100 miles of suck

ok, so maybe that's a little melodramatic. it was more like 90 miles of decent, 10 miles of suck.

"oh so THAT's what a 100 mile ride should feel like!!!" i get it now.

my buddy max's 'hell week' began today. 300 miles riding, plus all kinds of other crazy shit miles swimming and running. my coach told me i had to wait 3 weeks before doing another century ride. so, what did i do? i waited 3 weeks and one day. i'm actually just realizing that it's only been that long, i swear i wasn't doing it to be a smartass. for once that statement is true. i know, shocker.

same route as last time - michael landon across from pepperdine out to las posas, back, and then all over again.

weird shit - 7, count them (because i did) SEVEN singular flip-flops. 5 lefties, 2 righties, but who's keeping track? one baby's left sandal, no baby attached. handful of dolphins, including a momma and baby. one squirrel who scared the shit out of me. one rabbit whom i'm certain i scared the shit out of (he watched me pee, even though i warned him fair-and-square) (convo went something like this: 'mr rabbit, not too sure you wanna stick around for this part.' rabbit: *nose twitch/blank stare* i tried). 2 deep inhales of weed this time, evidently pothead surfers aren't big into mondays. noted. countless number of run red/yellow lights. i totally did NOT pause. i did look closely all around me for cops though. fuck it.

blew a flat at mile 76. max was nice enough to watch me change my tire. moral support. but damn, i was pretty fast. surprised myself. we got rolling again. then max blew a flat at mile 84. doesn't that suck cowballs...it does, actually. and could either of them be fronts? oh no. that'd be way too easy. fuckers. really screwed with our mojo.

max kindly asked/nudged/hinted last night that maybe i should get 30-1hr head start. i thought sure, no problem, i'm out there to keep him company, at the random 2 second passes i'd see him (he's damn fast). then on the drive to michael landon this morning, it hit me. i was serving as his own personal fake rabbit, just like the ones on the damn pole at the dog races. hmmmm. something's not right with that picture. but i did my job. sometimes with a smile, other times not so much.

knocked 40 min off my saddle time from my last century. same amount of singing/dancing. but more 'wtf am i doing' talk going on in my head. guess that's only natural. the wind was wicked the first loop out, calmed a little on the second. a text i shot to max in the first loop: "oh how i love the bitch slap from my chin strap". wind sucked. or blew, depending on which end you're on.

nutrition was good. stuck with gus and chomps/bloks this time. and in my endurance i added in some pedialyte. didn't really make much of a difference that i noticed.

lessons learned - 1) don't do a 100 mile ride 2 days after your first workout at core performance. bad idea. had to stop numerous times to stretch out my quads. 2) knowing i'm being chased does wonders for my speed, but refer back to #1. not good either. 3) my stomach is made of steel. not my abs (you're funny, thanks though), my literal stomach. i drank chocolate milk on the way out to our meet-spot and had no problems on the first loop. then at transition, i noticed there were a couple gulps still left in my cup, so i downed 'em. delish. i know, "that's sick" you say. but it wasn't THAT warm. and my point is, my stomach had no problems, chocolate milk or no chocolate milk. sweet. i'm sure there'll come a time when i find something that i won't handle, but we'll see. 4) 41.5mph on a bike is pretty fucking fast. just so you know.

never have i ever

so all day i've been trying to figure out a way to verbalize my workout this morning. literally. not figuratively. well, maybe slightly figuratively. i started pondering how to convey the sheer craziness while i was still in the midst of it. and i don't know that i can even come close to capturing the experience in text. and then all sorts of appliances started coming to mind. weird? yes. appropriate? hell yes.

washing machine

the easiest and most obvious first. that little post in the middle that swishes to and fro. except there wasn't a neat little basket to keep all my parts contained in one area. i've never been able to bend in ways i bent this morning. i was like a contortionist on acid playing with silly putty.

