That's what friends are for...

....friends know you well enough to give you space when you need it, and push you to do things that you know you should be doing, even when you don't really feel like it.

I am fortunate enough to have 3 of these kinds of people in my life:

Jessi

Steve

Tiffany

Now, I know the last time I was in the water, but it was so long ago, I am too embarrased to say. Needless to say, my team had noticed my extended absence from the pool, and finally got fed up with hearing my myriad excuses (trip to Europe, tattoo, lazy, fat, slow, etc). So, they staged a sort of "triathlete's intervention". Rather than saying "hey lets all get together to swim!", it was more of "hey, the 4 of us are swimming this week....you tell us when". No escape this time!

Uh, what exactly is this mysterious blue thing???

We decided on Wednesday morning at 5:30. Ugh. Fear kept me from asking if we were going to do a formal workout. You see, while I have been spending many glorious months forgetting how to swim (an actual fear I have had), all three of my psychologists have been working their butts off in the pool and getting wicked fast. I don't have any verifiable evidence of this fact (probably because I forgot just where the pool is located), but knowing these 3, I am sure they are.

Fortunately, they took some pity on me and we mostly played around and laughed our butts off trying to get Tiffany's sweet new underwater camera to work. Highlights were the 4 x person synchronized breaststroke (we are damn good) and Steve trying to talk his way out of being beaten by a girl! And was I in any mood to stop the fun and games?? HECK NO!! In true hard core A+ style, Jessi did make us do a small pyramid. Probably just to teach me the hard lesson of why I shouldn't have taken so much time off. I struggled to get thru one freaking 150. Not good! But, I guess when you are at rock bottom in the pool, ya gotta start somewhere, right?!

So, why do I love my team??
- Because sometimes it is nice to be missed.
- Because it really says something when they will get up damn early on a Wednesday to come swim with me, even when I know good and well that they would rather be sleeping.
- Because they know just the right ways to motivate me.
- Because they give me just the right amount of guilt for missing a workout (or 100 workouts).
- Because without them, I would be nowhere near the athlete and person I am today.

The best team ever! Thanks for the push guys! :)

Struggling to keep it going

After a weekend of two zeros (but one damn fun party!), I spent Monday in a negative funk and was resigned to a lazy, pissed off, early to bed with no workout kind of night.

Fortunately, my team once again came to my rescue. Jessi and Natalie were scheduled to do a 90 min ride, and I was motivated just enough to go. Then Steve-o joined in, and voila! Instant weekday ride! With my crappy Monday, I was sort of expecting a blah ride, but I was hoping that maybe a good sweat session might snap me out of the funk. Not sure if it solved all my ills, but I did end up having a great ride. That's big for me, cause usually trainer rides aren't all that productive. I even succeeded in working up to a Zone 3 average heart rate, so that was a bonus. I suspect it was the presence of 3 awesome training buddies. So, thanks guys! I am glad I came.

Me, vertigo-less Jessi, headband rockin' Steve, and basketball goddess Natalie pound out the miles in the basement.

So, with an anti-zero Monday, it was off to the gym Tuesday night for another butt kicking by Steve. It made it easier to go when Andy agreed to go and do some cardio, so off into the night we went. Imagine my suprise and delight when Natalie came back for another hour of pain. And then, Trish stepped up and joined the party! Nice!! We did an intense 40 min of arm pounding, during which I quickly became frustrated at how I seem to be getting weaker with every strength training session. Uh, isn't strength training supposed to make me capable of doing more pushups rather than less??? Anyway, I made it thru ok, though my body didn't seem to have much to throw at this workout. Oh well. Something is better than nothing, right? Then we all went to get ice cream. Sweet! At least there was one good thing from the workout. :)

Fast forward a mere 8.25 hours, and I am up again, headed to the gym for more "pain with Steve". Hmmmmm, how many catchy names can I come up with for these workouts? :)
The weird thing this morning though, is that I am not really all that sore in specific places from yesterday. Rather, its just a general lack of energy throughout my body.

In fact, I feel kind of like this:

A big pile of useless bricks

My only hope is that I am somehow moving thru the stages of strength training, and I will soon arrive at the "feel awesome, feel stronger, can actually see muscles getting more defined" stage. Faith. Patience. I know that's what it will take to get to this stage. Two things I don't have alot of when it comes to this kind of stuff. Which makes Steve's job that much harder. If he can somehow convince me to keep doing this, I will count that as a major victory for him. Good luck, buddy! :) Right now the count is at 4 sessions. Which is 3 more than any other strength training routine I have ever embarked on. So far, so good. I just hope it pays off next season. And actually "seeing" some results would be nice too.

This changes everything....

Well, we had our first ultrasound yesterday, and here she is!

Yes, the first time I heard our baby's heartbeat, it was cool and it helped make the pregancy a little more "real". But yesterday took the cake. I guess maybe I am a visual learner, but seeing our baby on the screen, in real time, moving around, well, that somehow :) changed everything. For the good.

