Going Long

On Saturday's schedule was a 2 hour 30 minute bike ride, plus an open water swim. This time we visited Sandy Point State Park, which is a lovely beach on the Chesapeake Bay with a gorgeous view of the Bay Bridge, none of which I can show you because I forgot the camera. Use your imagination. After another talk by another coach, we tried a few mass starts. Except I always wait for everyone else to go. Which sorta DEFEATS the point of the practice.

Then we did some swimming along the shoreline, practicing sighting. One of my DC Tri club peeps, oh, let's call him IRONMAN SIMON, actually pulled me aside in the water to show me what I'm doing wrong. Apparently I am TOO POLITE while swimming. Instead of slicing/driving my hand through the water, I am gently tapping it, like I don't want to hurt its feelings.

The minute I got to work today I put in a call to a swim coach. The same coach who told my other DC Tri club peep, oh, let's call him CASEY, that she was going to SLIT HIS NECK in order to get him to put his head down. My kinda coach!

After the swim, we all jumped on our bikes for the EPIC 40-mile ride, and then? There were five of us. Led by the intrepid Eagle Scout DC Tri club leader, let's call him WILL.

We got to mile oh, let's say ONE, and Will signaled that he was stopping. Then he stopped. BECAUSE THERE WAS A STOP SIGN. And a big ol' truck a'comin'. And I stopped too! Yay me!

As I was going down, I screamed "help" and reached out and grabbed Will, cuz I guess I didn't want to eat pavement alone. Thankfully he stayed upright. My brain was screaming CLIP OUT CLIP OUT CLIP OUT but my body was not responding. I went down. He stayed up. I was fine, just a little scrape on the knee but enough blood and grit to make me look hardcore. As Will said, "Now you can join the ranks of those who are awaiting their next fall," having gotten the first one out of the way.

Onward! Soon there were two. Me, in last place, and Will, about 1,000 miles ahead of me. But Will waited at every turn, of which there were many, to make sure I knew where we were going.

It was a beautiful day. We rode along superhighways, and back country rodes, over bridges, up and down big ass hills, while various songs played in my head. (After passing "Revolution Road," the Beatles and I had a nice time together.) Past the Canine Fitness Center, and the Wine Festival. Past the roadside memorial to some poor soul.

I spent most of my time trying not to envision my own death by bike. I have really got to replace my mental imagery.

At one red light, I pulled up alongside Will to entertain him with some witty bon mot (my bad, stay in line on a giant highway!), and when the light changed the minivan alongside me knocked my left elbow so hard its passenger-side mirror got slammed toward the window. Did the driver stop? Hell no! For all she knew my arm coulda been hanging off that mirror.

Some. People.

At 30 miles we hit downtown Annapolis and rode up to the place where the whole group was going to meet for lunch, but unbeknownst to us, had decided to skip. No matter!

I had been longing for a Coke. I had to have a Coke. If I didn't get a Coke I was going to kill someone. Curiously, I don't even drink Coke. Nor do I ingest it in any of its forms. It's probably been 20 years since I had a Coke! (Let's see how many times I can say Coke.)

Then Will and I got down to business and ordered lunch. He wanted soup. I was like, "Will, it's 120F outside!" Mysteriously, the soup of the day was: Watermelon.

Please, before you leave this earth, ride 30 miles in the blazing hot sun, and then go sit and have yourself a bowl of watermelon soup. It was like sex in a bowl.

Soon enough we were back on the road, with Will encouraging me that "there's only ten miles left." Which after a few hundred more miles? I knew was a lie. We finally made it back to the park, where my poor friend—oh let's call her Sandy—with whom I had carpooled—was sitting and waiting all by herself for me to return. She'd been back for an hour. She waited for ONE HOUR. Which right there deserves some kinda medal.

The rest of the group had gone here for lunch, and had saved seats for us, because that's the kind of peeps I hang with.

I then had the best crabcake sandwich of my life.

(Is this post too hyperbolic? Ya think?)

