The Spirit, and the Water, and the Blood.

I'm getting ready to go home for a couple days soon and I've been getting progressively more homesick. Some people think of food or family, I've been missing the ocean.
Today, the water gods repaid my loyalty to them by flooding my back yard.

In a couple weeks, I'm heading back to the beach to tour a sub and spend a couple days with the family- there was my birthday, Mother's Day, and Jopoppa's birthday so good timing all around.

I've been talking to a triathlete friend who's down there about meeting up while I'm home and he told me about his tri team. It pretty much embodies everything I miss about the beach, weekly Open Water Swims, biking flat safe roads, laid back beach atmosphere. I am really, really envious of that training group. The pictures of the ocean were enough to make me want to cry and call home. Don't get me wrong, DC Tri is great, but they are unquestionably focused on the elite athlete. Kind of like the difference between hashing and racing.
I'm not sure I could give up life in DC, but sometimes moving back is incredibly tempting, especially during the summer. No rowing to be had there, but the ocean ...

Since I've been kind of a sensitive royal PITA this week, I figured a night to myself was in order. If for no other reason than to spare everyone else my company when I'm this annoying. So I actually made it to church, and then to swim for the first time since the surgeries.

Swimming went surprisingly well. My goal was to make it through 500 yards no matter how ugly it was. I alternated 100 yards of freestyle with 100 yards of kickboarding and breathing drills. When I still felt out of sync, I went back to the old standby ... Kajagoogoo. I cannot explain why that works, it just does. The last 100 yeards I felt like I was swimming like I wanted to, if a little awkward. And I still am not an ambi-breather, but just being back in the water helped to center me a little.

This morning, I paid for that swim in spades. The shoulder is on fire, and icing not helping too much. We'll see what the PT has to say about it tomorrow.

Meanwhile, there's also a tri while I'm home. Registration is closed, and there's no way I could manage an ocean swim now anyways, but I might volunteer. If I have to be on the sidelines, I may as well be at the 50 yard line, right? And volunteering I will be a safe distance from the evil jellyfish.

http://www.coastalracing.org/
http://www.breezypointtri.com/

Germantown 5 miler

I needed to run 5 miles this weekend for the marathon training. I figure if I'm going to run, it might as well be on a supported course. It was really tempting to sign up last minute for the Marine Corps Half, but I've been feeling like I might be cultivating a kidney stone so I followed the training plan.

The last 5 miler I ran was also in Maryland, but it was pretty painful since I ran it the day after I got cleared for activity and like 11 days after my second shoulder procedure.

I got lost getting to the race site since the directions were not quite accurate, thank you race directors. And since they chose to not list an accurate location my Yahoo Maps directions were no help. I got there just in time to get my chip and run.

It was a beautiful day if a little chilly. I was wearing my long sleeve UnderArmor t-shirt from the Philly half to remind myself why I was up and in Maryland on a Saturday morning. The juggling runner was there, saw my shirt and asked if I had seen him at Philly. I said yeah, and a few other races, and even juggling he's beaten me every time. Juggling runner said to just keep running, that's all that matters.

I might add that not only did this guy beat me, he ran the Marine Corps Half the next day. Also while juggling.

The course was rolling hills which weren't too bad. I think I'm getting some strength back since they're getting easier. Thank you trainer Blaine, I will continue to do the accursed walking lunges :P

I almost accidentally cut the course since they had us run around a parking lot and the marking wasn't very clear on where to go.

It was a small race, so the finish wasn't huge, but hey free bagel. One thing though, I had requested and paid for a performance shirt but they didn't have any at all, and the race director was nowhere to be found when I asked about it. I even checked my receipt when I got home, and I'm not crazy, I did pay for a tech shirt.
It was a nice way to spend a Saturday morning, but I'm not sure I'd do the race again.

When I got home I begged Louie the walker hound to let me sleep for a half an hour, then took him for a two mile walk after eating half of my free bagel.

Peppers weren't that hot, softballs aren't that soft ...

Louie is S's dog. He's some kind of hound and very sweet and cute. He doesn't generally bark, and is a little too smart for everyone's good. He knows what is most important to you/your favorite and will find a way to access said object/paperwork/shoe and chew on it thus showing you his displeasure at being left alone while you are out having all the fun at work.