In the short span of about 20 minutes, a few major, life changing things happened:

1. I became a big, sappy, softy of a (almost) parent.
2. I have a new favorite song: John Mayer's "Daughters".
3. I think I could very easily cry tears of joy at any moment. In the past, it took me 140.3 miles of racing to get to that point.
4. I believe that an unborn hand can be wrapped firmly around my finger.
5. I understand the term "Daddy's little girl".
6. I am having visions. Like visions of some of this kid's major life events. Like first steps, first word, first run, walking her down the aisle, etc.

And yeah, we only have 10 or so pictures of this kid, but I already have a favorite:

Our little daughter is tired in this picture. How do I know? You might think it could be because during the entire ultrasound she was moving around and doing flips like crazy (uh, a product of 2 very active people maybe???). But no, you'd be wrong. If you have ever seen ME when I get tired, I rub my eyes. Whoa, this little one really is her daddy's girl! :)

Damn. This is all pretty cool!

And finally a shout out to the other third of our little (but growing) family. Andy is doing a great job keeping our baby warm, and fed, and safe. Considering that she's never done this before, and her body undergoing some pretty major changes, she is doing amazingly well. And I wouldn't want anyone else in the world to hang out with my baby than Andy. Love you, AP! :)

OUCH!

So, the tattoo thing turned out to be the easiest, least painful part of my weekend.

After watching the Beavs beat the snot out of the poor Cal Bears on Saturday...

...I stupidly coordinated with Steve to being my journey to strength training nirvana on Sunday morning. And I thought the tattoo was uncomfortable!

I had seen these things around the gym before, but every time I approached them, I got scared and ran away....

But Steve offered to kick my butt sufficiently so that I would look like this by the end of the winter. Cause that is supposed to make me go faster in races?

In reality, I knew that some sort of winter strength training regimen probably wouldn't be all that bad, and might indeed improve my speed next season.

Steve proceeded to spend almost 90 minutes with this, beating me senseless.

We did more stuff than I care to remember, and when I woke up on Monday morning, I felt like this:

Uh, the CAR, not the tank, by the way.

I was sore in places I never have been sore before. I am writing this on Tuesday. And I am still way sore. We are supposed to lift again tomorrow. Fear and dread fills my body. I hope that maybe we can back it off just a tad for awhile, to give my body a chance to adjust to this new crap.

To quote Dire Straits: "Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger, sometimes you're the ball."

Today, I am the ball.

I just hope that Steve has enough motivational power to keep me going. That will no doubt be HIS toughest test this off season. :)

Tat-ing up!

Well, after talking about it for 3 years, I finally took the plunge and got my one and only tattoo.

BEFORE:

Still a chance to turn back...

But not now! Brent the artist at work

It is done! And I am still alive!!
AFTER:

While it wasn't completely painless, it really wasn't all that bad. It was uncomfortable, and kind of annoying. Lets just say it was uncomfortable enough that I probably won't be getting another one any time soon. Or ever, really, cause this is the only one I ever wanted.

I AM AN IRONMAN!

Starting over

So, this is how I have been feeling lately...

And yes, I know everyone will say "Whatever!", but, just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so too is laziness and Jabba-the-Hut-ness. So, if I have been feeling like a fat slug/Star Wars alien mobster lately, then I have become a fat slug. Not good.

Although I have been forbidden from using excuses since my A+ team discovered Rule 76, I have been struggling with trying to find an explanation for my recent blah-ness. Uh, recent, if you count 13 weeks as "recent". Bascially since the epic race Steve and I had in CDA way back in August, I have been feeling "off". Some of the top candidates for explaining this are:

1. Our 2 weeks of galavanting all around Europe. The jet lag, Dutch cheese, French crepes, and Swiss chocolate must have scrambled my diet sufficiently to require 3+ months of recovery.

2. My loss to Steve at CDA Olympic. This must have done something to the deep inner workings of my psyche that caused my inherent lazy-gene to become dominant. Clearly, if this is the explanation, then we must never let this happen again. In fact, I believe that to solve this problem, Steve and I need to race again ASAP and I need to win. This could work out well....Steve just finished the 70.3 World Championships, so he's tired. And he's still maybe a bit injured. So, we are going to race a marathon, which gives me a pretty good chance at winning. Sweet.

3. I am going to be a father. Soon. Now that I have been forced into coming to grips with this fact, and because I have had to take care of an occasionally sick, diet-limited wife, I have been rendered totally incapable of working out. Clearly. But seriously, this thing called couvade is real, my friends! Google it! And I must have it bad....

