Agghhh!!!!

I've decided to put some filters in my email. Some people need to be shot, by the way. If I ever meet a professional spammer I'm going to key his/her car. Or think about it really hard.

Come to think of it, if I ever meet a professional spammer I'll probably just give them a realllllly diry look.

SO, henceforth, if you send me any emails, they won't get through if the subject line contains the following words/phrases:

Dearly Beloved

Her Pleasure Will Be Endless

Lottery

Unclaimed Funds

Bank Account Authorization Information

Endless Happiness

Endless Joy

Online Degree

Viagra

Urgent Greetings

Honorable One

high-quality prescriptions

She'll be Screaming

Cialis

Call My Secretary Immediately

Blowout

All Night Long

If you send me any of these emails, I won't get them. I'm just lettin' you know.

...

IM Training thoughts, part 1

Saturday I did a quick ride with lots of hills.

Yesterday I did a sprint triathlon.

Today I got up at 4 am, ate some oatmeal and a pb sandwich;

then I ran 16 miles, and swam 3000 meters.

then I had lunch.

and it occurs to me...

sometimes

there

just

isn't

enough

food

or

places

to

lie

down.

...

Hold onto your pants, Again.

I've included some sound effects today. You may need to click the play button twice if it doesn't play the first time.

Imagine, if you will, running on hot pavement in the desert in July with hearing several of these screaming in your ear:

Annoying, huh? Has your significant other screamed, "What the hell is that noise?" yet?

It's actually shriller and more annoying in person. Yay!

Today was the annual "Bottomless Triathlon" near Roswell, NM. It's a teeny weeny sprint (400m/14K/4K) that is suprisingly hard work, given that it's in the upper nineties here in the desert. Not all that surprising. Just unwelcome.

No, we weren't bottomless. And, yes, that Roswell. And, OH, it was the 60th anniversary of the alien spaceship crashlanding this weekend and BOY, there's nothin better than freaks on the weekend!

Here's an itinerary from the local UFO museum, including the times of symposiums and lectures, about alien abductions, sightings, and the like. (Lime green, by the way, is the preferred color if one is to feel at home during the annual Roswell Experience. )

ANYWAY, here's last year's race report on this triathlon... This year, several comments:

1. Despite advertising a free pasta meal , they didn't. I mean, can they do that? I give you exhibit A, a screen shot from the race website -->

Surely, someone out there in blogger land can sue on my behalf. Taking away a girl's food. It AIN'T RIGHT!

2. Luckily, just like last year, the director decided to have us go off at 8:30 (young men) and 8:45 (everyone else, including "athenas and the women") Because if you're expecting a high of 100 degrees, you want to start as late as possible.

3. The lake was as salty as I remembered, but oh, so clear. I swam my guts out, and then decided I would strip my wetsuit before T1. I had decided to go sockless, and my feet to be able to dry off during the run. Swim time: 11:13, just a bit slower than last year.

4. The bike was much bumpier than I remembered it. And kinda hilly. But it was short. at just under 9 mile in length, my time was 0:33:47, almost 3 minutes faster than last year, including my T1 time.

5. The run was just as hot as I remembered, with heat radiating off the pavement and insects screaming so loudly that I was disoriented. I'm talking the kinda hot where it feels like someone is aiming an infrared heater on your FACE. The 1.25 mile (2K) run to the turnouround point seems 8 miles long. Everyone running toward you looks kind of pained, desperate, shiny and wet. But, ooo, there was ice water at the 2 aid stations on the run. 2 aid stations. You hit aid stations a total of 3 times, and boy, cold water never felt so good...my run time was 30:59, a little over a minute faster than last year, and included my T2 time.

I was trying to stay ahead of ShyTriGirl. Ever try to stay ahead of a particular person? It's exhausting. You want to turn around but you don't dare, and your paranoia kicks in and--and--oh, is that HER? behind me? are those her footsteps? Is that her shifter i hear? I want to stop running--I need to just walk for a minute, but--crap! what if she's RIGHT BEHIND ME, waiting to MAKE HER MOVE?

I tell ya, I'm exhausted by my own thoughts some times.

Cody came out and ran the last quarter mile or so in with me, which was encouraging because, although I'm [obviously] not the littlest Outlaw I am by far the slowest one most of the time.

Many of the Outlaws got some hardware today. One of them was mine. Sweet Baboo got first Clydesdale. Everyone else is going to have do their own report! (I'm talking to SW TriGal, Cody, and Pirate, and ShyTriGirl; did I leave anyone out?) I beat my time last year by about 40 seconds. I'll know for sure when they post the splits. I did this one blind again - no watch, nothing but me. I'm starting to like that. My time was 1:15:59 total.

As for nutrition, I had a gel just as I jumped on the bike (GU Latte flavor, w/caffein) since I forgot to take it in the swim, and some GU sports drink (mango tango) during the hour before the race. I also took some GU sports drink in a bottle with me on the run.

Tune in tomorrow when, during my long run, I scream, "Will somebody please turn on the damned air conditioner?!?

...

So THERE!

A study, published yesterday in Science Magazine, reports that, on average, both sexes speak about 16,000 words a day. Despite societal stereotypes, the truth is that women and men are equally talkative.

...

Yes, it's true, it's...

I've been speaking to various people and it appears that this is a widespread condition in blogger land.

Hotter than a hoo-doo.

Dear Diary,

It was insanely hot and dry out yesterday which means two things:

1. We're a day or so away from the annual Bosque fire where kids playing with fireworks threatened multi-million dollar homes, and,
   


2. My training plan includes a ride "with hills".

I'm pretty sure that the Jimmy looked at the results of some of my latest races and thought to himself, Holy Cow, this girl needs to learn to climb. My average pace at the Grady Williams 100% hills triathlon was about, oh, 2 mph. Or something like that.

