Marisa's Blog

Mid-Winter Classic

2012-02-14T15:07:00.001-05:00

The 10-mile road race holds a special place in my heart.
The Broad Street Run is a big deal in Philadelphia. It is a pancake flat 10-mile course that goes from one end of the Broad Street Subway Line to the other. The entire city turns out for it: super fast elite runners, college kids still drunk from the night before walk-running in heavy sweats, and everybody in between. The morning of the race runners can ride the Broad Street Line for free and the subway is PACKED with nervous runners and pre-race energy. Fit athletes in racing flats pour out onto the streets of North Philly and strung-out homeless crackies cheer "go runners!". It's fantastic.
I started running to train for the 2005 race. In January I couldn't run more than 10 minutes without stopping. In May I ran the 10-mile race at about a 9:30 pace. I signed up for the Philly Half Marathon that September, then the Philadelphia Marathon that November, and I haven't looked back.
In 2006 a group of friends used the Broad Street Run as their carrot to get off the couch. Vicky, Elizabeth, and assorted Fergusons all crossed the finish line with smiles on their faces. I knocked fifteen minutes off of my time and was thrilled.
Then I moved to NH.
I registered for a 10-mile race in Maine that took place three weeks after my big January marathon. I had no idea what my legs would feel like-- dead? fresh? strong? heavy? And I had no idea if I would be mentally ready to race weeks after Charleston. But I had fond memories of running ten milers and friends were racing. Worst case I'd have a fun morning with people I rarely see.
Sean spent Thursday-Saturday skiing with his buddies in Vermont and drove to NH late Saturday night. We left bright and early Sunday morning for the drive to Cape Elizabeth. The plan was for me to run and for Sean to spectate/sherpa/ relax in the high school and recover from skiing. I was not in race mode. I wore race clothing, ate a pre-race meal, and had a race mix on my iPod but spent all of my mental race energy on Charleston.
We met up with friends in the high school cafeteria and my stomach started doing pre-race butterflies. Huh? I had no intention of "racing", why was I getting nervous? Sean watched us prep for the run and said that he wished he was running too. I offered him my bib, Ange said "no way". The race was technically sold out but there were TONS of unclaimed bibs so it was not at capacity. He had on running shoes. I said "so run it!", half joking. "You can wear my warm-up pants, they're huge on me!". He had a wicking shirt under his hoodie. Mark donated gloves. We scrounged up some socks. Sean was in.
We made our way to the start line and I sang the songs on my iPod at the top of my lungs to entertain Sean and take my mind off of the race. I wasn't racing, this was a fun run. I was going to see what my legs had in them and go from there. No pressure. We lined up in the middle of the pack. (Big mistake. There wasn't a timing mat at the start and the first half mile was crowded and slow. )
The gun went off and I was immediately frustrated by the crowds and slow pace. I elbowed past runners and was running a comfortable pace five minutes into the run. Then I looked at my watch. My pace was faster than I planned but I felt strong so decided to go with it. We hit a few rolling hills and Sean dropped back. I still felt good. Maybe I would race this thing.
Me and Sean around mile 2:

These pictures are just horrifying. I looked through the race photos online and thought "Hey, that short man with the big neck is wearing the same outfit was me". Then realized that I am the short man with the fat neck. Holy moly. Need to wear something a little more flattering next time. And any suggestions for the neck?
Mile 6:

Around halfway point I realized I was on pace for a respectable time and felt great: strong on the hills, quick and light on the flats. I was shocked but decided keep going and see when my marathon fatigue would show up and cause me to crash. Didn't happen. I picked up speed with each mile and crossed the finish line with a 7:14 min/mile average. I felt fantastic and regretted "not racing". I ended up fourth in my division. If I had lined up near the front and attacked that first mile I could have taken off a chunk of time... could I have been third?
Sean pulled out of the race right before the finishers shoot since he wasn't officially running. He also ran a strong race and totally on a whim. Impressive.
We chatted with friends, showered, snacked, and cheered for the award winners before driving to Portland for a delicious brunch with spicy Bloody Marys.

A Sunday morning well spent. Glad I got in race mode after all.

Goodales Indoor Time Trial

2012-02-07T13:25:00.004-05:00

Remember that game called Seven Minutes in Heaven? This one should be called Twenty Minutes in Hell.

I am not a cyclist. At all. I have Fall Risk stickers from the hospital all over my pink bike. I have crappy handling skills. I don't climb well or descend well. My threshold power leaves a lot to be desired. Last Fall I built up enough fitness on the bike to stay near the front of the pack in triathlons but would have been dropped like a stone minutes into a real group ride. And I know better than to show up to shop rides with the hard-core guys. You get the idea. But since I'm all about leaving my comfort zone at the moment an indoor time trial sponsored by my local bike shop seemed like a great idea: a tough workout, an assessment of my early season (lack of) bike fitness, and a new pint glass. Sign me up.

The time trial was a 6.2 mile CompuTrainer ride of Central Park. The trainers were hooked up to a computer that changes the resistance based on the course and each rider's speed/power/position was projected on a big screen in the front. Eight riders per heat, ten heats in 40 minute increments.

The set up:

Sean and I were in heat two. We arrived just as the first heat was finishing up. The riders all looked like they wanted to die. Uh oh. We were there to have fun and get our asses kicked so we warmed up with children's helmets on. Safety first!

And before I had too long to think about what I was getting into we were off.

I brought my own music and turned the volume up as loud as I could stand. It was just me and the music and the little yellow person for Rider 6 on the CompuTrainer screen.
Within two minutes I was hurting: legs burning, lungs on fire, face radiating heat. Oh man, this was going to twenty long minutes. And then without thinking I turned my head to the left and spit. Inside. On the floor. Right next to Sean. Classy. He later said when I did that he thought "oh, it's game ON!".

For the first five minutes I kept my power exactly where I wanted to. At the halfway point my power slipped a little but was still above my "you must stay above --- watts at all times" number. In case you were wondering, this is what I look like when my heart is about to explode:

Fourteen or fifteen minutes in I mentally caved. I still had five minutes left and my power had slipped below the lowest acceptable value I set for myself. I just gave up. One of the guys who works at the bike shop saw my watts drop off and stood directly behind me and cheered. And with a few minutes to go I got back on track and finished strong.

The worst part of the entire race was the first thirty seconds AFTER the ride. I had that metallic taste in the back of my throat, I was light-headed, and I was close to falling off my bike. The feeling passed quickly, though, and I was able to cheer in the rest of the riders in my heat.

Sean and I just look red and hot and uncomfortable in the race photos but these guys, well, they are wearing the pain we all felt right there on their faces. Best bad race photos ever:

Red faced and sweaty after the ride (and HOW IN THE WORLD did I manage to get bike grease on my leg riding inside!?!):

I finished third in my heat and was the first woman overall until heat 7. I didn't like it. When I race strong and fight to the finish I'm there to kick ass and take names. But I didn't ride that well, I didn't produce the power I am capable of, I gave up 3/4 through the ride. I didn't deserve to win. Where were the real cyclists?

They were in heat 7. I got bumped to first in my division. There were only a few seconds separating me from second overall and it was absolutely because I let up. I didn't fight for it. It was a great early season lesson.
But I still won a new set of carbon aerobars :)

Charleston Marathon

2012-01-31T14:50:00.001-05:00

Karin and I drove to the finish area and picked up a shuttle bus to the start area. I sat by the window and kept to myself while Karin made new friends with other nervous runners and chatted away. The bus dropped us off about ten blocks from the start area (road closures?). Brrrrrr. The wind was nasty and I was freezing in my race outfit and OR gown. I had little chemical hand warmers inside my gloves but they weren't cutting it. Ange told me about a nice warm building they had near the start area last year and I was looking forward to getting out of the wind. Unfortunately they moved race day registration to an open parking structure this year and that building was locked. It was 6:30am. The race started at 8. I was shivering. Shit. Then I looked around and recognized the area from Thursday. There was a 24-hour grocery store a few blocks away! Walked in to the nice warm store and sat on floor by the grocery carts. Karin left to do her warm-up run (she was racing the half marathon) and I decided to get creative. Let’s see how much this little store would tolerate! I did my warm-up up and down the isles of the grocery: toe and heel walks in spices, butt kicks and high knees in international foods, side shuffle up and down cereal/pasta. Brilliant move.Walked to the start line at 7:45 and lined up near the front. Stood next to a guy from Milford NH (one town over!)—what a small world. He was going for sub-3 so I knew I was a little bit TOO close to the front. National anthem, speech by the mayor, took my OR gown off, and begged a few skinny male runners to PLEASE get in front of me as I did not need to be in the very first row. Then we were off and the dumbass mayor just calmly walked right across the field, tripping a few runners and causing quite the bloody pile up.

The start:

I'm behind the guy in the orange shirt on the right:

Bloody pile-up courtesy of the Mayor of Charleston:

The course was very strange-- clearly they mapped the route around easy road-closure permits-- but the race was well-supported with drinks every 2 miles and a few random bands. The temperature was perfect but the wind was a little much. At points I felt like I was running into a wall of headwind. But I kept an even pace, didn't struggle with negative thoughts, and felt the best I've ever felt both physically and mentally: no GI issues, no cramping, no wall, no fading pace, no demons in my head. I won't bore you with the mile-by-mile breakdown. It wasn't all that exciting. I kept an even pace, stayed positive, and got the job done.
Mile 21:

Got close to the finish line and smiled ear-to-ear:

My butt, right before the finish:

So so so so happy and proud at the finish line:

I crossed the finish line, put my head in my hands, and cried. I couldn't believe I actually did it. 3:27:37. A 25 minute PR, a Boston qualifying time (BQ) by 13 minutes, and first in my age group. The trifecta.
Yup, I rocked this race:

Karin found me after I got my finisher pic taken. I had warned her that I am usually in pretty rough shape after marathons (GI cramps/ can't take another step/ etc ) but I felt wonderful, like I had just knocked off another long run. Karin was ready to help but I was fully functional. I walked-- slowly, gingerly, but not shuffling-- to the finishers tent where I changed into warm dry sweats since I did get my usual post-marathon blue lips and chills.
Finishers:

One beer for the PR, another for the BQ:

Karin and I enjoyed many many free post-race beers. Each bib had two beer tickets which lasted me about 30 minutes. I walked to the tent exit and when people left with beer tickets attached to their bibs I smiled and sweetly said "Congrats on your race! Are you leaving? Oh, really? Already? Then would you be willing to share your beer tickets?" I filled my fleece pocket with at least twenty beer tickets and five shrimp/grits tickets (which had pork in it so I couldn't partake). We closed down the tent and by 2pm they guys running the tap let me walk behind the table and pour my own beer.

Awards ceremony. I was the 15th woman overall and won my division:

Karin wore her yoga pants sans undies post-race and wanted to get something clean to wear on the plane home. This is what I look like when I run a marathon, drink beer, and get thrown in a dressing room for my opinion about fashion:

I was bummed that I wasn't able to sample the local oysters on Thursday so Saturday night Karin and I went out for seafood and another drink or two. We tried different varieties of oysters (yummy and even yummier), local shrimp, and the famous she-crab soup.

We met two local half marathon finishers who spotted our medals and spent the evening learning about shrimping and oyster parties, running in Charleston and boating in Buford. We also knocked back a few too many oyster shooters (vodka, horseradish, Tabasco, lemon, and a fresh oyster shucked straight into the glass). Karin and I hoped to hit up as many seafood restaurants as possible in pub-crawl style but only made it to Amen and Pearl. I highly recommend both. We laughed and ate and drank and celebrated and laughed some more. The perfect ending to the perfect race day.

Charleston, Pre-Race

2012-01-21T12:06:00.000-05:00

I woke up early Thursday morning to falling snow, the first real snow of the winter (I'm not counting Snowtober, that was just strange). Uh oh. I told myself that it was going to be OK, my flight was scheduled to leave at 6:05 and there wasn't even an inch on the ground yet.
It kept snowing. By the time I got to the airport there were a few inches. My flight to Charleston had a layover in Baltimore. I checked the Departure screen. Flights to Philadelphia: cancelled. Flights to Newark: cancelled. Flights to Baltimore: on time. For how long?
All of the passengers at Gate 15 were tense and quiet. Were we going to get to Baltimore? The Southwest flight attendant got on the intercom and assured us that, yes, we could take off around the scheduled time. There might be a few minutes of delay because of the de-icing but our flight time was padded so even with the delay we should arrive ahead of schedule. I had a 40 minute layover in Baltimore and was already cutting it close.
We boarded. I fell asleep. I woke up at 6:45 and we were still on the ground. In that confused sleep-wake state I thought "Uh, this flight is really delayed....this is going to be bad for my connection...." and back to sleep. Woke up as the plane touched down in Maryland. The pilot apologized for the delay but said that all of the connections were still OK and like a fool I believed him. I didn't rush and push my way off the plane but didn't doddle-- quickly got my carry-on and power walked to the closest Southwest agent. "Can you tell me which gate the flight to Charleston is at?". "Oh honey, it's ALL THE WAY in B-2. I was in Terminal A. Power walked about 100 feet before I heard "paging passenger Marisa Rowlson. Charleston passenger Marisa Rowlson". FUUUUUCK!!!!! I ran through terminal A, up the escalator (all of this with my carry-on and a jacket in my hands), across the food court and little air mall. "Final call for Charleston passenger Marisa Rowlson". I was in a full-out SPRINT and came barreling into terminal B. A guy at B-2 shouted "if you are Marisa Rowlson get over here!" and I raced to him as he unlocked the door to the loading ramp. Ran onto the plane and they closed the door behind me. Found an open seat and took a deep breath. I was sweating, my heart was racing, and no way in Hell anybody but a runner could have made that connection. All connections are fine MY ASS!
But I made it. Picked up the rental car and checked out North Charleston until I could check into the hotel. Meh. Generic strip mall convention center land with a Walmart and an outlet mall. Could have been anywhere, wasn't impressed. But I did see these which was a nice change from the snow:

When I checked into my hotel this was waiting for me:

What a fantastic surprise. Thank you Sean. NOW I was getting excited to race.
Thursday evening I explored downtown Charleston. What a fantastic area: great restaurants, a huge pier with porch swings, wonderful vibe. Loved it and was more than a little bummed that I couldn't eat oysters or the creamy crab soup or drink alcohol but this was a business trip, not a vacation. I was there to get a job done.
Friday morning I gorged myself so thoroughly on carbs at the hotel buffet that I got stares. Marathons are so sexy. I was in my sweaty running clothes from my shake-out jog stuffing pancakes down my throat and hiccuping because I was eating so quickly, all while holding back nervous pre-race tears. And THAT is why I travel to races alone.
Karin arrived Friday morning on the same Manchester-Baltimore-Charleston flight. We got her carboloaded at IHOP and I managed to stuff two more pancakes in my stomach without dry heaving. Success. I was carbo loaded.
A quick stop by the race expo:

and back to the hotel for a day of Modified Bed Rest.

