dear santa

When someone asks me what I want for Christmas, I usually say something lame and super practical, like a gift card for groceries or "something for the house." For whatever reason (be it Catholic guilt, the desire to be seen as a financially independent adult human, or an innately stubborn nature due to my astrological sign), I find it mind-bogglingly difficult to come up with anything creative, especially when I'm put on the spot.

Magnus does not shop for presents; he considers his very existence to be the ultimate gift to humanity.

Since there are still a few days left before Christmas (and the internet and Amazon Prime exist to help those who may have procrastinated), here are some triathlon-related gift ideas. These are things I'd love to give or receive. And they're organized by zones because, duh, triathlon.

Z1 – $25 or less

• Stance socks: I got a pair of the tab socks in my Wilder swag bag and am now a convert. Also, there is a holiday cat design that is freaking awesome. 
• Books: Some of my fave tri-related titles include Chrissie Wellington's autobiography, ROAR for all of your women-specific nutrition questions, The Brave Athlete for those times when you're stuck in your head, and Shalane Flanagan's cookbooks.
• Foot Rubz ball: I swear by this thing. Buy several. Keep one in your purse at all times. You'll thank me.
• Coeur Sports swim cap: I have a bazillion free swim caps from races, but I so much prefer these nice, thicker silicone ones -- they cause less hair breakage. Plus the designs are cute.
• A fun water bottle: Two favorites -- this one from Whisky Parts Co. (for obvious reasons) and this one from Portland Design Works (equally obvious).

Z2 – $75 or less

• Jolyn swimsuit: All my "real swimmer" friends love these ridiculously adorable (and kinda sexy) suits. I have one of their bikinis in this cat print (I know you are so surprised), but I'd also love to get a fixed-back onesie for workouts.
• After-swim toiletry set: Chlorine kills my hair and dries out my skin, so I always keep shower stuff made especially for swimmers in my gym bag. This shampoo, conditioner, and body wash gift set from Zealios is on sale.
• Gift certificate for a massage: This is always, always a much-welcomed gift. If you live in the Twin Cities area and want a good sports massage therapist, I highly recommend this gal. 

Z3 – $150 or less

• Cozy Bird Yeti from Oiselle: This onesie sums up exactly how I want to spend every weekend all winter. I want to shovel the driveway in it and take Mouse for walks in it and go to the library in it and cry over the Vikings not making the playoffs in it (perhaps my fears are premature, but what can I say -- this is how life is with this team) and basically just wear it in public constantly until Big Ginger threatens to divorce me.
• Brooks Levitate 2 Limited Edition shoes: I cannot resist anything rose gold, and this shoe is just gorgeous. (Also cool in a totally different way: These ugly sweater sneaks, which I would wear year-round because I am that person.) 
• R8 deep tissue massage roller: It looks like a torture device. It's probably really good for me.

Z4 – $300 or less

• Swim Smooth workshop: There's a one-day stroke correction clinic coming to the Twin Cities area in January. I treated myself to it, and you should do it too.

All out

• NormaTec boots: Every time I see these at a race expo, I have to stop and spend a few minutes in them. They are amazing. I would love to fall asleep in them while Ryan Gosling reads me poetry. 
• Registration for Coeur Sports training camp: Get your season started on a good note! The best part: There are multiple pricing options, so you don't have to break the bank.
• Wahoo Kickr: Big Ginger just got one, and he loves it because it keeps his workouts honest -- you can't cheat watts on a smart trainer. (Although I kind of feel like the term "smart trainer" implies that my current trainer is a "dumb trainer," and I think that's sort of mean.)

swimvember

Maybe you saw my tweet this morning.

Never in my life did I think I’d be bouncing out of bed at 5 a.m. to shovel the driveway because there was no way snow was going to make me miss masters swim.

Where the magic happens.

Over the past month or so, my whole attitude toward swimming has changed. Once upon a time, swimming was a source of dread, embarrassment, and sometimes even terror (tell me I’m not the only one who’s woken up panicked in the middle of the night, thinking about a looming CSS test). Now going to the pool is a highlight of my week, and I find myself wishing I could do it more often.

Part of this is due to joining masters (a.k.a. the best decision ever – besides cats and Big Ginger, of course). I love the people I swim with, I love the coaching, I love the challenge of new strokes (yes, I can fly now – it’s ugly and exhausting, but I can do it). I’m constantly being pushed out of my comfort zone – asked to attempt things I’ve never done before and risk failing in public, in spandex, in front of other people – and I really, really enjoy it.

