We Don't Need Roads

Getting back to the Road Scholar theme, if there ever was one. This weekend I have my first official Instrument Flight lesson, with the retired general who considers every flight another day at boot camp. At least he hasn't issued me a helmet with the call name Washout lettered across the brow. Yet. I've been reading the training manual with great enthusiasm. If your day job involved utility regulation, you might find this kind of thing fascinating too. It's so mechanical. It engages a whole different part of my brain. I'm turning into such a gearhead that I had a problem with my car the other day and correctly diagnosed an alternator malfunction. How sexy am I??

Thanksgiving But No Thanks

This Thanksgiving is the first one without my dad. There's plenty I'm thankful for, but I wasn't up for a big family thing. Instead of eating I flew to Wisconsin through a gray haze and came back into a red radiant sunset. There's snow on the ground up there already. We threw some snowballs, drank hot chocolate, admired the ski runs from the air. It's a cold season and I'm cold all the way through. The photo has nothing to do with the Thanksgiving flight, it just makes me feel warm. My boy is the greatest.

Not Enough Time

Bu says I don't spend enough time with him. The irony kills me. I don't spend enough time with anyone, particularly myself, but if I spend quality time with anyone, it's him. He gets the best: all the patience and selflessness I can produce in a given 24 hour period while juggling everything else behind my back. Not enough time. If he only knew.

The Princess and the Soccer Ball

I have bruises, little ones from the impact of a soccer ball, an elbow, a toe. Playing indoor soccer is dangerous, especially when it's with a bunch of hyper-competitive middle-aged men, several of whom are twice my size and have forgotten that shoving other players into the bleachers to get the ball would get them a red card if we had a ref. It just gets me going. It reminds me of playing with the boys as a little girl when we had a bitter German former pro player as a coach. Before games he'd gather us in and mutter through tobacco-stained teeth, "If you can't win, at least you can hurt them."

There were only a few girls in the league and they tended to drop out as years passed and the boys got bigger and started to run over us. But our coach taught us well. I learned how to get the team bully between me and the ref, sucker punch him where the welt wouldn't show and steal the ball. The girls on my team were the only ones who kept playing until we aged out of the league at 12, because our sociopath coach taught us to fight. He thought we had a right to be on the field.

Friday Fill-in-the-Blank Meme

Because I can't write any more testimony about energy efficiency until I rest my brain.

1. My blueprint for success includes swallowing my pride and begging everyone for help.
2. Ghirardelli Twilight Delight 72% Cacao was the last candy I ate.
3. The best facial moisturizer I've ever used is C the Change from Kiss My Face.
4. Sex can be good therapy.
5. I'd like to tell you about the evil plan for the next bad idea adventure.
6. Cussed determination is my strongest characteristic.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to the Lincoln Cafe, tomorrow my plans include painting the house so I can sell it and Sunday, I want to go see Vance Gilbert!

Flyover Land

Photos from an epic trip to Montana to get sworn into the state bar. Modes of transportation included a 1981 Toyota Celica, a Cessna 172, a Dodge sedan, a Cessna 172RG, a Toyota Camry, an old Dodge pickup, a Honda Civic hybrid, and a Dodge Caravan. The other people in the pictures are Josh Foersch, who used to be my flight instructor and now just gets dragged along on manic cross-country flights and deer-feeding outings, and Eldena Bear Don't Walk, who put in a cameo appearance moving my admission to the bar of the Supreme Court of Montana. Aside from them, I'd like to thank the Academy.

Lignite

Crazy but true. Here's how it went down. Back in 1995, Minnesota passed a law assigning a cost to carbon for purposes of utility planning (go Minnesota!). North Dakota, which sells a lot of coal-fired power to Minnesota, got worried that this law would hurt its in-state lignite coal industry. The western half of North Dakota sits on a giant bed of lignite, a very low-grade coal also referred to as North Dakota mud because when they strip mine it the product looks a lot more like dirt than coal. You have to burn a lot of it to get the same energy value as richer coal, which in turn releases a lot of carbon dioxide.

The lignite industry - which receives major subsidies from the State of North Dakota - argued to the legislature that attaching a cost to carbon would put lignite at an economic disadvantage to wind power. They produced charts comparing lignite to wind, with and without carbon regulation. Now you might think that the Minnesota law presented a fabulous opportunity to North Dakota to build up its wind industry, because North Dakota has some of the best wind in the country and could produce mass quantities of cheap, carbon-free electricity for the power-hungry Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

But no. Instead, the visionary North Dakota legislature passed a law (NDCC 49-02-23 if you're interested) banning the state Public Service Commission from considering any environmental externalities, including the anticipated cost of any future environmental laws or regulations, in making planning decisions about new electrical generation. Our humble challenge now is to drag North Dakota kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.

Bismarck Ho!

I don't mean that in the Don Imus way.

I'm needed in Bismarck, ND, to argue a motion before an Administrative Law Judge on whether my client, Dakota Resource Council, can bring evidence about the future economic cost of carbon regulation in a proceeding for siting a new coal-fired power plant. It might seem like an obvious thing to consider, but the North Dakota legislature has taken care of that. They passed a law barring regulators from considering the anticipated cost of future environmental laws or regulations. We have to try to convince an elected judge in lignite coal country that the law doesn't apply to our particular proceeding. Which saint do I pray to?

Powerless

We had a doozy of a storm over the weekend. First freezing rain, then horizontal snow, followed by more freezing rain and snow until the tree branches hung down to the ground with the weight of ice, and so did the transmission lines. Around 2:30 on Saturday afternoon we lost power. Often losing power is a delight: the candles, the quiet, the neighbors talking to each other because there's nothing else to do. It was that way all afternoon and through the evening, when we had cheese, crackers, fruit and wine for dinner because our stove is electric. It was that way through the night as the temperature dropped and we slept cozily under down comforters.

Come Sunday morning, the whole adventure began to lose its charm. We have a gas furnace, but the blower is electric, so the temp had dropped to below 55 degrees. We ate breakfast with a neighbor who has a gas range and spent a large part of the day shoveling to keep warm. The major crisis of the morning was averted when we discovered that we could use our hand-cranked nut grinder to grind coffee beans. The fire station and city hall were running off the same generator, but the rest of us fell back on fireplaces, flashlights, candles, and one guy's crank-powered TV. The estimates were anywhere from 24 hours to a week without power, with temperatures in the 20s and 30s (that's hovering around zero to you celsius types).

The grocery store in town was closed, but we heard that the one on the near side of Cedar Rapids was running on generators, so we piled in the AWD Subaru and headed out. The store was full of farmer types who look like they don't come to town much, filling carts with huge water bottles and propane. We hatched a scheme to haul the Weber grill up onto the back porch, boil water on the Coleman stove, and rely on down sleeping bags and the gas water heater for warmth until our connection to the nuke plant could be restored. Luckily the juice came back a little after 5 on Sunday evening. I reckon we saved at least $10 on power, but we spent over $200 at the grocery store, so no net gain. It's good to be warm again!

To those who are hungry,

give bread.
To those who have bread,
give the hunger for justice.

Because you can't get to the hunger for justice, until your stomach is full.

Flat snow

I grew up on vertical snow, slanty at least, the kind you could slide down on skinny sticks, jumping off the bumps, flying through the trees, screaming as you went waaaaay too fast until the thrill of speed overcame the fear of death. A few days ago we got the first snow of the year here in Iowa. Of course the first thing I did was head over to the sledding hill to help the kiddies get started constructing a terrain park for their sleds and snowboards. Not half an hour later a guy in an orange truck from the city pulled up to tell us to knock down our most excellent little jump, because someone would fly off it and crack their head open.

Will they take away my Mom Card if I admit that what ran through my head was, "Oooo yeah, cool...."? You're not really having fun until somebody has a concussion.

