Publicly traded bloggies?????

So, I was looking for The Spandex King, and it seem as though he has taken down his blog- if your out there Todd-leave a comment :)

At any rate, I came across

this
seems as though some of our friends are valuable commodities, and then there are the rest of us....

Where do you rate?

So, I was looking for The Spandex King, and it seem as though he has taken down his blog- if your out there Todd-leave a comment :)

At any rate, I came across

this
seems as though some of our friends are valuable commodities, and then there are the rest of us....

Where do you rate?

Huddle up campers!, but first some deep thoughts....

With afternoon highs of about 74 and mild humidity, you could not have designed a better afternoon for a run. Trihubby called at about 4 o'clock to announce he had finished work early, already swam for a half hour and was running the path back to our house. So, I strapped on my shoes and set out to meet him half way. It's so great when you live with one of your training partners (especially the post race massage part-the ewwwwww!!!! you just heard was Hyphen Girl, possibly Swinging Girl and quite possibly the in laws-all frequent visitors to the site) We met up and ran a couple miles together, then I handed off the parenting baton to Trihubby who ran home and I departed to finish the hour or so run my training schedule called for. This is going to be a long tri season, so I am deliberately taking a few weeks off from "mental" training, post half iron, and allowing myself to train at whatever output my body wants to deliver. That is probably what prompted some of my "deep" thoughts on my run.

I inevitably begin every run rehearsing my Ironman finish. I think it gets me over that initial 10 minutes of blah.

While I don't live my life for Ironman, it is the chief focus of my training this year, and therefore the motivator over every mental hurdle (Ironman will have some tough spots, better train to fight through them now and what better ammo than a looming finish line)

When I run with my ipod, I see the world as a music video

There are songs on my ipod that drive me nuts-I really need to remember what they are and drop them out of the rotation-I think I'll carry a sharpie on my next run to make notes.

Running trails with bathrooms are nice-fast food restaurants are great in a pinch.

I only "borrow" from restaurants I frequent

Will I get sick if I drink from the restaurant sink (ask me tomorrow)

Public bathrooms in states like California and Arizona must be mandated to have paper doilies for the toilet

Paper doilies are nice for people who live in warm weather states

Sweat comingled on toilet seats is just wrong in any language

Minnesota, for as progressive a state as it is does not mandate doilies

Toilet paper sticks to sweaty body parts

Minnesota ecology must trump public health-we love our trees

Weyerhauser is one of the largest paper companies in North America, located in Wisconsin.

Wisconsin doesn't have doilies.

How generous are we midwesterners to save southwesterners from sticky booty.

We are not quite so generous with our words-scandenavians are very frugal conversationalists

Therefore, we don't drop adjectives freely, and you will never find a highway prefaced with "the" The 405, The 505, it's just a paltry take 494 to 394 to crosstown etc.

No doilies, no "the's"-true conservationists

I finished my run chatting with my neighbor about World Cup Soccer. It inspired me to start a neighborhood pick up game this weekend-perhaps kids verses adults.

Now on to camp.

Soapinator is spending next week at horse camp. I don't suspect she will return as I anticipate her dream of transmogrifying into a horse will occur, and I'll be building a paddock in the back yard sometime in July. Standing Long Jump is going to accompany her to day camp, but he will follow the traditional route. He might very well not return either, but not due to transmorgrification, but rather he might just become lost in the woods. The compass he won at Family Fair night hasn't worked since it ran through the wash cycle. He is becoming so bull headed in following his own direction we might just find him in Montana some time next month.

Now, the truly amazing. Trimama gets to go to camp this year. But not just any camp. Triathlon training camp. Out of the very generous spirit of one of our tri club leaders, Paul Huddle is coming to town and setting up camp at the leader's house. Huddle is one of the truly great tri coaches, and will conduct a 3 day event for us. "Gunner" our faithful leader has generously offset quite a bit of the costs, so the camp is a sixth the cost of what it might be otherwise. There is also a rumor that his friend Luke Bell might show up. Yes I will bring my camera. While Trihubby has well inaugurated his Tri Geek uniform, I was saving my shirt for Florida. I might have to bend that a little, and fly the colors of The Geek" at camp.