To recap: open water swim with personal training from an Ironman, a 40-mile ride (in 3:30) with my own personal guide, a snack to die for, and crabcakes and hush puppies afterwards.

Tell me again: When does tri training get hard?

New! Philly Tri Photos

Oh people, we're just getting started. You'd think I'd done an Ironman. Just a few (hundred) photos for your viewing pleasure...

Transition, all set up just LIKE I WAS INSTRUCTED! If you look really closely, you can see LBTEPA's list there at the back left.

Me and the BF (no, Laurie, not MY bf!)

I can barely reach you from in here!

Fresh from my awesome swim

The Meetup! Nancy Toby, D.C. Rainmaker, et moi

I own this town! I couldn't bear to leave afterwards. In Fairmont Park

Don't touch that dial!

Philadelphia Sprint Tri: Part the Rest in Excruciating Detail

But before the fun there was anxiety. A boatload of anxiety. Flotillas of anxiety. ARMADAS of anxiety (to continue with the boat metaphor).

As you may or may not know, I suffer from an anxiety disorder. I take this stuff daily, except on race days, or long-run days, when I find I don't need it:
Klonapin

I share this here not just because it's the malaise du jour, but in case anyone (of the two of you) reading suffers from this malady. I am living proof that you can in fact face your fears and do it anyway. It might not be pleasant at times, and you might in fact drive everyone around you mind-bendingly mad, but you yes, you can do it.

I got to Philly after a 4-hour car ride and immediately conscripted the Boyfriend—that would be Number One Daughter's BF—(who was giving up his room at the monastery (long story) to me and NOD for the night), to drive me to the expo to get checked in and attend the mandatory pre-race meeting, where they went over about 10,000 rules which no one in her right mind could possibly remember.

Then we did lots of running around to pick up last-minute items (CO² cartridges, gatorade, oatmeal, you know, the usual), 'til it was time to pick up NOD at the train station and head for dinner. I got to bed about 10 p.m. and slept like a baby.

Up at 5 a.m. Transition opened at 6. Of course I didn't realize that my sherpas, NOD and K. would not be able to come into the actual transition area with me. So we said good-bye and that's when I first cried. Because I wouldn't see them for another, what, 2 1/2 hours???

I may never see you again.

I want my mommy.

I just gotta say: Triathlons are ridiculously complicated. How to rack your bike, where to put your damn NUMBER on the bike, where to stash your stuff, how to SET UP your transition area.

I had LBTEPA's list with me, and I still couldn't get it all straight. There are a million little decisions to make, and everyone around you is rushing, all of which just sent my heart rate thru the roof. And that's before I even started!

For instance: where to put my glasses during the swim? There was supposed to be a "special needs" table at the swim entrance where I could leave them, and then they would be transported to the swim exit, a few hundred yards down the river. But what if they didn't make it? That would have been the end of my race. The alternative was to walk to the swim entrance blind, or wear my prescription goggles around. I opted to keep my glasses in my bag at the transition area, and just be blind for a while.

So note to those of you who wear glasses: Decide what you're gonna do ahead of time.

Luckily, (for me) I made friends with my bike rack neighbors, who tried hard to calm me down, (one of them even hugged me!) and another let me borrow her cell to call NOD (next note to self: Do not leave cell phone in car) when I realized I had tons of time before my swim wave at 8:14. So I found NOD and went to visit her and cried again.

I also gotta say: I DON'T CRY! Ever! What the hell is with all the crying?!?! K.asked me afterwards what I was so nervous about, and I couldn't answer. My free-floating anxiety had apparently simply reached its apex.

My main worry was not NOT completing the swim. It was completing the swim without a broken nose. As we have established previously, I read too much, and I had read one too many tri reports about brutal vicious swim starts, with people swimming over you and kicking you. And the wave that went off 7 minutes after mine? Men 25-29. Not known for their mild ways.

