I freaked myself out all day long. The plan was to join the Wednesday hill ride — especially since I missed the women’s ride the night before (stupid work). The hill ride is a co-ed ride and I don’t have much experience riding with boys aside from James (who obviously adjusts the level of our rides for me). I only knew of one other girl going this evening and she’s wicked strong. But another teammate (and owner of the B-wood) told me I should try it. She’d been on a couple and we ride at a similar pace — so I figured okay. Maybe I could do it…

But the more and more I thought about it today, I totally started psyching myself out. Then I emailed Tracy to see if she was going and didn’t hear from her. So, I hemmed and hawwed and I finally forced myself to leave work early (it would have been easy to stay late and use that as my excuse). And even on the car ride over to the B-wood, I questioned myself. I was afraid I’d be so slow. I was afraid no one would wait for me and even if I did get dropped in St. Paul (and knew my way home), I wasn’t sure I was up for that particular experience.

As soon as I pulled up to the B-wood, I saw Tracy. She was coming. Relief came. Another female rider, Annie, was there (although, she’s way stronger than me, too). And all the guys were super-nice.

I was the slowest one there. The hills were tough. But the rest was a good pace and I had a really, really good time.

Even more, I got out and had a decent workout. And after two days of not working out, I soooooo needed that.

So, there you go. My first ride with the boys and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Yay! Maybe next year, I should try this earlier in the season — imagine how much stronger I could get if I did!

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Went to bed on Saturday night at 10pm.

Got up after 8am on Sunday.

Made it to Prescott for 76+ miles of hill riding by 10 am.

Lunch at a bar in Stockholm. Beer was consumed by one. Diet Coke by another.

Back at the car at 3:40 pm. Avg. pace: 16.6 mph. Time spent actually riding: 4:19:00. Cows spotted: just enough (and I said hi! to them all).

Dinner consisted of shrimp, fresh corn, turkey kielbasa, Yukon golds, homemade tarter sauce, B-wood garlic bread, Sauvignon Blanc.

Nick Drake on the stereo.

Sleep will come soon.

My leg doesn’t hurt.

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My book club

is celebrating it’s 6 year anniversary (man, I can’t believe I’ve lived up here that long)

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and, in honor of the occasion, we’re getting together for dive-y Italian dinner tomorrow night and everyone is compiling their Top Ten Favorite Books to share with the group. The picks don’t have to be book club picks (although we’ve had our fair share of good ones). They just have to be what we love. No rules — simply THE BEST. And just 10.

So, when I created mine, I struggled a bit. It seems so finite to distill all my favorite literature down to a mere 10 novels. And while I know I probably should have more “classics” on here — the truth is, these are the books that I’ve loved, adored, dreamt about, obsessed over and have ultimately recommended on countless occassions to loads of acquaintences.

Although, I can’t help but fear that I’ve left something out…

And I was also shocked that it took me until #7 to get to a female author. (What kind of feminist am I?)

With that said, I’m going to share my list.

Heather’s Top Ten Favorite Books of ALL TIME.

[please don't judge me harshly...]

1. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides
2. Into Thin Air, John Krakauer
3. In Cold Blood, Truman Capote
4. East of Eden, John Steinbeck
5. Brave New World, Aldus Huxley
6. High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
7. The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood
8. Song of Solomon, Tony Morrison
9. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling
10. The Stand, Steven King

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So, I signed up for the new Monthly Pass. I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was inspired by both Nicole

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and Erin Dead Birds trailer to do so. And while I’m psyched about the cheaper weekly rate and the access to the online tools (thank you, WW, for letting us meeting goers access the tools), I had a sad reminder yesterday as I logged in my weight (which, yes, is up) into the little admin. The reminder? A sad face.

Nothing like that to remind you that you’ve taken a step back. And, golly gee, it’s not like I’ve gained a lot of weight! Just a couple of pounds over the summer….

But man, he made me feel like crap. Even with Ms. Eleanor’s quote right beside him.

Apparently, I have work to do.