Here is my training for next week, the start of the second season:

Monday: 50 mile bike with friend over rolling hills of south metro
Tuesday: 4th of July frivolity (Trihubby doing a 10K-Tribe a 2K)
Weds: Leave out of town with Trihubby-can you say post race massage
Thurs: Century ride with Trihubby
Fri: Camp begins
Sun Camp ends

Happy Training

The call of the wild, capped off with a sprint

The following ode to summer was meant to be accompanied by pictures, which for goodness only knows what reason are being sent out to cyber space by blogger. Entertainment for the 4th ring of hell no doubt. Oh, wait, it's working now


Bug spray
pine needles
campfire
toasted s'mores
tents
sleeping bags
"think of that mom, two whole days with no computer or television-how wonderful?" (yes those words were uttered by the 8 year old)
walkie talkies
lake swims
sunset on the beach
summer solstice
the glow of the nuclear power plant that was the common wash house (how foolish of me to think they might actually turn out some of the lights at night) but at least it was a short walk at midnight, and 1 and 2 and...note to self, no more pop after 7:00.
fire grilled steak and corn
cold beer
salmon and foccocia
"mom shouldn't we put some of this food away before we go to bed?"
tired Trimama shoving the most obvious into a bag and into the car
air mattresses
sleeping bags
stars and constellations
rattle, rattle, growl, growl, rattle, furious growl
what the he%# is that?
giant raccoons
babies in tow,
ravishing the picnic table,
angry they can't open the morning's doughnut containers.
tent unzipping
alert sounding,
back to their post in the woods were they had been monitoring the situation all evening
even more tired Trimama shoving more food into the car-surely they have moved on to the next camp site
rattle, rattle, growl, growl
dam the Mississippi
grab water bottle, unzip tent, tri- like sprint out to picnic table
bean smallest coon in head as he makes his way into woods coon screams and wimpers
collect every remenant of food and throw into embers or into car
coons return, angry as hell, and stand growling outside of tents
images of kilo rounds of orange paint balls flit through Trimama's head,
must be the raccoon....
Swinging Girl and Hyphen Girl under siege by mad, hungry coons
the call of nature verses the fear of coons
call of nature wins, off to nuclear power plant they go
coons have moved on in fit of spit and menace
sleep eludes
morning comes early, way too early
campfire warmth
coffee with grounds
remains for breakfast
breaking of camp
"can we do this again mom?"

Definitely

Sunday dawns
4:30 am
load bikes
fill bottles
check for rain-it's going to be wet
pick up training partner
thank god for Starbucks that opens at 5:30 am drive south
pass the Jolly Green Giant
Check in
Body marking
give up on dry, aim for warm up
chat with transition neighbors
I love tri mornings
rack bike
lay out transition
no point to socks, short distance and rain making them obsolete
squeeze into wet suit
warm up in rock quarry
water warm-rain falling
call to start
tri swimming is a contact sport
400 yards of water polo
yield no line
sprint to shore
26th out of 84 in wave
strip wet suit
run to bike
feeling good
1 mile climb out of valley
Zigie Zagie Zigie Zagie, oi, oi, oi (I figure the hills of Zurich can't be this bad)
up hill, into wind, avs for fastest would top out at 21 mph
turn around
fly
downhill, wind at back
46 minutes good enough for 25th
catch nephew on Trihubby's knobby tired mountain bike
time to run
through the woods
onto streets
I am so not a sprinter any longer
why am I doing this
wait, I like to run
hold pace
pass on water stops
think track work outs
33:45 for 4 miles
8th out of 22 for age group
23 out of 84 women
96th out of 204 overall

72 overall on swim-what the ???????????

Not bad for an iron mom in training :)
Yes the rain was so dense it fogged the camera-so my spectacular finish looks like a dream-which it just might have been

sleep is good





Fianlly,
my entry for the

ugliest foot contest

Be careful with my truck....

"...I've got my door racks in the back" Trihubby admonished me when we swapped vehicles at work Friday night.

Oh, you mean you want me to sharpen my dismal depth perception and watch what the heck I'm doing when I back out of that parking space. I suppose that means you want me to miss the party tent erected in the parking lot for the express purpose of keeping the Monochromes from sublimating into the pavement and forming neon, gelatenous pools of miscreant. Is that what you mean? Good thing I'd have a "severe thunderstorm with 65mph straightline wind" as an alibi, although the 24 hour video surveillance could be a problem. I still in need of an explanation for taking out the yellow post in the bike store parking lot. One good thing, I have a titanium bumper. It's indestructable-god knows I've tested it's limits. In the true kid loving spirit of Trimama, I opted to reallign the truck tires rather than take out the sole source of parking lot shade.

