Day-to-day life, Family, Kids, Racing, Travel

2019: My year according to … me.

I did a pretty deplorable job this year, keeping this thing up to speed. Every time I’d start to write, I’d get about 3-4 lines down and the- ooh something shiny over there! And voila! Another unfinished draft post added to the list of topics I started to write about but couldn’t quite finish.

So, mostly for myself, I thought I’d smash 365 days worth of thoughts/events/recaps/listicles into one year-end post. That way, I figure I’ll have something tangible to look back on for 2019… rather than all those judgy, unfinished drafts staring back at me, waiting to be tackled.

(editor’s note: I will delete them in 2020. Clean slate!)

These past few years, I’ve tried to give myself a vague goal of planning something fun each month. I’ve learned that I love having something – big or small – to look forward to. Some of these are clearly a little more look forward-to worthy than others. I can’t truly remember what 2017 or 2018 ended up looking like, hence me forcing myself to commit it to … the screen. I debated about posting this. While proof-reading, it really drove home how lucky I am. I felt this vague need to apologize for all the fun (or at least, I consider it fun) stuff I get to do. But then, I’d be apologizing for living my life. And that’s silly.

Please be forewarned that this post will read alternately like:

  1. A very poorly edited travel blog;
  2. A scented journal written by a 12 year-old in sparkly pen (wink, wink @bopstardom)
  3. A humblebrag;
  4. Utter nonsense to anyone but myself. Which I’m completely fine with. ‘Tis my domain, after all.

So, without further ado, here’s a peak inside my very own memory lane.

January

I really thought I’d kick off January with a bang. I think I succeeded… but not in the very best way.

Things turned around when we hit the beach. I relished the time with the kids somewhere that saw them really just act like kids, and less like small humans trying to be too cool to be with mom. We read books, built sandcastles, ate fish and checked off one “touristy” thing a day. I get in trouble for saying that “holidays with kids is just parenting except somewhere hot” and yet… it felt different. In a good way.

February

I like to say there’s nothing redeeming about February (sorry Brad). It’s dark, it’s cold and incomplete. It feels like spring is far away, and winter has only just really set in.

But, there’s a silver lining! It also kicks off the race season. In 2019, the First Half was unseasonably cold but I got to run it with the 2 running partners I’ve had the pleasure of knowing since we started these runs with 1 shared gel 17 years ago

I also travelled to Montreal for my dad’s 80th (!) birthday and what would end up being my final trip to Tampa (foreshadowing)

March

2 big deals… my first born turned 13 #ohmygodihaveateenagernow. He’s taught me a lot about the world and myself, he knows how to push my every last button, he’s almost taller than I am and… I love him to bits and hope that one day he will read this and blush.

Then, I ran my first Ultra! It was snowy and sunny and not what I expected in any way. I had no expectations and 50k is a long way to go on your own 2 feet. I can say that I am proud that I actually pulled it off.

March was topped it off with a visit to what triathletes affectionately call the “Dirty-T” to ride some trails that are really all just out to get you, with 2 of my favourite people. I learned lots of new things about Phish and the Grateful Dead and yet I’m still here to tell the tale. I’m also plotting my return.

April

My groundhog day event that also kind of lets me be a tourist in my own little hamlet. It was my 4th or 5th… maybe 6th? Whistler Cup.

And then we wrapped that up and moved right along to…

Viva España!

The first work trip of the season was a dream. Great company (hi, work husband!), amazing country and, really, I could go on and on about the coffee. I won’t, I’ll spare you.

I think my favourite thing about travelling somewhere completely different is how quickly we are able to adapt to being out of our element. Day 1? Fish out of water. Day 4? I feel local, ask me a question as a test. On my way to catch my flight home? Oh, I live here now, sí.

You know when you find those colleagues who make you laugh for absolutely no good reason? Find those colleagues and hang on tight.

May

An overlap with April really, since I didn’t get back from Spain (literally and jet-laggy) till mid-May.

Problem solved by a quick mission to the Sunshine Coast and reintegrating into real life with my people. The kind of getaway that only involves plans insofar as “what will we ride today?” and “is there any more coffee?”