But as with MOST THINGS IN LIFE, all that worry was unnecessary. Soon enough it was time for my start. I got in the water, and tried to figure out where the slow people were. To the back and the right? Or the back and the left? It turns out that half the people in my wave waited 'til the horn blew before getting in the water, so there was no getting behind them. Since I wanted to get acclimated, I chose to get in and tread water for 7 minutes. The water temp was perfect: 74F. I had on my sleeveless wetsuit, just in case it gave me an advantage.

The day was glorious. Beautiful blue skies, and here I was, the luckiest girl on planet, getting to SWIM in the beautiful Schuylkill River (seriously, it was beautiful). We did a straight shot down under the Columbia bridge, turned right around the first triangular buoy, swam along the length of the bridge, turned right again, straight until the next rectangular buoy, turned right, and swam in.

Swim rating: A+! No collisions, and instead of me freezing and treading water when I got near someone, I actually—get this—went around them. Just as though it were a race.

.9K took me 26 minutes. Smooth and steady, freestyle, easy-breathing, all the way. Yay me!

I chose to walk to transition. Many people had counseled me about not rushing transition, and I listened. It might look like I pulled up a chair and took a nap, after reading a novel, but no, I just took my time. Next note to self: Bring towel to wipe feet and face, because that will work better than a T-shirt. Sigh.

I also decided not to run out of transition since my heart rate was still ridiculously high.

T1: 5:56

It took me a while to get settled on the bike, feel good and get my head in the moment, which was my goal throughout the morning. I didn't care who passed me. I just wanted to enjoy the ride. I finished loop one in 32 minutes, and saw K and NOD cheering in the stands, which was fun. The ride had a few good uphills, nothing too horrible, just enough to make it challenging, and some fun fun fun downhills. I finished loop 2 in 31 minutes.

Oh, and I remembered to thank each and every volunteer. Twice!

Can I just say I loved the bike course? The day was so perfect. The weather perfect. Philly perfect. I loved mankind. World peace? Of course!

The one unusual thing I noticed on the bike course: It was eerily silent. There was no gabbing amongst participants the way you find on, say, a run course. No car noises either, since the roads were closed. Just birds singing in the middle of the city. It was transcendent. Again I tried to stay in the moment.

Before I knew it, I was pulling into transition, 15 miles in 1:03, which somehow translated into 15mph (not), but whatever. My left foot stuck in my pedal and for a few seconds I thought I was going down, but at the last moment I pulled it out. This time I trotted over the timing mat cuz I didn't want to add to my bike time, but then I walked to rack my bike. People were running by me left and right.

Bike rating: A+!! Do this race just for the beautiful bike course.

Only one thing left. I changed shoes, drank some gatorade, noticed some chafing under my arms, so tried to body glide them, but my body glide fell apart. Off I strolled to the run exit.

T2: 3:48. I hated putting down that novel, but I had things to do.

The run. On all my practice bricks my legs felt like lead. Curiously, this time, they felt fine, they just wouldn't move. By now the sun was out full force. Mile one in 11:00. Not too horrible. I tried to settle in behind someone, anyone, who could get me through. When I hit the water stop, I ate a gu, gulped some gatorade, and settled in behind a 27-year-old guy who was running slow and steady. I sped up a bit and he looked over and said, "Whacha got?" to which I replied, "I'm EMPTY, babe!" He said his goal was not to walk, that he was telling himself he had the rest of the day to walk. Which I adopted as my mantra. I slowed as the sun got to me, and I developed some kind of weird stomach/side cramp. Everything felt good except my stomach cramp, for which I tried all kinds of breathing contortions.

Whatcha gonna do?

Before I could say "bob's your uncle," there was the finish.
Bringing it all back home

Run: 36:18/11:42 min miles. Which believe it or not was faster than I thought I was going.

Afterwards, I felt like barfing. Which was quite unfortunate since the piles of free food were immense. I couldn't think about food. Instead, I opted for this:
I'm pretty sure I proposed marriage to the masseuse.

And then there was this:



Later, there was some snoozing in the park, some french toast at a diner, a long nap, and a persistent headache.

If you've read this far, congratulations!

