A new chapter, another project.

3 months

I'm sitting here contemplating the juxtaposition of planning for a 50-mile run and a new situation in my life.  My daughter, who has been in an abusive marriage, is leaving the marriage and coming here from Dallas.  She'll be staying with us until she gets on her feet.

I mentioned my daughter once, briefly, a long time ago.  I mentioned how worried I was because she weighed 230 pounds.  She texted me on Sunday to let me know that she had weighed herself and now weighed 270 lbs.  She said that it was the first time she had weighed herself in a long time, and the shock of the number made her cry.  "I can't stop crying.  I'm a hippo, mom, how did I ever let it get this bad?"

As many probably know, there are a lot of ways that one can "let it get that bad," and they all converged on my only daughter.  She was raised by her father from age 12 to 19.  He is a simple man who doesn't waste time on high-fallutin' things like nutrition.  My daughter had gotten very big once before, around age 16, and so I had her come live with me for a year, since I'd always retained legal custody.  I didn't make her exercise, and I didn't control her eating.  It's just that we didn't have a lot of stuff around that was junk food.  We don't keep it in the house. 

Age 2

She was highly resistant to learning about nutrition.  She was not an easy teenager.  However, just living with us, that time in her teens, she lost 60 pounds in less than a year.  Then she went back to Dallas to live with her father.  

Age 3, with big
brother Sweetface

She has some sense.  She never got into drugs, and she hasn't had any children yet, so at age 23, she's one up on me already.  Her marriage right after high school was most likely based on the notion that, at 230 pounds, someone wanted to marry her, so she married, about three years ago.  It quickly deteriorated into an abusive marriage.  She tried once to move to another town, but the people she moved in with weren't incredibly reliable, and themselves became abusive, so she wound up going back to her husband to "try again".  

The stress, I would imagine, was not conducive to a healthy lifestyle.  My daughter told me some time back that the area in which they lived was not the kind of place where a woman walks alone, so she drove everywhere.  That didn't help with the weight either.

Age 11: An impromptu family portrait
taken in Dallas.

I watched, from a distance, to try to ascertain when she was serious about leaving him.  I had left an abusive marriage when I was 21.  I went home to my parents temporarily to get back on my feet, and so now, is she. 

It's jarring to realize that my only daughter, who is one inch shorter than me, weighs 120 lbs more than I do.  She texted me and asked me if I would walk with her to help her lose weight.  I texted her and told her that we were going to walk a lot when she got here.  I figure that's the safest way to go until she's lost about 70 lbs.  I told her to go to a running shoe store and get her gait analyzed for some well-cushioned road shoes, and if she couldn't afford a pair, to write down their suggestions.  

2009: Me at 170 lbs, herself at 230.

Here, of course, she will walk with me, just a short distance at first, but then eventually longer.  I have no illusions of turning her into an ultra runner.  I'm just trying to help her avoid diabetes.  In a few exchanges, I realize that she has no idea how to read food labels, so I'm investigating basic-level books on nutrition.

I plan to take pictures of her progress, but I don't know if I'll post them.  Perhaps after a lot of progress has been made.   

If anyone has suggestions for making this "project" easier, I welcome them.  

...

Notes from the Field.

I don't know that I've ever mentioned this before but I live in the suburbs, and I had an experience today I thought I'd share with my suburban peeps.

My (mostly) politically incorrect neighbors not withstanding, I enjoy the relative safety of the burbs. I run after dark without worry. I don't know most of my neighbors, but I do know that, probabalistically, they are much more likely to perpetuate violence within their own families than they are toward me. I commute 4 miles across the suburbs to work, against the flow of cars heading down into Albuquerque. I live in a little bubble of safety and security that Sweet Baboo has thoughtfully provided for me and in which I thrive, insulated from the wilds of the metropolitcan goings on.

The Burbs are where I grew up. The same with Sweet Baboo. I said as much when Mini Baboo recently began a school ancestry project and asked me, "Mom, where are our people from?"

"Our people are from the suburbs. As long as there have been suburbs, there have been our people."

I get excited about my occasional excusions into the city. Monday I asked several people about what time I shoudl leave to get to a certain location on time, and most of them sucked air through their teeth and talked about this thing called "Traffic".

Yesterday I headed OUT of the suburbs to a seminar and thought I'd share my experience.

So, if you didn't already know it I'll tell you--there are a lot, I mean a LOT of other people in the city who are apparently trying to drive somewhere at just the same time of the morning, and the appear to be pretty intent on getting there.

It's referred to as "traffic" and it is, on the whole, fairly unpleasant. I honestly don't see how people pull it off, day after day, without reaching for some sort of diversion to numb the whole suckitude. Even NPR can't stop the flood of thoughts and emotions that rush through my head; e.g.,

• Why are you just now trying to turn, from way over there? Didn't you plan your trip?
  
• Why is everyone driving so slowly - surely, there must be some sort of incident ahead? No? Then why is everyone driving so slowly?
  
• Hey, there, you can't just drive past a lone line of stopped cars and try to cut in line like that. No cuts!
  
• My goodness, I think that man was deliberately trying to keep that lady from getting into his lane.
  
• Is he eating and talking on the phone and driving his car? On the freeway?

So, this is my PSA for the month for you. You've been warned.

The more you know.

...

Baby's First Marathon

aka "Baby's first declaration of, 'I'm never going to do this again.'

Now, Mini-baboo was offered the chance to do this. He could do a half, or a full, or work as a volunteer. He chose the full, which carried the stipulation that he must stay with me throughout at least half of the marathon, and follow my instructions exactly. (Here we have some foreshadowing)

I released Mini-baboo at mile 12, worrying that I could not finish. I was in a lot of pain from the ole' ITB and didn't want him to worry about me. This was after programming his watch to chime an alarm every 10 minutes and giving him strict instructions, i.e.,
"Keep a steady pace that feels slower than what you're used to. Every 10 minutes, the watch will chime. I want you to stop and walk for one minute then. During that minute, I want you to drink about half of one of your little bottles-- 3-4 ounces. When you get to an aid station, I want you to eat 3-4 potato chips, and a gel (aid stations were 2-4 miles apart.)"

He then took off as fast as he could, headed down the path and out of sight, taking no gels with him and (as I found out later) ignoring everthing I told him because, after all, he is sixteen and HE knows EVERYTHING.

I found him around mile 19, sitting down on the path and complaining that his muscles were stiffening up.

"Well," I said as patiently as I could manage, "they won't loosen up with you sitting on your butt. Get up and walk it off, bo. Keep moving forward, even it's slowly." We walked together for a while; he couldn't manage much more than that.

