After languishing (on vacation and otherwise) for two months, having finished my first, triumphant though slightly surreal sprint triathlon, I finally decided that the best way to get my motivation back was to sign up for another one.
In retrospect, I was somehow able to minimize the sleeplessness, race day jitters, and the overwhelming feeling that I did not know what the heck I was doing, and maximize the memories of that great big grin I wore from the time I got out of the water to the time I finished the run. So yes, I'm doing it again, determined this time to do it just a little bit better and faster than before. Please, please make the water just a tad warmer. Just a tad.
(And if anyone in California or Seattle knows of someone who has a 54cm (cm? mm?) women's road bike for sale that won't break my bank, you can find me on facebook!)
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
What It Was Like
Pre-race: I couldn't sleep past five a.m. for the four days before the race, so on race day, I got up at quarter to five and took a shower. Wasn't planning on taking one, but though I was up, I wasn't awake, and I needed the hot water. Fed the dogs. Made a smoothie, drank it, even though my stomach was jumping with nerves. Took my vitamins. Contemplated coffee. Made some, but didn't drink it. Thought through my race gear. Finally woke up Mike and Grandpa at 5:30 and we were out the door by 5:50.
Grandpa and I made it to the gates by 6:36, and the parking lot was already 3/4 full. As we drove in slowly past the "LOT FULL" signs, racers pushed their bikes like pilgrims through the rain to the check-in, lining both sides of the road. No smiles yet. I had to leave him at the car to wait for Mike while I made the long, long walk with my bike and gear to the transition set-up area. On the way, I heard someone say, "Are we crazy? Yes, we are."
Set up as best I could in the transition area, considering it was raining and nothing could be laid out neatly as planned. Checked in. Shared my extra safety pins and with a fellow racer. Chatted with the nice competitors next to me, male and female. Everyone was in a good mood in spite of the weather. Everyone except for the late arrival who shouted, "This SUCKS!" and ran, presumably, the two miles back to his car for the cursed missing piece of gear. And the woman who was sure that she could hang just one more bike on the teetering rack next to us and it would be just fine. (It wasn't.)
Wetsuit went on fairly easy. Wearing socks helps it over the feet, and having shorts and a rash guard on underneath allowed it to slide up much easier than that first naked, sweaty try-on at home when I was sure it was too tight and the wrong size. Cap, goggles, chip. Ready!
The Swim: 58 degrees. I still feel just a tiny bit sick to my stomach when I think about the start of the swim. Gray sky, drizzling rain, hundreds of yellow-capped penguins all standing barefoot on cold, squishy mud, hopping from foot to freezing foot. Thinking about stretching but shivering instead, chanting, Start, Start, Start inside our heads. Then, according to the rules at this particular race, we ambled forward in rigid and reluctant groups toward the shore and walked in, starting in "waves".
I was in the third wave, having waited just long enough to see which buoy to swim to first (and watch one freezing, Speedo-clad contestant back-stroking back to the shore). All I could think of for the first four minutes was "WHAT the hell am I doing? WHY did I get myself into this? This is NO FUN. This is STUPID. I am STUPID. This is f**&%%ing COLD." But I kept telling myself that it was a fifteen minute swim and no matter what, it would be over in fifteen minutes. As I neared the first buoy, I started to get out of the crowd and into a rhythm. It still felt like it was really far from one marker to the next. Time was slowed way down. It was reassuring to hear my watch go off at the first five-minute interval and realize that I was swimming the first leg of the triangle steadily and hadn't frozen or hyperventilated. I passed people, and people also passed me. I felt strong for the rest of the swim.
A tri-curious friend asked if I got "beat up" on the swim. I did not, and I don't think anyone else did either. Because of the wave starts, the more aggressive, time-driven people have a chance to go out first. Everyone in the wave gets the same start time, so everyone starts when they start, rather than feeling that they are losing time by not leaving the shore immediately. So yes, people touched each other, ran into each other a little, but it was good-natured and thinned out by about midway. It clustered up a little around each buoy and at the end, but no one got hurt as far as I know. A couple of people got too cold and had to be towed or escorted back in. Did I mention that the water temperature was 58 degrees? When I was out, I was just glad to be out and headed for the bike. My feet were so cold as I trotted up the ramp (wasn't really a run, but faster than a walk) that I didn't notice the rocks, the bruises from which a massage therapist found on the bottoms of my feet on Monday.
Later that day, I wondered if I could have gone harder or faster, but it was hard to tell exactly how hard I was working, between the water temperature, the people, and the adrenaline. My muscles told me the next day that I worked plenty hard.
Bike: In retrospect, this was the most fun part. Probably because I feared it the most, and I took it easier because of the wet pavement. Took me a little longer to get my wetsuit off and get geared up than I'd hoped. I missed the neatly laid-out towel o' gear that I had planned for, due to the still-drizzling rain, and I had to fish a couple of things out of my bag. But all went well for the most part, and off I went, loaded up with enough snacks and fluids for an ironman.
I got a tip prior to the race that I should wear a nylon swim cap under my helmet to prevent the cold wind from whistling through the holes. I popped it on as soon as I took off my yellow race cap, but forgot to readjust my ponytail from "goggle-holder" position. This is the reason I look like a total loony toon in all of the pictures of me on the bike.
I had a really good time riding, knowing that the dreaded cold-water portion of my day was over, and there was nothing but dryness and a shower in my future, so first of all, I am smiling in all of the pictures. But the black cap is creeping forward over my face, and the helmet, which never quite settled over the button of my wet ponytail, is following it. So I look a little like a kid who takes the short bus, minus the elbow pads, plus the fancy bike and neon yellow windbreaker. I was one of, I think, three people in the race in a neon yellow wind-breaker. (I love that damn windbreaker. It's light as a feather, rain-proof, and keeps cars from hitting me.) Mike photographed all of them approaching, just in case it was me.
About halfway out, I saw the leaders zooming back down the hill to race central. They all looked like lean, powerful, biking machines. I beamed encouragingly at their blurs as they passed and tried to keep my cadence up.
There were a couple of women who made little circles with me, falling back or moving ahead of each other according to our strengths. A big girl in red zoomed by me on the flats, then fell back on the hills. Another woman in a black one-piece tri-suit huffed and puffed and dropped and ascended, eventually leaving me behind. At one point, I was overtaken by a jingling, squeaking, clanking apparition of a man on a very old bike-- in a tri-suit so worn and threadbare that it could have been painted on. From the back at least. Thank goodness I didn't see the front.
Except for the helmet slowly slipping over my eyes, and the constant debate about whether or not to disobey Mike's specific request NOT to take my windbreaker sleeves off without stopping the bike, I had a great, steady ride, not falling down (goal number 2) and coming in, in the end, in just about the time I'd estimated. There were a couple of times I started thinking that I actually liked triathloning, and wondering what I'd do differently in the next one, and I had to remind myself to BE HERE NOW, doing this one.
The Run: This was my shortest transition, as it only required the removal of the helmet and windbreaker, and the change from biking to running shoes. Got a little stuck getting the windbreaker off, since in my indecisiveness I had partially unzipped it and disconnected the sleeves from the body. Note to self: do not do this in the future. Much easier to get sleeves off if attached. I was momentarily trapped in just the sleeves, which would have meant running in a fluorescent yellow shrug. Stylish, but not necessarily practical. Eventually I got it off.
I should mention that Mike had (amazingly and skillfully) successfully located and transported Grandpa to a spectating spot less than ten feet from where all this is taking place. The two of them coached me brightly through the transitions from the sidelines under their umbrellas, through rain and shine. Mike reminded me of the items in my checklist (Got your water? Gloves? Want a Coke? Did you eat something?) and Grandpa just beamed and said, "Good job, Tamara!" (About the time I came in for the run, the event winners were being announced over the loudspeakers. Such is sprinting.)
It felt good to be near the end, but time was still going slowly and fast at the same time. I had done a few bike to run transitions to practice, so I expected my quads to feel numb and stump-like. But I had taken the uphills in such low gears, with such high cadence, (and so very, very slowly) that they felt ok. It was my calves that started to complain and wimp out on the first long hill. I stopped briefly and stretched. People were conking out around me. I soon discovered that the energy gummies I had stashed in my back pocket were slapping around and annoying me, so I tried to give them to anyone who even hinted that their pace might slow. I gave a few to an older woman who seemed to have a half-walk, half-fun strategy, and finally handed them off to a nice man who told me I was a lifesaver. Each time I stretched, I could not get my calves to fully un-knot themselves. (This is not an excuse.)