Yes, that is the cute little pupster, keeping watch over the home front. Yes, she scuttles backward when she barks at strangers. No, she isn't yappy, and she doesn't bark very often.

Yes, she must think her droppings are chocolate, and therefore irresistable to consume. At least that is Buck Naked Boy's explanation (I really need to keep an eye on what he puts in his mouth). My apologies to chocolate lovers everywhere. No, I don't let the dog come within five feet of my face. Neither of them.

The Tribe is enjoying summer, going to their park program, gearing up for day camp and just being kids. Frankly, I'm a little tired of the "what are you doing for the summer?" question.

Pretty much the usual. Laundry, clean house, train, clean house, train, library, picnics, train, clean house etc.

I am taking The Tribe camping this week. Trihubby is opting out, something about sleep, and his own bed. I don't get it. Ask me Friday night (if you can wake me)

Training is moving along fine, I think I'm past the 7 day slump, post big race, and feeling my legs again. Trihubby and I rode 48 miles Sunday am, for Father's day, and we did an early am track run this morning. I ran a 10K Saturday and my legs weren't too happy- it was more a run/walk in the very Florida-like wind and humidity.

Group swim in the am and bike ride tomorrow evening-

So, go celebrate the Summer Solstice in style.

We are racing a sprint race Sunday-whoopee for speed!

Buzzy cuts, Blue patches and Hairy Pits

"What's wrong with hairy pits?" queried SLJ. Nothing, as far as me and my junior high girl friends were concerned. Harry was the gorgeous high school boy that lived across the street, and who would send myself and my girlfriends giggling and screaming out of sight each time he was in his driveway. Harry wasn't always a Pitts. His biological father, Mr. S, left early on though, and his benevolent, adoptive father, Mr. Pitts, fated him to his eternal infamy. While no one in this household would admit to it, we have our own version of Harry living across the street.

School ended last Thursday, and with that the 88 days of summer commence. All of my training hours are logged early, and the focus of blogging shifts ever more so to the antics of The Tribe. There is no better sign of summer than the buzzy cut rite of passage. I have no idea how the boys accumulate that many layers of sediment on their skulls each day, but I do know the best way to keep them clean is to shave them close. A quick scrub with the wash cloth at night and they go to bed clean and dry-headed in their air conditioned rooms. Plus, you can't beat the feeling of rubbing that scrubbly head. Standing Long Jump charges a quarter per rub. Despite the look on his face, SLJ was esctatic for the end of school, but HG had bloodied his nose by accident (?) right before the pictures. She was apologetic, so I'll take her word for it.

With the final day of school comes the awarding of the coveted Blue Patch. It took a grueling run on the track and a hyper extended hamstring flexibility stretch, but Soapinator won her blue patch. (which she proceeded to lose and find again on the play ground in the melee of screams and jubilation of "School's Out!- high drama, that)

The pool passes are purchased, the days are long and the nights are warm, the air is scented and the end of the day beer is cold. Sleep is peaceful and life is good. We ride with the local tri club tonight, and will no doubt further cement the plans for Zurich over beer and appetizers.

I did a ladder, speed workout on the track yesterday morning and was painfully reminded that I did a half iron Saturday when I awoke this morning. A little more recovery time, please.

Have a good one

Fresh (almost) From the Forge

First the report, then the contemplation. (See how nice I am, I won't make you wade through my brain to get to the point :)

This was a tough and dedicated field of 35 female racers with the top 14 spots finishing between 4: freakin 35 and 5:30. From the conversation in transition I knew I was among seasoned veterans, mostly Ironmen, Kona competitors and the like. It's early in the season and only serious athletes need apply. Listen and learn Trimama, listen and learn. There were a few newbies like myself, laughing when in my nervousness I put my wetsuit on backward, and the veterans were instructive and calming in a way only triatletes can be.

I was 27th out of 35 women, 116 out of 136th overall and 7th out of 9 age group.

Ballet Toes and Bananas:

Thanks to a tip from Fe Lady and stocking up on potassium I escaped the swim without cramping, learned to draft and most importantly swam in a straight line. I've also decided that I'm not going to spot my fellow age groupers time in the front end by entering the water with such hesitation. I won't be swimming over anyone anytime soon, but I'm also not going to give up those few minutes getting into the water and starting the stroke. My one goal for the swim was to stay straight and on course. I did. Even though it took plenty of extra sighting. I realized I have the ugliest stroke in the lake when Trihubby was able to distinguish me from the other pink caps by my spastic left arm. Can anyone say stroke clinic? I stripped my wetsuit in the lake and went to transition, which added to my swim time as the timing mat was at the entrance to T1.