4. Some combination of all of the above. :)

Whatever the explanation, I am in the doldrums, and I need to snap out of it. There are seriously days or workouts when I am feel so sluggish and fat that I find it incomprehensible that I have actually done 3 Ironmans, including one pretty fast (for me) a mere 144 days ago. Or that I did a sub-3:30 marathon 39 days ago! To quote one of my favorite Bruce Hornsby songs: "What the hell happened to me?"

I don't know, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this current version of "me". So, I am officially starting over.

Day one was yesterday, a rare mid-week day off from work (thanks, fellow Veterans, for all of your sacrifices, by the way). I could have very very easily slept in, did a bunch of crap around the house, and be lazy. The stars were perfectly aligned for such a day. But I decided NO! I said to myself "You have been a slacker, and so, you must be punished by way of an ass-kicking morning of workouts".

Ass kicking #1: Out of bed shortly after 4am. And on the road to the gym shortly thereafter.

Here's the proof:

What is this foreign place???

Ass kicking #2: My old standby twice a week workout, the 60/30 brick. The 5:00am spin class followed by a transition to a 30 min treadmill run. Back in 2006, in the lead-up to my first Ironman, I did this workout consistently, and I give it credit to my love of "running off the bike".

Supposedly they call this a "spin bike". Hmmmm...interesting

Getting set up for the class felt very weird. Maybe because I hadn't done it in...uh...well, I can't remember. But I remembered my towel! And water bottle!

And cycling shoes! And running shoes!! Am I really going to do this workout???

The spin class was, as expected, tough, although knowing where I was fitness-wise, I tried (and mostly succeeded) at taking it a bit easy. It felt weird being back on a spin bike after such a long hiatus, but I managed the hour pretty well.

Then it was off to the treadmill for 30 min. I settled into 8:30s, and they felt ok. Not super-tough, but I was working. I passed the time (forgot my iPod...oops) by working on flattening out my foot strike, which for me constitutes a major shift in my running form. I decided to use the controlled environment of the treadmill to focus on this, and what better time than the cold, dark winter! I would count out 100 flat foot strikes on the left, 100 on the right, and then 200 on both. While it felt a bit weird and my lower leg/ankle muscles hurt a bit, I did feel like had I been going faster I might have felt a positive difference. After my run, my body was energized, but tired. Always a good feeling.

Why have I been such a slacker? It makes me feel like this......

To reward myself for actually getting my butt out of bed at 4:15am on a holiday, I went to Starbucks. Boo yeah.
Then I went home to rest up and recover before my next workout. Even so, pretty cool to be home before 8am and have a solid workout under my belt.

Part 1 done!

In the time it took to get my drink at SBUX, the rain started. By the time I had arrived at the sight of my next workout 3 hours later, it was a downpour.

Thank goodness I enjoy running in the rain!

Ass kicking #3:

Why I agreed to do a 10k trail run with Josh and Michael B, I still have no idea. These guys are 2 of the faster runners in the area. So, why in the hell do I seem to have this knack of replying "Yes" to crazy workouts posted on the forum by crazy fast athletes??? Must be more of that punishment thing. Thank goodness Bryan Rowe showed up, so I wasn't left too alone and lost out there on the trails. Uh, until he decided to drop my butt too. Oh well.

And it is cold out there too....

This run was fast, hilly, muddy, wet, painful, a suffer-fest, and....damn fun. Hosh and Michael took off into the forest like a pair of fleet-footed wilderness dwellers and managed to find more than a few "trails" that veered off directly up the steepest part of a hill. I realized that I was in over my head when the following exchange occurred 5 min into the run:

Hosh: Did any of you look at the elevation profile on the route map?

Us: Nope.

Hosh: Good. (then speeds away at a sub-7 pace looking like he's out for a Sunday stroll)

Me (to myself): I hate Hosh. And I hate me for replying "Yes"

Within a mile I was cooked and my heart rate was in the stratosphere. I knew we had gained some major elevation when I found myself running in the clouds. Every now and then Hosh and Michael would appear around a corner doubling back, pretending that they had gotten lost. While this did serve to keep us all closer together now and then, I think they were just toying with Bryan and I. Or maybe they were just looking to get a few more miles in.

In the end, I did survive, and Hosh gave me some props for making it thru the run after doing a workout earlier that morning. It was fun watching Hosh and Michael push each other ala Steve and I, except that it was happening way faster. And it was really fun getting in my car and turning on the seat warmers to high. And then going home.

Whew! I was home by 11:30am, my self-inflicted punishment complete. I only hope that I can SOMEHOW maintain this momentum and find my spark again soon. Cause if I don't, I may indeed end up being cast to play Jabba the Hut in the next Star Wars movie.

The times they are a'changing...

So, why did I end the last post by stating "Who knows what next year will look like" as far as my triathlon/racing life goes?

Because just about the time the 2009 season gets going, I WILL BE A DAD!!!

Andy and I are super excited, and super freaked out for the next great adventure of our lives. Off we go into the great unknown of parenthood. About the only thing we know for sure right now is that our lives are for sure about to be turned upside down.