As we approached the last hill before the turn-around, I fought the urge to stop or to walk. Until I saw everyone else (at this point, it's everyone else who is in the middle of the pack) slow down and some walk. My goals at the start were: 1) finish, 2) don't fall down, and 3) have fun, so although I had thrown some last-minute sub-goals on there, like 3a) no walking, I decided that I had a better chance of making the first three if I threw that one back out. The battle really is in the head more than in the body. So I walked, very fast, mind you, and while attempting to stretch my calves, the last ten yards to the water station, took a cup of water, drank half and dumped the rest on my head, and turned to run all the way back to the finish line. How thoughtful of the race organizers for making sure the last portion of the run was downhill.
The Finish: Rather than encouraging zooming all the way in to the weirdly off-kilter finish line via the smooth and downwardly sloping pavement, the organizers also thoughtfully eliminate potential speed-related accidents by adding in a section of up and down, twisting, soft-soiled pathways en route. So in the pictures, you can see me running picturesquely through the dusky countryside, sort of unevenly thumping and bumping. I was wishing I had the juice to finish spectacularly and sprint in with big strides eating up the distance, but it wasn't going to happen. I kept running, though. As I approached the line, I DID IT! I DID IT! started to ring in my mind, and I saw Mike behind the line, behind the camera, and I couldn't stop smiling. I was so proud of myself for doing something that I've always wanted to do, but never believed that I would, or could.
I can start belittling myself, for the short distance, or the fact that I took the hills easy or walked a little, or any number of things, but the fact is, I did it. I never thought I could, and I did. It wasn't easy, it was hard. The training up to that point took commitment, and faith that if I just did a little bit, every day, I could do it. And I did. And that is something to be proud of.
Grandpa and I made it to the gates by 6:36, and the parking lot was already 3/4 full. As we drove in slowly past the "LOT FULL" signs, racers pushed their bikes like pilgrims through the rain to the check-in, lining both sides of the road. No smiles yet. I had to leave him at the car to wait for Mike while I made the long, long walk with my bike and gear to the transition set-up area. On the way, I heard someone say, "Are we crazy? Yes, we are."
Set up as best I could in the transition area, considering it was raining and nothing could be laid out neatly as planned. Checked in. Shared my extra safety pins and with a fellow racer. Chatted with the nice competitors next to me, male and female. Everyone was in a good mood in spite of the weather. Everyone except for the late arrival who shouted, "This SUCKS!" and ran, presumably, the two miles back to his car for the cursed missing piece of gear. And the woman who was sure that she could hang just one more bike on the teetering rack next to us and it would be just fine. (It wasn't.)
Wetsuit went on fairly easy. Wearing socks helps it over the feet, and having shorts and a rash guard on underneath allowed it to slide up much easier than that first naked, sweaty try-on at home when I was sure it was too tight and the wrong size. Cap, goggles, chip. Ready!
The Swim: 58 degrees. I still feel just a tiny bit sick to my stomach when I think about the start of the swim. Gray sky, drizzling rain, hundreds of yellow-capped penguins all standing barefoot on cold, squishy mud, hopping from foot to freezing foot. Thinking about stretching but shivering instead, chanting, Start, Start, Start inside our heads. Then, according to the rules at this particular race, we ambled forward in rigid and reluctant groups toward the shore and walked in, starting in "waves".
I was in the third wave, having waited just long enough to see which buoy to swim to first (and watch one freezing, Speedo-clad contestant back-stroking back to the shore). All I could think of for the first four minutes was "WHAT the hell am I doing? WHY did I get myself into this? This is NO FUN. This is STUPID. I am STUPID. This is f**&%%ing COLD." But I kept telling myself that it was a fifteen minute swim and no matter what, it would be over in fifteen minutes. As I neared the first buoy, I started to get out of the crowd and into a rhythm. It still felt like it was really far from one marker to the next. Time was slowed way down. It was reassuring to hear my watch go off at the first five-minute interval and realize that I was swimming the first leg of the triangle steadily and hadn't frozen or hyperventilated. I passed people, and people also passed me. I felt strong for the rest of the swim.
A tri-curious friend asked if I got "beat up" on the swim. I did not, and I don't think anyone else did either. Because of the wave starts, the more aggressive, time-driven people have a chance to go out first. Everyone in the wave gets the same start time, so everyone starts when they start, rather than feeling that they are losing time by not leaving the shore immediately. So yes, people touched each other, ran into each other a little, but it was good-natured and thinned out by about midway. It clustered up a little around each buoy and at the end, but no one got hurt as far as I know. A couple of people got too cold and had to be towed or escorted back in. Did I mention that the water temperature was 58 degrees? When I was out, I was just glad to be out and headed for the bike. My feet were so cold as I trotted up the ramp (wasn't really a run, but faster than a walk) that I didn't notice the rocks, the bruises from which a massage therapist found on the bottoms of my feet on Monday.
Later that day, I wondered if I could have gone harder or faster, but it was hard to tell exactly how hard I was working, between the water temperature, the people, and the adrenaline. My muscles told me the next day that I worked plenty hard.
Bike: In retrospect, this was the most fun part. Probably because I feared it the most, and I took it easier because of the wet pavement. Took me a little longer to get my wetsuit off and get geared up than I'd hoped. I missed the neatly laid-out towel o' gear that I had planned for, due to the still-drizzling rain, and I had to fish a couple of things out of my bag. But all went well for the most part, and off I went, loaded up with enough snacks and fluids for an ironman.
I got a tip prior to the race that I should wear a nylon swim cap under my helmet to prevent the cold wind from whistling through the holes. I popped it on as soon as I took off my yellow race cap, but forgot to readjust my ponytail from "goggle-holder" position. This is the reason I look like a total loony toon in all of the pictures of me on the bike.
I had a really good time riding, knowing that the dreaded cold-water portion of my day was over, and there was nothing but dryness and a shower in my future, so first of all, I am smiling in all of the pictures. But the black cap is creeping forward over my face, and the helmet, which never quite settled over the button of my wet ponytail, is following it. So I look a little like a kid who takes the short bus, minus the elbow pads, plus the fancy bike and neon yellow windbreaker. I was one of, I think, three people in the race in a neon yellow wind-breaker. (I love that damn windbreaker. It's light as a feather, rain-proof, and keeps cars from hitting me.) Mike photographed all of them approaching, just in case it was me.
About halfway out, I saw the leaders zooming back down the hill to race central. They all looked like lean, powerful, biking machines. I beamed encouragingly at their blurs as they passed and tried to keep my cadence up.
There were a couple of women who made little circles with me, falling back or moving ahead of each other according to our strengths. A big girl in red zoomed by me on the flats, then fell back on the hills. Another woman in a black one-piece tri-suit huffed and puffed and dropped and ascended, eventually leaving me behind. At one point, I was overtaken by a jingling, squeaking, clanking apparition of a man on a very old bike-- in a tri-suit so worn and threadbare that it could have been painted on. From the back at least. Thank goodness I didn't see the front.
Except for the helmet slowly slipping over my eyes, and the constant debate about whether or not to disobey Mike's specific request NOT to take my windbreaker sleeves off without stopping the bike, I had a great, steady ride, not falling down (goal number 2) and coming in, in the end, in just about the time I'd estimated. There were a couple of times I started thinking that I actually liked triathloning, and wondering what I'd do differently in the next one, and I had to remind myself to BE HERE NOW, doing this one.
The Run: This was my shortest transition, as it only required the removal of the helmet and windbreaker, and the change from biking to running shoes. Got a little stuck getting the windbreaker off, since in my indecisiveness I had partially unzipped it and disconnected the sleeves from the body. Note to self: do not do this in the future. Much easier to get sleeves off if attached. I was momentarily trapped in just the sleeves, which would have meant running in a fluorescent yellow shrug. Stylish, but not necessarily practical. Eventually I got it off.
I should mention that Mike had (amazingly and skillfully) successfully located and transported Grandpa to a spectating spot less than ten feet from where all this is taking place. The two of them coached me brightly through the transitions from the sidelines under their umbrellas, through rain and shine. Mike reminded me of the items in my checklist (Got your water? Gloves? Want a Coke? Did you eat something?) and Grandpa just beamed and said, "Good job, Tamara!" (About the time I came in for the run, the event winners were being announced over the loudspeakers. Such is sprinting.)
