Elephant Butte Race, er, I mean, VOLUNTEER Report.

So yesterday morning, I followed Sweet Baboo on his second trip around the 26-mile course down at Elephant Butte. He was doing this as a training ride and also to get familiar with the course since he would be officiating here at the inaugural "Elephant Man."

Elephant Butte (elev. 4500) gets its name because of the formation that looks like an elephant (click on the first photo, above, and see what you think.).

Pirate tried in vain to show me, "There, look at that flat spot, that's the ear, can you see it?" but to be truthful, I thought it looked more like a shar-pei.

But I guess Elephant Butte is more poetic than Sharpei Butte. I'll let you decide.

The place where we stayed, Elephant Butte Inn and spa, was very nice, and in fact I think the race should adopt their logo for the T-shirts. The one they have was drawn by a local guy, and I can understand the loyalty to him and his effort, but it's weird seeing what appears to be a picture of Ganesh riding a bike with a snorkel and fins.

So anyway.

When Baboo got to the hill they call, "Big Daddy" I know I stared, open-mouthed and watched Baboo attack it, up out of his saddle, his speed dropping steadily as he climed the approximatley 11% grade, hill headed straight into a strong, steady wind.

Mini-me piped up. "He won't make it"

"Yes, he will."

"He can't. He's moving too slowly. He'll fall over"

He did make it, and then the long climb that followed that one up back onto the mesa.

It was then that I made a couple of phone calls, to people who I knew were leaving Albuquerque at that moment, headed down here to do this race.

Now, the key to talking to athletes when wanting to discuss a daunting course with them without freaking them out is the use the special code. I never understood it before, but I did now. For instance, the long run from the lake up to T1 becomes, "a bit of a jog."

A long hill becomes, "a bit of a climb".

A really big steep hill will, "get your attention."

A strong steady gale becomes, "some wind, but we're hoping it will clear out by tomorrow"

In short, a torturous course becomes, "a challenge."

I swam the course, and it was about 72 degrees, which was good because I forgot my wetsuit. However, it was as choppy a swim as I'd ever had, though I think it was calmer the next day; on the way back in I was swimming straight into the chop and finally started swimming really aggressively, almost stabbing my hands into the water as I headed back to shore. Thank goodness for bilateral breathing.

Then we walked the first miles of the 10K out-and-back. As the first mile approached the road, there was a steep hill of deep sand. By this time I was nearly laughing hysterically. I was soooooo happy to not be doing this race. It seriously violates my laziness threshold. I will do short and challenging. I will do long and easy. Long and challenging, though, just pisses me off.

hilly, windy bike
hot hilly run, damn, I'm glad

to hand out water.

The next morning, we packed up after the swim start and headed out to the aid station. During the race, I was happy to move do a little dance in the road to the music and ring a cowbell. Pirate, Maria and I were wearing our little black dresses from SkirtSports that we'd screeed with our team logo on it, and I hoped to be some inspiration to the male triathletes as they chugged up a steep hill, the top of which was the run turn around and our aid station. Also volunteering with us was VeganRunAmok.

The women triathletes I wasn't as sure how to inspire; short of having Mike and Time stand around shirtless. Everybody, though, seemed happy to us, the water, the gatorade, the gu's, the ice-cold sponges.

As athletes ran up a formidable hill toward our station at the turnaround, they were first met with Pirate in her leetle black dress and cowboy hat, asking if they want a gel, what flavor? Caffeinated or un? Then Mini-me pumped up a super soaker and asked if they wanted to be squirted. Next, there was Maria and VeganRunAmok with water and gatorade. After running around the tent they were offered icy cold sponges. Then they had one last chance for a gel before heading back down the hill. All this while listening to what we hoped was inspirational rock and pop tunes from a loud boom box.

I mostly rang the cowbell and tried to look cute.

At the aid station of this small race (163 signed up) I saw SW TriGal and her sweetheart Hartley, Cindy, Lisa Tri-ing, and many others including Pirate's Beloved.

I was somewhat inspired to do this race next year, but again I'm not sure. It's at the end of the season, after my A races. The bike is unbelievably difficult. The run is completely exposed and hot, and a third of it is through soft sand.

But the venue is nice, and quiet. The pre-race pasta dinner was held out on a lawn on a warm, breezy summer night. The people who live here are nice, enthusiastic, and tend to drive 5-10 miles under the speed limit, making is a nice safe place to ride a bike.

