watered, and confirmed that none of the other sprinklers were broken. There are spots getting water that don't need to get water but despite my best efforts I was unable to adjust some sprinkler heads.

Then I thought it would be a good idea to try to fix the lighting system in the yard (... now that it doesn't get dark until later ... ) and see if I could change some bulbs. I determined that the lamps did indeed open and it was possible to change the bulbs. The problem was that the system is about 10 years old, the rubber seals on the fixtures have turned to cement and the rust has jammed the joins shut. I did learn one lesson: when attempting to clean out the seals with a sharp screwdriver, do it on the ground instead of on my leg. Note to self: remember to call and confirm that tetanus shots are up-to-date.

By the time I changed 3 bulbs and gave up on 3 more I was soaked (from a combination of the sprinklers and the heat of the sun) and covered head to toe in mud. I was frustrated that I was unable to fix everything and at the same time relaxed and happy from so much time in my yard. My shower felt wonderful afterward.

Although I accomplished NOTHING that I had planned for the weekend, I nonetheless finished other tasks that were just as necessary for -- um ... ok, not really. I'm very good at prioritizing according to my mood and I wasn't in the mood to pay bills or straighten the house or grocery shop to prepare healthy food for the week. It's a darn good thing that I'm only accountable to myself (... mostly). But as Miss Scarlett said, tomorrow's another day!

Four hours, fifteen minutes

I hit a new age group today. Unfortunately I'm still not old enough or fast enough to qualify for Boston. Twenty five years from today, if I run my current PR (which I haven't come close to for 5 years), I will qualify. Since I'm merely 55 today (holy crap that's OLD!) I'm too young for my speed. Since there are a lot of fast broads in the 55-59 age group I'm still unlikely to win my age group in any type of event, except those in which I'm the only female 55-59.

My 54th year will not go down in the books as one of my favorites. In fact, it could very well rival any other year of my life as the least favorite. This year will be better.

For one, "55" is a much nicer number than "54." It just sounds better rolling off the tongue. Easier to remember.

For another, I've had the marvelous intervention of modern pharmaceuticals. Never underestimate the value of chemistry. There were days last summer when I highly doubted that (and didn't care whether) I'd reach 55. The overwhelming despair is gone, along with the burning pit of hell in my stomach. I don't see giving up my lovely drugs any time in the near future and I'm willing to adjust them as necessary to continue this quality of life.

For yet another, my friends who DIDN'T leave town last year have promised to stay here. Although I tend towards being a hermit, my friends are what make it worthwhile to leave the house. They are fun and warm and caring (and not a little bit pushy) and make sure that I'm doing ok.

Finally, I'm at a point in my life where, for the most part, I can do what I want. I'm old enough to have been there, done that. I know that my mind is strong and focused and determined. Within reason I can push my body to greater limits than I would have ever thought possible at 25 or 35. Although I don't necessarily agree that with age comes wisdom, I think the years have provided many learning experiences.

I'm not celebrating this year. Last year's birthday started a downward spiral from which I still haven't fully recovered so I decided to do things differently this year. I'm going to observe the date the way I want (well, after work -- I still have to work, darn it!). Thirty years ago (hell, 10 years ago) (fine, 5 years ago) I would have gone out to eat and consumed vast quantities of fattening food and way more alcohol than anyone needs, stayed out too late and felt like crap the next morning. Tonight I'm going for a run.

Damn, I AM old!

Moving along

One of the prettiest places in the Bay Area, in my opinion, is the Nimitz Trail at Inspiration Point. So it stands to reason that I'd take my sis and bro-in-law for a walk there while they were visiting. I've dragged them up there before but I can't help showing off the beauty of where I live. The one fly in the ointment is the vast number of cows hanging out on the trail.

Anita met us there Saturday morning for a scheduled 4+ mile walk. Seriously, the length of the walk would be determined by cowage. It was a crisp, clear morning and we could see for miles. Anita and I had fun pointing out our favorite sights and probably got a bit annoying with our enthusiasm. I mean, how many times can someone listen to someone else gushing about the view of the Bay? Or the view of the bridges? Or the view of San Francisco? Or the view of the valley with Briones Reservoir glistening in the sunlight? Or the blue wildflowers (which we still are unable to identify)? Or the poppies or the bunnies or the eagles? Come to think of it, I'm surprised they didn't just take off running and leave us behind.

As we got close to the 2 mile marker we could see a large herd of cows off to the side but they were behind a fence. Except for one lost mama standing on our side of the fence right next to the trail. I hid behind my companions and made it past, but then we turned the corner and realized that another herd was on our side of the fence. Next to the trail. On the trail. Surrounding the trail. I thought I could suck it up, but decided it wasn't worth the adrenaline rush so we turned around just before the 2-1/2 mile marker. I'm glad we did, both to keep the encownters to a minimum but also because by the time we finished, my legs were tired from the hills.

On Sunday the three of us wanted to actually get in a run so we decided on the pancake flat Iron Horse Trail. We decided a half hour out, half back. I warned them about the grade on the trail; it's much easier going out than returning. My sis took off and my BIL steadily increased the distance between the two of us. I was trying to go easily but I'm having consistent difficulties with my legs going faster than my lungs can suck in air.

To purposely slow myself down I was run:walking a 9:1, and checking Mr. Garmin regularly to make sure I didn't speed up. Despite that I was tired at 2 miles and decided that 4 miles would be a good workout, even if it was shorter than an hour. I turned around and headed back up (literally up) the trail and discovered for myself how much harder it was in that direction. But it was a beautiful morning, clear and bright and sunny and cool and breezy, and I was determined to enjoy myself.

I finished my run with about a 12:15 average. Not too bad, not too good. The last half averaged about 15 seconds per mile slower than the first, a little slower than I had expected. Afterward I was tired but also had that "hey I'm a runner again" feeling.

Slowly I'm getting it back. Slowly I'll increase my consistency. Slowly I'll run and slowly I'll re-convince myself that indeed I can run distances. Slow isn't that bad if at least I'm moving forward.

That was quick

This weekend was a whirlwind of activity, family, eating, exercise, shopping, eating and, like usual, not enough sleep. My sis and brother-in-law arrived safely and on time Wednesday afternoon. We told the rest of the family that they weren't arriving until Thursday evening so we had the entire day with just the three of us.

When I was a smoker I never ate sugary products (why, you wonder, is she talking about this in the middle of the family report? Bear with me here). When I smoked my taste buds just weren't interested in sweets. I didn't eat pastries, candy, ice cream or drink sodas. Also, since I had a cig in my mouth or my hand for a good portion of the time I was awake, I had no need for any substitutes. Part of my quitting process involved chewing on red licorice and sucking on hard candies. As the years passed and I got farther away from smoke mouth I developed quite a sweet tooth. For several years my absolute favorite has been Jelly Belly jelly beans. For one, they're small and chewy and one lasts a while. For another, they're 4 calories each; quite a few pieces giving a high quality "point" bang for the buck (that's Weight Watcher's point). Finally, they taste great and come in a changing assorting of wonderful, true flavors (dark chocolate and sour orange are my current favorites). (And the Coldstone chocolate mint.) (And peanut butter.) (And grapefruit.) (They have flavor all the way through, even in the center! Unlike other jelly beans!) (You can mix them in your mouth for special combinations!) (They even good when they're stale!) (Which they hardly ever become, in my house!)

