Sunday, October 29, 2006

Question of the Week

But first, congrats to Hyphen Girl and her soccer team for capturing the league championship yesterday. The girls won 2-1 and 4-2 in games yesterday, taking the championship from the highly favored team that beat them a few weeks back. Yea, that was fun. This was Hyphen Girl's first season and it was exciting to watch her grow as a player over the course of the season. The team graduates their goalie this year, so I'm already working on her to take up her mom's old position :-)

Now on the the question of the week. As the readers of my blog will know, I've called into question the "man card" status of a certain Boulderite for whining like a school girl because his diswasher broke down. I know it's tough washing your Vera Wang "Love Knots" by hand, but for goodness sake, nuts up and at least try to find the handle end of the screwdriver.

And thus I descend deeper into my karmic appliance sink hole. Since impugning the Bolderette, my appliances have universally rebelled and gone on the blink. And I mean appliances plural. Sink is dripping, dishwasher leaving crust, fridge/freezer warm, oven cold, disposal backing up. In infinte Trimama wisdom, I fixed the freezer/fridge, but everything else is just plain tempermental. With the pending chore of packing the Tribe off to Florida, I can't afford this quirk to float down toward my laundry room, so I wrote to The Bold and begged him for absolution. I imagined he would respond with his typical booty call, which I feel fairly confident to pull off in my Iron shapened body,

BUT NOooooooooo!

He went for the heart.

He demands the ancient oblation of the gods of old.

Just as Jepthah long ago, in the jubilation of defeating the Ammonites offers to sacrifice to the Lord the first thing that comes from his house, only to be met by his beloved daughter, who he must now sacrifice to keep his word,

I too am being asked to sacrifice my first born to the magnificent, all caring, biker god, Bolder.

To assuage his wounded pride I must change the name of the one and only Hyphen Girl to "Bold"

What would you do?

A) Send HG to Boulder for a week, let him deal with the disorder that is 13, in hopes that by day 2 he'd send her packing name and all.

B) Change the name, for what's in a name? A rose by any other would smell as sweet.

C) Entreat the blogosphere to so press the Bold with indignation and bribes that he might renounce his claim on HG?

D) Please feel free to add

Taper: what doesn't kill you makes you ready to roll. 6 days baby!

Thursday, October 26, 2006


Finished in fine form the past three years the number was assigned-meaning to carry on the tradition.

IMFL Schedule

I could have been Julie McCoy on The Love Boat-you're friendly cruise director. I'm sure at one point in life I had hair like that. I'm getting antsy to know my plans for Florida, so here is what I have come up with, trying to implement a simple way for my fellow gator bait IM er's to catch up with each other.

Weds: I arrive with the Soapinator about noon. Tan and Taper by the pool at The Inn at St. Thomas Square. Sorry, no tequila, see Sunday.

Thurs: Swim with the Soapinator. 8:15 in front of the Boardwalk Hotel (host site). My training buddy Iron Jenny will be there as well so that makes for a safe swim. I know they have sponsored swim times, but they weren't listed in the athlete guide, and I want to get a feel for the water in the morning. Hot beverages and bagels to follow the swim.

10:00 Ironman village, REGISTRATION!!!!!!!!!
11:15 Drop swag at hotel
11:30 regroup in The Inn parking lot to drive the bike course- lunch somewhere along the way.
3:00 (at the latest) return to hotel
3:45 Pick up the rest of The Tribe at the airport
Evening carb load dinner, (Iron Shelly is bringing signs for blog fest), Kahuna's multimedia production and athlete meeting.
8:00 or so, nice evening stroll along the ocean

8:00 or so, another ocean swim and run (maybe 15 minutes each)
12:00 picnic with all of the kiddos
2:00 bike drop, tour Iron Village, etc
4:00 final calorie load meal

8:30 or so bed

Saturday Whoooo Hoooo Hoooo!!!!!!!

Sunday: Tequila, tanning and tattoos by the pool!!

