Skinny skis

I live in Minnesota, which means that for what seems like half the year it is entirely too cold and gross out to bike and distinctly unpleasant to run.  This is upsetting to me, as it leads to undesirable activities like spin class and treadmill running.   Nonetheless, I persevere, looking forward to warmer days and sunny skies.   This year, however, I have embraced my inner Norwegian and taken up the fine sport of cross country skiing.   This is not my first foray into the sport of my homeland, but the last time I did any skiing was more than a decade ago when I was flush with the invincibility of youth and ignorance.   These days, I find myself overly concerned with the fragility of my bones and ligaments, though not entirely undeservedly.  

Elm Creek - Couldn't ask for a nicer day

Naturally, Owatonna has received very little snow, but our friends to the north in the Twin Cities have been more fortunate.   As such, my peeps and I have been heading northward on the weekends to take in the varied joys of the Three Rivers Park District trail systems.   I have to say, that in general, I am very impressed with the offerings they are able to put forth.  In particular, Elm Creek has become a favorite of mine, not the least because of the large fireplace in the chalet, which provides a fantastic place to sit and warm up after a chilly afternoon.  

The boys, showing how it's done, twinner style.  

As for the skiing, it's been a learning, or perhaps relearning, process.   The first day out was -- awkward.  With no confidence in my abilities and my aforementioned fear of breaking myself, even tiny hills were anxiety inducing.   Additionally, I had no idea how to go UP hills, which led to a rather humorous incident of sliding backwards down a particularly steep slope until finally tumbling to a stop.   Thank goodness for the kindness of a random woman who introduced me to the concept of stepping up a hill herringbone style.   Additional trips have increased my confidence and I have started to remember some of the more "advanced" techniques - snow plowing, for example.   I'm still pretty cautious, but it's been a blast.

Demonstrating my expert snow plow technique

The advantage of all this, of course, is that it's a fantastic workout, in addition to being fun.   While spin class is usually entertaining, it's not exactly the highlight of my day (well, it is, but mostly because my life is pretty dull this time of year).    Running outside can be fun, but the temperature range I'm comfortable running in pretty much stops in the mid teens.  I'll run outside in colder, but mostly just to prove I can.   Skiing, however, has the benefit of being such a butt kicking workout that even in downright frigid temps it's possible to be comfortable (and maybe even too warm!).   The only part of me that disagrees are my hands, which mysteriously have started getting painfully cold before I get my blood pumping.  I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I used to wear a size 10 ring, and now wear closer to a 7 1/2.  

That hill is a lot more intimidating in person...really, it is.

This past weekend was an exceptionally beautiful time to be out.   Both days graced us with moderate temperatures and a light dusting of fresh snow that made being outside feel like a privilege.   Sunday was interesting, as it was the first day I had been out where I was routinely coming upon other skiers.   As I'm still trying to figure out the mechanics of the sport, I'm not particularly fast, so I normally just wait for people to pass me by.  Sunday, however, I was going at a good enough clip that I was passing some people myself.   This led to one of the more surreal experiences I've had lately.   A woman came up behind me and was riding pretty close to me.  Eventually I had to stop, as I ran into a bad patch of track and needed to negotiate the edge to avoid falling.  As she passed me, she apologized, saying that she wasn't faster than me, but was faster on the downhills because she was heavy.   I nearly tripped, hearing words that I have said and/or thought a million times coming from someone (who wasn't that big), talking to me!  

Speedy!

Next week I'll have a post about the new year and my plans and hopes for it.  In the meantime, have a fantastic Christmas or holiday of your choice!

(Thanks to Randy for the action shots!)

Product Review: CW-X Stabilyx Tights

Well, winter is upon us, judging by the frigid temps as of late.  The upside is that we, seemingly for the first time in years, have snow on the ground before March.   Well, not much here in Owatonna, but up north an hour or so they have plenty, and we've never been shy about driving for our outdoor entertainment.   All of this has led me to make a purchase I've been thinking about for a few years - cross country skis.   I'm pretty excited, but still trying to remember what little I used to know about the sport and learning what I can from watching others and YouTube.  So, until I have something more entertaining to write on that front, I thought I would share my impressions of the tights I talked about a while ago.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, I have a nagging knee pain that likes to interfere with my activities.  While I have some idea of what I need to do to physically correct the issue, I felt I needed something to support my legs a little better to try and prevent future issues.   That's where my tights come in.   I did some reading and settled on the CW-X Stabilyx line, which claims to have a lot of support for joints, especially knees.

I really just never get sick of these...

I got a pair of awesome rainbow 3/4 length tights to start with, and began running in those shortly before my PR 5k from November.   I have to say, I was initially pretty skeptical, but my knees felt great while I was running in them.   I really like how they keep everything from moving when I run, especially as I still have a pretty heavy gait.   In the interests of science, I did a run with my normal workout tights to compare the before and after.  Not only did my legs feel worse while running, but also my knee ached for days after that run, where I had had no pain after running with the CW-X tights.  

After that test, I purchased a pair of insulated full length tights and another pair of 3/4 length tights so I could make sure I always had a clean pair to run in (TMI?).  The insulated tights fit a little tighter than the normal fabric, so if you are just at the edge of fitting into a size, you may want to size up in those.   I did a 5 mile run in single degree temps (with negative windchill) and was chilly, but fine.  I probably needed a wind pant for that temp range, but when the wind was behind me I was perfect.   Besides running, I've worn both the full length and 3/4 length tights cross country skiing.   Again, really nice to have that compression while out and about, and they make a decent base layer.  

Insulated tights - you can see the knee stitching here

So, bottom line time.  I love 'em.   If you have minor knee issues, it may well be worth trying them out to see if they can provide some relief.   While I by no means have completely eliminated my knee pain, it isn't interfering in my activity level at this time, I think due in part to these tights.  They are awfully spendy ($90 for the 3/4), but in my opinion well worth it.   The sizing chart seemed accurate to me, and others that I know have reported the same.

There's no place like...Kansas?!

Ah, Black Friday.   The sights, the sounds.   Gravel crunching under tires, crisp late autumn air,  hazy hills rising over an impressively blue lake.  Not exactly the scenes that were unfolding on CNN, but that's how I was fortunate enough to spend the day.   I have to say, the idea of going to Kansas for the long weekend seemed more than a little crazy when I first came up with it.  However, sitting on top of a rocky hillside looking over the Smoky Hills, I was glad a little crazy is pretty much par for the course for my life right now.

How on earth did I end up in Kansas, you ask?  The week before Thanksgiving, I was suddenly seized with a strong desire to be anywhere but my apartment over the long weekend.   And, I thought, if I was going to escape, it might as well be south, in search of more temperate weather.  So, I started searching.  The IMBA Epic rides page is my new go-to spot for travel ideas, and after looking through my nearby options, I settled on Switchgrass, in central Kansas.   Destination set, I needed to convince someone to go with me.    Fortunately, I have acquired a number of adventuresome friends as of late and one of them, Randy, was willing to pass up the turkey-filled coma of Thanksgiving for some mountain biking (and a lot of driving).