My friend met David Lynch

Maybe you're like me and wouldn't recognize David Lynch if he danced down a dark alley at you in an eerie pink glow surrounded by a troupe of dancing dwarves. If so, you are not like my friend Joan, who thinks he's one of the all-time geniuses, uses a photo of him for her computer wallpaper, and wishes her husband would grow old to look like him. Now that Joan has forced me to look at photos of David Lynch, I think he looks sort of like Eraserhead and don't really get the obsession. But then I have my own thing about Hendrik Hertzberg (the images come up side by side in my browser - you'll have to guess which is which), so I won't throw stones.

So Joan was going into the local natural foods hippie co-op and whom should she run into but Eraserhead himself. I shit you not. Joan, being Joan, screamed "YOU'RE DAVID LYNCH!!" and jumped up and down. I would have at least tried to play it cool. He could have had scary California bodyguards or an attack dog or something. But David Lynch was not at all intimidated. He gave her an autograph and posed for camera phone photos while other shoppers looked on, wondering who the hell he was. This preternatural calm is probably the result of Transcendental Meditation, which is what brings Lynch to Iowa. He goes to see the gurus at Maharishi International in Fairfield. If only Hendrik were into TM.

For Porter

In honor of my most loyal reader, a new post.

2007 brings with it a new nonprofit organization, Plains Justice, conceived in hope and consternation, and dedicated to the proposition that the people and places of the Northern Plains deserve better environmental justice than they have been getting. We've got funding, a great board, and a lot of work to do. Back at it.

Baby We Are Back!

The woman in black has changed her clothes. Last night I watched Democratic candidates for whom I have volunteered, given money, written issue papers, and prayed, take House and Governor seats, win back the state legislature, and show the whole world that this country has both a heart and a head after all. I watched a woman from the most liberal district in the country become the next Speaker of the House. No more black today, baby.

Evacuation of Lebanon

I find the photos of people evacuating Lebanon terribly moving. Part of it is the rush to abandon everything to preserve their lives, and part of it is this phenomenon of the industrialized world exerting its wealth to protect its own. We won't send troops - we won't stop the bombardment - but we'll send cruise ships to extract everyone with an American, Canadian, French, German, Swedish, Danish, Turkish, Australian, etc., passport. If you come from a country that can't afford or can't get organized to charter the Orient Queen, you are SOL. Or if you are just Lebanese, not hyphenated Lebanese. Or unable to travel. There is a feeling you get when you find yourself in danger in some distant part of the world, holding a first world passport, speaking a few first world languages fluently, living in white skin. You feel a fierce greed for these talismans. They are the signs that you are worth saving. I've tried to get my head around what it must be like not to bear the signs, but I find that I can't. They're too embedded into who I think I am. I find it impossible to think of myself as not worth saving. Maybe the Lebanese find it impossible too.

Quittin time

Thank. God. I have finally gotten a firm leaving date at work and I'll be free as of August 11. It's been 13 months of the most depressive experience I hope to have in my life. Whatever else is out there for me, it's got to be better than this. I have an adjunct teaching job. I have a couple of book proposals to shop around. I have increasingly good prospects of opening my own public interest environmental law office. Any one of those is great news. Let's put on some happy music and celebrate being alive with a lot of good years left on the engine.

Qui perd sa langue...

There's an article in the New York Times today about a cultural renaissance for Franco-Americans in Maine. What a long-overdue development. My great grandfather, Horace, born in Terrebonne, Minnesota in the 1880s, was the last francophone generation of our family. I bear his unspellable (to Anglos) last name. Horace refused to speak French to the children and grandchildren, and several of his sons changed the spelling of their name to make it easier for Anglos (who still can't spell or pronounce it). Somehow, though, he managed to transmit his enduring pride in being French, always French, no matter how distant the bloodline that led back to Normandie.

Some fond recollection of Horace must have led me to study French and pursue the language of my ancestors until I could fool French Canadians into thinking I'm French, or French into thinking I'm French Canadian - although I can never seem to fool the natives into thinking I'm one of them. And I'm not. I'm Franco-American, and so is my son. I speak French to him at home, and as he goes out into the world and sees how wholly Anglo it is here, he answers my French in English more and more. It's a second loss. I search daily for ways to prevent it, to dig in for the long haul and make French a necessary part of my son's life. No one actively punishes him for speaking French outside our home, but there are so few francophones to respond to his elegant, childlike phrases, more francophone than anything I can do because they're the instinctive efforts of a native speaker. He never learned French, he is francophone. It is his mother tongue. I'm absurdly, fiercely proud of this recovered heritage we share.

I have been Australian

Outside the Melbourne Tennis Centre at the tram stop, packed tight among half-drunk Aussies who’d just poured out of a late Australian doubles win at the Australian Open, I heard the chant begin. Someone on our platform shouted out “Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!”, and from the opposite platform the crowd took up the reply: “Oy! Oy! Oy!” Encouraged, the whole of our platform roared back “AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!”, and we were off, belly laughing, our heads thrown back for better projection, screaming the words, our identity, our sea-girt selves, as if we’d all been in the sunburnt country a thousand years, rooted like the eucalypts. The platform trembled and we stamped harder, a pack, a people. I was Australian then.

Triathlon Redux

For those of you tuning in from the triathlon side of the world, here is the state of my training program:

My next tri - a sprint - is coming up the first week in June. I've done this one twice before and placed in my age group last year. Right now I'm riding my bike a lot back and forth from work. It takes about an hour each way and means I fill up my gas tank much less frequently. Sometimes I swim, about once a week right now. I swam diligently throughout the winter and have had about enough of very early mornings and chilly chlorinated water, thank you. Sometimes I run, mostly around the neighborhood and not very fast. Increasingly I just walk the dog. She's happy, I'm happy, and really, who the hell cares?

The 13 Year Itch

My son will graduate from high school in 13 years. That's how long I reckon I have to wait to have a life again. I'm stuck for the interim in Buttfuck, U.S.A., unable to practice my chosen profession and suffering rejection after rejection as I try to get myself out of here. My husband doesn't want to leave. He wants to kick back, enjoy the small town life, drink strong coffee and grow his belly. I think I need some strong medication that will allow me to wake up long enough to be a happy Mommy while Jr. is around and otherwise permit a Van Winkle like nap until I'm 47 and can rejoin the living.

Walk up to my house

You'll notice the magnolia first, blooming ardently this year, making up for lost time and the single earnest bud it gave the first year with us. The maple, dotted in maiden green, feeling the springtime lightness of buds before the baroque leaves come down. Snowdrops. The beginnings of all the varieties of lilies: tiger, plantain, day. Chives and garlic grass run perfectly wild across the lawn. Rhododendron - buried to its neck in winter - now showing improbable brilliant pink.

And then the garden beds. The lowly onion sets, brave against the danger of late frost, waving over new-raked earth. The immortal rhubarb. The compost: our dead come alive again. And there are secrets too: seeds cast, a black promise under black earth, known only to the gardener. Wapsipinicon heirloom peach tomatoes. Potted basil under glass. Lavender. Cosmos. Red milkweed. Echinacea. The waiting. The watch we keep. All part of the ritual of the season that has come.

Obnoxious

Sometimes I worry that I'm obnoxious. Then I think, naaaaaah.

There's such a distance between what one person says and thinks and what another sees. We might as well be sending up smoke signals for all the actual communication that takes place, one humanoid to another.

The Nightmare

You can have a dream sometimes that doesn't register as a nightmare until you look back at it and realize what was happening. In my nightmare last night, my husband had to go into a closed ceremonial chamber to bargain with two big fat black demons (more on my sublimated racism in a later post). When he came out, my son and I were ushered beyond the chamber into the public areas of a big old hotel full of people who looked like they'd been there a while. They were watching sports on TV. I couldn't see the television, but there was that half-subliminal buzz of commentators and cheers. Others were playing foosball or sitting on shabby furniture, smoking. I knew my husband was there somewhere with us, but for most of the dream I stood there holding my son's hand and asking people who passed by if there was any way out.