A couple of times I've gone to the factory in Fairfield and taken the weekend tour while the factory wasn't in operation. They show videos, and you get to see the factory floor, but nothing was happening. I've always wanted to play hooky from work and go during the week and this was my big chance. While looking up hours on their website I discovered Jelly Belly University; a tour of no more than 6 people, on the factory floor, up close and personal with the production process. I was so excited (yes, my life is exactly that dull) that I immediately registered for our available morning.

Thursday morning we headed up the Fairfield through the gloom and rain. We arrived at the factory nice and early and discovered that we were the only people on the tour. For almost an hour and a half our guide walked us around, showed us every darn thing, gave us tastes and generally made us feel like big shots. It was fun, it was informative, it was sugary sweet. All that, and we got a 10% discount off anything purchased in the store. Uh oh.

We did some shopping, then ... huh? How much? Let's just say I made it to the car in one trip and leave it at that. I won't need to replenish my supply for quite some time.

Anyway, after shopping we headed one valley west to Napa. St. Helena to be specific, to the V. Sattui Winery. We had intended to have a picnic in the beautiful weather but there wasn't any beautiful weather. In fact, it was darn right miserable. We still had the picnic, in the car, facing the budding vineyards. Then we went in to do a little tasting. My sis and BIL aren't big drinkers (they're cheap dates) and I was driving so we were only making the one stop. Since the last time I had visited they've instituted a tasting charge. It was only $5 for 6 tastes and we decided we'd all split the one tasting. See? Cheap dates.

There are a few of their wines that I adore, and some that I've liked since I first visited in 1976 or 77 (maybe 78?). My current favorite is the Madeira (see above re: sweet tooth). Despite the fact that the price is more than 200% higher than when I bought my first bottle, I always get at least one bottle per visit. Although I'm very fond of their red wines I've been having red wine allergies or sensitivities lately and have lowered my consumption. So we tasted mostly whites and sweets and yum, they were all good. Realize that in total I probably had about 4 ounces of wine, so my decision to join one of their wine clubs wasn't influenced by being looped. I've wanted to join a club for a few years and just never got around to deciding where.

The club I joined is new enough that it isn't even on their website list yet. It's the fruity/sweet/dessert club where I'll get 3 bottles every other month until I cancel the membership. Along with the wine, the membership also includes discounts, free tastings, special events and newsletters. I decided on this particular club because I won't have to worry about a red allergy and I can always buy good (and cheap) dry whites at Trader Joe's.

After signing my life away we headed back to the Bay Area through the continuing rain and increasing traffic. We made it home in time to pick up pizzas from Zachary's and head over to my mom's. After devouring stuffed mushroom and spinach pizza and salad we headed back home for an early evening.

Candy, wine and pizza. An hour or more walking. Lots of driving. Talking, laughing and being with family. It was a great day.

Sigh

I realized this morning that I'm quickly becoming a regular visitor in the land of Slothville. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I might even be moving there if I wasn't spending so much time in Gluttonia. My workouts are missing, my eating habits have deteriorated, my body feels like sluggish sludge. Nice.

One little backache (maybe not so little) and I feel I have a license to join the rest of the country in Sofatown. I know quite well how quickly I adjust to my natural state of rest. I'm so slow when I'm active that it's often hard to tell the difference between when I'm moving or not, but there really is a difference.

I think I need to schedule some challenging, scary event where strength and stamina are involved (even a half marathon would work). Working toward Chicago Marathon just gives me too much time to put off any focus. I need to start spending my extra time in Healthland with visits to Goodchoices.

You'd think by now I'd have learned how hard it is to make a comeback.

Check, check and ... check!

this plant is not yet in bloom this year

For once I had an incredibly productive weekend. The only thing I didn't get to do were sit around doing nothing. I guess you can only do that once a year. Maybe once a season, if you're lucky.

I spent Friday late afternoon and early evening at the hospital with my mom. Don't ask. She's fine, and they were very surprised to see her only two days after they had done every test, found nothing and sent her home. I think she's lonely.

Saturday I met Bree (with Nitro), Anita and surprise guest Petra at the trail. We had decided to walk to rest Bree's knee and my back. Rest=5 mile walk. It was freezing out, literally (strangely enough and what's up with that?). But it was clear and sunny and warmed up quickly. We walked, talked, gabbed, paused, walked on and had a great time. It was such a beautiful day, the sky couldn't have been prettier, the air clear, the trees in bloom (haven't I been saying this for a while? I'll miss it when it all browns out which will be very soon if we don't get any more rain).

I spent the rest of the day doing mom stuff. Lots of mom stuff. Lots and lots and lots. Sigh.

I woke early Sunday and after trying to go back to sleep, got up and started my tasks. I cleaned the entire house, moved the furniture around so I could set up the air mattress, did lots of laundry, went grocery shopping and generally prepared for guests. I cleaned the atrium too, probably the last time it'll need it until the fall.

I also finished, I think, setting up the new computer. It's decidedly odd typing on this thing. The keyboard is about 80% normal size (that's a guess) and strange function keys are here and there. There's also a very sensitive touch pad that I keep hitting and moving the stupid cursor around. I managed to move all my music and pictures, re-download some programs and games, update my other files, figure out where all the old stuff was and where to move it. For a technological dunce I think I did ok. Since the old computer hasn't entirely bit the big one yet, I'll still be able to find things if I discover they're missing.

Moving furniture and making beds wasn't exactly good for my back but I'm still hoping that I'll wake up tomorrow morning and be able to re-re-re-start my exercise. Fingers crossed!

Let someone else be the fool

I had this whole, elaborate April Fool's blog entry planned for today. I was going to talk about how I decided to celebrate my 55th year by doing an Ironman. I would have talked about the commitment and training and weight loss and focus and hard work and joy of completion. How I needed to increase my speed on the bike and the run. I planned to announce my schedule of shorter races, my training and diet plans. Then I remembered that I dislike April Fools jokes, or any practical joke. So in the immortal words of Emily Litella, never mind.

I haven't run this week. I haven't gone for a walk this week. I haven't cycled this week. I haven't done any cross training this week. All I've done is simple core work. But Amy, you might ask, aren't you getting back into training, starting to run again, feeling strong? Well, until last week that was true. This week my body decided that it would be a great idea for my back to start shooting pains again. The good part of that was last night I took a muscle relaxant for the first time in many many months and slept for almost 7 hours straight. My back still hurts but otherwise I feel great!

Sleeping is definitely underrated. As a life-long insomniac I hope I'm one of those elderly people who sleep for vast chunks of the day. I'd love to sleep 8 hours at night and then take a 2 hour nap during the day. Or even 9 and 3. When I'm 85 I won't mind if I can sleep away half the day, knowing that most of my life I only slept less than half again of that.

Raise your hand if you need a nap!