Naturally, we started the holiday off right with a quick race in Faribault, the IRIS Turkey Trot.   With that under our belts, we piled into the car and started our 9 hour drive through what may well be the least interesting part of the United States, the I-35 corridor.    We made it the many many miles to Russell, KS in a reasonable amount of time and then promptly collapsed to rest up for the next day.  

We had pulled in after dark, so when dawn broke I was treated to my first sight of Kansas.   It was flat.  Like, really flat.  Flat like no one who has ever called southern Minnesota flat could possibly understand.   I felt a flutter of unease--how on earth could there possibly be a trail worth riding here??  I reminded myself that it was an Epic and crossed my fingers that I hadn't just convinced my friend to drive 9 hours for a loop around a prairie.   Switchgrass is located in a state park that is approximately 20 miles from anything of note, so we headed to the local grocery store to pick up some provisions for the day before heading out.   While I have more or less become accustomed to wandering about in spandex in Minnesota, I did feel more than a little out of place in Russell.   Everyone was very friendly, though, even if my rear end was getting a bit more attention than I am comfortable with.  

Stocked up and ready to go, we made the quick drive to Wilson State Park.   The geography of this area is hard to explain.  It is called the Smoky Hills, and it is very hilly, in a short, squat sort of way.    From the interstate, you would never know this place existed, but suddenly these rounded hills rise out of the land, and you start to see lovely rock formations jutting out  of the landscape.  One local quirk:  apparently the original settlers, seeing a distinct lack of trees for fence posts, instead carved posts out of the rock.  Many of these fence lines still stand and are a point of local pride.  

Once at the trail head, we unloaded the bikes and got rolling.   It was quickly evident that this was going to be a different style of riding than I was used to.   The soil was a rich reddish color, and stones of varying sizes covered much of the trail.   Where the dirt wasn't hard packed, it was a loose sand that would sap speed, usually at the worst possible time.   The uphills were generally short, but they were made difficult by sharp turns and large rocks that needed to be cleared.   While there were sections that were mostly riding through the grass, it was just long enough to catch your breath before being presented with another rock garden or perilous climb along the edge of a stone cliff face.   I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the rock garden portions of the trail.  While they were definitely a challenge for me, I found myself beginning to understand how to maintain momentum through the sections.   Of course, this would promptly be ruined by some drop or descent that scared the willies out of me.  Small steps.



The landscape of the ride was beautiful, prairie covered hills with exposed rock faces colored with rich striations of red and brown.   The vegetation was fascinating to me, especially once Randy pointed out a cactus!   I didn't see any large game, but birds were everywhere.   I have never seen so many hawks in such a short period of time.    Also, there were HUGE flocks of birds that would rise up out of the grass like an undulating wave of black over the landscape until they disappeared over the horizon.   The centerpiece of all this was, of course, the lake.  It is billed as the clearest lake in Kansas, and I believe it.   Along the edges, there were various inlets, and naturally the trail followed some of them.  The water here was a deep turquoise that I typically associate with springs, a lovely color that contrasted fantastically with the rock faces.   I think that taking the kayak there would have been good fun, as there were many caves and other interesting features worn out of the walls of the basin.

A well earned break

Switchgrass is a 22+ mile trail from start to end.   While not super technical, there is a fair bit of climbing and riding over difficult terrain.  As such, I was pretty much dead in my saddle at mile 11.   I felt awful, because I could tell that I was getting slower and slower and poor Randy was spending more and more time waiting for me to catch up.   I asked to stop for a breather, and that helped, but it wasn't long before I was running on fumes again.  In retrospect, I should have brought something more substantial to eat on the trail (and some caffeine!), but I had never been out on something that long on the mountain bike, and I honestly had no idea how hard it would be.   Helpfully, there are stone markers every mile, so I could count down the end to my ride in agonizingly slow intervals.    As tired as I was, I knew that I needed to be more careful riding, as I was starting to make dumb mistakes.   Unfortunately, careful only counts for so much and, perhaps inevitably, I crashed out.   It was near the end of the ride, on the easy section of trail, but I hit a greasy spot on a corner and crashed hard.  

Initially, I thought I was just banged up, but otherwise OK.  However, once I got back on the bike, I found I couldn't grab my handlebar with my left hand.   In fact, every time I tried, I had pain shoot through my wrist, highly reminiscent of the pain that my ankle had given me after I sprained it.   As the post-crash endorphin rush wore off, the pain got worse and worse, until I finally stopped trying to hold the bar and all and just asked Randy to give me a heads up on any trail features that would require two hands.   In the midst of this, we finally hit the 22 mile marker.   I made Randy take a picture of me for posterity.

22 Miles!  (Notice the pained smile...)

Impromptu bike maintenance

The next day, I was more than a little concerned about my riding capabilities.   However, I had other matters to attend to first.  As I'm currently training to run a 1/2 marathon sometime in February/March, I needed to get my long run for the week in.   So, after some parking lot bike maintenance, Randy took off for a speed lap around the trail and I went for a trail run.   I took off along the EZ trail, tracing back along the path I had biked the day before.   I had a really fantastic run, and even added an extra credit mile to the end to make it my longest run ever.   I only tripped three times, and caught myself all three times.   (I'm not certain if I'm really clumsy or really agile - for the number of times I trip I certainly don't fall very often.)  After my run, I decided to give the hand a workout and after quickly switching clothes (just before some dude pulled in!), I headed out to give the rock garden another shot.

My second trip on the rocks went better than the first, even with a banged up body.  I was relieved to discover that I was able to hold on to the bike despite the injury, so I set about trying to get better at riding on rock.   Better is, of course, relative, and the fellow who pulled into the parking lot caught up to me just as I was attempting to navigate an intimidating section called the "Causeway".   There are several shortcuts built into Switchgrass that allow you to skip over the more advanced terrain.  Apparently, I looked like I needed advice, as this fellow "helpfully" pointed out to me that I could have skipped the section.   Hmm...thanks but no thanks.     I finished my loop (only 9 miles), and made it back to the parking lot shortly before Randy finished up his pounding of the 22 mile loop in what must have been some kind of beast mode riding effort.

Randy, triumphant

Well, this ended up longer than I thought it would!   Switchgrass was an awesome trip, and I feel very fortunate to have a friend willing to go do crazy stuff with me.   As I was running the trail, I had a moment of profound gratitude that somehow my life is now this - where I go to these amazing places and experience everything that there is on offer with friends who share my passion and joy in this amazing opportunity we are given.  

Race Recap - Athleta Unleash the SHE

A while ago I had suggested to my friends that we do the 10K run for Athleta Unleash the SHE.   It was after I had run Big Woods in my fastest 5K time ever, and I was feeling ready to move on to bigger and better things.  Shortly after that, my knee decided to hate me and that, I thought, was that.

After much more time off than I had been hoping, I finally started running again about two weeks ago.  I say started running, but really, all I was doing was a mile on the treadmill.  My knee was still shaky, but wearing my nifty compression pants seemed to help keep things in line and it didn't hurt while I was running, so I figured I was okay.  About this time, talk suddenly surfaced of people doing the 10K I had mentioned a month earlier.  