It felt good to be near the end, but time was still going slowly and fast at the same time. I had done a few bike to run transitions to practice, so I expected my quads to feel numb and stump-like. But I had taken the uphills in such low gears, with such high cadence, (and so very, very slowly) that they felt ok. It was my calves that started to complain and wimp out on the first long hill. I stopped briefly and stretched. People were conking out around me. I soon discovered that the energy gummies I had stashed in my back pocket were slapping around and annoying me, so I tried to give them to anyone who even hinted that their pace might slow. I gave a few to an older woman who seemed to have a half-walk, half-fun strategy, and finally handed them off to a nice man who told me I was a lifesaver. Each time I stretched, I could not get my calves to fully un-knot themselves. (This is not an excuse.)
As we approached the last hill before the turn-around, I fought the urge to stop or to walk. Until I saw everyone else (at this point, it's everyone else who is in the middle of the pack) slow down and some walk. My goals at the start were: 1) finish, 2) don't fall down, and 3) have fun, so although I had thrown some last-minute sub-goals on there, like 3a) no walking, I decided that I had a better chance of making the first three if I threw that one back out. The battle really is in the head more than in the body. So I walked, very fast, mind you, and while attempting to stretch my calves, the last ten yards to the water station, took a cup of water, drank half and dumped the rest on my head, and turned to run all the way back to the finish line. How thoughtful of the race organizers for making sure the last portion of the run was downhill.
The Finish: Rather than encouraging zooming all the way in to the weirdly off-kilter finish line via the smooth and downwardly sloping pavement, the organizers also thoughtfully eliminate potential speed-related accidents by adding in a section of up and down, twisting, soft-soiled pathways en route. So in the pictures, you can see me running picturesquely through the dusky countryside, sort of unevenly thumping and bumping. I was wishing I had the juice to finish spectacularly and sprint in with big strides eating up the distance, but it wasn't going to happen. I kept running, though. As I approached the line, I DID IT! I DID IT! started to ring in my mind, and I saw Mike behind the line, behind the camera, and I couldn't stop smiling. I was so proud of myself for doing something that I've always wanted to do, but never believed that I would, or could.
I can start belittling myself, for the short distance, or the fact that I took the hills easy or walked a little, or any number of things, but the fact is, I did it. I never thought I could, and I did. It wasn't easy, it was hard. The training up to that point took commitment, and faith that if I just did a little bit, every day, I could do it. And I did. And that is something to be proud of.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Packing List for a Tropical Vacation
On to the next thing...
We're off on our annual anniversary trip next week. This is my complete packing list from last year's post-vacation post. What I took really worked. I used everything and it fit in one bag. Thought if anyone else was taking a trip this summer, it might come in handy for you, too.
My packing list:
flip flops (black- worn to airport, too)
tevas (for rugged terrain- black)
running shoes (not necessary if you don't run, or substitute a waterproof running shoe for both teva and running and save more space. If you plan to horseback ride or lava hike, be sure to take at least one covered shoe.)
hat- soft, packable (neutral tan color)
at least 2 swimsuits (mix and match is best- dark colors)
(I took 1 one piece suit for surfing- light blue print)
rashguard
board shorts
cotton shorts, knee length (dark brown)
2-3 cotton tissue t-shirts, short-sleeved (sea-blue, white, green)
1 loose fitting cotton t-shirt with surf logo (light blue)
1 light tissue cotton or performance t-shirt, long-sleeved (white)
cotton capri/pants (white)
knee-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
thigh-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
long-sleeved Indian-type cotton blouse (light blue)
long-sleeved sheer pretty print blouse/cover-up (green, brown, blue, tan)
sleeveless cotton yoga/athletic top (brown)
3 cotton camisoles (white, black, sea-blue)
(underwear, at least one pair for each day of the trip before wash day mid-way)
1 dark bra, 1 beige, 1 running bra
packable rain jacket (grass-green, super-light, packs to 2x4x5")
light wrap/sweater for the evening and the airplane (mine is bright blue)
1-2 pairs running socks
1 pair short black sockettes
My top five items:
-thin-strap black flip-flops with arch support (here's one source, mine are Reefs)
A little bit of arch support is crucial for day-to-day comfort. If the shoes are too spongy or thick, I also find that the rebound affects my knee injury. In Hawai'i, flip flops are appropriate for all but the most dressed-up affairs. I find thinner straps more versatile.
-knee-length, non-shiny yoga-type shorts (black)
-light-colored, long-sleeved Indian cotton blouse (light blue)
-reef-safe and UVA/UVB sunscreen
-at least two swimsuits (two-piece, mix and match)
What I wish I had:
Halter-style, good coverage beach/casual dress (maybe this one, maybe not, I wanted something soft and drapey)
Environmentally friendly mosquito repellant
Short skirt, wrinkle-proof (Prana makes this cool brown one.) It isn't really necessary with all of the other bottoms I brought, but I find I lean more towards pants and shorts, and sometimes I like to look a little more girly.
reef booties- easy to walk to rocky snorkel spots and comfy on the feet-- super dorky, though
What I brought that I didn't use:
2 pairs cotton shorts (light stone)
1 band-collar long-sleeved cotton shirt (white)
tan leather flip flops- these just weren't as comfortable as the black ones
printed cotton dress- wasn't very flattering on
nightgown
I wore a comfortable black cotton top with a light sweater (also black- travel can be dirty) and jeans for the drive to and from the airport, and I always bring a wrap of some kind because the plane gets cold. I take a structured purse/tote with a zippered middle pocket for the plane, and carry a small zippered wallet instead of a purse throughout the trip. When I don't wear shoes with socks to the airport, I bring little black sockies to slip on through security. These little sockies have also come in handy as indoor slippers and even reef booties to save my feet from fin rub blisters.
In general, the clothes I took were neutrals, with accents of light and dark blue and some green. My light long-sleeved tops were hip to fingertip length for butt coverage. Camisoles and undies or short yoga shorts double as jammies. Short yoga shorts went over suit bottoms to and from the beach.
I try to bridge temperatures by bringing light-colored, long-sleeved items and a few dark-colored, short-sleeved items, so that if it's a little chilly, the sun will warm me up, and if it's a little warm, I'll reflect the sun's rays and stay covered and cool. The temperature when we were in Hawai'i was very moderate, 70s to mid-80s, so I used the long-sleeved pieces more than I might have in hotter weather. The t-shirts I took were inexpensive tissue-tees, in colors that I think are flattering on me.
The only jewelry I took was my every day wear: silver hoops and a weighty silver choker with a white mother of pearl pendant.
On many days, I wore my swimsuit top throughout the day, so make sure yours is supportive and flattering, and take at least two so you'll always have a dry one. Big prints are more obvious than solids or narrow stripes if they show through a shirt or cover-up. I like a halter style that ties. If you're driving around the islands, you may change elevation and temperature, so I always threw the rain jacket, an extra layer and the tevas or tennies in the car just in case.
Don't forget: sunglasses, sunscreen, music (airplane headphones if you have them from another trip), a good book for downtime. Waterproof bandaids and antibiotic ointment. Hand-sani.
Remember, when you are curious, compassionate and joyful, you look your best. (Thanks, Susan Sarandon for that quote.) Have a great trip, wherever you go!
We're off on our annual anniversary trip next week. This is my complete packing list from last year's post-vacation post. What I took really worked. I used everything and it fit in one bag. Thought if anyone else was taking a trip this summer, it might come in handy for you, too.