I’m also grateful for Swimvember, my tri team’s month-long challenge geared toward getting everyone in the pool more often and building swim fitness. You earn points for each swim you complete, and there are bonus points for doing certain sets and workouts. All the points are tracked on a giant spreadsheet (Big Ginger would approve – spreadsheets are his jam), and while there are plenty of opportunities to win prizes (including cool stuff from Roka, which sponsors the challenge), I just really like seeing all the numbers on paper – keeps me accountable and motivated!

As a result of all of this swimming (32,800 yards this month as of today), I clocked my fastest 200 ever on Tuesday – 3:47. My previous PR was 4:05, so I am beyond ecstatic!

Here’s my holy-shit-I-just-did-that face.

Goggle eyes ftw.

running as metaphor

Wilder opening circle (photo by Jess Barnard)

Confession: I've been sitting on this post forever. I started writing it two weeks after Wilder, but was having trouble getting it to exactly where I wanted it. So I never hit publish and just let it languish in my drafts folder.

This is exactly everything anti-Wilder, which was all about letting go of perfection and still being able to find a way to say, "I am satisfied."

photo by Jess Barnard

So I'm making myself hit publish now. Here goes.

Almost two months have passed since I got back from Wilder (and yes, time does seem to go by faster as you get older – this article proves it’s a legit thing), but I can't stop thinking about that wonderful weekend in the woods.

Those trails – I’m a road runner, and the roots and moss and rocks made me nervous, and I worried about reinjuring my ankle, and my calves and my glutes got sore, and my lungs strained, and everything felt hard and so very slow, and at one point, someone mentioned ticks (wtf, people, way to freak me out). But I kept going (even if it meant walking at times). And the view at the top was so worth it, and I never want to forget the blue of Penobscot Bay and the trees just starting to turn colors.

Can you blame me for wanting to go back?

And you know what I realized (besides the fact that I have zero clue what to do with a tick)? Writing is a lot like running. It’s hard and it can sometimes suck and you have to put in the work before you see any results, but the secret is keep going. Keep going even when your writing is awful and sappy and embarrassing, keep going even when it’s uncomfortable, keep going even when you feel like you’re wasting your time. Because in the end, it’s worth it.

Wilder founder Lauren Fleshman (photo by Jess Barnard)

There were goats! I love goats!

I'm the awkward one in the blue tank top (photo by Jess Barnard)

hi, September. bye, September.

My boss started a new meeting process called three things. (And no, this isn’t a reference to the number of snacks I eat in every meeting. Although it could be. There was that one time I dropped an entire salad on the boardroom floor in the middle of a meeting with our whole curatorial staff and the editor of an important arts publication. I’m still embarrassed.) It’s about sharing the three projects that are top of mind at the moment.

So I’ll get to the point. Three things:

One

I got into Wilder -- a writing and running retreat led by former pro runner Lauren Fleshman – and leave for Maine tomorrow morning. I haven’t started packing at all and will probably spend tonight frantically throwing shit into a suitcase, but I’m beyond excited. It’s an honor to be selected as a participant.

 
My relationship with writing is weird. (And wasn’t that just the most profoundly literary sentence you’ve ever read in your whole life?) I love it and am terrified of it all at the same time. I want to start writing fiction again, but I still have PTSD from grad school. There’s something about creating that feels so naked and vulnerable. It’s bizarre – I have no problem making an ass out of myself in the pool (want to see me attempt the fly, anyone?) and putting in the hours for a massive goal like Ironman, but when it comes to sitting down and starting a short story (much less finishing one), I’m scared shitless.

So I’m hoping Wilder will be what I need – a way to shed the icky, competitive grad school feelings, get messy, and channel some of the same energy and passion I’ve put into triathlon, all while exploring a beautiful place (autumn in Maine!) and meeting inspiring humans. (And maybe, if I’m really lucky, some inspiring cats too – because you never know. Like my ultimate fantasy would be waking up to the sound of meowing outside my cabin and finding a tiny orange kitten who would then be my muse for the rest of the trip and then I would take her home to Minnesota and name her Merwin after W.S. Merwin – who cares if he’s a man, minor detail – and then my army of cats would become even stronger.)