While I knew there was no way I could run the 10K, I was intrigued by the 5K.   Still, it seemed awfully risky to run a 5K with almost no running in the prior month and a bad knee to boot.   However, I've never been particularly good at being smart and the lure of doing a final run for the season was too great to overcome.  I told myself I'd take it easy, and if necessary, walk.   Just a fun outing with some friends.

The Girls!  (photo credit:  Dave Chabot)

Athleta Unleash the SHE, like it sounds, is a women's only run.   Still, it just wouldn't be right to be waking up obscenely early on a weekend without the guys, so Dave and Randy kindly agreed to be our sherpas for the event.   The day was chilly, but not terribly cold, though it was overcast and threatening rain.   The 10K started a half hour before the 5K, so I was able to cheer the rest of the girls at the start.

Something strange had happened after we got to Blaine (where the run was).  My earlier thoughts of a nice easy run evaporated in my faint embarrassment that I wasn't doing the 10K and suddenly I found myself telling people that I was going to try and PR the run.   Now, think about this for a moment - I had just had my best 5K a month or so before, but I had literally run less than 4 miles TOTAL since then.   My knee was iffy at best and rainbow tights or no, I was pretty sure I was going to be hurting by the end.    But yeah, I was going to PR...or as Randy helpfully suggested, "PR or ER".

After a longish half hour spent wandering about the sports complex that was hosting the run and getting colder by the moment, it was showtime.   I handed my jacket off to the sherpas and disappeared in the crowd.    I tried to get as far forward as I could, in part to stay warm and in part to avoid getting stuck behind the walkers.   The countdown went and we were off!

Despite my efforts, I was definitely stuck in the midst of the slower people.  I started passing as many as I could while still keeping a reasonable pace, but I had to stretch out and sprint a few steps around a few groups.   The course wound around the parking lot of the sports complex before heading out, so I saw the guys, but apparently I am super stealthy in my purple and rainbow tights so they didn't see me.    

The run was pretty uneventful, all in all.  The course was very flat, mostly sidewalk, and other than being pretty congested, nice to run on.  I settled into my pace (1-2-3-4-5-6), and zoned out a bit.  I do like to run with my eyes closed, which is probably unwise, but it works for me.   I did almost run into one girl, though.  Whoops!  The only iffy spot was a bit of sand that had washed out of a driveway, but certainly nothing to worry about.

I had no idea how fast I was running, but I felt pretty strong.  While I had said I was going to PR, out on the course my mind started wandering to my old goal of doing a sub-30 minute 5K this year.   It didn't seem likely, but it kept flitting through my mind how cool it would be to manage.   While I was pondering this, I decided that I was going to kick up my pace at the 2 mile marker and try and finish the last mile plus as strong as possible.   

The marker came, and even though I was feeling the distance (which was now my longest run in over a month), I kicked it up.   I started counting faster and telling myself that if I ran faster, the discomfort wouldn't last as long.   The end of the course once again wound through the parking lot, so I could see the finish line a bit before I was there.   I dug deep and found some extra kick to finish at a sprint, my insides twisting so hard I thought for sure I was going to be sick.    As I ran by the finish line, I saw the 10K clock said 57: something.   

After I settled my stomach, I milled around the finish area a bit, trying to find my peeps.  I felt like I had run a pretty good race, but with no clock to go by, I had no idea if that meant a PR or just some disappointment.   I located the rest of my people by the finish line, startling them, as they thought I hadn't finished yet.   As I said, purple and rainbow - super stealthy.   Thankfully, the guys take sherpa duty seriously, so Randy had my jacket on hand to ward off the chilly air as we waited for our remaining runner to come in from the 10K course.  

I had a sneaking suspicion at this point that I might have done better than PR, but I refused to let myself get exited until I saw the results.   After an interminable wait, they were posted and there it was...bib 686 29:23!!   I can't really explain how excited I was by this.  For those who have never been nonathletic, I suspect that it wouldn't mean anything.  For me, though, this was a validation that I was actually getting better, that I could call myself a runner and not just some fat chick out jogging.   It's an arbitrary line, to be sure, but it was important to me.   

I was, I'm reasonably sure, obnoxious for the rest of the day.  I actually started to doubt that I had read the results correctly, and was semi-obsessively checking the online results until I could confirm that I had really done it.   After that, I was over the moon excited and pleased with myself, and more smiley than anyone who knows me would believe.   It was a great, great day, and I'm super excited I was able to share it with so many of my friends.    Now, for the next goal! 

Unleash the SHE results - (If you want to see some really impressive running, check out what the rest of the Owatonna ladies did for the 10K)

   

Taking it easy

So, I've been trying to be a good little athlete, and take the prescribed rest period for my knee seriously.   Rest thus far has looked like mountain biking.  I think that counts.

I did have X-rays done last week, and they showed that my knee pain has a very definite and fairly easy to remedy cause.  Basically, my right patella is not tracking correctly due to an imbalance between the outer and inner muscles of my thigh.  Technically, my left has the same problem to a lesser degree, but it's not causing me pain (yet).  So, next step is to start doing some serious work to even that out and then protect my knee from further aggravation.  To that end I have gotten some ridiculously overpriced and frankly FANTASTIC compression tights.   They claim to stabilize the joints...we'll see, I guess, but they do look cool.

I do not look this good in them.   Sorry, hapless bystanders.

Of course, it's me, so I've been acquiring new injuries in the interim.  I've apparently reached a level of confidence on the mountain bike that has outstripped my skill.  This has translated to a number of crashes of late.  My legs are a mottled mess of new and old bruises and my foot looks...painful.  The most limiting issue is that my right arm and shoulder are pretty sore from hitting the ground multiple times, but nothing is broken.   As long as I don't need to raise my arm above elbow level I'll be fine.

I really am having fun on the mountain bike, though.  I'll likely never be a super risky rider, but trying to keep up with my biker peeps is encouraging me to move a bit outside my safety zone and it's pretty fun.  I've been to both Lebanon and Murphy and while I like them both, I think if I had to choose, I would go with Murphy.   Generally less crowded, I just feel more relaxed, even though the trail is probably less polished than Lebanon.   Besides, there are some truly awesome places in the trail where you are zipping along with a canopy of young trees arching just overhead that make me feel like I'm riding in an enchanted wood.  I'm a dork, I know.  

 

Again!?!

At some point, I would really like to stop having injuries to write about.   Honestly, as much fun as being hopped on pain meds is, I really would just like to be the kind of person who scoffs at the notion of being injured.  Instead, I seem to get the frequent opportunity to share with my readers the many and varied ways my body attempts to derail my efforts to improve myself.  So, without further ado...the latest.

Today I went to see the doctor after I started having excruciating pain in my right knee.   Now, I've had knee pain before, but this was something else.  I would be walking normally and then BAM! it would feel like someone had stuck a knife through my knee...and then left it there.    I would then spend the next few minutes walking stiff legged until I was able to convince my mind that bending my knee wouldn't hurt like that again.   Rinse, repeat.   The whole situation would have been comical, if not for the sinking feeling that I finally managed to do something Really Bad to myself.  