I was getting my second wind - I'd had some terrible ITB pain between 15 and 19 but then it suddenly loosened up, and I ran ahead of him to the next aid station.

There, I laid out a care package for him: 2 advil, a cup of coca cola, some potato chips, and an order to consume all this and empty one of his bottles. The aid station guys were further more ordered that if he refused, they should slap him in the head, and to tell him I said so, and that I WOULD KNOW. Oh, yesss. I have my waysss. A mother knowsss.

A few miles later he came flying up on me again, and I asked him if the stuff at the aid station helped, and he said he wasn't sure (Oh, really?) and then after another mile or so asked if he could take off ahead of me. He flew off again and, I predicted, didn't eat or drink anything else. As a result, I finished about a quarter mile behind him, but finished, he did. It took us an appallingly long time to finish, and then afterward I walked out into a stock pond and stood in the icy water up to my thighs.

During this time Mini-baboo was demanding that if I went to the car, I should move it closer (it was about 500 feet away) so that he would not have to walk so far to it. He then declared, "I'm never doing that again. That was hard."

This was, BTW, and great course, pretty doable and very well supported. I had a lot of fun.

Later, I waited at the finish line for Sweet Baboo to come in from his first 50-mile ultra run EVAR and he has this very cool buckle that he got for finishing. You'll to read his blog, after he posts, to hear about his experience.

I don't think mini-baboo is disciplined enough to do an endurance event above a half marathon or Olympic distance without constant companionship. That's not to belittle him. It's just that he's young and impatient and not quite ready for it. Yet.

But he's happy, right now. He's tired but pretty content eating his pizza and watermelon slush. Tomorrow, I'll ask him how he feels. Sweet Baboo is awake, but fading fast. As for me, I'm going to finish my veggie lovers medium pizza with thin crust and my watermelon slush, and then I'll hit the valerian and the pillow.

...

Teachable moment #8.

Kid sits down in the front row. "Okay, everyone, take out your workbook"... I started out. Kid starts to look in his backpack, and then sits back in his chair, dejected. Then he looks at me.

"I am fu¢#ed," he said.

I wasn't sure I'd heard right. "Pardon me?"

"I'm fu¢#ed," he said again.

A slight gasp, and then quiet. Everything I am, in working with these kids - these kids who have been kicked out of other schools and classrooms, depends on how I handle moments like this.

"I assume that you've forgotten your workbook? "

"Yeah. That's why I'm fu¢#ed."

"You know, Mike," I started, "there are better ways to express to me that you are, apparently, in quite a pickle. They may not be quite as satisfying, but they won't piss-off your teachers or your parents or get you written up, either."

"Like what?" He seemed genuinely curious

You could say, "I'm eff-kayed," said the student next to him, helpfully.

"I'm fudged!" exclaimed another.

"I'm uck-fayed," said a third.

The classroom was a cacophony of suggestions. "I'm up crap creek without a paddle!" "I'm screwed!" "Life sucks" and of course, "Is there homework tonight?"

"Well, now, there you go. See, you learned something. Can I assume that I won't here you use that expression in front of me again? And you know I have to report this in your behavior log, right?"

"Yes. Sorry. I won't use it again."

See there, they can learn. Your tax dollars at work. No need to thank me, it's why I'm here.

...

A very special holiday piece of unsolicited advice.

dis·ap·point·ment - dɪsəˈpɔɪntmənt [dis-uh-point-muhnt] (noun)
1. the act or fact of disappointing: All of his efforts only led to the disappointment of his supporters.
2. the state or feeling of being disappointed: Her disappointment was very great when she didn't get the job.
3. a person or thing that disappoints: The play was a disappointment.
[Origin: 1605–15; disappoint + -ment]
—Synonyms 1. failure, defeat, frustration.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You may have some relatives. I'm talking about the ones that snub you, year after year. Holiday after holiday.

Every year, you hope against hope that they'll be more welcoming, more interested, and are consistently disappointed. This is especially so if you are the hopeful type and, year after year, hope that they want to do family things with you. Instead, they demonstrate to you yet again that they don't.

✗ They don't invite you to birthday parties or to dinner.

✗ They may or may not return your calls or your emails.

✗ And they won't tell you why.

They're very attached to their grudges and their perceived wrongs. They do not want to let go of them. That way, they'll always be right and you'll always be wrong (See how it works?)

Now chew on this: The fact that you're hopeful, and want their acceptance, and that you are willing to let bygones be bygones, means that you're better than they are.

But now it's your turn to let it go.

Trust me, it's not you: It's them. You're pretty awesome! The fact that they don't want to be with you is their problem, and their loss, and let's face it, why do you want people in your life that don't treat you with respect and admiration?
Ask yourself, honestly, if you weren't related to them, would you worry as much as you do about what they think?

So how about this: For 2008, make it your goal to cultivate the closeness of friends who you respect you and care about you and want your companionship. Drink in the warmth, the welcoming, and the caring from people who already know how awesome you are.

To heck with the relatives.

...

Cheater!

While on our way to LooUHville in August, Sweet Baboo studied hard the rules for his USAT officiating test. And some of the behaviors of other racers I thought were just annoying? They're deal-breakers, y'all!

After the Prairieman, I excitedly asked the Baboo if he got to hand out any penalties on the course and he calmly informed me that it's not about handing out pentalties, it's about making sure that everyone has a good and fair time.

Yeah. Whatever. So did you write any penalites?
Officiating cult mantra aside, I have started to notice the things that he talked about when I was asking him about rule, rules, rules.

Even more awkward, I've seen friends of mine break the rules. I recently saw friends of mine applying body glide to a family member when she came through an aid station, something that they did not offer to other racers on the course, and I've read race reports about people having family members hand them things on the course and seen people whose parents or friends walked parts of the course with them.

I figured they probably didn't know that they were doing something that, if an official saw them, would get them not penalized, but disqualified. The big D-Q. Why they might have done that? Well, the options are
1) They didn't read the rules (stupid), or

2) They read the rules, and decided they don't apply to them, (Jerks) or

3) They read the rules, and didn't understand them (understandable) or forgot them.

I like to go for option 3. You can't teach teenagers who's favorite classroom questions is, "Huh? How what again? What are we doing? I don't get it" without learning to be infinitely patient and assume the best, so here I am, and it's a teachable moment.

Here are some things that can get you penalized or disqualified, if someone sees you doing it. And, they don't have to give you a second chance. This isn't high school, folks. You were supposed to know the rules. All they have to do is see it, and write it down:

.
.
.