In fact, the only rude person I saw wasn't even from here: she had come down from Albuquerque in her porche and was furious that the road to her slip at the marina was closed. She cursed, and swore, and eventually apologized when the park police agreed to let her go through so that her $2000 (she was happy to inform me how much she paid for her slip) wouldn't be wasted so she could go sit on her boat.

I'd recommend this race. The volunteers (ahem) are awesome, and the course well-marked. While it is challenging, it's up to you to overcome it; the roads are all in good shape so it's just you, the sun, and the hills, baby.

You might even get to see me there.

Yeah, I'll probably do it next year. Sand, hills, and all. (Sigh.)

RESULTS:

Our aid station won first place. Woo-hoo! And why not? It was the only aid station manned by real, live triathletes, y'all.

....

Random bits of excitement.

1) I found a local source of chinese mock meat, in the freezer of a local world food market. As I write this, I am enjoying cajun mock shrimp, which is awesome, and Sweet Baboo is having some mock barbecued pork, which is so good, you can almost taste the trichinella.


2) My tattoo is finally past the reallllly itchy/peely stage. I'm going swimming tomorrow.


3) I managed to get through the day without throwing things at the head of a particular student, even though I thought about it more than once. Thought about it. Long and hard. (hah, heh, she said long and hard) Guess what, Miss Thang? Having a diagnosis of ODD in your record doesn't exempt you from being written up.

4) I've decided that 2008 will be the year of my first ultra marathon. I'm not fast, but I'm good at holding a pace (my coach even said so.) Here's some runs that I'm considering, for next year. If you've done any of these, let me know! I'd appreciate some feedback. The first 50K's I'd like to do would be ones that don't have cutoffs.

• JANUARY: the inaugural Mississippi Blues marathon, in Jackson OR the Big Bend 50K in Texas.
  
• APRIL: the Fiesta de Albuquerque Marathon.
  
• MAY: the Jemez 50K trail run.
  
• AUGUST: the LaLuz trail run, if I get picked. The field is limited, and runners are selected by lottery.
  
• SEPTEMBER: Colorado Relay, with assorted Peeps such as Pirate, Pirate's Beloved, Sweet Baboo, and others.
  
• OCTOBER: Palo Duro 50K Trail Run.

6) I'm almost caught up on my blog reading. I fell way behind.

7) I found a new blog I'm addicted to. Here's a sample: http://www.hoboteacher.com/blog/2007/02/work-on-your-classroom-management.html

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Crappity crap crap.

Other than getting caught up on my blog reading this weekend, I have discovered that being a sloth is not without its downside. Why? Because I got back on the bike today with friend/masseuse Stephanie and headed out for a 55-60 mile ride.

(Sweet Baboo went out by himself to do 100 miles of hills and NO I'M NOT KIDDING, I SWEAR TO GAWD, ONE HUNDRED MILES OF HILLS and I'm sure he would have invited me along but he probably knows I would have answered with something like, "uh, no thanks, I can just beat on my own legs with a mallet".) But anyway.

SO I headed out on this little ride thinking, this is no big deal, I am IRON MISTY after all, and, well Holy. Hell, my quads seemed to have completely atrophied to nothing.

Hills left me panting. The wind pushed me backwards, but ONLY me, as Steph pedaled easily ahead of me, and I think she was even singing a little song or something, so easy were the climbs on this little jaunt.

I've discovered that even if you are trained up for an Ironman, one with lots of hills, no less, well, APPARENTLY if you ignore your bike (except for an occasional insult and hateful look every time you walk by) for three or four weeks, you LOSE some of your CONDITIONING.

DID YOU READ WHAT I WROTE? It all goes away! CRAP! CRAAAAAPPPP!

Doing a long course should be like getting a college degree. You've gone that far, and now it's permanent. There should be a rule that you can't lose your conditioning once you're finished a long course triathlon. All in favor, say aye.

I even had to stop once or twice, not just because my legs have lost their conditioning and ability to head up even moderate hills and go against the wind, but perhaps more importantly, my ass has lost its conditioning and the requisite ability to stay comfortably on a saddle for 3-4 hours without feeling chaffed and bruised.

That's some bullshit, son.

So Now I have to, I guess, ride the bike more. CRAP. And, just when I was starting to have a grudging tolerance for the bike, I hate it again. HATE. IT.

So now, I have to build my legs and butt back up for my final tri of the season: SOMA half iron on October 28th. CRAP. And, I have precious time left to do it.

Why can't we just swim and run?

CRAP.

Thank you for letting me have this little tantrum.

...

in praise of slow.