blow dryer

this one is kind of a stretch, but work with me. instead of wind being blow at you, imagine water. at speeds most people would be uncomfortable driving. you know how when dogs hang their heads out car windows while their owners fly along without regard to their furry friends, and their jowls are stretched back to their ears? and they slightly resemble an asian baby? that was me. but add goggles.

dishwasher

this one came to mind when i found myself about a foot past the break at one point. i turned around to see the crash, and i totally got pelted in the face by flying water coming back towards me. except there was no food stuck to me. the vomit had long since been washed off my face by then...(joke)

vacuum cleaner

oh the raw sucking power. riptide is an amazing thing. gerry kept saying riptide is a great thing for a triathlete. yeah, still don't get that part. i felt like one of those stupid stretchy WWF wrestler dolls the boys had when we were little, that you could stretch and stretch. except the doll always snapped right back into place. me, not so much snapping back anymore. i'm not gumby. well, some would object to that, but that's another post.

toilet

again, kind of obvious, but you know how at the very end, right before everything disappears to the great beyond down that hole? the velocity of that spin, yeah, that was me. i was the shit headed down that hole, where i would land, no one would know.

even now, 5 hours later, i'm still giggling. the 'warmup' lap separated the herd quickly. somehow or another i made it past that first break. once i knew i was remotely safe, i looked around at the other 3-4 survivors around me. everyone had this 'WTF' look on their faces. priceless. leave it to me to state the obvious, i then posed the question "well, that was fun, but how the FUCK do we get back in?" crickets. so we just started swimming.

my buddy and i went back out to 'play in the waves' (yes, the wisdom in that statement has already been questioned numerous times). we'd just made it past the break and started swimming out to lap the buoy ahead. i'm swimming along, and the next thing i know, i see all white around me, i managed to see that i'm a good 7 feet higher in the air than dave, and i realize, "holy fuck this isn't good." i was laughing before i even surfaced. the minute i popped up, dave immediately asked me if i was ok. something he'd do many times in such a short time. all i could answer with was "what the fuck was that???" good times.

popped something in my bad knee while just casually trying to swim in the rip. i was not even trying to fight it, i knew better within 5 minutes of being out there. i was just letting it take me, and i heard the pop. then, while under a wave, the damn thing still sucked me up, and when it slammed me back down, i jammed my ring finger just like my good 'ole basketball days. and my swimcap got ripped right off my head. salvaged the goggles.

a friend of mine just recently asked me what to do if you're getting pummeled by a wave. 1. i'm oh so glad he wasn't out there today. 2. go limp, play dead. don't fight. it can smell fear. know that eventually it will pop you up to the surface. whether or not you'll have lungs filled with oxygen or sea water, that's debatable but dammit, eventually it'll spit you out. 3. you can't ever stop. you have to commit one way or the other. either go and fight like hell, or go the other way and run like hell. either way, there's hell involved. know that, embrace it, become one with it. for some of us, it's just good practice.

giving up to gain

the lesson for today, boys and girls, is that sometimes you have to let go in order to receive. you have to give up to gain. 

i am proud to announce that i have experienced a tremendous amount of growth in the last week - personally, athletically, hopefully even professionally. i'm a control freak. i openly admit it. i like to have things my way, i've been single for a long time now, and i cherish my freedom. maybe too much. probably too much. i cherish the aspect of my 'freedom' that allows me to not do the dishes if i don't feel like it (ok, well, load the dishwasher). or not do laundry until i'm void of clean underwear. to be ok with that not-quite-right-almost-downright-nasty smell coming from my refrigerator. or take a nap in the middle of the day because i can. so when growth of any sort (except the kind that can be used for medicinal purposes, ie. mold in the 'frige) occurs in my life, it's all but monumental.