38:11 But I'm guessing the actual swim was more like 34 and change-it would help me a lot if I didn't reel like a drunken sailor trying to get out of my wet suit :) and if time mattered I might have run up the ramp-but time wasn't on my mind today.

It was a cold 58 degrees and windy, so T1 included long sleeve shirt, padded shorts (which are just nasty to put on over wet skin) socks, shoes, gloves, nutrition, helmet etc) 3:40 My race plan called for a slow transition to ensure I biked out with everything in place

Bike 25th out of 35 in 3:26:22. I covered 18.7 in 59 minutes. Want to guess what happened at mile 27?

flubflubflubflub. I've never flatted so I didn't know what to make of that sound emanating from my back tire. But then I started to feel every pebble in the road. I travelled another mile flub, flub flubbing at 14 mph as the air left my tire, but I was looking for a SAG truck, of which there were none-anywhere-the entire day.

I rode to a main intersection and spotted an official looking guy and pulled up asking for help changing my tire. He had a whole bag of stuff and his companions proceeded to help-with the caution that I would get a 4 minute penalty for outside assistance. Let's see, taking a half hour to change a tire, or taking 15 minutes with help in a race I just want to finish upright. I'll take the help. So, I'm giving myself credit for a 3:11 bike in terms of actual exertion (AE) which is pushing the 17.8 mph average that cyclometer was reading. Given the wind (again) and hills I'll take it. I've also learned the invaluable lesson of knowing the course. There were a couple rough hills on the double loop course, including dead, decomposing skunk hill that stunk literally and well, literally. My other biking goal was to never allow my speed to drop below 11 mph-mission accomplished-except for the flat. Those hills dropped me to 8 or 9 mph six weeks back.

T2 4:16 What the heck. It must have been the time I took eating Nutter Butters in transition. I thought I was faster. I stripped out of my padded shorts, biking shirt and added my running shirt. Oh, Oh, Oh, I called Trihubby to let him know I'd flatted and was heading out on the run.

Double -double- this- this, double- double- that. Double- double- this- this double- double that.

The Tribe has some new hand game they play whereby this mantra is repeated as they go through hand motions. That damn cadence repeated a million times as my feet flopped along the pavement on the run. My goal for the run was to keep my pace between 9-9:30 minutes walking the water stops for a 10:00 min/mi overall pace to finish in 2:10. I also wanted to keep my heart rate around 150, and determined to walk any hills that pushed it to the 165 or so level.


Run time 2:14:05 with the best part of the day awaiting at the finish line. The Tribe was there and came running towards me, so we did a Florida practice down the shoot.

I felt good and strong at the end. I had more in me, which is exactly where I wanted my training to be. I didn't want a demoralizing, awful finish, with Ironman on the horizon. No second guessing-I'm ready to move forward to the next level of training.

Official time 6:26 ATM 6:11. I thought breaking the 6 hour mark would be cool, but I knew with the wind that wasn't going to happen, a solid 70.3 in the bank.



So now on to the contemplation-it might be worth a cup of tea, this post has been simmering for a couple of weeks. (to be honest, I don't expect too many of you to read this-having exhausted your attention on the race report. Yes, that is intentional as this part is more for my benefit than yours.

The funny thing about being a relative "newbie" to a sport like triathlon is that no matter how much you experience, how much you read, there is always something new waiting for you-in training, in racing, in life. I mentioned in an earlier post that I had this epiphany moment a few weeks back whereby I realized I am no longer afraid. I can't pinpoint exactly what I might have been afraid of before, it was more a subtle current that ran through the core of who I was. I didn't even know it was there because it didn't seem to impact my life in any overt way. It just occured to me that the fear was gone, and I felt different. More genuinely confident, more "me" in the way that God would want "me" to be. A person is a slave to anything that would have mastery over them, and perhaps there is little irony that I would find my freedom on the path to Liberty 70.3.