Poor Karin. This was her view of Charleston on Friday:

I rested, hydrated, read, and snacked on simple carbs until I thought I might be sick. We had an early dinner, stopped by Starbucks for coffee to reheat in the morning, laid out our race gear, and were in bed by 8pm.
I didn't sleep much. My mind was focused on the marathon and I was awake checking the alarm clock and generally being nervous. All three of the alarms I set went off at 4:40am but I was already awake. Ate my pre-race breakfast, got dressed and lubed and taped up, and it was game on!

Curled-Up Crying Child

2012-01-21T09:54:00.002-05:00

I had marathon on the mind for the first weeks of January. I was nervous, excited, terrified, ready to rock it, scared to even attempt it... you get the idea. A hot mess. I tried to play it cool at work and think I held my shit together pretty well. I didn't make a huge big deal out of the race and only my closest friends had any idea how important it was to me. But inside... yikes.
The Charleston Marathon was Saturday. My flight was scheduled to leave early Thursday morning giving me a travel day and a full rest day pre-race. Tuesday I heard buzzing about a snow storm predicted to hit on Thursday. I blocked it out. Wednesday morning I logged onto Southwest.com to get my seat assignment and saw a flashing red sign about a weather emergency in New England. I didn't click on the flashing alert. Wednesday afternoon I was bored at work. My bags were packed, my boarding pass was printed, the reservations were made. Nothing left to plan for, no more boxes to check off. The only thing left was to visualize the perfect race and since I couldn't think about that without freaking out I turned my attention to things that were out of my hands: the weather, my flight. I checked the weather statement:
Northeast Winter Weather
"Southwest Airlines is anticipating winter weather conditions in the Northeast over the next couple of days. At this time, we are operating our scheduled flight service at Albany (ALB), Hartford (BDL), and Manchester (MHT); however, as the winter weather conditions develop, there is a possibility that our flights on Thursday, January 12 and Friday, January 13 could be delayed, diverted, or cancelled.
With this in mind, Customers holding reservations for travel to/from ALB, BDL, or MHT all day Thursday, January 12 or Friday, January 13 are eligible to reschedule their flight in accordance with our accommodation procedures.
If you would like to rebook online, please click reschedule your flight. For Customers who did not purchase their ticket via southwest.com, please call us at 1-800-435-9792 to rebook their flight in the original class of service or travel standby (within 14 days of the original date of travel between the original city-pairs) without paying any additional charge."
And THAT is what I decided to throw all of my pre-race anxiety into. The one thing I couldn't control. The weather.
A wise friend suggested that I take deep breaths and try some yoga for relaxation. I invented a new pose: freaking the fuck out sucking my thumb in the fetal position. It calmed me. I needed to give my pose an official yoga name.
One of the docs I work with, Ajay, is a very conservative Indian man. I called him into my office saying "Ajay, I need your help!". "Of course Marisa, what can I help you with?" I told him "I need to know how to say 'freaking the fuck out sucking my thumb in the fetal position' in Sanskrit." A few of the nurses overheard our conversation and gathered around, knowing this scene was going to be good for a laugh. Ajay: "WHAT?!?! I'm sorry, I don't understand. There isn't a word in Sanskrit for that". I told him to get creative and make one up. Then I got on the ground in the fetal position and stuck my thumb in my mouth and said "name THIS!". The nurses were cracking up but he was very serious. "Hmmm, OK, give me a second here." He tried out a few different combinations of words before saying "Ah, OK, got it! Rondad Bal Vajrasaan" which roughly translates to "curled-up crying child". I practiced saying it a few times. Rondad Bal Vajrassan. Curled-up Crying Child. Yup, that was me. My new favorite yoga pose. Rondad Bal Vajrassan.

Visit from Sarah

2012-01-20T11:17:00.000-05:00

My friend Sarah is a bad-ass:

Sarah is an all-around amazing athlete. She telemark skis, white water kayaks, mountain bikes, and in the winter plays ice hockey. She rocks.

Sarah's team, the Growlers (sponsored by Harpoon!), had a game in Concord a few weeks ago. Sarah has traveled to cheer me on at road races and triathlons-- I wasn't missing her hockey game! I went to a handful of college hockey games my Freshman year at U of M but that is the extent of my hockey spectating experience. Wasn't sure what to expect from a masters female hockey league game. I wore a hoodie and a warm coat, brought a huge hot tea, and spent most of the first period trying to figure out which player was Sarah.
Found her:

Best goalie shirt ever:

The Growlers crushed the home team due to their "amazing D" which I think is hockey-speak for defense. Go Growlers! And the game was so much fun-- fast paced and exciting! Looking forward to cheering at another game (hopefully not one that starts at 9:30pm).
After the game Sarah and I went out for a drink with a few of her teammates. Lots of fun. One of the women, Aly, is deaf and I had her watch that Bad Lip Reading video and tell me what Bachmann is actually saying at the end when she's clapping her hands. Aly was totally distracted by Bachmann's face. "Oh my God, what is wrong with her! It doesn't move correctly! She's like a robot! How much Botox did she get?!?!". But, sadly, turns out that Michelle Bachmann did not actually say "fishy poopy pants". Bummer.
Sunday was a nice quiet day on the farm. Whenever Sarah visits we go to Lull Farm and she buys bags of groceries for me to cook up. It's a win-win: I love to cook, Sarah loves to eat my food. Our four-course breakfast took up most of the morning.
Sarah relaxing:

Apple cranberry crisp:

Vicky had two dogs to watch in Philly and wasn't able to come play with us in NH. So instead we Skyped with our coffee for a few hours. Felt just like she was there!

I know my house is cold but a down sleeping bag?

Christmas, or Gratuitous Nephew Videos

2012-01-10T16:51:00.001-05:00

I traveled to Dallas for Christmas with the family this year. Lauren and Carlos moved to Texas about six months ago and since they have the space, the dog, and the child they offered to host. The Rowlson-Sanchez's and I have very different ideas of what it means to host and what it means to celebrate Christmas. I'll leave it at that. But it was a wonderful treat to spend time with my family.
And now, for your viewing pleasure, more videos of Luca than anybody but family will care to watch:
Baking cookies on Christmas Eve:

Like a good Tia I got a two year-old a harmonica and a percussion set for Christmas. You're welcome, Lauren and Carlos.
He figured out the harmonica pretty quickly:

Jingle Bells:

ABCs:

And a few photos:
I made Luca his Christmas stocking:

Trains with my dad Christmas morning:

Lauren and Carlos Christmas morning:

More trains:

I put Luca to work in the kitchen:

2012 is going to be your year...

2012-01-08T18:44:00.002-05:00

Meet Mary:

Mary is my receptionist at work but is also a fantastic and loyal friend. She is far too intelligent to be stuck working in the front of a medical office and needs to go to college (are you reading this Mary!?!?! GO TO COLLEGE!!!) but I am grateful for her every single day. For the past few years Mary has told me, totally unsolicited, "2012 is going to be your year". When I'm in a funk about something "it's all going to come together in 2012". When I'm filling out my requests on the calender "just wait until 2012". No idea where she came up with the whole 2012 thing but she has been stuck on this kick since 2009 or so. Well, looks like that little bruja was right.

2011 was fine. OK. Nothing dramatic happened, just kind of driving sideways without any forward progress. Blah. But 2012 is shaping up to be a very different year. I'm leaving my comfort zone and going for it.

I have a big marathon in six days. This will be my tenth marathon (I've trained for twelve but got injured weeks before one and mom had her hip replaced before another) so while it's nothing new I feel like something is finally clicking. Last January I raced a strong marathon at Disney, setting my current PR and taking away a few lessons about what worked. In April I completed another marathon with disastrous results. Until recently I considered that race a failure but with time and perspective I've been able to take away valuable information about what doesn't work for me. The training plan for this marathon was different than what I was accustomed to and until weeks ago made me extremely (yes, I'm reading Jonathan Safran Foer's new book) uneasy. In the end everything worked out and I'm in fantastic run shape-- the best run shape of my life, honestly. Prior to this race my strategy has been to aim low and expect less. I hesitate to set big goals and risk not achieving them. Safer to set the bar low and give myself as many "outs" as possible to avoid disappointment. Not this time. This time I'm going for it, balls to the wall, a huge big time goal that I'm going to FIGHT for. It's terrifying but also incredibly (damn Jonathan Safran Foer) exciting. I'm ready. This is my race. Comfort zone be damned.

I also have BIG season of triathlons planned and lofty goals. My key race is WAY out of my comfort zone and I kegel just thinking about it. But I'm ready to throw myself into training and commit to the adventure ahead of me. It's new, it's scary, it's big, and I'm all in. Bring it.

But the biggest and most exciting thing about 2012 is this:

I rang in the New Year with somebody very special: Thing 1. SO far out of my comfort zone it's not even funny but I'm also walking around with a silly grin plastered on my face.

2012 is going to be my year.

A Year in Photos

2011-12-30T09:32:00.000-05:00

January:

February:

March:

April:

May:

June:

July:

August:

September:

October:

November:

December:

2011-12-30T09:05:00.001-05:00

Just in case you were wondering, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I'm still here. Work was nutty this fall and we moved (like, we, the employees, did the moving) to a new office space. I'm training for a January marathon. I traveled a few weekends. And I got into a little bit of a funk. BUT, I'm getting back on track and will update this space here. My marathon taper starts on Tuesday and I'll have some more time to write about the past few months and post pictures. For now The Slutcracker will have to do.
I drove to Boston after a 48-hour call shift. Arrived at Lara's house all sleep deprived and in sweats to find that Lara was hosting a nice baby shower for a co-worker. Oops. I made my self useful in the kitchen, apologized profusely for my appearance and crashing the party, and ate more deviled eggs than I care to admit. But how fantastic is this cake?!?!

A nap, a trip to the costume store for New Year's Eve costumes (more on that...), a fifteen mile run, and pre-lube/ dress-up.
We got all slutted out.

Lara's friend Vanessa wrote and directed a burlesque called The Slutcracker four years ago. The first year they did two shows, this year they sold out an entire month of performances at the Sommerville Theater. Lara has been every year (in costume) and went twice this year. The show was fantastic. Really brilliant, actually. They used the original Tchaivosky score but the story was... a little different. The first act was still a holiday house party scene but Drosselmeyer wasn't an uncle, it was Clara's sluttly college friend. And she brought the gift of a purple vibrator. That night, instead of the nutcracker coming to life as the nutcracker/prince guy the vibrator comes to life so one dancer was dressed like a giant purple penis. And instead of the prince and Clara sitting on the throne during the second act, Clara and the vibrator prince were dry humping on a velvet bed. When you think about it the second act was calling out for a burlesque. Each little dance number was a different kind of burlesque act with VERY talented dancers: the Arabian dancers did a great burlesque act with scarves, Tango threesome for the Spanish dance, a very cool routine with lit up hula hoops, the Russian dancers were in point shoes and black pleather tutus (with pasties, that goes without saying) and crops, the Sugar Plum Fairy was a pole dancer (Lara's friend), etc. Great dancing, raunchy fun, dress-up, and booze-- doesn't get much better than that! But I will NEVER be able to watch the regular Nutcracker again.
After the show we decided to go out on the town in our outfits to places that would never expect women dressed like we were.

Note the Irish pub patrons in jeans and sweatshirts behind us.

Three funny videos

2011-12-17T20:31:00.002-05:00

Looking for something to waste a few minutes? Check there three videos out.
First, my nephew Luca walking the dog. It starts out kind of slow but hang in there, the action that starts around the 45 second mark is totally worth the wait:

This one is self explanatory:
http://www.collegehumor.com/video/6648229/siri-argument

I literally shot coffee out of my nose laughing watching this video. Consider yourself warned. The best Bad Lip Reading ever!

I have a real post on the way...

Pumpkinman

2011-09-23T20:36:00.000-04:00

I did the Pumpkinman Sprint Triathlon last year and added it to my "must do again" race list. It's a good one: very well organized, excellent pre-race communication, beautiful course, pumpkin beer and whoopie pies at the finish. Plus this was the first race I ended up on the podium so it's extra special to me. The day that registration opened I signed up. Yes, I'm that anal.

This year I had company. My friend Karin started running last winter. She raced Tough Mudder in May and was looking for the next step. She can run. She rides bikes with her daughter. She swam in high school. Uh Karin, have you ever though about a triathlon? It didn't take much convincing. She bought a very cute bike (named Topaz) and threw herself into all things triathlon. We picked Pumpkinman as her first race.

I packed my car with both race gear and Ladies Weekend supplies very early in the morning. I met Karin at registration and helped her set up her transition area. I get very nervous before races and usually am quiet and serious. I can't stand when people are all chatty right before a race. Karin was cool, calm, and collected-- her pre-race energy was the perfect balance to my, uh, not so collected energy.

