Trail Running

    I think I may have found a new potential addiction: Trail Running. In the past, I have enjoyed darting down wooded trails with my dogs, in my mind I am the hunter/warrior coursing my dogs through underbrush, along game trails, seeking prey. I love feeling fleet of foot as I dodge rocks, fallen branches, feel the constant change of terrain beneath me and the energy of the earth vibrating through my bones and innervating my entire being. But in the past, these moments were limited by knee instability and, quite frankly, aerobic capacity. Now, as my body becomes accustomed to running and racing, I crave variety and excitement, challenges, new endeavors. I have found this in my first Trail Run. The Multnomah Falls Trail Run, to be precise. 5.4 mile with nary a level spot in the entire course, dodgy footing beneath a canopy of trees and often times the only noticeable sound was that of rushing water.
    Race start was 09:00h, a reasonable start time. I was running a tad behind schedule, having stayed up a bit late the night before, so my morning was a bit sluggish. Ample coffee worked wonders and I was feeling great soon enough. My typical pre-race breakfast of banana, ProMax bar and black coffee was sitting very comfortably in my oft treacherous digestive system. I made good time on the drive up I84-E and pulled into the race area with a solid five minutes to spare. Let me say here, one thing I love about running races, I can show up at the last minute, slip on my shoes and go. No muss no fuss, no having to show up 2+ hours before my start with a ton of gear like I have to for a Tri.  Oddly, there was a dearth of runners, none actually. Was I in the right place? Well, there was a giant, digital clock counting time, an easy-up sunshade with a semi-officious looking woman sitting beneath, and a slightly harried looking young man who showed all the evidence of being a race coordinator. Turns out I was not five minutes early, I was 25 minutes late. Oh shit. But no worries, I wasn't in it to win it, I was here to try something new, in a beautiful location that I had not visited in perhaps 30 years. I was quickly and easily pinned with my number, shown a map and sent on my way.
    Loping along the trail in my moccasin-like ZemTek minimalist running shoes I was easily transported into my hunter/warrior mindset and was suddenly missing having my dogs flushing the underbrush for their own amusement. I was a little disconcerted by the exposed, jagged bedrock that seemed to dominate this lower section of trail, but dismissed it as temporary, knowing the main trail would be paved and well traveled. My legs felt good, it was a gorgeous Fall morning, the air was sweetly scented with pine and falling leaves. I loped along, feeling like all was right in the world that inhabits my skull.
    Once I hit the main, paved trail I found myself engulfed in a group of Japanese tourists, we all politely Excused Me-ed as I let my feet weave me through their smiling group. Now onto the steeps. The trail is quite steep with ten switchbacks on the lower half. I admit, I power walked the steepest sections, and my legs were burning pretty good by the time I hit the first mile marker, but my breathing was great. I kept up the climb, though I was soon counting mile markers and trying to remember what the harried race coordinator had told me about forks in the trail, and his stern reminder that I did not want to take the Larch Mountain trail. I kept climbing, my left knee clicking a steady metronome with each stride, nearly the only sound reaching my ears, but I felt good.
    Without warning, the pavement ended and there was a beautiful downgrade on a pine needle cushioned path. I let gravity pull me down with fast strides, feeling the pleasure of letting my legs stretch out a bit. Down, across a beautiful little stone bridge that I had to stop and admire for a brief moment, then on I ran. As suddenly as the pavement had ended, and just as I was feeling to joy of running, the jagged bedrock began again. Very tough footing for a bare minimalist shoe. I ran for a bit, trying to keep up my pace, but the rocks defeated me. I was beating the absolute hell out of my feet, and needed to avoid real damage. I slowed to a quick walk, picking my footing as carefully as I was able. The trail narrowed and actually worsened. I began to have the sneaking suspicion that I was on the wrong trail. I kept eyes peeled for a trail marker, anything to tell me I was or was not on the right route. I hit tight switchbacks on this narrow trail and started to worry a bit. Not too much, since I was in this for the experience not a record time. I was only in competition with myself. Finally, convinced I was on the wrong trail, I turned back to look for the turnoff I had obviously missed. I came across a couple, asked them if the was the Waukeena Trail. No, this is Perdition Trail, he responded. What? Perdition? That was not a name that had been mentioned in any way shape or form. So I headed back over the jagged bedrock, retracing my steps. Happy to hit the pine needle padded path I broke into a run, up, up, up, my legs suddenly warmed to their task and felt fantastic. But there was no missed fork, and I was back on pavement, back at switchback 7 when I stopped, again. I was definitely going in the right direction at this point, I was just retracing my steps, no doubt about it. Frustrated, I had a brief thought of just heading down, climbing in the car and going home. But it was a brief moment. I was not going to take a DNF on this, even if it meant hacking my way through the underbrush. I stopped a guy with a fly rod, he looked like a regular in these parts. Turns out I had turned back when I was a bare quarter mile from where the actual fork in the trail was.
     Once again, turning back up the trail, I ran. My legs still felt fantastic and I was invigorated with the clean air and natural beauty. I ran. Crossed the stone bridge for the third time, dainty footed my way through jagged bedrock, ignored the voice in my head that was telling me that I was beating holy hell out of my feet, and I moved along at a decent pace. I stubbed both my feet several times on unforgiving, solidly embedded stone. But what is a little pain, other a reminder that we are truly alive? I found the fork that would send me higher along the correct trail. A small group of women with racing bibs who were walking the course stood at the intersection, they too had taken a wrong turn, adding a few miles to their hike. We chatted for a moment and then I ran on.
    From that point on there was little walking. I ran and felt glorious. True, I slowed to dance across bedrock, hoping this solid, ancient partner did not abuse my feet too badly, and then I would run. I joyously greeted everyone I passed, we were all in high spirits. I ran. Up and Up. Into the low clouds that blanketed the Gorge. The air was clean and damp, cooling my face, purifying my soul. Reaching the trail summit, I slowed for a moment, did a victory dance and let out a whoop, it was nearly all downhill from here.
    Now, down and down. Some descents so steep I worked as hard to keep myself from succumbing to gravity as I had worked fighting against it on the steep ascent. I quickened my stride, and forced myself to be mindful of where I was putting my feet, I knew I was more in peril of a potentially devastating misstep now than when I was climbing. As if to forcefully remind Brain of the perils, within a few hundred feet of trail I stubbed my toe painfully and was nearly sent sprawling, and came within a few degrees of rolling my ankle badly. But still I ran. I danced over bedrock. Scrambled over tree roots. Scampered over narrow foot bridges. I felt amazing.
    Near the end I came across two college aged boys, they asked me what I was doing. I slowed a bit, laughingly told them of my insanity. The joked that they should pace me down since they were late getting back to their bus. They ran along behind me for a bit and I chatted with them over my shoulder, but not for long. They got winded, I did not. I was almost sad to reach the end of the trail. There was no one left to greet me, as is par for racing events, but I did not mind, the triumph was all mine and I was elated. I wandered down to the picnic area where I knew they had some post-race food and beverage, and to check in just in case they might think I was lost. I laughingly told them of my added mile or two. Vowed then and there that I would be back next year. As I ate some delicious chicken tortilla soup I chatted with an older man who was an obvious race veteran. He asked if I had done this race before. I confessed that I had only started running in June and this was my first trail run. He got a surprised look on his face, "Your first trail run? This is a tough course, with a pretty high difficulty, especially for a first timer. I'm impressed." I laughed, thanked him and thought, "I'm glad no one told me that sooner, or I might have been worried."
    Today I am a little sore. My leg muscles are all too happy to remind me that they worked hard and well for me yesterday. I am footsore, with a few lovely bruises adding color to my poor feet. But it was worth the small discomfort that was barely acknowledged during my joy and exhilaration. So, add another new passion to the growing list. I love trail running. Granted, it means investing in more appropriate footwear, but I want to keep my feet happy. I really do love my life.