Peace and peanut butter

I had the best Saturday ever. Ok, maybe not EVER ever, but for a very long time. I got up early, drank some coffee while I read the newspaper. Then I found a book and sat on the sofa reading until it warmed up outside. Then I went and sat outside reading. When I got too warm and a little worried about too much sun I went back inside, sat on my comfy chair and continued reading. When I finished that first book I read another. When it got late I went to bed. The end.

Normally the only time I sit and read all day is when I'm sick (and then I don't enjoy it because I'm sick). I just don't have the time to do that otherwise, no matter how much I love to read. I can't justify spending the entire day doing, well, nothing. Yes, I know that reading isn't nothing, but in my society just sitting around all day constitutes sloth. Well, for one lovely day I was slothful. A slight nagging guilt hovered over me all day but I ignored it.

Of course nothing that I had to do just went away because I wished it would (I guess the lantern, the first star bright and the wishbone were off their feed). Sunday was chock full of things to do.

I got up early to meet Bree and Anita for a run. We planned on an easy 4 miles, thinking that sooner or later 4 miles will be easy again. It wasn't easy, wasn't pretty, but we got it done. It was a lovely day with a surprising headwind on our return journey. We were all bothered by the pollen in the air. I don't want to complain about it since it was truly lovely outside. The sun was out, it was cool enough for a good run but warm enough not to be cold, the sky was a brilliant clear blue, the air smelled good, the grass (and weeds) were that bright spring green, the tree were in flower and wow, just perfect. We ran, we walked, we talked a lot and it was over too soon. I think one reason I like long runs is that it's an excuse to spend more time blabbing with buddies.

After that it was mom time, doing the usual. I came home and faced lots of laundry, bills, house straightening and for once, my taxes. Yep, finally got them ready to send off. Then I sat down and browsed around trying to decide on a new computer before this once plotzes permanently and irrevocably. I think I know what I'm getting and I'll decide tomorrow after checking with some of the guys at work.

Oh, the peanut butter? Lately there has been no food that has sounded particularly good to me, nothing really tempting. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I haven't eaten anything, it's just that nothing has tasted good. I've eaten the frozen crap dinners that I have, or stuffed some chicken and veggies in a tortilla, or just had popcorn and ice cream (healthy!). I don't eat a lot of peanut butter since the calories and my body aren't happy with each other. But tonight that's what sounded good. I had bought some cherry preserves for when my sis and bro-in-law come to visit since I had to throw out the jar that was in my fridge (it was blue -- blue strawberry jam -- and fuzzy -- ew). I pulled some slightly freezer-burned bread from the freezer, toasted it, spread on some crunchy pb and cherry j and yum, best food in several days. Liked it so much I went back for seconds, which would be worse if the bread hadn't been the tiny end pieces left of the loaf. Tasty, and now I don't need peanut butter again for a long time.

Great. Now I'll have to eat real food.

Slow down, I tell me

Last night I went for my second run of the week, hoping for better results than I had during my first run of the week (and the month) (and last month). It was just as nice outside as Tuesday; low 70's (really! and it's still March!), clear air, a bit of a headwind on the return. The only thing detracting from the lovely evening was someone grilling lighter fluid. Seriously, I smelled no food at all, just pervasive chemical lighter fluid smell for about a half mile. Ick.

I started out, intending not to look at Mr. Garmin so that I wouldn't have a hissy about how slow I was running. Again, the plan was for 9:1 run:walk. By the second block I was horrified at how tired I was, how heavy my legs were, how bad my breathing was. I interrupted the song in my brain to sternly instruct my legs to go slower. Huh? You don't have songs in your brain while you run? I swear, my mind is my own personal iPod and I don't really need an external source of music. The only thing I can't do with it is turn down the volume. But that's a story for another time.

So I waddled along, speeding up when I didn't pay attention, slowing down when I focused. I turned around at 1.5 miles (yeah, I looked. Sue me) and realized I was now running into the wind. That canceled out any benefit from the down grade that direction. It also enforced the slowing down part because of that whole wind-in-my-face-can't-breath-well thing I have. My legs were still trying for a faster turnover than my lungs appreciated, but by the end of the second mile I seemed to be getting it under better control.

I finished my run with my usual sprint and walked about another half mile to cool off and breathe well. I was overheated since I hadn't expected the high temp, and I also seem to have forgotten how to dress while running. I'm used to overdressing for the bike since I get so cold and didn't remember that to me, 55 degrees is a warm day for running. I was wearing capri's and a short sleeve top and I should have worn shorts and possibly a sleeveless top. I'll remember next week. Maybe.

I felt better after this run than Tuesday but c'mon, it was still only a measly 3 miles! Good gravy, what's going to happen when I attempt real mileage? I didn't even mention how painful my lower quads and hip flexors were after Tuesday's run, and where did that come from? I know I hit the muscles differently than when I cycle, but my legs felt like I'd run 20 miles or more. It's going to be a long comeback, I can tell now.

A sad/strange thing happened when I returned to my car. I was in a little 3 car lot by the trail, parked in the middle. As I walked up a big ol' SUV, a really big one, pulled in alongside of my little SUV. A man and a woman got out and opened their hatch, which around there means they're either pulling out a stroller or a dog. I glanced over as I was opening my own car and saw they had 2 Great Danes in the back. No wonder they needed the big vehicle! One of the dogs glanced over at me and then I turned away, stretching and wiping off the sweat and such, and heard a loud "thunk" and then some horrible crying. The male GD had fallen out of the car. Fallen the 3 feet or so from the back to the ground. He was wailing something horrible and it just broke my heart. The owner was (obviously) concerned, but kept telling the dog not to be a big baby and get up. The dog just lay there in a heap, crying.

He was finally soothed and quieted, and stood up, but he was favoring one leg. The owners looked at each other and figured they'd probably have to go to the vet instead of taking the walk. The female GD just looked on as if to say "Baby!" and pulled at her leash. They put the dogs in the car, sat and talked, got out again, and as I drove out it looked as if they were going to go for their walk after all. Since they were apparently good people I think if the big baby (heh) was really hurt they'd take him to the vet. I hope he's ok. I'm sure for the rest of the week the female GD is going to be laughing at him for his clumsiness!

Is it broken or not?

After work on Tuesday I went for a run. I was shocked and amazed at how hard it was! Although it's been weeks (and weeks) since I last ran it isn't like I've been sitting on my couch eating bonbons all day; I rode that little century and did all the training for it. But running not only uses different muscles it also is completely weight bearing.

I felt as if I had gained 30 pounds since I last ran, which for once I haven't. In fact, I was darn near the exact weight as the last time I got out there. But my legs were like iron and I felt like I was dragging around the Biggest Loser, pre Bob or Jillian. It was hard. I was determined to run, and determined to run at least 2 miles. Or 3 miles, since it wasn't worth getting clothes dirty for just 2.

Because my breathing was so awful I decided to do a 9:1 run:walk. At least it gave me a goal, a little piece to look forward to. I was running on the Iron Horse Trail in Danville and it was a beautiful day. The air was clear, the sky blue, the sun shining low in the sky. It was warm too, somewhere in the low 60s, with just a light breeze. Perfect conditions for a great run. So I continued trying to have a great run.