We have had one appointment already, where we got to hear the heartbeat...that was pretty cool. The nurse reported that the little a+ had a pulse of 156. And of course in true obsessive triathlete form, I immediately thought "Perfect! Clicking right along in Zone 3, nice aerobic workout, kid" Ha ha ha.

So, when will my next race be? Who knows! When will I train/eat/sleep? Who knows! But I do know that I can't wait to cross an Ironman finish line with this as yet unidentified child. That'll be pretty awesome.

Not sure what else to say, since I really don't know what is about to happen. But I am totally psyched, and can't wait to see this kid!!

Portland Marathon race report

PORTLAND MARATHON 2008

Portland was my first marathon way back 9 years ago. Even though I bonked hard at Mile 18, that race has always been one of the highlights of my running career, because I got to do the race with my dad. That bonk, though, left a bad taste in my mouth, and I always knew that one day I would get back there and do this race right. So the stars finally aligned in 2008. My training was pretty good after our trip to Europe, and I felt very confident that I could set a PR and go sub 3:30.

We left Spokane at 5am on Saturday, and picked up Andy's sister Megan at the train station in Portland, then we headed off to packet pickup and the expo. We ran into fellow Tri Fusion-ers Dave and Tasha Gordon in the parking garage below the hotel, which was actually the lower level of the expo. Weird... But cool to see some familiar faces in the crowd. I had a nice "9 years later" nostalgia moment walking into the hotel; I was momentarily taken back to that very first marathon...pretty cool. After a quick cruise thru the expo, we headed for my parents place out west, and chilled out for the rest of the afteroon.

After a restless night of sleep (why the heck was I nervous???) the 3 of us got ready and headed for downtown. It was cloudy out, but not raining. Yet. In 37 years of this race (in rainy Portland, Oregon, mind you) it had never rained on race day. That's pretty shocking if you know anything about Stumptown or if you grew up in P-town. Well, today, the Portland Marathon's luck had run out. It started raining shortly after the start and would not quit until well after the race had ended for most. I was psyched about this turn of events, because I love running in the rain, and it kept the temps down in the "perfect" range for running marathons.

In the days leading up to the race I wrestled with how to tactically approach my race, trying to balance my confidence with my recent race performances. I decided to take advantage of the pacing services offered by Portland's Team Red Lizard running team and run with the 3:30 pace group, for a number of reasons. First, my Disneyland Half experience reinforced the lesson to go out slow, especially in a marathon. Second, 3:30 equates to 8:00 pace, which is way easier for me to remember and calculate splits from than 3:20 pace (which is 7:38 pace....boo non-round numbers!) Lastly, I thought that, on the off chance that I felt really really really good at Mile 19 or 20, it would be better to try and chase down the 3:20 group than to try and hold off the 3:30 pace group as I died the last 6 miles.

The first mile or so of any big race is always crowded, and I'm used to being boxed in and having to fight to find clear running room. No difference here, but the one thing I failed to think about was the effect that staying with a pace group would have. Apparantly 3:30 is a very popular time goal, and so this group was at least 100 strong thru the first half of the race. I kept expecting things to thin out as they always do in big races, but it doesn't happen when you are in such a big pace group. Oh well. No worries. I contented myself to yo-yo'ing off the back of the group, a) in an effort to conserve energy, and b) to get some clearer running room. Looking back, this was one of my best moves of the day.

I remember looking around at Mile 10 at this huge group and wondering "how many of you people feel as good as I do right now? How many of you will be left at Mile 24?" I knew I would still be there, cause at this point, I felt incredibly good. In fact, at every aid station where the group inevitably slowed up some, I always found myself zooming up to the front of the group with seemingly zero effort.

I'm super-glad that I put some semi-serious thought and course recon in before the race, because I had decided that I would not move ahead of the 3:30 pace group until Mile 19, no matter how good I felt. I won't lie, it was hard, but I ended up playing a game with myself to see how close I could get to the pacer without going in front of him.

We hit the half in 1:43, just a shade under pace, but these Red Lizard guys knew what they were doing, banking a bit of time for the big climb up to the St. John's Bridge that hit at Mile 16.

Portland's version of "Doomsday"

Everyone always freaks out about the hill up to and over the bridge, and with good reason. Its not really all that steep, but the fact that it comes at Mile 17 makes it tough. But, I had run over this bridge plenty of times in college, and when we got there, it felt like I was back on my home turf. Doesn't hurt that I love to run up hills! I zoomed up the hill with no problem, staying right on the shoulder of the pacer.

This picture must be from last year....cause I don't see the rivers of water flowing down the back side of the bridge :)

I did the ceremonial "spit off the middle of the bridge" at the top, then freaked out as the group pulled a Steve-o and tried to lose me on the downhill. Aaaakkk! I managed to stay with them this time, then we settled back into what still felt like an easy pace. Off thru the neighborhoods of North Portland and then we arrived back "home" at the University of Portland. I stupidly looked for some familiar faces up on the Bluff, then realized that I had not lived there in over 10 years. Ugh. I'm old!