I want to remember every moment of this, and I thank God and my lucky stars that I could actually do it.

And were this my podium speech, I would also like to thank all my mentors, who put up with a LOT (they can tell you!), especially LBTEPA, 21st Cent. Mom, Little Miss, Nancy Toby, Eileen, all my peeps at D.C. Tri, D.C. Rainmaker, K., and of course, NOD. You are all terrific, but I must warn you: You'll be going thru it all again come July 27!

Philly Sprint Tri: Fun

I started the day Friday trying to remember my reasons and my one thing. Which was stressing me out because I was coming up with nada. I had no idea why I was doing this. I was pretty damn sure I should not be doing it.

Poor Number One Daughter's boyfriend had to listen to my nonstop blather on Friday afternoon, as NOD had to work and got there later at night. Finally I hit on it: Fun. Oh right, I was doing it for fun!

I cannot even BEGIN to describe how nervous I was. I cried BEFORE I even got near the water, just like a baby. Strangers hugged me.

It. Was. Fantastic.

So I cried beforehand and felt like barfing afterwards. What is NOT TO LIKE?!?!

My favorite part: the bike!!!

And the swim was great: slow and steady.

And then? There was the itty bitty 5k. Blech.

I'm exhausted, and excited and there is no way I can do an Olympic distance tri on July 27. Just sayin'.

Full report with pictures and diagrams to come. Meanwhile, thanks to everyone for all your tips and tricks. I used every single one of them!

Epicness!

It's taken me several days to calm down sufficiently from Saturday, when my tri club traveled to Lake Anna, Spotsylvania, Virginia, (it's way prettier than it sounds) to do a swim/ride (a SRICK?).

The 2,300-acre park, with its 8.5 miles of shoreline on the clear waters of the lake...The Lake Anna area is a Civil War history buff’s dream vacation.

Beautiful Lake Anna

I prepared for this trip like I was going to war:
Number One Daughter helped me write a list and then taped it to the front door. Imagine the list for the real tri.

It was another sunny clear hot muggy hot sunny hot day. We started with an open water swim clinic, led by the stellar Debi Bernardes who gave us a million tips like how to sight while swimming and how you should wear your goggles under your swim cap so you don't lose them when you get kicked in the face and a few other things I've forgotten.

NTP-ers listen raptly, while sweating profusely.

My friend L., who has a thing about food.

Most people did not wear wetsuits because the water was 80F and there was no need. But frankly, I've never met a wetsuit I didn't like. I chose a sleeveless model this time, because they are more fashion-forward, and well, because it was my last open water practice before the Philly Sprint—my first triathlon ever—this coming Saturday, and I wanted to simulate the day as much as possible.
This is the way you do this.

We practiced swimming in groups, and sighting. Both of which? I pretty much suck at. Here's how I "race" the swim: I notice someone is near me. I stop, tread water, and think, "Oh, you're swimming near me? How about I stop and let you go by, because I don't want to get in your way." So my swim on Saturday should be really interesting, when the wave behind mine is Men 25-29. Cuz if I do any stopping, I'm gonna be crushed like a bug.

Not that I'm worried.

Back to last Saturday: So we swam around some buoys a few times and then it was time to saddle up!

There were about 50 of us new triathletes, and for some reason, it took me forever to get out of the wetsuit, into shoes and socks and sunscreen and helmet and pump up the tires and get the gloves on and make sure I had enough gu in the little pocket thing that sticks up on the crossbar of the bike (but first I had to put the little pocket thing ON the bike) and two bottles of gatorade, and the map, don't forget the map! Next thing I knew, everyone was heading out of the park.

A little 26-mile ride. My longest ride yet. Through what I thought would be the well-protected roads and paths of Lake Anna State Park.

I spent the first 20 minutes trying to catch someone, anyone, and then? I gave up. Lucky for me, a most lovely Ironman and a half Ironman (girl? woman? person?) were riding sweep. For a few miles I had a few other people in sight, and even caught them a few times (OK, once when one got a flat). But mostly it was just me myself and I, trying hard not to panic.