I ended up running 3 miles, with a slow average of about 12:15, and then I walked another quarter mile back to my car while trying to catch my breath. I felt much better after the run than during, but it was hard (I think I might have mentioned it was hard). My legs are sore from running so I intend to keep this up until it's easy again. In fact, I'll be running again after work today.

After my lovely run I went home and turned on my computer to upload the stats from Mr. Garmin. To my horror, instead of starting up I got a black screen with a little message at the top: "Primary hard disk drive not found. No bootable devices." I tried bunches of things, or rather bunches of things that someone who knows nada about computers would try, and it appeared that my disk drive was a goner. Dead. Kaput. I was horrified and depressed but hopeful that the backup I had done over the weekend contained everything I would need. I resigned myself to the fact that my 4 year old PC had passed its expiration date and it was time to get a new one. But I needed one immediately so I could do my taxes (procrastination anyone?)

I'd known for some time that the computer was on its last legs but was resisting getting a new one until Microsoft came out with the new operating system. Hah. I was pretty certain I didn't want to go Mac since I didn't like using my mom's, I didn't want to have to go through the learning process for a new system and I didn't want to have to get all new Mac software for the programs I use. But I really didn't want to go Vista since my current computer is all crapped up with useless stuff and I didn't want another one stuffed full again. But it looked like that time had come and I'd have to do something.

I took my computer to work yesterday just in case someone could fix it. It seemed that every time I'd have problems with my work computer our Sys Admin (who isn't the Sys Admin any longer but still knows his stuff) would just walk in my office, do things similar to what I had done already, and magically the computer would work again. It was worth a try and what do you know. He did a few things, reiterated his feelings toward Microsoft and their products, did a couple of other things and magically it started working. Huh? It wasn't as if he changed anything, added anything or removed anything. All he did was go looking there, open this, close that, start stop start stop on and off and there you go!

Despite that, I figured I still needed another computer stat. I took home my newly fixed computer, crossed my fingers and turned it on. Black screen, "primary hard disk not found" etc. Huh? I did manage to start it up in safe mode where it slowly but competently performed for the rest of the night. I did the few things I need to do and turned it off.

Yeah, I think I need a new computer, but where to start? I know I don't want a desk top. I want something very small and portable, but want something with a screen big enough to comfortably see. That pretty much leaves laptops instead of notebooks. I want the newest technology, both hardware and software (except Vista thankyouverymuch) at a reasonable price. I want it fast and with a few hundred gigs of storage. It needs Office and Quicken and iTunes and I want Firefox and Thunderbird for my browsers and mail. I need odd little things like uploading pix from my crappy camera and uploading data from Mr. Garmin. I want to be able to watch movies and listen to music and look at my gazillion pictures (and edit those pictures). I want to be able to play games. I want to be able to take advantage of the next new thing that comes along that I don't know about yet. Most of all, I want it to be reliable since we've already established I'm technologically deficient. Any suggestions?

Running again

That sounds like I actually went for a run. Nuh-uh. Not yet. But I'm planning to run after work today. My biggest obstacle in going for a run is, well, me. If I'm not committed to joining someone else my lazy sedentary brain walks in my door after work and convinces my body to sit on the couch and veg. So I brought my running clothes to work, I'll change here, and I'll either run directly on the trail that's only a block from the office, or I'll drive to a part of the trail that I like better. Either way, I won't walk in my door tonight until I've gone at least 3 miles.

That sounds so short, doesn't it? But I haven't run for a couple of months and I don't want to push it. It would really annoy the bejeebers out of me if I (re-)wrecked my knee on what's essentially the first run of the year. So short, slow(er than usual) and easy is the way to do it. I'm hoping to make this a new habit, unless I can find some other slow person who can run with me during the week.

But first I have to run tonight.

Happy noniversary to me

With one more day like yesterday I think I would be entirely caught up. Unfortunately by the time I get another one, there will be more things that need to be done so catching up is not going to happen right now.

Although Saturday was forecast to be cold and rainy and windy, it turned out to be a pretty nice day. My hoped for 15 minutes of gardening turned into 3 hours. Yes indeedy, that most certainly is a trend with me. Once I get outside on a nice day I find more and more that needs to be done. Since the early afternoon was clear I threw on a long sleeved shirt and went to wrestle with my jasmine and my lemon tree. It was not only intermittently sunny, it was warm. Wonderful day to be outside.

I clipped and pulled and weeded and cursed my so called gardeners and delighted in the spring weather. Then I headed toward the lemon tree. Despite long sleeves, gloves and long pants, I got scratched and poked and mauled by that little overgrown thing. I picked a couple dozen lemons, some so indescribably nasty that I gagged, thinned it out a bit and then called it a day.

What does one do with a couple dozen lemons? Keep in mind that (1) I don't cook and (2) I don't bake. What I do is drink, so I made ice cubes! I squeezed about a dozen lemons and poured some into the only ice cube tray I have in the house. I used to have many ice cube trays but darned if I could come up with them anywhere. The only other thing I had convenient was the top of the little thing that holds eggs that came with the fridge. Odd, but hey, it worked. Many hours later I discovered that I probably should have watered them down a bit before trying to freeze them, since even now they're not hard solid. I tossed one in a glass of soda, and other than reminding me exactly why I'm staying away from citrus fruits, it was a great idea. The rest of the lemons I'll attempt to give to my coworkers. Maybe hide them in their desks when they're not looking.

My house is clean, for the first time in -- well, I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. It wasn't a true spring cleaning; I didn't touch the baseboards, the windows, the cabinets, etc. But it's dusted and vacuumed and the bathrooms cleaned. Much nicer to be in now.

I didn't get much chance to be in my house today, it's momday. Several hours helping with her paperwork and taking her to lunch so I didn't get done the one thing I've been putting off. I did take my tax stuff out of the filing cabinet and spread it all over my table, so it's a start. Baby steps, right?

While I was writing check after check for my mom I realized that today's date was familiar to me because 19 years ago on this date I was busy marrying my future ex-husband. For the first time. Don't ask me the date of our second marriage. Or either divorce. It's funny how some dates, some numbers will stick in your brain forever and some won't stay there for more than a minute. I remember my ex's social security number but it took me 4 or 5 years to learn my cell phone number. I know the very long i.d. number for my company's payroll but can't remember my brother-in-law's birthday without looking it up (and he's been my bro-in-law for over 30 years). I remember my very first telephone number (Vermont6-9219 -- I'm sure most of you young whippersnappers won't remember that phone numbers started with the first 2 letters of a word. And we didn't have no steenkin' area codes either. But I digress. Again) but can't remember my current license plate. And passwords? Yikes. Good thing most places give you 3 tries before shutting down.

Moving right along ... or not. I took a few days off my exercise routine to give my body a bit of a break after the century. Those few days have now stretched into a week and my body is getting very displeased. The gardening and house cleaning felt like a workout. Tomorrow I intend to arise early, since I won't be asleep anyway, and start the week with some cross-training. Let's see how that works, shall we?