New Regiment

    As the race season winds down I am looking ahead to winter workouts, off season training, making my workouts more about quality than quantity. I know my aging knees cannot handle pounding the pavement for miles and miles, it is just not a good plan, and counter-intuitive. I risk over-use, stress and injury, which would sideline me, as well as just piss me off.
    So, what to do to get my running speed and endurance up? My ongoing research has led me to a few new, and exciting, workout ideas formed around Crossfit principles. By incorporating plyometrics, speed strength training, and more intensive core work I believe I can increase my speed, strength and stamina.   
    Plyometrics trains muscles to have more explosive strength. Plyometric exercises force the body, especially the large muscles of the legs, to do repetitive, quick, explosive moves such as Jump Squats, Lateral High Steps, Jump Sequences, Stepper Jumps, Split Squats with Jump, and the ever unpopular Burpee. You get the idea. These exercises are also intensely aerobic as well, to get the cardiovascular system pumped.
    Speed Strength training is what is at the core of a lot of Crossfit workouts; Set a timer, select 2 or 3 strength training exercises, and do as many sets as possible within the allotted time frame. This is the basic idea behind my Down and Dirty Thirty leg workout, which incorporates strength and plyometric legwork for a solid 30 minutes, no breaks, as many sets as I can manage. It just about, but not quite, gives me dry heaves. I am mentally preparing several similar workouts that will either work my entire body, or be more specific such as legwork or upper body/core work.
    I know that firefighting will require I increase my core strength, wrestling heavy hose is hella tough, and incredibly awesome; think Ultimate Supersoaker. And a strong core is essential in all 3 triathlon disciplines, as well as any obstacle racing I opt do.  So I am looking to add a whole new series of exercises using the Macebelle, Indian Clubs, and Slosh Tubes. This should really work my shoulders, chest and core, and activate muscles vital for heavy lifting, stability, and balance.
    All this has me ready to reorganize the garage to set up my long anticipated home gym. A finished, attached garage giving me space for a gym was one of the big selling points on my little house. Now to make it happen: Mats, bench, pull-up bar, climbing rope, cool paint job, epic posters. The time has come. As soon as the weather turns wet, I am diving into this project.

WTH Am I Thinking?

    Just as I think my race season is near the end, I sign up for another rather brutal event. Race The Reaper, a 6 mile, cross country, obstacle race with 20+ obstacles. I cannot but ask myself, "WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?!" I was wheedled into this my my buddy Josh, a 24 year old firefighter who was at the Stair Climb with me, and a fellow race freak. But damn, he is 24. I am not. Hell, I have a son older than that. I have not been training for obstacle races this summer, focusing my energies on triathlon endurance, two similar but very different training concepts. Yes, I have decent upper body and core strength from swimming and weights, but not what it will take for many of the challenges I know are now looming. And then there is the knee instability issue, the reason I had discarded the idea of doing these types of events. I hear the voices of my doctor, physical therapist and coach, "catastrophic," echoing through my skull. So seriously, what the hell? The hell of it is, I really want to do this. I am excited and planning on giving it every ounce of effort I can. Yeah, so I am a bit of an idiot. As my recruiting officer at the station asked at this last drill, after my epic weekend of Tri and Stair Climb, "When was the last time you had a psyche evaluation?" Yes, it made me laugh, with only a hint of mania.
    In my defense, I am a planner. I am thinking ahead, working out glitches. Tomorrow for my trail run I will be trying KT Tape for the first time. It has a stellar reputation for giving incredible stability to joints. Both knees will be taped, and topped with neoprene knee braces. I am opting to leave my bulky off-loading, stabilizing knee brace at home though. It is wide enough that it alters my running stride. Plus, I do not want to subject a $1000 knee brace to water, mud and god knows what. I think I will take it for after, since it alleviates the arthritis pressure. So, Kt Tape for stability, basic knee sleeves for a little added security as well as knee cap protection, and my ZemTek Terra running shoes to keep my footing nimble and grounded. See, I am thinking this through.
    Two weeks to mentally prepare myself. There is not much I can do in the way of physical prep this late in the game, so this will be all mental for me. I am not worried about running the distance, or even failed attempts at obstacles, only about potential damage to the fragile joints that are my Kryptonite. I have said it before; If my joints were as tough and strong as my muscles and bones, I would be a freakin' superhero. So, let the games begin.