We are given the gift of mentors, friends, and parents to shepard our souls through this life. Abusers don't shepard souls, they own them, they enslave them. They strip you of security and confidence while convincing you that only they can replace what you have lost, all the while neglecting the obvious point that they raped those virtues away in the first place. Somewhere on the path to Liberty I reclaimed what was mine. Reclaimed in the truest sense of the word. This was not "borrowed" athletic swagger that elevated the value of performance and competition in pursuit of accolades meant to feed an insatiable ego, who then bastardized those achievements to bolster his own sense of rightness and self esteem, only to leave me bankrupt when the next round of violence erupted. Every athletic dream I pursued was done with the sole purpose of raising my currency in a system that had no logical rate of exchange. Eventually I figured that out and I quit competing; I left the system. But the system did not leave me. It lay dormant for ten years. Because I had spent those interim years solidifying the ground beneath my feet, when I entered the world of triathlon I was able to apply a more matured personality to the training and races and have a great time. But there was always that subtle, "make him proud or else" This in spite of knowing that there was precious little pride and much unspeakable "or else" driving that current. A current that almost swept me away at Twin Cities Marathon last fall with fear and flashbacks, in part because I received an "or else" phone call two days before the run. I had neither the talent nor training to excel at a marathon, and fear of failure almost consummed me, but for two things, The Tribe, and Florida. My integrity on the line with The Tribe if I quit what I started and this quirky idea that a marathon was the doorway to Florida compelled me past the "or else" fears to the finish line from which I spent six months feeling a failure with my "slow" time. Understand? Abuse twists and torments long after the abuser is removed. Fast forward a few months to when I began my training in earnest for Liberty. It was winter and all pool and bike trainer all the time. I did change my routine and stick to running outdoors through the winter which was a small step in and of itself. No surprise, I liked the controlled enviroment of the treadmill. I should emphasize here that I'm not a controlling person in the sense of annoying everyone around me, I work to control one thing, my mental and emotional stability. House rules forbid tipping your hand, and house of violence rules dictate severe retribution for the kid who let's on to the family secrets; control is survival. And to be honest, counseling your way through some of this stuff compells you to believe you're going to "drop your basket" so to speak, so control is sanity. I had no means to assess my ability to take on mental challenges, so intially I proceeded with caution, seeking to avoid tipping the scales. Now I realize I was no where close to tipping, but when you don't know, you don't know.

Experience and positive reinforcement bring confidence, control is no longer necessary.

So unnerved was I by the thought of biking outdoors, I seriously contemplated my entire training on the bike path that travels within a six mile radius of my house, since I could always walk home if something went wrong. That path held one virtue, it is flat and it is boring as hell; a four hour ride on that loop would drive me insane. So, on my first long ride I set out and rode 62 miles, away from home, alone, plotting my own course, taking responsibility for my needs and my pain management. Having control of pain management is monumental, I believe it achieved the single greatest blow to that core fear. I quickly learned that pain is manageable and mental fatigue is easily defeated by a shot of Gatorade. If only all of life's woe's were similarly tackled. I was simultaneously racking up the yardage in the swimming pool, so when it came to swimming in the lake, "I survived so I can survive another swim" gave way to "I can do a mile, a mile is nothing, I will swim this". Aahh, confidence. I almost quit the sport last year when the cold water and newbie reaction to the constriction of a wet suit threatened to cement me in permanant swimming phobia at the Buffalo tri. That was only 400 yards. I spent last season refusing to warm up for the swim in fear that I only had 600 yards in me at the most and any warm up would cause me to drown.

Confidence vs control- no contest.

Finishing Buffalo Olympic this year put an exclamation point on "I am no longer afraid".

When I bike now, I let go on the downhills, I fly. It goes without saying, when you learn to fly on your bike, you soar. When you don't worry about flats and crashes and speed and what if's, you soar. You bike and you experience. You take in life and nature and the majesty of your Creator, rather than obsess over balance and possible threats. Fear breaks down when threat isn't crouching at every corner. Just ride. And suddenly, 70 miles away from home is nothing. 56 miles is half iron, baby.

I had moments yesterday when "make him proud or else" hovered on my shoulder to which my response was "get over yourself" Then I began to think about all of the people in my life, The Tribe, friends, family, bloggers and I said a little prayer for each person I thought of, and I drank some Gatorade and I soared.

Well until my tire went flat :)

But there was help when I needed it.

Confidence vs Control

One makes life oh so much sweeter, oh and it comes with it's own token of appreciation.

If you hung in this long, thanks for stopping by, and thanks for how you've inspired me to soar.

70.3 Baby!

The short version:

Whooohooohoooohoo!!!!!!!!!!!!

Half Iron Baby!!!!!