Solvang Century ride report

DISCLOSURE: My memories of the ride itself are a little confused. I can't remember exactly what happened exactly when. Please forgive me if I refer to someplace at the wrong time, or some time at the incorrect distance, or if I just scramble the whole thing up. What I remember is here, in whatever order I seem to remember. I suppose I could browse through other ride reports and get it straightened out, but I want this to be what I went through, not what someone else experienced.

I took Thursday and Friday as vacation days. Although I travel to lots of races, none of them have required cycling gear except the triathlon. I was nervous about forgetting -- oh -- anything, and wanted Thursday to pack in peace. By the time I hopped into bed Thursday night my car was packed up and ready to go.

Bree met me at my house Friday morning and we transferred her bike and gear to my car. Although she accused me of being Count Pakula there was still a bit of room for her to load up a couple of things. We stopped to pick up coffee and hit the road at 8:40 am.

Long drive. We stopped once to find a bathroom (all that hydrating) and once for lunch. As we drove we pointed out hills that we hoped we wouldn't be climbing during the century (and it turned out that one we only jokingly included as a probable due to its very large size was in fact one of the larger hills we climbed). We arrived in Solvang, Buellton actually, in very good time and went into the hotel to see if we could check in early.

Bree was able to get her room. The hotel had no record of me. As I steamed and fumed the ("I'm in training") clerk repeatedly tried my name and found nothing. I called our team manager and discovered that although she was in the hotel, she was involved in a staff meeting. While I knew that I wouldn't have to sleep in my car no matter what, I didn't need the extra worry and stress.

When the meeting was over our manager pointed out to the hotel manager that my name was indeed on the list that TnT had sent. It was at the top of a page in what looked to be only a header row so their missing it wasn't terribly surprising, but it was there nonetheless. The hotel manager got me a room, apologising repeatedly and asked me if she could send a few sodas or something to my room. I said a bottle of white wine would be nice and she said she'd have it sent along.

I had enough time to unload my car and change into cycling gear before we were supposed to meet for a tune-up ride. Because not everyone arrived at the same time, we set out in groups. It was a short ride, just down the road to Easy Street. I'm not making that up. We turned around and were able to try out all our gears, the brakes, everything on the bike. When I got back I looked at my tires since we had ridden through a patch of broken glass. I pulled a couple of tiny slivers out of my front tire and was sure I'd have a flat tire in the morning. Luckily this isn't foreshadowing. My tire was fine through the whole ride.

The pasta dinner was the usual TnT affair; pasta, salad, chicken, bread, speeches, the video (a new one that didn't leave me in the slightest bit weepy), more talks, Go Team! In addition to our San Francisco Chapter, there were the Los Angeles and Northern Texas Chapters attending. It was a large, boisterous crowd like most TnT pasta parties. The biggest difference at this party (to me) was they announced my name as one of the two Triple Crown earners. After that people started congratulating me and I told them to cut it out, they were jinxing me. Ride first, Triple Crown after.

We met up afterward for final instructions and arrangements and talks from Coach Cyd and Coaches Beth and Lorraine. Our little group were all given pieces of purple boa and pipe cleaners to attach to our helmets. I thought it was a little overboard and precious, but it turned out to be a great idea.

Bree and I drove over to the ride expo since we had picked up our bibs at the TnT table in the hotel. The race branded gear wasn't exciting. An expensive jersey out of odd mesh-like fabric, a jacket, a white tee shirt, a twill hat. There were several booths selling cycling gear and nutrition. We wandered around and decided we didn't need to buy a thing.

Although it was advertised that registration included a tube of Chamois Butt'r, a Clif Shot and a Mojo Bar we only received the tube of road rash remedy. It looked like the registration table at the expo didn't have any either, so maybe there was a foul-up somewhere. We also received a Solvang Century magnet with the logo.

Back to the hotel and what seemed both like 15 minutes and 15 hours in bed trying to sleep. I didn't get less sleep than normal before a race but that's not saying anything. I was up before the alarm, turned on the coffee pot and ... turned on the coffee pot and ... turned on the coffee pot ... realized the coffee pot wasn't working. I took a quick shower, threw on half of my clothes and went down to the lobby and bought a cup of coffee. Wait. That sounds like I went down to the lobby half naked and I didn't. I should have said that I threw on the bottom layer of clothes. Back to my room and finished getting ready and was in the lobby with my bike by 6:45 am, our designated meeting time.


I wasn't too hopeful that we'd start at our 7:00 am planned time since we hadn't yet started on time all season. There was a lot of hustle and bustle and scurrying and hurrying and pictures and waiting for it to be 7:00 at which time we actually rolled out. Whoohoo! Let's do the damn thing!

We started off, boas flying in the breeze, in a tight paceline. At least I think it was a tight paceline; I was toward the front. It was still dawn, not fully light out but it got brighter as we rode on. My new cycle computer was working very well proving that simple and inexpensive isn't a bad thing. Mr. Garmin, however, decided to go signal-less for about 3 miles before I realized it wasn't recording. D'oh! I fiddled with it while trying to maintain my place in line and finally got it working. No big deal, but my geeky side was a little disappointed I wouldn't have full stats for the ride.

The little gap in the red route is where Mr. Garmin was taking a nap

For the first part of the ride Coach Beth rode in front, keeping our speed low enough on the flats that we mostly stayed in a group. The couple of early hills were enough to spread us out along the route. We all met up at the first SAG stop at about 23 miles. In what would be repeated throughout the day, I was ready and willing to continue on much sooner than the rest of the group. Also in what would be repeated, before we left our group had a "mission moment." We would talk about either one of our group honorees, or someone's personal honoree, have a moment of silence and then shout out "go team!" before rolling on. Each and every one of those moments got me teary, thinking about my dad, thinking about all those we were riding for, thinking how important was the cause.

In the beginning of the next section I sat right on Coach Beth's wheel, getting sucked along in her wake. As we continued on though, I found myself slipping back in the group. I'd speed up to catch onto somebody's wheel to block the wind, then I'd fade back again. I fell farther and farther back into our group with only the very slowest hill climbers behind me (which included Bree with her injured knee).

The second SAG stop was at mile 39, after a lengthy uphill section. I started feeling my energy flagging and realized that a lot of it was due to trying to keep up with the group. I decided to go my own pace from there. I was consuming my pop tarts and gu on a regular basis and drinking maybe not quite enough of my Ultima. The third SAG was at mile 60 after a bitch of an uphill. I think that was where I announced I was feeling craptastic. More riding, more ups and downs, more introspection, more chatting and silent time. I was on my own for long periods but always caught back up with the group at the next SAG. From about mile 65 on I started feeling sad and on the verge of tears. I wasn't hurting more than normal, wasn't tired more than normal, I was just worn out.

SAG 4 was at mile 73 and was the start of a long long long uphill section. I rode this alone and attempted to ignore anyone who tried to talk with me, including my coach and teammates. I didn't have the energy to chat, didn't have the inclination or the mood to be friendly. This section was very strange to me. I knew there was supposed to be this 15 mile or so uphill and from the map expected it to be horrible. But I felt as if I was just riding up a grade. Granted, we had a tailwind at that point. But I was able to comfortably, if slowly continue riding. Where's the hill? Where's the hill? Where's the hill? We had been told we'd stop and regroup before the hill and I kept waiting and waiting and getting more impatient and worried. I stopped momentarily a couple of times, once to pull off one arm warmer and once to eat a gel. I passed part of my group who were changing a tire and caught up to the rest of the group who had stopped just before the hill. The real hill.