My packing list:
flip flops (black- worn to airport, too)
tevas (for rugged terrain- black)
running shoes (not necessary if you don't run, or substitute a waterproof running shoe for both teva and running and save more space. If you plan to horseback ride or lava hike, be sure to take at least one covered shoe.)
hat- soft, packable (neutral tan color)
at least 2 swimsuits (mix and match is best- dark colors)
(I took 1 one piece suit for surfing- light blue print)
rashguard
board shorts
cotton shorts, knee length (dark brown)
2-3 cotton tissue t-shirts, short-sleeved (sea-blue, white, green)
1 loose fitting cotton t-shirt with surf logo (light blue)
1 light tissue cotton or performance t-shirt, long-sleeved (white)
cotton capri/pants (white)
knee-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
thigh-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
long-sleeved Indian-type cotton blouse (light blue)
long-sleeved sheer pretty print blouse/cover-up (green, brown, blue, tan)
sleeveless cotton yoga/athletic top (brown)
3 cotton camisoles (white, black, sea-blue)
(underwear, at least one pair for each day of the trip before wash day mid-way)
1 dark bra, 1 beige, 1 running bra
packable rain jacket (grass-green, super-light, packs to 2x4x5")
light wrap/sweater for the evening and the airplane (mine is bright blue)
1-2 pairs running socks
1 pair short black sockettes
My top five items:
-thin-strap black flip-flops with arch support (here's one source, mine are Reefs)
A little bit of arch support is crucial for day-to-day comfort. If the shoes are too spongy or thick, I also find that the rebound affects my knee injury. In Hawai'i, flip flops are appropriate for all but the most dressed-up affairs. I find thinner straps more versatile.
-knee-length, non-shiny yoga-type shorts (black)
-light-colored, long-sleeved Indian cotton blouse (light blue)
-reef-safe and UVA/UVB sunscreen
-at least two swimsuits (two-piece, mix and match)
What I wish I had:
Halter-style, good coverage beach/casual dress (maybe this one, maybe not, I wanted something soft and drapey)
Environmentally friendly mosquito repellant
Short skirt, wrinkle-proof (Prana makes this cool brown one.) It isn't really necessary with all of the other bottoms I brought, but I find I lean more towards pants and shorts, and sometimes I like to look a little more girly.
reef booties- easy to walk to rocky snorkel spots and comfy on the feet-- super dorky, though
What I brought that I didn't use:
2 pairs cotton shorts (light stone)
1 band-collar long-sleeved cotton shirt (white)
tan leather flip flops- these just weren't as comfortable as the black ones
printed cotton dress- wasn't very flattering on
nightgown
I wore a comfortable black cotton top with a light sweater (also black- travel can be dirty) and jeans for the drive to and from the airport, and I always bring a wrap of some kind because the plane gets cold. I take a structured purse/tote with a zippered middle pocket for the plane, and carry a small zippered wallet instead of a purse throughout the trip. When I don't wear shoes with socks to the airport, I bring little black sockies to slip on through security. These little sockies have also come in handy as indoor slippers and even reef booties to save my feet from fin rub blisters.
In general, the clothes I took were neutrals, with accents of light and dark blue and some green. My light long-sleeved tops were hip to fingertip length for butt coverage. Camisoles and undies or short yoga shorts double as jammies. Short yoga shorts went over suit bottoms to and from the beach.
I try to bridge temperatures by bringing light-colored, long-sleeved items and a few dark-colored, short-sleeved items, so that if it's a little chilly, the sun will warm me up, and if it's a little warm, I'll reflect the sun's rays and stay covered and cool. The temperature when we were in Hawai'i was very moderate, 70s to mid-80s, so I used the long-sleeved pieces more than I might have in hotter weather. The t-shirts I took were inexpensive tissue-tees, in colors that I think are flattering on me.
The only jewelry I took was my every day wear: silver hoops and a weighty silver choker with a white mother of pearl pendant.
On many days, I wore my swimsuit top throughout the day, so make sure yours is supportive and flattering, and take at least two so you'll always have a dry one. Big prints are more obvious than solids or narrow stripes if they show through a shirt or cover-up. I like a halter style that ties. If you're driving around the islands, you may change elevation and temperature, so I always threw the rain jacket, an extra layer and the tevas or tennies in the car just in case.
Don't forget: sunglasses, sunscreen, music (airplane headphones if you have them from another trip), a good book for downtime. Waterproof bandaids and antibiotic ointment. Hand-sani.
Remember, when you are curious, compassionate and joyful, you look your best. (Thanks, Susan Sarandon for that quote.) Have a great trip, wherever you go!
Monday, May 4, 2009
I Did It!
Forget what I said about the lake being totally fine. It was 58 degrees! Of course, that meant that it didn't matter that it rained on us, which it did right up through the middle of the bike. I reached all of my goals: 1) completing my first (sprint) triathlon, 2) having fun, and 3) not falling down. Hooray! More on the philosophical aspects of this whole thing later on. Thanks to everyone, on facebook and otherwise, who cheered me on from near and far! I appreciated every word. (PS- I came in 17th in my age group (right in the middle), fifth among chicas my size, and I was the only one in my age group and class.)
(I do not always look like such a dork-- I wore a nylon swim cap under my helmet, and it slid too far forward at the end. I remembered to bring my spare tire, too.)
(I do not always look like such a dork-- I wore a nylon swim cap under my helmet, and it slid too far forward at the end. I remembered to bring my spare tire, too.)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Lake
By the way, the test swim in the lake was fine. Not as cold as I'd feared. A little green, a little eerie, but not terrible. Aside from dodging a few floating rafts of Canadian goose poop, it was pretty fresh, too. Thanks Mary and Lucy.
Logjam!
Mike and I zipped over to Santa Cruz last Sunday for the annual Big Stick Surfing Association "Logjam". This is a really cool surf event-- all longboards and only longboards, 1970's or prior, minimum board weight 20 lbs, and no leashes allowed. It's held at Pleasure Point, which is a nice, steady break, so it seemed like everyone got some waves. Someday that'll be me. (Except that water is FREEZING.) I love the longboard style, not so shreddy, and more about enjoying as long a wave as possible than about carving it up into little bits. Plenty of women out, too.I don't know if you know this, but my grandfather used to paddle a wooden paddleboard around Capitola as a boy, and my dad used to surf here at Pleasure Point and all around Santa Cruz. Hi Dad!
Raffle prizes. Tell that guy to stop touching my board! Bummer, we didn't win the Arrow!
PS- I just know with that previous post that I've jinxed myself to have an ITB relapse and an ear infection by Sunday.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
How To Avoid Ear Infections
I've been a swimmer since I was a senior in high school. I still swim fairly regularly, and this is what I do to prevent ear infections:
First and foremost: Always be sure to let the ears dry out completely after a swim or shower. Use a hair dryer on low to make sure there's no moisture in there. Make sure wet hair isn't covering your ears if you hop out of the pool after a swim and let your hair dry naturally.
If you feel like you might have an ear infection coming on, put a little tiny bead of neosporin in your palm and roll the head of a clean cotton swab in it, so that all of the neosporin is in the swab. There should be no blobs of ointment on the swab. Roll this around in the outer ear canal only, after ears are dry.
Also, if you feel one coming on or feel dizzy, take a decongestant for a day or two. (None of this is scientifically tested, but it works for me.)
And as a last resort, if you have trouble drying out your ears on a regular basis, try a solution of 50% vinegar and 50% rubbing alcohol. Put a few drops in each ear after swimming, then tip your head from side to side to get it back out. (I think this feels icky, so I avoid it, but it was recommended by a doctor to eliminate both moisture and bacteria, for people who are especially prone to ear infections. I suppose you could put this on the cotton swab, too. I find that the alcohol stings and sometimes dries the skin of my ears out too much.)
Note: I am not a doctor or a medical professional. If you have an ear infection and it hurts, get off the internet and go see a doctor for heavens sake. Don't try any of this (except the hair dryer) on children (with supervision). Also, the cotton swab box says not to put the darn thing in your ear canal, so don't blame me if you do it anyway.
****
The other quick note I wanted to make was about my IT band issue. I saw a terrific therapist (Jacky at Saint Helena Physical Therapy), who filmed my running gait, and found that my left knee bounced in and out a little too dramatically, causing extra stress on the ITB.
After a couple of tries, she was able to find a fairly simple solution. As it turns out, my left foot was over-supinating, so she placed a couple of thin dense foam "wedges" or strips, inside the left rear of my shoe. The next few runs, I experienced a dramatic improvement. This, in combination with a set of new stretches and exercises to strengthen the lateral muscles, has pretty much eliminated the problem.
If you are experiencing pain from running of any kind, I strongly urge you to seek out a physical therapist who has experience with runner's issues so that you can run as safely and as long as possible. My insurance has a provision for "self referral"-- maybe yours does too.