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So, after feeling like a rockstar last weekend and getting all excited about this fall’s marathon and how my training has been shaping up, today was excrutiatingly painful — both physically and mentally. After ages without pain (and never, really without injury — just some nagging hip problems in February), I had my first ever REALLY BAD run. So bad that I had to be rescued. So bad that it hurt so badly to run that I had to stop and walk numerous times — and even walking hurt.

Basically, everything was good until mile 11 when a slightly stiff left leg turned into a painful knee/quad/back of the leg issue that was so painful, I stopped to walk and, as soon as I did that, the muscle (or tendon or WHATEVER it is) ceased up even more and just bending my left leg to walk hurt. I was six miles from home. I didn’t have a cell phone and suddenly I’m wondering WTF am I going to do?? I pretty much walked a mile. It felt like things were loosening a bit and I wondered if lack of sodium or some dehydration was to blame. Granted, I was on my second bottle of sports drink and I’d downed a Clif shot — but perhap’s last night’s wine combined with not a lot of water drunk during the week was coming back to haunt me? At mile 12, I went to the SuperAmerica that I use as my regular fueling stop. I got some water, I went to the bathroom. I downed a Hammer Gel and my leg was feeling okay. “I can do this,” I thought. But as soon as I started walking back to the trail, the pain returned. It hurt to bend my leg to walk. WTF??!! Once on the trail, I forced myself to run. The first few steps of running were so painful it brought tears to my eyes. Then, the pain lessened a bit — but not a lot. I tried to plod through it. But as soon as I started up an incline, the pain worsened and I was forced to walk again. At this point, I was scared. I was still 4.5 miles for home. There were no more gas stations or pay phones in sight. James thought I’d be home by 11 am (based on my 10:30-10:45/mile target pace). And here I was walking. The day was lovely, but I was in pain. I sulked this way for a while. I’d start to run from time to time, but the pain would force me to stop. I started to tear up. I was frustrated. Passerbys would wave and say hi (it was a lovely day) and I gritted my teeth and tried to smile in return. But all I could thing was, WTF? Why is this happening? And how the hell am I going to walk the remaining 3.5 miles home??!!

By a strange stroke of luck, James came down the Gateway on his bike on his return trip from his workout. He came upon me smiling but soon knew something was wrong. “I need help. My leg has cramped up. I need a ride home,” was about all I could get out before I started crying. Fear, frustration — it all came out. He said he’d ride fast ahead and meet me at Richard’s grocery story — approx. 2.5 miles from home and one mile from where I was. I hobbled to Richard’s. I sat down in the grass trying to stretch out my stupid leg. Soon enough, James returned in the car. My angel.

We got home. I elevated my leg. I put ice on it and I googled my symptoms. It sounds like IT band stuff — the outside of my knee starting in the upper leg towards the hip. That’s an overuse injury. The remedy is rest.

So, there. Bah. My training is going to have to be adjusted. I want to run this fall Marathon. But I want to stay healthy as well and take care of myself. I have too many friends with injuries not to understand the damage that can be done by ignoring symptoms.

All day, I’ve been thinking about this run and what happened and why now — especially after all my earlier marathon training. I did that injury free… And the one big difference between now and then is that I was weight training pretty regularly in the spring. I haven’t been recently. Perhaps this is weakened leg is a result of less strength combined with increased mileage both running and biking. Who knows..

What I do know is that I need to rest. I need to switch up the training and I need to heal.

And with all that said, I’m supposed to go ride hills with Sascha in the morning. 76 miles. AND big hills.

So, I need advice. Should I go? Or is my injury too recent? I don’t want to make things worse. But I don’t want to miss an excellent day of riding big hills either? Anyone? Anyone?

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“Can’t you just take one day off?”

That’s what my friend Addie said to me last night over a caprese salad and dinner of grilled corn, chix brats from Whole Foods and a spectacular salt & vinegar potato salad.

We were discussing the farmer’s market. She invited us to join her in the morning and I said I couldn’t because I wanted to go on a bike ride.