• Riding alongside your very bestest friend or sweetie, chatting away. (Dangerous and annoying). Drafting
  D
• Getting up on the pedals as that chick was passing you or right after she passed you, Mr. or Mrs. Thang, instead of dropping back out of the draft zone and waiting. Overtaken
  .
• Spitting out the top of your goo pack, or dropping anything (even a water bottle or jacket) anywhere other than outside an aid station and not picking it up. Littering
  .
• Having someone, like a friend or relative hand you things on the course. Outside help.
  .
• Having someone, like a friend or relative, do something for you at an aid station or or hold your special supplies for you, when they don't do it for anyone else. And, yes, that includes salt pills, body glide, or tampons. Outside help.
  .
• Swearing at another racer, a rude spectator, or an official. Unsportsmanlike behavior
  .
• Having anyone who is not a registered racer walk or run with you anywhere on the course or run with you through the finish chute. Outside help/Pacing.
  .
  Often the finish chute thing is overlooked, but you know what? It really screws it up for the woman/man finishing right behind you.
  
  Don't believe me? Watch IronmanLive sometime! Awwww, wasn't that sweet the way that guy, his fiancee, or their kids to run with him or her through the chute? But wait, see that guy running behind them? S/he had to actually stop running and wait to cross the finish line because of you, you inconsiderate idiot. At the very least, you ruined his/her finish line shot!
  .
  Sorry, but there it is.
  .
  Tell your families to stay out of the finish chute!
  
  .
• Wearing your ipod on the run. Wearing earphones.
  .
• Calling your husband or sister from the bike course to bitch about how hard it is (Are you kidding me? No. People I know have actually done this. I don't know the name of the rule it breaks, but I think it's actually a rule against using cell phones on the course. Maybe there's just an overall stupidity or whining rule)
  .
• Cranking the ac down to 50 degrees F the night before a race so that your spouse wakes up stiff and freezing (Okay, well, it's not a rule, but it oughtta be...)

So there it is. Commonly broken rules. If you're breaking them after this, then you'd decided to risk a penalty, and you've given up your right to be in a fair race, as far as I'm concerned, and you aren't a better athlete if you took unfair advantage or made it harder for others.

BTW, This picture (below) has absolutely nothing to do with triathlons, rules, or racing. It popped up in an image search of "regret", and I realized it was just too good not to share.

I include it without further comment. Enjoy.

LooAville pics. And some thoughts about DFL

I've read/heard comments here and there about the fact that I took longer than 17 hours to finish Ironman Louisville.

I've heard/read about how lucky I was that the cutoff was extended because of the change in the swim start. I've been asked about whether or not it "counts" as an official finish.

I'm not angry about it, or hurt. I've been thinking about it. I wanted to collect my thoughts into a coherent assemblage of utterances to explain what it means that I "almost didn't finish."

About what it means to be, most of the time, last or nearly last, and why it is

meaningless.

I like this T-shirt, not just for me. It sums up part of how I feel

...about my first Olympic distance, in which I was also DFL.

...about my first half iron, in which, I believe, I was nearly DFL.



I did this triathlon with a bunch of friends and, of course, Sweet Baboo. I was also lucky enough to have some in-house cheerleaders and of course, a lot of support and cheering going on in Blogland, which still humbles and amazes me.

(That's Sweet Baboo, Me, and my fabulous mother-in-law and her husband Gordon in the top photo, right, the day before the race, in Louisville. In second photo, is Me and Sweet Baboo, and Mary Sunshine, and Dying Water Buffalo)

Some of my Albuquerque friends are fast. CRAZY. Fast. There is a picture of all of us on a previous post below, entitled, "Run, part 2"

Did you know? Ironman started in 1978 as a wager between friends about which one was the most fit: a swimmer, a cyclist, and a runner. In 1982, because the Kona race had attracted so many participants, the first cutoff time was introduced, 18 1/2 hours. Ironman.com does not give a reason for this time having been chosen, such as lactic thresholds or research or such.

The following year, it was changed to 17 hours. No reason. It is what it is.They can't let it go on forever, right? I mean, the volunteers have to go home some time.

There are some smaller iron-distance races in the US that don't have this type of cutoff system.

But there it is.

I've discovered that each person who does a triathlon, whether it's a sprint or a long course, has a different demon facing them when they step or jump or run into the water.

For some, it's the voices in their head that say they aren't good enough,
fast enough,
strong enough...
they want to silence those voices.

For others, it's more tangible: they need a goal for exercising.

Some beat back the ghosts: failures, "errors of judgement", bad decisions, guilty pleas - whatever...
"Each step or mile is like a giant eraser" that cancels out those mistakes. John "The Penguin" Bingham said that.

Some just like doing something that most people find very hard to do.


every single amateur or pro, whether they are fast or slow, will head into the same river, lake, ocean, inland sea or pool, and face their demons.

and every one of them is nervous.

They may not look it, but each hopes they trained hard enough and that they'll meet whatever goals they have...when they face the river, lake, ocean, inland sea, or pool...and most feel that they are unique in that respect.

As for me, I'll tell you a secret: according to my training times, I should not have been able to finish any long course triathlon I've ever attempted.

And yet, well... here I am. Proof that stubbornness trumps speed in many cases.



And so it was, at Louisville, we all went into the same river, toward the same same sunrise, and swam the same distance.

Then we pedaled the same bike distance, on the same road, cursing the same hills. Laughed at the same weird guy dressed like a devil. Smiled at the same folks in LaGrange going crazy with cowbells and yelling. Couldn't wait to get off the bike.

Then we all ran the same 26.2 miles. Throughout the race, we all followed the same rules, and ran, or walked, and sweated (and sometimes vomited) our guts out... and then crossed the same finish line.

Yes, some of us did it faster. But we all did the same distance

and the heavier, slower ones? Probably expended more energy.

So, who is the better athlete? The ones for whom covering the distance is easy, or the ones for whom it is hard?

What does it mean to be a triathlete?

Because if all it means is fast, then I've greatly misunderstood the whole thing.

I thought it was about challenging myself, seeing how I could make my body go, go, go! when it really wanted to stop, stop, stop! I thought it was about the feeling of accomplishment, and the fun.

So, as I said, my friends are all faster than me....

• Ricky V, finished in 12:53.
• Miquel, "Sharkbait" finished just a hair over 13 hours.
• Mark, "Bones" finished about 13 minutes later.
• Mike, "Wiz" finished in a little over 14 hours.
• Mary Sunshine finished some time before Baboo.
• Dying Water Buffalo finished in 16:17.
  