(The orthopedist I saw before the therapist had said to me flatly, "You can't run three miles a day anymore, you're 42, not 22." He gave me a printout of some stretches, which included worst-case scenarios for IT band syndrome, and that was it. The first thing Jacky said when I told her was, "I don't think that's true at all. Let's take a look and see what's happening." And here I am, comfortably continuing my running routine again.)
First and foremost: Always be sure to let the ears dry out completely after a swim or shower. Use a hair dryer on low to make sure there's no moisture in there. Make sure wet hair isn't covering your ears if you hop out of the pool after a swim and let your hair dry naturally.
If you feel like you might have an ear infection coming on, put a little tiny bead of neosporin in your palm and roll the head of a clean cotton swab in it, so that all of the neosporin is in the swab. There should be no blobs of ointment on the swab. Roll this around in the outer ear canal only, after ears are dry.
Also, if you feel one coming on or feel dizzy, take a decongestant for a day or two. (None of this is scientifically tested, but it works for me.)
And as a last resort, if you have trouble drying out your ears on a regular basis, try a solution of 50% vinegar and 50% rubbing alcohol. Put a few drops in each ear after swimming, then tip your head from side to side to get it back out. (I think this feels icky, so I avoid it, but it was recommended by a doctor to eliminate both moisture and bacteria, for people who are especially prone to ear infections. I suppose you could put this on the cotton swab, too. I find that the alcohol stings and sometimes dries the skin of my ears out too much.)
Note: I am not a doctor or a medical professional. If you have an ear infection and it hurts, get off the internet and go see a doctor for heavens sake. Don't try any of this (except the hair dryer) on children (with supervision). Also, the cotton swab box says not to put the darn thing in your ear canal, so don't blame me if you do it anyway.
****
The other quick note I wanted to make was about my IT band issue. I saw a terrific therapist (Jacky at Saint Helena Physical Therapy), who filmed my running gait, and found that my left knee bounced in and out a little too dramatically, causing extra stress on the ITB.
After a couple of tries, she was able to find a fairly simple solution. As it turns out, my left foot was over-supinating, so she placed a couple of thin dense foam "wedges" or strips, inside the left rear of my shoe. The next few runs, I experienced a dramatic improvement. This, in combination with a set of new stretches and exercises to strengthen the lateral muscles, has pretty much eliminated the problem.
If you are experiencing pain from running of any kind, I strongly urge you to seek out a physical therapist who has experience with runner's issues so that you can run as safely and as long as possible. My insurance has a provision for "self referral"-- maybe yours does too.
(The orthopedist I saw before the therapist had said to me flatly, "You can't run three miles a day anymore, you're 42, not 22." He gave me a printout of some stretches, which included worst-case scenarios for IT band syndrome, and that was it. The first thing Jacky said when I told her was, "I don't think that's true at all. Let's take a look and see what's happening." And here I am, comfortably continuing my running routine again.)
Tamarasicle
It's 38 degrees this morning. The frost fans came on some time in the pre-dawn hours. Once you're used to them, they don't rouse you from a sound sleep, but if you're on the edge, their droning tends to supplement the alarm clock. Any other day, I'd roll over and snuggle deeper into the covers, knowing that Mike is going to be up shortly to let the dogs out and feed them when they wake up. But this morning, all I could think about was the lake.
In a little over three days, I'll be swimming in that lake. The lake temperatures "hover in the 70s," according to the triathlon web site, but I'm thinking they are going to be hovering closer to the mid-50s or 60s this weekend. So I got up and made a Dutch Baby with strawberries and blueberries, and let Mike sleep in.
*****
By the way, here is the simplest possible recipe for a Dutch Baby:
Preheat oven to 425
Melt 1/2 stick butter in cast iron pan
Vigorously whisk together 4 eggs, 1/2 c milk, 1/2 c flour
Swirl butter around pan edges
Pour in batter gently
Place in oven
Set timer for 20 minutes
Remove when golden, sprinkle with lemon juice and powdered sugar
*****
A friend, who is also doing the event, and I are going out to swim it this afternoon, in full gear: rashguard, tri-shorts, cap, goggles, wetsuits, maybe even earplugs to keep the icy water from swishing in and out of our ear canals. (Doesn't that just give you the shivers?) She's done it once and said it was cold, cold, cold. That was last week when it was 90 degrees. Why can't it be 90 degrees this week?
I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. That's my mantra. Gotta suit up and go for a run now; the natives are getting restless. Wish me luck!
PS- The baby birdies hatched! They are tiny and fuzzy and so vulnerable in this cold weather. We are trying to spend minimum time in the backyard so that mama bird can stay on the nest and keep them warm as much as possible. I couldn't resist a quick peek, though. Yesterday I saw one yawn, and his little yellow mouth was no bigger than my pinkie nail when it was wide open. When they are bigger and the weather is warmer, I'll try (carefully) to get a picture.
In a little over three days, I'll be swimming in that lake. The lake temperatures "hover in the 70s," according to the triathlon web site, but I'm thinking they are going to be hovering closer to the mid-50s or 60s this weekend. So I got up and made a Dutch Baby with strawberries and blueberries, and let Mike sleep in.
*****
By the way, here is the simplest possible recipe for a Dutch Baby:
Preheat oven to 425
Melt 1/2 stick butter in cast iron pan
Vigorously whisk together 4 eggs, 1/2 c milk, 1/2 c flour
Swirl butter around pan edges
Pour in batter gently
Place in oven
Set timer for 20 minutes
Remove when golden, sprinkle with lemon juice and powdered sugar
*****
A friend, who is also doing the event, and I are going out to swim it this afternoon, in full gear: rashguard, tri-shorts, cap, goggles, wetsuits, maybe even earplugs to keep the icy water from swishing in and out of our ear canals. (Doesn't that just give you the shivers?) She's done it once and said it was cold, cold, cold. That was last week when it was 90 degrees. Why can't it be 90 degrees this week?
I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. I'm doing something I've always want to do. I need to find a pace I can maintain and enjoy the ride. That's my mantra. Gotta suit up and go for a run now; the natives are getting restless. Wish me luck!
PS- The baby birdies hatched! They are tiny and fuzzy and so vulnerable in this cold weather. We are trying to spend minimum time in the backyard so that mama bird can stay on the nest and keep them warm as much as possible. I couldn't resist a quick peek, though. Yesterday I saw one yawn, and his little yellow mouth was no bigger than my pinkie nail when it was wide open. When they are bigger and the weather is warmer, I'll try (carefully) to get a picture.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Race is Long, and in the End, It's Only with Yourself
My first triathlon is a little more than a week away now. I must be in a philosophical mood, because similarities between the race and life keep appearing. Every time I coach myself through an element of potential anxiety about the race, what I hear is advice about life. Such as, "Don't worry about how fast you're going, just find a strong pace that you can maintain," or "It doesn't matter what other people are doing, or if you win a prize, it matters that you finish, and that you have a good time doing it." See? Also, "If you say 'wheeeeeeeeee' when you're going really fast down a hill after a long climb, you might swallow a bug." I don't know how this one applies to life, exactly, but I can tell you from personal experience that it's true. I rode my bike home from work in Napa the other day and had several close bug encounters.
The triathlon, like life, is made up of mini-races, mini-obstacles, and each must be approached afresh, with determination and optimism. It may be a fifteen-minute swim, an hour bike and a half-hour run. Or it may be three five-minute swims, two thirty-minute rides and three one-mile runs in my mind. I can drag myself through the swim, for example, moaning internally about the icky lake water and the elbows in my face, or I can try to congratulate myself every minute for finally, after all this time, doing it. The swim itself is just part of the race, and before I know it, it will be over, and I'll be on to the next phase, then the next. I'll never be in exactly the same place again. See? It's just one big giant metaphor.
The triathlon, like life, is made up of mini-races, mini-obstacles, and each must be approached afresh, with determination and optimism. It may be a fifteen-minute swim, an hour bike and a half-hour run. Or it may be three five-minute swims, two thirty-minute rides and three one-mile runs in my mind. I can drag myself through the swim, for example, moaning internally about the icky lake water and the elbows in my face, or I can try to congratulate myself every minute for finally, after all this time, doing it. The swim itself is just part of the race, and before I know it, it will be over, and I'll be on to the next phase, then the next. I'll never be in exactly the same place again. See? It's just one big giant metaphor.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Since You Asked
Here's my arm today:
The scar looks kind of like a little telephone pole from this vantage point. I think it'll hold. Not bad for having a metal spike and a fleece sweatshirt shoved into it four weeks ago yesterday.
