Poops, whomps, and whoops!

Just a hunch...but I think I found the guilty one.

The fact that she's turning away from the camera? Classic denial. Hopefully, we won't have any more poop-in-shoe incidents. But with Tabbitha, you never know.

In other news, instead of biking-running-biking long on Saturday, I spent the morning with Nathaniel, at his new squadron's family day. And honestly...? There was no other place I'd rather be - it was great spending the morning with him and being up-close-and-personal with the Gunfighter's helicopters.

I'm so used to seeing them flying overhead or along the coast, hearing the 'whomp whomp whomp' from afar - this was exciting! Though my palms were slightly sweaty when I noticed the four guys hanging from the bottom of the helo...

After the show, Nathaniel and I waited for one of the lovely buses to take us off (one of) Camp Pendleton's firing ranges. I'm smiling because 1) I love the desert 2) I'm practicing my heat acclimatization (pushing 100) 3) The port-o-potty is faaar away and 4) I'm trying to angle myself to get as much breeze as possible. There was a hint of a zephyr every now and then.

Later, Nathaniel gave me a quick tour of his squadron and - more importantly - the briefing room.
Just in case you were wondering: toys are included with some pre flight briefs.

Sunday was a day filled with biking, running, and (drum roll please...) more biking. I had the lovely opportunity of running at the top of Mt. Palomar. After biking up said mountain. Yes, I carried my running shoes up with me, yes I got crazy looks from the bikers and motorcyclists at the top, and abso-friggen-lutely yes, my legs felt heavy with those first few steps.

Okay, I jest. They felt heavy with nearly every step.

But with every pedal stroke taken, with every stride run, I reminded myself that 'this is EXACTLY where I'm supposed to be right now...exactly in this moment.'

The highlight?

Well - cresting the top of Palomar, a ride that gives me sweaty palms just thinking about it, is always wonderful. Reaching the top is an emotional experience for me - its tough, raw, challenging, filled with ups and downs, uncertainty, beautiful views, mind tricks, happiness, doubt, joy, and everything in between.

But it was ten times more enjoyable today when - with 2/10 of a mile left to go - I was passed by another rider, training for the Everest Bike Challenge (a two-day bicycle race from Nevada to California that includes 29,000+ feet of climbing). I did my damnedest to keep on her wheel, and we exchanged encouraging words during her pass. It was a thing of beauty, I tell you. Not because she dropped my rear like a bad habit - but because of the joy and passion she exhibited at the top.

Fortunately I was within range to see her fist pumps and hear the "WHOOP WHOOP!" she screamed as she crested past the STOP sign. I couldn't hide my smile and had to give her a hug when we finally came to a stop at the Palomar Mountain General Store just down the road.

Seeing (and hearing) her joy made my climb that much more real: its not every day that one has the opportunity to successfully reach the top of a mountain. Life isn't a given - and even though we set out to accomplish certain goals, there are just as many times where we don't (or can't) reach them.

That's why its SO IMPORTANT to celebrate the things we do on a daily basis. Embrace the journey and realize sometimes finishing what we started, is as important as doing it well. Climbing Palomar is hard for me - not so much in the physical sense (because I know its going to hurt), but because I know exactly how hard I have to work to set a new personal best or best watt average.

Not every time that I climb will I set a personal best - yes I'll try my hardest, but I also realize there are so many variables that can come into effect. And I'm okay with that - because I know that what I learn in the process is much more valuable than some record ever could be. And being able to PUSH HARD when you know that you're a few minutes off your best time, BUT STILL CONTINUING AT YOUR HARDEST IN SPITE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE...well (that takes guts for starters).

But give me life's lessons any day. In the end I'll be happy and that's what really counts.

As for tomorrow? Well for starters, I know I'll be sore. But proud of my effort.

Speaking of proud.... A BIG CONGRATULATIONS to all who raced this past weekend! Ironmans Kentucky and Canada, in addition to the Chicago Triathlon. Plenty of races, plenty of incredible performances (and plenty of incredible sherpas!) I am proud of you all -

WHOOP WHOOP to you too! Bask in the glory, raise your hands over your head, and scream for joy! You - my friends - have earned it! WHOOP WHOOP!