i let go of someone incredibly important in my life to gain 2 incredibly important people

this one is a little more personal, but a huge growth for me. long story short, and in attempt to respect all parties involved, i've given up (ok, so i kinda was forced, but i could've been an asshole about it and i wasn't) (ok, so i was an asshole for about 12 hours or so, but then i got over it) a romantic endeavor to allow 2 others to possibly find love, and in the process have gained 2 oh-so-important friends. friends that i'll have for many many years to come, i can say that without a doubt. i'm a brat. i'm essentially an only child (explains so much doesn't it?) and i can just flat out be an asshole if i don't get my way. i know that about myself. i'm working on it. but in this particular case, it took an unbiased party to bring my asshole views to light for me. i'm not happy about it taking someone else to show me the err in my ways, but i was able to fix the situation in a timely manner while omitting any permanent damage. which i am so thankful for. i am nervous for the way this will all go, but i am relieved that all the lines of communication are open, and am actually a tiny bit excited to see what the future holds. that's pretty damn positive, even for me.

i let go of my ego to possibly get a job

i'm a travel nurse. which means there's about 1000 travel companies out there, all trying to pimp me out. and i'm a damn good ho (a post for a different time, but trust me, you could learn a thing or two from me, i've got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve) - currently i have about 6 different recruiters working for me, finding me jobs all across the country. when i was in new orleans, i dealt with a very bad manager. there was a 'situation' that occurred, and i didn't feel as though my recruiter on that job stood up for me, nor do i feel she respected my wishes. the first chance i got (which was the end of that contract), i went with a different company/recruiter. i've now been unemployed for almost 8 weeks. i'm so far past "beside myself" it's not even funny. so tuesday i swallowed my pride and called my old recruiter. and by friday evening i was nailing the shit out of an interview. i will know shortly if i have the job for sure...

i let go of my own fiendish desire to enrich the life of someone else

today was the strawberry fields triathlon. when i realized i was physically way past ready to do a tri, i tried to register for it, but it was closed. i was pissed. i was jealous, so jealous that everyone else was getting to race this weekend. i could've signed up to work for the LATC as a volunteer, but selfishly decided against it - if i wasn't racing, i didn't want to be there, me being my typical brat self. and then came along karen. we met friday morning for breakfast, because i knew it was her first tri, and i also knew she was a wreck. when i first thought about being there for karen, i was honestly worried. i didn't know what i could do, i haven't been at this for very long, hell, i haven't even had my first tri yet. but i let that go, and decided that regardless, i'm told on a weekly basis that i don't act like i haven't been doing this for years. and karen needed support, and i knew she would succeed, but i had seen that flash of doubt in her eyes over oatmeal and french toast and an appearance by steven weber friday morning. being there for her, it could've blown up in my face, but i felt safe enough, and i had enough resources/people available to me that if i got in over my head (and therefore us), i could get us out. the result, absolutely amazing. i don't think i've ever been that happy to see someone succeed in all my life. the minute she crossed the finish line, all i could think of was getting her picture because she was going to want to remember that moment for the rest of her life. after i got those pics, i could only hug her and cry. i gained so much today. i learned so much today. i learned how to read people. i learned how to see fear before it's expressed. i learned that i have a knack for coaching. i learned that i can yell incredibly loud. i learned why people love to coach, because at times, it's so much more to be a part of someone else's success than to create your own alone. i also learned that i have a new hunger for triathlon. i want to soak up as much as i can in the next couple of months. i want to be a coach of some type within the tri world, possibly within the next year. i am good at helping people find their own strengths, something that beginners must have in order to progress successfully and confidently. i look forward to seeing how i'm able to further contribute to TNS.

i let go of my own (false) sense of control to find a love of running AND (so i'm told) you have to slow down to speed up

yes, feel free to re-read that. especially if you've read any of my previous blogs. if you haven't read my previous running blogs, you should do so now. don't worry. i'll wait...