I like the word 'indolence.' It makes my laziness seem classy. ~Bern Williams

Okay, so now September is drawing to a close and my month of sloth is over. I've meandered, whined, and avoided sweaty stuff for a few weeks now.

I claimed this month as my month of sloth - even though I did do a couple 7 and 10 mile runs here and there, and, um, a few bike rides, as well as a lot of swimming, at least until my tat was done.
Oh, and I also did Wednesdays with the Jimmy. Wednesdays are "turbo bricks," where we alternate plyometrics, interval training, and spinning. I never miss Wednesdays with the Jimmy. Even as I dread them, because he makes me go fast. However, during track intervals, the Jimmy usually sends me around the track first, so that there isn't a huge lag time between when the others are done and I finish.

For most of my life I was completely sedentary. Now I feel lazy for 'only' running 10 or so miles in a week! This week, for instance, I was scheduled to do a 10 mile run one morning before work (I have to be at work at 7:10) and I thought, nuh-uh. Don't feel like it. I'll do it later. Then that afternoon and evening, it rained like hell. I'll admit, I was relieved. Still didn't feel like a run. But even as I was thinking that, I was thinking, I have got to quit being so lazy, or I'll never get faster.

Which got me to thinking about lazy, which technically I'm not, and slow, which I definitely am.

I mean, I feel lazy but then the people I know every day don't exercise hardly at all. I guess i feel "lazy" because I hang out with some pretty intense people. Pirate likes to run (and bike) up mountains, and her Beloved runs a half marathon in about an hour and a half.

And relative to the Sweet Baboo, I'm pretty lathargic when it comes to training. For instance, if he had come in from running, as I did this morning, and discovered he shorted his long run accidentally by nearly 2 miles, he'd go right back out again and do more. Not me. I called it good, and made myself a Recoverite smoothie. It's all about the smoothie, baby.

And, as a result, I'm slow. Of course, it doesn't help that I've got 42 years under my belt of having been consistently rewarded for doing things s-l-o-w-l-y.

I didn't go to college until I was 26, and then I took 5-1/2 years to get my bachelor's degree. However, I've had jobs (mostly math teaching) fall at my feet ever since.

I met Sweet Baboo later in life than others meet their true love. But there's nothing or nobody I'd rather have with me if I were marooned forever on a deserted island.

And, despite an average 5K run speed over 10 minutes per mile, and an average bike speed in the 14-ish mph range, I've finished almost every single triathlon I've ever tried, including an Ironman. I've done over 30 of them in two years, and I've never had an injury, no a muscle spasms, and just one tiny toe blister that I disovered two days after Ironman Louisville.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this...

It just seems to me, that if I were supposed to be faster, I wouldn't be having this good a time, y'know? I wouldn't feel this healthy. Right now, my slow run, between 10k and 10 miles, is around a 12 minute mile. Above that, it's between 13:30 and 14:30. My five K time is still over 10 minutes.

Sometimes I think of the benefits of fast and envy faster people: they get done before it's really hot, spend less time working hard, and it's a bit easier. There's still pizza left at the finish line because the faster triathletes and their families haven't eaten it all yet. The photographers are still there.

Then again, I go to the local Wall-wart and compare myself to the general population and feel better. Many Americans can't pass a general fitness test, but I can run down most 8th graders. While others are waiting for the closest parking spot I'm jogging across the parking lot.

And, I was slow at IMLooUHville, but not too slow to finish, y'all.

Lots of things are better slow , such as food, sex...uh, okay, I guess it's just food and sex. (But what else do you want?)

Plus, I notice things during runs that faster folks miss sometimes. The sunflowers at the Oklahoma Redman. The smell of chocolate flower on my long runs up the north diversion channel. That funky smell on the run at the Cotton Country sprint. That mailbox that looks like a fish in the AtomicMan. That one horse that seemed to be looking right at me in Kentucky. The fact that since I'm the last of my friends to be done, I always have a cheering section at the finish line.

But now my month of "sloth" is over. I've run out of excuses: I'm no longer recovering from Ironman LooUHville, my tattoo, or starting back to work. It's time to step it up a bit. Tomorrow I'll do at least a 60 mile ride. I'll go back to swimming next week because the tattoo is nearly fully healed (I seem to heal much faster now than I used to.)

I'll keep working out, and if I get faster, so be it. I'll do a couple weeks of intensity to get back in shape for SOMA. Maybe I'll do SOMA faster this year. Maybe not. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy being slow.