  ~~~~
  
• Sweet Baboo finished in 15:35. And then he waited...and waited...and waited.

sigh.
and,
yes,
I
was
last.

My time was 17:19.

Pirate had the best thing to say about this:

"You know what they call the last person to cross the finish the line in an Ironman triathlon?"

"They call that person an Ironman."

(BTW, I HATE this picture. I thought my arms were higher up in the air than that. and I should have kept my hat on.
Is that why some of you guys shave your head? So you look good for the photos? It is, isn't it? )

So if you've ever DFL'd, repeat this to yourself:

YOU COVERED, OR WILL COVER, THE SAME DISTANCE AS THE FASTER ATHLETES. That doesn't make you lesser. It may even make you greater.

Besides, who's to say I might not have moved a little faster if the cutoff had been midnight? I've finished every single race I've ever started that had a cutoff, even when I wasn't sure that I would start or not.

So, if you are still wondering if you "should" try to do that race or not, the answer is, well, you should.

Refuse to give up. Refuse to listen to the person or persons who fill your head with worry, doubt, or fear, no matter how much you love them and respect them, unless they have an MD. This is your race, not theirs.

This advice is especially important if the fear-monger in your head is YOU.

It won't be that I won or lost a few races that stays with me. It will be that I tried even though I was utterly terrified. (Oh, yes I was! I avoided buying a very pretty Louisville Ironman Bike jersey the day before the race because I still wasn't sure if I'd finish it or not.)

I like a little fun competition now and then, don't get me wrong. But it has to be fun, not all-consuming. As amateur athletes, what else are we doing this for, if not fun?

I mean, why are you doing this, anyway? Is it to be the fastest? I've got news for you. There is always someone faster. And if there isn't now, you'll still be looking over your shoulder in case there is. Or, are you doing this to finish? Then it doesn't matter where your place is. Statistically speaking, those that are considered "experts" in any field in which expertise can be claimed are within the top 2%. Sometimes less. The other 98% will finish after them.

So, let it go, man. Sign up for that race.

Oh, you, yes you, know the one I'm talking about.

Hell, you've been staring at the race website on and off for weeks.

Quit worrying about whether you'll do it "well" and just do it. If you don't meet your goal, well, you'll learn something, and you'll meet it another time.

...

On carbs and kids.

For some reason I'm still ill in the mornings but better in the afternoon. And no, it's not THAT. This stinks, because it's really hot in the afternoon and I'd rather work out in the mornings.

In keeping with our new focus on NOT BONKING, EVAR, BECAUSE BONKING SUCKS, Sweet Baboo purchased for each of us a drink called "Carbo pro 1200" It's a bottled drink with 1200 calories in it. I'm expecting it to be sweet enough to crystallize my blood, but it might be okay, because we've used the powdered carb stuff and it's largely tasteless.

Sticky, as my handlebars can attest, but tasteless.

I'll be testing it this weekend at the Tri-raider sprint to see if it's something I want to use at IM Louisville. At 1200 calories and $14 per, I'll be chaining it to myself to make sure it doesn't bounced off before I get to drink it. I'll let you know how it works out.

16-year-old Mini-baboo will be present Sunday, but not racing, as we had not anticipated him being with us this weekend. It's just as well, because, (ahem) here's something I forgot to share earlier, even though it's a teachable moment for the young and arrogant, and a shining example of the a triumph of maturity and pacing over youth:

If you, the cross country runner and JV swim team member, lay around on your a$$ playing video games for several months in the off season despite warnings from your old, decrepit 42-year-old mother who doesn't know anything, there's every possibility that she will beat you in the Gallup Sprint Tri.

Yes, you read that right.

By over three minutes.

...

Long Run Sundays

Yesterday I returned to my Sunday long runs at the church of the bosque trail. On the dockett: 16 miles. I hadn't run that far since, like, JANUARY.

I didn't think it would be easy. I didn't think it would be hard. I didn't know what to think, especially since my debacle at Show Low, where 13 miles, um, over 4 hours...and was more of a labored, painful TRUDGE than a run...

I'm still working on my nutrition, et cetera. So I loaded up my hydration pack with about 55 ounces of prepared Nuun, 45 which I consumed.

Then I got the brilliant idea of putting 8 ounces of Apple-cinnamon hammer gel, about 6 which I consumed (more on that in a moment) into a water bottle. Prior to my run, I drank half a 450-calorie bottle of HEED. About three hours before the run, I ate two servings of oatmeal and a fruit cup.

To make short work of this post, I'll fast foward to the lessons learned.

1. Ohhhhhhh, THAT'S why I never ran that particular section of trail. It's full of soft sandy spots. motherf.........

2. If you try to use a 8-ounce water bottle as a gel flask, you have to do something to the spout, because it's not meant to let something as viscous as gel go through it. After squeezing in vain, I finally unscrewed the lid and gulped it down every couple of miles.
Which brings me to number 3...

3. No matter how much you like a particular flavor of gel, if you gulp it down for three hours, you'll learn to hate it.

Hate. It.

4. There's even more large piles of horse manure on dirt trails than there is on the paved trail. How come dog owners have to scoop, but horse owners can leave large presents for the rest of us to trip over willy-nilly? It's just as gross; it's just a smelly, and it's just as unlikely to wash awake in the rain we don't often get in the desert.

Anyway, I did 15.2 miles, in about 3:22. I started out at 5:55 am, having learned a lesson from Pirate and her "running on the sun" experience recently ☀ It was gorgeous on the bosque pre-dawn. Quiet, peaceful, in the low sixties. Bunnies ran amok. It was in the upper eighties when I finished.

Today I rest from all things running and triathlon-like. My calf and a lot of my left leg is stiff from Saturday's race.

FYI: Sweet Baboo has fallen ill from some mysterious malady, and is home while I wait on him, feed him, and soothe his fevered brow. SHHHHHHHHHH. He's sleeping. He's such an angel when he sleeps...

By the way, any of you who are happy with fiddling with HTML, I found a place to get the codes to put symbols ☝ in your text. Go here: http://www.bigbaer.com/reference/character_entity_reference.htm

℘

Bad thoughts.

I may actually finally finish an entire week of training plan without missing a workout. This is HUGE, and it will be the second time I've EVER done this, because I'm lazy.

No, that's not right. I wouldn't call someone else who pedals up hills in a 70.3 triathlon crying and swearing lazy. So, I won't call myself that.

To be correct, I get bored. I will often stop a workout because I'm so bored.

Anyhow.

I wanted to write about how some days I feel slow, and some days I feel fast.