The scar looks kind of like a little telephone pole from this vantage point. I think it'll hold. Not bad for having a metal spike and a fleece sweatshirt shoved into it four weeks ago yesterday.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Countdown
Ok, so yeah, I wrote this ambitious post a few weeks ago about how I was (am) doing a triathlon in May. And then some things happened that sort of got in the way of that gradual but efficient training period, and it rained a lot, and I got really busy with design work (thankfully), and now it's a mere THREE WEEKS away.
I freaked out a little bit at that. And then I found a training plan that I had downloaded back in January (from here), and I looked at where I should be preparation-wise. I'm actually doing ok, I think. Today I did my first "brick" which is two segments of the triathlon together. I rode 11 miles and ran 3. And I did it. No problem.
Next week, I am going to pop in to the pool a few times and make sure my arm isn't going to come apart, and go from there. I know I can do the distances. I'm trying to look at it as three short races, just strung together. I keep telling myself that all I have to do is put them together, not fall down or break down (I am virtually clueless about flat tires or any other mechanical difficulty at this point) and not get tangled up in my own clothes during the transitions. And try to have a sense of humor about it if at all possible.
I freaked out a little bit at that. And then I found a training plan that I had downloaded back in January (from here), and I looked at where I should be preparation-wise. I'm actually doing ok, I think. Today I did my first "brick" which is two segments of the triathlon together. I rode 11 miles and ran 3. And I did it. No problem.
Next week, I am going to pop in to the pool a few times and make sure my arm isn't going to come apart, and go from there. I know I can do the distances. I'm trying to look at it as three short races, just strung together. I keep telling myself that all I have to do is put them together, not fall down or break down (I am virtually clueless about flat tires or any other mechanical difficulty at this point) and not get tangled up in my own clothes during the transitions. And try to have a sense of humor about it if at all possible.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Next Eight Weeks
Ok, I mentioned this on facebook, so some of you already know, but I signed up for my first triathlon. Yep, that's right, me, your friend Tam. Eight weeks from now, at Lake Berryessa in May, I'll be swimming, biking and running my little self across and around the lake at eight in the morning.
How do I feel about this? I'm trying to stay calm and not freak out. The numbers seem doable: 1/2 mile swim, 11 mile bike, 3 mile run. All things that I do already or can do. I'm hoping it will be fun. For now, I'm just trying to keep myself from getting injured so that I can finish the darn thing.
I know nothing at all about how to go about this. In case you are considering dipping your toes in the triathlon waters as well, or just want to come along for the swim, run, ride, I thought that I would share the things I learn along the way.
So far:
1. This from the former triathlete physical therapist I saw today to help me with my mild IT band issue:
To test a running shoe to make sure it has adequate support: a) first, push in on the sides of the back of the shoe, where it cups the heel. They should only bend in 1/2" on each side. b) Next, holding the front and back of the shoe from the bottom, twist in opposite directions, to see how much flex there is. Again, the shoe should be fairly rigid, and shouldn't collapse. c) Last, hold the shoe at the front and back again, and bend it upwards. If the shoe "breaks" or easily bends at a right angle at the arch, where your foot doesn't, it might force your foot to bend or push off awkwardly to compensate.
This is why the $50 special Asics I got on sale from Big 5 make my feet feel flat and my knees feel tired, but the same brand, different style, that I bought from a local running store for twice that, don't. Some styles offered by the same company offer more support and stability. Save your knees and hunt down the right shoes for you. New running shoes should be as comfortable as bedroom slippers. If bedroom slippers came with a nice firm corset of support around the arch and heel, that is.
2. Running shoes should be changed every 500 miles or so. Figure out how much, roughly, you run a week, and from there, figure out how long your shoes will last. If you're just starting out like me, this may seem like a huge number that you'll never reach, but you will eventually. Do this on the day you buy them and put it on your calendar so you're thinking about it BEFORE your feet and knees remind you. I suggested to my local running store that they send out a postcard (even email) every season or twice a year to their customers, reminding them of how much better they'll run and feel when they keep their shoes up to date. (It goes without saying that you should not get new shoes the week or day before your event, just in case, so plan ahead.)
3. A friend who is a triathlon pro says to take a can't-be-missed bright towel for your changing/transition area. Something like neon pink or a bold print, so that you can sort your stuff out from the crowd. He also suggests a little dish tub and a container of water for rinsing your feet after the swim, as sandy toes do not feel good once on dry land. It was also news to me that you can't be naked in the transition area. I had envisioned little Victorian-era canvas cabanas in neat little rows, or at least, a very crowded bathroom. This is going to take some planning...
4. The consensus seems to be that the bike to run transition is the suckiest. I'm trying to think of it as the home stretch.
5. Wetsuits, should you need one, can be rented for the day of the event. The company that does it rents it to you for 40 days, so you have time before your event to practice in it. If you like it, and you keep it beyond the 40 days, you keep it, and they keep your deposit. If you're done with it, send it back and pay just the rental fee. Cool. I perused the pictures from last year's race, and it looked like 90% of the people wore wetsuits in the 70-degree water.
6. Some people use toe-cages on the bike so that they can bike in their running shoes to save time.
That's it for now. If there is anyone who has advice or tips for me, send 'em on in. If there are any beginner triathletes out there who happen to go to Health Spa Napa Valley and want a buddy for run, bike or swim, let me know, too.
How do I feel about this? I'm trying to stay calm and not freak out. The numbers seem doable: 1/2 mile swim, 11 mile bike, 3 mile run. All things that I do already or can do. I'm hoping it will be fun. For now, I'm just trying to keep myself from getting injured so that I can finish the darn thing.
I know nothing at all about how to go about this. In case you are considering dipping your toes in the triathlon waters as well, or just want to come along for the swim, run, ride, I thought that I would share the things I learn along the way.
So far:
1. This from the former triathlete physical therapist I saw today to help me with my mild IT band issue:
To test a running shoe to make sure it has adequate support: a) first, push in on the sides of the back of the shoe, where it cups the heel. They should only bend in 1/2" on each side. b) Next, holding the front and back of the shoe from the bottom, twist in opposite directions, to see how much flex there is. Again, the shoe should be fairly rigid, and shouldn't collapse. c) Last, hold the shoe at the front and back again, and bend it upwards. If the shoe "breaks" or easily bends at a right angle at the arch, where your foot doesn't, it might force your foot to bend or push off awkwardly to compensate.
This is why the $50 special Asics I got on sale from Big 5 make my feet feel flat and my knees feel tired, but the same brand, different style, that I bought from a local running store for twice that, don't. Some styles offered by the same company offer more support and stability. Save your knees and hunt down the right shoes for you. New running shoes should be as comfortable as bedroom slippers. If bedroom slippers came with a nice firm corset of support around the arch and heel, that is.
2. Running shoes should be changed every 500 miles or so. Figure out how much, roughly, you run a week, and from there, figure out how long your shoes will last. If you're just starting out like me, this may seem like a huge number that you'll never reach, but you will eventually. Do this on the day you buy them and put it on your calendar so you're thinking about it BEFORE your feet and knees remind you. I suggested to my local running store that they send out a postcard (even email) every season or twice a year to their customers, reminding them of how much better they'll run and feel when they keep their shoes up to date. (It goes without saying that you should not get new shoes the week or day before your event, just in case, so plan ahead.)
3. A friend who is a triathlon pro says to take a can't-be-missed bright towel for your changing/transition area. Something like neon pink or a bold print, so that you can sort your stuff out from the crowd. He also suggests a little dish tub and a container of water for rinsing your feet after the swim, as sandy toes do not feel good once on dry land. It was also news to me that you can't be naked in the transition area. I had envisioned little Victorian-era canvas cabanas in neat little rows, or at least, a very crowded bathroom. This is going to take some planning...
4. The consensus seems to be that the bike to run transition is the suckiest. I'm trying to think of it as the home stretch.
5. Wetsuits, should you need one, can be rented for the day of the event. The company that does it rents it to you for 40 days, so you have time before your event to practice in it. If you like it, and you keep it beyond the 40 days, you keep it, and they keep your deposit. If you're done with it, send it back and pay just the rental fee. Cool. I perused the pictures from last year's race, and it looked like 90% of the people wore wetsuits in the 70-degree water.