I'll bring my laptop along to update as changes occur and I have several cell numbers. If I don't have yours and you want to join in on the festivites, email me your number and when you arrive in town.

Can't wait to meet all of you and your families

I dropped my gear bag off this am and I was shaking as I packed it, I think that qualifies as excited.

I the immortal words of Marvin Gaye

Let's Get It On!!!!!!

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Final 2 hour spin

The final 2 hour spin is in the bag. Now it's all training indoors all the time. I'm trying to find the hottest/steamiest enviroments to train in now, to keep some semblance of warm weather training. I dropped Bubble Bike off at my local bike shop, where it all began 20 months ago, for a final tune up and shipment to Florida. It was snowing when I pulled into the parking lot. There are palm trees in the transition area in Florida. That is a Trimama transition area. I can't wait to put my feet in the ocean again, Florida, here we come!

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Question of the week

You are at the YMCA, happily contemplating your final two mile swim while showering, when your boss comes through the locker room leading a tour of prospective Y members, the tour pauses in the shower room to have a view of the sauna, you:

A) Hug your naked body against the shower wall, praying that no one will notice you behind the skimpy six inch shower curtain.

B) Fling the curtain aside, strike your favorite "muscle" pose and exclaim, you want a bod like this, then join the YMCA!

C) Hopeful of a diversion, you fling your shampoo bottle across the room, then while everyone is distracted by the sound, whisk over to the locker room and hide yourself in a locker.

D) Feel free to add your own

Did you notice I said final two mile swim! Yea baby!

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

I can't drink her pop, we don't share the same soul

Only a 10 year old girl could apply metaphysics to gatorade, and unfortunately I didn't have time to discuss the concept of "soul mates" with Soapinator and her friend at yesterday's soccer game. So, I'm down two gatorades. No matter, it's taper time. I feel at a loss for what to do, being fully convinced now that all of my conditioning is diminishing exponetially and that I will arrive in Florida barely able to run down the sand into the surf. The logic of taper is so irrational. Hyphen Girl is playing soccer this fall and we froze as spectators at last nights game, but it was worth the effort-the girls won 2-1.

It's Soapinator's birthday today, yea for ten years of blessing with this kid. She's just one of those kids who are easy to have around, and her birthday reminds us how fortunate we are.

Buck Naked Boy is a whole other story, unless of course, you want a detailed description of chest proportions. He is at that stage where a keen awareness of body parts dominates his thoughts, and tonight he filled me in on the size and shape of each family members breasts, boys included, while we peeled potatos. Fascinating, I assure you.

We had recess duty yesterday. Mostly same old, same old. With the exception of Queen Gertrude. One of the first grade girls had convinced a large contingent of the kindergarten class that she was "Queen of Everything" She had many loyal subjects, some of whom even paid her money to curry favor and remain as subjects in her kingdom. The kingdom came to an end yesterday when the first grade teachers resolved the drama, and Gertrude isn't allowed to play with kindergarteners for two days. Who says the devil wears Prada?

Then there was "Hammy"

Hammy was heaved over the chain link fence that marks the border of the playground. It took 20 questions to finally understand what Hammy was and why it was so important to retrieve. Turns out the fifth grade class had discovered a dead squirrel, adopted it as their own, buried it and Hammy was the memorial stone.

Yea, gross. In particular, because as I understand it, Hammy was "sacred" because parts of the squirrel were petrified to it.

Ironman North America sent me an email today. The last "out"

"We will be assigning race numbers for IMFL on Friday, October 20th. If you do not intend to race and do not want to be assigned a number please contact us."

No chance.

Of course it would be great to get #1406. Time to start packing the warm weather clothes up for The Tribe, we leave 2 weeks from today.


Saturday, October 14, 2006

Question of the week

Whew, got this in under the wire. If you are going to add a weekly feature, it's probably best not to take it on during the apex of Ironman training, tax deadlines and the tornado that is The Tribe's weekly output. That being said, here is this weeks question(s)- yes, two for the price of one, they are related.