Cold Water Bath, A Necessary Evil

    In the last few weeks I have read a number of articles and testimonials praising the post workout Ice Bath. In my mind, an ice bath is just one step shy of self flagellation with a metal tipped quirt. I do not like cold water, although I have been getting a bit fonder of it in my open water swims. But to bathe in it? What the hell? One of my online athletic geek sites has photos aplenty of naked legs submerged in ice-cube filled bathwater. They make me cringe at the sight. But still, reading these hardcore, endurance athletes singing the praises of ice baths I decided that I needed to sac up and give it a try, at least once, before forming a final opinion. This last sunday was the perfect opportunity: Triathlon in the morning, 40 flights of stairs in 50+ pounds of gear at noon. I knew my legs may very well prevent me from crawling out of bed come monday morning.
    The day was every bit as brutal as I imagined. By the time I got home I could already feel my legs stiffening up, and thought that I was likely too late for a cold bath to make a difference. Although I felt this might be an unfair test of the procedure, I opted to give it a shot anyway. One piece of advice that did not vary: bundle up head and torso to maintain core heat. Okay. I started the bath, deciding that my frigid, straight from the well water would be cold enough, after all, it can cause brain freeze if drank too quickly. I let the tub fill, put on a favorite hoody, and wandered through the house sans pants while the water ran. I did not want to do this. I was already cringing at the thought. Finally, I could not procrastinate any longer. I stepped in, gasping as soon as my feet hit the water. I slowly lowered myself in, gasping and trying to not shout as the water covered my legs. As the cold water hit my delicate girly parts, I almost said, "fuck this." But since the whole day had been a trial, overcoming weakness, Gutting It Out, this seemed somehow appropriate. I sat. Gasped. Cringed. Shivered. Tensed. Then finally, relaxed. It wasn't so bad after the first few shocking moments. It actually started feeling almost... good. I leaned back, stifling a gasp as cold water rode higher up the sensitive curve of my back. My dog Hugo came in to stare at me in bewilderment, not understanding why anyone would willing bathe, though he will jump into frigid rivers in the middle of winter. He was joined by black cat Homer, aka His Shitness. They gave each other a knowing, "she is loonie" look, and bumped heads. They kept me company for the fifteen minute soak, Homer occasionally lapping at the water, Hugo insisting on head scratches. It was relaxing, soothing, time to think over the events of the day in silence with few distractions.
    I finally decided it was time to get out and feed my poor abused body. I wrapped a thick, soft towel around my waist while I started prepping dinner. Then changed to compression shorts and compression socks, and cozy, wool booties. My legs felt great, rejuvenated although still tired. I knew the true test would be in the morning.
    Lo and behold, I have had almost no soreness from my sunday endeavors. To me this is miraculous. The cold water bath seems to have worked it's magic. I will also say, in the studies I have read, the newer data shows better results with a cold water bath versus the ice water bath. Thank the gods, I don't think I have the brass ovaries to sit in a tub of ice water. But I will say, from here on out, a cold bath is de rigueur post event. This coming saturday will be my next opportunity to test the theory as I am running the 5 mile Multnomah Falls Trail Run; steep uphill, steep downhill. Will my quads ever forgive me?

Stair Climb

    The Annual Firefighter's Stair Climb. I had never even heard of the fundraising event until 10 days before the event was to happen. Raising funds for cystic fibrosis, it is exactly what the name implies. Firefighters climbing stairs. In this case, 40 flights up the Bancorp Building in downtown Portland. 40 stories is some serious altitude. It is done in full Turnouts; heavy jacket, pants, heavy boots, helmet and SCBA (self contained breathing apparatus). It is probably a good 50 plus pounds of gear, and being that it is fireproof, it is thick and does not breathe. At all. Sweating profusely is part of the game. Dripping wet, saturating sweat. And the SCBA, I do not have much practice with it yet, so it had the feel of an Alien Facehugger.
    So, to pick up where my last writing left off: Blasting crosstown from Saint John's to downtown Portland. Not fun under any circumstance. Less fun with a tight schedule and not a clear idea of where the hell I was going. Of course, I passed my street and went about ten blocks before I realized my error. That may not sound like much, but in Portland where all streets are one-way, and have bus only lanes, and Maxx trains dominating, and add in the police cordoning off random streets for the AIDS Walk, it all had a nightmarish quality. I could actually see the building I needed to reach, since it is the tallest one in the area but could not reach it. Finally, knowing time was running out, I parked about five blocks away and schlepped all my gear to the location. Damn, I was already tired, and then hauling gear with tired arms, it was like adding an extra leg to the race. Finally, the building loomed into sight and I staggered inside. Thankfully I was met by a few of my comrades from Station One, they relieved me of my burdens so I could sign in, get my timing chip and slip into gear. The bag pipes were already playing for the Tenth Battalion as I pulled on my Turnouts, glad that we have to practice gearing up and my best time so far is 58 seconds. I fell into the second to the last position, in the last battalion, and tightened straps as we walked.
    I had about 15 minutes to gather myself, chat with the others standing in line, as we were sent in one by one. I pulled on the mask of my SCBA, breathing through the filter, not hooked to O2 yet. We chatted, our voices amplified and tinny through the built in microphones of the mask. Finally, my turn. I clipped on the O2 and was rewarded with a shot of cool, pure oxygen. Time to climb. I was already tired. I started up, my legs complaining that we had already swam half a mile, biked 12, and ran a 5K. I told them to shut the hell up. Three flights up and I didn't think I could keep going, my legs were so damned tired, and I was using a ridiculous amount of oxygen trying to keep my flagging muscles supplied. But I kept climbing. I started counting down the remaining flights: only 36 to go, 29 to go, 27 to go... It seemed like an eternity. At about the 25th floor I had to take off the SCBA mask, I was running low on O2 and knew I wouldn't be able to cope with that last gasp of air that sucks the mask to your face. Yeah, I wimped out on that one. I kept climbing. The Captain that had come in last, behind me, passed me, as I was now pausing at every floor, convincing myself I could do this. A volunteer came up behind me, he was like the chase boat in my first Tri swim, keeping an eye on the last entrant, Me. He offered to take the SCBA, I declined, I could do this. My exhausted quadriceps burned, complained, ached, trembled. Each step was a minor victory.
    Finally, floor 40, Victory. But wait. What cruel jest? I have to climb to 41. Not funny. Not funny at all. But I continued upwards. Stepped through the door and was met by a small crowd relieving me of my SCBA, helmet and jacket, handing me ice cold water, shaking my hand and congratulating me. I was suddenly far less tired. I was elated. The agony of the climb forgotten. One of my comrades was there, waiting for me. We sat and drank water, chatted, congratulated each other, laughed at how much harder it was than we had imagined. I had made it to the top. Another challenge accepted and met. Not fast, certainly, but Epic, definitely.
    Next year I will be better prepared, a (almost) vetted firefighter and not a complete newb, and in much better shape. I am not sure what I will do if the Stair Climb and Portland Tri fall on the same day again. I may blow off the Tri, not because of the physical difficulty of two events in the same day, but because I want to revel in the pageantry of the Stair Climb; firefighters massing, marching, being led by a Piper in full Highland regalia. I want to experience the whole event, not just a small slice. And next year, I will ace this. 

Epic Day. Slow, But Epic.