Today was one of the former. Last night was one of the latter.


Tonight I did brick/interval workouts with hill repeats by the Jimmy with the gang. I never feel so impotent as when running hills. Pirate and Sweet Baboo and the others all sprint ahead of me, giggling and laughing and carrying on conversations that I'm too slow to hear...
and so I trudge along behind them at the speed of smell, showing up huffing and puffing long after they've finished and are doing their post sprint stretches. Bastards.


Oh, yes. I felt very slow tonight. Glacially slow.


But last night, thought, I felt fast. Pirate and I seem to have settled on a nice Tuesday routine, one that I enjoy: Tuesday night swim workouts at the nearly childless gym. I do pyramids. I ♥ swim pyramids.

So, ANYway, I felt like my arm turnover was faster. I felt faster. Of course, I wasn't wearing a watch; why wear a watch when you can be deluded as to how fast you are? I'm just sayin'. It also probably helps that I've actually BEEN swimming. I used to skip swim workouts, like maybe I'd get in the pool twice a month. Now I'm doing it two -three times a week.

Whatever the reason, I felt fast.

So when I have nights like tonight, when I feel apallingly slow, and I hang onto nights like last night, in which I felt fast.

It gets me through the bad times, when the evil voices in my head ask me just who the hell I think I'm kidding? Then I remember the times I've felt blazing fast.
If you're looking for a motivator, do this. Write them down if you have to. They make the bad times easier.

So, I'll put up my feet, relax, and feel good about myself. Bad thoughts and voices at bay, check.
...

Tires, Cycling, and the southwest.

Yesterday's flat was most likely caused by something called a "puncture vine" seed, also known as "Mexican sand bur." It's a noxious week that grows very well all over the place.

These pretty little vines put out little yellow flowers, and then they produce a small fruit. The fruit dries and produces four seeds known around here as "goatheads".

Goatheads have long, stiff thorns heading out in 2 directions, and they lay in a way so that no matter which ways it lands, there's one thorn sticking up. They're about 1/4 inch long. Seeds like this spread by getting caught in the fur of animals and being carried that way. They also blow around pretty well.

They are EVERYWHERE. I walked through the desert in a pair of lower-end sandals the other day, about 700 meters, and by the time I was done the entire bottom of each sandal was completely crusted with them. They covered the entire bottom.

Goatheads are otherwise known as "MOTHERF&$%R!" by the people dumb enough to walk around barefoot, or those who've flatted out for the second or third time when they've ignored the advice of the locals.

You see, the really great thing about living in Albuquerque is that is rarely rains here, so there's lots and lots of time to spend outdoors. We're a mile above sea level, which is good for training, and the humidity is fairly low, usually less than 20% but almost always less than 25%.

Last summer we had an unusual rainy season, and on some of the days the humidity was a whopping 50%. Boy, did we whine! We (meaning denizens of the Burque) walked around saying in our whiniest voices, "Oh, my gosh, it's just so HOT and so STICKY. Oh, my gosh, when will this end?" But anyway, I'm rambling.

Even the insane wind is not al that bad. It's good for training.

The bad thing about Albuquerque is the occasional sand storms and, of course, goatheads.

So we occasionally get people who are new to the area, people who like to run or do triathlon, and we remind them of three things:

1) Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate- this IS the desert!

2) you'll need about 500 spf sunscreen, and

3) you'll need some super thorn-resistant setup on your bike.

This usually involves a type of tire with Kevlar in it (Specialized Armadillos or Bontrager Hardcase), sometimes a thorn-proof liner, and some sort of sealant like Stans, that seals punctures and allows you to air up the tire again if it goes flat.

With this setup I've never gotten a flat.

When I bought my new bike, I was talked into getting something called Gatorskins. POP! PSSSSSSSSSSSS, a flat. As well, I didn't have any sealant in them. I did some searching, and read some cycling forums and there's a general consensus that Gatorskins may, indeed, be absolute crap.
So I will endeavor this week to replace the Gatorskins with some decent Kevlar tires.

Anyway, if you ever decide to do a race here, keep this post in mind. You may think you've got evil tire-puncturing things where you live? Well, maybe you do. They grow wild here.

You've been warned!

...

For Saturday, a new plan and a new bike.

My hydration/nutrition plan (you should always have a plan)

GOAL: Finish the Deuceman 70.3 triathlon in 7:30:00

Challenges: altitude of 6200 feet, cool and dry/arid climate.

Breakfast (about 3:30 or so) oatmeal, fruit cup, half sandwich (w/protein), soy latte

• Pre-race (two hours) water


• Pre-race (one hour) full serving of HEED, sipped


• Pre-swim (15 minutes) one GU w/caffein

T1: one GU, 2 enduralytes

56-mile bike: loaded in my bento box: Cliff BLOCKS (2 packages), enduralytes, inhaler

• 1st half: 2 bottles of HEED, 2 GU's, 1 package of BLOKS
• 2nd half: 2 bottles of water, 2 GU's, 4 enduralytes, 1 package of BLOKS

13.1 mile run: loaded in my "race-ready" shorts, 6 paks of GU, enduralytes (just in case), inhaler

• Each mile, 2-3 swallows of water.
• Every other mile, 1 GU

POST RACE: Recoverite (2 servings), sunflower seeds, lots of water, advil.

That should just about cover it.

My new bike arrived today! I took beauty pictures, but can't find the cord to upload the stupid things. For people like me, they should make the cord permanantly attacked to the camera. So you'll have to see a stock photo. It's a Kestrel airfoil pro with an Ultegra setup.

You have to imagine it with HED3's and a flatwing setup on it:

Introducing...:

My as-of-yet unnamed racing bike.

debuting at the 2007 Deuceman on Saturday.

Rock on.

...

An experiement in trying to avoid the Bonk.

I've accepted that sports nutrition is very individual. You have folks like Dean Karnazes, who are just freaks and can actually eat a pizza while running an utra. Then you have folks that have very delicate stomachs that clamp down if there is anything solid put in them.

I'm somewhere in the middle, and this morning I decided to experiment with the revelation that I burn through carbs like a hummingbird. (Why I have such a big butt, given this fact, is a mystery to me, but it may have something to with that fact that I eat a lot of fat. A LOT. My mom also had a big butt. The gift that keeps on giving: My mother's big butt. )

The Jimmy ordered a 9-mile run. I prepared 4 small bottles of Perpetuum with an added scoop of Cytocarb, giving each bottle w 200 calories, which I planned to take in sips, averaging a bottle about every 2 miles.

I digress for a moment to say that you can't, you won't know how fabulous it is to run in Albuquerque in the late spring and summer. No matter how warm days get, mornings are in the 50's or 60's, with about 20% humidity (or less). There is usually a cold breeze blowing from the north. It's awesome.