Feeling hot, Hot, HOT!

My first mistake was to drive with the air conditioning on. Nothing says "heat acclimatization" like stepping from your 65-ish degree car interior, to an outside temperature that's easily pushing 100. But I had already spent 30+ minutes driving inland, away from the sanctity and cool breeze of the Pacific, and at that point, I just wanted to get my 14-mile run finished.

The fact that my skin felt as though it was on fire less than one hundred seconds after stepping out of the car - well, it only added to the "experience." And yes, I did wear sunscreen. SPF 70, or something of the sort.

The run was long, hot, long, hot, hot, long, and did I mention - hot?

I mapped out a 4.4 mile loop somewhere in the furnaces, err, along the fire roads and trials of Camp Pendleton. Part of the loop would take me around Lake O'Neil - which at the time of my planning sounded awesome. Right up until I started running with the heat index in the 3-digit range.

I have to hand it to my will power: it's A LOT stronger than I give it credit for. I remained on dry land the entire run, even though my head was telling my feet to head over there towards the water! No, IN the water. No - you're GOING THE WRONG WAY! TO THE WATER! Now if only I could apply the same will power against Ritter Sport Chocolate. THEN we could talk.

First loop found me getting lost, in spite of my quick Google Earth map study. Yes, my sense of direction sucks, but once I figured out my way - well, I was less "lost-er" (as long as I stuck to the same trail and didn't venture off and "explore" other fire trails. I'll have to save that for next time. And when I don't hear gunfire.)

Second loop was a little faster, as I felt more sure of myself. As for the last loop? Well - it can be summed up in 3 words:

It.

Was.

HOT.

Yes, I carried a water bottle and YES, I grabbed a new water bottle with each successive lap. And I even paused half way on laps number 2 and 3 to re-fill near the group campground and picnic area. The Marines and civilians assembled at some sort of event barely glanced my way the first lap; by the third one had asked if I was okay.

I think I mumbled something somewhat coherent, because I found myself running. Again.

The good news was that each loop took me past the Naval Hospital twice - and I almost considered checking myself in after the run. I guarantee they would have given me an IV. And probably a lecture about the dangers of exercising in extreme heat and black flag conditions.

But I got it done, and wasn't too much worse for the wear. Yes, my pace was slower than I would have wanted, my heart rate well above its prescribed zones. But just under two hours spent running in what felt like the fires of, well, you-know-where, and I managed to finish intact, alive, and without need for the IV.

My second mistake was walking out of the gym wearing BRIGHT PINK COMPRESSION SOCKS. One of the gym attendants - who sees me doing functional strength from time to time - looked quizzically at my legs and asked if I played soccer.

I replied, "No, I do triathlon." At this point, I think it would be pertinant to add that the shirt I was wearing read: TRIATHLON.

In BOLD letters.

"Oh.." he answered, nodding his head. "Oh, I though you did a real sport...?"

I didn't really know what to say. For the first time in a while, I was speechless. Maybe it was the heat. Or the run. Hell, it was probably both. But I just shook my head and walked out.

My third mistake was wearing BRIGHT PINK COMPRESSION SOCKS into the military commissary. And even though my shirt read "TRIATHLON", I still replied 'Yes' when someone asked if I played soccer. It just wasn't worth the effort, and I was afraid of the Lime Tortilla Chips that were staring me down across the isle from the almonds I was choosing.

Hhhhmmmmm....almonds or Lime Tortilla Chips....hhhhmmmmm.....what would you do? Lime Chips? Good Choice! I agree. But they weren't on the list, and in my post-run delirium, I swear they were calling my name. Maaarit....Maaaaaaarit....

Maybe I should have gone for the IV.

My fourth mistake was shopping at the commissary after a long run. Yes, recovery bars and chocolate milk are nice and all...but man. Everything looks good after a workout. Luckily my will power wasn't all used up by not running into Lake O'Neil; I stuck to my list. And only one Ritter Sport Chocolate Bar made it into the cart.

Okay, two. Humph.

And I guess that my fifth and last mistake was putting Tabbitha on a diet. I thought everything was going great, really well. Until...lo and behold, some kitty had pooped in my shoe.