“You did a triathlon today! Can’t you rest?”

That’s what she said. And she was right. I do need rest.

The truth is, I haven’t been to the farmer’s market all season long — which is really pathetic because I LOVE THE FARMERS MARKET. Luckily we belong to a CSA and have had access to fresh produce. But, honestly, not setting foot on the St. Paul Farmer’s Market block until there are tomatoes in season is pathetic. It’s uncharacteristic of me. And it’s wrong.

But even with that said, I still wasn’t on board to hit the farmer’s market until I rolled awake at 8am this morning and asked James about the bike ride.

“I just don’t feel like biking today,” he said.

And that was it. Day off. No bike out of the garage.

For both of us.

We went to the Farmer’s market with Addie. We did errands that included shopping for toothpaste and antacid s, shower soap, books and Kenneth Cole macramae wedges. James has cooked. I have cooked. The dogs got special bison bones to chew on. Smoked white fish and martinis were consumed.

And then there’s dinner which is about the grace the table: chicken/cherry/pecan salad on greens, fried green tomatoes, Pink wine.

Some days you have to slow down. And you have to let your obsessions get ignored so that you can remember what other things you like to do.

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I love him.

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Well, ladies and gentlemen, I had a very good race yesterday. And while I know I’ve been all doom and gloom (And Jessie, you’re so correct, I’ve totally had a number of PRs this year so I shouldn’t whine too much about what a *bad* year it’s been), the truth is — even though I haven’t trained as much as I’d like to this year, I have improved. And I had a great race.

For the 2006 Turtleman Olympic (1.5k swim, 37k bike, 10k run) Race below are my stats:

404 out of 743 total participans
17 out of 50 in the women’s 30-34 age group

Swim: 32:50, 2:01/100 yds, rank: 489
T1: 2:05
Bike: 1:00:45, 21.7/mph, rank: 236
T2: 1:36
Run: 54:58, 8:51/mile, rank: 511
Total time: 2:32:12

All in all, a great race. I hit every goal that I set. I biked my ass off and passed tons of boys (always fun!) while dealing with a killer headwind and still averaging almost 22 mph on the bike. My goal was to run a 9 minute mile and I ended up sub-that (although, just barely). And the swim was good — even though I did have to duke it out with a number of aggressive boys in my wave. I can safely say now that I’ve been knocked, grabbed, yelled at and smacked my fair share in the swim. And while I could let that get me down, I’ll take it as a compliment. The fact that I’m swimming an entire course “with the pack” says something — even if it means I’m beat up a bit.

And while for posterity’s sake I’d like to document an entire race report, I just don’t have the energy. It was a race. It was good. I had fun. That’s really it. Things to note are:
- Riding your bike in Transition is fun when it’s allowed
- I thought my swimming had improved immensely until I see that I actually swam 2:06/100 yds at this race last year and I swam 2:01/100 yds — oh, well
- My bike rocked. I love the bike. I kick ass on the bike. As Bolder

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- Racing with friends is way more fun than racing solo
- I didn’t win my bike at the give-away — but I WILL next year (right Marjie?)
- Turtleman rocked out my Tri season — even if it wasn’t the season I’d planned on
- Next year, watch out. 16th in my age group this year — but I’ve got my eye’s set on top ten next!

Can you believe it? In two weeks, I’ve crashed my bike TWICE. That’s like 400% more times than in the past 3 years. And the silly thing has been that it’s weird shit. It’s not even real road (serious-hardcore) crashing.