The windows were covered by giant shutters. All the light was artificial. A short, thin woman who seemed to be running things stood by me for a while and discussed the history of the demon occupation. She wasn't old and she wore a pretty dress, but there was something not present about her. Everyone seemed that way, like maybe they were undead but didn't know what to do about it. She said that in earlier days they'd tried to sell the hotel, because then of course the new owners would evict the demons and the residents and everyone would be free. Somehow no buyers took an interest in evicting two big fat black demons and legions of foosball-playing undead. They remained hopeful though. In a tight real estate market anything might happen.

That's all I remember. My husband thinks the hotel is Iowa.

I make more than my husband

Not twice as much, but enough that it's noticeable on the monthly receipts. I get better benefits. I wear suits and hand out business cards. My husband wears pretty much whatever he wants and spends more time with our son than I do. My husband loves his job. On a good day, I don't hate mine. This seems precisely the reverse of the usual pattern. And while I don't love my job, I do like being the primary breadwinner. I like the power of it, the affirmation of my worth. I need to make a career change to something that gives me more satisfaction, I know that. But if my salary drops, I also know that I'll miss this feeling.

Bread and Roses

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.

Contemporary romance in the sticks

I've been reading several other posts talking about how smart young men really are interested in smart young women, and that's all grand in the urban areas where it's true. Out here in the sticks, though, sisters, it's not the same game. I'm a lawyer, and the young male lawyers my age (early 30s) are almost universally marrying down, either economically or socially and economically. Of the professional men who come to mind who've married in the last year or two, here are the stats:

Groom: Ph.D. Candidate
Bride: Hairdresser and volleyball coach

Groom: Lawyer
Bride: Hairdresser

Groom: Lawyer
Bride: First-grade teacher (quit within 6 months upon getting pregnant)

Groom: Banker
Bride: Student (working on grade school teaching certification)

Groom: Lawyer
Bride: Physical therapist

I wouldn't count out Maureen Dowd's hypothesis: it stands up pretty well out here in flyover land.

A season in hell

A qui me louer? Quelle bête faut-il adorer? Quelle sainte image attaque-t-on? Quels coeurs briserai-je? Quel mensonge dois-je tenir? - Dans quel sang marcher?

- Rimbaud, Une saison en enfer

To whom shall I rent myself? What beast must be worshipped? What holy image attacked? What hearts will I break? What lie must I maintain? In what blood walk?

Can any artist really tell the truth

about her own people? Isn't it the ultimate betrayal?

her house

She lives at the end of a cul-de-sac in a middle-aged part of town, houses from the 60s and 70s with irregular lot lines and wide siding. Kids play hockey year round in the quiet street, rolling the net out of the way when a car comes through, then starting up with the shout of "Game on!" The neighbors consist of young families that have bought into the low-priced real estate and couples or singles near retirement who will sell out soon for a smaller space or a warmer climate or both. Little happens in the front yards other than mowing. The back yards come together in a patchwork of fences, lawn maintenance problems, incongruous home improvements and a higher than average incidence of dog shit per square mile. The dogs are the large breeds that their owners enjoyed as farm children: German shepherds, Labradors, golden retrievers. They're too big for this suburban setting and prowl the fencelines, barking in voices that whine up at the end, pleading rather than menacing.

The house itself has been the same color for forty years because it's brown and the extra coats to turn it a lighter color would cost too much. The trim is yellow. There's something edible and confectionery-like about the color scheme, but combined with the dated architecture the colors only evoke faded magazines and women in puffy skirts with glossy smiles.

The garage, in which a previous owner hung himself, faces onto the street. Small trees, mountain ashes and Russian olives and pines, have been growing around the house for years but never achieved much stature. Although it's a two car garage there is nearly always a third car parked in the driveway. Over the years that car has metamorphosed from an early model Volvo with no shine left, through a rusting Honda hatchback, an Oldsmobile Cutlass, and a Ford Escort. The family prides itself on extracting the maximum utility out of mechanical objects, cars particularly, and an old car is more likely fixable than a new one with all its expensive gadgetry.

Mad

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'" - Jack Kerouac, On the Road

The good news is, I'm mad. The bad news is, this is a hell of a way to live.

Toltecs

You know who the Toltecs were? They ruled in ancient Mexico. They were legendary builders, metalworkers and artists. The Toltecs intimately understood the movements of the planets and incorporated solar elements into their architecture. They had rulers with names like Cloud Serpent and warrior clans with names like Jaguar and Eagle. You can still go down there and see what we figure are their temples, kind of like someone in a thousand years going to see Hoover Dam and saying "Now what the hell?!" Even what was left behind after the fall of their civilization is so impressive that the saying "work like a Toltec" has survived to this day.

At 5:42 a.m., while I am pulling through the last gut-heaving minutes of a head-racing piece in a bow-coxed four down on the not-so-sanitary Sanitary and Ship Canal on the Chicago River, I gain that last ounce of strength by imagining that I am a Toltec.

We've been winning gold medals at every regatta this fall.

Tacking

I'm working with a strong wind to starboard, tacking to gain ground. Even when I sit still the movement is too much for me. I need more: time, rest, space. The stolen hours are never enough. I miss Australia, the sunburnt country, and I want time to stop. The future is imminent: the work I've worked to have, the home I've waited to find, all of it so big and real that I want to throw up a billowing spinnaker against the brilliance of the light.

Triathlons are over for this summer. It will be rowing now, back in skinny boats with long oars and that spectacular sensation of flight when the keel stands balanced and runs out beneath you while your wake runs on in rivers. Let it run, they say. Soft hands. Breathe. It is meditation. It is God come down.

winding down

Today is my last day at the current firm. No triathlons are scheduled for the immediate future because we're flying off tomorrow for several weeks in Japan and Australia, visiting old friends. I may do a few late-season races when we get back, but the training is on the back burner at the moment.

In very good news, I got an MRI and MRA to see if there's any abnormality in my brain that's causing the bad headaches I get when I swim hard. You guessed it: they examined my head and found nothing. There's a history of stroke and brain aneurysm in my family, so I bolt to the nearest neurologist when I get a pain in my head. Luckily this time it's just a headache, nothing more. The MRI machine is the closest to a medieval torture device I ever hope to get. They stuck me up to my waist in it for 25 minutes and I imagined I was surfing - it made sense with all the vibration and noise. I rode the waves at Torquay and JanJuc the whole time, bobbing in that infinite, dark southern ocean, so far away nothing could touch me. It would have been too scary otherwise.

a few more workouts

Nice swim workout the other night, a good bike ride this morning with Andy and Bu as part of RAGBRAI, the (Des Moines) Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. We did maybe 25 miles on the old, unsexy hybrids with Bu on his tagalong behind my bike. He wore his US Postal jersey and had a fabulous time. Toward the end he got tired and it started to rain, but he's only three. He can go the distance in years to come.

And in other news, I won a full dismissal on the very first real-life motion for summary judgment I ever wrote.

vertical

Yesterday Andy and I went rock climbing outdoors for the first time.  We'd tried climbing walls before, but this was the first actual rock.  We went to Pictured Rocks park where you can climb limestone cliffs along the Maquoketa River.  A couple of local gurus (I keep discovering them) took us out.  One of them has come within 1500m of the summit of Everest, so I think he qualifies as a knowledgeable climber.  He also has the body fat of a gnat and scrambled up the cliffs like he was time trialing.  Andy and I did okay.  We made it to the top, or nearly, of several climbs, but today I don't think either of us could carry groceries to the car.  It was a blast.  By the end I felt like I was really getting it and trying things I wouldn't have dared before. 

In winter, they say, we can climb frozen waterfalls.  It ain't skiing, but maybe I could get into this!

fast wheels

Yesterday, while over in France they were time trialing, I went out for a nice hard 40 miler with the local cycling guru Nor.  He rode a frame he got on Ebay that was actually ridden in the Tour back in the 70s, from a now-defunct Austrian manufacturer named Puch.  I was on Ananda as usual, my Terry Symmetry, which is a great training bike but has begun to hold me back in races.  It's a little heavy for my purposes, and the components are Shimano Tiagra - bottom-of-the-line and very poorly reviewed.  They're already giving me trouble, and I clean and tune my bike (like the aforementioned unhappy reviewer) after every use.  I also put in way more weekly miles, and harder, than the average recreational rider. 