My plan was to run with Louie as much as possible, both because it's sort of like a doggie treadmill what with him pulling me down the street/into the bushes/ towards every blonde girl in sight, and because I was hoping if I wore him out, he would be too tired to eat anything in the apartment.

So Thursday I took Louie dog for a 45 minute jog around the neighborhood then ran off to a fundraiser dinner at Los Tios for church. Veggie fajitas, how do I love thee. Then I fell prey to the classic "Hey this is awful, try it!". Generally speaking I like spicy food. Not so much spicy hot, but spicy flavorful. Jopoppa however, loves all things hot and spicy. We used to grow habaneros in the back yard, and then they were in everything we ate for months. Because 1. peppers are the cockroach of plants, they can survive a nuclear holocaust. and 2. while the birds loved the figs and plums they wouldn't even get near the habanero bushes. Jopoppa can't really smell or taste anything anymore ...

So I got roped into eating some mystery green chile suace. Actually kind of good on the taco chips. Two keys to eating hot foods: eat with bread or milk products, chase with citrus.

Then it was off to softball with the church league. I was really hoping the game would be called for rain since I was really tired and wanted to get home in time to watch LOST. One girl from the opposing team turned out went to VT with me, and we knew each other from some sorority thing. Truth be told, I seem to recall I might have beaten her at some lame pseudo-sports charity thing like joust at Gold Rush or something. Hopefully I was nice about it. She didn't seem scarred or nervous, so I guess so.

Anways, so petite blonde VT girl is covering second base. Our runner is trying to avoid the tag and slide into the base. Instead he full on tackles her face first into the dirt. Hilarious, since no one got hurt. And very, very awkward for them.

I hit a couple grounders, a decent hit which was unfortunately caught, and a pop-up which I thankfully remembered to just run this time. All in all 3 runs, about 12% of our total scoring. I'd really like to up that number to 20%, but I need to get to the batting cage.

On one of the hits, I had eventually made it to second, batter gets a hit and I'm running for third. This cute little blonde girl is throwing to the 6'2" husky third baseman and beams it and clocks him in the face/neck with it. I have no idea how that didn't either break his jaw or knock him out. That seriously looked painful.

In the end, they beat us 22-20, and it was the most fun I've had at a softball game ever. Glad it didn't get rained out after all even if I did miss LOST.

Paging Dr. Freud

I had my first triathlon dream in a long time last night. I think brought on by: too much pizza for lunch, Zyrtec, and resisting the urge to strangle my swim coach and a couple other tri-people.

Background: I had signed up for Columbia, then unexpectedly had another surgery. I was going to volunteer, but that process was even less well organized than the race.

The dream:
I'm at Columbia all sleek fitness and ready to go. First indication that this is a dream. Somehow I had already done the swim. Even sleeping I put off swimming. I'm biking and doing great when I almost fall, realizing I blew a tire. Not got a flat, but a full scale blow out like tractor trailers get. I pull over and someone who is apparently support crew for me helps me get my tire off but we can't fix it. The tire is all misshapen and not uniform, almost triangular. I know my race is screwed but I'm begging and arguing with the organizers to let me at least complete the run because either way I need the workout. I'm also trying to make sure that they mark me as DQ'ed so I don't ruin someone's chances of winning. Catholic guilt pervasive even in the subconscious. I'm off and running, and come back just in time to see my car towed. I'm chasing the tow truck and yelling when I "wake up" and realize that it's just a dream and that I'm taking a post-race nap and that I'm in my car. Some other random stuff involving eating dinner (again focused on food even sleeping) and then I really do wake up.

Seriously, if I'm going to dream about tri, why can't it be a good dream? Like I'm a pro triathlete who's won Kona and shagging a NHL player who has a PhD in astrophysics?

Brick nic

Saturday I volunteered at the Tri club brick-nic out at the Columbia course.

Brick: a workout combining two out of three successive events in a triathlon. The most common is a bike-run brick, although some (crazy) people practice aquabricks too. This involves a long bike ride followed by usually a shorter run. So named because your legs feel like bricks for the first couple miles you run.
Brick-nic: Brick workout followed by a picnic. Because you are a really cheap date once you've just biked and run 46 miles. And at that point you can pretty much eat anything you want.