    Today was my last Tri of the season. As well as my first time doing the Firefighter's Stair Climb. I had hoped to put in a stellar performance at the Tri, but I can't say it was my best effort. No, I take that back, it was my best effort because I had to work so damned hard to get through it. The days did not start out fabulous, I woke with chest congestion and my stomach was unhappy. I had to force myself to eat. And nothing settled in very well. I had a banana with a little peanut butter before I left the house at 5:15am. And managed to get half a protein bar down shortly before I arrived at the site. But my energy felt okay, despite it all.
    It was a cold morning. No surprise, it is now autumn, and it was barely past sunup. But once I was zipped into my Selkie suit I did not notice the cold. The swim started out decently, as we swam 100 yards across the current to the first buoy. But then the left turn, into the current. Swimming upstream, in the middle of the Willamette is not easy. As a matter of fact, it sucks. It felt like so much work to make even the smallest headway. And the lung cheese and upset stomach I woke with decided it was time for an encore. I actually get mild motion sickness when swimming in open water if there are even the smallest of waves. But I soldiered on. "Gut it Out," was the motto for the day. Finally, after an eternity of swimming, I staggered to shore. I really wanted to get to Joshua and into the saddle.
    The bike ride went well, as usual, but I had lost so much time in the swim that I was at the back of the pack. I really had to push myself just to maintain the status quo. It was over all too soon, and I was back in transition, ready for the run. Now is when things got dodgy. I think I am allergic to cottonwood trees. It is the only explanation. I started having bronchial constriction less than a quarter mile in. This time I was prepared with my inhaler though. As a matter of fact, I went the whole 5K with the inhaler in my hand. I had to stop and walk repeatedly as my breathing issues didn't want to subside easily. I finally found my stride in the last mile and was making decent time until I got back into the park and under the cottonwood trees and my breath started whistling in my throat. Nothing like feeling strangled to put a crimp on the sprint to the finish. But I did finish. Even though there were a number of times when I felt like stopping and taking a DNF. But I didn't. Instead I wandered about for a few minutes, kind of wanting to soak my legs in the cold water of the river, before giving up on that notion and packing up my gear.
     As much as I would have liked to dwell at the Tri, and gnosh on the tasty food presented for all the athletes, I had to blast cross town to the Bancorp building for the Firefighter's Stair Climb, and I was running drastically short on time. But that is for another blog. Tomorrow. Because today kicked my ass, and I am tired. But honestly, I feel great. My body feels good, my mind feels sharp, my mood is mellow and yet elated.

Vigilance

    One of the many weird things about being female are "Fat Days." You all know exactly what I am talking about. I weigh no more today than I did yesterday, and feel great mentally and physically. But oddly, I feel fat today. I know for a fact that even the sleekest, professional, female athletes have Fat Days. There really is no rhyme or reason to it. It just Is. What is the cure, the remedy, the elixir? Eat less, workout more? Not this week. I am in a Taper Week, so restricting calories is not the best idea. Keeping an eye on what goes into my system, yes, I always do that. Even when I am allowing myself an indulgence, I keep an eye on things to keep it all from getting out of hand. Being a recovering carbohydrate addict, I know how easy it is to fall off the wagon, to pump up my system with white sugar and high fructose corn syrup. I am vigilant against such a depraved downfall, cautious, careful, ever watchful. So, despite my vigilance, what the hell is up with the Fat Day? And why now? I blame it, as I blame a lot of my physical and mental oddities, on hormones. The ongoing Hormonal Shitstorm my body has been subjected to for too long. I do know that today is not the day to fall off the wagon. I am being watchful, concerned. I also am looking forward to a good swim this afternoon. I don't plan on going too crazy, but it is my last lesson before Attila the Yoda heads off to college, and my last real swim before my final Tri of the season. I will swim my regular two hours, focusing on form and breathing. It will feel good to slip through the water, work my body in ways that no other form of exercise can quite match. It will help me to burn away this Fat Day, put it behind me, and move on towards my upcoming Epic Weekend of self imposed torture.

Another Event, Another Recovery and Taper

    Saturday made for a nice Training Brick. I cycled 7 miles into Mount Angel, ran my 5K in 32.19 minutes, hung out with a friend, then cycled home to a breakfast of high protein, gluten free pancakes with crunchy peanut butter and banana. Of course the cycling was beautiful, it was a gorgeous morning, and the bike is my strongest discipline by far. I love being on Joshua with the clean, crisp country air in my face and the back country asphalt rolling beneath his wheels. I do plan on really upping my bike miles once I have a better grip on the swim and run aspects of triathlon. My run felt pretty decent, though I wanted to come in under 30 minutes, which is still a slow pace. But I ran my race, at a solid, steady pace. I did have some fun speeding up and passing a lot of people in the early stages of the run. It was a mass start of several hundred people, which was a new experience for me. I did have a brief asthma episode at about mile 3, which made me have to back off, and kept me from a last minute kick to the finish. But I kept running, even while I was getting my bronchial tubes to stop making me feel like I was strangling. I think I need to keep my inhaler with me when I run. I don't like that, at all, but this isn't the first time asthma has nearly sidelined me in a run, and I'm sure it won't be the last. All in all, I really did feel good. Yes, there were a few points when my calves felt the burn, but I easily told myself that it was just 5K, and I knew I could withstand anything for the brief time it took to run the distance.
    I admit, I looked at saturday's race as a good workout, a way to practice my pacing, and more experience in the racing circuit to help me become more at ease before every start. Now I am into a Taper Week. Again. I don't do Tapers very well, but I am beginning to understand them and myself better with each event. I know I don't need to "take the week off." That is not tapering. But I also know I should not be doing hard workouts, or plyometric strength training. But I can do my standard weight workouts, mild cardio, and I do plan on swimming tomorrow, though I probably won't do the full two hours that I usually do. My upcoming weekend will be the toughest endurance day I have done to date: Portland Sprint Tri in the morning, and The Firefighter's Stair Climb at noon. Yeah, the guys at the station think I a bit crazy, but I am very excited. I know I can do this. I also know that my nutrition and workouts this week will be more important than they have been for past, easier events.
    I admit, training for Tris has been one of the best things I have ever done for myself, and I love the training regiment. Getting to work in the different disciplines, studying techniques, training tips, reading coaching articles, refining my nutrition. It appeals to the sports-geek in me, the student of fitness that lurks within. I read incessantly, gleaning bits of information here and there, from experts around the world. It has been an amazing learning experience, as well as a great physical journey. Yes, I am a geek, I love the research almost as much as the workouts themselves. I can't help it.
    So, I'm eating clean, healthy and almost-but-not-quite Paleo. My weight is staying rock solid at 165. My jean size is now down to Levi's size 10 (from a snug 16, not too damned bad, if I do say). But most important is how I feel. I feel 20 years old, light on my feet, svelte, long and lean, strong and wiry. I have re-imagined my body, rebuilt myself in a better form. I am developing the strong limbed, wide shouldered, narrow-hipped, lean body of a swimmer and Triathlete. I feel reborn, truly. I am excited for my winter training schedule. Excited to have a few months of solid training, uninterrupted by Taper weeks, or recovery weeks, just down and dirty, hardcore conditioning. I am so excited.