We both got in a quick warm-up swim and waited for our waves. Karin was in the 6th wave and I was in the 8th. She got right up to the front of the pack and lined up with the fastest swimmers. Go Karin! (My first few races I was as far out of the thrashing throng as possible.) And then it was my turn. I lined up front and center, ready to swim hard and get away from the pack. In the end I just swam kind of moderate-ish, nothing fast or furious or impressive. But I didn't have any MAJOR freak-outs so guess that's a good thing.

This race has an extra element: a post-swim, pre-T1 hill climb. Ugh. Nothing like trying to stumble up a wet grassy hill with a wetsuit half on your body, then try to get the damn thing off when your heart is beating out of your chest.

A quick-ish transition and then off on the bike. I was in the final wave so my goal was not to get passed by anybody. I didn't. In fact, I passed lots and lots of others. My ride wasn't as fast or as powerful as I hoped but it wasn't a fast course-- rolling hills, lots of turns, and some sections of very rough and nasty pavement. I wanted my legs to burn and hate me by the end of the ride. They were mildly annoyed.

Another transition, this one slow-ish, and off on the run. The course is rolling but more downhill the first half and uphill the second so I watched my average pace get slower... and slower... until the flat loop around transition and the steep grassy downhill to the finish line where I picked up a little speed.

I felt really good at the finish. Probably a little too good. I took a couple of deep breaths, handed in my chip, then effortlessly jogged up the hill to cheer Karin across the finish line. (Probably should haven't been THAT effortless to run right after a race). Karin looked fantastic coming down the hill. Her first words after finishing were "that was so much fun!". Yeah!!!

Karin and her kids:

I knew I had a strong race but couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the posted results: I was the third overall female. Not third in my age group, third OVERALL!

I believe this is what's called a shit-eating grin:

The BIG podium!

I won a cool granite plaque and money! Like, a real prize!

I ate my whoopie pie, said goodbye to Karin, and headed to Boston for Ladies Weekend with the shit-eating grin plastered on my face.

Ladies Weekend

2011-09-23T12:36:00.000-04:00

Three years ago my friends and I started the tradition of a ladies weekend in September. No partners, no kids (unless they are breastfeeding), just the ladies. I look forward to this weekend all year. These ladies are not just friends, they are my family and I love them more than anything. We know each other better than we know ourselves. We talk about everything... and nothing at all. And we LAUGH!

This year we met up at Lara's new apartment in Cambridge. Tiffany and Jill were new (and welcome!) additions to the usual crew of me, Vicky, Kelly, Lara, and Sarah.

Saturday evening we got dressed up and went to The Donkey Show, a disco drag interactive version of Midsummer Night's Dream. Kelly's sisters Shannon and Courtney joined us for the festivities.

Getting ready for a big night out is almost as much fun as the actual night out. We made cocktails, blasted ABBA, chose boas and accessories, and made each other up.

Lara is the false eyelash expert:

It was Tiffany's birthday so Lara got her a special VIP ticket. The drag king handed her two glow sticks so the dancers could find her in the crowd. She held them up like, where do I put them? Oh, I know where they go:

VIP:

We danced and danced and danced. I haven't had that much fun in a very long time.

Forest "fairies":

This is my favorite picture of me and Kelly:

Somehow I ended up with Tiffany's glow sticks at the end of the night:

Happy ladies:

Random Summer Pics

2011-09-23T12:22:00.000-04:00

Summer is officially over but here are a few random pics that I never got around to posting.

Kelly, Dave, and Isla came to visit in July. Isla met the horses:

She loved the cat's laser pointer and kept shining it on Dave's neck saying "this won't hurt Daddy":

We went to Maine with my parents, who were also visiting. These are pics from my Dad's camera. He likes the action shots. I'm also eating in all three of these pictures:

This was the day I looked like Chunk from Goonies with sun poisoning:

Later that week my parents and I went to Acadia for a long weekend.
Another Dad action shot at an art show:

Acadia:

Amazing dinner:

Birthday sunrise on Cadillac Mountain:

I took my parents to Berry Good for some blueberries:

Blueberry crisp ready for the oven:

My friend Lara had a ladies night pool party at her house in August. I was on call but managed to sneak away for a few hours and had a blast:

If anybody has any tips for bicycle cue sheets, let me know. This is what my legs looked like for most of August:

My parents bought me a new computer chair to replace the very broken stool-thing I'd been using for years. Tilly approves.

Staycation

2011-09-03T16:33:00.006-04:00

I scheduled a week of August vacation many months ago. The original plan was to go the cottage in MI. I usually try to visit the last week of July but the timing didn't work out this year. I figured the week after Timberman would be perfect. This summer was a good one but I felt like I just ran from one thing to another. I sat on my deck, like, twice all summer. My house was a mess. I was mentally and physically exhausted.

A few weeks ago I changed plans and decided to take a staycation. I felt guilty about it-- if I wasn't going out of town there wasn't a reason to miss work. Plus, my parents had things they wanted to do with me in MI. Turns out it was the smartest thing I've done in a long time. (And, in the end, it rained the entire week in MI, my sister moved so my parents went to Chicago to visit, and Irene that would have seriously messed with my return flight).

I didn't just sit around. I'm a Rowlson, after all, it's not in our DNA. I got lots accomplished but also took care of myself. I was totally selfish. I didn't speak to a single person from Sunday until Friday. I didn't wear underwear and stayed in the same clothes. I smiled for a week straight.

My week:

I recovered from Timberman. I did a few easy bike rides for fun and swam without time goals. I ran in a hurricane for the sheer pleasure of it.

I went to yoga classes.

I knit.

I took naps.

I got my house back in order. Tilly helped me fold laundry:

I read four books: Return of the Good Squad, The Hunger Games, Catching Fire (part two of The Hunger Games trilogy), and Training and Racing with a Power Meter. Told you I have diverse taste.
I did craft projects. I made two tea coaster sets from the September issue of Martha Stewart.

and a new yoga bag:

I went to the beach

and watched a storm blow in over the ocean

I picked a flat of raspberries:

and stocked up on produce at the farmers market:

I turned 50+ lbs of August's finest

into roasted tomatoes, dried tomatoes, and lots of tomato sauce:

frozen fruit for smoothies and a case of raspberry peach jam:

I had happy hour every afternoon and sat on the deck with a cocktail in hand.

I got my garden in order. The groundhog ate most of my produce and tore up the paths for her nest so the space was a mess of weeds and bolted greens. I weeded the paths, tended the beds, and planted a fall crop of cooler weather greens, radishes, and lettuces.

I went out to dinner with a group of ladies and laughed for hours. (I did shower and change my clothes for that).

I painted my toenails. Twice.

I cooked delicious meals from fresh seasonal produce.

I can't remember the last time I felt that light, rested, and genuinely happy. I was sick with the thought of going to work but now that I'm back to the grind it's like I never left. Sigh. Only one year until my next staycation... let the countdown begin.

Yoga

2011-08-30T11:14:00.000-04:00

A few years ago my friend Erin introduced me to Bikram Yoga. I didn't think yoga would be for me. I have no flexibility, no grace, cannot dance or follow anything that resembles dance moves (like cardio classes), and cannot shut my mind off and just be still. But I really liked those first few Bikram sessions. The warmth helped my super tight muscles and the strength/balance moves targeted areas of my body I never thought about. It was a fantastic workout but I didn't like getting yelled at. The instructors, especially one named Dan, were militant and YELLED at us for the entire 90-minutes. I spent my final class glaring at him and realized Bikram (and Dan) weren't for me.
I did see how yoga could help me, though. I need to work on flexibility, especially when I'm running higher mileage. The strength moves help my hips, lower back, and all of the little muscles that I ignore. And the balance moves-- well, clearly I need to work on those. And the most amazing thing: every now and then, for just a few seconds, my mind quiets. No voices, no multitasking, no list making. Serene peaceful quiet.
I have some yoga DVDs at home and pop one in from time to time. I enjoy my time with Rodney Yee but usually find an excuse to do something else at the last minute. I'm lucky if Rodney and I hang out a few times a month.
In April I noticed NH Power Yoga studio on the drive home from work. Convenient. I dropped in for a class on Easter and loved it. The studio is clean and light. No walls of mirrors like Bikram. Hot but not suffocating. The classes are NOT for beginners. The instructor stood in the front of the room and called out poses. Luckily I knew most of them by name but can't imagine what a newbie would do. The majority of class was spent doing standing poses with a little core work and some mat poses at the end. I got in a great workout and for a few seconds my mind was quiet.
I drop in for classes when I can but with work, training, and summer madness I haven't had much free time. I used up my ten class pass a few days before it expired. But last week I had a staycation and a big race to recover from. Monday my body was a wreck. Tuesday I was sore but functional so I went to yoga. Good call. I couldn't do any of the moves that involved hip strength or hamstring flexibility but felt much, much better after those 90 minutes. I went back on Thursday. And Friday. And Saturday. And was planning a class on Sunday until Irene blew in and shut NH down.
I can't even begin to explain how helpful that week of yoga was. I quickly recovered from my race and was able to do more intense poses every class. I went from a few seconds of a quite mind to minutes at a time. That combination of strength and calm is worth seeking out.
The only problem with yoga is, frankly, the other people. Tuesday I was distracted by a group of women discussing their rebirthing experiences and about "waiting for answers to come through yoga". Thursday I noticed that every single woman in the front row was wearing the same Lululemon top in a different color. Then I figured out most were wearing outfits costing over $150. To yoga. Where all you really need is something to hold your boobs in place and bottoms that don't ride up. (I wear running tanks and a pair of old capris.) Saturday I got stuck behind a guy who farted... often. Silent but deadly and with the heated room it was especially nasty. I made a mental note not to be near him in another class.
I was my usual nomad self and showed up to classes with a purse, a mat in a bag, and a separate bag for my face towel, non-skid mat towel, water bottle, Nuun, and post-workout dry clothes. On my third class I decided I needed a new system. A big sturdy bag with a nice wide strap that had a space for my mat, a water bottle holder, and a pocket for my keys and wallet. And, because why not, a spot for my clean dry things and another for my wet skanky things. Problem is, this bag doesn't exist. At least not that I could find (or afford). So I made my own.
Wide strap:

Cinch strap for HUGE yoga mat/wet stuff compartment:

Water bottle holder:

Little pocket for wallet, keys, etc:

Big pocket for clean dry things:

I like it.

Irene

2011-08-28T19:25:00.000-04:00

Today I got to meet Irene. The Weather Channel has been talking her up for so long that I couldn't help but be prepared. I secured all of my outdoor furniture. I moved the car as close to my house (and as far away from trees) as possible. I lose power often and am at the end of a line so I'm usually one of the last to get it back. I had my candles and matches and flashlights and oil lantern laid out, bottles filled with water, a bucket of water next to the toilet for flushing, and a pot of hot tea in a cozy for the evening.

She wasn't a hurricane by the time she made it to NH, just a tropical storm. I woke up early and took care of as much as I could that involved electricity: a shower, coffee, a sewing project, breakfast, and a second breakfast. They canceled my yoga class so I hunkered down and waited for the power too go out. The lights started flickering at ten and were off at noon. So I went for a run.

The weather was wet and windy but not horrible. I've ran in much worse (ice storms, the half marathon during hurricane Hannah, hail, etc). It was a good time to survey the damage.
Lots of crap on the ground:

This river is not supposed to be here:

More debris (and note, this is the hill I have to run UP at the end of every single run):

Some trees down:

A live wire that set debris on fire (went the other direction when I saw this):

I put on dry clothes, lit the candles, and settled in for a long dark afternoon:

Tilly wasn't concerned:

The power just came back on, the rain stopped, and the wind is dying down. Much better than I expected. Whew!

One Year Later

2011-08-23T22:56:00.000-04:00

Just for fun, this is last year after the swim at Timberman

And this year after the swim at Timberman

Oh what a difference. Thanks to everybody who helped me this year!

Timberman is my Bitch

2011-08-22T17:35:00.001-04:00

I raced Timberman 70.3 in 2010 and didn't do so well. I gave up on the swim, got passed like I was standing still on the bike, and gave up at mile 8 of the run. I was violently ill after the race from fueling mistakes. My finish time was slower than I hoped for but mostly I was mad at myself for all of the negative self-talk and how easily I folded.

This year I was back for a rematch, me vs. Timberman. I had a time goal but my biggest goal was to fight to the finish and stay in control of my mind. I am a much better triathlete now than I was at this time last year: my swim has improved dramatically and I'm getting a handle on my OWS issues, I am much faster on the bike and my handling skills are slightly better, my run is slowly improving, I am stronger and fitter and two clothing sizes lighter, and I have more experience. On paper things looked good.

I checked my bike on Saturday and was all business. No playing at the expo this year. It was in and out and back home to rest. Sunday morning I arrived super early and got my transition all set up, then sat in the shade under a tree and sipped my sports drink and peed in my wetsuit a million times. My friend Sarah drove from VT to cheer (THANK YOU Sarah!!!) and I handed her my camera and phone before heading in the water for a quick warm up swim.

My bike is somewhere in that mess:

Watching a swim wave take off:

More than a little nervous here:

I decided to try something different with the swim. I usually start in the back and far to the outside. This year I was going for it and lined up in the front close to the buoys. That's me in the farthest right corner:

I felt calm and ready standing in the water. They started the countdown and I said to myself, "Timberman is my bitch". Then the horn sounded and were were off. I'm right next to the buoy, one of the first in my wave to start the swim.

My plan for the swim was to stay in control. I swam a very easy pace but didn't have even the slightest hint of panic-- a first for me. I sighted well, kept an easy steady pace, and even kicked at somebody who was being a little aggressive with me. I rounded the final turn and thought this is it? I'm really almost done? I can keep going for a long time! I could have swam much faster but that wasn't my goal. I finished in exactly the time I planned, almost 10 minutes faster than last year, and am excited to see what will happen in the next race when I do push the pace!