Not to get all graphic and stuff, but I'm pretty sure about who was the culprit. Trust me. Anabelle couldn't produce something of that size if she tried.

So in addition to diet food, we may have to work on some behavior therapy. But that will have to wait for another day.

For now, that's all I've got. I guess I didn't really need to list "mistakes" - because overall (aside from the poop-in-shoe incident, because who wants to find that?), it really was a good day. For some reason I started writing the post in my head in the middle of my run - so there you go. And yes, it was hot, Hot, HOT out there!

Some Days...

I have to admit, with this Ironman-thingy, there are some days when I feel like this...

While, during others - everything just 'clicks' and I can't keep the grin off my face...

Today I was lucky enough to have not one, but two stellar workouts. And for someone right smack dab in the middle of two Ironmans - well, that's enough to make me jump for joy.

This road hasn't been easy, and I never for a minute thought that it would be. There have been times in the recent few weeks where I barely thought I could get through (let alone finish) long and hard sessions. But through it all, I've tried to remember the good things; why I'm out here in the first place, doing a sport that I love. As long as I've kept it upbeat and positive - in spite of feeling like shit while climbing some big-assed stupid hill in the middle of no where - I've been happy.

Because at this time last year - I never, not for a minute, imagined that I would be here. And that's reason enough to celebrate.

Want something else to celebrate? How about a Cappuccino Rittersport in the middle of an Alaskan Hike? Huh? This chocolate treat was brought to you by Nathaniel. And no, you can't have him, because he's mine!

(Even if he's unwilling to hold girly-shopping bags in the middle of Victoria while I take yet another picture.)

"C" is for...

"C" is for Charisa! The best training partner and bike mate a girl could have. I had a few tough moments during our Henshaw Loop (112 miles/7-hour) bike ride today. But she was always there - encouraging, smiling, and (most importantly at times) pulling me along in the wake of her draft. She made it clear that I could bail at any point if I was feeling like crap, and she wouldn't think anything of it; but with a partner like her, I just didn't want to stop. THANKS Charisa!

"C" is for colorful. Yep, I had a few colorful words during my ride. Not necessarily blog-appropriate.

"C" is for crap. Not the literal kind - but in the very beginning of the ride, its how I felt. But some very encouraging words from Charisa, and my own acceptance with the fact that my legs felt flat from my race last weekend - and after 1:45 or so, I finally came around.

"C" is for Coke. 3:30 into our ride at the Julian Pie Shop stop, I decided that the gels just weren't working. So I switched to coke. And for some magical reason only known to the triathlon gods - it worked. I think I had at LEAST a liter of the stuff, maybe more. But it was delicious and my fuel of choice (along with carbo pro 1200). The first thing I did, though, when I got home - was to brush my teeth. Ugh!

"C" is for chopsticks. As in I will NOT be eating my post-workout leftovers with them. It'll just take too long, and I'm hungry.

"C" is for carbs. As in the beer kind. 7 hours of drinking only water or coke, and the diet coke and seltzer water awaiting my arrival just didn't seem so appealing. So Sam Adams "Boston Lager" it was. And it was/is delicious.

"C" is for cupcake! I found a cupcake store!! "Elizabethan Desserts" in Encinitas was a recent discovery (since Friday!), and Nathaniel and I just had to stop by to pick up one. Or three. And it was more ME wanting one, while Nathaniel was willing to go along for "morale support". Its waiting for me...in the fridge...and I thought about it during my long ride... (And when I eat it, I will think of Molly, Kate, Julia, and Deirdre!)

"C" is for courage. Because sometimes it takes a little bit of courage to push through and not quit, when everything seems impossible, hilly, long, hot, and uncomfortable. And if YOU reading this have ever felt this way, know that you're not the only one. I think we all feel this way one time or another (and another...)

"C" is for CRAVING. And I've got more. Perhaps a cupcake...? We shall see. Now, please excuse me while I head to the kitchen...

Aaahhh, the joys of Recovery!