I can keep up with Nor, but it's more work than it should be.  He's talking about building up a carbon fiber racing bike for me from the infinite selection of parts in his basement, and I'm doing everything I can to encourage the idea.  I'm also stalking Ebay for a real tri bike in my size.  With the right bike, I think I really could be leading the bike leg every race.  A few sites I've read suggest the Cervelo P2k as the quintessential tri bike, and now that there are some newer models out maybe some will come available.  Luckily I'm utterly average as a triathlete in height and weight.  Fingers crossed that I stumble across one I can afford. 

Let 'er buck

That's what I say in the bike leg in a race, when I'm pulling up on someone or someone's trying to overtake me.  I lean over my bike like the cowboy in Hidalgo and say, "Okay little sister, let 'er buck," and we take off.  It's also evocative of my high school tennis coach, who had lots of inspirational and bizarre sayings, including 'let 'er buck', 'hey little girl, want some candy?', 'have some fun hitting some tennis balls', 'when E.F. Lyon talks, you better listen', and my personal favorite, "I want to hear you say, you painted a Rembrandt sir."

This morning was a run, a great run, fueled by extra adrenalin whenever the blackbirds and jays buzzed me, through an ethereal ground-effect fog on corn-lined gravel roads in a sweat-bathed dawn.  Had to stop for trains going out and coming back, but I was fast and light and my feet hardly touched the dirt.  The sun broke over the soybeans as I headed back into town, immense in the thick atmosphere, like the sun had cracked and was running yoke-like down through the fields toward the sleeping village.  I ran ahead of it, buoyed up by the haze.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The father is safely in residence at the Iowa Veterans Home, which is by all appearances and reports the nicest place.  What a stroke of good luck that was, that it should be not only massively subsidized by the government but also a place you'd want to be.  I'm afraid we went out to dinner last night to celebrate, which felt odd, considering that in some lights I did just institutionalize a member of my immediate family.  But it's such a relief, and he seemed happy.  I believe they'll take good care of him. 

This morning I finally got to do yoga again, the beefcake dvd naturally, because if you're getting up at 5:30 a.m. to sweat the least you deserve is a little eye candy.  I feel so much better.  I'd forgotten how much it relaxes me.  There may be a few more late-season triathlons, but I'm going to give myself a bit of a break to do whatever I want.  There's also a long vacation to Japan and Australia in the works, so I can get a proper Japanese bath, eat amazing Japanese food three times a day (!), and then go back down under to the unique delights of Melbourne in winter and my absolutely lovely Aussie friends.  I love Australia.  How nice that it exists.

Bu is having issues with his child care provision.  We took him out of preschool for July so that he could just play, go to the pool, ride his bike, roller blade, all that, and we hired a friend's 18-year-old daughter to watch him along with her 9-year-old sister, whom he loves.  It seemed like the perfect arrangement, especially as he was showing a distinct lack of keenness for preschool.  I think what we really accomplished is to teach him that his daily activities are infinitely mutable, and if we wanted we could probably arrange for him to play with his best friend Martin every day.  Now he's holding out for that, creating a huge drama every day when I leave him.  It's absurd - he plays and has a marvelous time all day long according to everyone who interacts with him (and that's lots of people), but he still tries to drive Mama and Papa into frenzies of guilt at drop-off time.  Children.  Can't live with 'em, can't rely on wolves to teach them phonics.

alterna-tri

This morning I raced in the Iowa Games triathlon outside Ogden, Iowa.  I won't be getting splits on the legs or the transitions because they didn't use timing chips, and I don't think my official race time is right (it was over a minute more than what my watch showed at the finish).  But it was still a personal best.  The time I registered was 1:18:30 (theirs was 1:19:39), ten minutes faster than my previous best for a sprint tri.  The bike leg on this one was a mile shorter, but it was still a much faster race.  The swim went great, I was very competitive on the bike leg, and on the run I felt a lot better than I have lately while running.  Maybe eventually I'll find out my rank, maybe I won't, I'm not too worried.  We took off right afterward to get showers at the hotel and go see Dad at the VA.  It was a great race.
 
And what a funny race it was.  Not a USA Triathlon event, so everything was just a little ... different.  No security around the transition areas, no numbers on the bikes, no PA system, no race bag goodies, no particular anxiety about following the rules, just your basic no-frills swim, bike, run.  The crowd with the tricked out tri bikes, swish wetsuits, etc., was conspicuously absent.  A lot of first-timers, milk jugs for buoys on the swim.  It was all very Iowa and in fact very nice.

oh the humanity

Yesterday was the firm's annual canoe outing. It was all great until I clubbed a partner with my paddle while trying to defend my canoe. That's just gotta qualify as a Career Limiting Decision. I took him to lunch today to make amends. It was a great time, but I'm sore all over from all the tree-climbing, rock-jumping-off, rope-swinging, canoe flipping, beer-drinking fun. Bruised everywhere. I went for a run this morning to shake it off a little. Why can't I run like that in a race? It was effortless, just smooth and fast and gorgeous in the early morning calm.

running wet 

swimahoya!

Finally found the results for the Cornman. They'd posted them at a link on the Pigman site (go figure), so I had to google to find them. My time was 1:28:22 for 121st overall out of 221 competitors, 19 out of 48 women and exactly midpack in my age group. This is a few minutes faster than my Pigman time, plus my overall swim ranking was higher than I ranked for the bike and run! No way, you say? Way! My splits were slower than last time, but I think the course was a little longer because the buoys had blown over to one side. It was hard to go point-to-point along the buoy line. Among the women my bike leg was still my fastest, as usual, but I'm delighted to see the swim coming along. It took long enough. My transitions were fast and I was very consistent from event to event. If I can get just a little bit faster at each one it will make a big difference all around. The humidity is really killing me on the run. My times are way slower than they were down in the dry of Australia. I also need to stop taking water from the volunteers just because I think they're lovely people. It slows me down and gives me a sideache.

Oh and I beat that partner from my firm again. I don't think he's too happy. I wasn't even really racing, just doing it for a workout, not killing myself for time. Don't hate me because I'm (kinda) fast.

the deluge

Cornman Triathlon was yesterday at Union Grove State Park near Marshalltown, Iowa. Next year, I propose, they ought to call it Rainman. Definitely. I still don't have my time or place because shortly after the race finished the rains came down, the main tent nearly blew away, and we all had to run for the nearest cinder block building for protection from the oncoming tornado. Andy got so soaked that we had to go to K-Mart afterward and buy him a $9 shirt so he wouldn't catch pneumonia before we got home.

Anyway, a good race. The swim and cycling went really well, but my running is disappointing lately. I don't seem to be going at the pace I normally do, and when I get done my ribs hurt again. When I finally get the actual splits I'll post them. It's a fairly tasteful t-shirt, black with the logo in white, and we acquired a nice lawn chair that someone abandoned in the storm. Bu played Spiderman Fights Octopus Man and played a lot on the beach. When we got home everyone was so exhausted that we slept until dinner.

getting my exercise

Yeah. I am getting my exercise my dropping middle aged lawyers like a bad habit on the bar association cycling outing. Their bikes cost twice as much as mine. I take that back - they cost twice as much as my car. They have wheels I would kill for. But I'm faster. By the time I think to look around, they're gone behind me over the last rise and I have nothing but open roads and green fields ahead.

Cornman Triathlon is tomorrow. My father's extended tenure in this house has me so depressed I seem to sleep whenever I'm not absolutely required to be awake, working, doing my thing. The workouts are the only time I'm awake and fully present. Some guy on the bar outing was doing the Cornman too. "Cornwoman, I guess we should say. Pigwoman." He laughed. "I prefer beating men at the Cornman, Pigman," I said. "More glory to it."

witch doctors and grim reapers

I woke up this morning half convinced my father was dead, so to snap out of it I went for a nice hard run up and down, up and down the only hill in town. It was this dream I had around four a.m. where a really scary witch doctor came to my house and threatened me with a long stick covered in dirty grave rags. I was scared, but not scared quite the way you would be if the grim reaper had come for you. The witch doctor wasn't there for me, it (male, female, I can't be sure) was there for my father in the next room. It was more like being a spectator at a grim reaping, startling and alarming at first but gradually less so.