So, after consulting with Nana, I made an appointment at the clinic.  After waiting an interminable amount of time in the exam room, the doctor came in and did his evaluation.   After bending and twisting and prodding, he pronounced that I had not, in fact, torn anything, but my MCL was pretty upset with me.   In his opinion, this probably resulted from a combination of the following facts:  1) I increased my running miles too fast 2) I walked too much on my shiny new heel lift last Sunday and 3) my ankle is probably still messing with my gait a bit.    Yes, I am dumb, I know.

So, now I get to take it easy for 7-10 days (which I have interpreted as 3-5 days).   In theory this should involve not biking, but the doc told me if it didn't hurt I could do it and I'm taking him at his word.  So, biking is on, but other ambulatory exertions are pretty much out.   I am simultaneously relieved and frustrated.   Thank goodness it's not something more serious (probably...), but I was finally starting to make some real improvements in my running and it is very disheartening to once again have to stop and heal.  

I think I am going to write up a running plan for when I get back into it, just so that I don't overdo it again.   It's going to look pathetic (run a mile!  woo!), but I need to find some way to get better without getting broken at the same time.  

Race Recap - Big Woods 5K 2013

There are times I am reminded of how much I love living where I do.    Today was one of those days, as I was driving from Owatonna to Nerstrand for the Big Woods 5K.   It was a beautiful morning, with the faintest hist of of mist hanging over the ripe fields, the corn and soybeans golden in the early sunlight.   All in all, a fantastic day for a run through the woods.   As luck would have it, that was exactly what I was going to do!

Big Woods was my first 5K, and the only trail race I have done to date.   I love it...the setting is fantastic, the t-shirts are pretty awesome and I get to wear my favorite running shoes.  I was really hoping to do the 1/2 marathon, but at this point in my season, I was happy to be able to even contemplate doing the 5K today.   After my earlier runs this week, I was pretty sure I could do the distance, but I was a little worried as all my training has been on the road, and I had pretty specific warnings about not doing bad things to my ankle.  

The aforementioned really cool T-shirt

The bus dropped us off in the woods, and I got to don my "seasoned racer" hat as I explained to lots of folks that the start line was there and that they really should keep an eye out for the roots on the path.    The temp was pretty much perfect, cool enough that I was comfortable running in my jacket, but not so cold that I was freezing waiting for the start.   The trick to running in the woods is that you don't get as warm as you normally would running.  The lack of sun and the dampness combine for a chilling effect that takes a while to shake off.   On the other hand, I don't think it quite warranted the winter jackets I saw some folks wearing!

The (metaphorical) gun went off, and we started.   Despite my plans, I got shuffled to the back of the pack while we were waiting, so I had a lot of dodging of walkers and slower runners (!) at the start.    The path was pretty much covered in damp leaves, but my Saucony trail shoes practically have suction cups on the bottom, so my footing was pretty solid.    I definitely started out too fast, but I settled into my six count pace pretty early on.    The biggest problem I had on the trail were the occasional very muddy spots that made footing very squirrelly in places.   

The first mile went by pretty fast.   Midway through the second, though, I got a side stitch that would stick with my until the last quarter mile or so.   That was a bummer, especially as I haven't really had an issue with side stitches since I figured out I should stop hyperventilating while running.   I'm thinking the more intense pounding of trail running combined with a couple really bad foot placements (where did that hole come from?!) were probably the culprit.   My knee, which was complaining while I warmed up, shut up pretty early on and kept quiet for the duration of the race.   

The road portion of the race is my least favorite.   However, I can run with my eyes closed on the road, so there is that.   Out of the protection of the woods, the wind was a definite factor, but honestly, after biking into 20 mph winds, I just don't have it in me to get too worked about about running at 6.5mph into a wind.   There was some guy behind me pretty much the entire way in, which I know because he was breathing so loudly I thought he may have been in need of medical attention.   On the plus side it distracted me from my side stitch and encouraged me to keep my pace up.  I really do prefer being chased to chasing when it comes to racing.   

The real story, however, is my time.   I have done pretty much nothing for running this year, but somehow, I managed to PR this 5K.   And not just by a little, either.   I ran a 10:23 pace, which is insane...my fastest to date was something in the mid 11s.     Last year I did the run in 36:04.  This year, I did it in 32:14 on two training runs and no breakfast.   Hells yeah. :)

my Big Woods Run - 5k Seachable results

The end result of all of this is that I think I'm ready, mentally, to graduate to longer distances.   I needed that "win" to give me the mental push to move on.   Sort of like the time I first biked 20 miles, this feels like a moment where I can say "yes, I can do this."   

  

Progress comes in many guises

True to my word, I started running this week.   I've run a total of (are you ready for this??) 4.65 miles.  Wow.  Be impressed.   All joking aside, though, that's a pretty big step forward.   My knee has been mostly cooperating with me, though it takes some concentration to keep my right foot from drifting sideways into my left.   Something that seems to help with this is to shorten up my stride.  Now, my stride is already pretty short, but today I went from doing four counts to six counts and not only did my knee feel better, but I also shaved a good 30 seconds off my pace.   At that count, I'm running close to my cycling cadence (by my rough estimation).  Not sure if that's good or not, but it seems to be working.   

Since I've done so well this week, I think I might reward myself by running the Big Woods 5k.  If you remember, the Big Woods run was supposed to be my 1/2 marathon debut.  Sadly, that is not to be.  However, it's a fun run and the weather looks to be perfect.   The Big Woods should be beautiful and it will be good to get some dirt on my trail shoes.   It'll be a little strange to go to an event solo, but I'm sure I'll manage.   Fingers crossed for a cool shirt again this year! 

My back issues came to head again this week.   My back has hurt in a predictable way for years, but in the last few weeks it's gone from a constant 3-5 kind of pain to an intermittent 9-11 kind of pain.   Like, takes my breath away, fall down kind of pain (really, I fell down today...it wasn't pretty, but was probably funny).   Anyhow, I went to the chiro and sat down to have a heart to heart with him.   He agreed that this was an undesirable turn of events and decided he needed to get some pictures of my spine to see what was up.

Well, that revealed some surprises.  In his preliminary review of the films, he told me he saw that I had a compression fracture in one of my vertebrae.  He thinks it's an old injury, though I'm not entirely certain what I could have done to break my back.  The only thing that comes to mind is my infamous ski accident, though my (admittedly vague) memory suggests that I wasn't moving in the right direction for that injury.  In the end it doesn't matter, I guess, because that isn't the cause of my problems.  Go figure.  Only I could have a broken spine and have that NOT be why I'm in pain.   

His initial assessment is that my low back is mechanically weird (my words, not his).   Basically, the way I'm built appears to be tailor made for causing me pain when doing pretty much everything I like to do.   However, and this is the important part, even though it hurts, I'm not doing any damage.  So, if I can withstand the pain, I can do what I want to do.  Strangely, I'm okay with this.   With the recent intensity of my pain, I was super concerned that I was going to be told I had some degeneration of the discs, or some other hopeless kind of condition.   This, this I can deal with.  I can work to strengthen the core to better support the weakness in my spine and I can (and probably will) take fistfuls of meds to control the pain in the meantime.   It's not ideal, but at least it means I can continue to do this thing I've grown to love.   