No, the first time is the race report that I have yet to write for ya’ll (and god knows if I ever will considering I’ve yet to even finish my Danskin recap)

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Then, on Tuesday night, I crashed again during the women’s ride!?! How crazy is that? The nice, calm women’s ride. Now James needs to look at my derailer (for I do have a triathon on Saturday) and I have more bruises (including a doozey on my knee) and a bit of scraped up hand. Then there is my sore foot arch. I’m trying to ignore it and pretend it won’t affect my run on Saturday, but who knows…

The thing is, the ride on Tuesday was fun and it was going well. At the beginning, I was riding at the front with a few of the faster girls. Since our A ride decided to do skill work, some of the fasties stayed on the B ride and we were playing at the front — pushing it up the hills and sprinting at little intervals. Finally, the point was made (and rightly so) that we were breaking up the ride and we needed to slow down. At that point, I dropped towards the back to ride with some of the girls back there. We had a new girl with us. She was having a tough time. She’d been anaerobic for an hour and a half and I noticed her cadence was out of control and wicked fast. She is also new to road biking so I started chatting with her about cadence and how she should aim for between 75 and 90 revolutions/minute and she was clearly doing 110-120 — no wonder she was tired. I coached her on gearing up and we went through a lot of the basics that had to be taught to me when I first started. And as we were nearing the end of the ride, there’s a turn with some gravel and she just lost it. I’m sure her fatiguehad cut into her reaction time and she couldn’t handle the slip. She went down right in front of me. I tried to stop in time, but I couldn’t. I rode right into her on the ground and then fell on top!

It was scary. Luckily, we weren’t going that fast and no one was hurt. But I felt awful. I fell ON her. And the worst was that after it happened, I couldn’t get OFF of her because my damn foot was stuck in my pedal. I was laying on my side and couldn’t move my ankle in the correct angle to dis-engage. In fact, a fellow cyclist actually had to twist my foot for me — how pathetic is that?

So, that was it. My second fall in two weeks and I’m thankful I’m okay. I’m especially thankful that the other rider is okay and hopefully she isn’t scarred from riding. It really *does* get easier — I tried to tell her that.

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That’s about all I have, folks. I’ve been working like mad. I have an awesome, awesome husband who’s been cooking and cleaning like a fiend while I’m at work, on the computer, commuting, whatever. I feel guilty. I know I’m lucky, too. Tonight he actually cleaned the bathroom AND made this awesome alfredo/spinach pasta thing that totally rocked.

+ + + +

It’s hard for me to believe it, but I actually have a triathlon on Saturday. It’s Turtleman. It’s Olympic. And now that I’ve dropped out of the half-IM, it’s officially my longest tri of the season. It feels a little anti-climactic — but it’s no surprise that this season is all f-ed up for me and not exactly my best racing year. So, I’ll take whatever time I get. I’ve been strong on the bike and I think my swim will be decent (I have been training in open water, after all). It’s the run I’m not that jazzed about. That and the fact that I still have yet to lose the extra weight I put on over the winter and spring. Blech.

After Saturday, that’s it for my tri season until next year (when I’ll actually DO a half IM). I am training for a marathon in October, though. And my buddy Jen seems to think that racing the 100 miles in Park Rapids instead of doing the “ride” would be a good idea. I’ve never done a bike race in my life — would it be smart to start with a hundred-miler? Hmm…

Other than that, the rest of our summer is booked. My mom is coming up to do the Three-Day next weekend. We’re traveling to Texas another weekend. We’re also heading to Green Bay for a wedding as well. And we’d like to camp at some point. It’s sad to see how few weekends actually remain. This is when I start to get a little sad about Minnesota weather.

Okay. It’s bedtime. I need to rest up for Saturday no matter how ready I am.

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James is upset that I said I’d spit on that family who had the meercats put down rather than have their nine-year-old tested for rabies. And he’s right. I shouldn’t have said that. It was wrong.

But the story still pisses me off. And I still think the parents are inattentive buttheads. So there.

That said, we watched Eight Below

last night, the movie about the sled dogs that were stranded in Antarctica. And I have to be honest and admit that I bawled my eyes during the entire movie. It was pathetic. Sometimes I wonder why I love animals so much. And all I kept thinking about was what a mess I’ll be when my girls eventually die. God only knows why I think this way sometimes — especially when I’m watching a friggin’ Disney movie — but that’s where I was at and what was seemingly supposed to be a light-hearted movie night turned into a bit of an emotional roller coaster.

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