I didn't go to anywhere nearly as exotic as Wildflower, but getting to Ellicott City was an adventure. Since I'm still broken, I signed up to watch gear at the Columbia brick-nic. I didn't realize I had also signed up to be Mom for a day. The signature Columbia Triathlon is held at Centennial Park, which is confusingly NOT in Columbia, but Ellicott City. The park was pretty busy with a fishing competition, some sort of pink laden festival, and a NAMI walk for mental illness. The walk ended up using the same path as the run for a while which sort of sucked for everyone involved. I'm sure the NAMI people were wondering if they were hallucinating or if they were being invaded by a bunch of spandex wearing aliens, and the triathletes couldn't fathom anyone else having the right to use the lake path. Kind of cross purposes for all involved. Hopefully the NAMI people are okay with us since we gave them millions of leftover cupcakes, donuts, etc.

On paper, I had signed up to watch over everyone's three thousand dollar bikes while they ran. I had thought I would study for the GRE while I was there but no such luck.

The GDP of a small country

It was 75 and sunny when I left Vienna. When I got to Centennial Park, it was maybe 50 degrees. Thank you Will for bringing coffee and being kind enough to share it with me. And yes, fellow mad scientist, I am drinking out of a periodic table of elements mug.

To become a volunteer saint you must perform three momacles. Since it was unexpectedly so cold, my first momacle was to procure clothes for everyone so they wouldn't freeze on the bike. This is why I keep so much stuff in my car. You never know when you'll need a trainer mat and a "What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?" sweatshirt.

My next momacle was to herd triathlete cats into putting their 3K bikes and their transition bags along the wall, not next to the bikes. Also, convincing everyone to check in and out with the other volunteers. I channeled Jopoppa on this one, "It's your body they'll find on the edge of the road ... Check in so we know if you died ..." I got a smart ass "Any more rules and regulations?" from one tri guy. "Yeah, you can call me ma'am."

Because I said so.

My third saintly momacle was to patch up a friend who lost an argument with his pedal leaving him looking like he'd tangled with a wolverine. Back to the mom-mobile for the first aid kit. Cleaned it out, put some neosporin on it, used about a million non-Hello Kitty bandaids. All while "Mr. Army I've been to Ranger school" flinched from the sight of his own blood. Someone asked how old my kids were. I do not have children, I only have adult roommates and triathletes and occasionally engineers.

My reward for achieving Tri canon status? Winning a Podium Quest hydration system which I tossed back into the volunteer reward ether since I don't have aerobars, and I'm sure someone else would give it the home it deserves.

Around 2pm, everyone had come back in and was eating so I took off for a jog around the lake. It had warmed up a LOT by then, and I spent most of the loop wondering why: 1. didn't I run when it was 50 degrees out, 2. why am I running a hilly course when my races are both pancake flat, 3. didn't I eat something besides a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal all day?
But it was a beautiful day, and fun to explore a new place.

Later, after everything had been cleaned up, I suckered a friend into coming down from Baltimore and going paddleboating on the lake with me. K might be the only person I know who is more accident prone than I am. Somehow, he almost fell into the lake while getting into the moored paddleboat. It was a lot of fun and surprisingly tiring. Then, we took a walk around the lake, and checked out the cherrybration. We saw a living statue of Joan of Arc which I wish I had photographed, scored a free Ryka dry-tech t-shirt from the Iron Girl booth, and replacement bandaids from the Johns Hopkins booth. All in all a good day.

Finally I am not lost.

Penalty tent for drafters

One loop = one brownie

Hey baby, I'm a clydesdale

That's me in the middle.

Credit to Jeanne for the photos. See her blog for an amusing take on the participant's view.

These 20 commandments ...

I had signed up for the GW 10 miler with S on Sunday. Given the bad Juju of our floor, she wound up with a knee injury, I had another shoulder surgery, and neither of us could recover for that distance in time.

I had planned to give my race number and stuff to A, but she flaked out on picking it up from me the two times I went to DC to get it to her. So now I have an extra t-shirt and green grocery bag. S didn't understand why I couldn't wear the shirt, and I couldn't adequately explain how this is against the unspoken code of running geek ethics/superstitions. So I bestow upon you "The Rules":


Ripped from Big Bad Ben's Blog and edited as necessary:

In the running and triathlete community the wearing of race T-Shirts has become a sign of accomplishment and fashion. Choosing just the right T-Shirt for that special occasion can be a daunting and difficult task. The following guidelines have been compiled (in fun), to help the responsible T-shirt wearer avoid potential embarrassment and/or elevate their perceived status in their athletic community.