Sadly, for my friends, this means I'm unlikely to stop being a whiner anytime soon.    Sorry about that.   Feel free to tell me to pop my pills and shut up.   :)

Rain, rain, go away!

Man, what a weekend!

Saturday saw me wide awake and ready to go at 5 AM despite having NO reason to actually be awake at such an unpleasant hour.  I tried to stay in bed and savor the chance to sleep in, but it was not to be.   So, giving in, I got up and headed to the gym for a little experimental running.   I specifically wanted to do a treadmill run because I was determined to figure out my knee issues and I reasoned that would be easier to do without having to concentrate on staying upright.  (As clearly, that's not something I'm very good at...)   Anyhow, mission accomplished!  As I was running on the treadmill, I noticed that my right leg kept bending in towards the left, which I'm thinking neatly explains the searing pain I've been getting across my low quad and knee.   The harder part, of course, is to figure out what to do to fix it.  

Despite dire predictions of a rainy Saturday, the day looked to be clear later in the afternoon.   With not much wind to speak of, I hopped on my road bike to get a quick 25 miles in before supper.  I checked my Weather.com app before I left and it said "dry conditions will continue".   LIARS.   10 miles in it started to sprinkle, then mist and then hail.   That's right, little white rocks started to pelt me from the sky on my "dry conditions will continue" ride.   I'm tempted to write in to complain.   Well, it was tiny hail, and let up after a few moments.  I abandoned my hiding place under a huge maple tree and continued on my ride.   I could have turned around, but by my reasoning I was more or less as far from home as I was going to get, so I might as well get the hills in I was planning on.     That's when it started to hail again.   Hiding under an awning this time, I watched with growing dread as the rain came harder and the hail got bigger.   After a few moments it seemed like it was going to clear, so I mounted up and kept riding.   About 5 minutes later, it hailed AGAIN.   At this point, I gave up, tucked my head down and just kept peddling.  Clearly, there was only one way to escape this torment, and it didn't involve staying out past dark ducking under overhangs.   It should be noted that the skies cleared about three minutes after I pulled into the driveway.  

Well, I dried my shoes and helmet and headed out again on Sunday for the Mankato River Ramble, a ride I've been wanting to do for a few years now.   Once again, the forecast was for dry and sunny weather, so I was feeling pretty good.   I wore a heavier soft shell to guard against the cool morning, but all in all, I figured it would be a cake 42 miles.   Well, you can guess what happened.    About 4 miles in the mist started and continued at varying intensities until the last 20 minutes of the ride.   The ride itself was very nice, and well supported with vast quantities of baked goods (and hot chocolate!).   I'm reasonably certain the views would have been lovely, if I could have seen them out of my rain fogged glasses.   Upon arriving back at the car, I promptly stripped (in public, though I did  have a bath towel for modesty) and changed into my dry pants, but I was stuck without a dry shirt.  Thankfully, my friend was kind enough to lend me one of his so that I did not shiver us into the ditch on the way home.

Here's hoping that fulfills my quota for wet, cold rides this fall.  If not, I may have to start bringing a trash bag with for an impromptu rain poncho!

Is this thing on?

Apologies on the radio silence folks - life has been busy here in Rishy-land.  While I've certainly been out and about, I've also had a bit of chaos on the personal life front.   Things are finally starting to settle back into something of a rhythm, so I figured I'd try and put out an update.   Unfortunately, I'm not really going to be able to do justice to the month of September in anything resembling a reasonable post, so I'm going to have to be somewhat scant on the details.  

After Jesse, I embarked on the annual OBC fall trip.  I don't actually know that it is an annual or a fall trip, but it has been so for the two years I've been riding with them, so that's what I'm going with.   Anyhow, the trip took us up north on a four day tour of beautiful northern Minnesota.   Starting with a day of mountain biking and hiking at Giant's Ridge in Biwabik, we then biked to Silver Bay, Duluth and back to Biwabik.   The weather was ridiculously kind, with a tail wind every day and only a bit of rain on the Silver Bay to Duluth leg.   Most importantly (to me), is that I finally got to experience what it would be like to be a fast rider.   I'm just going to post the Garmin data for the Biwabik to Silver Bay leg, and let you take a look.    Specifically, take a look at mile 55 on.  Oh, yeah, baby.   Downhill, tail wind and beautiful roads.   If it was possible to fall in love with a road, I would have gotten down on one knee and proposed.   

Immediately after returning from that trip, I started plotting my next.   In this case, it involved heading to Wisconsin to ride Autumn Trek - a lovely, hilly trip skirting both the Mississippi and St. Croix river valleys.   I went with my fast friends on this one, and was pretty much expecting to get dropped at mile 3 and never see them again.   Pleasantly, they decided to take it easy so I was able to catch up with them a couple of times and ride with some company here and there.   I blew up pretty bad on the last twenty or so miles, though, so they still finished way ahead of me.  Oh, well, something to aim for next year.  

Last weekend was a rare free weekend, with no rides or tris on the schedule.   Taking advantage of the opportunity, a friend and I headed down to Decorah and bounced around on the mountain bike trails there.  I admit, I was a little concerned I may have oversold the place, as my danger threshold is considerably lower than that of my companions, but he seemed pleased with experience.   It did not hurt that Sunday was a picture perfect fall day, replete warm temps, full sun and the slightly manic need to seize the last few drops of summer.    

Old pic, but this is the start of the River Trail in Decorah.  It gets scarier.

Now, I'm transitioning into my off-season routine.  I've started a three month strength training class through community education that, while not exactly what I was hoping for, is at least getting me out and doing something other than cardio.   My knee is still giving me issues, but I'm hoping to start running next week so that I can at least do some 5Ks yet this fall.   The ultimate goal for next spring is to start off with some Olympic distance tris, so I need to get the running in.   Naturally, I also need to get in the pool.   I've committed to showing up to a weekly coaching session in October, and I'm hoping to parlay that into swimming at least twice a week.   And on top of all that, I need to work on my core strength and stability to hopefully keep my back issues in check next year.   Whew!  

Mission Accomplished! (Jesse James 2013)

So, way back in December, I came up with a list of goals for the year.   Some were lofty, some were not, but one of the ones that I had in the back of my mind all season was to finish a century before the massage people left.   After my stunning failure in Wisconsin to do a century, I was feeling a little gun shy going into the 2013 Jesse James Century ride.   In fact, as late as the day of, I hadn't even really decided I was even going to try.   "Maybe," I thought, "I just don't have the legs for 100 miles this year."

Saturday dawned with nearly perfect weather.   No wind, warm, and pretty much perfect for hammering some miles.   So, as I drove to Northfield, I decided I was going to tell myself I was doing the 100 mile route until it was too late to change my mind.   There was only one teensy tiny wrinkle in my perfect day.   The weather, which was lovely at 6:30 AM, was projected to get into the 90's by midday.   I, being a large person and (more importantly) Norwegian, do not handle heat well.    Still, it was a well supported ride and I figured with a steady supply of cold water I'd be fine.

There is absolutely no way one of those hats is touching my head.