Unofficial time 6:15 Waiting official results

Friends are coming over to celebrate the start of summer (it's 58 degrees and overcast-you call that summer?) So, campfire, steaks on the grill and a little friend I like to call Patron, Reposado. I'm taking a view days off from Ironman training camp-I think I've earned it.

Trimama takes on the Half Ironman!

Getting out of the water.


Looking strong on the Bike!


Ok....This ones just for me....I do love triathlon training ;)
Tridaddy


Link

Fighting the nerves

I'm in full on taper mode now, and that is simply too much time to think. I'm nervous as heck, with 2 days to go. I made the mistake, maybe, of looking at the registered partipants. There are only nine women in my age group doing this half and of the 180 racers only perhaps 40 are chicks. What's up women? Do we want the guys to have all the fun?

Speaking of fun, is there alot more to be found in the sporting life than crossing the finish line?
Trihubby bikiing strong
Cooling off in the lake.


I have a whole blog about a recent realization I've had about fear and no longer being afraid-but I think it means to wait until after this race is complete.

So, on another note, Trihubby just called, he's out pub-ing with the Local tri club after the weekly ride and apparently we're doing Ironman Zurich next July. Sounds like fun, but then so do braces. I don't mean to burst his beer happy bubble, but you don't walk into the ortho for under 3 bills, times four, so it's either teeth like the Brits and flying first class, or nice shiny teeth. Perhaps a blogland vote is in order :)

Just one 20 minute run left, then race day.

Bike Envy

Tattoo my butt and call me a triathlete!

Ok, I still have no tattoos, but I had way too much fun yesterday! And, might I add, I am an Olympian!!!!!!

For you seasoned triathletes, that might not mean as much, but trust me, for Trimama, it's stellar.

This is the course that almost squashed my tri career last year- the swim, the hills on the bike, I was toasted by the sprint course. This year I was prepared. I was freakin half iron prepared-which was good because this was my prep race for Saturday.

Here's the stats:

186 out of 228 overall- Chris Leigh was first overall by about 9 minutes
46 out of 64 women-Badmann only beat me by 54 minutes :)
10 out of 19 in women 30-39
31:48 swim- I absolutely cannot swim in a straight line-so let's just say this was my 1.3 mile time .9 mile swim. The lake was choppy, and I think pulling my face over the wave when I breathed perpetually sent me towards the right. Oh, and then my left leg cramped, so I pointed my foot down and dragged it for 75 yards, swam another 30 and my right leg charlie horsed. That hurt like the onset of labor. I basically dragged my body side ways for 150 yards towards the finish, trying to regain mobility in my frozen leg. That sucked. Surprisingly, I stayed very calm though.

I pulled my wet suit off in the water-works like a charm when you are about ankle deep-much faster than struggling with it on shore.

T1 2:57 I deliberately putzed here, making sure I implemented my nutrition plan-worked like a charm. I also ran with my shoes on my aero bars through the longer transition area and waited to put them on until just outside the mat. Made for a faster commute.

7th out of 19 on bike (yes I broke the top 10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) calming now.

1:23:04 for an average 17.9 over 24.8 miles. That’s almost 18mph on the hilliest course I have ever ridden, with 30 mph gusts of wind that really wanted to dump you off your bike.

T2 2:36 Trying to switch out your laces pre race and then forgetting to loosen them and slide them on and off so when you get to transition you have monkey with the laces uuuggg is not a good idea. Talking with a race partners wife for a bit-makes it worth the fun of being there.

11th out of 19 on run-I ran my half marathon half iron pace deliberately-walked and talked the water stops and chugged up and down the hills. Waited for Trihubby when we met at my mile 3.5 and his mile 4.5-kissed. Aaaaahhhhhhh. Race directors have bizarre humor, this course has about a mile incline up, up, up, to a cemetery, where you loop through and head back down toward the finish. Mildly amusing. Chatted with a dad most of the run which helped it go by faster. Caught race partner with a half mile to go, he was hurting with a bad hammy.

High five, and whooped with every spectator over the last eigth mile, leaped five feet in the air through the finish line. My finish is becoming the stuff of folk lore now ☺
Hugged Trihubby at the finish line.

I kept to my goals to run a clean, practice race. Nutrition worked well, and I feel like the kinks are ironed out as much as they can be.

It’s on to Iron.