1. A shirt cannot be worn unless the wearer has participated in the event. There is an exception, though: volunteers are exempt.

2. Any race tee, less than a marathon distance, shouldn’t be worn to an ultramarathon event. This goes double for the wearing of sprint-tri shirts to Ironman and Half-Ironman events. It simply doesn’t represent a high enough "cool factor " and sends a red flag regarding your rookiness. It's like taking a knife to a gunfight. It's probably best just to wear a generic name-brand athletic shirt, and go hide in a corner until race time.

3. When you are returning to a race in which you have previously finished, then wear the shirt from the first year you completed the race. Don’t short-change yourself by wearing the shirt from the year before. It doesn’t adequately display the feat of accomplishment or the consummate veteran status that you are due.

4. Never wear a race event shirt for the (same) race you are about to do. Only rookies do this. It displays a total lack of integrity and might put the bad-heebee-jeebee-mojo on you for the race. Wearing a T-shirt of the race, while currently running said race, is discouraged. It’s like being at work and constantly announcing "I'm at work!". You may not wear the race shirt until 30 days past the date of the race.

5. Never wear a shirt from a run that you did not finish. To wear a race shirt is to say "I finished it". Exceptions: see guideline #1.

6. A DNF’er may wear a race shirt if... the letters DNF are boldly written on the shirt in question (using a fat Sharpie or a Marks-A-Lot). It is also acceptable to have a large-X across the name of the race on the T-shirt. While an X on your race number is associated with a drafting penalty in a non-drafting, typically Ironman races, it will stimulate discussion and you get a chance to explain why you DNF'd.

7. During a race, the wearing of shirt from a previously completed year is acceptable. Wear the oldest T-shirt you have from that race (see guideline #3). This is probably a good practice because you now have no excuse to drop out since you’ve done it before.

8. Volunteers have full T-shirt rights and all privileges pertaining thereto. So there. Remember, you can always volunteer for a race and get a shirt. I encourage this as your civil duty to be a member of the running community. Races don't happen without volunteers, folks.

9. No souvenir shirts: therefore, friends or anyone else not associated with the race may not wear a race shirt. If your mom thinks that your Boston shirt is lovely, tell her to QUALIFY for Boston herself, & send in her application early for next year, so she can earn her own shirt. A downside to this: she still has plenty of time to write you out of her will between her training runs for the big race. Note that your mom CAN wear your finisher's shirt under one of these 4 conditions- 1) you still live with your mother; 2) she funded your trip to the race; 3) she recently bailed you out of the slammer; or 4) All of the above.

10. Always wear the race shirt of your last race at the current race’s pre-race briefing. The more recent the race, the better. This is a good conversation starter. However, avoid the tendency to explain how that it was a training run for this, and this is just a training run for the next, etc. It just sounds like your rationalizing mediocre performances. Sometimes it’s best to live in the here and now.

11. Your t-shirt should be kept clean, but dried blood stains are okay, especially if it is a trail race or a particularly tough event. If you're an ultrarunner, you can even leave in mud and grass stains, (and porcupine quills). Not washing-out the skunk scent is pushing the macho thing a bit too far, though.

12. Never wear a T-shirt that vastly out-classes the event you're running. It’s like taking a gun to a knife fight. Or like unleashing an atomic bomb among aboriginal natives. You get the idea.

13. Also: never wear a blatantly prestigious T-shirt downtown or at the mall among non-running ilk. People will just think you have a big head, which you do. You'll also get stupid questions, like, "how long was that marathon?" If it's a shirt to a 50 or 100-miler, they'll think it's a shirt for a cycling event or just think you're totally nuts, which (of course), you probably are.

14. Never, ever, borrow a race finisher's shirt from another runner to wear to an event that you didn't run. If you do, remember that in Dante's Inferno, he wrote about a special Hell for characters such as you; right between Tax Collectors and Lawyers.
Corollary- no purchasing race medals on e-bay either.

15. Never wear a shirt that has more sponsors listed on it than people that ran in the event. (Are you listening, race directors?) A shirt with too many sponsorship logos on it is just plain ugly. If you're a race director, and have scored that many sponsors, how about sharing the wealth? By the way, you can let ANYONE wear this ugly shirt; non-finishers and distant relatives, alike. If you respect your friends, kids, spouse, or mother, though, you won't let any of them wear it. It would serve well as bedding in your kid's gerbil cage.