done? have you always read that slow? ok, let's proceed. ;-)

my problem in my running has been the fact that i couldn't control my heart rate. i couldn't run any slower, and my heart rates were way too high to allow me to sustain any sort of consistency. or comfort. i always had to walk. and when i say 'always', i mean every fucking run workout i have done in the last 4 months, with the exception of ONE, i have had to walk. if you've never had that problem, i can't even begin to tell you what it does to your ego, to your confidence, to your every workout every day. the way it all turns out, and the reason i threw the word 'false' into this subtitle is because my sense of control was absolutely misplaced. if not non-existent to begin with. last weekend my coach and i had an absolute breakthrough conversation, for the both of us, i feel safe saying. after that talk, i gave up every last bit of control i had, and just let it all go. it was partially a conscious decision, and partially a decision made out of sheer exhaustion at not being able to accomplish my goals on my own. wednesday i went out for a run, scheduled to be out for 1:15. the goal per coach, keep your HR in zones 2-3. my goal: keep my HR 130-150 as i'm lazy and really amazingly bad at calculating percentages, so i have yet to assign numerical values to my prescribed zones. the result, i was able to  be out there for 1:16, i had to walk 4 times for maybe a combined total of 10 yards in order to bring my HR down under 155, and WTF? i was able to enjoy myself. i found my 'forever' pace. something i used to view as an oxymoron. honestly. it was a snail's pace, no denying it. hell, those times i did have to walk, i shit you not, i initially felt nothing when i started my 'jog' back up again. but the goal was to control my mind and control my heart, and to make those 2 organs work in unison. mission accomplished. huge success. tonight, not even a week later, and after obvious dehydration today (who has time to hydrate when you're screaming your lungs out, flirting shamelessly - which is especially taxing i might add, and running your ass off back and forth between transitions and finish lines???), as well as lack of nutrition, i was able to duplicate wednesday's results. well, actually i did better. i NEVER walked this 4.6 miles, i did it WITH 11 0:30 sets of pickups interspersed in there. and i kept my HR under control. ginormous success. tonight proved that wednesday wasn't a fluke. on tonight's run/jog i started worrying/stressing (no, it never ends, smartass) about how this damn near crawl of a jog i've adopted can possibly translate into running faster, but my coach has yet to lead me astray. 

it's very seldom that my life revolves around a common theme - or maybe it happens more often and i'm too stupid to realize it. but when it does, it's even more rare that that theme is a positive one. i'm a cynic, 100% bona fide, card-carrying cynic. but now, i'm relieved, i'm hopeful, i'm surprised, i'm exhausted. oh, and i'm absolutely CRAVING my next race. the santa barbara triathlon august 22 and 23. especially since i found out there will be cowboy boots and a cowboy hat involved...should make for an interesting weekend. hope eve is ready!!!!

race report - ventura splash n dash

short version: i'm over it.

long version: hmmmm....where to begin.  how 'bout the swim.  makes sense.  the swim was tough.  big waves, current and poor sighting kicked me out a little farther than i'd like to have been after the first buoy.  popped up at just under my goal time.  that would be the last time for the day that i'd make one of my goals. 

 

transition. bastard fucking sand. the transition was even FURTHER inland than the transition for BOL!!!!! going up that hill in the sand was not conducive to bringing my HR down prior to the run. i was able to get my brace on without a problem, the whole transition was actually really quick.  the part that killed me was the damn uphill sand run.  well, it was more of a walk actually.  it screwed my HR, it ate my calves.  took me about 10 min into the run to get over the tightness in my calves. 

the run was actually pretty good.  couple of us females rooted each other each time we passed.  i'm pleased i was able to run it all without a problem.  my run time was 2 min slower than my goal, but hell, my transition time was 2 min slower than my goal too. 

as for my run and i, well, we're still only at the 'ass-out hug' stage.  haven't even made it to first base yet.  i'd say we're growing closer together.  it's a slow process.  i'm not rushing it.  i'm going to abandon that metaphor while it remains PG.  you're welcome.

decided i'm most likely NOT doing playa del run.  it's an unnecessary blow to my ego.  i know i suck at the run.  why do a race that showcases that?  for the practice?  uh, i can practice at home.  granted my tub is small, but i can do a couple laps and hop out, whip off my wetsuit and go.  it's obvious that or this first season, my swim and bike are going to carry my run.  i'm perfectly fine with that. 