Badmann was one of the most genuine, gracious people I have ever met and has one of the badman-est bikes I have ever seen. Her nutrition is housed in the frame, there are no bullhorns, just aerobars and the wheel is some wicked composite thing. Pics to follow soon.

Badmann; just your everyday person?

I received this email about my upcoming race-I thought it was a pretty cool story.

"Hello all, Natascha Badmann is in town, and I got a chance to ride the Buffalo Tri course with her and her coach yesterday. Two words, "Different Planet", one word "Humility". I didn't really think I could stay with them, but wow. At one point I was doing 25MPH on the level, and they went by so fast, I wanted to get off and see if my bike was ok. She is a very fun person to talk to, and her coach Tony is something. He coaches 50 Athletes in Switzerland, and met her 14 years ago. She was overweight, and heard he had lost weight, so she talked to him. Her only exercise at that time was riding horses. He told her to eat Pasta at night, and she might have to exercise a little. It has seemed to have worked pretty well for her--6 out of last 8 Hawaii Ironman Championships."


Kewl Nitrox asked for a pic of Natasha's bike. I'll give it my best shot, but I certainly won't be seeing her on the course-unless I accidentally run her over as I'm heading to T2 and she is striding towards the finish line. Of course I can always useBolder's new machine and then things might work out ok-at least that way I could dispose myself of the idea swapping Natasha's bike for the mountain bike I rode in this race last year. I was such a rookie.

I know, I know, puppy pics. I can't find the charger for my camera's battery-which makes it difficult to upload new shots. This might work to my advantage because what was a fluffy, adorable puppy will now be Chia Puppy. And it wasn't my fault. She was "helping" me seed the back yard Monday and I swear she knew exactly where the seed was going to fall and ran into the spray of seed. So, in spite of days of picking seed from her fur, Chia dog she will no doubt become.

The Tribe is wrapping up school which includes among other things, the testing for the Presidential Physical Fitness program. Hyphen Girl has won the top honor, blue patch for the past 3 years and has qualified for that level in every event except the mile run this year. She missed that day of class when we drove up to get Chia Pup, so we needed to do a make up run at the track. Earlier in the day I had picked up new running shoes for both HG and Soapinator, and a "running shirt" for Soap. Wonder of wonders, the Soap, who has one speed-sprint-and who has only actually completed the mile run in 2 of 5 attempts struck out on the track, intent on running the mile. Off she went, and I casually glanced at my watch. I assumed she would do her normal start/stop/walk/ go play, but she just continued running. She ran on her own, then she ran with HG on her warm up lap. And she ran on while HG stretched in preperation for her run. Next thing I know, she was running up to me, smiling.

"I did it!" "I ran a mile".

I glanced at my watch- a very unofficial 9:20. That is a qualifying time for the blue patch. I wrote her Phy ed teacher. I hope he counts it for her and gives her the patch. It would make her year! HG had the difficult challenge of running an 8:23 mile to qualify for blue, on an 85 degree, windy, humid afternoon. She clicked out the first lap in 1:55, cheer, cheer, keep going, lap 2 3:52, she was holding her pace-keep going! Only 2 laps to go! Lap 3, and frankly I was surprised, she was still holding a sub 8 pace with a 5:55. I could tell she was beginning to fade, so I crossed the infield to meet her at the second turn-kicking off my flip flops in mid stride . I ran the infield while she followed the inside lane of the track. She was starting to hyperventilate, and cry. There's no crying in track. (well actually there is a lot of crying in track) Time for drill sargent mom to kick in.

"You are two turns from finishing-you are not quitting right now! Keep going! Suck it up and keep moving! Just one more turn-less than 200 yards! Oh, you're mad at me now? Good! Now bring it home! 100 yards to go! That's it, go!

The final 300 yards she was crying and staggering every few steps (goodness how melodramatic tweeners can be). I knew she wanted blue, and I knew she could hit blue if she just kept pace and took it to the finish line. She sprinted the final 50 yards and crossed in 8:10. It took about 5 minutes of "I can't breathe" and "cry, cry" and pouring water down her neck for the endorphins to kick in. She earned her blue badge for a 4th straight year. A self congratulatory smile on her face, talking a million miles a minute, we drove home.

That's my girls.

Did my final 13 miles of biking followed by a 40 minute run in preparation for Sunday. Did I mention it is hot here? I'm clearly trained for distance rather than sprinting, but I'm ready.

Good luck to Keryn, racing her first tri this weekend! Stop by and wish her luck

Have a great, safe weekend!