I ran along the west side Bosque trail from Alameda today, as the Jimmy had requested a trail run. This run is mostly packed dirt with some deep soft sand closer to Alameda. So much deep silty sand that, on the way back, I circled to avoid it. I hate running in deep sand; it's like one of those bad dreams where you're trying to run fast but you can't.

The last time I did a long run was before the annual Spring Triathlon Blitz (3 sprints in April and 2 sprints and an Oly in May.)

Results:

• On April 22 I ran 10.46 miles in 2:22:03 with a pace of 13:34 minutes/mile.
  
• Today, I ran 9.28 miles in 1:57:17, for an average pace of 12:38 minutes/mile.

That difference is attributable at least in part to the Torture that the Jimmy bestows on us every Wednesday. My average heart rate was a couple beats higher today (157 v. 152) but I felt about the same.

.

Each of my knees aches in the same spot, a little more pronounced in my left knee. I've noticed some tightening in my quads the last couple of days, I'm going to see if stretching and anti-inflammatories will help. The last time my knees hurt like this was when I first started running, so it just may be them getting used to the faster pace.

.

On the first half of the run, I started feeling sloshy and full, so I backed off on drinking near the halfway point. After about mile 6 or so I slowed down and felt super tired. I used to think that "this is what happens when you run long distances" However, now I think this means I'm out of fuel, so I took a couple mouthfuls from my bottle. I was able to speed up, but the sloshy feeling, along with a stitch in my side, came back.

.

Since I'm not much of a sweater, and it was cool out, I think this means I should have a more concentrated source of calories, like gels or maybe even bloks or sharkies, along with bottle of water or, if it's really hot, bottle of nuun.

I was gratified to find that each drop in pace was immediately followed by a drop in heart rate. My heart's getting pretty good at dropping quickly when I stop moving.

Conclusion:

1. A more concentrated source of carbs is needed. I'll try GU's because they're worked well for me before, and include electrolytes.

2. I am, finally, getting faster, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Hopefully I won't start having "knee trouble" as a result.

3. "Gold Digger" is an awesome running song. Not very PC, but a great running song.

...

Twelve Seconds!

Today and for the next month or so, I shall agonize and obsess over TWELVE SECONDS.

Today I did the Jay Benson Sprint Triathlon. Last year I did it in 1:35:03, and was fifth place in the Athena Masters. I only know my overall time this year until the splits are posted, because I haven't worked out how to use my Garmin yet...damn thing...

After spending the morning hanging out with Pirate, et al., and following her and others to bathroom many, many times, I started the run way in the back. This was a mee-stake. There were all manner of walkers and joggers back there in this larger race, and I was trapped.

How many seconds did being stuck in the back cost me?

I knew that ShyTri Girl was in this one, and I was getting winded trying to catch up to her because she's really improved her run. There's no reason in particular to beat ShyTri Girl except that our pace is simliar, and so it's an indicator of my training. On the run, I was especially looking forward to the aid station and getting a gulp along with my second wind. I was about a quarter mile or so behind her, and started closing the gap, and then I got to the aid station. Which was OUT OF WATER. dammit dammit dammit! I looked ahead and noticed ShyTri Girl sipping her bottled water, which she was carrying. Gaaaaaa!
How many seconds did that cost me?!? Thirsty and winded, I slowed down and after noticing that my Garmin wasn't ON, I came into T1, about 30 or so seconds after her. Then it was onto the bike. Last year's run 33:48, pace 11:16min/mile. This year's run: 32:56, pace 10:56/mile

How many seconds did fiddling with my Garmin cost me?? Ooo, I've noticed I'm quite the mosy-er in T1 and in T2. Is that where some of the lost twelve seconds came from?
I felt like I might be closing the gap but I think every time she saw me on one of the out-and-backs on the course, she started hammering. As I came into T2, the person in front of me slowed wayyyyy down, and it was awkward to try to go around her so I just rode the brakes and slowly rolled into T2, then slipped off shoes, socks, and grabbed goggles. Then I remembered to take off my garmin. Last year's bike: Bike 45:47, avg. 16.3 mph - This year's bike, 45:13, avg. 16.5 mph

How many seconds did taking off my shoes and socks cost me?

How many seconds did taking off my Garmin cost me?

I hit the pool and swam my guts out. I used one of the techniques the Jimmy taught me last week for passing people, and made pretty good time. As I exited the pool, I ran across the mat and a volunteer started pulling my chip. And that's when I saw her. She was standing with another volunteer, getting her chip pulled. ShyTri Girl had beat me. By twelve seconds.
TWELVE! SECONDS! AUGGGHHHH!
I tapped her on the shoulder and said, "hey, you beat me!" and we high-fived. She was tired and happy. My last year's swim time was 11:19, this year's swim time, 10:55

Now, getting beat by a few minutes makes you think about your training. You start doing one-legged and one armed drills. You start running and cycling hills.

Getting beat by a twelve seconds, however, makes you obsessively second guess yourself. Should I be running faster in transition? Making use of flying mounts and dismounts? Should I forgo socks, and risk thigh pinching on the bike to wear a swimsuit through the whole thing like Pirate does? And the technology. Do I really need to f*&K around with it as much as I do? Should I rubberband my shoes to my pedals? Should I wear my goggles around my neck through the whole thing? Is nudity allowed and how much time would it save???

That's what I've come to: deciding what comforts I'm willing to sacrifice to shave off seconds.
How pathetic is this? Is there anyone more demented and pathetic than I at this moment, perseverating over TWELVE SECONDS?

The good news is, I did beat my time last year, by about three minutes. And since ShyTry Girl is under 40, I was first master's Athena. Other good news:
Sweet Baboo, Masters Clydesdales, 1st place.
Mini baboo, 16-17 age group, 2nd place.

as for ShyTri Girl ,
well,
let me just say in all good fun...and the spirit of friendship, sportsmanship, and true sisterhood...



Added later: pictures by Amy! (See above)

Wrapping it up. Last year's times v. This year's times:
------Total ----Run---RunPace--- T1---Bike---Mph----t2-----Swim
2006 1:35:03--33:48--11:16-----1:59--45:47--16.3----2:13---11:19
2007 1:32:58--32:46--10:56-----1:57--45:13--16.5----2:09---10:55

...

Tangental rewards

You're always reading about all the benefits of exercise and fitness...but there are those moments that defy any attempts to predict them.

So this morning I was doing my weekly "duty". For those of you not in the know, many teachers have to do "duty" which usually involves being posted at some spot at scheduled intervals, before and/or after school, keeping and eye on kids arriving/leaving/lunching, etc.