so, whatever. i'm over it.  looking forward to the rest of this weekend!!!

my ride

after much deliberation, i've finally named my ride. TAUNTO. it's a dual-meaning name, really. on the one hand, it's an ode to my home, new mexico, from where we both originated. ahhh the mexicans. gotta love 'em. right? maybe that's a judgement call. the other, and more cocky meaning - he's taunting you. that last part, well we'll just have to see. but we're both very hopeful. 

taunto is about 6 years old, all specialized goodness. shimano ultegra components. taunto has a flaming neon orange aluminum frame with hot silver writing and a black/silver checkered carbon fork. quick release tires. a white 'I heart LA' sticker adorns the top bar - the heart, of course is a bike chain in the shape of a heart - taunto expects the best. he has a black leather covered seat of which i'm no longer able to read the brand. the leather is missing in sections, showing its soft cushiony foam underbelly. taunto's right handlebar curiously curls just slightly to the inside. it's endearing. taunto has a bell on the stem, which used to have a picture of a unicorn. the bell no longer has the sticker, nor the ringer pull-lever mechanism. the only way to make the bell ring is to knock on it with another metal object. taunto has not one, not two, but THREE different bento boxes. one for just behind the stem, and the other 2 we switch out depending on what kind of load we're carrying that day. 

the story of taunto's coming to be is as interesting as his name. taunto was built in a land far, far away, most likely under the watchful and slanted eye of some asian. good work sir. taunto was then sent to a bike shop in albuquerque, nm. where it was quickly stolen. serial numbers, who needs 'em? NOT TAUNTO!!! shortly thereafter, taunto showed up at a pawn shop in my hometown of grand 'ole clovis, nm. my loving father bought taunto at quite a cheap price (don't worry taunto, you're worth so much more, i know, i know) in attempt to coax me into riding with him. didn't work. i didn't appreciate taunto at the time. taunto was just a bastard bike, a means to inflict pain on myself. but not anymore. oh no.

the taunto of today, well now he's all growned up. the nice folks at helen's spiffed him up. gave him new gray tape to bring out his silver undertones. he got a new cateye, which sometimes works, other times not so much. wouldn't expect anything less from taunto. some nifty front and rear lights for when taunto wants to give me a ride at night...*blush*

taunto is quite the quirky little fucker. he loves to go fast, especially downhill, but he tends to whine along the way. he doesn't much care for wet roads. he's yet to have a flat tire, well, unassisted that is. shout out to coach b. taunto loves to be cleaned, he shines with happiness when the white lightening comes out. 

up next for taunto: a new chain, especially after last weekend's 100 miler. and new tires. we were recently told that taunto's mighty fine spokes are too much so to carry his rider's fat ass for much longer. bummer. new aerobars, soon to be installed. and a few new stickers. 'i heart taunto' or 'taunto says fuck you' or 'taunto says back the fuck up'...those are just a few ideas being bounced around at the moment...

i have big plans for taunto, and i'm sure he has big plans for me. so long as he keeps me alive, i'll show him lots of good PCH fun. that's our deal, we've already agreed.

100 miles of fun?

knocked another goal off my ‘crazy’ list this weekend: had my first century ride yesterday.  started at michael landon park across from pepperdine and went out to las posas.  and then i turned around and did it all over again.  for the first 50 loop i had my bff eve with me.  i believe waking up at 0430 for a 50 mile ride qualifies one for the ‘b’ in ‘bff’.  i was very concerned with 4th of july traffic, especially around malibu.  my other concern was the climbing.  i’m not a strong climber.  i had recently been told by a friend that michael landon was the perfect place to start my climbing adventures.  i wasn’t too keen on the idea of ‘climbing 101’ starting the day of my first 100 miler.  prior to yesterday, my furthest ride to date was 60 miles.  all of those factors could potentially be a recipe for disaster.