Then I broke a few ribs (whoops!) and didn’t finish a mountain bike race that I started.

June

The pace seems to change in June. We’re all anxious for school to be done (each of us for our own reasons). The calendar gets a bit busier and a little less predictable. The days get blissfully longer and warmer. Events and work ramp up.

The flip of the calendar also meant the start of triathlon season! Xtri Whistler was a great return to dirt – I highly recommend it!

And Will, my aforementioned teenager “graduated” from his elementary school. 

There aren’t a lot of kids anymore who get to experience their formative school days with the same tight-knit group of pals for 7 years. I hope that one day, they will realize how lucky they are. Living is a small town has many perks; I consider this to be one of them.

July

For the last 6 years, July has been a lycra-clad, sleepless, spreadsheet-hell blur. Ironman Canada would trump all, I’d work a ton and essentially let my children parent me/themselves and rely on everyone in my world to help in any way they could.

Sidebar: my friends are truly incredible and know how to make me laugh in the best possible and also most inappropriate ways.

This year was no different, but it came with the added twist that this was to be the race’s final iteration in Whistler.

It was… bittersweet. That’s it for now on that.

August

The greatest part of August is that we challenge ourselves to cram 8 weeks of summer into the remaining 3.5 weeks before the return to class.

We spend a lot of time at the lakes while baking in the Pemberton heat… we bike… we do a whole lot of nothing (in fact, my most favourite day last summer was an afternoon spent on the deck with the kids and their friends, during which we did exactly nothing. Absolutely glorious).

I capped it off but a European adventure that melted into September. We have (dangerously) cracked the seal on racing in Europe (foreshadowing on September)…

The Euro Redemption tour of 2019  started with some lost luggage and delayed flights (my travel mojo follows me closely), a visit with one of my oldest and greatest friends, exploring the countryside on two-wheels and rekindling my love affair with rosé.

From there is was a work trip to  one of the prettiest and also priciest (!) spots over there. Trains! Chocolate! Tiny hotel rooms! Belly laughs! Police escorts (long story)!

September

I like to be juvenile and pretend that September is my birthday month (because it is). What better way to celebrate a birthday than racing a World Championships in the south of France with your twin? Yeah, I pretty much nailed my birthday month.

The race itself wasn’t a performance of a lifetime. But it was memorable for the venue, the company and the experience. Say what you will about triathlon and its odd little community, it has brought me fantastic opportunities and introduced me to my closest friends.

Plus, I got to come home to some spectacular trail runs with my village.

October

We went to Kona and it was ridiculous. In a good way! Sun. Coffee. Bikes. Underwear. Volunteering. A fake wedding. All things triathlon. Will we top this in 2020? It’s gonna be tough but I am willing to work for it.

ALSO! Anja ran her first 10 k trail run which was both awesome and adorable.

November

November is like February’s ugly red-headed step child. Seriously. Out here, it’s dark and gloomy. Kids are tired. I’m tired. I scour the internet for last-minute get aways.

I pretty much nailed it this year… a restorative girls trip to Montreal with a surprise detour to New York. To watch Anja wander, wide-eyed and amazed, through the crush of NYC was so worth it.

Tip: make sure your life includes people who are there for you, not matter what. The kind of people with who you can reconnect after not seeing each other for a year or so and it feels like no time has passed. Everyone needs people like that. 

December

Happy Holidays, y’all…

Epilogue

While this journal entry was completely self-indulgent, writing this made me realize that I really do lead a charmed life. I have my share of tough bits and heartache (don’t we all?) My highs are high and my lows are low – just like everyone else out there. I’m not unique, or exceptional in this way. I am learning to be grateful for all of it.

Most importantly, I am surrounded by people who know how to pick me up if I am down, whom I can lean on when I need to and I’m learning to ask for help (sometimes. This is a  work in progress). I’ve got a great “modern family”, who alternately make me laugh and make me crazy and because of that, my sense of humour remains intact through it all.

Bring it on, 2020. Whatcha got?