T1 was a non-issue. There were not many bikes missing from my rack which confirmed that I had a solid swim. Got my wetsuit stripped, shoes on, sunglasses on, helmet on, belt on, and off to the mount line with Dulce.

Saw Sarah as I was heading out on the bike, she got a picture of my butt:

My plan for the bike was to ride with a steady effort, spinning up the hills and powering down them, finding speed where I could. Could not have gone more differently than last year. I passed people the entire ride and only got passed by big guys with disc wheels. Felt amazing to say "on your left!" over and over. I had a slight negative split, kept my power exactly where I was supposed to, averaged over 20mph on that hilly course, and finished 30-minutes faster than last year.

Running with Dulce into T2 I noticed there were very few bikes racked in my row. Another uneventful transition: change of shoes, grab the Garmin and hat and gels and salt tabs, and off I go!
I started having GI issues with my first sip of sports drink on the bike and knew the run was going to be tough. I had stabbing stomach cramps and vomit burps. My quads were still strong but my calves started cramping way too early in the run. I held back for the first leg hoping my stomach would settle. It didn't. Around mile five I stopped in a porta-potty thinking maybe that would help. It didn't and I probably lost a minute there. I kept taking in nutrition and it stayed down but the stomach cramps prevented me from running the pace I had planned. Mile six I let a thirty-second-long fart rip and that helped a little. I ran a slight negative split, passing more people on the second leg. I never picked my pace up to my race plan but long races are like that-- adapt and go with it. I did keep in control of my mind the entire time. I stayed focused, positive, and talked to myself out loud (sorry to those around me).

My time goal for the race was 5:25:--. I looked at the clock when I went out for the second loop of the run but couldn't do the math while racing and trying not to vomit. I entered the shoot and saw the clock at 6:00:--. I started 40-minutes into the race... which meant I was going to beat my goal! I kicked it to the finish and passed when the arch read 6:00:57. Five-fucking-twenty baby!!!

I broke down and started crying, standing there with my head in my hands and tears streaming down my face while other athletes bumped into me. I walked up to Chrissie Wellington and she put my medal around my neck. I told her I thought she was amazing and she gave me a big (really felt genuine!) hug and told me congrats, then saw my tears and said that I was amazing and hugged me again.

Found Sarah at the end of the finishers shoot, gave her a hug, and just stood there. I couldn't believe that I did exactly what I set out to do. Last year Timberman beat me, this time I won. I called Ange from the finishers shoot, then kind of wandered in a fog. Got my morning clothes bag, found a porta-potty, and lost Sarah many times even though she was never more than a few steps from me.
What was my finishing time?

I had a few sips of Coke, ate a handful of salty chips, took a nice long soak/bath in the lake, and changed into a clean outfit. The soak in the lake was key-- soothed my muscles and got rid of the race stank. I'll have to remember that for the future.

A severe storm was forecasted to hit around 3:30pm so they shut down the finishers area and re-routed all runners still on the course. That meant that a whole lot of slower athletes didn't get to do the full 70.3 miles. I heard one runner argue when they told her to head to the finishers shoot instead of out for her second lap but in the end she followed the rules and cut her race short.

I'm stiff and sore today but not injured or blistered. The official results list my finishing time as 5:21:01 which really pisses me off, I clearly crossed the finishing mat when the clock read 6:00:5-. I know it's only a few seconds but it makes the difference in a 5:20 finish and a 5:21 finish. I am thrilled with how my race went and pretty proud of myself. Thank you Ange for your coaching and guidance and support. Timberman is my bitch. And the best part: I know I can go a lot faster next time.

Harpoon Point to Point

2011-08-20T18:23:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday I drove to Vermont for the Harpoon Point to Point Ride, a fundraiser for the Vermont Food Bank. It's really a party disguised as an athletic event. Sarah and I did the short ride last year on a whim and had an absolute blast. We agreed it needed to become an annual tradition.

The ride has three options: a century, a 50-miler, and a 25-miler. All rides end at the Harpoon brewery in Windsor at a BBQ kegger with live music and grassy slopes and Adirondack chairs in the shade. We decided on the least effort for the party and did the short ride. (I did my actual workout before the Harpoon ride).

Sarah isn't exactly a road cyclist but is a talented all-around athlete: ice hockey, mountain biking, telemark skiing, white water kayaking. We met up in the parking lot and she announced that the last time she got her roadie out was last year for this event... then asked how to shift. Ummmm.... But it took her about 30 seconds to remember how to ride a bike and we were off!

The course is beautiful: little towns, farms, rolling Vermont landscapes. The hills seemed much smaller than last year and I was able to fly down the winding descent that had me in tears last year.

Rest stop:

We crossed the finish line and were handed our pint glasses. I love this ride:

And now for the real event:

Sun poisoning in July = cowgirl hat in August:

Snagged the good chairs:

We spent the afternoon drinking cold beer, eating BBQ, listening to music, and talking to other riders. At one point we decided we needed a sweet course (they didn't have dessert this year) and texted Sarah's friend who brought us three different kinds of cookies. Does life get any better than that?

This is a fantastic event for a good cause. I'm already excited for next year.

Happy Birthday Lil' D

2011-08-20T12:34:00.000-04:00

I am very lucky to be a Tia and Auntie to many, many little ones (one biological). I adore all of my nieces and nephews but this little guy has a very special place in my heart. Daniel Jr, aka Lil'D, is the son of my friend and co-worker Angie. At 36 weeks of pregnancy we found out that Lil'D had a serious birth defect: a left congenital diaphragmatic hernia. That means that he had a hole in his diaphragm and his intestines were in his chest where his lungs should be. Babies with this condition have tiny underdeveloped lungs, hearts that don't pump well because they are shifted in the chest, and significant GI issues. I was a NICU nurse before I was a midwife and took care of many babies with CDH. Some babies made excellent recoveries, some had serious complications, and some didn't survive.

Lil'D was a sick little boy when he was born:

His surgery was successful and Lil'D charmed the nurses during his months at Children's Hospital in Boston. He came home with a NG tube for continuous night-time feeds. Danny is a smart kid and quickly discovered how to pull the tube out. Angie and her husband Danny drove to my house late at night so I could replace the NG tube.

Two years later, Lil'D is a thriving, happy, energetic little man. He is completely unaware of his dramatic entrance into the world.

There are cars on my cake!

Camryn, one of my "nieces":

Weeeee!

Happy Birthday Lil'D!

Solved!

2011-08-20T12:07:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, in one of those ohmygodwhatasmallworld moments, I met Stacey. We chatted on the TriMoxie Facebook page last Spring and e-mailed a few times but had not met in person. We started talking about my homemade headband on a street in New York and then made the connection. Love when things like that happen!

We had lunch together and talk turned to triathlon. She is a kick-ass swimmer and teaches triathlon swimming. I told her about my struggles with open water swimming and how I couldn't figure out what was causing my panic. She didn't hesitate: "It's the openness and lack of boundaries. In the pool we have lane lines, walls, and feet in front of us. In the open water we have no boundaries." Hmmmmm... my freak outs aren't related to water temperature, color, depth, or other swimmers but I never thought about walls. She said to make my own boundaries, never looking farther than the tip of my hand or the feet of the person in front of me. I could have kissed her! Nobody else had presented it like this!

To make a small world even smaller, Stacey's parents live a few miles from me in NH. She had a short trip planned in August so we met up at Baboosic Lake (very early in the morning!) for a swim.

This beautiful lake is less than a mile from me:

I invited my friend Karin to join us-- the more, the merrier! And it turns out Karin and Stacey grew up miles from each other so they played six degrees of separation.
Karin and Stacey showed up with suits and goggles. I brought a wetsuit, a bright yellow swim cap, and a floatie to drag behind me. I asked Karin and Stacey if they had water wings for their kids in their cars (totally would have worn them).
Stepping into the water my anxiety started: my wetsuit was choking me, I couldn't breathe, blah blah blah. Stacey said "just follow my feet" so I did. And guess what-- no panic!!! Not a bit! I was even able to push the pace a little and actually swim instead of my usual paddle, glide, freak out, repeat.
This was my first time swimming with company and what a difference. We floated for a minute and watched the sunrise over the glassy water. I didn't just endure the swim or survive the swim, I enjoyed the swim! I can actually foresee a day when I don't hate and dread OWS, something I never would have imagined.
Stacey had to leave for home that afternoon but Karin and I met the next day (before sunrise) for another swim:

I didn't have any feet to follow but tried to make my own boundaries and look only at the tips of my fingers. Not 100% panic free but pretty darn close.
I feel so much more in control knowing what the issue is and having some tools to help. Fingers crossed I can find some feet in my next race.
Thanks Stacey!

Lord of the Flies

2011-08-06T10:00:00.000-04:00

About a month ago I raced three events in the Black Fly Triathlon Festival: the bike TT on Friday night, the International Distance Tri on Saturday, and the Sprint Distance Tri on Sunday. Complete all three and you're a Lord of the Flies. The weekend also included a Firefly 5K and a huge kids race which I sat out. It's a great weekend-- very well organized races, beautiful area, and an interesting test of endurance and recovery.

I did these races last year and had a blast but brought up the very back of the pack on the TT and the back of the middle of the pack in the triathlons. This year turned out a little differently: two podium finishes and second place overall Lord of the Flies in my division.

I never got around to writing a full race report and now the races are a distant memory. So here are some pics from the weekend.

TT on Friday:

Saturday morning:

No tears exiting the water this time:

During the run on Saturday:

International distance finish:

Third place female 30-34

Post-race carbo load at Polly's:

These gals did the kids race. Note the aero helmets made from cereal boxes:

View of the swim course on Saturday evening:

Finish area Saturday evening:

Run on Sunday:

Lord of the Flies!

Lord of the Snow Pile:

Second place Lord in my age group:

Bags

2011-08-04T20:46:00.002-04:00

It seems that I live out of bags. I would make a great nomad. Every day I carry a purse, a lunch bag, a work bag, and at least one exercise-related bag into work. That's if I'm not on call. If I'm staying for a 24-hour shift I also have my laptop, a knitting project in it's own bag, extra food, my foam roller, an outfit for the morning, and random to-do things for the day (bills to mail, etc). My office mate makes me spin around and he counts the bags before I can set them down.
I need to keep everything tidy. It's too much to figure out what to pack early in the morning or late at night. I have everything I need for every type of workout in it's own bag. I even went to Target and stocked up on three sets of powder/eyeliner/mascara/chapstick. I live one broken zipper away from total chaos.
The bags are all lined up in my hallway. When I come home I take that day's bag into the bathroom, dump out the sweaty nastiness or hang up the towel and bathing suit up, and set the bag on the dryer or the floor.

Later I repack the bag and put it back in it's place in the hallway lineup.
My parents visited last week and Mom commented about how many bags I had by the front door. Little did she know I had some stuffed in a closet and hidden in the trunk of my car.
Is this a problem?

Pool swim bag containing two suits, two caps, two pairs of goggles, paddles, finger lap-counter-timer-thingy, hair dryer (that's never been used), towel, spare bra/undies/socks (I've forgotten each of those at some point and had very long days at work without them), baggies for workouts, spare index cards, flip flops, a water bottle, a gel, a lock, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, deodorant, and a make-up bag.

Master's swim bag containing one suit, one cap, one pair of goggles, a pull buoy, a kick board, fins, flip flops, a towel, a water bottle, recovery drink powder, Nunn tablets, sunscreen, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion.

Outdoor water swim bag containing a bright yellow cap, two pairs of goggles, one suit, a towel, flip flops, sunscreen, a dry-bag-floatie-boat-warning-thing to drag, and a wet suit.

Bike bag containing shoes, helmet, whispy band, sunglasses, butt butter, gel, HR monitor, gloves, arm warmers, toe covers, and chapstick. (This one actually hangs over the handlebars of my bike, not in the hallway lineup).

Gym bag containing a lock, a water bottle, Nunn, a whispy band, iPod ear buds, a spare pair of socks and sports bra, a workout outfit for the day with appropriate footwear, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, make-up bag, and flip flops for the shower.

Yoga bag containing a water bottle, Nunn, whispy bands, the rubber-backed towel for over my mat, and a t-shirt and shorts for after class. My yoga mat is in it's own bag in the trunk of my car.

This is a brand new bag I got for my birthday. It will replace my old gym bag (the lining in that one is torn to shreds) but will probably also be a weekend travel bag and an on-call bag.

I'm totally OK with this.

New Scrubs

2011-08-02T22:10:00.000-04:00

When I'm on call I wear hospital scrubs. Every unit has their own scrubs in a unique color stamped with the unit name so we are easily identifiable: OR staff wears green, anesthesia light blue, L&D royal blue. The scrubs on my unit were getting very skanky, often worn so thin there were holes in the tops and bottoms so shrunken they were floods. We never had enough of the right sizes. There always seemed to be plenty of XXL tops and small bottoms but not much else in between. The royal blue color is now discontinued so our unit got brand new scrubs in a brand new color: tealish-bluish-greenish. I'm not a big person but I'm not super tiny either. I usually wear a medium bottom and a small top since I don't like the bottoms too tight but don't want the v-neck top gaping at the neck. The new sizes are, well, interesting. This is the small:

The longest crotch ever:

I look like a teenager in pajamas at work most days and these gigantic scrubs are not exactly making me look more professional. It is somehow reassuring that in the event of an emergency I could get by without a scrub top:

Wear a hat next time

2011-07-28T22:32:00.000-04:00

Saturday I spent five hours standing on concrete in the sun without a hat. I'm an idiot. When I left for the day it wasn't crazy hot. I put on a little sunscreen but didn't slather my entire body or bring head protection. Again, I'm an idiot. About ten minutes into my five-hour shift I knew I was in trouble. Hindsight is 20-20.

I spent the rest of Saturday running around and all of Sunday in the blazing sun. Sunday afternoon I had a headache. Sunday evening I had chills. Sunday night I had squishy pitting edema on my scalp. Uh oh. Sun poisoning.