started the ride with 2 goals: one was an overall time goal, the other, not to bonk. simple enough.

this was also my first experiment with nutrition.  i have a wonderful friend who took the time the day before to go through my intake with me, while at the performance bike shop in SM (we were there for over an hour).  i wrote down my intake hour-by-hour on a piece of paper.  i separated everything out, 250-300 cals in each baggie with the time written on it, as well as what i was supposed to drink that hour.  OCD? maybe.  i just knew that if i got behind on my intake, i wouldn’t make it back up the hills coming in on the second loop. 

the first loop, in short, amazing.  the plan was to get rolling at 6, but eve knows me, and we were able to start 10 min early.  we had great conversation. nice and easy, much more like a long conversation over coffee as opposed to a workout.  she kept me right at 14mph or so - which was the plan (i think anyway; my bike comp. was on the fritz and i didn’t want to reset it until the first 50 were done).  eve is a wonderful conversationalist, and i relished in the fact that she talks just like she trains, she goes on and on.  maybe that’s why we get along so well.  i kept losing her on the downhills, she’s still skittish at high speeds after her last accident.  i, on the other hand, am stupid and love to tuck-n-roll.  i’m a firm believer in the direct correlation between not having to pedal and happiness.  3 miles out or so from big rock, things started getting a little chilly.  the sun wasn’t high enough yet to cover us.  i was fine with my arm warmers and fat ass, but eve wasn’t a happy camper.  she’s such a trooper though.  she didn’t tell me she had been freezing her ass off until we were already past our turnaround and headed back in.

our first stop was las posas, our turnaround.  we took pics, hydrated and excreted.  the way back was just as pleasant. right after big rock we spotted 10-15 dolphins.  love southern cal.  i stopped for another breather on the hill after leo carillo, which also gave eve time to catch up with me. proceeded to leave my sunglasses on the railing, but luckily remembered them quickly. traffic was starting to pick up at zuma, but it wasn’t too bad.  i was thrilled to find the hills of ML weren’t all i’d made them out to be (common theme in my life).  the overly long hill which peaks at cher’s (supposed) old house wasn’t fun by any stretch, but it was better than i’d expected.  on this first loop, i discovered that i have a really hard time getting cliff bars down.  gu, easy, chomps, not a problem.  even had a different powerbar, got it down with ease.  but cliff bars, even cut up like they were, are very difficult for me to chew up.  that discovery made me think a lot more during my transition about what i needed to change.

for transition, i’d mixed up peanut butter and honey, i’d planned on dipping tortillas.  but the half cliff bar i’d managed to get down just wasn’t moving.  didn’t even attempt the peanut butter.  eve just advised i get down a plain tortilla, and that i should be fine getting back out there because i had plenty of nutrition to last me the rest of the ride.  i got half of it down while switching out the planned afternoon’s cliff bars for other gus and chomps.  my liquid nutrition seemed to be working well, i’d only taken in half a bottle but the taste was fine.  so i mixed another full bottle per my schedule. physically, besides the knot in my stomach, i felt fine.  i even commented to eve that in no way did i feel as though i’d just rode 50 miles. 

said goodbye to eve, and i was rolling again.  this time, i committed the ultimate sin - i listened to my ipod.  well, actually i listened to my iphone.  when i do the pch 101 rides, i usually just put my phone in my front box and listen to my music through my speakerphone.  i had no intention of doing that this time.  i needed earphones. potentially 4+ hours of solidarity, nope, i needed musical entertainment.  plus my front box was full of food.  i didn’t have the volume up too loud, i was still able to hear when my gears weren’t right, and i was able to hear other riders.  don’t try to lecture me.  do 100 miles without a music, and you can come talk to me then.

as far as bike traffic, it was actually pretty sparse.  i think the whole first loop, we passed maybe 5-10 riders on either side.  the second loop, i was able to hunt down a group of 4 girls, picked them off one at a time.  before leo carillo.  that was fun.  shortly thereafter i was questioning the wisdom in that decision...i’m sure they weren’t out for a 100 mile ride that day.  but it still felt 

good. 