Cats aside (read: Anabelle busting through the screen and Tabbitha's diet and flea saga), there's nothing like a good recovery week. Yes, I've got some structure to my program, but there's nothing wrong with, oh say, swapping out a bike ride for a run. Because bottom line, this week has been all about the recovery.

Now is the time to really rest up, let the work absorb, and enjoy the physical and mental bonuses (because there are plenty!) of taking an albeit small break. Because just around the corner remains a big push and even bigger race. But let's not talk about that...

The nice part - and don't get me wrong, I love to run fast when I can (and remember like I've claimed before...fast is relative. My fast is different from yours and blah blah blah...) - about getting hopelessly turned around, lost, discombobulated, (and did I mention...lost?) during the run segment of Sunday's race, is that I didn't run as fast as I normally would have. Call it unfamiliarity, fear of getting lost-er, call it what you may... Ultimately, my legs felt relatively fresh, even the day after.

As crude as it sounds, I use the ability to lower myself onto the commode to gauge my post-race recovery. After Coeur d'Alene, I could hardly walk forward, let alone sit on a toilet. My upper body was absolutely necessary for helping to, er, attain the proper peeing position.

Happily, Monday morning found no quivering in my quads; lowering myself down and then the subsequent up passed without a problem. It's the little things in life, I tell you.

I suppose the most 'interesting' things have happened while swimming. Firstly, Wednesday afternoon, I set off with Chad Holderbaum, (in town for business) for a quick swim at The Cove. The Ocean was beautiful, albeit a tad choppy. But the water felt warm once we got going and the clarity visibly improved a few hundred meters from shore.

It was actually pretty laughable. We ALL know about my fear of Unmentionables (with really big teeth), and my hesitancy to swim in the Big Wide Open Pacific Ocean. Yes, I'm taking great steps to quell my fears - but rest assured, they are still there (every time I set toe in the water). Apparently, Chad harbors some of the same fears that I do, and I found myself reassuring HIM of how safe Cove-swimming is.

"How far away was that shark attack last year?" he asked timidly as we walked down towards the steps leading into the water.

It was hard work to keep my fears in check as I explained what had happened, and how far we were from the site. Truthfully, I think about sharks every time I swim in the ocean. Statistically though, I know I'm in greater danger on the drive to the beach than when I'm in the water.

What was most interesting to me, though - was that I was the one assuring him that it would be okay. Usually when I swim with others, its the other way around.

Still, I was grateful that he didn't tell me about the shadow that he saw in the water until after we were safely ashore. I don't care what you think you see, a shadow is a shadow - and oftentimes our imaginations do the worst damage well after the initial incident/sighting. After all, The Cove is well known for its seal and sea lion population, and there were plenty out basking in Wednesday's waves and sun.

One of the more interesting swimming-related phenomenon that I've experienced of late, has been the cross over between Masters Swimming and Open Water swimming. I've spent more time open water swimming in the past few weeks than ever (which is pretty laughable, because I still spend quite a bit of time in the pool). My stroke, and more importantly my sighting, in the open water feels better - longer and more efficient.

Which doesn't really translate well when you show up to the pool and see 40 X 50 meters on the board. Let's just say that my 'fast' speed and 'regular' speed over a 50 differs by - oh, gee - about three seconds. At the very most.

So, while I'm not the most ideal person to swim behind on the fast stuff, at least I can hold my own during a 400. Or more (which is pretty rare at Carlsbad Masters. I'm already excited about short course speed next year!).

But I really don't mind the short stuff: it mixes things up and keeps me honest about my speed. And really - on a recovery week, in between 2 Ironmans - I don't expect my 50 meter swimming speed to be "all that much there".

My week of recovery officially ends Sunday morning when I head out for a long ride. Tomorrow though, I've got an easy "embarrassingly slow" run on tap, and then the rest of the day to enjoy time with Nathaniel. I'm excited, but a little bit at odds with what to do. Through some miracle he doesn't have duty and I don't have a long ride...or race...or anything above 45 minutes on my training schedule.

And you had better believe that I'll enjoy every minute of it.

Starting Sunday - let's bring on Hawaii training. I'm ready and excited!

GOOD LUCK to everyone racing this weekend! It's a biggie - ENJOY!