Why was I panicking, you ask? Cuz I was on roads. With cars. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, 18-wheelers. And hills. Hills that went screaming down down down (someone was screaming anyway. I think it was me) and then up up up. If I were my own mother? I would have been terrified for me. Come to think of it, I was terrified for me!

If I wasn't worried about going downhill arse over elbow I was worried about going uphill and falling sideways. However, I am pleased to say I made it intact, never had to walk, despite the driver of the 18-wheeler who decided to try to edge me off the road—Me! I am probably his mother's age!!—and for good measure blew his horn to make certain my heart completely stopped. Which it did. There may have been more screaming here.

I gave him a very special wave.

Somewhere around here I remembered why I hate amusement parks: the rollercoasters, to which I am equally attracted and repelled.

And then I remembered why I love riding: Because it reminds me of my misspent childhood, on my bike on a hot summer day roaring down the middle of the 9-house street I lived on—Carbonella Drive in Hamden, Connecticut.

And then I remembered all the falling off the bike.

Sigh.

It was hot. And long. Eventually the sweepers swept up to me, and even though I was embarrassed to be last, I was grateful to have them to ride with. Mr. Ironman noticed I'd gone through both bottles of Gatorade, and just like that he stepped up and saved my life. He handed me his bottle! Another sweeper, Mr. T., had to tell me to eat another gu. Apparently, I was saving my 2nd one for an emergency of some sort.

So I'm pretty sure I was suffering from a bit of too much heat. We ended up riding for 30 miles, in 2 hours and 20 minutes (listen, that's epic in my world) and when I FINALLY got back to the parking lot, I peeled myself off the bike, grabbed clothes to change into, walked into the ladies room, took off every stitch and tried not to pass out. I don't know how long I was in there but it was a long time. When I came out I stretched out on the grass until my friend S. came by and pulled me up and stuck my head under a water fountain, which has to be what heaven feels like.

And then? D.C. Tri did what it does best.


After a long-ass car ride in stop-and-go traffic for two hours, I finally made it home.

And then took a look at this:
It's not easy to get an effect like this, ya gotta admit.

I ended the day watching the restored version of "Rear Window" at the American Film Institute (stop what you are doing and go see it right this minute).

And then I slept the sleep of the dead.

On the agenda for the rest of the week: Worry about Saturday. I'm happy to report I've got that well in hand. (Rumor has it that two other bloggy friends will be doing the Oly distance on Sunday. There is vague talk of a bloggy meet-up.)

All in all, 'twas a day to remember.

Kansas 70.3

Your favorite and mine, Little Miss, is rockin' the Kansas HIM! You can track her
here, bib 437.

GO AJ!

UPDATE: Kansas was called due to weather, toward the end of the race. Sucks. Go give AJ some comment love. She could use it.

Joy Vs. Sloth

My two close buddies. Who's winning?

Saturday morning was pure joy. It was spectacular, despite the fact that the humidity was 120% and the heat index near 100F.

It was brick time at Haine's Point with my new triathlete peeps. On the agenda: Bike: 1 hour 30 minutes, run 15 minutes.

As I was driving to the Point at 7:30, I saw all the marathon running groups out—and the runners already all looked like death on a stick. I seriously hoped that they'd been out running since 6 a.m., and not, like since 7:15.

I rode with J and she taught me about 50 different things about biking and triathlons. Like how to keep my cadence up (or down) and how to turn corners (inside knee up and out), how to shift and when, and how to turn the pedals (seriously--you use a "scraping" motion toward the bottom of the circle. Who knew?)

Despite the fact that the humidity that was so thick you couldn't see the Potomac River 50 feet away through it, it was heaven.

Cuz on the bike? You make your own breeze! Plus? You're sitting down! It's all good!

I attended a nutrition clinic put on by the club on Thursday night, and I don't remember everything but I DO remember the nutritionist saying 24 oz of fluid every hour. (Can that be right?) Whatever. I went to the bike store Friday night and bought a second water bottle cage, like all the Big Kids have, and in a fit of superior bike mechanic skills, attached it myself. Right. Side. Up.