Mile 20, and it was decision time. Ironically, this is the point 9 years ago where I was in full bonk mode. My my, how far I've come! I couldn't hold back any longer. I finally moved ahead of the pacer, said my silent goodbyes to the friendly lizard on a stick, and set off in search of my PR.

I think its kind of funny how warped your brain can get during a long race. Once I moved ahead of the 3:30 pace group, I was feeling great and flying by a ton of people, thinking, hey, that was me 9 years ago. At least at the time it felt like I was flying by them. Because of these sensations, my brain tricked itself into thinking that within a measly span of 1 mile, I must have put at least 3 minutes on the pace group. Ha ha ha. After they caught me at Mile 25, I came to the realization that I probably never got more than a minute in front of them. Just funny how brains work after 3+ hours of running.

Anyway, I didn't walk until almost Mile 24, which, even though I've done 11 marathons, is the farthest I have ever run non-stop. It was just a 10 second break to get my last GU Roctane down. Then I was off again, still thinking that I had at least a few minutes on the pace group. Up the hill to the Broadway Bridge with no problem, then my legs said ouch as I descended the hill to the last aid station. Just like in CDA with Steve, that last downhill did me in, and I was forced to walk again at the bottom. What got me running again was the shock and surprise of seeing that damn lizard on a stick go by me. No way I'm gonna let that thing beat me! Turns out, in a wonderful twist of irony, that the Red Lizard guy who paced the 3:30 group thru the second half of the race was named, of course, STEVE. It was fate. Meant to be. Of course I was going to beat him! :) Well, either that, or he'd run my ass into the ground over the last half mile. I responded to the pass and somehow managed to get back to the lizard, just about the time I started to try and count the number of blocks I had left. Looking at my watch, and it was gonna be close. Stay with the lizard, and I wouldn't make it. Beat him, and I might just get my sub-3:30. As I predicted way back at Mile 10, at Mile 25 all that remained of our once-powerful group was Pacer Steve, me, and 6 others. It felt great to be one of the proud "survivors".

Huge thanks to the Team Red Lizard pacers, Jacob and Steve!

I made my last "lizard pass" with 15 blocks to go and gave it all I had. Kendra Edlin, another Tri Fusion-er screamed at me and told me I looked great. I was thankful for the many great moments I have had this season, because I needed every one of them. I thought of Jessi talking me into racing Onionman with my road rash. I thought of my A+ team willing me to a sub-12 Ironman in June. I thought of Steve pushing me at Tiger and kicking my butt at CDA. And I suddenly found the strength to fight for what I wanted. 6 blocks to go, one last look at my watch...I hope I can run a block in less than 30 seconds! :) The last 3 blocks were a slight uphill (where you at now, Steve????) but I couldn't feel it. I saw my brother and mom and dad yelling for me at the last corner, and took one last look at my watch. 3:29:15 with less than a block to go. YES!!! Victory in the rain! 3:29:34!! I wanted it, I fought for it, and I got it. So satisfying!

Sure...now it stops raining, after we are all done!

Always good to be back home...only wish the weather looked like this for race weekend!

It was a great way to end my season. And now I'm happy to be done for awhile. I am sure my body needs a break.

Who knows what next year will look like...but 2008 was definitely a success! (read on to the next post) :)

Disneyland Half Marathon

Not sure how smart it was, but a mere 5 days after flying home from Paris, we hopped on another plane and headed to SoCal to run the Disneyland Half Marathon. This is the 3rd running of this race, and we've done them all, so we just had to keep the streak going.

The day before we left for Anaheim, I started feeling the onset of a cold, and by the time we got to the hotel, my sinuses were "fully engaged". Even though I had done one semi-hard run on Thursday with Steve, my body was still feeling the after effects of jet lag. Adding a cold on top of that was not a good sign.

I tried to tell myself that my goals were still achievable, mainly hoping that I could tough out 90 minutes and then let my body fall apart. This race is huge (over 10,000) but it is super anti-competitive. Most people run it for the scenery and chance to run through the Disneyland theme parks, and the last 2 years I have placed pretty high. Last year, I was 10th in my age group, so this year my goal was to try and get in the top 5 so I could get an award. I was a bit suspect of my training (or lack thereof) in Europe, and when I started feeling sick, the quiet voice in the back of my head saying "don't count on a top 5 this year" started getting louder.

Even so, I decided I would try and go out fast and try and hold on for as long as I could. Uh, bad move. Turns out that after a 6:40 first mile (which, assuming I was in good shape would have been my goal pace), it was all downhill after that. Or maybe that's uphill. Whatever is harder. I knew by mile 4 that I was in trouble and had no shot to break 1:30, so I began to ease off and not fall apart too fast. It was very frustrating watching runner after runner fly by me, but I knew that it just wasn't going to happen. Didn't matter how "tough" I tried to be. Sometimes, it just isn't there.