This morning, I did a run without my garmin that I was convinced had to be at least 9 miles. Turned out to be 8.25 (whoops). However, I did it under a 13 minute mile, which was pretty good for me, considering it was hilly. And, I felt FAB. U. LOUS. Beautiful morning, that smelled good and felt good. And I enjoyed it, running as I do, S.L.O.W.L.Y.
...

Me and my soapbox.

Today I'm teaching two-step equations and multi-step equations.

The problem:

-4(x + 1.25) = -8

-4x - 5 = -8

+ 5 + 5

-4x = -3

/-4 /-4

x = .75 or 3/4

C'mon. I just gave you flashbacks, didn't I? Didn't I? Did your math PTSD kick in?

One of the hard parts of teaching Algebra, is trying to explain to a teenager and sometimes their parent (Why are we learning this?) that everything you're teaching them helps their brain form new connections that will help them learn other things faster in the future.

This to a group of people who, for the most part, can barely conceptualize next week, much less a few years from now.

Of course, look who I'm talking to. I've noticed a huge proportion of triathletes have degrees in engineering. So I guess another answer to the question, Why are we learning this? might be so that someday you can obsess about yours or other people's statistics and enter formulas into Excel that will aid in your obsessing.

But anyway.

Today I'm going to rant, and it's not about triathlon, so I won't at all be hurt if you choose not to read.

So I was at the gas station and CNN was on and they were reading letters from people who were responding to a story about merit pay for teachers. Something that, for the record, I am against.

The general consensus of the folks that wrote in: I'm sick and tired of these teachers and their unions asking for more money. All my taxes go to support these teachers and their schools!

My favorite: If teachers want more money, they should teach summer school!

My second favorite: Why should my taxes be raised? I don't even have children!

I also noticed that some teachers wrote in, and talked about "these parents". As in, These parents need to raise kids that actually care about learning.

Hmmmm.

I've been a teacher for 8 years. I've been a parent for 23 years. I also have a master's degree in educational psychology and research.

My take: We live in a culture that does not really care about kids. Oh, we say we do, but we have companies in the private sector that penalize people for having families. Our, "culture of life" consistently passes legislation that underfunds things for children such as education, healthcare, and social services.

As a result, kids are warehoused into crowded schools while their parents try to make a decent living for employers who penalize them if they take a day off to volunteer at school or take their kid to the doctor.

The tax system in this country does not take into account that fact that kids spend much of their waking time in schools - there's so much more we could be doing than just testing the crap out of them. We could be working with whole families instead of just being tangentally in touch with them and having this whole "us" and "them" thing going.

And I think that politicians like that. As long as we have this "us versus them" thing going we play the blame game and don't get organized to make them pass the legislation that will protect our children and our families.

For instance, we (schools) want ot be partners with you in raising good, happy kids. But, it's hard to transfer qualitative variables such as "stable home" and "happy, well-adjusted child" into the hard data that is demanded by No Child Left Behind. They don't want creativity, they don't want well-adjusted. They want proficiency scores.

Did you know: By 2014, every school in the US is required to have 100% of all students pass the proficiency tests.
I'm not making this up. 100%. Of all students. Regardless of mental ability. Or else.

I live in a state that has fairly decent pay for teachers, but I didn't ask for it. If I had my druthers, I'd have smaller classes. In fact, according to research, the school-related variable that is most closely associated with school achievement is class size.

Nobody who pays for four years to major in education is in it for the money. Some are in it for the coaching, but all are in it because they want to work with kids. Unfortunately, plenty of teachers are driven out because they become demoralized by how stingy communities can be, and how skewed the priorities have become.

Instead of raising my salary, I'd like to NOT have a limit on how many photocopies I can make in a year. I'd like my class size to be capped at 25, and to have an unlimited supply of markers for my white board, kleenex, and hand sanitizer. I'd like to get a new bulb ($16) for my overhead projector without waiting 3 weeks.

If I had a class size that small, I could have parents come in more often. As it is, I don't have room. Right now, two of my classes have 32 kids and one has 34. If they give me any more kids, they'll have to sit at the teacher's desk.

And they will. Give me more kids. And they'll sit at the teacher's desk, and share table space with other kids. My administrators will ask for permission to hire more teachers, but they will be turned down, because there isn't enough money.

Smaller class sizes will never be funded, because it's not "efficient." Most school models are mandated, actually, by law to be modeled after business models. Because, you know, when you think about children, you think about products, outcome, and efficiency. Riiiiiighttt.