Go me.

So we did 21.6 miles (almost a marathon!) in 1 1/2 hours. And then there was the run, which was sucky, but only lasted 15 minutes. Just call me Jeanne "I can do anything for 15 minutes" McCann.

This was the joy part. I look forward to Saturday mornings all week long (even as I continue to make myself sick with anxiety each Friday night. Some things never change). I get to hang with a terrific group of people, and pretend to talk smack. (Look! I'm already someone's 'inspirational nemesis'. Ha ha. Watch your back, buddy.)

I meet someone new every week and they are unfailingly the most fun, encouraging bunch I have ever met. I get to talk tri stuff ad nauseum with people who don't roll their eyes.

I get to leave work and worries far far behind.

It's joy. Pure and simple!

I remember Saturdays when I was marathon training. I would come home after a three- hour run and would be seriously useless for the rest of the day. If not the weekend. But this training doesn't physically render me useless. In fact, I felt pretty damn good after I got home and downed some chocolate milk for my recovery drink.

Until I remembered that a) I don't drink milk, and b) I'm off sugar!

Sigh.

I spent the rest of Saturday in a veritable orgy of sloth, (and I'm blaming the chocolate milk), on the couch, where I watched every single episode of...wait for it...

MAN VS. WILD!

From which show I learned how to eat spiders and slugs, build a fire with a flint, scale a flat rock face by stovepiping, avoid a flash flood, tell the difference between freshwater and saltwater crocodiles, when and whether to drink your own pee...need I go on?

The premise of the show is that the host, Bear Grylls (could that possibly be his real name?), international man of mystery, gets dropped in all sorts of inhospitable places, like say, the Australian outback (not the restaurant) and then has to survive using only his wits. This is supposed to help YOU, the viewer, just in case you ever find yourself stuck in the Australian outback during the dry season out of water. And food. And you don't happen to have a film crew with you.

A little more about the Bear:

In June 2005, Bear broke a world record by hosting a dinner party at a table suspended below a hot air balloon at 24,500 feet. He rappelled from the balloon's basket to the table, where in full naval uniform he ate a three-course meal before saluting the queen and skydiving to earth. His goal was to support the work of two charities: the Prince's Trust and the Duke of Edinburgh's Award.

(Dude, write a check next time!)

It's oddly...addictive.

So, no joke, I watched it all day. Except for when I took a break to ... NAP. Then I woke up and watched some more.

Finally I went to bed.

Tally:
Joy 20%
Sloth 80%

Bear, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I might have to revisit how we spend our time together.

Hump Day Miscellany

Since 21st C Mom tagged me, I get to steal her post title.

1. How would you describe your running 10 years ago?
Er, non-existent.

2. What is your best and worst run/race experience?
Best race was my 5k PR set Jan. 1, 2008, when I finally broke the 10-min mile barrier in 30:15. Whoo hooo!

2nd best was the National Half-Marathon March 2008, which was hard but where I also set a PR of 2:31:57.

3rd best was the Fredericksburg Blue-Gray Half Marathon December 2007, which was hard but fun, cuz I got to be with my peeps, Susie and David.

(It's kind of telling how neither of my two marathon experiences appear in this list.)

Worst run experiences: Pretty much every single training run in which my group ran away from me while I brought up the rear. Sigh.

3. Why do you run?
Silly question—so I can eat, of course! Well, actually I started running to avoid back surgery. True story.

4. What is the best or worst piece of advice you've been given about running?
Best advice: Just get out and do it.
Best advice: Hills are your friend.
Best advice: Do track workouts.

Worst advice: Always push yourself during training runs.
Worst advice: "If you don't feel like doing the whole long run, you can just shorten it."--a coach from a nationally syndicated marathon-training group.

5. Tell us something surprising about yourself that not many people would know.
(Oh, like there's something that I haven't already divulged??)