The vets home where dad is going says it hasn't even gotten his application from the county, where we filed it over 10 days ago. I'm about ready to check into the Holiday Inn. At the risk of revealing myself as a bad daughter and a horrible person all round, I want to tell the VA people that I don't actually get along with my father, that I'm doing this because there's no one else to do it and I've already earned enough good karma, thank you, they can take him away now (or yesterday). Good God when will this be over?

swim meet

Not mine, unfortunately. I went down to the local pool for my swim last night and there were cars everywhere. Odd, since the pool was supposed to be shut except for lap swim, which an average of 3 people attend. The pool deck was packed with people. I walked in to check it out, and the local swim club was having races. Kind of nice. Kids of all sizes flailing up and down, lots of cheering, loud music, a regular aquatic rodeo scene. Needless to say, lap swim was not taking place.

All suited up with no place to go, I rode my bike home and made dinner. I got a run this morning and felt good, no pain in my ribs, although I think I've lost some fitness in my legs. My knees always ache when I run after a break, before they harden up. There will have to be some long workouts over the long weekend to get ready for the Cornman Triathlon next weekend.

I went to the mountain

This last week I had the workout of the season. In six days I flew to Montana, cleared out my father's entire house, held a garage sale, got all his tangled affairs in something like order, and drove back out to Iowa with him. I slept on the floor. I dealt with constant and mind-boggling family craziness. I prevailed.

It's now Wednesday and we've been back two days, but when I woke up this morning the desire for another workout had not in any way revived. I'll hit the pool tonight and maybe go for a run afterward, if the ribs don't give me any trouble. My whole body is tired and my soul is fatigued.

back to the pool

There's a half hour lap swim at our little local outdoor pool. Seriously, half an hour a day. Obviously no one is training for much of anything. At the end of the half hour they turn up the music and next thing you know small children with water wings are falling from the sky. It's an invitation not to take the workout too seriously, just show up and jump in every day and do your thing as long as they'll let you. A good methodology for lots of things really. I will try to apply it to putting my father in a nursing home, which is the order of the hour. There comes a point for everyone where they turn the music up, you get out and little kids take over. It would bother me less if my father had some uncontrollable, tragic illness rather committing ritual suicide-by-diabetes at the young age of 67.

oh the pain

I tried to run this morning and nothing happened. Well, I jogged painfully for about half a block, turned around, went back to the house, got on my cycling clothes and went riding instead. It's going to put a serious crimp in triathlon training if I can't run.

This afternoon I saw the doctor about the headaches after swimming and the injured ribs. She says to try taking ibuprofen before I swim, because if it's some sort of exertion headache the anti-inflammatory might prevent it. She also got me an appointment with a neurologist (he's booked until August anyway) so that if ibuprofen doesn't help they can give me an MRI, an angiogram, and the general full-on poke-and-prod. Because of my family history of stroke and brain aneurysm she was fairly concerned, but just not the panicky type. I like a doctor who has you try ibuprofen before giving you an MRI. This seems very sane.

About the ribs, nothing can be done but take, yes, more ibuprofen. I really like mountain biking, but I like even better being able to breathe deeply and go for long runs, neither of which I can do now. Grumble grumble grumble. Silver lining: what with headaches and ribs, my cycling is getting better all the time.

mommy!

For my sins, my mother has come to town. Oh, I don't mean it like that. She's really perfectly harmless compared to my father, who has obviously been possessed by the sort of slothful alien who can be trusted never to take over the universe and go landing his spaceship on an aircraft carrier only to leap out in full Top Gun gear to shout in his unearthly tongue, "Mission accomplished!" Oh no, my mother is a more subtle menace. She'll let me get my workouts in, but I will feel guilty about it. I will. I feel guilty already just writing this post. You see how insidious it is?

Bloody marvelous thunderstorms this morning scrubbed the long run planned. Swimming this afternoon unless we see recurrence of aforementioned bloody marvelous thunderstorms.

the sky is full of blue

and full of the mind of God.

owie

My Friday workout consisted of some light weeding in the garden this morning, chased by life-threatening mosquitoes. Tonight I will run around chasing Bu. I think that's about it. My ribs hurt, my knees hurt, I can't lie down on my left side. Maybe some cycling tomorrow morning if it doesn't hurt too much to lean over my handlebars.

endo

A couple of friends from work took me mountain biking for the first time last night on the local trails in the hills around the lake. The trails are marked green, blue and black, like ski runs, and we did mostly greens and blues, then one black to see what it was like. Mostly I was fine and really liked it. However, about two minutes into the whole ride, on the first real downhill, I caught a pedal or something and flew off my bike and down the hill in what was later described as a "total Pete Rose slide". Opened up my knee, scraped up my thighs, hips, elbows, forearms, and did something as yet undetermined to my ribs. It was really lucky I was wearing gloves or my hands would be a mess. So at least I wasn't worried the whole time about taking my first fall. I got that over instantly. It didn't even hurt until I sat down after the ride and stiffened up. We rode for about two and a half hours and had a great time, went for beers afterward. What a crazy sport. Everyone we met along the trail had a more gruesome story about how they'd maimed themselves mountain biking. Clavicle breaks seem very common.

pain in the head

I got my swim last night, but the pain and pressure in my head at the end of a workout isn't going away. It feels like I'm going to pass out or throw up. My goggles are so loose that at one point they actually came off in the water and I had to dive for them. I'm going to try wearing a different swim cap tonight.

In a moment of weakness yesterday I bought Bu a little US Postal team jersey, and now he's in heaven. He wants to bike race everywhere we go, and he says he and Papa are going to do the Tour de France together. When you see the really tall guy on the mountain bike with a little guy on a tagalong behind, trailing way way way behind the pack in the Tour, you'll know it's them. Andy says that Bu pedals so hard he actually pushes the big bike from behind.

the heat begins

Last night was the first night we threw all the windows wide open and still couldn't get enough cool air. It had gotten cool enough by morning to be comfortable, but it will only get worse from here on in. I miss the high, dry country where no matter how oven-like it gets during the day, the land releases the heat at night. I woke up very early and did yoga. I feel a little sore, but strong, planning on doing laps at the outdoor pool tonight. I'm thinking very seriously of signing up for Olympic distance at the Dutchman in Pella on June 26: 1k swim, 40k bike, 10k run.

I went for lunch at Bu's preschool on Friday, and he's been getting lunch sent from home every day since. The major food group of the school lunch was cheese puffs. Fruit & veg consisted of an apple slice. The "main dish" was processed cheese, something balogna-like and butter on a white hot dog bun. It came with whole milk and a vanilla sandwich cookie. The whole thing was repulsive. Bu ate his cheese puffs and apple slice like a normal child but didn't want any part of the nasty sandwich and wasn't even too keen on the cookie. No wonder he's always starving when I pick him up. Today he's armed with a co-jack and mustard sandwich on whole wheat, raisins, almonds, yogurt, carrots and fresh apricots. Would it be over-the-top to get his lunch delivered from the great Indian restaurant up the road? The mother of the Indian boy at preschool says he has allergies and sends all his meals and snacks with him. I now suspect that this is a total fib so that no one thinks it's weird for her to send decent food for him.

first tri of the season

Yesterday was the Pigman Triathlon at Pleasant Creek Recreation Area outside Palo, Iowa. I came in 11th out of 29 in my age group (one of the most competitive apparently) and 243 out of 486 overall with a time of 1:30:36. Dead on middle-of-the-pack, but the pack was mostly men so I don't feel so bad. Actually I feel great. The wetsuit made me much faster, so that my swim didn't really drag down my overall ranking. My bike was the fastest, as always, but my run was slower than usual. I think I was getting overheated by that point. I ran 8:22 splits, which is really slow for me. Afterward I felt completely fine, not even extra hungry. I'm thinking about trying the Dutchman Olympic distance tri in a few weeks, so as to make the sprints seem really easy by comparison!

wake

Took the new wetsuit out to the lake for a trial run last night. It was great. Fit great, felt great, kept me warm, made me faster, all that good stuff. The swimming was a little weird, though. The flooding has made the beach disappear, but the buoy lines are still up, so the water was silty and opaque. Power boats kept buzzing by and setting up wake. The overall effect was a little like swimming in the ocean, but without the icky salt-in-the-mouth. Bottom line: love the wetsuit, should've gotten it sooner. And the Body Glide worked really well. The wetsuit slipped right off, no 5 minute struggle.