Monday morning I had pitting edema the top of my forehead near my scalp and had to loosen up my running cap.

Monday evening:

Tuesday morning I went for an easy bike ride. Over the course of ninety minutes my field of vision became smaller and smaller. When I got back home:

Looking like Avatar here.

I felt like shit but had a house full of company so sucked it up, put on sunglasses and a hat, and played hostess/ tour guide.

The hat and glasses were very, very necessary:

Eyes swollen shut, looking like Chunk from Goonies.

Wednesday I had a very long, very busy day at work. I could see again but my eyes and face were still swollen and distorted. I looked more like somebody with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome than Avatar or Chunk which I guess was an improvement. My receptionist informed me that the giant squishy bags under my eyes felt like ball sacks. I guess it was payback for teasing her mercilessly about shaving off half of her eyebrow last year. Karma's a bitch.
Wednesday night I felt a little better and finally snapped out of my fog. Integrative medicine is one of my specialities! I could fix this! I popped a shitload of Arnica, put cool chamomile tea bags over my swollen eyes, and massaged a calendula salve into the flaking skin on my forehead. It worked. Today I just look tired and hungover. I'll take it. And I'll never leaving the house without a hat again.

2011-07-20T05:25:00.000-04:00

These next two weeks are going to be BUSY! Busy in a good way, but super super busy. They will put my time management skills to the test.
I live by lists. I write them on scraps of paper, on the wipe off board on my fridge, on the TWO scratch pads I have on my desk at work (one smaller, one bigger with lines), on the sticky note program on my computer, on my Google calender, on my iPhone... I've been know to write lists on toilet paper when I'm going to the bathroom at work. But this week my lists have gone to the next level: they include times. Like, car inspection 8:45-9:15.
It's a month until my next big race so my training is a little more intense. I'm going out of town this weekend and have lots to do to prep for that. My parents are arriving for a ten day vacation while I'll still be out of town so everything has to be ready for them when they get here, then I'll need to juggle work and workouts and New England adventures. Kelly and Dave and Isla are on a grand New England tour and will also be visiting next week.
I'm looking forward to the weekend away and friends and family visiting. It's going to be a fantastic few weeks. I just might need some new post-its in August.

Climb to the Clouds

2011-07-19T12:59:00.000-04:00

On Sunday I did a group ride put on by the Charles River Wheelmen called Climb to the Clouds. It was the name of the ride that sold me. I want to climb to the clouds!
I usually ride my bike solo. I did one other group ride back in early 2009, the Ride to Read. I figured it was like a group run: show up and run with other people. Didn't know you were expected to show up with friends or a team to ride a paceline with and that riders weren't super friendly or welcoming to newbies who didn't know any better than to arrive solo. Lesson learned.
One of the guys from TriFury sent out a message about this ride two weeks ago. 48-100 mile options with lots of climbing and a few water stops. I had a 3:15 ride scheduled that day so the 62 mile option fit perfectly. A total of ten TriFury members signed up. Dave was the unofficial organizer and sent out an e-mail with everybody's name, expected ride distance, and phone number.
The 100 milers met up with the 48 and 62 milers a little before 9:00 and we were off. The course was wonderful-- well maintained roads, stunning views, and very challenging climbs. TriFury regrouped at a convenience store about an hour into the ride and then again at the top of Mount Waschusett.

Then I did something that takes real talent: I got lost on a group ride. And even better, I didn't figure it out for a while.
The descent from the mountain was fast. I hate fast descents, especially when I don't know the turns in the road or location of stop lights. Clearly I was too terrified to pay attention and went straight through a light where I should have turned left. The road was downhill with little ribbon candy-type hills that made it tough to see more than a few hundred feet ahead. Lots of fast descending. At some point I noticed I wasn't being passed on the hills (I am ALWAYS passed on downhills). Turned around and didn't see a single other rider. Then realized there weren't any other riders in front of me. As a midwife, when you are doing an exam during labor and feel a butt you try to make it into a head. Hmmm, maybe it's caput? Maybe that's a mouth? You KNOW it's breech but still try to make it a cephalic. That's what happened on the ride. Maybe they are on the other side of these ribbon candy hills and I'll see them when I get to the top... or the bottom... or the top... Maybe I'll just pull over and wait for the next group to meet up. I waited for a good minute before I admitted I was lost. Shit. I called Dave and left him a voicemail, figuring he'd check his phone at the next aid station. Then I turned around and climbed back up that hill. For miles. And when I got to the intersection I saw a steady stream of riders turning left where I went straight. The turn was well-marked and not at all subtle. Can't believe I missed it. Ah well. Good time or a good story.

Rejoined the ride and hoped my TriFury teammates wouldn't have to wait too long for me at the next aid station. Clearly I didn't need to worry-- when I arrived not a single TriFury person was there. Checked my phone to see if anybody had called or texted to see if I was OK. Nada. Hmmmm. Filled up my bottles and headed back out, a little pissed and a little hurt. Maybe I'd catch up with them at the final aid station? Again, nobody from TriFury. Shit. Now I was PISSED. Finished up the ride and pulled into the parking lot where I was parked next to two other TriFury members. Their cars were already gone. No note on my windshield. No message on my phone. I was fuming. I was only lost but what if I had crashed or got sick from the heat? Some teammates.

Aid station:

Like a good triathlete I put my bike in the car and changed for a transition run. Dropped trou right there in the parking lot. If some sicko tried to catch a glimpse of my butt butter-covered pubic hair or ass that spent 3+ hours in sweaty bike shorts I hope they learned a valuable lesson. The run was HOT but my legs felt fresh and I had plenty of rage for fuel.

I fumed for most of the ride home. Later that day I got an e-mail from Dave that was blank but the subject was "You OK?". E-mail!?!?!?! But at least he checked in. The rest of my team just left me. Clearly not the right team for me. I've driven to Boxford for two group swims and both times ended up swimming alone. The group decided to start early and didn't put it out on the list serve. (Robin did call me after the second swim to make sure I was OK, which I really appreciated). Then this. It just puts a bad taste in my mouth. I'm defecting from TriFury. Not that anybody will notice. I'll be a team of one for a while. At least I know I've got my back.

Whispy Bands

2011-07-18T07:04:00.001-04:00

I wear my whispy bands all the time. Like, every second I'm not at work. I wear them with my hair down, with a pony tail, with a bun, under a bike helmet, at yoga.... all the time. I made a big batch last year but they are getting kind of skanky beat up. Tilly ate the elastic out of one.

And I had requests from three people for whispy bands.
I MIGHT have gone a little overboard here. A little.
Lauren wanted a black headband:

Kelly wanted a few for Isla (hope she likes the Nemo one Kelly):

And Kelly wanted some:

Kelly, this one is next up, I ran out of thread:

And for me:

Out of thread but soon to be finished:

Since I wear whispy bands under my bike helmet I thought it would be fun to match the headband to the bike. I know, it's what I do alone in the evenings.
For Ruby:

And for Dulce:

Crush

2011-07-12T13:32:00.001-04:00

I was ambivalent about the weekend of racing. My open water swimming still has a lot of room for improvement and last year I was nearly dead last in the bike time trial. I went back and forth about doing the races. Then I waited too long to cancel the hotel so I went back and forth about wearing the timing chip or not. On Thursday Ange sent me a pre-race e-mail telling me to pretend I was Dory in the water and just keep swimming, just keep swimming. I wrote back that I was feeling more like a paranoid Marlin but would try to summon my inner happy-go-lucky Dory or easy going Crush before the weekend. She wrote back, "be Crush!".
Saturday morning I lined up with the other 500 athletes to start the swim. Walking into the water I thought of Crush and told myself takin' on the jellies. You're got serious thrill issues and laughed out loud. I was so caught off guard by that line from Nemo randomly entering my head that I didn't even think about the swim start. OK, that worked, now think of other great Nemo lines and scenes. I replayed the "fish are friends, not food" scene, "you made me ink", and did Squirt's exit strategy speech turning the first buoy. Before I knew it I was 2/3 through the swim!
It wasn't fast and it wasn't pretty but I finished the Saturday swim panic-free. I can't remember my last OWS without panic and have never EVER laughed under water before.
-Crush

Open Water Swimming

2011-07-08T14:07:00.000-04:00

I've been struggling with open water swimming. Like, A LOT.

I grew up playing in Michigan's little lakes and Great Lakes. I was one of those fish kids who would stay in the freezing unheated pool at Harbor Beach shivering with blue lips until somebody made me get out. I never swam real strokes or trained with any swim teams but I played in lakes before I could walk.

I'm not a bad swimmer. In fact, I'm decent. I worked really hard on technique over the winter and now I'm starting to see results. On Thursday I held my own in the 3rd fastest lane (out of four) at swim team practice... with REAL swimmers.

But put me in the open water and it all goes out the window. Panic. Heart racing. I feel like I can't breathe. I can swim for about one minute before I have to stop. One race last year I floated down stream with my head out of the water. One I got up and WALKED the swim because the water was only waist deep. And during a practice swim in chest deep water last summer I was sobbing in my goggles.

It's beyond frustrating. I cannot figure out the reason for the freak outs and I can't figure out how to prevent them. I've never had any bad experiences in water. As far as I can tell the panic has nothing to do with water temperature, depth, color, waves, or how many people are swimming with me. If I can shut off my brain I swim well but as soon as I start thinking again, forget it. Distraction, counting strokes, concentrating on technique, positive self-talk, yelling at myself-- not helpful.

Hopefully this will work itself out with more open water swim practices but it's hard to get out there a few times a week to do something that I'm starting to hate. Dread. Ugh.

I went back and forth about a race this weekend. I was excited for it when I registered but now I'm not so sure it's a good idea. Einstein said "insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results". That's kind of where I'm at right now. In the end I waited too late to cancel the hotel room so I'm doing the races. Trying to get in a positive head space and get psyched about the event... trying.

For fun, here are some race photos of me after the swim.

This was the swim where I never even put my face in the water (it was the Hudson River, cut me some slack):

This is what I thought of my Timberman swim:

My "dear God just kill me now" expression after my latest half ironman:

And Pumpkinman. This swim actually went well but after the swim there is a big hill climb "challenge" and I'm getting a view of the hill for the first time here:

Maine with Sarah

2011-07-06T19:25:00.001-04:00

During a walk in France we started talking about Maine and Acadia. Lara had been to Acadia once, Sarah had never been. The scheduling department at the hospital made an error (in my favor) so I planned a long weekend trip to MDI after Patriot and invited them along. Lara bailed at the last minute but Sarah was still game.

It's only a five hour drive from my house to MDI but somehow I forgot that I was starting from almost two hours South... and that there was a Bruins parade and a Red Sox game happening in Boston on Saturday. I was stiff and tired from my race, still in my grungy race outfit, and stuck in the car for what turned into a seven hour drive. Ugh. And remember all that fluid I chugged after the race? Not a drop of urine from 7am until almost 7pm, then I started diuresing. I only stopped twice but it's a good thing I do Kegals as a reaction to stress and fear.

Pulled up to the Seawall Motel a little before 10pm, checked in, and headed to the only open gas station for a six-pack of cold local beer. Sarah arrived shortly after me and we hung out on the seawall trying to name stars and constellations with frosty beverages.

Monday morning we got an early start. We drank coffee under a tree, then drove to the new breakfast joint in Southwest Harbor, Sea Biscuits Cafe. What a find! Don't tell anybody but it was AMAZING! They even had vegan and gluten free options! I had a platter with black beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, topped with two eggs. Sarah had something equally yummy. Then we shared gluten-free blueberry pancakes with homemade strawberry rhubarb jam.

We only had one full day in Maine so I took Sarah to my favorite spots. We hiked Beech Mountain, then sat for a while and enjoyed the view:

Inversions on warm granite rocks:

I love this place:

The entire island was covered with fields of lupines. Stunningly beautiful:

Next we hiked Acadia Mountain. Sarah was the perfect person to travel with after a race. My legs were tired and would stiffen in the car. It took me a few minutes of limping to loosen up, then I was fine until I sat again. Sarah waited until I was walking normally (but slowly), then would say "I'm going to go on ahead, OK?". Perfect. We both got to enjoy the hikes, me at my glacial pace and Sarah often running, and met up at the top to enjoy the view.

Sarah running:

View from Acadia Mountain. I know I take this same picture every time I come to Acadia but it's just SO BEAUTIFUL:

We stopped for a quick lunch and drove to Sand Beach. Sarah ran along the coast, I rested and enjoyed the sound of crashing waves.

These people were taking some kind of wedding photos in the surf. Huh.

We stopped by the room so Sarah could change out of her running clothes and headed to Thurston's for lobster and and beer.
Beautiful harbor and cold beer:

Yum:

We smelled like lobster, sweat, and ocean but decided to head to town for a drink. Went to Fiddler's Green and found the place nearly empty-- still early in the season, I guess. We sat down at the bar with one other guy who turned out to be a boat captain and a former Navy navigator. Sarah sails and works for the VA so she was thrilled with our company. We talked most of the night. Luckily I had just read a book about the first woman to row a boat across the Atlantic so I wasn't totally lost during discussions about currents and gulf streams and crossings and star charts. Good friends, good drinks, good conversation with cool characters-- fantastic.

Monday morning we drank coffee outside under a tree, then had another amazing breakfast at Sea Biscuit. What a find.
We hiked my favorite trail, Wonderland, to the isolated rocky beach. It was low tide so we checked out the tidal pools:

Then we headed to the ledges on Echo Lake for some napping and swimming. Sarah said traveling with me our days are always saturated but never rushed. I liked the sound of that. Saturated with good experiences.

This is my "you take a picture of me in a bathing suit and I'll throw your shoes in the lake, then promptly delete the photo" face

Sarah dove right into the cool water and swam around. I was still traumatized from my swim at Patriot and decided to, uh, watch our stuff while she swam.