#best9

 

 

Race Report, Racing, Travel

NYC, take 2.

What a difference 1 week makes.

It’s a day off here, and I’ve just returned from a light trail run with Will. This exact time last week, I was lying on an airport floor, with swollen legs and and tired eyes.

I think my legs felt better on that airport floor than they do today. That’s normal, right?

I’m not much for race reports these days, but I figure 1 marathon every 9 year gets itself a nod.

Highlights (in no particular order…)

  • It’s New York City! Duh.
  • Surprising my brother with the arrival of his best friend – see, we *can* keep secrets!
  • The food. Oh, the food. All of it.
  • Cheering Nick + Steph in their 20,000+ runners 5k!
  • Citibikes. These things made getting around easy and oh, so fun. Dangerously fun.
  • Spending good times with my brother and sister-in-law, who ran the marathon in her imagination and crushed it.
  • On that note, Stephanie wearing my medal and reaping the rewards that came with it (champagne, anyone?) made those 42.4kms completely worth it.
  • The noise. The endless, ceaseless noise that I both loved and made me appreciate my quiet country home all the more.
  • Sitting around on Staten Island, 3 hours before my start or so, watching the German runners enjoy a lung-expanding cigarette, pre-race.
  • Despite the aforementioned 3 hours, almost missing my start. I blame Janet.
  • All of those completely random moments and encounters that happen when you take a trip and make zero plans (with the exception, in this case, of running a marathon).
  • Seeing my crew out on the race course – being able to pick them out of a crowd of literally 1 million people for a high five? Amazing. Bobby, you’re an amazing guide.
  • Getting stuck on the other side of Central Park post-race turned out to be a highlight, too. 1 friendly cop + 1 citybike + 1 foil blanket made for a highly entertaining bike ride on tired legs.
  • Parking that same bike and walking into the restaurant to cheers from my friends, which led to cheers from everyone. It was both embarrassing and awesome. Because, come on.
  • The feeling that everyone in this enormous city is behind this event.
  • I’ve probably left out 47 highlights that I’ll remember at 3am.

 

The race itself, the raison d’être for this whirlwind trip, was unexpectedly, well… amazing. I came into it with low expectations, that’s for sure. I wanted to beat my pregnant time of ’09 (4:14 or so?), and have fun.

Before we even started, I think I had the fun portion pretty dialled. My training had been minimalist (that’s a nice term for short AF), but I got to the start line with no aches and pains, and a plan to eat a lot. That was it.

My train of thought for the entire duration of the race was summed up as: “Hmm. This feels too easy. Should I be worried? This pace seems fast. But it doesn’t hurt. So, now what? Ok. Eat. I’ll eat. High fives to that guy, that kid, that granny. I still feel good. WTF is going on? Am I going to hit the wall? If I hit a wall, Liz is going to roll her eyes so hard. Shiiit.”

And on and on these thoughts swirled. Yet, I never hit that infamous marathon wall. I ran under a banner at mile 22 that literally said “THIS IS THE WALL”… and, nothing. In fact, I kind of sped up. I guess I just wanted to be done and savour that beer.

I crossed the line with a big smile, a time of 3:35 and a feeling of ‘mission accomplished’.

What’s with the Texas                        Longhorns?!

Lowlight

  • Getting sick when we got to NYC sucked. But I think it sucked more for my friends because I guess I could sleep through all my own snoring and also, Sudafed got me to that start line.
  • That’s literally the only lowlight.

I won’t run another (road) marathon for a long while, I don’t think. This one has my heart, for sure.

So, on that note. Boston 2020, what’s your city bike situation like?

Race Report, Racing, Travel, Triathlon

70.3 miles of southern goodness. And then some.

When I qualified for the 70.3 Worlds way back in April, it was a very pleasant surprise. I took my spot, paid my money and then pretty much put the idea out of my mind.

Summer went by in a flash. My time was filled with work, training and many happy distractions.

Every few weeks, Liz and I would text each other a quick note regarding the race: sometimes it was logistics or a question about training, but usually, it was something along the lines of HOLY SHIT WE’RE GOING TO TENNESSEE.