The OBCers gathered for our picture and then rolled out en masse.   Natural selection took its course, and soon the group had sorted in to A and B groups, with a few folks like me strung between them.    I had already resigned myself to riding the century solo, so I tried not to worry about it, and just rolled at my own pace.   Ready to distract me from my solitude was Sogn Valley, or more specifically, the climb out of it.  Last year, the climb had seemed very difficult and as my climbing has been crap, I wasn't sure how it would treat me this year.   Of course, immediately before the climb, there is a rest stop, so I stopped to get a banana quickly and chat with a few of the bike club folks who rolled up behind me.   However, with my goal firmly in mind, I didn't waste any time, and was back on the bike shortly.

The climb was...anti-climatic.   After falling apart on the hills in Wisconsin, I was prepared to grind up the valley roads, but honestly, I didn't even really notice them.  I mean, I'm sure I wasn't setting any speed records, but I was able to spin my way comfortably along.     The only eventful part of the climb was getting to the top where, unfortunately, a couple of cyclist had crashed out pretty badly.   I was actually passed by the ambulance on the way up the road.   I did see one of them at the end, so hopefully they didn't have any serious injuries.   

Riders at a rest stop in the early morning

After Sogn Valley, the century route turned a new direction.   Instead of heading west, the route went east and south to Kenyon with a stop in Wanamingo.   These roads were perfect.   Mostly flat and buttery smooth, I was flying along and taking in the views around me.   I really do love the Midwest this time of year, and I had a perfect opportunity to see why.   As a product, I suspect, of the accident, I found myself in a large gap where I didn't see any other riders for a long stretch of time.  I did start to get worried I'd missed a turn, but just as I started to get out my map and check, I rolled up to the rest stop.

Two things happened at Wanamingo.  1) I ran into a couple of club riders, and grouped up with them for the rest of the ride and 2) I got cold water.   This is noteworthy because it would be the last time I got cold water for the better part of 4 hours.   

Surprise!

Sometimes, I make my best decisions on a whim.  Some who know me might say all my decisions are made this way, but that's another discussion.   Take, for example, last week.   After watching my friends do their half-Ironman, the tri bug was riding me hard.   So, sitting at work, I looked once again at the website for the St. Croix Valley Tri and at the weather forecast for the weekend.  Then, before I had time to stop myself I put an email out the tri group asking, basically, for people to peer pressure me into showing up for the tri.

Boy, oh boy, did they respond!  Suddenly I had not only race companions for the day, but a veritable army of spectators.    Gulp.   It was one thing to ask for people to come do the tri with me.  Having people watch me??   Something else entirely.  I was under no illusions -  this wasn't going to be pretty and I wasn't entirely sold on the idea of having my fast and talented friends on hand to witness my bumbling attempts up close and personal.  Still, it was nice to have the support.

A week of temps in the 90s meant that the water was warm - almost too warm, really.   The announcer said it was 78F and I believe it.  The swim leg took place in Lake Saint Croix, a wide, shallow portion of the St. Croix river.   The lake is so shallow, in fact, that the vast majority of the swim course was actually walk-able.  The swim was 1/3 of a mile, otherwise known as my longest swim on the year, hands down.   Buoyed by the fact that drowning would be next to impossible (see what I did there??), I decided I was going to just take it nice and slow, and slow it was.  I was 183 of 197 out of the water, which is actually surprisingly good.   I didn't stand, though, and I think I swam a pretty straight line, so I'll count it as a win.

Once on the bike, I had a moment to regret never doing a swim/bike brick.  My legs were jelly and my heart was racing for what felt like fifteen minutes.  I wanted so badly to take a drink of water, but the road was so bumpy that I didn't dare let go of the handlebars.   Eventually, I got control of my breathing and settled into my pace.  I had deliberately not brought my Garmin, because I felt it was best I just did what I could without electronics telling me to go faster (or slower!).   The nice thing about being out of the water so late is that I had plenty of people to catch.  I passed a lot of folks, and the only ones passing me were on shiny carbon tri bikes.   For the bike, I was 80th overall...not too shabby.  The only downside to the bike was that it was too short, only 10 miles.  I did learn that I desperately need to learn to a) corner and b) ride on rough roads though.

The run was...well, a run.   I don't really like running yet, and this run was a long one for me.  4.1 miles, which tied my longest run EVER, that was accomplished much earlier in the year and after I had been running an awful lot more than I have been lately.    Honestly, prior to Saturday I had run twice since getting the all clear from my doctor.   I did my best to keep running, but after a mile, I knew I was never going to finish if I didn't walk a bit to keep my heart rate down.   So, I walked, though I made sure I never walked for long, and I tried to make sure no one I knew saw me doing it.  The distance was hard, though the return trip on the out and back went pretty fast.   On the final approach to the finish line, a guy pulled up next to me and said something along the lines of "let's do this" and we sprinted in together.  This resulted in, amongst other things, some really unfortunate finish line photos of me.  

This isn't one of them - you don't get to see those.

Honestly, it was an awesome experience.   Crossing the finish line while the announcer said my name (first name only, of course) and my friends cheered me on was amazing.   I wasn't sure what to expect - I read these stories of people tearing up and feeling this great sense of accomplishment when they finish their first tri.  It wasn't that for me -- I can't really describe it.  Mostly, it was a sense of affirmation, coupled with a desire to do better next time.    I'll take it.    (I finished 174 overall, and 64/96 for women...so improving shouldn't be too hard.)

Superior Man Tri - Spectator's Report

I have to say, it's a rather daunting task attempting to chronicle the epic achievements of your fellows.   That is my excuse for sitting this long on my report from Superior Man Tri.   For those not in the know, a few weekends ago a large group of the local tri group went up to Duluth to pit themselves against the rigors of a half Ironman distance triathlon.   A half is no joke -- 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and a 13.1 mile run.   It's a crazy thing to do at the best of times, and this particular day was brutally hot.

The day before - bright eyed and bushy tailed

With a little help from my friends

Tuesday I learned that one of my fellow tri-wannabes was giving up the dream, at least for the rest of the season.   She had lost her ambition, and was not feeling well besides and so doing a tri went back onto the "to do" list.   This is a feeling I, too, have been wrestling.    While my cycling has been going well, back problems aside, swimming and especially running continue to be points of frustration.  

As you might imagine, when it came time for tri practice I was less than inspired, to say the least.   I had left my bike at home, telling myself it was so I could focus on running, but thinking in the lazy parts of my brain that I would probably just swim and come home.   Everyone else was tapering for Superior Man Tri, anyhow.  Who would know or care if I mailed it in?   My inner Blerch was coming out.

The swim was a weird of mix of win and fail.   I have slowly but surely started to fix my terrible form in the water, and I'm finally starting to see the dividends from that.   I'm still not fast by any means, but I'm not as painfully slow as I once was.   Despite this, I wasn't feeling the swim, and my goggles constantly fogging over didn't help matters at all.   When the gentleman I was swimming with told me he was going to turn in, it was more than my fragile will power could withstand and I went in too.  

Once out of the water, my back started acting up, shockingly.  Sitting on the picnic bench, dripping in lake water and algae with my back cramping I pretty much decided that I was done.   I hadn't run in longer than I cared to admit, and starting this evening seemed like a poor choice.   Despite this, I slowly put on my socks and running shoes and waited for the long distance swimmers to come in.    