Two

I wasn’t lying about the fly. I joined a masters swim group and have officially survived Week 3 of my attempt to become a “real” swimmer. I can now not only do a flip-turn, but a backstroke flip-turn as well! However, I still resemble a dying frog during breaststroke, and I laugh hysterically when the coach asks us to do IMs. Equally hilarious: Dolphin kick with a board, a.k.a. spastic wiggling in the middle of the pool while clinging to a piece of foam. (Dear people with kids: Make them go to swim lessons so they don’t become me when they are adults.)

Full disclosure: This isn't the Phillips pool. But this is an accurate depiction of my swimming.

Oh, and inside tip: If you live in Minneapolis and are looking for a masters group that is primarily beginning-to-intermediate swimmers who are super welcoming and totally focused on learning, this is the workout for you. It’s at the brand-spanking-new Phillips Aquatic Center and only costs $30 for the entire session, which runs through Dec. 20. (For comparison, yesterday I spent $40 ordering Halloween costumes for cats, and I’m pretty sure that won’t make me a better swimmer, so $30 for masters swim is like the best deal ever.)

Three

Is it just me, or as you get older, do you become more of an introvert? Don’t get me wrong – I still love throwing a good party (like the time we had Yia Vang from Union Kitchen come over for a cooking class and then somehow stayed up until midnight and a bottle of 1977 Port was consumed, among many other things).

But I want to leave the house less and less. (This is not helped by the fact that I recently discovered Instacart.) And now that it’s fall and the daylight is waning (I like that word – “waning”), all I think about is sleeping. (I’m also reading this book, which is basically about a woman who quits her life and sleeps for a year. My feelings on it fluctuate between “Wow, this character is remarkably flawed, with some serious psychological issues” and “Dear god, she’s a freaking genius.”)

I'm racing again!

Remember how I made that joke about being in Triathlete magazine? So this happened:

It's a story about the YWCA Women's Triathlon, which took place this past Sunday. Everything about this race gives me glowy feelings. I love seeing the hard work of so many strong women pay off as they finish a tri for the very first time. I love how supportive all of the athletes are, how celebration is the focus, not competition. And I love how diverse the field is – women of all different body types, ages, ethnic backgrounds, and physical abilities.

Jen said it best: “YWCA is one of those races you want to keep doing every single year for the rest of your life.”

Which is why I’m so glad this was my comeback race. Yes, folks, the photo doesn't lie: I’m racing again. And I managed to do the entire run without walk breaks. And I didn’t re-sprain my ankle. Glowy feelings all around!

Here’s a quick recap:

Pre-race: I rode to the start with my neighbor Alyssa, who was also racing. We gushed about how much we love this race and laughed over how we weren't nervous at all since we felt like we hadn't actually trained and therefore had zero expectations. 

Air quality wasn't great this weekend, which made for an epic pre-race sunrise.

Swim: Water temperatures were warm, so no wetsuits allowed. The swim at this race is heavily supported -- waves are spaced out really well, and there are tons of kayaks and noodle swimmers so you feel safe at all times. I took this as an opportunity to try to swim like a legit triathlete vs. tooling around like I normally do. So I positioned myself toward the front of my wave, swam tight against the buoy line (this was the straightest I’ve ever swum in my life -- we all know I’m not the best at sighting and most of my open water swims look like a scenic tour of the lake), and had surprisingly very little contact with other swimmers. Overall, pretty ideal conditions! Yet despite this and the fact that I felt like I was pushing myself, I still had a super slow swim time of 11:40. (What can I say? I excel at bad swimming.)

T1: I made some stupid decisions, like sitting down to put my shoes on, even though I really didn’t need to. I also tried to get on my bike before the mount line and got a little tsk-tsk from the volunteers. Oops! Took me 2:27 to get through T1.

Bike: My goal was to go all out and get uncomfortable since this is the only sport I’ve been doing somewhat consistently since my injury. I wanted to see if I could average close to 20 mph. I did OK on the way out, but then after the turnaround, I felt like my rear wheel was dragging, so I slowed down and asked another racer if my tire was flat. Surprise – it wasn’t flat; I was just tired and that dragging feeling was my legs! (Seriously, I am so dumb sometimes.) So I lost speed for a stupid reason. My bike time was 49:47 – 18.7 mph average.

T2: Once again, I fumbled around. My dismount was slow – I had passed all these people on the bike, but they still crossed the timing mat before I did. And then I got into transition and had no idea where my rack was. Dear god: SO RUSTY -- 1:43 T2 time.