It only really dawned on me about 10 days before the race that we were really doing this. We were going to Chattanooga to race in the world championships.

I had no idea what to expect other than knowing the swim would be tough as it was partially upriver, the weather was going to be hot and the field very talented.

Fast forward to last Thursday, and we stepped off the plane in Nashville, only to pretty much drive straight to a Waffle House.

Kicking it off in style, y’all.

The day before the women’s race (we had our own day all to ourselves, the men raced Sunday) we arrived at the race site for the practice swim in the river. The place was jammed and I wanted to vomit at the thought of fighting the current for 860m. Let me just say that swimming downstream was may more fun.

Post-swim, I was still very nervous about the whole race thing the following day, but I threw time goals out the window upon getting a feel for things and vowed to race to my ability and, more importantly, smile till my face hurt more than my legs.

I couldn’t believe how great the southern hospitality was, how kind and generous the volunteers were and what a great vibe surrounded the event.  It felt different from any other race I’ve done, and it made me feel like this exercise contest was a big deal. And ladies first? Yes, please. I am SO grateful we didn’t have to watch the men go first. Pretty sure I’d have packed up my shit and left town.

I’ll quickly break down the race itself.

Swim: 42:55 (putting me 189/230 AHAHHHAHAAHAHAHA)

It wasn’t terrible, I just swam terribly. Or, more accurately, I swam to my current level of swim fitness. I haven’t been in the water enough this summer, I’ve lost my feel and it showed. I felt fatigued when I finally made the down current turn. On the plus side? I swam straight AND I cannonballed in!

Bike: 2:54 (putting me 87/230 DO YOU THINK I LIKE BIKING?)

Absolutely awesome. And the best part? Shortly after the 10 mile marker, I heard Liz and I’s agreed upon theme song… which means that I got to ride a world championship bike course with my coach/training partner/brain twin. I am fairly certain no one else gets to do that. I loved how hard it was, even if it didn’t feel too terribly hard. I was determined to not overbike, like the good old days. I came off the bike feeling good, and ready to run. Or at the very least, strongly jog.

Run: 1:51 (putting me 79/230, I’ll take it).

Really, really hard. Never a dull moment, it was a roller coaster of terrain. BUT: I smiled my way through the entire damn thing. Coming down that final hill to the finish line, I was negotiating with my legs not to cramp, I was all emotional and giggling like a crazy person. I crossed that finish line absolutely elated.

Travelling and racing with your Brain Twin ™ is amazing: you don’t need to negotiate, you pretty much always know what the other person needs and you have a day drinking partner to debrief on the day with.

And, yes, we did very well in the day drinking department, too. Go us! I mean, our speed tour of Nashville may warrant a whole other post.

When I raced Oceanside 70.3 in April to qualify for this race, I burst into tears of unhappiness at the finish line. I didn’t have fun, or enjoy my day at all. I’ve thought about this a lot and was determined to change my mindset for Coeur D’Alene, and I wanted to race happy. Sometimes, when it hurts, you have to force the happy, but I can’t even describe how much better it makes things out there. I made friends, stupid jokes, mistakes and I had the best day.

My times were nothing spectacular. I’m used to being at the pointy end of races, so the result was, in a sense, a bit of a shock. But I don’t need be disappointed after the fact, or over analyze the results. I am so proud of the day I had.

And yes, my face hurt from smiling.

 

 

Day-to-day life, Travel

Home stretch

In approximately 56 hours, I’ll be flying home. Home sweet home. I can’t wait.

It’s feeling a little like the last few kilometres of a race: I am so ready to be done, and I can’t really remember too much about the start.

At home, one of my favourite things to do with the kids is to play “apples and oranges” over dinner. Or highlights and lowlights. We try to do this daily, when we remember. It’s applicable to my time here, I think.

So, herewith, are my apples and oranges from my time in Baku. In no particular order, some small, some big. I won’t assign a high or low, I’ll let you infer.

**

The weather. One day it’s humid, hot and sundress weather. The next I’m in 3 layers + a down jacket.