Bike Run Bike

    I am feeling the approaching end of my race season, and it makes me a little blue. I have a 5K in the morning, and I plan on cycling to it, since it is only about 7 miles away. Next weekend will likely be a bit brutal, I am doing the Portland Sprint Tri in the morning, and then at noon I will be participating in The Portland Firefighter's Stair Climb. Yeah, Stair Climb. Forty flights in my full Turnout gear, with a 35lb SCBA (self contained breathing apparatus) pack on my back. Forty stories of the Bancorp building in downtown Portland. I am excited, I think it will be a great adventure. There are over 400 firefighters already registered, I am climbing with Battalion 10. What's the worst that could happen? Probably that I puke and can't finish. But I don't plan on that being the end result. I can do this, I know I can. And it will put a nice notch in my "Cool Shit I Have Done" list.
    But for now, I need to be focused on tomorrow's race. True, it is only a 5K, but just a few months ago I did not think I would be running any races. My hope for tomorrow is to run at a better pace than I have to date. I think the cycle in will help me be warmed and ready to run. I'm also looking at it as a good brick workout of cycle/run/cycle. A mini, reverse duathlon. But the main goal is a decent time. To find my 5K pace. To run a solid race.
    I have been taking my pre-race nutrition as serious as I would before a triathlon. I have been careful all week to consume quality protein and carbs, no crap, no processed foods. I am eating clean, careful, healthy, and it feels great. My energy tomorrow should be optimal.
    I am excited for my run tomorrow, and for future runs. I love being able to find events, register, show up, participate, and leave with a sense of accomplishment. Running is becoming a solid aspect of my life. Yes, I do it because it is one of the three disciplines of Triathlon, I love cross training, variety, the strength it gives me, the way it has altered my physique. Swim, Cycle, Run. A triad, perfect for me. Tomorrow, I Run.

Feeling Remarkable

    I am feeling remarkably great after my recent Tri. My body feels good, very little muscle soreness. True, my calves are a little tight, but not nearly where they were after the first Tri. I know my training is paying off. True, my times were not spectacular, but they were better, and my body felt much better during the race. And my recovery rate has been outstanding.
    So now I know that I can Taper less, and get back to training sooner than I had expected. I know a rest period is needed after exertion, but I do not feel any different than if I had just done a really good workout two days ago. Tonight I am back at the pool, working on my stroke, building my shoulders. Tomorrow I plan on doing my Down and Dirty 30 for legs before I head off to firefighter drill. I know what my body can withstand, and what it thrives on. I know that I do not sit idle well. I know that inactivity makes me hurt worse than an ass-kicking workout.
    I am diving into research again, looking for ways to increase my performance, new and exciting exercises to add to the regime, even better nutrition. I want to have an epic Sprint Tri right out of the gates next spring, and move right on to Olympic distance. Hell, I may jump straight to Olympic distance. But or now, I will keep analyzing each discipline, increase my knowledge of training techniques, keep tweaking my nutrition, maybe start training with a group to make sure I push myself further. I think this will be an epic winter on many levels.

It Is Good To Have Goals

    Second Tri: Done! And did far better this time around. My swim went well, shaved a solid 10 minutes off the time, about 30%, and never once felt any panic. Granted, I did not put my face in the water, which I know effected my time, but I do not care. That is a challenge to be overcome in time. The bike leg was tough with some brutal hills, but Joshua and I did okay. The run gave me a few problems, my asthma kicked in about a quarter mile into it, so I had to take it easy. Next time I'm taking a hit off the inhaler before the run.
    Now that my second Tri is in the books, I am critically analyzing what needs to be done to improve. I know there is not a lot I can do before my next one, which is a mere two weeks away. But what I am looking at now is my off-season training. I know I shouldn't go too crazy, but I want to push myself. I want to know just how far I can go. I want Sprint Triathlons to be easy. I want to do Olympic distance without feeling miserable. I want to do a Half-Ironman, and cross the finish line in decent time. These are the goals. One step at a time. I will continue training much as I am now, but with increased intensity. I cannot slack through a workout. I want quality, intense workouts that make the most of my time and energy. I have ideas. I am mentally compiling a few different regiments that I will begin implementing in October, after my last Tri for the season.
    I do have a few runs on the schedule; a 5K next weekend, and a 5 mile trail run at the end of the month. I will continue to enter runs as a way to keep my mind in the game, and as a way to judge my level. I am very attracted to trail runs, and am looking for what is available the next few months. I plan on running at least a 5K every month, but preferably a 10K. There is a 25K trail run in February that I would love to do, if it does not interfere with my firefighter's academy, we shall see.
    For tonight though, I will rest on my laurels. I ran a good race today, place 3rd in my age bracket and 22nd female overall. I don't know if those numbers mean jack, since I don't know how many competitors there were. But I do know I swam better and my transitions were smoother. True, my cycling and running were about at the same level as last time, but that is because I decided to focus all my energies on improving my swim. And I did. So: Goal Accomplished. Now, after a few days rest, I will continue with my swimming regiment as is, it is working well for me. And I will get out on the bike more. My knees will only handle a finite amount of running, so I must be delicate in that discipline, but I will run more this winter than I have in my entire life, be sure of it.
    Next Season: Olympic Tri, Half-Marathon, and (hopefully) Half-Ironman. It is good to have goals.

Countdown Is On

    Counting the hours until my next race, 46.5 hours from the starting horn. I am excited, and planning on pushing myself, leaving nothing on the course. I will improve my time on each leg. I do wish I had more time to train, of course, but being as this is my very first season as a competitor, my first year to enter races of any kind, and still only 4 months out of knee surgery, I think I am doing quite well. I am still on the fence about the distance I want to do on my final Tri of the season, Sprint or Olympic. I look at both sides of the coin: Sprint, I can push myself to a PR, finish higher in both the overall and my age category, finish with a High; or Olympic, push my body beyond anything I have tried as yet, get a taste of more endurance, finish lower in the overall, but know I really went above and beyond. Both have their own levels of difficulty, both have their payoffs. After my race this sunday I will be solid in my plan. The key is The Swim.
    The Swim, my Achilles' Heel. But I am far better prepared this time out. I have better skills, better tools, more experience, a better concept of what to expect. Last night's swim was lovely. The weather was perfect,  The Cove was peaceful and beautiful, my attitude was great. I had the entire place all to myself, except for a few curious ducks. I slipped into the water without trepidation, relaxed, happy. I still do not want my face in the murky water, but that is okay for now. I knew I would swim easy this close to a race, just practicing long, smooth strokes. I swam out to the near buoy and back several times. The first of the autumn leaves were floating in the water and on several occasions I felt their gentle, clinging touch on my limbs. But did I shriek like a girl? Did I Panic? Did I levitate out of the water and sprint towards dry land? Did I envision ghastly tentacles reaching up from the dark depths to caress my skin before yanking me into the weeds to suck the flesh from my bones? No. No, I did not. And I am very proud of myself. Okay, maybe I toyed a little with the tentacles image, but just a little. I kept calm, kept swimming, enjoyed the feel of my body in the water. I climbed out of the water, relaxed on the dock for a bit enjoying the perfection of the evening, letting the warm air dry my skin. I decided one more lap to the buoy before heading for home, the water felt so good.
    So, now with less than 2 days until kick off, it is about relaxation, rest and keeping nutrition on track. I have a massage scheduled for this afternoon to work out any tight muscles, and just for the sheer pleasure. Tonight I will repeat the delicious, high protein "taco pie" that served me so well before my 10K. Eat clean, good protein, good carbs, plenty of fluids. I have stayed on track with this all week, and feel great. The countdown is on, I will make this an A Race.