Run: I was aiming for a 10:00 minute/mile pace – I just started running again two weeks ago, and I hadn’t run farther than two miles, done as a run-walk. The plan was to run for five minutes, see how that felt, and then either keep running or take walk breaks as needed. I felt pretty good, so I ran the entire time and ended up with 29:20 – a 9:28 pace! Yes, it was nowhere nearly as fast as I’ve run 5K in the past, but who cares. I am running again, and that’s a win!

Also, I convinced the body marker to draw a cat on my leg. Winning AF.

My overall time was 1:34:54 -- 31st in my age group out of a field of 165. This was slower than last year (although I improved a smidge on the bike and with transitions). But like I said, today wasn’t about breakthrough performances – I was just thrilled to finish a race and not end up in an X-ray machine. (For the record, all that talk about Canadian healthcare being free is a lie. I recently paid the bill for my ER adventure, and I’ll be eating lentils and rice for the next two weeks.)

And finally: Shoutout to all the first-time triathletes I met swimming at Nokomis this summer, especially Liz, Rebecca, and LaTanya. The best part about the sport of triathlon is the community, and I absolutely love welcoming more people into the fold. I’m so damn proud of these ladies and their accomplishments, and I hope YWCA is just the first of many races we’ll do together!

trainer meow-tivation

Since it is International Cat Day, I’d like to show you what happens when I get on the trainer and Magnus decides he can’t live without me.

It's cute at first. He jumps up on the stool next to my bike and says hello.

But then he gets really excited and climbs onto my aerobars.

Imagine if I actually raced like this.

And then he gets mouthy.

For the record, he has terrible breath.

But aerobars are not enough.

He has to jump onto my shoulder ...

... and try to sit on my head.

And of course, he always does this when I'm supposed to be building in Z3 and Z4. Gah!

if you're having a bad week

... and need something to laugh at, I'm totally here for you.

Yes, my wetsuit penis bump, my floppy hand, and my I'm-about-to-pass-out face are all here for you.

Still not enough?

Well, then watch me fail to use the video function on my GoPro and take a series of awful still photos instead: 

I know, right? I should totally be on the cover of Triathlete magazine.

Oh and please don't show these to Ryan Gosling because he'll try to break down my door and Big Ginger won't be happy about that.

butt blasting

Right now my butt is so extremely sore from physical therapy. (And by butt, I mean glutes, not butthole. Because why on earth would a physical therapist work on your butthole? Although I will admit that once I did one of those colon hydrotherapy treatments that supposedly all the celebrities do before red carpet events because it makes them look skinny. I was curious. And also I had a Groupon. As I’m sure you can imagine, the experience was weird and involved sticking a hose up my butt and using a tennis ball to massage my stomach while water flowed in and poop flowed out. And then afterward the woman who administered the butt-cleansing made me look at all my poop and told me I needed to chew my food more. And I went home feeling like a big balloon of liquid and not at all like a celebrity.)

Anyway, apparently my ankle is related to my butt. Or rather, my gluteus medius, which is more like the hip-butt. (I’m like a total scientist with my awesome anatomical knowledge.) And when the hip-butt is weak, instability ensues. So I am doing clamshells with a band and fire hydrants (yes, these are just like a dog peeing) with a band.

And oh how it burns.

That feeling when.

more catbell

You know what always makes me feel so inspired?

Kittens.

Oh, and cheering at a triathlon in my special shirt.

(I was thinking about how people always bring cowbells to races, and I'd like to point out that cats wear bells, too. So people should really consider saying "more catbell" instead of "more cowbell." Also, since catbells are small, you'd need a shit ton of them if you want to make any sort of significant noise. Which would mean you'd need a shit ton of cats. I really don't see what the downside is here at all. More catbell!)

Yesterday I drove up to the Chisago Lakes Triathlon and Aquabike (side note: on the way there, I spotted a sign outside the Northwoods Humane Society that said “We’ve got kittens!” and I cannot even tell you how much self-control it took for me not to pull over) to celebrate Jen, who was doing the aquabike as a step toward her goal of completing her first 70.3 next year. She rocked it and finished faster than she was expecting!

Fun fact: Jen has three cats.

 I also got to see a few Coeur Collective Beat gals, which was super cool.

Katie's so fast, I could only catch photos of her butt.

And the entire time, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I want to race again. And I found myself missing the craziness of Ironman training. And then I went to the pool and swam 2900 yards because I just had to do something.

on the bright side

You know, it’s probably a good thing I’m injured because this summer has turned out to be incredibly busy, so if I were training for a big race right now, I’d be totally stressed out and Big Ginger would want to divorce me and our house would be a giant litter box and the cats would be bald from me obsessively petting them in an attempt to find relief.