As suspected, most of the folks doing the 1/2 Ironman on Saturday were doing easy bike and no runs.   This was my chance!   As I started to make my excuses (read: whine about my back some more), R. said he was going for an "easy" 5K.    Then, he asked if I was running.   Damn.  Faced with a direct question, peer pressure set in and I caved.  "Yes," I said, cringing.   And out we went.

Now, R's easy 5K is about twice as fast as my fastest 5K time.  Which, honestly, was okay as I was (and am) not in shape to run right now.   As I watched him quickly stretch the distance between us, I tried to come up with some way to force my body into this run I had tricked it into.   Suddenly, I recalled reading something about intervals, and using poles as markers.  As it just so happened, we were on a road with nicely spaced poles running the length of it.   So, I started run/walk intervals using the poles.   Normally, my intervals are pretty slow, but since it was such a short distance, I decided I needed to really go for it.  

R passed me headed back in at about the one mile mark, which is where I had intended to turn around.  However, that little kick of peer pressure hit again, and I kept going another 1/2 mile to make it a three mile run.   On the return I was done.  Out of gas and hurting, I started to walk more and more, with my intervals getting slower and slower.  I was just about to give in and walk back when I saw someone was running towards me.  "Crap," I though, "he's coming back!"   And he was.   Having already finished his 5K and presumably bored, R. came back to run in with me.   That was a very nice thing to do.  I was not appreciative--at first.  

The thing about training with people much better than yourself is that they inspire you to be better than you are.   While I could have throttled R when he came bounding up to me fresh as could be, as he settled in next to me I couldn't allow myself to be the tired, defeated person I had been a few moments before.   We finished my intervals at much faster pace than I would have done by myself...and they only sucked half as much.   It was embarrassing (I sounded like a bellows while he wasn't even breathing deeply), but he was as gracious as could be and in the end I got a better workout for it.

I'm still not sure that I'm going to do a tri this year, but I have every confidence I will next year, and probably be better for the delay.  All with a little help from my friends.

To Grandmother's house...

My first real freedom on a bike came during my summer stays at my father's farm.   While my mom didn't let us wander further from home than a few houses away, dad was less restrictive.   So, during my stays with him, I took my bike and roamed free (or at least freer...).   I, as a not particularly wild child, have few stories of daring from my youth.   Nearly all of them come from those days on the bike, riding up and down the highway to the cute boy's house a few miles away and on the gravel roads between my dad's farm and my grandparents' place.  

Contemplating a rare open weekend this Saturday, I decided to return to my roots and ride down to my grandparents' house.   They still live in the same little red house that they did in my childhood, but the ride from Owatonna to there is a bit further than from the family farm.   It's about a 30 mile trip by car, but allowing for the meandering ways that bicycles prefer to travel, I figured I'd be looking at about 40 miles one way.  

Naturally, the wind that had been absent the entirety of the prior week decided to make a reappearance shortly before I took off.  It was a south wind, though, and I figured it would be at my back on the return trip, when it mattered.  I plotted my course and loaded up with provisions and set off for my first big solo ride in Minnesota.   Funny, I know, but by my reckoning, I probably hadn't been more than 10 or so miles from Owatonna alone prior to Saturday.   In Iowa, I used to do solo long rides all the time, but here companionship is easier to come by.  

After Thursday's debacle, I was concerned that my back would be an issue, so I adopted a "treat early and often" approach to back pain.   Mostly, that meant I was taking my pain meds as frequently as I could without getting dizzy.   Technically, I am supposed to be able to take two at a time, but I have found that if I try that I end up pretty woozy, which is usually inadvisable on the bike.  So instead, I spread out the pills and take them a bit more frequently than specified on the label.   Additionally, I made sure to sit up pretty frequently and get off to stretch every hour or so (and yes, there were more than two of those...).   For the most part, it seems to have worked, though I was sore enough after the meds wore off that I decided to stay off the bike today.

Blooming Prairie was my first stop, with the sweet promise of the Bakery drawing me in.    As usual, it was a struggle to buy enough to get to the $5 minimum for the debit card, but I managed.   Did I eat more cookies than was strictly required?  I'll never tell.   The boy at the counter asked me where I was riding to, and when I responded Oakland he burst out, "California?!?".   I choose to believe that I just looked so awesome and super cyclist-like that California was the only logical place I could be going.  

After Blooming, I was on new roads.  After consulting my phone for the best route out of town, I got my bearings and enjoyed pedaling west for a while.   This road eventually brought me to a small area marked Newry on the map.   Newry consisted of two houses, and while I was riding through, approximately three people.   Nonetheless, it had this, which was pretty cool.:

Grandpa says this used to be a creamery

After Newry, I wandered west and south some more, enjoying the quiet roads and beautiful scenery.  If I were an artist, my signature would be landscapes of kelly green fields unfolding under endless blue skies.   (Like this one).   The only moment of discomfort I had was riding along Highway 251 and remembering my younger self barreling along at speeds not even approximating legal on that very stretch of road.   I was not sad to reach Maple Island and its lower speed limits.  

I had one last southern jog to get to my destination.  I had to laugh when I realized that for all the flatness of my ride (and it was very flat), that the turn off to my grandparents' house was at the crest of the only hill for miles.  It's funny how I've never noticed that in years of driving there.  

The only hill in Freeborn county

And then, I was there.   Legs a little tired and slower than I wanted (though only by 15 minutes), I rolled up the gravel driveway just as I had when I was a child.   I leaned my bike against the same tree that my long forgotten bike leaned against and smiled as my grandma came out to greet me.    

  

And, just like then, my grandpa gave me a ride home! :)

Solo

Pain, I've decided, is best experienced in solitude.   This thought occurred to me as I peddled solo back up Highway 218 last night, having left the group ride at Bixby, with vague excuses and assurances that, yes, I was fine heading back alone.   "I'm not feeling well," I said.   What I meant is that thing you can never really say in a ride like this, that my body was done and I could not, for the night, continue at the pace the others had set.   Could barely, if truth be told, continue at all.  Despite my chiropractor's helpful assurances just an hour before that I wasn't going to do any damage to myself, each spasm of muscle in my low back convinced me that I was at the limits of what I could ask of myself.

So, alone I went, peddling harder than I needed to under the assumption that it was better to get it over quickly.   I had prescription meds with me, but I have a rule about taking meds for trips shorter than two hours.   Foolish, maybe, to stick to such an arbitrary cutoff with shooting pain running through my spine and leg, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.   Strangely, the ride got easier once I gave up the pretense of trying to keep up with the group.   I wasn't really going any slower, but somehow the road passed under me with more ease than it had just a few moments before.

Alone, you see, I was free to distract myself any way I chose.  I would concentrate on my breathing one moment, and the next break out into an impromptu rendition of whatever pop song was going through my head at the time.   With the rumble of passing semis and cars as my accompaniment, I sang Pink's "Try", belting out half remembered lyrics in between gasps for air.
 


Even when I wasn't able to distract myself, it was easier to be in pain alone, because I could embrace it, if I needed.   There was no need to put on a good face or try to be brave.   I was free to gasp and moan, and even cry if that was what was necessary.