The only thing that worries me is that I got a bad headache again from swimming. It's not my goggles, they're very loose. The pain seems to be more across the high part of my forehead, or when it's really bad like a band around my entire head. It corresponds better to my swim cap than my goggles, but my swim cap is silicone and not that snug. I'm a little worried that it's something physically wrong with me causing pressure in my head when I stay in a swimming position for a while. It's apparently nothing to do with chlorine. Maybe I should just wear my swim cap for half an hour while hanging around the house and see what happens.

Pedy the dromedary 

new stuff

I'm messing with the template. The old one was a little too pale, but now of course I've lost all my customizations. Easy come, easy go. We'll have to see if the comments are working.

This morning, ladies and gentlemen, I took a walk. It was a very nice morning. I'm still exhausted from my dad's visit. We all are. Bu slept over 12 hours. The other big news is that I went ahead and bought a wetsuit last night, a longjohn I guess it's called, long legs and sleeveless, for $115. It's the cheapest I've seen anywhere, so I'm happy. We're going out to the lake tonight to get it wet and make sure the bodyglide stuff actually works. I envision spending 5 minutes getting the damn thing off in transition.

By the way, the camel is the one I rode and walked with for a week in South Australia. We were near Coober Pedy, hence the name. He was a good camel and wise.

Memorial Day

Beautiful day. We went to the Boy Scout pancake breakfast at the fire station this morning, saw the parade, and Bu got to bond with real live firefighters, climb in a truck, all that and a bag of goodies. The parade consisted of the Boy Scout color guard and the high school marching band, which ain't big, let me tell you. The whole thing was over in 5 minutes. It was such a big morning that Bu is currently taking a genuine nap. You don't see that everyday in Bulandia.

We're assembling the from-scratch playset that Andy's dad designed. It's a monument to overengineering. The thing will last forever. The nasturtiums, cucumbers and sunflowers are coming up and I hung all my flower baskets.

On the training front, I did the usual ride yesterday, to the next town and back. By my computer it's somewhere around 35k, but I always forget to check the exact distance. If I'm going hard it takes about an hour and 15 or 20 minutes. If I'm admiring double rainbows and cloud formations, it could take upside of an hour and a half. Sometimes you just have to stop and stare.

Today I meant to go lake swimming. I still might. There are a few errands to do, including checking into a tri wetsuit. Memorial Day means the presence of nearly immobile, cantankerous elderly people. You do what you can.

the run/weights/run one

I do this workout once a week and it never gets much easier. I hope it's because I keep pushing it harder. I fear it's because I'm making no progress. I'm doing more than I used to, so that's something. Planning some lake swimming for the weekend. It's too gorgeous out today. I need to tie myself to the chair like Ulysses tied himself to the mast to resist the Sirens. Sirene is French for mermaid. You think that's what they're really talking about?

Sorry about the sideways pic, still figuring this out

Sophie 

back at it

A half hour on my bike this morning, probably just short of 20k. I'm doing the same road a lot so I'm getting a good feeling for how far I've gone even if I forget to check the computer. My bike makes me happy. Also, my husband has promised to do Beefcake Yoga with me as physical therapy for his wonky knee. He also promises to wear a speedo a la Rodney Yee if I keep the room really warm and never tell anyone. This doesn't count as telling anyone, does it?

better news

Did some yoga this morning, felt a little better. My husband checked out a yoga video for me by this guy named Rodney Yee who apparently runs the If You've Got It, Flaunt It School of Yoga. He does the whole thing on the beach wearing nothing but snug little black briefs. He's probably a gay icon I haven't heard of. The tape was for beginners and extremely wimpy. I need some kick-ass yoga at the moment to take my mind off things. As between Ancient Skiing Yogi from Alaska and Beefcake Yogi, though, I gotta say, this is an improvement in the scenery.

if dogs have a heaven

We put Sophie to sleep yesterday. She was lying in the shade of an apple tree at my in-laws' place with me, Andy, Bu and Nadia, the vet. My brother-in-law and father-in-law had dug a hole before we arrived, because that's all they could do. Neither one of them could watch. I knew that I had to. As long as she was with me Sophie never willingly let me face any danger or trouble alone, and if she was going to walk into the valley of the shadow of death I had to go with her. I stroked her heavy paws and talked to her while Nadia gave her a sedative, and later the overdose.

Bu wanted to be there. He refused to go into the house with his grandpa until after Sophie was gone. I don't know if we were right to let him stay, but Sophie was his dog too. He loved her and she loved him, and I thought he had a right to stay with her. We didn't do this because it was easier for us. We did it because it was the merciful thing to do for Sophie, who could not stand by herself, who fell as often as not going up and down the two front steps, who was bleeding from the nose from cancer, who had lost a third of her body weight. I can't imagine what could be worse than to look at a living thing you love and make the conscious decision to take her life. Now that I've done it,
the only thing that makes it bearable is my certainty that it was the right thing to do.

When Nadia finally said, "She's gone", I put my head down on Sophie's chest and cried, and I had the strongest vision of her standing there looking down at us, younger and more beautiful than I'd ever seen her. She lowered her massive head to nuzzle me and lick my cheek, and then she leapt up full of energy and danced off through the trees into the sunlight. She was free. "Sleep, sweetheart," I whispered into her silky ear. "Come back to us soon."

Taps

Bu is well already, but the vet had bad news about Sophie. She's down to 83 pounds from her usual 120+, and the lump in her nose is cancer. Nadia the vet suggests that we put her down. It breaks my heart, but it also breaks my heart to see my girl suffer. Nadia's going to come out to my in-laws' place to give Sophie the injection so that we can bury her right there, next to Bu's horse chestnut tree. We'll remember her the way Lord Byron remembered his Newfoundland:

Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a DOG
Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,
And died at Newstead, Nov 18th, 1808.

Midnite Bay's Sophia Brindisi was born August 9, 1991 outside Lincoln, Nebraska, and she will be buried in West Branch, Iowa. Her parents were champions, and she is the finest dog I ever met in every way. She swam in the Atlantic and the Pacific, which is as much like heaven as any Newfoundland could want, I think.

a trip to the doctor

Not for me, fortunately, but little Bu is out of preschool for a few days with a nasty case of strep. His glands are so swollen that he looks like one of those desert lizards that swell up their necks to scare off predators, poor little bugger. He's acted like he felt really sick a few times, but mostly he's very perky and loves his new Candyland game. Sophia the Ancient also goes to the (animal) doc on Friday. She can hardly stand and has had a very bad cold pretty much the entire winter. Nothing makes it better.

I did the run/weights/run workout yesterday, felt great, did more than usual. This morning was an hour of yoga. I'd like to go to the track tonight, but darn, I have tickets to Cabaret. Tomorrow morning then.

glub glub

Finally went for a swim yesterday. Shannon picked me up and we were going to meet Russ and Monica at the Y to go with them as guests but - uh-oh - they didn't show up. Instead we went to the public indoor pool. I usually go to the Iowa City pools so I'd never been there, and now I'm glad I hadn't. It was small and overcrowded, too warm, and very high on the chlorine. My head was throbbing by the time I got out. I did a short workout: 300 to warm up, 500 in drills, and 500 freestyle, working on swimming effortlessly and saving my legs. My tactic for the sprint tris this summer is to use as little energy as possible on the swim and make up time on the bike and run where I'm much faster. I can maintain about 17 strokes per length, move reasonably fast and pop out at the end hardly breathing hard. I'm just going to have to get over the mental setback of seeing everyone get out of the water ahead of me!