6. Some people use toe-cages on the bike so that they can bike in their running shoes to save time.
That's it for now. If there is anyone who has advice or tips for me, send 'em on in. If there are any beginner triathletes out there who happen to go to Health Spa Napa Valley and want a buddy for run, bike or swim, let me know, too.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Progress Report
Remember my little garden? And my planting project? Well, here they are today. The garden got a little mixed up and a little, well...eaten. The sunflowers, which were to form the back wall of the little narrow garden bed, with sweetpeas growing up them, sort of washed forward and around.
The gopher ate most of the nine original basil plants, one by one. One morning I walked out to find just the top leaves of a tender plant sticking out of his evil little burrow, the next, there was a new plant missing and a pile of stems thrown out like wingbones outside a KFC. He/she/devil-hamster also ate the cute little chives with purple flowers, the sweet peas, all the beans that weren't planted in barrels, the blue-star creeper, and almost got the strawberry.
The oregano and thyme seem to be safe, however they are so shaded out by the sunflowers that they are tall and weedy. So much for the pretty little arrangment of herbs and ground covers that were supposed to fill in and be lush and beautiful in a year. The beans in the barrels, however, are thriving.
My knee, in case you were wondering, is doing pretty well. I can run again, and I've actually been doing it. I've even been back on my carveboard twice, though I still feel like an awkward 40 year old on it. Which is about right.
The compost bin, aka the rot-box, is not doing so well. Or maybe it is. I can't tell. It's not that things are not rotting. They certainly are. Mike is sure that I need more nitrogen (he is the compost expert, I have to give him that), but he requires that I dump the existing compost out before he'll agree to get me a bag of lawn clippings from the gardeners. If you saw this black, smelly, lumpy mess, teeming with, shall we say, fauna (crawly fauna, to be more precise) you would not want to dump it either, unless you were wearing a haz-mat suit and protective eyewear. And where? In an open pile outside the fence, to further induce the neighborhood skunk to prowl around the ivy?
I think I need more brown. Compost, theoretically, is composed of greens and browns, and all of my kitchen waste, with the exception of coffee grounds, is considered green. (According to my master gardeners pamphlet, but not according to compost master Mike.) So according to the pamphlet, I need more dry material, like dead leaves or straw. Given the potato-pancake-batter quality of the current mix, I am leaning in this direction, but I'm willing to try both methods. Where DID I put my haz-mat suit....
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Entitlement and Etiquette
Today I went to the post office to mail some packages. We have a very small local post office with one very nice counter employee. As I approached the counter, she was not there, but another employee walked by and said she'd be right back, so I placed my packages on the counter. A woman walked in behind me and asked the man walking past the counter if they had any more Star Wars stamps. He said yes and kept walking. As the clerk reappeared at the counter, she said to me perkily, "you have a lot of packages today!" The woman behind me asked anxiously over my shoulder if there would be anyone else coming out to help because "I just need some stamps." Yes, apparently something is on fire and only stamps will put it out. Or you've left the bichon in the Lexus with the windows rolled up again. Or a little boy is dying and he can only be revived by Star Wars stamps. BECAUSE THOSE ARE THE ONLY REASONS I CAN THINK OF WHY YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TO WAIT YOUR TURN LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. THE MORE YOU TALK TO THE CLERK, THE MORE TIME IT IS GOING TO TAKE ME TO GET MY PACKAGES MAILED, THUS, THE LONGER IT IS GOING TO TAKE FOR YOUR TURN. The clerk, who is very sweet, looked at me and asked if I minded letting her go first, since she just needed some stamps.
At this point, let me say that I am one of those people who holds the door for everyone, male or female, always offers to let the person with the one box of tampons or carton of milk go before me in the store and I even let other cars turn left in front of me if I am in slow-moving traffic. I blink my lights at trucks that need to change lanes. This is the post office, in a town with a very large retired community, with a clerk who is fairly casual when it comes to speed. Nothing is going to happen fast, and we've all had to learn to live with it and wait our turns.
I put up my hands and let this woman play through, but I really wanted to tell her that I didn't mind so much that she went in front of me, in fact, I might have offered it, if she hadn't shouted over my shoulder and forced the issue with the clerk.
On a related subject, yesterday I got to the gym with just enough time to get in a quick swim before date night. (We had a great dinner at Uva, by the way.) Usually I'm prepared for running or swimming, but this time I only had my swim gear with me. All three lanes of the pool were occupied, so I took my time stretching and gearing up at the side, scoping out the lane possibilities.
Two lanes were occupied by wide-wingspan men with splashing strokes, and the third was occupied by a small woman, swimming slowly but steadily. I approached her lane and stood near the end until she reached the end of the lane. At which point, she turned around like a little turtle with her head under water and swam away to the other end, where she repeated the head-down turn, head-down swim. This happened once more, with me standing at the end of the lane, waving at her. I didn't want to jump in on her, because she was not looking up at all as she swam. My workout time was ticking away. I sat at the end of the lane, off to the side, with just my legs sticking in, hoping she'd see me and start swimming on one side. I waved my hand in front of her face as she approached the turn. Again she turned around and swam away. Finally, the next lap, I waved my hand in front of her face again and said, "Hi!"
She stopped and looked at me and I said, "Hi. Do you mind if we split the lane?" To which she replied, "Go ask those guys" waving limply toward the splashers, "I only have six to go." (Six what? Laps? 100's? Years?) I said, "I'm sorry, I only have 20 minutes to work out today. Those guys are big, with big wingspans. Do you mind if I just swim on one side of this lane? I promise I won't run into you." She said, "Alright." I said, "Which side do you want?" She said, "Let's swim circles." at which point, she, the MUCH MUCH SLOWER person, took off.
At first glance, you might think I was pushing the entitlement issue, like the woman in the post office, but in swimming, there are very clear pre-set rules for lane-sharing.
If anyone is ever in the situation where they have to share a lane at a pool, let me explain swimmer's etiquette to you:
1. If all lanes are occupied, the next person out on the deck who appears to have intent to swim (goggles and a cap are a good clue) will split with someone. The polite thing to do if all three lanes are occupied is to look up periodically for swimmers on deck and offer to split. The polite thing to do if you are the second in the lane is to make sure the first swimmer sees you, and allow them to choose their preferred side of the lane. If they do want to swim in circles, try to time your laps for minimum contact at the ends, spacing yourselves at least 5 seconds apart if not more.
2. When two swimmers are sharing a lane, each swimmer takes one side of the center line, being careful as they approach so as not to whack each other. Butterfly is kept to a minimum. Try to kick with very little splash if the person next to you is breathing towards you. Two swimmers can also swim in a circular pattern, going up on the right and returning on the left, however, they should be well matched in speed. Both swimmers need to be alert and allow for faster swimmers to pass at the ends of the lane. When resting, swimmers need to stay off to the side of the lane so that people still swimming can execute turns.
3. When three or more people need to share a lane, it's necessary to swim circles. The fastest swimmer should go first, followed at at least five-second intervals by the next fastest, etc. If the swimmer behind you touches your toes during the lap, you should offer to let them go first at the next turn. All of the rules of number 2 above apply.
4. Whenever two or more people are swimming in one lane, courtesy is the rule. Be aware of where the other swimmer is at all times to avoid accidents. You may have to modify your swim intervals to allow the other person to swim through.
Just FYI. Because my gym pool is used by spa patrons, and also serves as the hotel pool for the inn next door, there are times when people seem to be bobbing about in it, oblivious to the fact that the lane lines and time-clock are there for a reason. I've been wanting to get the word out for a long time. Too bad there aren't any rules of etiquette for the post office. Besides the obscure and little-known convention of first-come, first-served, of course.
At this point, let me say that I am one of those people who holds the door for everyone, male or female, always offers to let the person with the one box of tampons or carton of milk go before me in the store and I even let other cars turn left in front of me if I am in slow-moving traffic. I blink my lights at trucks that need to change lanes. This is the post office, in a town with a very large retired community, with a clerk who is fairly casual when it comes to speed. Nothing is going to happen fast, and we've all had to learn to live with it and wait our turns.
I put up my hands and let this woman play through, but I really wanted to tell her that I didn't mind so much that she went in front of me, in fact, I might have offered it, if she hadn't shouted over my shoulder and forced the issue with the clerk.