right after leo is where i discovered the blessed wind.  the hills that just 2 hours or so earlier i was hauling ass down 30-36 mph, i was now having to pedal to hit 28-30 mph.  little more than irritating.  my solution, send a friend a profanity laden text message.  trust me, when his initial reaction was ‘wow’, i knew it was pretty profane, even for me.  it was quite entertaining, took me a couple miles to concoct it in just the right wording.  after that, all i could do was laugh. well, laugh and shake my head. for fuck’s sake.  it wasn’t the worst wind i’d experienced out there, but it was definitely the worst wind i’d experienced at mile 62...max’s next piece of advice: ‘push past the crazy of mile 80...’ oh good.  because i wasn’t even at mile 65 at that point.  always nice to have something to look forward to.  so that got me wondering why i wasn’t really having a hard time yet. my stomach was fine again.  my legs, while they weren’t ‘fresh’, they weren’t bad at all. my mind, well, i was absolutely fine.  why was that?  then it hit me, literally. secondhand smoke - pot. ahhhhhh.  my opinion, fuck a gu.  puff puff pass.  JOKE.  well, mostly.  but, i’m pretty sure that if i had to do a drug screen after that ride, i’d be sweatin’ it until my results came back...gotta love socal surfers on 4th of july weekend.  god bless america i say.

at las posas revisited, i added to my lists of ‘firsts’ and discovered that some things just aren’t meant to do standing up.  took a pic at the road sign with my watch in view, partially so that i can remind myself that i really did it, and partially to prove to others that i really did it.  and then i was gone.  i was almost giddy at that point.  i was hoping like hell to have the wind with me, as i have been out there in the past and had a headwind the entire friggin’ ride.  ‘promiscuous’ came on by nelly furtado, there was dancing.  there was head bobbing.  and evidently i look good while doing both because i waved at a guy going the other way, and within a minute he was riding right next to me. sure, he probably planned on turning around between big rock and las posas (who does that?), but i like to think it was me. 

the way back in was blissful.  can’t believe i just wrote that.  the wind aided me to average 22-25mph most of the way back in.  it took me 37 min to hit leo, and 55 min to hit trancas.  fuckin’ ridiculous.  but i wasn’t complaining. hauling ass with minimal effort gave me time to focus on the way i address other riders out on the road.  eve has the cutest trademark grin and finger-twirling wave.  that’s not me.  i tried the right handed wave, looks a little overly excited for my tastes.  tried the left hand up on top of the handlebars in an actual wave, still a little too energetic.  you never want to seem energetic on rides.  karma.  so what did i decide on?  left hand, out, but down by my thigh.  shows respect, but also ‘i feel your pain dude’.  however, when i get my aero bars installed, it’s left handed deuces all the way.  already decided.  deuces are pure cool. 

zuma was mayhem.  so much traffic.  so many morons with no idea how to drive/park/co-exist with cyclists.  tried to keep my sailor mouth in check.  these same morons often have guns.  that parallel is interesting...IQ under 110 = automatic gun ownership.  hmmm

i stopped twice between zuma and my car.  why?  not real sure.  don’t think i needed to, but i had my coach’s voice in the back of my mind saying ‘you’re gonna have to be ok with stopping’.  so i stopped.  an interesting thing started to happen though - my tongue started to cramp.  i wasn't able to get chomps down unless i held them in my mouth until they melted into small enough pieces to swallow!  i knew it was electrolytes, and also probably overall hydration.  i got one more gu down and called it good.  i hit cher’s hill the sequel and just oggled it for awhile from the side of the road.  i didn’t know how the next 5 minutes were going to play out.  my legs were no better than ‘ok’, but it was also the last big one before the end.  song ends and what begins?  the theme song to the mel gibson movie payback.  so perfect.  i laughed for a second, and then got going.  made it to the top of the hill, and then the top of the last smaller one, and then i was home free.  the last 20 minutes or so, i was trying to beat my clock.  i had to beat the time goal put forth.  had to.  and i did.