By Mile 9, I started to feel a little better, maybe because of the few aid stations that I walked thru. In the last half of the race, there were a ton of groups of boy/girl scouts, cheerleaders, bands, etc out cheering, and that gave me a nice boost to keep plugging along. As we went around Angel Stadium, I found that I was actually keeping up with and, *gasp* gaining on a few other runners. Maybe they went out too fast too, and just died a little later than I did. I'm not sure how many people were stupid enough to go out so fast that they died 4 miles into a half marathon. I know of at least one! :) I did end up passing a few folks, which buoyed my spirits somewhat, and by Mile 11 I decided maybe I should try and pick it up for the last 2 miles. Not really sure how much I actually picked it up, but it felt like I was running faster. At least there's that! Coming into the park for the last time, there were cast members and characters out cheering, and all I could do was give a little "oh well, that sucked" shrug of the shoulders. I think I may have even said that to a few people.

In the end, I somehow (ha ha ha) managed to run a 1:41:32, which considering how darn sick I was isn't too bad. Just way slower than I had hoped to run. Oh well. I was 333rd overall out of 10,000+ and 37th in my age group. I still think its kind of weird to be disappointed in finishing that high, but it is definitely my worst performance at this race. I managed to get over it pretty quick though, mainly because the 3 days after the race I couldn't get out of bed. Yeah, guess I was pretty freaking sick. And maybe still a bit jet lagged too :) Here's hoping for a better race next year!

The best run EVER!

One of the main reasons we took our trip over to Europe in August was to be the witnesses for our friends Lisa and Peter's wedding in Switzerland. When they lived in Spokane, Peter and I used to run together, so I was excited to try and get in a run with him during our stay in the Swiss Alps.

Running in Amsterdam and London was cool (got to run with my friend Eric thru St James' Park, which was awesome), but getting out of the big cities and into the clean, crisp air of Switzerland was, literally, a wonderful breath of fresh air. The Interlaken/Grindelwald area is a hotbed of outdoor sports, so I was psyched to do a run and soak in at least some of the energy.


On the morning of the wedding, Peter and I got up early and headed up the valley to the small town of Lauterbrunnen. All of the towns around Interlaken look like they are right out of the movies...exactly what you would picture of a Swiss Alpine village, and Lauterbrunnen had its fair share of chalets.


We took off up the main road at a crazy pace thanks to Peter, and after about 5 min my legs and lungs were screaming for some more oxygen. But the sights that I had all around totally took away any pain my body was feeling. After leaving town, we set out up a narrow road with small farms and chalets on either side, jammed up against the sides of the sheer gorge walls. I am not kidding when I say the gorge we were in must have been 1000 feet deep. Made the Columbia River Gorge look like a small drainage ditch. Every now and then, we passed a thin veil of water cascading down the walls of the gorge, and within a mile, we found ourselves running beside a raging glacier-fed river. I couldn't decide whether to stare at the strangely emerald-green water (due to the minerals in the glaciers) or up at the glaciers themselves, which were on all sides. We came around a bend and were treated to an amazing view of the Jungfrau, one of the most famous peaks in the Swiss Alps.


Thankfully, as we continued to climb, Peter slowed the pace, but the scenery just would not stop. 3 miles in, and we decided to head back down the valley. As we made our way back to town, we watched para-gliders and parachutists who had jumped off the top of the cliffs, and were buzzed by helicopters ferrying tourists up to the glaciers.


It was about this time that I started noticing that there were kilometer markers out on the road leading back to town, and people were out putting up sponsor banners on bridges and houses. Hmmmm, could a race be in town?? As it turns out, later that weekend was the Inferno Triathlon. Peter guessed that it was "a big dose of hell in this little part of heaven" After checking out their website, he could not have been more right. Something like a 2 mile swim in a glacier-fed lake, a 90 mile road ride up (and I do mean UP) to Grindelwald, a 19 mile mountain bike thru the mountains, and finishing up with a 15 mile run from Lauterbrunnen UP to the top of the gorge. One of these days, I am so doing this race!!! Check it out: http://www.inferno.ch/


Anyway, we got back into town and Peter promptly dropped me with a devastating downhill kick (I think that he and Steve must have conferred before we came over), and I totally flailed down the hill to the car. We mapped it out later, and it was a good solid 10k. My legs hurt like hell, but I desparately wished it could have been 100k. Amazing scenery, clean mountain air, running with a buddy who I haven't run with in forever....I have run thousands of miles in lots of different places, but this one was without a doubt the best run I have ever had. I just wish we had thought to bring a camera. Damn! But, these picts capture some of the scenery...