Sarah had to leave early for a hockey game so we said our goodbyes and drove back to the reality. I like Acadia more than the real world.

Tilly

2011-07-05T11:06:00.000-04:00

So I'm having a great time with Tilly. She is super sweet and had a great personality. I'm not sure if this is even possible but she almost has a sense of humor. She is a very different cat than Malachite but is just as much fun to have around.
New chief in town:

She likes to snuggle and takes a running leap onto the couch when I stretch out.

She jumps on my lap when I'm on the toilet. Not sure about that one.
She appreciates toys.

I came home with a bag from Pet Supplies Plus with food and some mice and things. Tilly put her face in the bag, looked around for a minute, carefully selected one mouse and played with it all night.

She takes her toys to the bathroom so they slide across the linoleum floor. I had to get a yardstick to get her toys out from under the washer and dryer.
I cannot knit when Tilly is awake. She gnaws through the yarn.
She thinks the bath mat is a slip-and-slide. I set it down before my shower and she takes a running leap and rides the towel across the room. It ends up in a corner far from the bathtub.
I think she's adjusting pretty well.

Patriot HIM

2011-07-05T09:32:00.000-04:00

My first "A race" of the season was the Patriot Half Ironman in East Freetown, Mass. I did the race last year and even though I had no idea what I was doing I had a blast. This year I had more ambitious goals.
The day before the race I had a huge carboload breakfast:

and then spent the morning on the couch with my feet up. Tilly loved it:

Drove to East Freetown for packet pick-up and checked out the swim course. Not a good sign when you can't SEE the end of the swim (the big buoy is for the sprint race, the little red ones are for the HIM) but the water was 70-degrees and calm.

Empty transition. Like the night before Christmas:

Drove to the Olive Garden in strip mall Hell for dinner. Want to really confuse servers at Olive Garden? Tell them you don't want soup OR salad. "Would like soup or salad?". Me:"Oh, neither, thanks. Just dinner and water.". Server: "But they come with the meal. We can put the dressing on the side if you like?". Me: "No thanks. But I will take the breadsticks". Server, totally confused: "But they COME with the meal!". Me: "No thanks... just white carbs for me... I have a sports thing tomorrow.". Server: "Oh, OK! They teach you to eat pasta before sports, right?". Whew. I didn't want to be all "I have a half ironman tomorrow" but "sports" seemed to do the trick.
A quick bowl of pasta sans salad or soup and I headed to the hotel to check in. Almost every car in the parking lot had a bike rack or some sort of triathlon bumper sticker. Watched a few minutes of TV, knitted a little, laid out my breakfast and morning clothing, and was in bed before 9:00.
Gagged on my pre-race breakfast (I can't seem to chew or swallow anything race morning, especially before 4:00am) and successfully downed almost 600 calories in under 15 minutes. Best not to think about that too much.
Made it to the race site by 5:30 and got myself all set up. Last year I nearly shit my pants when I saw all of the fit athletes with nice bikes in the parking lot but this year I felt a little better. I was even able to help the guy next to me put his number on his bike. Got everything all set on my transition mat, hit the portapotty a few times, and headed to the lake for a nice long warm up.
Here's a pic of me at the end of my swim warm up. I'm in the orange cap eating my pre-race gel and peeing at the same time. I have skills.

My warm-up felt really good. I was calm, swam to the first buoy and back twice, and was ready to race. Then they lined us up like cattle and the nerves kicked in. Here's my wave and the close-up of me. Sheer terror.

The swim didn't go well and I'll leave it at that. I think the "dear God kill me now" look in this pic says it all:

But the bike did go well. Really well. Averaged 19.8mph and had lots of gas left in the tank. And the good thing about having such a shitty swim is that I passed a ton of people on the bike course.

It was a sunny day and the weather was getting very hot and humid. I decided to start the run at a conservative pace and try to hold on. I tried to use the same technique that worked so well for me in Covered Bridges. I'd pick out a person ahead of me and reel them in, sticking with them or passing them and picking another target. I passed many, many runners and only got passed twice. I was working SO HARD in that heat but must have looked OK because I heard things like "you're making that look too easy" or "looking strong" from other runners and spectators. I didn't even have the energy to acknowledge them but appreciated the support. I spent each mile planning my fuel strategy for the next aid station (sports drink? a gel before the station and water at the station? time for more salt tabs?) and grunted out what I needed and a thank you at each one. My calves started cramping at mile 12 and I took the handful of salt tabs left in my pocket. Rounded the corner to the finishers shoot and saw one of the final aquabikers (swim and bike only) jogging to the finish line in the middle of the shoot. Bitch, GET OUT OF MY WAY! I might have thrown an elbow...

Where do my lips go when I race?

Finished!

I had no idea what my finishing time was. I knew my bike time and run time from my watch but had no idea how slow that miserable swim was. The clock read 5:54:-- and I started in wave eight, about 27 minutes after the first swimmers but my tired mind couldn't do the math. My first goal was a PR (done), my second was to break six hours (done), and my secret far-reaching goal was to break 5:45. My time was posted online the next day: 5:27:55. A forty minute PR and a 58 minute course PR, 6th in my division (but would have been 2nd in 35-39!). So happy I forgot about my blistered feet:

Ate a little, drank a lot, and then shuffled to the car for the long drive to Acadia.

Canvas Prints

2011-07-04T13:47:00.001-04:00

While reading One Mom in Maine I saw the beautiful sky canvas in her kitchen and knew I needed something like that-- a big, bright, beautiful skyscape to stare at and brighten a room. Turns out they are super easy to make. Flipping through my photo library on the computer I came across two images that would work well as big canvases:
Sunrise from Cadillac Mountain:

Lupine fields in Maine:

I planned on hanging the sunset canvas over the kitchen table but it turned out so well I decided to put it in the living room where I can see it all the time:

And above the bed:

Summer Reading

2011-07-04T11:50:00.000-04:00

I love to read. I usually have two or three books going at once: a book that I read chunks of on weekends or days off, a book next to the bed that I only make it through a page or two at night before falling asleep, and a book on tape (book on CD downloaded to my iPod, but whatever) for the car. My librarians know my taste and are usually pretty good at suggesting books I'll like. My tastes are pretty diverse-- I hate chick lit and science fiction, am not really into mysteries or suspense, but I really like good fiction, biography, travel stories, and non-fiction. I put a request on Facebook for summer reading recommendations and got about eight suggestions. Woo hoo! I'm almost finished with A Tender Bar (Eric Fisher's recommendation) and am listening to The Immortal Life of Harriet Lacks (Ellen Walker's suggestion) in the car. I have a stack of books that I hope to plow through in the next two weeks: Tinkers, Swim Back to Me, Kitchen, and Secret Ingredients. I'd love more recommendations... hint, hint...

Virus

2011-07-03T10:10:00.000-04:00

So my laptop has a virus called Win7. It's been with The Geek Squad since Wednesday and I haven't heard anything from them yet. Not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one. The tech guy asked what I hoped for and I said I hoped to restore my computer to the way it was the morning of 6/17 (I can tell you the exact second it started acting up). He laughed and said "we'll clean the virus and see if you have anything left to restore". Gee, thanks. I have my data backed up on some online database so I'm not freaking out about losing everything (like last time) but it certainly is inconvenient.
I'll write about my recent half ironman race, Acadia with Sarah, and my new canvas prints when I get my laptop back and have access to my pictures... hopefully I'll be able to get some photos back one way or another.

Nothing too exciting happening here. Work has been brutal for the past few weeks. We had huge layoffs at the office due to State budget cuts (can I just say, New York does something fantastic like legalize gay marriage and NH won't even fund family planning!). Morale at the office has been in the toilet ever since. Everybody is cranky, unhappy, and overworked. And L&D has been insanely busy lately so my call shifts have been tough. I think the dust is finally settling, both in the office and at the hospital, so hopefully this week will be a little smoother.

I spent Friday at Crane Beach. I love it there. Went for a swim in Stiles Pond and picked strawberries on the drive down, then spent most of the day hanging out in the sand. Took a nice long walk in the surf, played in the water, had a picnic, read a book, and napped on the beach. Relaxing and restorative. I put sunscreen on my face, shoulders, and chest but it was partly cloudy and coolish so I didn't go crazy with the SPF everywhere. I fell asleep and woke up on my side in the fetal position under a blazing sun. I am very sunburned in a very interesting pattern. Took a few tries this morning to find a bra that didn't touch fried torso.

I joined a swim team, the Great Bay Masters, and am loving it. When I visited my parents in June I swam at the Farmington YMCA. A graceful and powerful swimmer in the lane next to me invited me to join the YMCA Masters team. I was very flattered but said I was just visiting. I told Ange the story and she asked me if there were any Masters teams (Masters means over 20 years old) around me. I laughed since I'm a new swimmer and many folks on those teams swam in college but the seed was planted. Hate when that happens. After some internet searching and nervous e-mails to the coach I drove to Dover for my first practice last week. I almost turned around and left when I saw twenty fit swimmers doing tight little flip turns in a 50-meter outdoor pool. In the end I didn't make an ass out of myself, held my own in the water, and had a great time. Went back on Thursday, learned butterfly, and was asked to consider swimming in some meets with the team this winter... to which I quickly said "absolutely not" but offered to cheer for the real swimmers.

My parents are coming to visit for a week in July. My dad just called to finalize flight details. He asked if I could get out of work early on Thursday so we can drive to Acadia that night. I said no, that in fact I will probably be very busy on Thursday and will most likely leave the office late. He offered to come and help. "Um, how are you pelvic exams Dad?". His response "I can learn. I'll wear my white coat from my dietetic rotations and nobody will ever know". The scary thing is I'm not sure he's kidding.

Happy Retirement Mom!

2011-06-25T19:50:00.001-04:00

My mom graduated from college on a Thursday and stated work at Ford Motor Company the following Monday. She worked for the same company for 39 years. Blows my mind-- I can't even bring myself to sign a two-year contract at my job! The decision was not easy for her but she finally filed for retirement as of 5/31/11. Congrats Mom! You earned it!

She asked for a party to acknowledge the event, then quickly took her request back. Too late, the cat was out of the bag. Lauren, Jenna, and I flew home. The last time we were all together was for Jenna's wedding in 2009.

And the last time we were all together at my parent's house was December 2005:

My mom was beyond thrilled to have us all home again:

Friday was a travel day and prep-for-the-(secret)-party day. We spent some time together in the backyard, then Dad and I went shopping for food for the party.

Bubbles:

Never too early for Luca to work on his core:

We went out to dinner and laughed over Mexican food and margaritas. Luca had other plans:

Saturday was BUSY. I woke up early to do my long run. Dad spotted me as I was running up the driveway at the end of the run and shouted "ready to go prep the food?". Uh, give me one second. "Can you bring something to eat in the car?" Uh, let me dry the sweat off of my body and change my clothes please.

Walked upstairs to find bath time in progress.

Our childhood rubber duckie-- Luca loved it.

What happens when Tia gets involved with a bath:

Luca, what does a duckie say?

Oops, sorry Dad. Right, food prep. Dad and I headed to the OCC kitchen so mom wouldn't see how much food we were making. Prepped beef tenderloin with caramelized onions and mushrooms, salmon with a fruit salsa, spring veggie potato salad, my sangria, risotto cakes, Lauren's salad, and picked up the cake Dad made earlier in the week. Dad can hustle in the kitchen and he trained me well:

Walked in the door from OCC and everybody was waiting for us, ready to leave for the party. I needed food, something to drink, and a shower... badly. Quick bite, quick drink, quick shower and was good to go.

Lauren and I got Mom a present she has been coveting for a long time. She had no idea. Luca helped her open it:

I think she likes it!:

Drove to Bob and Charlie's house for the party. Mom was still under the impression it was just family. Her friends came down the hill to the backyard one at a time:

She loved it. See Mom, sometimes it's good we don't listen to you.

Luca recharged his batteries:

Jenna and Auntie Margo:

The party:

Dad and I spent the first part of the party prepping dinner:

Finished!

Lauren and Luca on the dock:

My job as a Tia to throw my nephew around in open water:

He walked to the dock, climbed up, and jumped back in.

My favorite picture of the weekend:

Probably shouldn't have taught him to balance on that...

Dad made a beautiful and delicious cake:

And Luca climbed trees with the big kids:

Rowlson Family:

Happy Retirement Mom!

Covered Bridges Half Marathon

2011-06-25T11:46:00.003-04:00

I had hopes of a half marathon PR for this race but didn't feel like I had put in enough running miles to get one. I'm in full-fledged triathlon mode now so that means lots more time in the bike, a little more time in the pool, and less time running.

Woke up race morning feeling good. My legs were fresh, I was well-rested, and the weather was 60's and sunny. Choked down breakfast and Sarah dropped me off at the race start nice and early. Hit the porta potty a few times and met up with Dave. Asked him what time he was going to run-- a 1:40. Way too fast for me. I had a realistic goal, a would-be-great goal, and a dream goal. 1:40 was faster than even my dream goal. I think a lot about my races-- what miles are going to be slow and fast with hills, how much slower should I start the race so I don't kill my legs in the first few miles, etc. Did a warm-up jog and felt really good. Decided that I would do something totally out of my comfort zone and try to run with Dave for as long as I could. Go big or go home. Knew this would either be a HUGE PR or I would crash and burn. Asked Dave if he would mind if I tried to hang with him... he didn't.

The start gun sounded and I thought about one thing: stay with Dave. It was so freeing. Didn't have to look at my watch, calculate things in my head, second guess my plan. Just followed the tall guy in the yellow shirt.