today my legs are pretty tight so far but not sore.  my traps/upper back aren’t too happy with me.  nor are my reddened arms.  i know what i need to do for the next one, which is already in the works for about 3-4 weeks from now.  i have some other experiments i’ll be able to perform.  i'm pleased that after only 3 months or so of actual training, my first century ride is now complete. 

bring it on!!!

pelicans and politics

supposedly on the very near edge of official burn out. so after the race on sunday, and the subsequent beer, i was told i had 2 days off. no training. period. good idea, in theory. figures that those 2 days are the only 2 days i had to move all of my crap from one apartment to another. luckily my old apartment was only on the 2nd floor, so i was able to haul it box-by-box down one flight of stairs, out the back door and into my awaiting truck. but still, that’s a lot of stairs. once i got to my new place, they have a huge dolly and i park on the same level. cake. anyway, so my 2 ‘rest days’ were spent moving. = not rest days. last night i’m taking the last load to my new apartment, and i text a buddy of mine to ask where he swims on this side of the hill (i moved from beverly hills to the valley, something i said i’d never do). he responded by sending me a map with a dropped pin (LOVE iphones) and proceeded to tell me he was starting at 1830 if i wanted to come. that was 15 minutes away. i was heading in the opposite direction. long story short, i tried to get out of it, but dave wasn’t letting that happen. so i take my pull buoy with me thinking i’d have a nice easy cool down swim, keep him company and time him for his time trial. i get there, and in front of the complex are all my newly found friends from this past weekend’s race, all the valley coach people. big red flag. gerardo pops up, HUGE red flag. not good when you’re supposed to have the day off and you’ve been throw into a damn masters swim with a totally different team/coach. there was no getting out of it at this point; talk had turned to the race this past weekend, how our relay team whooped ass. i got thrown into the middle-of-the-road group, which pleased me afterwards. never done a masters class, and i suck at counting laps, so that was interesting. fought a cramping calf the entire damn way; managed to pull a few 1:45s out of my ass, but mainly 1:50s. i was happy - i wasn’t supposed to be working out at all, so i hadn’t eaten much of anything. was NOT prepared for that swim whatsoever. thanks dave. 

that experience, as well as this weekend’s race brought an interestingly new dilemma to light. that would be the politics involved with triathlon. specifically the coach/team aspect. this weekend i was with the valley coach people, gerardo is a coach for them. so when time came to accept our ‘awards’ i was thrown a valley coach tshirt. not a problem, i put it on. but then i felt weird, because TNS had gotten me to that point, and now i had to put on this other tshirt. so what did i do? i wore both and sweated like a damn pig on a spit. hell, i’m not giving up my discount for shit. but how does all that work? do you tell your coach about the conversations you had with this other coach (well, ya do now), or is it offensive to your own coach? do you take coaching tips from another coach and really adopt them, or do you let them fall right out the other ear and get your own coach’s advice later? sunday i felt like i was cheating on a boyfriend, a boyfriend who was great in bed, but was out of the town for the weekend when i really needed some. i never thought triathlon would be so political. this coach doesn’t like this coach, this group is out-of-their-fucking-minds-crazy, trying to break into this group is like trying to kidnap the pope from the vatican...it’s all too much. too much bullshit. and it’s awkward. and i don’t do awkward. i tend to play peacemaker. and there’s no peace to be had here. everyone seems just content with the way things are. can’t we all just get along?

which brings me to pelicans. they’re not nice birds. and they’re fucking huge. and stubborn. when it comes to a face-off in the ocean, like the one i had this morning, the bird usually wins. and they were out in mass, as were the sea gulls. freaked me out. really tough chop at the ocean speed circuit this am. i was able to get in 4 laps, but i got my ass handed to me by the very first wave. good times.