Anyway, nasty nasty pool. I can't wait until the outdoor pools open in a few weeks. And I've found a local place that sells tri wetsuits. I really am thinking about it.

Pigman

June 6 is the Pigman Triathlon in Palo, Iowa, not far at all from home. The fam and I drove up there yesterday morning to check out the course along with a first-timer triathlete from near Dubuque. Malvey came over with his family, so the non-competitors got to hang out. We did the bike and run as a brick and Malvey did some swimming afterward. I haven't bought a wetsuit yet so I wasn't ready to go leaping into a cold lake for a nice brisk swim. Either it will have to warm up significantly in the next 3 weeks or I'm going to have to suck it up and buy the wetsuit.

The bike ride was really good fun. A nearly flat course (sorry Iowa, but your charming little hills do not intimidate a Montanan) and a tailwind on the way *back* - that's what I'm talkin about! Coming out of the park I passed a couple of guys riding tri bikes worth nearly as much as my car. I mean, blew by them like they were standing still. What a feeling. They caught me later riding into the headwind, but I grabbed a wheel and let them pull me into Palo. The run crosses the dam across the reservoir, so there's a nice cross breeze. Felt fine the whole way, no knee twitches or anything. I wore my unisuit from Lake Washington Rowing Club. It's not quite like a trisuit, but it has a lightly padded butt and dries fast so it works really well for sprint distance. It was starting to rub me under the arms by the end. I might need to bring along some Vaseline on the day. Also baby powder for my socks. And my sunnies. And maybe a hat. Don't worry, I'm making a list.

tailwind

Long run this morning. Things got a little off track yesterday because the husband and I went out for a fabulous evening of salsa dancing and margaritas on Monday night that left me a soggy mess for work yesterday and not at all keen to buzz off for an hour's workout. I made up for it this morning by running almost an hour, way out past my favorite farm, getting buzzed by scary, territorial nesting redwing blackbirds. There was also a little adrenalin rush when I was almost to the train tracks, the lights went on, the arms came down, and the train started blasting away from maybe 100 meters down the track. It wasn't moving all that fast so I scooted around the arm and over the track with 3 headlights and a zillion pounds of steel bearing down on me. Gets the heartrate right up there, that does.

bring the storm

Crazy ride this morning. I got out early, about 10 to 6, expecting at least a good hour on the road. Wonderful warm morning with very little wind, which turned out to be what's known as the calm before the storm. I got about 10 minutes north of town when I started to see lightning and a few minutes later the sky opened up. Ananda and I spun around and raced back for town, only to ride out of the storm completely a few miles down the road. I cut around and headed out the road west of town, hoping for better luck in that direction. Caught a little rain on my way back in, but nothing like the dump that was promising up north. Back home the storm hit while I was in the shower: the giants in the clouds swinging from the chandeliers, like Bu's Franklin the Turtle book says. The rain is good for my veggies and flowers, but it's going to make that bloody lawn grow even faster, not to mention the dandelions.

the long desired spring

Mother's Day. Five of us went canoeing on the Maquoketa River, didn't see another human the whole time but there were great blue herons, hawks, big brown turtles, trout, deer, and beaver. Vinicio fished with an antique rod and I found an antique bottle at the bottom of the river. Bu was afloat with enthusiasms and eager to race the canoes. The thunderheads came in just as we got out.

No workout yesterday. Lots of running around, gardening, etc., but I let myself off the hook, then did intervals this morning before going to a big M-Day breakfast with the whole tribe. This week: some new workouts, definitely some swimming, and planting sunflowers and poppies.

one foot in front of the other

Big storm last night. It woke us up. I was wondering if the bike ride this morning would be possible, and when I woke up it was windy and cold. I thought about cycling. I thought naaaaaaah. I thought about running. My legs hurt. While I was thinking, I was getting dressed, putting on my fleece and my running shoes. I didn't want to do anything. Finally I thought, I'll just go for a walk, just to stretch my legs because they've been so tight lately. So that's what I did: I went for a long walk around town for about an hour, and I felt good. Softball tonight, canoeing this weekend. I need a little variety. It's been a long hard slog through the winter and I crave something new. The whole point of triathlon for me is to cater to my short attention span!

I also promised news of my dog on this blog. Her name is Sophie and she's a 12 year old Newfoundland who is, despite what Bu says, not afraid of the house. She can hardly stand up sometimes now - not dysplasia or anything, just old age - and I get behind her and haul her butt in the air so she can get her legs under her. We give her aspirin because it works as well as anything. She drags herself in and out, and on good days she walks a block to the grocery store with me, resting here and there along the way. She'll be 13 in August, if she lives that long. I think one day she just won't wake up, or she won't be able to stand at all and we'll have to have her put down. I can help her stand, but even between me and my husband it would be tough to carry her in and out several times a day. She still weighs well over 100 lbs. We'll do whatever we can. She's still my girl who shuffles over and lies on my feet so I can't get away from her. I'll miss her so.

If this is Thursday it must be Cedar Rapids

Same old same old. I did the run/weights/run workout yesterday. It's a good 50-60 minutes and usually wears me out. My legs were hurting the rest of the day, and it seems self-defeating to give myself massages. I try, but it doesn't help much and it makes me more tired. This morning I gave myself a break from working out, and I think Bu and I will go over to the track this afternoon. He does preschooler intervals where he sprints as hard as he can then flops down and lies still until he recovers. Todleks. He's not really a toddler anymore though. He's a big guy. He tells me every day which body part has grown. Yesterday he said that the house is a scary monster and our dog is scared of it. Our dog fears nothing. I won't worry until he starts writing Red Rum on the mirrors.

recovery

I did yoga yesterday, then a half hour easy run this morning. Still fairly knackered from the bike ride, and I've been going after it pretty hard in my workouts recently. I think this will be an easier week.

Ups & Downs

We did the 48 mile intermediate loop in Illinois on Saturday. Plenty of hills, plenty of speed, but Elizabeth, IL could use a few good vegetarian restaurants. I wound up eating a burger because I was starving and it was that or grilled cheese made with Velveeta. Have I mentioned yet that I'm not big on processed cheese? But the ride was grand. I was keeping up with the whizzy boys on the fancy bikes with aero wheels, no pains anywhere, not too hot or too cold, and cookie and Gatorade stops every 10-15 miles. Beauty. Ananda was an animal and everyone loved her French blue. My toes keep getting numb when I ride long, and it's not from cold. Maybe I need to move my cleats a little.

get your motor running

Up at 5:45 this morning for a nice run around town. Literally. I run around my town. It ain't that big. Out along the trail along the quarry pond, past the cemetery, along the creek, over behind the ball field, across the tracks, beside the college and back home past the high school. A long coal train came through around 6:30 and I got to run over it on the little ped bridge. If you stand on the bridge and wait for the train, the shock wave nearly knocks you over. Bu loves it. Lots of walkers out this morning. The cherry and apple trees are in bloom and the lilacs are coming on. The whole place smells like L'Occitane.

really nice sunrises in this part of the world

I'm getting in on a lot of them lately. You first start to see light about a quarter to six, so I hop on the bike and head out the road to the north of town, the quietest one around here. There are a few people coming into town early, but not much traffic going out. Peaceful. Sightings this morning: Red-wing blackbirds, doves, robins, sparrows, rabbits, squirrels and a massive dead raccoon. I just got a new floor pump so it was all systems go, keeping a great cadence and climbing more easily on the hills, feeling stronger. The drivers are nice, and maybe it's partly the early hour. Everyone gives me a full lane at 6 a.m.

This Saturday is Ride the Ups and Downs over in Illinois, getting a little pack experience. I'm thinking about which other tris to register for this summer. There are enough just in Iowa that I can do a few a month, although they're pretty expensive (about $50 each). I'm thinking about doing four this year, including the Iowa Games. I've been looking at the times and I'm reasonably competitive, but I'm going to have to kick it up a notch if I want to win anything. The cycling's going well, so I think a little speed work on the track is probably the thing.