I knew we were running much faster than I usually race but it felt OK. Looked down at my watch around mile 3 and had a little moment of panic-- TOO FAST!!! Only time would tell if I could maintain it or not. Mile 3.5 we passed Kelly and Isla and Dave's family. Kelly told Isla "there's Daddy... And Marisa!?!?". Mile 5 we passed them again and the Fitzgerald-Caruso clan cheered loudly for both of us. Thank you! There was a clock at the 10K mark and I got a new 10K PR (does it count during another race?). Another little panic and then I checked in with my body. Legs felt fine, breathing was under control, heart wasn't racing, stomach was fine. I was OK. Around this point Dave would get ahead of me and I'd focus on the back of his shirt, imagine there was a bungee cord between us, and catch back up. We'd run together for a little while, then he'd get ahead and I'd pull him back... repeat until mile 10 when I couldn't catch back up. I never took my eyes off that yellow shirt and never let him get out of sight.

Staring at the yellow shirt:

My calves cramped up a little in the final mile and I pushed through.

Final time: 1:40:55. Dave finished 1:40:22 so I did manage to stay pretty close. I was thrilled with my time and enjoyed this style of racing-- no thinking, no calculating, just run.
After the race:

Cupcakes!

Proud... and salty:

Isla liked the band at the finishers party. Notice the hands in the first video and the booty shaking in the second:

And after the race I felt fine. Like, FINE!!! Legs were a little stiff but I walked totally normally and was able to climb on rocks at a river with Isla.
Loved this race-- the course was beautiful and the post-race party was a blast. And how can you not love the race where you got a six minute PR!

Wee One Welcome Sets

2011-06-25T11:17:00.001-04:00

Two new baby boys means two new Wee One Welcome Sets.
Welcome Jessi's Baby Adrian:

And Marcy's Baby Noah:

Weekend in VT

2011-06-21T11:54:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I ran the Covered Bridges Half Marathon in Vermont. Full post about the race on the way. Sarah bought a house in South Pomfret last year and I still hadn't visited so I drove up early to spend some time with Sarah. We had a blast!
Friday afternoon we met at the White River Food Co-Op for snacks, then watched a great documentary about Circus Smirkus at the White River Indie Film Festival.

One of the kids in the film was sitting a few rows behind us. I was star struck.

After the movie we stopped by Sarah's favorite clothing store, Revolution. We shopped... and shopped... and shopped. The store was fantastic! Half consignment, half local designers. We both loved the feel of these super soft, super comfy sweaters and both loved the red striped version.

So we wore them around town!

Would you believe almost nobody commented? After a bottle of wine al fresco we headed back to Sarah's for the night.
Her house is amazing with a beautiful porch, a stunning view, and a fantastic wood stove. I'm more than a little jealous and could have stayed there forever. I made pancakes and eggs and we breakfasted on the deck while sipping spruce tea. Perfect.
Her cat Jessi:

The porch where we ate breakfast:

The view:

More Jessi:

This is what I woke up to Saturday morning. So happy.

Sidney:

Kelly, Dave, and Isla drove up from NYC on Saturday morning for the race. We met in Woodstock for a picnic:

Isla danced while we ate:

Kelly and Isla:

We walked around Woodstock, then Kelly and Dave left to meet up with Dave's parents and Sarah and I drove to the pre-race pasta dinner at the Suicide Six Ski Area. After dinner we sat outside and watched hundreds of kids run up and down the slopes:

We headed back to Sarah's later that evening. We were both exhausted (and a little hung over) from Friday. Sarah did some gardening and I fell asleep nice and early, perfect for the night before a big race!
And Sunday I ran. Fast. More later. But here are a few more pics from the weekend:
Everybody at Sarah's house Sunday afternoon:

After the race:

Couch to 5K

2011-06-21T11:29:00.000-04:00

Back in April I started a Couch to 5K group at work. I found three different training plans: a true couch to 5K, a novice plan for folks who could run 10 minutes, and an intermediate plan for the soccer players. We met on Wednesday nights after work for a group run and there were two other workouts for the participants to do on their own during the week. Fifteen people signed up and I figured we'd have 8-12 who would actually stick with the program.

We did the first few runs on a track so I could keep an eye on everybody.

The first April workout:

Early May:

By mid-May the group was ready to run trails:

Everybody seemed to enjoy the workouts. Lots of laughing and chatting after a long day in the office made us all happy. We usually had between six and eight at each practice out of the 10-12 participants.
I had hats made up for the runners to wear at the race and to acknowledge their accomplishment.
The week of the race people started dropping like flies. Everybody had an excuse. Only one person was planning on running the 5K. He bullied another into signing up for the race. But they both finished and finished STRONG!

I was initially bitter about wasting nine evenings training people who didn't say thank you and didn't show up to race. Then I realized it was a success. Justine signed up for her first half marathon, Ed is looking for another 5K to race, Lara pushed herself further than she though possible, Maria re-discovered her love of sports, and Lauren realized how much she needed to make time for herself during the week and loved the running.

Not what I planned, but a good thing in the end.

First Tri of the Season

2011-05-30T09:31:00.001-04:00

Last weekend was the first triathlon of my season, a small sprint race with a pool swim in Massachusetts. I was feeling ready to race and had three goals that I didn't share with anybody (not even my coach): ride over 20mph on the bike, PR on the 5K, and win my age group. I did all three AND was the third female overall. Woo hoo!
I got a new one-piece tri suit for this race since the swim was in a pool. Picture Spanx with a bike pad in the crotch and a zipper in the back. Comfy but not pretty and NOT the easiest thing to get on and off. I get a nervous pre-race bladder and pee about 100 times before races. This suit was not made for my bladder. In the end I lined up on the pool deck with the other athletes and peed on myself right on the deck. Told Julie to stand in front of me and she said "I swear to God if you splash any pee on me..." I don't think I did.
The swim was a time trial start with a snake swim back and forth in a lane, then duck under the lane line and repeat. I was near the front of the group so I didn't hit too much traffic but I'm guessing it got messier as more and more folks were in the pool. Could have gone a lot harder on the swim but finished feeling good. The chip time included the climb out of the pool and the barefoot run on cold concrete around the building to transition so I'm not exactly sure how fast my actual SWIM was.
T1 went well. Shoes on, sunglasses and helmet on, bike to the mount line and I was off!

The bike went well. Averaged over 20mph (goal #1), passed a woman in an aero helmet and a man, got passed by two guys. Coming back into transition:

T2 did not go as smoothly as T1. I couldn't jam my right foot into my running shoe and spent about 30 seconds more than I would have liked. Exiting transition the volunteer shouted "You're the first woman!" WTF, seriously!?!?! This is my I'm-the-first-woman-run-like-a-hunted-person leap off the curb:

Start of the run:

Quickly passed a few athletes, then I was alone for most the run with nobody in front of me and nobody I could hear behind. A few times I wondered if I was even on the correct route. Pushed myself to a new 5K PR (goal #2) but wonder how much faster I could have gone if I had somebody to look at or chase. At every manned intersection a volunteer shouted "go first woman!". LOVED it!
Coming back on the final stretch of road I heard breathing behind me.

Kicked it into another gear and dropped her ass:

First female to cross the finish line!

The race had a time trial style start so even though I crossed the finish line first, the woman behind me had a faster overall time and won the race. And somebody I never even saw beat my time by a few seconds (I totally lost second place overall in T2). I was still thrilled, first place age group (goal #3), third place overall, and finished under one hour (super secret far reaching goal #4).

Good way to start the season!

Camp

2011-05-30T09:04:00.000-04:00

Last year I went to a training weekend in the Waterville Valley with TriFury. I expected some sort of organized "camp" like other clubs have with lots of physical activity and drinking. Not so much. More of a "what do you want to do today?" type of thing with seminars and group dinners. I was a new triathlete and new to the club. Some folks were welcoming, some were not. I got dropped like a stone a few minutes into a no-drop ride and spent a miserable three hours riding by myself. I wasn't invited to a party on Saturday night or on a group run on Sunday morning. Bleh.

So I wasn't sure if I was going to attend camp again this year. In the end the idea of three full days filled with nothing but training was too good to pass up. I went in to this weekend with a very different attitude and a very different plan: I was there to train and kick my OWN ass for three days, I had my OWN workouts planned out and would do them all alone, and in the evenings I would do some social things with the other TriFury folks. No group rides, no group runs, no group boot camp workout. No getting dropped.

All of the crap I had to bring for one weekend:

Run clothing and gear, bike clothing and gear, swim suits and towels and gear, regular clothing and toiletries, workout food and bottles, breakfast and lunch and snacks. Took two trips to bring everything to the room!
I roomed with Julie and Ben. They were the perfect roommates and it worked out really well.

Friday morning we had a swim clinic, then the group was doing a three hour ride. Me too, but not with the group. I started a few minutes before them and took a slightly different route. My ride:

Wasn't sure where to put a cue sheet:

The ride to Waterville Valley ends with a ten-mile climb. It's not steep but it is unrelenting. Near the bottom of the hill I saw the last few cyclists of the group ride... and easily passed them. I saw the rest of the ride spread out on the hill and easily passed EVERY SINGLE PERSON after riding fifteen miles more than them. Each time I passed a rider I did a little cheer to myself and thought "you will NEVER drop me again". Got back to the room and changed for a quick brick run while everybody else fell into their beds or the bathtub. Yeah baby, look who improved this year!
Julie wore a long-sleeved shirt but pushed the arms up mid-ride. One guess where she didn't put sunscreen:

Dinner on Friday.

Saturday was a group boot camp. I did a run, another long ride, and a quick transition run. Alone. I didn't attend any of the seminars or workshops. I was kicking my own ass.
Saturday night we had our final group dinner and karaoke which is my version of Hell. I amused myself with beer and knitting:

The woman in the teal is my strength instructor, the guy in the grey button-down next to the guy in green is short-shorts-loose-liner man.

Ben, Julie, and me:

Things got wild and clothing was removed as the night wore on:

About this time Julie, Ben and I left the madness and soaked in the outdoor hot tub in the pouring rain. MUCH better!
Sunday morning folks packed up or did short little runs. I did a long run... alone. Then I packed up and treated myself to breakfast at Polly's Pancake Parlor.

Want to see me smile? Set this tray down in front of me:

I'm happy with how the weekend turned out. I got in some really good rides, some transition runs, learned lessons about fueling during bricks, and saw how much I've improved since last year. Glad I went and very glad I did my own thing. I needed a confidence booster to start the season and that's exactly what I got.

New Nashua YMCA

2011-05-28T10:12:00.000-04:00

The Nashua YMCA was built in 1963. It was old, dingy, and dated but was directly across the street from work and had a pool for laps. The pool was only four lanes and felt like a dark concrete bunker but I grew attached to it. It was where I learned to swim like a real swimmer (I grew up playing in the water but learned freestyle and important things like how long a pool is in this pool) in 2009. This past year I've been at the pool swimming laps many many early mornings. I know the lifeguards. I have my locker. I have a routine. This is MY YMCA, grungy or not.

Southern NH Medical Center bought the building and the YMCA built a brand new state of the art facility a few miles away. It was bittersweet. A new pool with six lanes and functioning filters and a clean locker room sounded fantastic but this was MY YMCA. Then the lifeguards started telling me about the water slide at the new pool. They brought in pictures of the water slide. They told me about testing out the water slide. Convenience vs water slide, water slide wins.

I swam my final set of laps the day the YMCA closed. I peed in the shower and the pool to mark my territory (it was CLOSING FOREVER in a few hours).

Goodbye concrete dungeon:

Hello new YMCA:

Separate play area for kids with a shallow pool and hydrant sprinkler, deeper area with a dumping bucket, and even deeper area with the water slide:

I planned out water slide workouts: swim fast, then run out and do the water slide, then get back in the water. I bribed myself with the water slide after a good workout. Then I saw the special water slide hours: 3-9pm. They need a separate lifeguard for the slide and somehow got the mistaken idea that only kids would want to use the slide. I whined on Monday morning. I whined on Wednesday morning. And on Friday morning my favorite lifeguard was working. I told him that the new YMCA was just taunting me with the slide and that I hadn't been down it once. Through sheer persistence and nagging I wore him down and after my workout on Friday he turned the slide on so I could go down once:

Which turned into twice:

The man who made it possible:

Now THAT was the way to start my morning!

Tilly Citrine

2011-05-28T09:49:00.000-04:00

Meet Tilly Citrine:

Here's the story:

I wasn't planning on getting another cat. Malachite found me and I really am more of a dog person with a cat lifestyle. But my house has been very quiet without Mal. Lonely.

On Monday my friend Janice brought me a clipping from the Nashua Telegraph about Oreo, the Humane Society Pet of the Week. Thanks but no thanks. Later that day my friend Jen brought me the same article. Seemed like a sign. When Janice saw my defenses crack she bugged me about visiting Oreo until I called the shelter to check if he was still available. He was.

I was at the Humane Society when it opened at noon on Tuesday. They have a room of male cats and two rooms of females, plus many animals in foster homes. I visited Oreo who was very sweet and vocal but there was not a spark. I told the volunteer I was just visiting and was POSSIBLY interested in a short hair male cat who was not declawed. She brought out a few other males-- no spark. I grabbed my purse to leave and the volunteer asked if I'd like to see any of the female cats. Not usually a huge fan of girl cats since they tend to be, well, catty. Fickle. Not my style. She knew the cats well and I told her I'd visit female cats with fantastic personalities.

We went in the first female room where I was introduced to a Persian (didn't even open the crate, way too much hair) and a Siamese who turned out to be a little nippy. While I was checking out those cats a little grey and tan female walked between my legs and rubbed up against me. The volunteer said that kitty was brand new and she didn't know the cat's personality yet. Not interested in a mystery cat. Took a peek in the second female cat room but no short haired cats with good personalities. Thanked the volunteer for her time and walked to the door... past the first room of female cats... and thought about that friendly little cat. Asked if I could visit her one more time. Sat on the floor and the little cat jumped right into my lap and started purring. Spark.