If the means by which we measure a man's fortitude is by his (insert favorite_______ eg balls, kahones, etc) what is the true measure of a woman?

a) It's woman's lib, she can have balls if she wants to (which I don't because apparently it brings up a whole other level of underwear concern Kahuna I'll send you a nice, supple, man purse to hold your SERIOUSLY IN JEAPORDY man card.

b) Utilize an allegorical standard of measure where the gender distinction is fuzzy at best- say WNBA, as in that chick is WNBA X's 5. (what???? Oh, I suppose you think WNBA is sersely rockin hoops.)

c) Format your own scale based on other female anatomical parts. But see, this really doesn't work, as we have already established that falsies sink.

d) Please feel free to add your own (but keep it tasteful, Hyphen Girl and my father in law frequent this site- sorry dad)


If the measure of a man is validated by his "man" card, which is certainly revoked by the following:

1) Undue adulation of Kelly Clarkson music (music, not the hawt chick herself)

2) Prattling on about dishwashers and coordinated wash utensils

3) Reveling publicly (note public-ly) about the glory of supple underwear

4) Again, feel free to add on..


How is the measure of a woman validated? In other words, what are the credentials of a chick card?

No multiple choice on this one class, it's blue book time. (For those of you not old enough to recall the era of blue book exams-that means essay)

Text Message, IM and otherwise incomplete prose will be returned without a grade. And yes, spelling counts.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Snow??? Now that could be a problem

My final century ride was scheduled for Friday of this week. However, we have out of town guests for the weekend, so I moved the ride to Wednesday. That was until I saw snow in the forecast.


Excuse me, I'm training for an Ironman here.

So, I moved my final "long" ride to yesterday. It was 42 degrees when I set out. But, there was no rain, and variable winds, so all in all, the ride went well. I took my "flat" loop that winds around the city, which takes me on a bike lane through the downtown area. You exit downtown and head back out into the first tier burbs. I was still within smelling distance of the city sewer gas when I almost ran smack into three deer.

Yes, deer. White tail, four legged, 250 pound, rats.

In downtown!

I saw them on the path from about 50 yards out, and they had no intention of moving. So I yelled. And they looked at me as if I had a 1000 watt halogen strapped to my head. Well, they were encamped near downtown. Between the cabbies, the homeless people and the stressed out, they are probably used to crazy people yelling at them.

They didn't move. I don't think they even blinked.

I considered a run at deer bowling.

But it was 3-1 and I was on bubble bike.

So, I crossed to the other side of the path and rode on by, close enough to hear their breath.

I hear venison is a nice lean alternative to beef.

Trihubby needs your help, please, a little intervention would be nice.

Swim/run today- oh I'm glad to be seeing the starting line that marks the end of training.

Happy and safe trails

Friday, October 06, 2006

Answers and more questions

"B" and "C"

My first reaction to Marathon singer was to turn and ask him to sing louder, with an "I love that song" and just as I was about to do so, I remembered this was probably an "A" race for him and he was in his own space, enjoying the day. There is nothing like a little course humiliation to ruin the experience, so I thought it kindest to leave him to his Billy Joel, thankful for the laugh. "For the longest time" lingered in my brain until we hit the Lake of the Isles bridge with The Hallelujah Chorus blasting from a bose system that wouldn't fit in my living room. Perfect.

Now, onward to more pressing matters.

With all of this training Taconite Boy and I feel like Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head with our parts falling off. So, if anyone has a spare right arm, email me and I'll give you my address. While we are at it, I might try a new nose...

At any rate, I'm lying a little low this week, sort of a recovery week, sort of I stacked all of my "key" workouts in the front of the week, which leaves extra time for life's little observations.