Also this week: extreme lawnmowing, running and weights. This time the weight workout didn't kick my butt quite as badly. I've really got to work on getting to the pool more often.

big weekend

I really need to do more swimming, but it's so fantastically inconvenient without a pool nearby. This weekend I had a long run, a medium-ish cycle, dancing, softball, and generally so much physical activity that it's now Monday morning and I need a nap. Next weekend is Ride the Ups & Downs in Illinois and I'm going over with the local bike gang. Sounds like fun and we're praying for good weather.

ouch

Went for a run this morning to loosen up my sore legs. That weight workout definitely hit the right muscles - I could feel them every step. Plus I had a blister from wearing stupid girly shoes yesterday. Even in my compromised state, though, I saw the sun rise over open fields and all was well.

ommmmmm

Yoga again this morning. I was planning to run but it was nasty cold wet windy awful out and my legs were still hurting from weights yesterday, so I got out ye olde yoga dvd and followed along with Philip, who is apparently Gumby's long lost white boy twin. I do feel better. Maybe I'll get that run tonight. I also got a nice long walk in high heels while running a few errands this morning. That must be good for some part of the body, but it's not my back.

chasing lightning

Little Bu is taking off on his little Lance Jr. Trek bike. He still has the training wheels on but he hardly needs them. He uses them to corner hard. I have to wear my running shoes to keep up with him. We did a few miles last night, with breaks to watch the high school girls tennis match and to race all over the grade school playground. When he goes up hills he doesn't slow down or get off, although he has only one gear. Instead he growls. When it gets steeper, he growls louder. On the straightaways he shouts "Woohoo!" repeatedly and pedals as fast as he can. I think he gets it from me.

This morning was weights, moving on to the Power Endurance phase where I do lighter weights at insanely high reps. I did 40 of everything this morning, which sounded easy conceptually and hurt a lot by the time I got done. A new workout is always good. It keeps you thinking.

full force gale

Okay, I exaggerate, but it was a lotta wind. I was doing so great this morning, record speed, incredibly strong, until I turned around and headed south into this big bitch of a headwind coming straight at me across the less-than-mountainous Iowa landscape. You know it's bad when you have to keep pedalling to maintain speed going downhill.

Biking into the wind was this morning, Saturday was a rest day if you don't count hiking all over town with Bu hunting The Last Basselope, pulling a wagon full of supplies. We found the basselope, in case you're wondering. It was under a picnic table at the park.

Friday was a bike/run brick that went really well. It didn't hurt much at all going to the run. I didn't worry about transition, just sat down and put on my running shoes. I'll work on that part later. Plus - I've signed up for my first triathlon of the season! It's the Pigman sprint in Palo on June 6.

Still geeking out with the bike maintenance. I'm going to practice on our old bikes while tinkering very very carefully with my precious. I gave her a name today, while on the tailwind joyride: Ananda, the joy without which the universe would collapse.

en famille

So yesterday evening little Bu rode in the babyjogger, Andy rode his bike and I ran. We did a nice loop through town and wound up at the big playground where we all played until we started to get really hungry. Bu got out of the stroller a few times and wanted to run and push it himself, which was fine except that he couldn't see over the top and kept running into trees. He got enough of a workout that he nearly passed out in his burrito and didn't object to having his face washed and putting on his jammies. You gotta love spring.

still here

Sorry for the long disappearance. The new job kicks my butt sometimes, but I'm still training. I did about 40 miles on the bike this weekend, half of it into a nasty headwind. A good run, yoga, the weekly weight workout (Power Endurance phase, for those of you who follow the Triathlete's Training Bible), a track workout yesterday, and tonight I'm going out running with the whole family. This doesn't mean everyone runs. Probably I'll push little Bu in the babyjogger (he weighs over 40 lbs/18kg so it's a workout in itself!) and my husband will probably get out the in-line skates and cruise around. It's gorgeous here. No normal person could stay inside.

I'm getting out on the bike a lot more, and getting geeky about maintenance. I've been reading Zinn and the Art of Road Bike Maintenance, hanging out at the bike shop on my lunch hour, you know the signs. Mastering my cycling computer was a major triumph. Now I'm getting all the bikes in the house cleaned up and tuned. There are many excuses to buy more tools. Heh heh.

open road

I've been battling a stomach bug but felt good enough Sunday morning to ride about 35k (20+ miles), lots of hills, not too much wind, felt great. Did yoga again this morning. It takes care of all the little sore bits.

breakthrough at the gym!

It was a big day. I ran over to the gym for weights, and today I actually had a conversation with both Big Arms and her buddy Even Bigger Arms. I still don't know their names, but we're making serious progress. It's a small local gym so it was a little weird when the only other early morning lifters were total strangers. Now I feel more comfortable. The weight regime is coming along fine. I'm doing lots of core and tri-specific exercises (as recommended in the Triathlete's Training Bible). I feel very strong and haven't had a serious injury in ages.

The first (sorta) race is coming up May 1. It's a cycling tour, not for prizes, but still. Go hard or go home.

running warm

This morning for the first time since maybe October, I felt warm running. I almost wanted shorts instead of tights, but not quite. Got a little excitement too: some meathead in a monster truck nearly ran me down and shouted at me bravely - from behind his tinted windows - to run on the sidewalk. If he ever got off his fat ass long enough to run a mile, he'd know that sidewalks are murder on your knees. And if he hadn't slept through whatever minimal education he has, he might know that I have as much right to that road as he does. These were the thoughts running through my mind as I finished up my run, which is too bad. There are lots of things I'd rather think about, but I tend to get hung up on things like the wetlands being destroyed for the new McMansion subdivision west of town. Gotta have that 4-car garage to park the SUVs, the boats, the ATVs, and of course, that monster truck.

like Lance - not

I was all set for a good ride this morning but woke up to a pounding thunderstorm. Chicken or prudent not to go out on the open roads on a metal machine in the pouring rain during an electrical storm? You be the judge. I went to the gym instead and did the cross country bike training program. Average rpms: 78, including the hills. I can't wait to get on my bike.

tried to ride

The wind Sunday morning didn't know I was there. It went through me without stopping, through the miracle fabrics like a miracle on its way from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. I rode into it until I felt naked like a chicken under plastic down at Gary's. Then I went home. The computer is kewl.

working for a living

What with it being slightly dark at both ends of the day (what is UP with this planetary rotation?) and my requiring a certain amount of sleep to function, it's a little tough right now to get in the workouts. I ran a little over half an hour at the field house yesterday (Wednesday), did a lot of footwork drills and sprints and felt fine, maybe a few twinges in the knees from running in circles. It's slowly but surely getting warmer, and as soon as I can be out running, skating, cycling in the fresh air things will be fine. Unfortunately, the thought of dragging my butt out of bed in the dark to go bounce around the gym does not fill my heart with joy. I'm a pure outdoorswoman. It's also important to see little Bu during the few hours a day we get to spend together while we're both awake.

On the Road again

It dumped snow yesterday, so the road's not looking so good. I also started a new job last week, which has me exhausted and struggling to keep up with everything. I got in a swim workout Sunday evening, was sick yesterday, and did yoga this morning. I'm trying to get back on the very regular schedule I had before the bar exam, but it's hard to get up that early and I'm knackered at night. It would help a lot to have some nice weather for inspiration! On the bright side, little Bu loves the snow and got to wear his bright red snowsuit this morning. Sophie the Large lies in the snow and eats it in delicate, drooly mouthfuls, percolating with delight.

like the wind

Got out the in-line skates for the first time this season and pushed the baby jogger + 43 pound "baby" around for about an hour and a half. What a blast! It got into the 50s here yesterday, gorgeous spring weather on the last day of February. I could have danced all night. By the time I got home my feet were a little sore from doing something unaccustomed, but not blistered. Little bu got cold but really enjoyed waving and shouting hi to everyone as we blew past. We went down one of the steeper hills in town flying with no brakes and he shrieked and laughed. Later he got on his little bike and wanted to go "fast like Mama goes." Heh heh heh. I'll make a skier out of him yet.