And to top off the day, Lisa and Peter got married! Overall, it was a pretty great day.

A+ .... Paris style!

In honor of my awesome A+ team, I decided to bring a little bit of the A+ mojo to Paris.


Try #1.... not bad, sporting the Tri Fusion look, but it must be better!

Try #2.... getting better, but not true A+ quality

And there it is...the money shot!!!

Special thanks to Andy, who put up with many, many versions. This whole photo shoot took about a half hour, and we certainly looked like the typical American tourists doing dumb things in Europe. But oh, if they only knew of the A+ love!!

Playing catch up -- Troika and CDA Olympic

Well, its been way too long since I blogged, and a ton has happened since my last post. So, in an attempt to get back on track, I'll do an all-in-one summary of my last 2 tri's of the season.

First up was Troika, a local 1/2 Ironman that I did for the first time last year. That race didn't go so well, mainly because that was the race where my plantar faciitis started. Foot pain aside, I really didn't have a good race in 07, so this year my goal was to do a more consistent, smarter effort. Other than that, I didn't have any time or placing goals in mind...this race was going to be purely a race against myself.

2 other things weighed on my mind going into Troika: one, I absolutely despise this distance, because I have never figured out if I should try and go fast (like an olympic) or go slower and enjoy the day (like Ironman). My 2 previous 1/2's have been miserable. In fact, I think they were both tougher on me than any of my 3 Ironmans. Second, I was still getting used to my new, more aggressive bike position, and I was a bit worried how my body would hold up over 56 miles.

All things considered, however, I felt great race morning: rested, confident in my training, and ready for a good day. We got to Medical Lake very early, to secure a primo transition spot, and I spent a good hour trying to stay warm before the sun came up.

Feeling relaxed, ready for a good day.

Hmmmm, these arms look a bit wimpy...no wonder I get killed in the swim

Speaking of the swim, it was ok, but nothing to write home about. My effort was nice and even, and I felt like I stayed on course pretty well. By this point in the season, I know that I am going to be way down coming out of the water, and I've learned to not get stressed or bummed about it. So mentally, it was a good swim. Got some good cheers from my Tri Fusion friends on the way up to T1 and was out of my wetsuit and on to the bike in no time! I am really happy with how my T1's have improved this year...I'll attribute it to my awesome B70 wetsuit (way easier to get out of) and clipping my shoes onto my bike before the race.

Off I go!

This year, I held myself back on the first 15 miles of the bike, and it really paid off. I still passed a bunch of people, but I didn't feel like I was pushing.

Me and my new, more aero bike position. I like the looks of this waaaaayyyy better than in the past...much less upper torso exposure to the wind.

Hmmmm, still looking a little upright, but could be the fact that I'm 40 miles in....still smiling at least!

My bike time was 2:33, almost 5 min faster than last year, and coming off the bike I felt amazingly fresh.

My "steady/consistent effort" goal went right out the window when I started the run...I blazed out of T2 at close to 7:00 pace (aka way too fast for me in a half). The good news was that I caught up to a guy who seemed to be running my pace, and I settled in next to him. Imagine my good fortune when I asked his name. Steve! It just would not do to be racing with anyone whose name was anything other than Steve. Again, more awesome cheers from the gang, including Trish on the mega-fusion, kept me clicking along nicely. I still have not yet gotten used to the idea of hearing my name before I can even see the cheer squad :) In fact, Troika Steve even commented once on how many people out there seemed to know me. I told him I was famous. Ok, not really, but still, its pretty freaking cool to have a ton of support out there. I was doing fine until I hit Mile 8, and then I had to struggle to get home in one piece. After leaving Troika Steve in the dust, "local Steve" and Team Thompson found me and were nice enough to yell some encouraging words out the car window. Something like "it hurts the same whether you are going fast or slow, so you might as well go fast". Ha. Whatever. Their presence, although annoying because it meant I couldn't walk, was awesome, and I'm sure was the main reason I was able to get to the line in under 5 hours. Barely. My finish time was 4:57:50. All in all, a darn good day. I still don't like 1/2's, but this one was the best one of the 3 I have done.

The next week, it was time for the long-awaited rematch between Steve and I, and there was quite a bit of friendly trash talking in the days leading up to the race. It sounded like there were going to be quite a few Tri Fusion folks out either racing or watching, so there was a little added pressure.

My mom-in-law Jennifer and my sis-in-law Megan happened to be coming thru town on their way to moving Megan to Seattle from Connecticut, and they were nice enough to get up at some crazy hour to come out and cheer me on. The weather was a bit dicey as we arrived at the race, with intermittent rain showers coming thru. Apparantly my cheer crew got caught in the middle of one......

At least they had their Starbucks to keep them warm :)

Phaedra tries to keep the peace between the combatants pre race.....