The volunteer got the chart for this little girl who came with the name Bijou. "She's got great records and was really well cared for. There are vet records in here, she doesn't have any strange behaviors noted, and was brought in because the owner's son moved home and has allergies". She kept reading. "Oh, she was a kitten from this shelter." And then, "I remember her! She's the sweet kitten with the crazy feet!". She picked up Bijou and held her in the air to show off her gigantic paws with polydactyly that I hadn't even noticed. She set the cat back down and it walked right back over to me and crawled in my lap. Shit. BIG spark. This volunteer was smooth. "I'm just going to give you two some time to get to know each other", clearly knowing I was going to take this little kitty home with me. Shit. Was I ready for another cat?

Made a bunch of calls and Vicky answered her phone. "I'm sitting here with a purring little cat in my lap, do I take her home". Vicky: "are you in a shelter?" I said yes. Vicky didn't hesitate. "Take her home". "Really?" "Absolutely."

Sitting on my application at the shelter:

Falling asleep on my purse:

So she came home with me and it was 100% the correct decision. She's super sweet and very curious. She is also an amazing climber and uses those extra fingers like opposable thumbs to scale the built-in shelves in my living room. She did not respond to the name Bijou, thank God, and I changed her name to Tilly Citrine. Tilly is for her polydactyly and Citrine for the color of her eyes.

Adjusting well:

Looking out the back door at the birds:

She likes to sit on the table in the sewing room and look out the window:

Take a look at those paws:

Right front:

Left front:

Back paws:

Happy kitty:

Final Day in France

2011-05-22T16:48:00.002-04:00

I woke up on Friday feeling pretty good, considering the late night we had in Geneva. My cold was improving and I wasn't really hungover. Decided to take advantage of the last full day in France with a trail run in the French Alps. It was as beautiful as it sounds:

I love French signs. My favorite part is that "chaos is a curiosity you might discover". Love it.

Why can't our street signs look like this? (Took me a while to figure these out-- the top sign is the town you are entering, the sign with a line through it is the town you are leaving)

Random castle:

Le Coin. This is what I hiked later in the day:

When I quit midwifery and move I want to live right here:

This was a very slow moving day. Lots of hanging out in the yard, snacking, and enjoying the beautiful weather.

I wanted to do a nice long hike in the Alps. I mean, how often do you get that kind of opportunity. It was difficult to get the group moving and we had Dahlia's school schedule to deal with (school is from 8-11:30, then 1-3:30. Sarah said it is nearly impossible to get anything done since she is always dropping Dahlia off or picking her up). Around noon I peeled off on my own for a hike.

First part of the trail:

Again, these French signs crack me up. This one says the trail is very dangerous and presents a risk of death:

Half way to the summit:

There's a trail there somewhere:

Good thing I'm not afraid of heights. Going up was fun but I didn't really think about descending with my beat-up post-marathon quads. That wasn't as much fun.

Sat here for a while and took in the breathtaking view:

View from the summit:

Safely made it down the trail but I will never again make fun of people hiking with those cross-country-ski-pole-things. Would have been very helpful!

We had a final dinner of raclette over grilled veggies and fantastic wine in the backyard. Another perfect meal. Full of cheese and wine we packed up the car and drove to Paris for our final night. Our flights were on Saturday morning and it made more sense to stay closer to the airport than try to drive all the way across the country super early in the morning. Lara took the wheel on this leg and was an equally calm and patient driver.

We checked in to a tiny hotel in the same neighborhood as before (Montparnasse) and decided one final drink was in order... at La Rotunde. First meal and the final drink at the same table.

Saturday morning I woke up early and ran in the Jardin du Luxembourg at sunrise, enjoying the blossoming horse chestnut trees, the quiet streets, and the smell of baking bread. Picked up warm pain au chocolate for everybody for our final French breakfast and we headed to the airport. Au revior, Paris. I'll be back.

Geneva

2011-05-22T16:28:00.000-04:00

Sarah and Michael live a few miles from Geneva and we couldn't resist the opportunity to visit another country during our trip. We all carefully packed our IDs and Passports and walked to the bus station... in Switzerland. Like, a fifteen minute walk. We passed a little building that looked like an EZ-pass booth (closed) with a Swiss flag on the side. No actual border crossing, no stamp on the passport. Like driving from New Hampshire to Massachusetts.

Geneva was a beautiful city but no place I'd visit again. It was immaculately groomed and very orderly. There was a beautiful lake and very nice gardens... and bank after bank, luxury item store after luxury item store. It was also ridiculously expensive. Beer and drinks cost 12-17 Swiss Francs which works out to about $15-20 a piece.

This is a very famous church whose name escapes me:

The Calvinists did not approve of ornate decorations in churches and cleaned the place up a little:

The original untouched part:

Wizard chess in a park:

This is what most of the city looked like:

Those signs are for Rolex, Tissot, a bank, and a luxury hotel:

Lake Geneva, or Lac Lemond as they say in Switzerland:

We had a fantastic lunch on this pier:

Soaking my sore feet in Lake Geneva:

More beauty:

The top floor of the Woodrow Wilson Hotel rents for $90,000/night and is apparently almost always booked. Lots of money in Geneva.

Dahlia and Graham burning some energy. Notice Graham's plumbers crack!

Sarah had to leave a day early for a hockey tournament so we made our way to the train station. We arrived a little early and decided to have a few goodbye drinks:

I ordered this beer just because I wanted to try to pronounce it:

Sarah made her train and the kids went home with their grandparents. The rest of us did a little pub crawl, Geneva style. British pub with some of Michael's classmates (from Bosnia, Israel, and Geneva):

Real fondue in Switzerland! We got all three versions: plain, herb which had lots of mustard seeds, and mushroom (my personal favorite). They only served bread and I would have loved some veggies to dip in the cheese, but I'm not complaining. This stuff was GOOD!

Dessert fondue-- meringues and strawberries with a mild creamy cheese:

We continued our pub crawl to a little dive bar. Love the name of these drinks. Note the cocaine liquide and big bobbies:

End of the night:

Stumbled across the unmanned border under a moon so bright it cast shadows.

France, Day 6, Collonges Sous Saleve

2011-05-21T19:05:00.000-04:00

Woke up Wednesday with a cold. It was inevitable-- little sleep, international flight, marathon. But how can you complain when you also wake up to this view?:

Sunrise over the French Alps:

More stairs to torture my post-marathon legs.

This is the house Sarah and Michael are renting in France. Those grape vines are from the 1700's and survived the grape blight of 18-something.

We spent most of Wednesday sitting in the yard, soaking up the sun and eating bread and cheese. When we weren't in the yard we were walking to town for more bread and more cheese. Three trips to the boulangerie that day.

Graham:

Dahlia:

My tour guide:

Collonges Sous-Saleve

This is the entire town with Le Coin in the background:

The house across the street:

Took a walk through the fields:

Little French girl in a field of yellow flowers (OK, Dahlia and dandelions, but it's pretty close)

Le Coin:

Geneva in the background:

France, Day 5

2011-05-21T18:34:00.001-04:00

Tuesday was our travel day. Those are never the best days of a vacation.

I woke up early, packed my things, and headed to La Liberte for one final Parisean breakfast. Was not ready to leave Paris.

We loaded our suitcases into the rental car and headed out of the city. We nominated Vicky, the most aggressive driver of the group, to get us out of Paris. She was an absolute angel to do that drive-- I would have been pulled over to the side of the road in tears after about 30 seconds.

Michael and Sarah live in Collonges Sous-Saleve which is in France but only a few miles from Geneva. We decided to drive through the Cote d'Or, the area where Burgundy wine is made, on the way down. The Cote, which is not a coast, is countryside filled with vineyards and vintners. We pulled over in Chambolle-Musigny.

Options for vintners on that one tiny town:

Cote de Nuits:

Wine Tasting:

We tasted five Burgundy wines from the Cote de Nuits. Each was from a pinot noir grape but had a unique taste due to the age of the wine and soil and climate in the parcels of land. Bought a bottle as a thank you for Sarah and Michael and hit the road for Collonges Sous-Saleve. We arrived after dark, exchanged some pleasantries, and fell into our beds.

Paris, Day 4

2011-05-21T07:54:00.000-04:00

I woke up around 7:00 the morning after the marathon and took a long bath in the amazing tub with the shutters open, watching the city come to life. Then I got dressed and hobbled post-marathon-style to La Liberte, my regular morning cafe, for breakfast. Sat outside and nursed my cafe creme, read the marathon stories in the newspaper, journaled, and soaked up street life. This was our last full day in Paris and I was NOT ready to leave. Sigh.

Stopped at the boulangerie for a baguette and hobbled back to the hotel where I found everybody else still in bed! They decided this was a lazy morning. There are no lazy mornings on vacation! I had a full day planned and we were already behind schedule! We decided today would be an On Our Own Day. By we, I mean me.

I decided to do the Frommers walking tour of Montmartre.Why in the world did I think climbing stairs and steep streets to the highest point in Paris the day after a marathon, ALONE, was a good idea?

View of Paris from the highest point:

Sacre Coeur:

Cameras are not allowed inside Sacre Couer. Some tourists took pictures anyway but I figured a church was not the best place to be lying and breaking rules. I sat in a pew, took my shoes off and put my sore post-marathon feet on the cold marble floor, admired the stained glass, and thought for a while.

Front doors:

Montmarte was a beautiful (hilly!) neighborhood with lots of narrow winding streets:

The only vineyard left in Paris:

One of the two windmills, or Moulins, left in Montmartre.
Moulin Radet:

I stopped for lunch at a tiny cafe on a narrow cobble street. There were four little tables outside. I had an amazing salad with warm goat cheese, red peppercorns, and honey drizzled over toasted baguette slices. I sat, sipping my wine and people watching, for a long time.

The house where van Gogh grew up:

Finished the tour and headed back to the hotel where I took another long bath and called it an early night.

Paris Day 3

2011-05-20T19:35:00.000-04:00

The planning for this trip started on our September Ladies' Weekend. Vicky mentioned that her brother Michael is doing a year-long human rights program in Geneva and is renting a castle in the South of France with space for guests. A free place to stay in France with locals was an opportunity none of us could pass up. Then I remembered hearing about the Marathon de Paris that ends under the Arc de Trimophe and runs past all of the Parisian sights. April in Paris worked for our schedules so a decided to spend a week in Paris and the Rhone Valley around the time of the marathon. Win, win, win.

This race did not go well for me. In fact, it was a disastrous failure and I'll leave it at that.

Here are some pics:

Very crowded:

Very hot and humid:

My race photos:

Still smiling, this must have been near the VERY start:

My friends came to cheer around mile 12-ish. The first part of this sentence is "I feel like..." One guess what word I'm saying here!

Not going to say any more about that race. Big check mark next to Paris Marathon on the life to-do list and no more marathons for a while.
The race finished at the Arc de Triomphe. This guy jumped in our picture, we have no idea who he is but he cracked us up:

Only one porta-potty (toi toi) for every corral, six corrals for 40,000 runners... you do the math. But each corral had two four-sided open air urinals. What was a girl to do?
Reenacting how I freaked out 100's of European men:

High cinq!

Juice boxes of wine with an aerator in the straw. I love France:

After the race we had yummy crepes and wandered around an art market in Edgar Quinet square. It was high 70's and beautiful and our pasty New England bodies soaked up the warmth and sunlight.
I was craving seafood for my post-marathon meal. This place was right down the street from our hotel. Love how they prep the seafood outside to keep the stink down inside the restaurant:

We checked out the menu but ended up going back to La Rotunde. The food and wine there were so good and by this point we knew the waiters.
Celebration champagne:

Polished off every single item on this platter:

It was after 11:00pm when we finished dinner but we were all still wide awake so we took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower.
Post-marathon stair descending technique:

Eiffel Tower:

Vicky and Lara admiring the view:

Seine at night:

Carousel under the Tower:

I have this blown up in my bedroom:

Inside the Tower:

Every hour on the hour they do a five minute LED light show:

At 2:00am the lights turn off to conserve energy:

We flagged cabs and headed back to the hotel. Our cabbie was absolutely adorable (and patient with our French) and tried to explain what was wrong with all French women and why dating was so tough in Paris.

Twenty-two hours after my wake-up call and fourteen hours after finishing a marathon I was fell into bed. Not a lot of sleep on this trip...

Paris, Day 2

2011-05-17T14:20:00.001-04:00

We set the alarm for 7:00am, forcing our bodies to flip to Paris time. Sarah and I headed out for a sunrise run in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Sarah thought this looked like her cat:

The streets were quiet and the entire city smelled like baking bread. Stopped at a boulangerie for a warm baguette:

Chocolate bell (a la David Sedaris)

Patisserie next to our hotel:

Met up with the rest of the group and headed to a cafe for cafe creme and pain:

Everything was just too perfect. The weather was beautiful, we were sitting outside sipping cafe creme, two little girls walked by with scarves around their necks, a man on the corner wore a beret and played a grinder. Lara said this was our own personal version of The Truman Show, Paris staged for our pleasure. We agreed.

Headed to the Rue Mouffetard market.

We all got rings from this man:

It was strawberry and asparagus season:

I never buy the GM strawberries from California, I pick my own from a local organic farm in May and June. Thought I knew what a good strawberry tasted like... and then I had these:

OMG. Amazing. Happiness in a bite. Worth every single Euro.

End of Rue Mouffetard:

Sarah discretely changed into her skirt:

I needed a carbo-loading lunch for the marathon on Sunday so we had a late lunch at an Italian restaurant. The only meal that wasn't out-of-this-world amazing, but I guess that's what you get for eating Italian food in France:

I put on compression gear and rested my legs while the rest of the ladies... I'm not so sure what they did...

Sunset at the Jardin du Luxembourg:

Not allowed on the grass:

Picnic:

Megan was so distracted by the beauty she walked full-force into a pole. We started every sentence for the rest of the night with "so a girl walks into a bar..."

Reenacting sculpture:

We stayed in the park for too long and got locked in. Oops.

Late lunch + sunset picnic + jet lag = dinner picnic on the bed