And the wind. Oh lord, the wind.

**

Our soviet-era dwelling, complete with faint smell of sewage and a stairwell that can only be compared so something from the set of “Lost”.

**

The constant, never ending, for no apparent reason, fucking honking.

**

Runs through narrow backstreets, dodging cars and stares, laundry, stray cats, random holes in the sidewalks, aiming to get lost, zigzagging my way through the old architecture mixed with new construction.

**

Re-connecting with some wonderful people. Meeting new ones who will remain friends. This month would have been vastly different without them.

**

Working through a language barrier that, at times, felt insurmountable. Never in my life have I used more hand gestures, scribbles and Google translate to muddle through both my day to day and my job.

My unique brand of Canadian humour didn’t always fly here.

**

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of sick of walking. I rarely get in vehicles here, walking just seems less complicated.

**

I want: fresh vegetables. Fruit that isn’t mealy. A giant salad. A grocery store I can make sense of. My regular, happy little comfy staples. I’m kind of done with rice cakes.

**

Why does construction have to go on all night here?

**

I’m quite surprised I haven’t taken up smoking. Or spitting on streets, for that matter.

**

Oh, to be in my bed, my glorious bed. In which I do not feel springs.

**

I miss nature. And green space that isn’t man-made. That I’m allowed to walk on.

**

Pantyhose. Nylons. Tights. Whatever you want to call them, it’s a wardrobe staple here, no matter the footwear. For that reason alone, I could never live here.

**

Constant noise. The quietest place I’ve found has been underwater.

**

I’m amazed that I’ve only witnessed 1 car accident. The drivers here are terrifying, and those are the good ones. I look back and can’t believe I considered bringing a bike #nochance

**

It’s been an experience here, no question. But it’s time for this homesick Canadian return to her people, and plan the next adventure. Maybe somewhere I speak the language.

Random, Travel

Mysteries of Baku – Volume 1

It’s windy here.

I’m not talking easy-breezy. I’m talking old-man-hold-on-to-the-building windy. Unpleasant, hurt your ears windy.

Easy breezy

If I’d done my research before coming, I’d have known that Baku is also known as the “City of Wind”.

Anyway.

One of the first things I noticed here was the abundance of little old ladies, sweeping. Sweep, sweep, sweep. With no real sense of purpose. Just sweep, sweep, sweep.

Most peculiar, is that they seem to sweep on the windiest of days. It appears really they are just swirling stuff around. The other day, when it was so windy that I literally had to lean into the gale to walk, they were everywhere.

The last 2 days have been calm. The little old ladies with their brooms? Nowhere to be found.

Mystery.

Travel

Bits ‘n pieces from Baku

I’ve been in Azerbaijan for 3 days now and I’m slowly getting my bearings. My type-A side stood down on this trip, so I did very little research before arriving, and therefore I had pretty much no idea what to expect.

Actually, scratch that. I googled whether or not there was Starbucks. It’s kind of like having a security blanket to latch onto. Except that they open at 9am. Yeesh.

Anyway.

So far, Baku has managed to both delight and confound. I suppose that’s to be expected when you take a girl living in a mountain town, population 3000 and send her halfway across the world.

I mean, you can’t cross some of the streets: you have to take an escalator and go under them. Jaywalking? Not a “thing” here. Gold teeth? Totally a “thing”. Short girls with really short blond hair? Not a “thing”. Smoking? Still a “thing”.

Today, jet lag loosened its grip a little bit and I went exploring the best way I know how: by running. I woke up feeling a little bit homesick, and it seems that getting out helps a little.

The waterfront is lovely, and as I passed by walkers, runners and any number of security guards, my head swivelled around I made a mental list of things I wanted to figure out how to get to: that weird tower over there, those shiny buildings up there. It’s fun to plan adventures.

All in all, so far, so good.

I only got yelled at by a security guard once.

 

Day-to-day life, Family, Travel

On my team and in my corner.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. I suppose life is alway a little windy, but the last 30 days have vanished in a flash. Mixing training, work, racing away from home, jumping straight into a fairly big event, hiding/denying a cold and trying to find some quality time with my people  has led me to a big giant exhale…

… sitting on an airport floor, waiting to board an oversold flight to Baku, Azerbaijan.