 

Selkie Dreams

    I had a strange, interesting, encouraging dream last night. I ponder my Dreams in daylight, my goals, hopes, wishes, plans, Dreams. But this was a dream, weird, convoluted, yet clear and on point with my Dreams. I was competing in a triathlon at a resort somewhere in the mountains. A beautiful resort, lake with clear water, tall fir trees shading the cycling and running routes. It is the swimming leg of my dream that seems most important; I did my swim easily, comfortably, and getting out of the water I thought to myself, "Now I know I'm ready to do an Olympic Tri." Really and truly. It makes me think that my subconscious mind has full faith in my abilities. Deep in the grey matter recesses of Brain lies the proof that I am ready. Brain knows, though won't admit it easily in the light of day. Brain knows and proves it in the still of the night.
    I do have swim gear strapped to the motorcycle for an after work swim. I am not planning to swim hard, or even far. What I plan is to play in the water. Gear up, cannonball off the dock, paddle around, blow bubbles, float, bob in the water, play. Plain and simple. I think this is the practice I need more than distance, more than lap after lap. I need to relax and enjoy the water. I do love the feeling of weightlessness. The freedom. I want to feel like a Selkie in the water. A Selkie, the shapeshifter of lore, shedding their seal skin to become human and dance on the sand, slipping back into seal skin and returning to their home in the waves. I want to be a Selkie. I will be a Selkie.

Off Season Training Thoughts

    With two Triathlons and a few foot races left in the season, I am already looking ahead to my off-season training. Once the dark days of winter hit, it will be nigh on impossible to get out to run or cycle after work so I will, sadly, have to be more reliant on treadmill and bike roller. But I will use them, boring as they are, because there is nothing quite like repetition to keep endurance levels up. Happily, I will have access to my beloved swim center, and will likely up my swims to 3 per week. Partly to compensate for few road miles, but largely to reach the point of being able to comfortably complete the swim of an half-Ironman next year.
    Also on the agenda will be increased strength training. This will serve several purposes: Strength can increase stamina; Strength can increase speed; and most importantly, Firefighter Academy starts in January and I will be hauling hose, lifting ladders, packing a 40lb SCBA, wrecking shit with an ax, and generally having to be a rough and tumble firefighter every weekend for 3 months. Hell, I figure the Academy will help make up for lack of road miles, 'cause it sure will take strength and stamina.
    I also will add Pilates and Yoga back into my regiment. They did me right this last winter, helping reduce stress, tight muscles, and adding balance and strength as well. I know that the more I train the more I will need to work on flexibility.
    Also key to the Plan will be to define and refine my eating habits even more. I want to really dial in my nutrition to help alleviate digestive and inflammatory issues that I know can be triggered by what goes into my gullet. I have planted my winter greens garden and am hoping it will provide me with fresh spinach, Swiss chard, lettuce, beets, kale and parsnips until well into winter. If I tend it right, it should work out. I am tempted to add a third raised bed that can be easily covered with row cloth for an even later crop of spinach. But that is kind of on the back burner, at least until next weekend, my one "off" weekend between now and mid-October. Dairy continues to be off limits, and I still really miss my g'damned milk, but I am getting used to the deprivation. Whey protein seems to be digestible, but as I have recently learned, the egg and milk protein powder I bought has to be used judiciously. I baked up a batch of cornbread and added more than 1/4 cup to the batter, not only did it alter the texture in a weird way, it also caused uncomfortable internal rumblings. I'm glad I discovered this fact last night, and not in my meals the day before the next race.
    Yes, thinking ahead into winter. But also remaining focused on the Now. 4 days until the next sprint Tri, and 18 days to my first Olympic distance Tri. I am a little nervous, but more excited and eager. I am remaining focused on my goals, refining and defining, planning, plotting, scheming, and working hard.

New Highs

    Another OW swim, still don't like having my face in cold murky water. Fortunately, my wetsuit keeps me buoyant enough that I can swim decently without having to submerge my face. I know this is not optimal, but it is where I am at right now. And I'm okay with that. There is time to conquer this phobia before next season. And I realize it is a phobia: "A persistent. abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous." Yeah, it's like that. For sure. But I will overcome it, in time. I will beat this demon into submission and make him my bitch. And for this season, I will swim my best, cycle hard, and run my race.
    Yesterday I was dealing with a lot of inner demons. Those lying bastards that whisper doubts and fears, giggle at my anxiety, laugh uproariously at my tears. Yes, it is frustrating, maddening, depressing. But it is also a part of life. No one is perfect, even the best athletes in the world have off days, feelings of doubt, performance anxiety. But I had put them to rest before my head hit the pillow. Today, they have been mostly silent. Mostly.
    I do know that my next event will be far better than my last. I have a better idea of my limits and so am going to leave it all on the course. I will push myself as hard as I am able. I know I will swim better, thanks to  the tools I have gathered to address some issues: wetsuit for buoyancy; contacts so I can see; anti-fog spray for my goggles; inhaler for asthma. Joshua is tuned, has a better fitting seat, and is properly lubed. I have fantastic, minimalist shoes that weigh a bare fraction of what my other shoes do.  So I feel I am set. I am better prepared, mentally, physically, and materialistically. I am excited for my next adventure. Excited to set new highs, to reach for a new personal best.