So as I said this morning I was strolling down the hallway and I heard one of the exterior doors open, and turned just in time to see a pair of legs about to disappear up the stairs. Kids are not allowed in the hallways before the bell; we have too much trouble with vandalism, fights, and what have you...so I said to the legs, STOP!

and they stopped.

I need you to come back down here.

the legs jiggled. Flexed.

Kid, do NOT make me chase you. I will chase you down and I will catch you.

and then the kid bolted.

oh, no you din't!

As it turns out, it just so happened that on THIS particular morning, I was in a mood to get jiggy. On THIS particular morning I was wearing very comfortable shoes, and a skort, and I'd spent the last few weeks with the Jimmy assigning me speed work and all manner of cruel and inhumane exercises, whose names I've forgotten...

In any case, I, the GeekGirl, 42 years old, took off after this 13-year-old with the intent to chase him down.

I took the stairs three at a time and tore down the main hallway of the building after this kid, running at full speed while students and a startled assistant principal jumped out of the way...I finally caught up with him in a stairwell, where he stopped abuptly, turned, and said, "okay, let's go."

I am NOT making this up.

He walked with me to the office where, still breathing heavily, I explained what happened to the principal's secretary. Both she and another teacher in the office laughed like hell at the kid and said, "oh, you don't run from Mrs. GeekGirl. She'll catch you."

and I will.

Punk.

...

...and the winner is...

Here it is, the item that may possibly just make my life a wee bit simpler. I purchased it from Epay. I can't wait until it gets here!

The idea behind this is similar to when you page the handset of your cordless phone. Not that I know what that's like. I'm just sayin'. Anyhoo, you attach these tags to things one might lose often, say, keys. Then you use the remote to locate it.

It comes with eight receivers. I'm going to attach one to my cell phone. Yeah, I know. I should be able to call it, right? The problem is that sometimes it shuts itself off if the battery gets low, and then I can't do that. I just have to search. UGH!

Don't get all up in my face about how I'm going to lose the remote. I am NOT going to lose the remote. I shall put it with the other remotes on Sweet Baboo's side of the bed - with the other sacred remotes of which I Am Not Allowed To Touch. Then it will be safe.

Or, I could take advantage of the fact that the base comes with a magnetic mounting bracket that attaches to metal surface, and attach it to something. Like my refrigerator.

...

The course maps are up!

Thanks to SkiRough for this!

Bike and Swim: http://www.ironman.com/assets/files/races/louisville/maps/2007/swim.pdf

Run Map: http://www.ironman.com/assets/files/races/louisville/maps/2007/run.pdf

Now, in other news, I have found a new use for triathlon skinsuits.

I loved my TYR skinsuit even before this because, as Tim discovered and I preciously posted, I am a manly girl, but the skinsuit still fits.

However, today I found out it's perfect for a dunk tank.

It was all for a good cause. And here's a tip from your favorite GeekGirl: have them fill it with super warm water. Then you're making money for charity AND having a hot tub party.

I am now the coolest teach EVAR because I'm the only teacher who did the dunk tank for carnival day. I followed the school principal and assistant principal, and the kids wound them up and pitched 'em in.

Then, um, I found out all the girls' bathrooms were locked in the school. Uh, hello? Hello? I put on clothes over the skinsuit, and I'm pleased to share with you that after the initial soaking through I was dry in less than 90 minutes.


...

A new evil in my life.

Okay, so I know that many bloggers have given you their take on the Garmin 305 wonder, but I thought I'd give you the opinion of some who is 1) slothful and 2) dishonest and 3) given to self delusion and rationalizations.

Today I took out the Garmin 305, hereforafter known on my blog as the reoccuring character, Evil Garmin Genie. Me and the Evil went for a long run, and here's how it went.

If you're like me, slothful, dishonest, and addicted to rationalizations, then you don't want, you need an Evil Garmin Genie, especially if and when you have ever subscribed to any of the following delusions/misconceptions/rationalization, as I have:

• I'm not really that slow; they just marked the miles incorrectly.
  
• I'll make it up on the downhills.
  
• I'm not really that slow; it's just the wind/slight uphill that's making it seem that way.
  
• If I hadn't gone back to pick up that lipstick/cell phone/gel that I dropped on the path, my average pace would have been better.
  
• Gee, I'd love to do trail running, but I can't, because there's no mile markers.
  
• I'll just switch off my timer while I go pee, because it shouldn't count against my pace, since I'm not really running...

So, yes, shut UP, I lie to myself. OFTEN.

Moreover, I round up and round down (whichever makes me look better) so that I can continue to do so. Then I enter my lies into whatever log I'm keeping that month, or add it to the running total in my head, which is suspect, and the lie continues.

But no more. Evil Garmin Genie is brutally honest. I must say, I respect any entity that is honest, whether it's Sweet Baboo, the Jimmy, or Evil Garmin Genie.

During setup, I set the main window to show me four things: my heart rate, which I was trying to keep at 155 or under; total elapsed time, my current pace (in miles per minute), and elapsed time for the current lap.

Through it all, Evil Garmin Genie made sure I was keepin' it real

E.g., Me: "wow, I feel great! I'm flyin'!"

Evil Garmin Genie: CURENT PACE 14.2 min/mi

The next cool thing about Evil Garmin is that I can go ANYWHERE. I mean, ANYWHERE. I'm no longer a slave to routes I can find in Google Earth or the route finder on BeginnerTriathlete.

As in, "hey, I wonder where THAT path goes?" It it counts into my distance, and I don't have to remember it later on to try to retrace my route, because Evil Garmin takes it all into account into my distance. It not only makes up for my inherant dishonesty, but my forgetfulness, as well.

Finally, there's no "rounding" because as soon as I pop Evil Garmin into it's evil cradle, it calls up the software (it came with it and I installed it) and uploads it before I have a chance to try to stop it or try to monkey around with it to make me look better/sleeker/faster, etc. It uploaded everything and logged it: my time, course profile, elevation, map of where I went, my pace, everything.

So, it's the end of an era. The end of my charming self-deluding bullshit. I've been found accountable, and I've done it to myself.

Thank you, Evil Garmin Genie.

...

Swim workout with the Jimmy.

Yesterday I had my first swim training session with the Jimmy, which is what I'm going to call him now in honor of my favorite TV show of all time. Not that the Jimmy talks about himself in the third person, or anything. He's just unfortunately enough to be named Jimmy and have a new client who likes to bestow nicknames.