On a related subject, yesterday I got to the gym with just enough time to get in a quick swim before date night. (We had a great dinner at Uva, by the way.) Usually I'm prepared for running or swimming, but this time I only had my swim gear with me. All three lanes of the pool were occupied, so I took my time stretching and gearing up at the side, scoping out the lane possibilities.
Two lanes were occupied by wide-wingspan men with splashing strokes, and the third was occupied by a small woman, swimming slowly but steadily. I approached her lane and stood near the end until she reached the end of the lane. At which point, she turned around like a little turtle with her head under water and swam away to the other end, where she repeated the head-down turn, head-down swim. This happened once more, with me standing at the end of the lane, waving at her. I didn't want to jump in on her, because she was not looking up at all as she swam. My workout time was ticking away. I sat at the end of the lane, off to the side, with just my legs sticking in, hoping she'd see me and start swimming on one side. I waved my hand in front of her face as she approached the turn. Again she turned around and swam away. Finally, the next lap, I waved my hand in front of her face again and said, "Hi!"
She stopped and looked at me and I said, "Hi. Do you mind if we split the lane?" To which she replied, "Go ask those guys" waving limply toward the splashers, "I only have six to go." (Six what? Laps? 100's? Years?) I said, "I'm sorry, I only have 20 minutes to work out today. Those guys are big, with big wingspans. Do you mind if I just swim on one side of this lane? I promise I won't run into you." She said, "Alright." I said, "Which side do you want?" She said, "Let's swim circles." at which point, she, the MUCH MUCH SLOWER person, took off.
At first glance, you might think I was pushing the entitlement issue, like the woman in the post office, but in swimming, there are very clear pre-set rules for lane-sharing.
If anyone is ever in the situation where they have to share a lane at a pool, let me explain swimmer's etiquette to you:
1. If all lanes are occupied, the next person out on the deck who appears to have intent to swim (goggles and a cap are a good clue) will split with someone. The polite thing to do if all three lanes are occupied is to look up periodically for swimmers on deck and offer to split. The polite thing to do if you are the second in the lane is to make sure the first swimmer sees you, and allow them to choose their preferred side of the lane. If they do want to swim in circles, try to time your laps for minimum contact at the ends, spacing yourselves at least 5 seconds apart if not more.
2. When two swimmers are sharing a lane, each swimmer takes one side of the center line, being careful as they approach so as not to whack each other. Butterfly is kept to a minimum. Try to kick with very little splash if the person next to you is breathing towards you. Two swimmers can also swim in a circular pattern, going up on the right and returning on the left, however, they should be well matched in speed. Both swimmers need to be alert and allow for faster swimmers to pass at the ends of the lane. When resting, swimmers need to stay off to the side of the lane so that people still swimming can execute turns.
3. When three or more people need to share a lane, it's necessary to swim circles. The fastest swimmer should go first, followed at at least five-second intervals by the next fastest, etc. If the swimmer behind you touches your toes during the lap, you should offer to let them go first at the next turn. All of the rules of number 2 above apply.
4. Whenever two or more people are swimming in one lane, courtesy is the rule. Be aware of where the other swimmer is at all times to avoid accidents. You may have to modify your swim intervals to allow the other person to swim through.
Just FYI. Because my gym pool is used by spa patrons, and also serves as the hotel pool for the inn next door, there are times when people seem to be bobbing about in it, oblivious to the fact that the lane lines and time-clock are there for a reason. I've been wanting to get the word out for a long time. Too bad there aren't any rules of etiquette for the post office. Besides the obscure and little-known convention of first-come, first-served, of course.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Where You Look Is Where You Go
image copyright denz zaniAs I mentioned, we went surfing in Hawaii. Our instructor, Nate, was awesome. He had been teaching surfing long enough to be patient, cool and encouraging, but not long enough to be burned out. As we grinned and sloshed awkwardly out on wave after wave, one of the things he repeatedly coached, besides "Paddle, paddle, paddle!" and "Push up, then get up!" was
"Where you look is where you go."
It really stuck in my brain. My mother, the spiritualist minister (and junior high school teacher) has been sending inspirational emails about being positive and affecting positive change in our lives. I suspect she sends these to me in part because she sends them to my sister, and she doesn't want it to look like she's just sending them to my sister. At this point in our lives, my sister needs a little more encouragement about positivity than I do. I'm hip to this whole thing, but for me, this little phrase really nailed it in a precise way.
What it means in surfing is that if you look at your feet, you will fall down. If you look at the beach, you will go forward. What it means in life is that if you focus on the negative, you will go there. If you focus on the positive, you will go there. As Peggy Hall puts it in the Yoga for Surfers video : "Picture yourself doing it, and you will." (I highly recommend Yoga for Surfers II, a sweat-inducing 30 minutes that stretches and uses every muscle in a short time period. I dare you not to be pleasantly sore.) Ok, so the position she's referring to is one I'm not sure physics allows considering the current dimensions of my body, but I get the idea. It's that simple.
Life is that simple. The head leads the horse, physically and mentally. You don't have to be a Pollyanna. Just picture the best, coolest life that you can imagine, keep that picture in your mind, and believe that you deserve it. Then go there.
Life is that simple. The head leads the horse, physically and mentally. You don't have to be a Pollyanna. Just picture the best, coolest life that you can imagine, keep that picture in your mind, and believe that you deserve it. Then go there.
PS- While wiki-ing Pollyanna, I discovered the Pollyanna Principle, which is the tendency of people to believe positive things said about themselves. I think it would make a great band name.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
The Downward Trend Continues
On the positive side, I washed the car, the dog, the kitchen blinds, the windows, the laundry and the dog beds. Cleaned the office, took out the recycling and the garbage twice each. And washed all the dishes from making the giant gummy orbital twinkie that I could have called an angel food cake, had the stars aligned properly. I might have been underzealous in incorporating the flour-sugar mixture, rather than underbaking the cake. It was one of those two things that got me last time, but I'm not sure which. I will master this cake, I will master this cake, I will master this cake.
In other news of today, Mike picked a medium-sized rattlesnake with a very big rattle out of the bushes, saving a tour group at the winery from certain death.
On one of my brief breaks from frantic housecleaning, I shopped for skateboard shoes online. Please vote for your favorite: The white and green ones or the olive and yellow ones. I need these because I was wearing running shoes when I bit it on the carveboard, and I would like to avoid that in the future. Skater shoes are made for gripping just enough, and allowing maneuverability as well. I think the white ones would be better with shorts, but the olive ones would look better with pants. I'm torn. I would like to take my board out just once before we go to Hawaii.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
For the Record
For those who are keeping track, here is my knee today. A little blurry, but worlds better than it was a month ago
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Tour of California
The "Tour of California" came through Napa Valley today. It was exciting to see the bikes come down the hill on Oakville Crossroad, but they went by so fast! I couldn't believe 150 people fit in a single brightly-clad blur. I did see the 3 stage leaders, and also the Discovery team, which was leading the pack, but Levi Leipheimer, who was wearing the yellow jersey, was tucked behind his teammates in my only photo of them. It's been funny to watch the coverage on TV as they pass familiar scenery. This summer, one of these guys is going to win the Tour de France.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Looking Good
Almost ready to begin some sort of more extensive exercise.We went to the new DeYoung Museum on Saturday (see picture below) and I walked a lot and awkwardly climbed and descended a lot of stairs.
Before the DeYoung, we hit our favorite dim sum spot, Wing Lee Barbecue and Bakery, on Clement St., and took our generously-proportioned pork buns, potstickers and chicken skewers down to Ocean Beach to eat while we watched the surfers. Surfing there does not look fun. On a day like Sunday, which was bright but chilly, it just looked cold.
The museum was cool. The new design allows for surprise vistas and looks back at itself from crooked little angles. People outside can see inside some areas, turning the galleries into arsty people-quariums, and in other areas, gallery guests can look out at the display of people among the garden's sculpture, such as the two waiters I watched behind the messy cafe bus-station, shoving a plate of french fries into their mouths in "hiding". (Note to outdoor cafe designer: if the busboys had somewhere to put the trays, they wouldn't throw them on the grass behind the bus station. Nothing like a view of trash and trays strewn across the lawn to compliment a nice piece of sculpture in a beautiful setting.)
I notice these things.
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