Up Too Early

    Into Taper Week. This morning, as much as I wanted to sleep late, Brain and Body would not allow it. Neither would the dogs, for that matter. So I spent a little time, feigning sleep, thinking of the past few weeks, my upcoming event and planning my week, strategizing. I rode Joshua a dozen miles yesterday, in high gears, high pedal reps, lower speed, taking it easy. I think I will ride again today, since it does not tax my muscles, and I do not want to let my muscles take a total vacation this week. This morning, since I am up early, I have decided that some time walking on the treadmill would be beneficial. I won't run this week, I know I can do the 5K, and nothing I can do at this point will increase my speed in that discipline.
    Later today, I will take the wetsuit back to The Cove, and stick my face in the water. I may swing by the store and see if they have tinted goggles in the style of Speedo that I love. I purchased a nice pair of Speedos with wider, green tinted lenses, thinking they would be better for my OW swims. They were not as comfortable as mine, but I figured they would be fine for the 30 minutes I would be in the lake, but it was the fact that the right side leaked that made me have to return them, and welcome back my little, comfy pair.
    I have a confession to make. I have purchased another wetsuit. Online. Through The Clymb Labor Day Sale. I could not help myself. It is a 2XU R:1 racing suit. It was clearance priced at $93. The regular price? $464. That's right, Four Hundred Sixty Four Bucks. Never in my life would I be able to justify spending that kind of money on any article of clothing, ever. Especially what is essentially a luxury item. Okay, not really a luxury, since alleviating the sensation of imminent drowning has no price tag. But I did save $371 and am getting a premier suit for the price of a used, mediocre suit. I still feel a little guilty, as well as giddy. The suit will not be here in time for my upcoming event, but it will be here in plenty of time for the Portland Tri, where I am planning on entering the Olympic distance. It is a full suit though, and I think I would have preferred a shorty, but this will let me swim in all temperatures. Hell, I may do OW swims all winter. Maybe.
    Time's a-wasting, I need to get dressed, pour another cup of coffee and hit the treadmill for a bit, just to warm the muscles, nothing arduous. Then maybe a bit of Yoga. Like I have mentioned before, I do not Taper well.
   

Lessons For Today

    This evening I am addressing a few topics, ideas rumbling around in my brain. As I take this journey from casual athlete towards competitive Triathlete I know there is far more than just the training of my muscles. There is more than knowing how to swim, cycle and run. I believe that what takes someone from weekend warrior to full fledged beast goes far deeper than muscle.
    I know for a fact now, that the swim is my weakest link. Why? Not because I am not a decent swimmer, but because I am fighting against inner voices with every single stroke. It is not coming easily or smoothly for me. That in itself is frustrating, and has had me in tears more than once. Not only am I struggling with tension that sucks the energy from my limbs, but I am fighting an odd new batch of heretofore unknown demons. I have never spent enough time in the water, or ever tried to be a serious swimmer, and so my anxiety has been hidden deep, and safely, within my subconscious. Much to my dismay, I might add. Amazing how these skeletons can come to light, float to the surface, when one steps far beyond the fringe of the comfort zone. This has become a serious battle for me. I am sure many might think I am just being dramatic, over-exaggerating, blowing it all out of proportion. But I know how I feel with my face in the water, and it really is unlike almost anything I have experienced before. So I know this will be an important hurdle for me. But I also know that I can face this challenge and win the battle. I am taking steps, adding tools, building weapons to face the challenge. I admit, I do wish Coach could be at my side during my open water swims, I feel much braver when he is with me, but he is out of the state for the next month. So I am on my own. But each event I will be better, faster, more confident in the water. Hell, my first swim was so dismally horrific that there is no way I can't improve upon it.
    My inner voices, taunting demons, naysaying thoughts are battering at the door as well. I can be my own worst enemy at times such as these. Knowing the voices lie, but believing them anyway. So into my arsenal I have to add sport psychology. I need to calm the demons, quiet the voices, bring skeletons to light for proper burial. I know I can do this as well. I am nothing if not good at self-analysis, self-therapy. I will allow my confidence to grow, along with my physical skills. I will not let myself succumb to self doubt, tears, panic, fear. I will continue to train mind and body, seeking help as much as possible, going it alone when I have to.
    Today was not a great day for me. I had zero motivation, and was ridiculously hungry all day. I did not accomplish much and have been chastising myself accordingly. This is another issue to address. It is okay to take down time. I do not need to be On 100% of the time. Today I did clean and lube Joshua, and take him out on an easy jaunt around the countryside, trying to clear my head, reduce stress, calm my jangled nerves. It was working fine until the 4X4 full of redneck dickheads pulled up behind me as I neared the crest of a bitch of a hill and shouted, "Get the fuck off of the road!" And then roared past, flipping me off from every window. I yelled back, gave them the finger, then pulled over to the side of the road and cried, hard. As a matter of fact I cried for a good part of the ride home. But then, instead of berating myself long and loud, or doing a hellish weight workout (my usual cure for weeping stress), I went over to my wonderful neighbors' and ate homemade pizza. I did not chastise myself for sloth, gluttony, laziness. I enjoyed their companionship, laughed, told them about my swim yesterday, including my panic over the "tentacle" that was just my own braid floating in the water. It was a balm for my soul. Maybe I fell off the wagon just a bit nutrition-wise, but got back on track emotionally. I need to allow this. I cannot be the Stepford athlete.
    So, what have I learned today? Swimming will improve. Demons are liars. Train Body and Mind. Down time is okay, and necessary. Relaxation can be as important as strength. And abusive, foul-mouthed rednecks are ass-hats.

Taper Week

    Now I am into the toughest week in my training regiment: The Taper Week. I do not Taper very well. At all. I want to keep pushing myself, adding to my arsenal, building strength and stamina. But I know the reality, that it is too late in the game to add either strength or stamina for my next event. But that knowledge does not make me not want to try. I am more than a little obsessed with Faster, Stronger, Better.
    I will take Joshua out on a few short, easy rides. More to get him dialed in, and to remind myself of my love of cycling, and my love of Joshua. My ride yesterday was sweet, trying out my new seat, stretching my legs. But I noticed that my seat needed a little more height, so I tweaked it as soon as I got home. I also have some dry-lube and want to give him a going over to make sure everything is flowing smoothly.
    I will also go to The Cove and swim. Short, relaxing swims to get used to the wetsuit. And maybe, by the grace of the gods, get better at putting my face in the nasty water. That will take some practice, some desensitization. But it can only happen with practice, practice, practice. Yes, I am doing a lot of mental work as well. But nothing beats face-in-the-water practice.
    As a treat for myself, and a definite boost for my body, I have scheduled a massage for Friday with friends that I have the utmost faith in. I have long known that massage would help me get the most from my body, but I have procrastinated. Now, the idea of a nice going over 40 hours before my race is filling me with delight. I am sure weekly work on my neck and shoulders would be of massive benefit. I think I will try and make it so. As for now, Friday afternoon will be the grand finale of Taper Week.
    Saturday I plan on resting, eating right, maybe doing some housework, light yardwork. I may even do some easy Yoga. But I know that what my body needs this week for peak performance is simple, basic R&R. Rest and Relaxation. But damn, that is so not my style.