I care about your kid. Not just because your child is a human being and all human beings have worth, but because s/he will be a future citizen in the world in which we live, and I want him/her to be a happy and productive citizen. I want to help empower you, as well, because I know you also want what's best for your child.

For now, I have him or her for 90 minutes a day. Me and the teacher's union are not your enemy. We are trying to protect the profession of teaching, and we really want the best for your child, and we want to be your partner and to make the job of being a parent easier.

Next year is an election year.

Pay attention to the candidates.

Ignore their speeches; instead, pay attention to their works.

The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.

What legislation have they voted for? Against? That speaks volumes.

Thanks for letting me rant.

...

Inked, pricked, and marked.

(Edited, with photos from Pirate)

I did my 9-mile long slow run this morning and finally felt normal. I held about a 12:30 pace, slower on the black top but faster on the windy trail with deep sand. Still trying to figure that one out. Gosh, it was a gorgeous morning. I headed out at dawn, just me, a sticky bottle of Perpetuum, and my ipod. The perpetuum is by orders of my dentist. As I have revealed, I have very soft enamel, and the sucrose I've been sucking down for 4 months has wreaked havoc.

So, then I showered, had a small breakfast and coffee, and met Pirate at Star Tattoo.

Inked, pierced man in black

pricks me while I breathe lamaze

I'm M-dotted now.

Yes, I'm working getting pictures to post. I've clearly left the battery charger for the camera in Louisville, so I have to raid the 16-year-old's room and take his...and, find out that his windows are wide open, and so is the air conditioning vent. Time to nail some windows shut...

But back to the tattoo. Pirate took phone pictures, and afterwards, Sonny gave me a little goody bag with post care instructions, a plastic toy, a sticker, and a sucker.

Pirate squealed, "Ooo! Tattoo schwag!" and Sonny, the artist, smiled politely even as we attempted to explain what "schwag" was.

Sonny, as talented as he is, will never be accused of an over abundance of jocularity.

Perhaps tattooing someone who looks like a soccer mom is a necessary evil to be a true artiste.

("Soccer Mom' is my daughter's current declaration of my current look; I admit this was a bit disappointing since I was going for 'sleek and athletic')

What does it feel like. Hmmm. Imagine having a bad sunburn and a three-year old with sharp fingernails scratching it.

For about an hour.

I didn't cry, or anything, but I definitely felt my face get hot, which is something it does when I'm stressed.

Then it was off to Wal-Green's, where I bought Aquaphor ointment and antibacterial soap. While ringing up my purchases, the pharmacy tech glanced at me and gave a little gasp of excitement "Did you just get a new piece?"

"Pardon?"

"A new piece. A new tattoo. Did you just get a new one?" Then proceded to tell me breathlessly a very interesting story about all her tattoos and how she and her twin got matching 'peas and carrots' tattoos on their hips before her twin was deployed overseas. Then she showed it to me. I liked the story, and she was very sweet, although I'm not sure how the 14 people behind me in line liked it...but now it appears, at least, that I'm a member of a new club. PS: According to what I've read about tattoo etiquette, copying ain't cool.

For the next day or two I'm supposed to wash it with antibacterial soap, pat it dry, apply ointment, and then lay saran wrap over it. Note: After reading this article, I've decided not to do this. Instead, I'll be following the aftercare instructions here.

And NO SWIMMING until it peels, for something like 10 days.

So now there's another way to spot me, if you're ever in the southwest at a triathlon somewhere. I've got "Athena Diaries" on my bike and an M-dot with a flowing horse on my shoulder.

...

Tomorrow: an M-dot and a horse (maybe)

I've been lazy this week. Most of my energy has been spent whining to Pirate about my training plan, part of which I missed because it's a report card week and part of which I missed because I. Am. Lazy.

So at swim the other night I was whining, "What the hell is this $#it? Where's my recovery?"

and Pirate says, "It's an active recovery"

I'm guessing that's something like a dry heat. Or a wet cold.

Anyway, I've spent more time whining than actually working out.

Time's up, and party's over. Time to get back to work.

Next up: SOMA 70.3 Triathlon in Arizona. I did this one last year and LOVED it. Flat, fast, and fun. It'll be fun comparing my time to last year, since, you know, I like, trained and stuff this year.

Saturday's schedule:

6:30-ish - 10 mile run with hills

9:30-ish - Shower. Coffee. Maybe breakfast.

10:3-ish - Get inked in Albuquerque. I've drawn up my own design having to do with Kentucky and the M-dot, but I'm going to discuss it with the artiste' as well because, so far, he did not like my design. We'll see.

Pictures to follow...

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