That hill was a stinking bitch. A horrific steep climb with blind corners so you'd never know when it was going to end. Thinking that this was the long hill I tortured myself with visions that it was going to last for 10 miles and felt awful. I stopped twice on this particular hill to catch my breath, crested the top much sooner than I had anticipated and realized that this was the end of the big hill. At the top I considered stopping but decided to just zip up my jersey and jacket and continue along. I overheard some random guy tell his buddy not to worry, there were only 2 more climbs like that. Good thing for him he was faster than me; I would have ridden over and knocked him upside the head.

A steep downhill (and we know how much I like twisty downhills on rutted roads) and then the second stinking bitch of a hill. That one I had to stop 3 times to catch my breath, the effort seemed to be cumulative. At the SAG stop where I caught up with most of the team I assured them that the ride had sunk to new depths of suckitude which amused the heck out of some of them. After our last mission moment where I really thought I would lose it, we took off in smaller groups (or alone) and were told we'd meet up before the finish and all ride in together. I've actually blanked out whether that last SAG came after the first hill or the second, I was that zoned out. Or in the zone, whichever applied.

The road surface continued to be crap on the downhills, making any speed risky and highly uncomfortable. I attempted to put all my weight on my feet instead of my hands or my increasingly sore sit bones, but to do that I'd have to stop pedaling or braking.

And then came the "last" hill. Wide open road, up up and then up some more. While I was tempted, highly tempted to walk it, my stubbornness just let me make a couple of breathing stops. I finally got to the top and started crying. I was so thrilled that I had done the last hill, thrilled that I had gone more than 10 miles past the farthest I'd ever gone, saddened over so many personal issues and the tears poured down my cheeks. For only a few moments though. Just like when I run marathons I told myself to suck it up, shut up, take a breath and get on with it. I knew I didn't have the energy to completely melt down and had to refocus on the rest of the ride.

The rest of the ride had more rutted roads and a couple more hills. Hey, where'd they come from? Although the majority of it was downhill or downgrade, the roads until about mile 100 were awful. Then we arrived back in town and road conditions improved. I looked for the team and finally came around a corner and there they were, my group, with helmet boas flowing. Everyone was a little giddy while we awaited the arrival of our final members. I was too tired to be giddy and was just grumpily pleased that I was almost done.

The scenery on the ride varied from lovely green hills and valleys sprouting with wildflowers to ugly freeways to residential/commercial areas to vineyards. The Napafication of the area was frankly scary, knowing the habitat and landscape destruction of the Napa and Sonoma valleys. Sadly, a burgeoning wine industry is likely to cause hills to be topped, slopes to be denuded, waters to be fouled and the natural beauty of the area changed beyond recognition. Because most of the day was gray and overcast it wasn't quite as scenic as it could have been. Also, after several hours on a bike everything starts to look similar.

The weather, as I mentioned, was ok but not great. It started off cool and overcast with a wind and it ended cool and overcast with a wind. I believe it was low 50's the entire day with a steady 10 mph wind that gusted much higher. I didn't take off my glove liners until about 60 miles and never removed my ear covers. I also never removed my jacket and only unzipped on the sweaty uphills.

The purple feather boa decorations on our helmets turned out to be a genius idea. We were able to see our group members, know if someone was part of our group or not. Other riders frequently commented, mostly with teasing and humor. The boa didn't bounce or drag or blow in the wind and I really didn't even know it was there. It was funny when I rode behind the group to see purple feathers drifting along the road.

Our last stragglers arrived and we headed off in the same big group we had started in, ohsoverymany hours earlier. Of course, then we got split up at a couple of stop lights so we ended up not rolling in together after all. Whoops. In fact, the last few of us to arrive at the meeting place were among the first of the group to finish. Or should I say "finish" since we still had to ride back to the hotel.

still boa'd after all those miles and hours

There was an actual finish line and as we rode across we received our finishing goodie bag (which contained our patch, a mini-Clif bar and a pile of papers for other rides).


We walked over to the team tent and received our "100" pins and our medals. Yep, TnT realizes that we do these things for the bling and made up medals specially for us. Very nice, very appreciated. And as a special bonus I received my coveted Triple Crown pin showing that I'd completed (and fundraised for) TnT marathon, triathlon and century events. I thought that Triple Crown was just a title, didn't know I'd get an extra pin.

oooooh, shiny!

Then, although we wanted to wait for the rest of the team to arrive, a half dozen or so of us realized that we were so pooped we'd better head back to the hotel while we could. Good thing too. We had a horrible headwind in that direction and those 3 or so miles felt like 10 more. Finally, 11 hours after we started, 9 hours riding time and 103+ miles I was done.

I got back to my room, texted and tweeted and called all my friends and relatives and then took the longest hot shower I had taken since my drought water restrictions went into effect. I think I intended to drain the hotel's entire water supply but finally had to get out because I was too tired to stand any longer. I managed to dress and get myself on my feet and headed to the victory party.

Although I wasn't particularly hungry I realized I hadn't eaten enough during the day and hadn't had anything to drink after the ride except a glass of wine. None of the food looked too terribly appetizing except for the mashed potatoes but I forced myself to take some nutritious food too. And some wine since I was dehydrated. Some water too, for balance. During the ride I only drank about 4 bottles of Ultima, ate less than 6 pop tarts and slurped about 10 gels.

It was a fun party with food and drink and dancing and wonderful people. Verging on maudlin I thanked all the people who had specially helped me through the season. My mentor Amy was the best mentor I've had in all my seasons with TnT. Our head coach Cyd was always there. Always. I was astounded to see her week after week, even during her injured time off the bike. She was warm, friendly, informative and a great coach. Coach Susie and Captain Grace blew my mind by riding the entire century, despite their own injuries. Such tough, strong women. Lynn and Bob got my vote for best couple; Lynn for her fun attitude and Bob for his great SAG talents. Julie was always there with a smile and a friendly word, always helping someone along, waiting for us slowpokes despite being able to go ahead.

I don't even know what to say about Coach Beth and Coach Lorraine, the leaders of our little group. Very different in their approaches but so similar in execution. They both knew when to encourage me, when to talk with me, when to ignore me, when to get close and when to leave me along. They knew, without a doubt, that I would finish this ride. They had faith in my ability and determination and let me know that. They knew when I needed a hug, when I needed help dislodging my chain, when I entered deeply into the bite-me zone and needed the world to go away. During the century Beth pulled the front of the team along while Lorraine encouraged those of us trailing alone. I had more fun with the two of them, with this entire team, than I've had for so long.

My companion for the entire season was Bree. Until her knee acted up she was always just a bit ahead of me, always waiting, always there. Together we carpooled, we grilled cheesed, we beered and caked and gossiped about everyone else around us. We supported each other the entire season. This would have been a lonely training season without her training along with me. We rode together, drove together, laughed together and bitched together. Thank you Bree!