Speaking of Potato Heads, many of you know we bought this little girl this past springNot bad for a little drop kick, and her name is "Re" yes, as in "I need to consult with you re: the Jones account" Don't ask. Re is a mix breed comprised of Shiatzu (sp?) and toy poodle, thus a shi poo. This is the back end of Re, which I've had extra time to observe this week. Stay with me here. Yesterday, BNB and I caught up with Trihubby for some lunch and Re came along for the ride. This is where I observed that Re, being the potatohead that she is, has a poodle back and a shiatzu front. Kid you not, the dog is in permanant aero
position. This tilt is not a simple case of her nose being on the ground, no, when she is level, she is not level, she is aero.

Can I get a refund?

Who do I consult re: Re?

It's a perfect biking day, so I'm breaking protocol and heading out for a 25 miler than a swim tonight.

Have a great weekend and Wish Swinging Girl a super sweet 16 birthday!

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Question of the week

Perhaps a new weekly feature at

If you are running in a race, say, a marathon, and the athlete two steps behind you starts to sing out loud the song on his ipod you:

A) Shrug and go into passing gear to run on the other side of the road

B) Exclaim, "I love that Billy Joel song" and sing along out loud with him, knowing that since you sing slightly off tune anyhow, between the two of you there is wonderful harmony.

C) Remain indifferent, run another mile, then bang your head against a tree because you can't shake the Billy Joel song from your head

D) Other (feel free to add on)

Monday, October 02, 2006

Running the monkey off my back

Last year I ran the Twin Cities Marathon, my first marathon, and frankly, had a terrible race. It wasn't supposed to be a terrible race. It was supposed to be the lynch pin on which I rested my decision to sign up for Ironman Florida. I thank God for perspective, because if I had allowed that race to be the lynch pin, I wouldn't be sitting here less than a month from tracing my name in the sand with my toes. (Yea, I'm making a starting line for myself) I ran that day with the weight of the world on my shoulders. At mile 5, I ran by the road that marked me four miles from home. It took every ounce of will to move on to mile 6. I ran to mile 6 because I wanted to keep a legitimate claim on pushing The Tribe to finish what they start and to start aiming big. By mile 12 I was a crying mess, blubbering to Trihubby that I just can't do this, not on this day. I had accumulated hundreds of training miles for this race, but I just didn't have it on this day. I tuned in my mp3 and just tried to let the road absorb me, pushing back the demons that were having a field day in my mind. I hyperventilated from miles 17-19 and merely accepted my fate at The Wall. And I ran on. I sort of knew that if I had quit, I couldn't sign up for Florida, and for god only knows why, I really, really wanted Florida. I ran along Summit, and up and over the hill, and down the hill, thankful to just see the finish line. When I crossed that line, I cried. And I cried for over an hour. Every thing just came out at that moment.

Fast forward one year.

Yesterday I ran 18 miles of the Twin Cities Marathon. My training plan called for a 2:40 run, so why not in race conditions, along a beautiful course, fully supported? When my running buddy, Henry, and I made our way to the starting corral we saw a middle age couple with stuffed animal monkeys pinned to their backs. I laughed at that metaphor, as I'm sure they pulled them off at the finish line. It was a glorious day to run. Cool morning, with the sun gradually heating up the day. Half a million spectators lining the course, bluebird sky, slight breezes, just fabulous. And I ran the race I was looking for last year. No ear phones, just me, the sounds of fall, 10,000 other runners and the fans. I floated past mile 5, and laughed at the thought of turning, I can't believe I'd thougth that way last year. Mile after mile, I chatted with my neighbors, breathed in fall and just ran. I barely noticed passing mile 13, until it hit me, wow I just ran a half marathon. Only 5 miles to go. Then, as I passed mile 16, where I saw a man stop running, go to the side and smoke a cigarette, that it hit me; it is so much easier to run with the monkey off your back.

I hit mile 18 feeling great, knowing I could certainly run another 8 miles to the finish line. But this race wasn't a lynch pin, it was a training run, so I left the course with all that good vibration bottled up.

Last week I biked 120 or so miles, swam 4 or so miles, and ran the monkey off my back.

I call that a good week. Now it's off to the pool