I got home, finally, exhausted, but somewhat pleased with myself for having made it home under my own power.  Once home, I grabbed my ice packs and Flexeril, and proceeded to make myself one with the couch for the rest of the evening.   The pain subsided, ushered away by the cold burn of ice and a sleepy haze brought on by the muscle relaxants.

Pain, to some extent, is the nature of the game when you start talking endurance sports.  It's not a comfortable thing we do, pushing the boundaries of body and mind to shave a few seconds from a PR.  I suppose it is impossible to tell, really, where you sit in relation to someone else in terms of tolerance.   I would like to think I'm not a giant pansy, but who knows?   Maybe everyone reading this thinks this sounds like their normal ride.  I hope not.  I'm still holding out for that elusive nirvana of a pain-free back and strong legs.   In the meantime, sometimes it'll be easier to just ride alone.

Good things come

I decided something last night, while I was climbing a small hill at inexplicably slow speeds:  holy crap, I picked up some speed in the last few weeks.   I know, this seems contradictory, but bear with me.   You see, as I was struggling up this hill (due to my low back abandoning me several miles earlier), I noticed that my average speed for the trip was over 17 mph.   I know for some folks that isn't fast, but for me that's pretty much my top average speed, and it was the second hard ride in a week that I had seen those numbers.  Even better, this was my average speed including in town riding AND the afore mentioned several miles of low back abandoned rollers.    So, really, it probably was like 25 mph otherwise (kidding...kidding).   

This is even more marvelous to me given that a few weeks ago on a group ride I had pretty much given up on keeping up with the club for the rest of the season, as my couple of weeks off the bike had sapped my strength on the bike in unprecedented fashion.   I seem to recall turning in a ride during tri practice that averaged *cough* 12 mph *cough*.   That I am now able to hold onto a wheel at better than 19 mph is not something I thought I would be doing this season.   

This has given me new energy in the triathlon side of things.   After losing so much ground on the bike and being unable to run for nearly two months, I had given up on the notion of doing a tri this year.   Now, though, I'm eyeing up some later events and making some soft commitments.  I still need to get my ankle broken (ha!) in again, and my back is not happy, but I think something at the end of August is reasonable.   That's probably about as late as I can go, as I'm still without a wet suit until I actually finish one of these damn things and decide for sure that I want to do something other than sprint length.   

The next two or three months are hot and heavy with rides and other activities.   Despite my earlier misgivings, I think I'll be ready for them.  And that's pretty awesome.  

30!

Well, it's official...I'm no longer a twenty-something.  (Actually, that happened a while ago...wow, this post has been sitting in edit a long time!)   All in all, I'm not too sad about that, as I feel that the thirties are where you really get to rock out.   And trust me, I intend to do some rocking.  The last few years have seen some pretty major changes in my life and I look forward to seeing where those changes take me.  Also, now I'm the youngest in my age group, rather than the oldest.  Score!

I thought it would be interesting to compare me at thirty to me at twenty, so I went digging for pictures.  Of course, when I was twenty, digital cameras weren't ubiquitous, so it's a little harder to find those old pics!  I did manage to find my favorite shot, though, taken in Germany.   This was, hands down, the best picture that existed of me for the better part of a decade.

Cutting off the hair was three pounds alone

I'm pretty happy with where I'm at, but I have to admit, I missed a pretty big goal I had set for myself.  A couple years ago, when I started this whole "healthier, better me" kick, I said my goal was to be a healthy weight by my thirtieth birthday.   Sadly, that didn't happen.  I'm certainly a lot closer, but I've still got a good fifty pounds to go.   I try not to worry about weight too much, but the fact is, it's a pretty good indicator of overall health and for me, it's just not there yet.  

From a fitness perspective, I'm the best I've ever been.   Every so often it occurs to me that the kinds of thing I do for fun now would have made my 20 year old self snicker and roll her eyes at the crazy bike lady.   I'm okay with that.  My 20 year old self was pretty damn snarky, though I seem to recall she enjoyed the occasional late night bike ride around campus.  Crazy bike lady indeed.

So what's next?  My summer plans have been derailed more than a little by my ankle, but I'm getting back into the swing of things, at least on the bike.    I still hope to do a half marathon this year, but Thursday's doctor appointment will probably decide that one.   In the long term, I've got more than a few things I want to knock off my list before 40...and there's no time like the present to get started.  

Trinona

I'm going to start this post off by giving a HUGE congrats to the folks from Owatonna for their showing at Trinona.   From the time trial to the age groups and even a pseudo lifetime award, O-town folks represented.  It's pretty awesome to know and train with such talented individuals.

As is probably pretty evident from my last post, Trinona didn't exactly go the way I had hoped.   With a sprained and fractured ankle, there was no way that I was going to be able to compete.  When I realized I had sprained it, I initially had hoped that is was a minor enough sprain that I would be able to go.  Once I got stuck in the boot, though, I knew I was done.   While that sucked, I figured I was over it.  Que sera, sera and all that.    I even signed up to volunteer so I had a reason to tag along and hang with my peeps.  

Volunteering was fun, though I had NO idea what I was doing.   I was assigned an intersection to man along with someone else, but I was the only one to show up.   After being asked by the race marshals to make big gestures to steer racers around the corner, I settled into a routine of gesticulating wildly while using my body to block drivers from turning onto the road while bikers were coming around.  

My corner

Despite the very real threat of rain, the course stayed dry until the very last riders came through.  Since it was a corner, everyone had to slow down enough that I could see their faces, so I got to say hi to the people I knew.   And there were a lot of those.  Holy smokes, Owatonna rocked this place.   

After I was released from my post, I got back to the finish line in time to see Ann come in.   After that, I hung onto people's bikes as they claimed prizes and went back and forth for food and whatnot.   Then everyone headed out and I walked back to my car alone.

I was seriously considering ending this post here, but I guess the point of this blog is to recount the ups AND downs of this triathlon journey of mine, so be warned, I get sorta morose for a moment here.

Once home, I saw a pic on Facebook of my friends celebrating with food and liquor, as is their habit.   Suddenly, I was all choked up and feeling about two inches tall.  Being me, I started trying to rationalize this strange emotive outburst.  Was I upset about missing the race I'd been training for?  Well, yes, but that wasn't it, really.  Was I being hopelessly adolescent, and feeling left out?  That was closer, but not quite it.   

Finally I realized that I was feeling not left out, but left behind.   I hang out with people light years better than me at what we are doing, and while I try to be okay with that, in honestly it bugs me.  In some way, I guess I felt this would be my opportunity to join that cool kids club and feel like I had something in common with these incredible people.   Instead, I once again ended up watching from the sidelines like that obnoxious younger sibling who doesn't know enough to just go home.   I know that is my own insecurity speaking, and not any reflection of them, but there it is nonetheless.   

Well, wallowing wasn't getting me anywhere, so I took my fitness bike and went for a ride (yay flat pedals...but don't tell my doctor).   The sun was out, the path was dry and I was booking it for someone with a gigantic boot on her foot.  There are a lot of things that flying along on two wheels won't fix, but a pissy mood is not one of them.