Wetsuit Test Drive, Number One

    Wetsuit test drive was a success. I took the new wetsuit out to The Cove at Clackamette Park, a spot I have been meaning to visit for the last month. I have managed to talk myself out of open water swims this last month or so, and frankly, I am glad I waited until I had the warmth and buoyancy of a wetsuit. The water was cold, and green, with enough murk to hide potential homicidal, flesh eating creatures just out of arm's reach. There were only a half dozen people hanging out along the shore, and it is a decent sized body of water. One solitary swimmer, slogging through the water, I imagine he was a fellow triathlete, since I know this is the preferred training spot to practice open water swims. So in effect, I just about had the place to myself. Nothing like a lone swimmer to attract lurking water monsters. Interesting point about this spot, it has swim buoys marking a half mile course in the water, perfect for training.
    I climbed down the hill to a rocky stretch of shoreline, surveyed the water, trying to feel enthusiastic and calm, instead of slightly nervous. Actually, I felt pretty good about going into the water. I felt as if my wetsuit would wrap me in the same comforting, protective feel as my motorcycle leathers do. It would ward off the Lake Monsters. Wading in, water cold on my legs, but the wetsuit was warm, protective, comforting. I pushed off into deeper water, and miraculously, floated like a cork. I was delighted. I easily stroked my way out into ever deeper water, further from the safety of the shore. I used arms only, letting my legs stay streamlined behind me, propelling myself easily through the water. I kept my face clear of the water, which was surprisingly easy with the suit keeping my torso on top of the water. Now for the test: Face in the water. Oh my god, I still hate it. It still makes me have difficulty breathing. Was it the cold? The murk? The potential gross bacteria? All of the above? Regardless, I still hate it. I went back to the easy stroking, face above water. Not as fast, not as efficient, but not panic inducing either.
    As I continued out, further from shore, further from my entry point, I experimented with a few strokes. I added a scissor kick, which seemed to really push me through the water. I alternated between arms only and adding a kick, feeling the difference. I roll over onto my back, backstroke being the most natural, perpetual motion stroke for me. It felt glorious, until I caught sight of something flittering in the water, just behind my right ear, which nearly propelled me straight out of the water. It was one of my own braids, not a tentacle. I felt sheepish, and glad no one had witnessed my momentary freak-out. I rolled over onto my chest, breast stroking for a moment, reminding myself that there was absolutely nothing in the water that was going to eat me alive, and that during a Tri swim, it is a target rich environment for any lake creatures, so it greatly reduces the odds of my own demise by consumption.
    I only swam about a quarter mile, I was not out there to practice distance, or increase stamina. This close to race day my stamina will not get any better by a few more swims. This was all about testing the suit, testing my nerve, practicing face in the water. Reassuring myself that the next swim will not have the nightmarish quality of the last one. I will go back to The Cove again today, and tomorrow as well, to lessen the anxiety. I will prove to myself that the water is not the enemy. I will prove to myself what I know in my heart; that I can and will be a strong swimmer and a competitive Triathlete. I can do this. I have the body, I have the strength, I have the tools. I can and will conquer my fears, it is just a matter of practice.      

Pieces of the Puzzle

    Things seem to be falling into place nicely. The Fates, Powers That Be, Wee Folk, Guardian Spirits, all seem to be steering my into lucky happenstance.
    Simple case in point: Decided to swing past Best Buy to look at, of all things, washing machines. I know, how very plebeian. As I pulled off my helmet I noticed for the very first time a cycling shop. A nice, big, shiny, expensive looking cycling shop. I really want to find a new stem for Joshua's handlebars, and though it is not at the top of my list, it is something I will want before an Olympic Tri. After my delirious, and fruitless, venture into Appliance Land, I wandered over to the cycle store. It was pretty damned glorious. I cruised past the sleek clothing, the aerodynamic helmets, the exorbitantly priced cleated shoes, and headed straight back to the parts section. Cruising the aisles I turned a corner to see that all the Forte seats were on sale. A great sale. One thing I have known is that my ass really wanted a bit more padding before I to the 25 mile Olympic distance, and my Tri-sui does not offer near the padding as my Camari shorts. It was swim night so time was limited, my eyes raked over the beautiful options and rested on the Softail. Not only does it share the name with a classic Harley style and look about perfect for my needs, it was marked down to $20. Yeah, that's right, twenty bucks. I did the happy dance, grabbed the seat, clutched it to my chest and would have run to the counter if I hadn't needed to inquire about the needed handlebar stem.  Needless to say, the acquisition of an awesome new seat obliterated any disappointment I would have felt when the nice counter guy told me they didn't have any "old school" stems in stock, though he did steer me to another good shop. So, new seat: Acquired. I installed it last night and will take it out for a test ride later today. Super happy on this score.
    Next up has been the "sink like a stone" dilemma. I don't know if it is my lowered body fat, dense muscle, or maybe I have bones made of Adamantium like Wolverine. That may explain why I have never broken a bone *knock on wood*. So I had decided to buy a wetsuit. I perused Craigslit, searched the web, researched brands. There is a lot of information on wetsuits for Triathletes. Of course the product I found, and covet, "The Speed Tube" are capri length swim pants of 5mm neoprene designed for "swimmers with a weak kick and buoyancy issues." That would be me. But with a price tag of $200, that would NOT be me. With the knowledge that a wetsuit had to be in my near future I began weighing options. Yes, Sports Authority carries a very nice suit designed for Triathletes with the slightly less sticker-shock tag of $120 on sale. But still, I can't justify that kind of money when I have exactly 2 Tris left this season. Again, the Fates stepped in with a little nudge. I had to return a pair of goggles to Big Five, they leaked and were not as comfy as my little Speedos. Just across the way from Big Five is a Goodwill that I have visited often, so I decided to swing through there and take a peek. I was looking for a wetsuit, knowing that once in a Blue Moon they will show up on the rack. Finding the rack wasn't too easy, but finally I espied the snow bibs and it looked like a logical place. Lo and behold, on the rack, a sleeveless, shorty wetsuit of 5mm neoprene. Not a glamorous, aerodynamic, over engineered suit, but a decent looking, like-new suit with a price tag of $25. The question; would it fit? It looked small. But then, I am smaller. I took it to the dressing rooms and told the clerk, "If I get stuck in this, I will call you."  Not only did I not get stuck, I did not have to struggle, too much anyway, to get the suit on. It fits like a second skin. It couldn't fit better if I had been given all the sizing options available. It feels like it was made for my body. And Twenty-five bucks! To say I am elated is the classic understatement. I am so eager to take it for a test swim today. I will go to The Cove at Clackamette Park and test swim it in open water. I know this will work. True, I am really banking on this being a good solution for my swimming anxieties, and I do hope I am not setting myself up for bitter disappointment, but I think this may be the last piece of the puzzle for me. So now to add to my already decent assortment of gear I have great shoes that did me right in a 10K, I have a more comfortable seat that will prevent my ass and tender girly parts from feeling brutalized, and now I have a wetsuit that should allow me to use energy for forward propulsion. I am getting excited for my next endeavor.