the Jimmy had me swim up and back in the lane and then showed me some drills. As it turns out, like in running, I've got very good form but no power. This, of course, being the result of a very casual approach to training, the, "Oh, I'm having so much fun now; I'd rather not sweat or get a cramp" type of training. As I have previously mentioned, I hate the feeling of sweat rolling down any part of me. But, no more. I want to be fast. I've already tried a headsweats, and a baby washcloth in my cleavage. They've helped the icky sweat feeling a LOT.

As for swimming, I'm just weak. Like I lot of women who don't weighlift or play ball sports, I have a week upper body. Some of the drills he gave me probably have names, but I don't remember them. They made pant. They made me nearly choke on water when I wasn't able to breath as often as I wanted to.

the Jimmy filmed me, but I haven't been able to see the film, as the battery died at the end of the session.

I did some one-armed swims, in which I swam down the lane with only one arm, switched arms and came back, and tried not to drown. I also did one where I did a normal stroke but as my arm extended down, I pushed back hard enough to make a splash as it came out behind me. I did some drills where I reached down really far before pushing out really hard behind me. I did drills where I swam five strokes before breathing instead of three, tried to lower the number of strokes down the lane by "gliding" on each stroke, and one where I dragged my finger tips through the water as I reached ahead.

During the entire session, as I'd forgotten my swim cap, my hair flipped in my face and interfered with my breathing and I inhaled water. My goggles fogged constantly. Oh, there's just no end to the things I can whine about and use as an excuse to stop for a moment.

On Wednesdays, the Jimmy usually has my warm up and then do some interval 800's around the track. Next Wednesday I'll start bringing my bike to do bricks. My doc, who is a marathoner, is putting me on Singulair along with what I've already been taking: Advair and Flonase. Hopefully this will put me on a less whiny, complainy path.

Oh, and the new Garmins have arrived! Now I get to spend the weekend playing with new technology.

...

Calling in the big guns.

First off, Sweet Baboo is in Phoenix, where he'll be doing Ironman Arizona tomorrow (You can track his bib number, 1184, here). Several people have asked me if I'm going. I am not. Teachers are only given 2 personal days off (well, not counting summer) and also, I was going schedule to be chaperoning a group of science students to the state fair in Socorro.

But in any case, usually Sweet Baboo is the one who, at a reasonable hour, flips off the light and turns the fan on high, leaving me in darkness with the realization that it must be bedtime. As a result, I get enough sleep. I know it's time to go to sleep and the white noise from the fan keeps me there.

Since he's not here, I don't go to bed on time and I don't stay asleep and I'm BOORED that is why, at 4 am on a Saturday morning, I am wide awake, and haven't made it to sleep before 11 pm for three nights running.

Secondly, I've decided to get a coach.



No, not that kind of coach.



Yes, that kind of coach.


Now that I've satisfied my answer to the question, "Can I finish a triathlon?" and have successfully finished over 20 sprints, 2 Olympics, and 2 half-irons, the question becomes,

"Can I finish it before everyone packs up and leaves?"

I would like to hastily add that I still. know. everything. but I realize by now that despite the fact that 1) Sweet Baboo reads voraciously and 2) Barnes and Nobel should honor us with a catered meal each and every fiscal quarter, that just there comes a time when you say, maybe someone outside my head knows what's good for me, too. So I'm getting a coach. I chose the Jimster because about half dozen people in my area have gone on and on and on about him, including Pirate, who told me that he listens for, like, EVAR.

This Thursday will be my full initial fitness assessment. Since I can have him watch my run at the track workouts, and was just assessed and fitted for my bike at Colorado Multisport, I'm going to have him assess my swim form for the initial assessment.

I've done two trackworkouts with the Jimster that he does on Wednesdays with the people he coaches, including Pirate, at the 400m track on Academy. The first one, he had me do two laps "easy," to warm up, then a couple of 800 repeats. He did this timing me. The funny part was when he said things like,
"Okay, do this at about a 10K pace"
or,
"Okay, do this about your half marathon pace"

Ha. I have three speeds: fast shuffle, slow shuffle, and walk.

And unlike some people out there, when I say "I'm slow" (Most triathletes I know,) I mean it. I'm not lamenting about how "Oh, gee, golly, I wish I could do a 6 minute mile." I'm lamenting on how I'm nearly always at or near the back of every triathlon run I've ever done. I make some of it back on the bike, but let's face it, that only works on reverse tri's.

Then, we all lined up and did some stretches and sideways running drills, which kicked my ass. I mean, everyone else floated sideways while I awkwardly stumbled sideways, and then when I arrived where everyone else had been for quite a while, their heart rates having alreedy dropped 20 points, I was gasping for air and practically prostrate and then the Jimster would immediately say, "GO!" and everyone would take off again.
We finished off with some ab work.

Muscles that I don't usually use have announced they would like to have a word with me. NOW.

After a brief assessment, the Jimster concluded that my first goal will be a 10:00 mile. I must confess that, secretly, I was disappointed at first; I had this fantasy that he would slap his hand to his forehead and say something like, "HOLY COW! You're the most natural runner I've ever seen! With work, I think we can get you down to a 6-minute mile in no time!"

But, um, when I asked if maybe he thought I could get down toward nine, he put a hand on my shoulder and said, as gently as I might have, to a struggling student who wants to raise their grade from a D to an A in 3 weeks, "Well, now, let's be realistic."

In any case, I feel that's doable, since I've done a 10:30 mile in a 5K before. Right now, though, my heart rate shoots up to around 170 at that pace.
Little steps.

At the second track workout, he had me do some intervals. This track is open to the public, and there were a group of young kids there learning to be race-walkers. So, yup, you guessed it - while RUNNING, I had my ass kicked by a neophyte RACEWALKER, who I judged to be about 14. Really. I know I say that everyone younger than me is 14, but I really think he was. Maybe even 12. Not that it was a race. Were just working out. But he beat me. Dammit.

I'll write more when I do my fitness assessment.

I think I'll go buy a Garmin forerunner today. I'm tired of Nancy having cooler stuff than me, and I need a reason for Nytro to shoot off some envious sarcasm in my direction. Plus, they're cool and do graphs and lots of stuff. I got a new triathlon bag, too, which I'll write about when I have a chance to try it out.

..