I'm very glad I did this even though my body has made it very clear that I never have to do it again. I'm not made for cycling over 5 hours, week after week. I'll continue with the bike since I've rediscovered how much I enjoy it. I think I'll enjoy it even more when I'm finally able to stop with the long pants, jacket and ear warmers.

I don't know what my next adventure will be. I guarantee it will be easier than this century!

Long winded report

It's taking me as long to write my ride report as it took me to do the ride. I'm very fuzzy about so many of the details and I keep going back to edit and re-edit and post pictures and add more. I think it'll probably take you as long to read it too.

I'm hoping tonight it'll be finished. Or maybe some time Friday. Or Saturday. Soon!

Yes you could

When I tell people I've just completed a century ride (or a marathon) (or a triathlon) (or any athletic endeavor that took longer than a hour), most people offer their congratulations which I always happily accept. Then some humongous percentage of those people say "oh, I could never ride a century" (or "run a marathon" or "complete a triathlon") and then they say something to the effect of how special I must be.

C'mon people! Look at me. Look closely. I'm so far-the-hell from being physically special that it's scary. I'm almost fifty-freakin-five years old. I'm overweight by 15-20 pounds (and that's being generous). I'm constitutionally lazy and never exercised at all until my 30's, and not seriously until my late 40's. I have no upper body strength, a sore back and a painful knee. I smoked heavily for 23 years and now have exercise induced asthma. I don't sleep, don't eat right and drink too much wine.

Since I can cycle 100 miles or run 26.2 miles or complete an Olympic distance tri, I'm convinced that any vaguely healthy person can too. Don't tell me that you're slow, I wrote the book on that. Don't tell me that you've never run more than 5 miles, neither had I until I started training (for that matter, I hadn't walked that far either). Don't tell me you don't have time, because there are 24 hours each and every day and you can set aside one or two of those to train (you really don't need to spend all that time watching tv or reading or seeing the newest movie). Don't even tell me you're missing a limb because there are endurance athletes using prosthetics.

Be honest with yourself, if not with me. Next time you try to tell me or anyone else that "I could never do [fill in the blank]" just stop yourself, correct yourself, and say "I would never do [that thing]." You have other things in life you'd rather be doing, things that bring you more joy than being active outside. That's ok, not everyone wants to spend hour after hour running or cycling or swimming (or skating or dancing or skiing or whatever), following a schedule and building up endurance. Next time I tell you I did some athletic event that took me the entire day, just congratulate me, shake your head in wonder (or sorrow) and whisper to yourself that you'd never do that. Don't try to convince me that you can't.

One long ride

I did it. This past Saturday I completed the Solvang Century; 103 miles of ... of ... of ... well, of cycling. It took me 9 hours of riding, about 10-1/2 hours out with the Team. It was hard, but I expected that. In fact, it was close to how I had imagined it would be (I have a very vivid imagination). I'll do a ride report soon but for now I don't think I've entirely processed the fact that I've gone so far. It was undoubtedly the hardest physical effort I've ever undertaken.

Now it's time to get back my life. The past year has been a blur, with my family situation, the triathlon training and then the century training. I need to re-center, re-focus my life. I have to learn again what normal is, or at least what my normal is. I need to clean my house, need to tend to my garden, need to pay my bills and oh yeah, prepare my taxes. I need to get back to a training schedule that won't knock me out, need to eat to enjoy it instead of to train. I need exercise that will reduce stress instead of increasing it. I need to stop whining and wine-ing since neither are doing too much for my sanity.

I want to knit and rummage through my stash to find what treasures I have. I want to stay up late to read a good book or come home and have nothing to do. I'd like to spend more time with friends and catch up with those I've neglected. I'd like to see a movie while it's still in the theaters. I want to travel and see new places. I want to walk if I want to, want to run when it feels right, want to swim if it's warm and cycle because I can.

To me, this is New Years Eve. I'm ready for a fresh start.

3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Go!

I got the group email from our head coach this morning telling us that now is not the time to try anything new or to make up for any lost training. Good news and bad news. I guess we never feel we're adequately trained for how we want to perform. If I had done every little thing in training, I'd be wishing that I had done it harder, or faster, or more. This way at least my expectations are realistic.

Best case scenario: finish the ride in 9 hours. So totally unlikely that we don't have to think about it.

Probable scenario: finish the century in 10-1/2 to 11 hours. Average 10 mph while on the bike and twiddle my thumbs nervously while my team lingers at the rest stops.

Bad scenario: finish the ride in 13 hours and go to the victory party in my cycling clothes.

Worst case scenario: walk and push the bike the last 15 miles in the dark (remember, it's now daylight savings time and it's light until about 7:45 pm).

You'll notice that nowhere is it even suggested or thought of that I won't finish. If I'm conscious I will finish that ride. I might not be friendly, might not be happy for a 40 mile stretch, might be sore and cranky and tired and nauseous but I will finish the century. Every mile, every inch. I will see gorgeous spring scenery, I will have fun crowd watching, I will have challenging uphills and downhills and easier flat areas. I will be with my teammates who are all there for the same underlying reason: cancer sucks. Every dollar we raised (close to $120,000 for the team) will help that. I'm strong, committed and ready to go.

Is it Saturday yet?

No more training rides

This is it, it's crunch time. I have 5 days of "rest" and then it's the biggie, the long ride, the century, Solvang! We had our last team training ride, our taper ride, on Saturday and there's only one more ride together as a group. The big one. The long ride. The century. Holy crap, it's almost time to ride 104 miles at Solvang.

Saturday dawned much cooler than expected. The forecasters all blew it. It was supposed to be cool in the morning and warming with the sun. Sun? Not so much until after we were done with our entire ride. It was foggy and cloudy but at least there was very little wind. What a difference that makes. Like almost every ride this season I started with a jacket, ear warmers, glove liners and my toes were numb within 10 minutes.

We met in Danville and headed out toward Livermore for our "flat" "easy" ride. It's funny how the hills were so much easier than they had been several weeks ago. That's easier, not easy. I wasn't having a good stomach day so I was able to either eat and drink and feel like I was about to puke, or go without food and hydrating and hit the wall. I tried to do most of my eating at the couple of rest stops but that really wasn't enough and sure enough, in the middle of the ride (my nemesis) I wanted to throw my hands up and quit. I didn't, but man, I was tempted. I kept telling myself to just ride another 5 miles and I could jump in the sag, then another 5, then another. I was on the verge of tears for about 20 miles.
I went a good ways through Livermore at the front of our paceline right behind Coach Beth. She's one of the few people that I trust enough to draft off of closely enough for it to do some good. Her dragging me along was a big reason that long stretch went so well. Also, the scenery was spectacular. Green fields and hills, mustard, lupine, birds and baby barnyard animals. We saw the cutest, teensiest newborn lambs. I wanted to gawk but if I had slowed I would have knocked over our entire paceline so I just got a short glimpse.

Toward the end of the Livermore portion of the ride I started feeling low again and waved people ahead of me. I didn't feel that I could keep up with the line and wanted to go my own pace, even if that meant I'd have nobody ahead of me to ease the way. We had a short stop at our last waterstop and headed out for the final stretch, about 14 miles to go.