Sweet Baboo knows the area pretty well so he picked a route that would get my 30 miles. He chose a route that included - ulp - Northern Boulevard. Northern runs up through Rio Rancho climbing almost the entire way. It made me nauseated just to drive it in a car. More than once, I've thought about climbing northern, and felt the bile of anxiety rise in my throat.

Actually, it this turned out to be a GREAT route. Not too much traffic, and pretty nice roads. SB was pretty relieved.

I think Baboo worries that some day I'm going to snap and blame him for every bad experience and hire a divorce lawyer, citing "too many hills" or something like that.

Not that I haven't, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, grumbled very ugly thoughts while chasing his rear wheel up Rio Bravo...but the ugly thoughts always dissipate after I've finished the ride.

And I did it! Now, I'm not saying I did it fast. After all, according to my cyclometer, it was 99 degrees near the finish (it was about 102 F at noon here). But I did it without pulling over and walking. In fact, the only time I pulled over was to switch out my bottles.

I took 3 bottles which each had 2 scoops of HEED along with two scoops of Carbo Pro, for a total of 300 calories each. I only finished two bottles, though. If I try to do this again I'll probably take along a hydration pack with ice and Nuun for extra fluids. I'm not much of a sweater, but geez, I mean, it was 100 degrees F out.

And I Climbed. HILLS.

In 100 degree heat.

Which means I am the toughest girl in the neighborhood.

Wanna arm wrestle?

I also did it in a skin suit, with the nose of my bike tipped down just a tad. I was comfortable enough, but I need to make some adjustments. About a month ago the aerobars on my training bike started swinging around wildly and the spacers fell out. It made for a most unsatisfying ride. When things were tightened back down, I think all my adjustments - aerobars, etc., got out of wack.

So, I figure if I ramp up the length of my rides I should be in good shape for an Ironman in Kentucky in August. Especially since the whole area is in the middle of a severe drought.

This morning we're going over a small local airport to do "time trials" and I have no idea what that means.

In which I run up a mountain and think mushy thoughts.

So last Thursday last me and herself the Pirate, went with members of the Albuquerque roadrunners for a run up the side of a mountain.
Oh, and her beloved took a picture of us to prove that she is real. That's herself, on the left.

Here's the Garmin readout (below) of my run, which began at 8500 feet. Click on it to see the elevations.

I made and broke lots of deals with myself on this run.

Hmmm. Looks steep. I'll just jog it. Umm, okay, I'll jog the flats. Um, okay, I'll hike it. Energetically.

Eventually it just became a hike up, jogging down.
I was out of breath, sweaty, tired, slightly dizzy from the altitude, and loving every moment of it. I gotta do this more often! The views were spactacular.

the Pirate was of course far ahead of me, as was the rest of the pack. Alone, I started thinking, for some reason, about how much my life has changed.

Ten years ago, I was in an unhappy relationship that was about to end abuptly, after which and I would spend a year wallowing in self pity and wine while seeing a counselor.

Ten years ago I had not even met Sweet Baboo. He was a teaching assistant at my college. I'd just started grad school, and would soon begin a graduate assistantship in the faculty development center. I settled comfortably into my nickname, working on computers, writing interactive tutorials, authoring web pages, and teaching technology classes. In a little over a year this psychology graduate assistant, flipping his too-long hair out of his eyes, would be very friendly while I, the angry divorcee, would ignore him.

On the trail, I crossed ski slopes where the wind rushed at me. It was 90 degrees below, but in the sixties on the mountain. Time to go back down now.

A decade ago, if you'd have told me I'd be running 1000 feet up the side of a mountain, I'd have laughed my ass off. Then I'd have taken a puff off my cigarette, and offered to share my "trash nachos" with you, a charming concoction involving as much cheese as it possible over cheap greasy chips and whatever embellishments are availble...Surimi, leftover pork loin, whatever.

Because, in my view at the time, sitting on the couch, smoking cigarettes, and eating junk was much safer than running up the side of a mountain.

I hit the switchback flats and jogged them, and the hit a steeper downhill, stepping gently to avoid turning my ankle on the loose rocks. Hummingbirds shot by me.

Ten years ago when I attended weddings I was admonished to behave. It was well-known some that I was just a bit bitter, and thought marriage was a crock, having had more than one of them fail. This would present as my signature sardonic wit, given enough alcohol and a very solemn occasion. Moreover, I thought most men were perfectly delightful until one married them, and then, poof! Overnight they turned into (ugh) HUSBANDS.

(Even more frightening,
I worried some flaw of mine made them turn bad.)


But then almost nine years ago, I met Sweet Baboo, and all that changed.

← Here's a photo of us when we were dating.

Our first few months would be a muddled long-distance relationship and trying to figure out how to get a handle on a "normal" relationship which a "normal" person.

After nearly two years of dating, we merged: the nervous psychologist and the anxious divorcee and the three young kids.

That was July 1, 2000. Seven years ago.

I was terrified that day. What would happen? Would I work my voodoo magic and turn another perfectly normal man into a jerk?

So far, Sweet Baboo has not turned into a toad. He's still my hero, the terrific man I married. He makes me feel safe and loved and appreciated. It never ends.

The only time I've been scared since that day was right before my first open water swim.

Here's a wedding photo. →

Proving that anything's possible.

I can run up a mountain.

And live happily ever after.

Happiness is in all our grasps. All we have to do is close our eyes, take a deep breath, and jump in the water.

Or run up the trail.

Or whatever.

Happy anniversary, Sweet baboo.

XOXOXOX

Love, your GeekGirl.

...