This is totally one of those “it seemed like a great idea at the time” situations. I didn’t give much thought to the quick turnaround this adventure would require, but hey, here we are.

I kissed the kiddos goodbye as they left for school, and reminded them that I’d see them in 4 weeks or so. I was surprised and a little relieved that it was without a sense of dread and trepidation. There were no tears, no drama.

Don’t get me wrong: I miss them already with an ache that is physical. It’s hard to explain. I know from experience that it will fade a little but then come back with a vengeance just before I get home to them.

It was easier this time because, ironically, we feel like a little team and my little teammates totally have my back. When I’m in the thick of it, distracted by deadlines, obligations and work stuff, it makes me realize what a bunch of independent little humans we have raised, and how grateful I am for it. They don’t put up a fuss, it seems they know that they need to cut me some slack just when I need it most.

They get it. This is the life they know, and while it certainly isn’t perfect, it works for all of us.

The next few weeks will be filled with ridiculous text messages from Will, FaceTime homework sessions, rambling calls with Anja, breathless messages from Rory telling of his latest feat followed by I Love Yous and I Miss Yous and I’ll see You Soons.

This my team, they are totally in my corner, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Race Report, Racing, Travel, Triathlon

Oceanside 70.3: Perception vs. Perspective

As I crossed the line on Saturday at Oceanside 70.3, I dissolved into a puddle of tears. I immediately saw Jen and blurted “I’m so disappointed”.

Good lord. I felt like such a loser for crying at a finish line of an amateur event I had paid for the privilege of doing. I couldn’t even pinpoint why I was so bummed. I just was.

It took a couple of minutes to pull myself together, thankful for sunglasses to hide the evidence and the chance to meet new people and talk about something else for a bit.

Here’s how I perceived the day, “in real time”.

Swim: By the time I *finally* hit the water in the rolling start, I was shivering uncontrollably and so thankful that the water felt warmer than the air. Until the turnaround, I was a satisfied fish. And then.

*crack*

I caught an ankle squarely in the chin, bit my toungue hard enough that I could taste blood and inhaled a bunch of delicious, murky salt water. Then I barfed. So that was neat! Sorry to those fine folks behind me.

Eventually, staggered out of the water and jogged through what has to be the world’s biggest transition, fumbled around and rode away.

Bike: There was a tank crossing! I mean, Camp Pendleton and all. They take their armoury seriously, I suppose. I was pretty grumpy for a long time. I couldn’t find a rhythm, I couldn’t focus, and I was trying to stay within the zones that Liz assigned to me. I kept waiting for that sleepy, drained feeling I usually get. It wouldn’t come. Was I going too slowly? Bah. I couldn’t tell. I felt strong but I maybe I was tricking myself? Let’s just get this over with already.

Run: This was the dialogue in my brain:

Kilometers 1-15: TICK/TICK/TICK KEEP MY LITTLE FEET GOING TICK/TICK/TICK EAT SOMETHING THAT COKE WASN’T FLAT *BURP*

Kilometers 15.1-19.1: UUUUUUUNNNNNHHHHH NO NO NO NO MORE.

Kilometers 19.1-21.1: Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry if you cry you can’t breathe I think I’m making a really ugly face don’tcrydon’tcry dammit I think this course is long.

And then it was over.

Fast forward an hour or so. I didn’t know how (numbers-wise) the day had gone. I was still feeling pretty ambivalent about it and then I texted Liz… lo and behold, welcome the objective perspective.

She gave me her view on the event, “as seen from her bike”, as she virtually watched my race from the discomfort of her bike trainer. Her view was far more positive than mine and hearing that pulled me out of my funk. Maybe I didn’t need to quit this silly sport after all.

The reality is that I did indeed have a shit swim, but I put together a good bike and a solid run. I actually raced, like we’d talked about me doing. I didn’t give up, stuck to the plan. I have something to build on. Battled my own demons all day. I may not have won against them, but I held my own. It took me a few hours to realize that.