Once again my chain popped off and jammed when I shifted into my granny. Beth stopped and helped me to unjam it. The annoyance factor and struggle to free the chain gave me a big boost of adrenaline that helped me back out to the main road. Then I wore out again. I knew the rest of the route very well and knew it was easy, not a single uphill stretch. I fell back and took it easy until we hit town. Then I got my final jot of energy and flew back to the parking lot. I passed everyone in my group; I was on a mission to finish.

I'm hoping the stomach issues and the I'm-getting-a-cold feelings will work themselves out in the next few days. Obviously hitting the wall isn't going to stop me in Solvang, it'll just make it a miserable experience. As I intend this to be my one-and-only full century (ever), I'd like to have it be a good experience. My brain is ready. My body better be too.

Runner girl still knits, but can't prove it

I have fallen deeply into dislike with my camera. In the old days (um, that would be "old" as in "last year") I would knit something, struggle with connections to my computer, attempt various times to upload pictures I had taken and after several tries get to view my completed or in-progress knitting projects. I finally got fed up with it not working smoothly, got fed up with the stitch details being blurred, got fed up with colors being on some other spectrum than reality. One of these days I'll do a little research and find a camera that is (inexpensive and) easy to use and that takes good pictures of close-up details.

Except for the long bike ride days, my knitting has continued unabated all winter. After a long ride my hands are too sore or stiff to knit; I've ended up making more mistakes than progress. These past months I've completed several pairs of fingerless mitts, a pair of gauntlets, many hats, a few shawls and several scarves. Right now I'm knitting up a scarf/shawl (a "scawl"? or a "sharf"?) with yarn from Stitches. I didn't make it to the show but I put in an order with a friend who has the best eye for color that I know. Over the fall and winter I knit a shawl with yarn from Stitches 2008. It was the pink/gray hunk of superwash merino from Tess' Designer Yarns and it was a pleasure to work with and it's a joy to wear (and very pretty to boot). I asked my friend to pick up more of that yarn for me, and specified a couple of colors or a range of colors. She brought me the English Sheepdog (and a red to be knit later) and I hurried home the night I received it and wound it right into a huge cake.
I cast on for the Opera Scarf, a pattern I've done before. I wanted something simple but beyond garter and not a plain rib. It doesn't get much easier than a 3 stitch repeat on a 1 row pattern. I thought the yarn would be perfect for the pattern; just enough body to hang right and soft enough to drape. After several rows I decided that it needed a bigger needle size so I frogged it. I re-cast on and after several rows decided I wanted it wider. Re-frogging and again re-casting and now I've got several inches on the needles. I'm still not sure it's wide enough. I'll let it go another couple of inches and decide then. It's such an easy pattern that I don't mind redoing. Over and over. Of course, at my speed it should be done in time for next winter's chill.

Now I have to just work on that whole "runner girl" thing.

Salmon Run

I forgot to ask why our ride Saturday was named the Salmon Run. I didn't see any salmon running.It was the hardest physical activity of my life (or at least the hardest my memory recalls, since I tend to forget how hard something is after the next hard something comes along). We rode 81.8 miles (or 83, or 80.2, or somewhere in the middle, depending on whose computer you believe) with about 5000 feet (or maybe almost 6000 feet according to our coach) elevation gain. My longest ride ever, my longest time on a bike ever, my longest time doing some continuous athletic activity ever. It took us nine and a half hours from start to finish, with just over 8 being our riding time. None of my stops were long but they were numerous, most to catch my breath.

It was a beautiful, windy day in Marin County, overcast but with crystal clear visibility, and windy. Very very very windy, especially along the coast. Windy. Have I ever mentioned that I dislike wind even more than hills? Well, it was windy.

It was hilly too, but the hills would have been much easier without the wind either pushing us backwards or sideways. In addition to being scary (the crosswinds were pushing me into traffic) the wind was hell on my asthma and allergies and I wheezed and gasped and dripped along almost the entire route. I think without the wind it would have been my favorite ride yet, but I had a terrible time and got quite cranky about halfway through. I think the coaches expected me to bail but I refused. Hey, breathing is overrated, right?

Bree and I carpooled to the start again and met up with the team. We started (late, of course) at McInnis Park and headed out along Lucas Valley Road. We climbed up to Big Rock and then headed down through Nicasio again. I think this was our third time through Nicasio and it just gets prettier as it gets greener. We then went on Pt. Reyes/Petaluma Road, over the top of Cheese Factory Hill, along Hicks Valley Road to Marshall/Petaluma Road. Then we climbed up Marshall Wall which was just as bad as the name would suggest. But scenic, absolutely gorgeous. Yes, it's nice to ride uphill at about 3-4 mph because you really get to take in the scenery. In depth.

After a steep, twisty descent on scary rutted roads we turned onto Highway 1 for a trip to Tomales Bay, then back again. This part was "rollers" (or "hills" as I like to call them) and my wheezy lungs were not having a great time. On the return trip traffic got heavy and man, some of those drivers get very impatient and mean when they have to slow down from a gazillion mph to something approaching the speed limit. We went through Pt. Reyes Station and Olema and then turned away from the coast to go up Olema Hill. It was less windy after that but the winds didn't disappear unless we were in a sheltered spot.

We returned back through Nicasio Valley (the reservoir seems to have much more water in it since the rains), returning to Lucas Valley Road. We got to climb back up to Big Rock, actually easier in that direction. Then a steep downhill, back through town and whoohooo, we were done! For the last few miles one, then another of us would hit 80 miles on our odometer and we cheered each and every time. I think we were all giddy at the thought of being done. The last mile or so all I could think of was "are we done yet? Are we done yet? Are we done yet? Are we done yet" and I think some of that was out loud.

One of the biggest problems I had is that when (1) I'm wheezing and gasping to breathe and (2) the wind is making me white-knuckle the bike to stay upright, I can neither eat nor drink. I barely touched my pop tarts (in total over the long day I only had 3) and I only went through 4-1/2 bottles of drink. I had (I think) 5 gels, but that was hardly enough for 8 hours of hard riding. When the winds calmed I was able to stuff my mouth, but otherwise I think I was skirting close to the edge of a bonk for the middle 40 miles.

Two more big rides are left; our 5o mile taper ride next week and (sound the horns and bells and whistles) Solvang the week after. I have no doubt that I'll be able to do 100 miles, as I have no doubt I'll feel like crap afterward. I'm astounded how much harder riding those long distances is than running a marathon, even a hard marathon (... or maybe it's just been too long and I've forgotten ...). I enjoy this team and all (or almost all) of my teammates and coaches and staff and I can't say how much I've loved seeing all the new areas. But my exhaustion levels are incredible. I got up this morning and felt like I had the world's worst hangover without the benefit of having had any alcohol first. I think sticking with metric centuries or less will be smartest for me, unless my asthma and allergies go away (and unless somehow I become faster so I can get it over with quicker).

I'm excited and terrified and elated and scared and full of anticipation for the century. I'm ready now, as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do the damn thing!