16. Never wear a shirt that has any sponsors on it that you don't agree with. For instance, if you're a Vegan, you shouldn't wear a shirt that proudly advertises "Omaha Steaks" on it. If you wear this shirt, the "Karma Gremlins" will catch-up with you . I swear that's why I fell and broke my nose in my last 50-mile trail run, or why I had plantar fascitis for most of '99. I never should have ran in the 1998 "Fantastic 4-Miler." Why would they enlist a sponsor from an North Korean land-mine manufacturer, anyway?

17. If an event is cancelled at the last minute, but the event shirts were already given out, you can't wear the shirt unless you actually ran the race on that day. This means you will have to run your own unsupported event, through snow storms, hurricanes, or whatever lame excuse the Race Organizers came up with for cancelling said event. If you still want to wear the shirt, you have to mark it with a sharpie, "I didn't run this lousy event, and I'm all the better for it, thank you," across the front of it.

18. This next one is a big one, and has something to do with the need for more good taste and asthetics in this sometimes ugly world. Never wear a shirt that is so old, thin, and threadbare that you can see the color of your nipples or chest hair through it. This seems to be just a "guy thing," especially and old-codger-runner-guy thing. Here's the test guys: if you're too scared to machine-wash your 1978 Tab Ten-Miler shirt for fear of it wafting down the drain as meer subatomic particles, then it's probably too transparent to wear in public. If you can (still) remember your great performance at that particular day and you want to save it for posterity, PLEASE have it framed so that you can keep it on the wall of your den or your "I love me" room, and (at least) out of public view. Better yet, have it sewn into a quilt. You can then sit on your couch and read back-copies of Runner's World, cuddled up with your "runner's binky," with a glass of warm milk.

19. By the way, if you don't know what terms like DNF or volunteer are, then you shouldn't wear any race shirt until you know what they mean, and you shouldn’t have any meaningful relationships, either. You should probably become a hermit and/or New Age "Tantric" runner, sitting at home in the lotus position performing virtual marathons in your mind, while sniffing used GU packets, incense, and patchouli.

20. If you've finished the Longest Day, or any full Ironman distance event, then wear the T-shirt as often as possible, since these races are so damn hard.

T-shirts must be used sensitively. Worn responsibly, they can help expand one's consciousness and immerse you in a great conversation with your running brethren. Worn stupidly, they can cause fright, horror, vacant stares, sprained ankles, and general social unrest. Don't be a "T-shirt Terrorist." Follow proper T-shirt etiquette to do your part for world peace.

Linked in

Sunday I had a group golf lesson through Things to Do DC. I had played a few times then I got into triathlon. Triathlon turned out to be a jealous girlfriend who demanded all sunny weekends. Now that I'm trying to restore a little balance, I wanted to get back into golf.
So Sunday morning I trekked up to Olney, MD to meet up with Max and get some pointers.

Our instructor was an adorable New Zealander who even had a Kiwi (bird) golf club cover. He did a great job explaining things in plain English, or at least simple terms :)

Kiwi: So what other sports do you play?
Me: Well I come from a hockey background.
Kiwi: Yeah, I can tell. You have the Happy Gilmore swing.

I had no idea but apparently I was taking a step every time I drive. So unless I'm going to chase someone after I take my shot I should quit doing that.

My other favorite moment:
Apparently some people lose their balance after driving so they stumble backward, pretend they did it on purpose and put their hand on their hip to watch the ball. This is called the "I'm a little teapot" finish. The name alone is enough to shame most people into fixing their weight distribution.

Putting and chipping were easier as those are pretty close to hockey. The pointers on where to have the ball in relation to my feet, and whether to put my weight on my front foot or my back foot helped a lot.

Sunday was cold. And misty so I never really got warm since I was damp the whole time. And since I got lost in Rockville on the way there, I didn't have time to stop and get Starbucks. However, you could temptingly see Starbucks from the upper deck of the driving range. Calling to us like a beacon in the cold.
After we were finished, Max and I agreed that food would be good, and coffee was imperative. We stopped at a hole in the wall Greek place where I was able to get decent spanikopita, and baklava to go. I was happy with my cardamom tea until we were leaving and realized they had turkish coffee. Doh!

Today I am sore in random patches of my shoulders and back, but I'm ready to go again soon. Maybe not until next week though.