I still haven’t looked at the results, but I know that I ended up 7th, clawing my way back through the field after the swim. And while my goal had been top 5, I ended up with what I wanted: a spot to the World Championships.

By sheer force of waiting around.

Next up? Tightening my race director hat and getting back to it for Coeur d’Alene 70.3.

Oh. And a little month long jaunt to Azerbaijan.

I’ll wait while you look it up.

 

Day-to-day life, Travel, Triathlon

Blizzard of blahs

What do you know… something like 65 centimetres (25 inches) of snow has fallen in the last 48 hours. Granted, I was in a conference room in Florida when this all happened, but still. Winter is here to stay for the foreseeable future.

img_1041
It’s cruel when you can see it but you can’t actually touch it…

Is there anything redeeming about the month of February? I mean, besides the fact that it has 28 days instead of 31? Nope. January is all full of post-Christmas attitude and goals. March has hints of spring and noticeably longer days.

February? It’s got Valentines Day, and we all can guess how I feel about that.fullsizerender-1Somewhere between the end of January and now, I got sick again and have misplaced my mojo. My desire to stay under the blankets and daydreaming about warm sun and green grass is kind of overwhelming. I’d like to let my shoes and bike gather dust… but then I’m quickly reminded that I have a race to look forward to in about 7 weeks.

Maybe I’ll ski some neck deep powder this weekend and all will be right in the world again.

img_1071

Race Report, Racing, Travel

Moments in the Lone Star State

Can we all just agree that race reports are boring? Unless accompanied by a lot of photos and human interest filler, I lose interest pretty quickly. Mostly because tales of watts and nutrition bore me. So I shall endeavour to keep this short, sweet and with lots of photos and useless and completely unrelated movie quotes.

The lead up

As summer wound down, work slowed a little and the dependants went back to school, I was able to focus a bit more on training. It was… condensed. Not quite off the couch, but still. Am I getting too old to do it this way? Maybe.

The Lone Star State

Last time I went to Texas, I said I wouldn’t go back anytime soon. Well, surprise! I lied. Austin fit into my life, and as I’ve gone on and on about, I was super excited about my little camper.

Turns out travelling solo was fine, but it added an air of seriousness to the race that I didn’t really want. Part of racing is being social and hanging out with friends. In this case, I kind of folded inward and didn’t make much effort to be social. I did my thing, caught up on rest, read and pretended I could totally fit my life into tiny home living.

Talk to me, Goose.

Fast forward to race morning, and watching the fog settle onto the lake. I wandered aimlessly, peed behind trees (it was foggy! No one could see me!) and went to find friends working the race who could give me the goods. Sure enough, I learned the quick way to be careful what you wish for: swim cancelled… Surprisingly, I wasn’t super happy about this. I mean, I had a new wetsuit to try!

You’re ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash

Onto the bike, I thought I felt good. I trucked along, kept and eye on the über bumpy road and my numbers and, as it turns out, totally over-biked. Woo! Also, I hit myself in the face with a flying water bottle.

Good morning gentlemen, it’s 110 degrees

That about sums up the run. Heart rate sky high, melting from the inside out, running in circles through the rodeo grounds. Extremely grateful for the unicorn hat that created a little bubble. Also, my aim for cups into trash bins was exceptional at this race. Was it the most scenic of runs? Nooooo. Did I stick to my race plan? Also, nooooo. It wasn’t for lack of trying.

I refuse to pay $25 for this photo. Also, when this lucky bra disintegrates, I will cry.
I refuse to pay $25 for this photo. Also, when this lucky bra disintegrates, I will cry.

Great balls of fire

Stumble across the air conditioned finish line, see double for a few minutes, cool down, regain composure, meet up with friends, beer, burger, juan pelota, eat some more, netflix and bed.

All in all, just another Sunday in the Lone Star State.

Hello, off season.

Just the facts:

Swim: 0:00 PR

Bike: 2:42:10 Meh.

Run: 1:53 Oopsie Daisy.

6th AG.