The start was the usual thrash, and even though Steve and I started sort of near eachother on the beach, I knew he was going to be outta sight in a hurry. So, imagine my suprise when, about 100m in, I caught up to him as he was treading water trying to fix his goggles. He got going again just as I was passing him (not sure if he knew it was me next to him at the time), and soon enough he was pulling away. For a moment I had a notion of trying to get on his feet and let him pull me thru, but a moment of hesitation and that good idea was no more. Oh well...I was prepared to give up some major time to him on the swim, cause he's been swimming like a maniac at the master's swims. Overall, I was happy with my swim (including the heavy downpour that went over us...kind of a cool feeling), and I just caught a glimpse of Steve-o heading to the mount line with his bike as I was getting to my transition spot. Ok, so at least he's within reach.

Once out on the bike, I put the hammer down to catch him as soon as possible. As another testament to how damn well we know eachother, Steve said his goal was to hold me off on the bike until we hit the hill on Yellowstone. Anyone care to guess the precise moment when I caught him? Yep, just as we turned onto the hill. I went by him pretty quick, and I heard him say something choice, but I couldn't respond because I was in major O2 debt. He responded very well and we pretty much stayed together for the rest of the ride. I'm betting that I only ever got 15-20 seconds ahead of him. After he passed me going down the last big hill (the road was wet, and its a scary descent when its dry, so I was too wussy to push it), I went back by him on the flats and was a whopping 4 seconds up on him going into T2. About 0.75 min later, we had both exited T2, with Steve dropping the top T2 time of the 669 racers, and me having the second fastest T2. Sweet! He took 2 seconds off of my lead, so it was about as close as it could be heading to the run. This run was going to prove to be a barn-burner, super fun to watch, and intense to be part of.

I ran my butt off out of the park, wondering if I could put any time on Steve-o early. Turns out I did (about 15-20 sec thru 3 miles), but not because of my "amazing" running speed. He had to stop and, uh, use the facilities somewhere around mile 2. Of course I didn't know it at the time. I just thought it might be my day. Ha ha ha. Even though I never once turned around to see where he was, I could just somehow :) feel that I was putting time on him. At mile 2, I decided to see how far I could get until he caught me, thinking that if I could hold him off until mile 4, I might have a shot, that maybe I would have run his kick out of his legs making him chase me. A few other folks passed me, and every time one did, I had a moment of terror that it was Steve-o, and then the glorious relief that it wasn't him! Until mile 3.5, that is. The gap erased, it was now him in control, and me hanging on for dear life. In another example of how split second decisions can make all the difference, when he went by me, I had to put in a surge to get to his shoulder, and if I hadn't, I am convinced that I would have faded fast and he would have beaten me by about 15 min. But, I survived the 10 sec of pain to stay with him, and then we settled into the closing acts of the battle royale. Stride for stride we went, with teammates going the other way cheering us on, and one guy even saying "hey look, twins!" as we went by. Mile 4, still together. Mile 5, shoulder to shoulder. I was hurting, but it was so much fun, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I felt like we were rock star pros out there, battling it out for the overall win. I had a quick flashback to fight-to-the-death high school cross country races, and I was loving it!

Into the final mile, Steve started testing me by putting in a few well-timed surges. I managed to cover them all, but it was painful every time. Had I remembered my old cross country tactics, I should have put in a re-surge once I caught him, but it was really all I could do just to get back to his shoulder. Coming into the final 800m, I knew there was a short downhill, and I sensed my doom was approaching fast. Steve can run down hills fast....I can't. Game, set, match. He surged at precisely the right moment, I couldn't cover, and just like that it was all over. I'd like to think that if the last elevation change on the course had been UP rather than DOWN, the outcome would have been different, but it doesn't matter. Today, Steve-o was 17 seconds better than me, and he deserves every bit of glory he wants to take. The great thing about training and racing with him, though, is the only glory he chose to take was a few lighthearted jokes. As soon as it was over, we were back to the friendly teammates we've always been. Awesome. It was a hell of a battle, and we were both trying to drive eachother into the ground, and as soon as we hit the tape, it was over.

So, now Steve has his victory, and its all tied up 1-1. Can't wait for the next one!!

En route to Maggie Moos, after an A+ day!!

P.S. Other than "beat Steve", my only other goal for this race was to finish anywhere OTHER than 4th in my age group. The last 2 years, I have been 4th, and it sucks. Once place away from the medal stand. Even though I know it really comes down to who shows up, finishing 4th for some reason pisses me off. So this year, I would have been happy with 5th, 6th, heck, 12th. Just not 4th!!! Please!

Because I couldn't bring myself to see it for myself, Steve was gentle as he broke the bad news to me...4th again! WHAT THE HELL?!?!?! 3 freaking years in a row?!?! You cannot be serious! The only thing that softened the blow was that I would have had to go 4 min faster to get 3rd, which I know is impossible. Oh well, maybe if this keeps up, in like 15 years they'll give me something for consistently being "oh so close" :)