OK, you asked: I would really really REALLY like to not have to work full-time (full-time plus!) for the rest of my life. I would do good works, I would be the BEST volunteer on earth, I swear! Just a little, teensy break please, because I've been working nonstop since I was 15 and now I'm 51 and I can't even count that high.

The Miscellany Part
1. I rode 12 miles on the trail this morning. The trail that the Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission in its wisdom decided to impose a speed limit on. (Listen, I'd be thrilled if I could get UP to the new "speed limit." Lots of great comments on this article, both pro and con.). There was a big storm last night and about 4 miles in a giant tree blocked the path. You had to climb over it, not easy with cleats and a bike. But, this is how it worked: As you came up to the tree, there was (magically!) cyclist on the other side. You handed your bike to him or her, then climbed over. Then it was your turn to help the next person.

I heart cyclists.

2. There is no 2.

Now I tag Peter, Old School Runner, the Blogfather, Jade Lady, and Jack.

What Happened Next Was

I went to Haine's point on Saturday and did another "brick" with the D.C. Tri club. Saturday's brick (NOT ON THE SCHEDULE, I'm just sayin'!) called for a 1:15 ride and a 15 min run.

It was a beautiful perfect day. I felt good. God's in his world and all is well. What could go wrong?

Well, nothing really. The end.

I rode 1 hour and 15 minutes and covered about 15 miles to everyone else's 20. And then I ran 15 minutes, with legs made out of jello that apparently had been encased in cement.

After that there was a barbecue. With TONS of food. This is the most fun bunch of people! I even met another blogger. Go give him some bloggy love.

I was a little bummed about my bike speed, but whaddya gonna do? I didn't fall over, so that was a plus.

(Sidebar: Speaking of falling over: So I was out riding on the trail one morning last week when a colleague caught up with me. We rode together past where I usually turn off, cuz he was showing me a shortcut to work that didn't involve stairs. It did involve darting between cars that were stopped for a red light. The problem with that is that the cars are stopped in one direction, but there are other cars turning onto the road. Not only cars; there is the occasional TROLLEY. And that's how I elevated my heart rate waaaay beyond any training zone. Clipped in, riding in between cars stopped at a light, when I looked up and saw a trolley. God help me, somehow I managed to clip out, stop, and not fall over. I deserve any and all abuse you wish to heap on me.)

But not going fast on the bike is OK. It's not like June 21 is right around the corner or anything. I have plenty of time.

Sunday was supposed to be a one-hour run. Not happening. I went off the NUTRITION RESERVATION and I totally blame church, where, in a fit of insanity, I ate a donut. OK, OK: I had TWO donuts. And then? I crashed and burned. When I got home, I took a two-hour nap, thinking I'd get up and head to the Y to run on the treadmill, my new favorite toy. Not. Happening.

Once you are off sugar be very careful starting up again. It's like taking powerful drugs. Sure you feel good for about 2 minutes, and then BAM. You are so done.

Number One Daughter is back home and has got it into her head that she wants to live in a clean, and organized, house, so we spent the rest of Sunday leaving stuff by the Dumpster, where other people often come and grab it, and giving away loads of linens and clothes that don't fit anymore.

Today was a 45 minute run, which I thought I'd turn into an hour run because of yesterday's day off. I appear to be addicted to the treadmill, which is very odd because I used to detest it. But, ya know what? I go faster on it, so I figure (hope? pray?) that my "speed" will translate to the open road.

So I planned to do my hour run tonight. Note: The YMCA politely requests that you limit your workout to 30 minutes if people are waiting.

Which of course, I interpret to mean that EVERYONE ELSE should limit their workouts to 30 minutes.

After my 30 minutes were up, I oh-so-nonchalantly reset the treadmill to 30 more minutes, when some old coot came up to me and said "YOU KNOW THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING." Well, really! Some people!! Who do they think they ar...oh, actually, it's me who's the ass****.

I hate when that happens.

So, no hour run yesterday, no 45 minute run today, the plan is a shambles, but my apartment is really clean!