But instead, I’m doing things like going on family fishing trips (bet you can’t guess whose side of the family organized such a trip), during which I did zero fishing but all the biking:

Any time I get to ride my road bike is a good time!

This is what happy looks like!

… listening to musical performances by artists who were really cool once:

I'm OK with being the only one sitting down.

… flying to California to see my family:

I swear, these shirts were not my idea.

… getting together with Clos Du Val friends (has it really been 10+ years since those Napa days?) to sweat profusely in nice clothes and celebrate Laura and Chris:

High butt cheek moisture right now.

… and learning that Indian weddings require more stamina and caloric intake than Ironman (and dal tastes way better than gels):

healing requires patience

It’s been 5.5 weeks since Victoria 70.3, and I’m still healing. No running, no standing climbs on the bike, no kicking on the swim (which reminds me of a Seattle teammate who called the pull buoy her boyfriend because it spent so much time near her lady parts -- ha).

I’m determined to give my ankle the time it needs, but man, I feel like it’s taking forever. Which seems crazy to me, considering how common this injury is: In the U.S., 25,000 people sprain their ankles every day. That’s like the entire city of Laguna Beach plus 3,000 of their BFFs stepping off a curb the wrong way. (Am I a horrible person for thinking this would make a really good dance number in a musical?)

Yet it can take up to 12 weeks to fully recover, depending on the severity of the injury. And most of us don’t wait as long as we should. We think, It’s just a sprain. Nothing’s broken. No big deal. And then we’re back out there. And then we get injured again. Because studies find that ankle sprains have a re-injury rate between 40 and 70 percent.

I’m pretty sure that’s the mistake I made the first time around, when I sprained my ankle back in April but went ahead and did a duathlon anyway. Which led to shin splints. And two more ankle sprains and a DNF. And now I’m sitting here, 5 lbs. heavier (because my appetite always thinks it’s an Ironman), ordering elastic-waist shorts from the J.Crew outlet (because why pay full price), and listening to podcasts about the effects of ageing on an athlete’s body (because education).

But the ankle does feel noticeably better. Recovery is happening, slowly but surely.

victoria 70.3

In sum: I swam (and in typical fashion, it was meh). I rode my little heart out (don’t tell anyone, but I think I secretly like hills and I absolutely loved this course). And because my MRI did not show a stress fracture, I ran.

I got 11K into the run, rolled my ankle, walked it off, started running again, and then rolled it even worse at 13K, so I pulled the plug.

The girl huddled in a volunteer’s hoodie and a plastic rain poncho, foot propped up on a rock, simultaneously crying and cheering before Run Aid Station 1? Hi, that was me.

Because even though you go into a race injured and knowing a DNF is possible, it still feels disappointing. And I am so incredibly tired of the seemingly stupid injuries that have plagued me all season.

Med tent adventures

 *

This is the chart I made leading up to the race, when I was waiting for my MRI results and trying to figure out my options.

I guess I’m at the “Heal 100%” box right now. I don’t know what’s next. I’m trying to take it one day at a time, but it’s hard. I feel like I need redemption, that surge of emotion that comes with crossing a finish line.

*

The race doctor thought I might have a fracture, so Big Ginger drove me to the emergency room at Victoria General Hospital for an x-ray. I was still in spandex. I needed a shower.

Thankfully, nothing was broken. However, I spent a few days on crutches. And Big Ginger pushed me around the Butchart Gardens in a wheelchair. (Every time he let go of the chair, I'd yell, "I'm escaping!" and wheel myself away as fast as possible. I'm sure this game was really fun for him.)

*

I have a brace on now. My ankle is still swollen, but it’s getting better. The bruising is going away. Yesterday I rode my commuter bike (hooray for flat pedals) and felt fine.

Fingers crossed.

will the tech be mcdreamy?

So tonight I am going to get an MRI for the very first time.

I’m looking forward to it because hopefully I’ll find out what’s wrong with my leg and can then figure out how to get healthy again and make a plan for how I’ll handle Victoria. (DNF? DNS? Try to run anyway and see what happens? Also, for the record, I did get an x-ray Monday, and the results were normal, which sounds great at first, but stress fractures don’t often show up on x-rays. In fact, the last time I had a stress fracture, it wasn’t visible until I got a bone scan.)

But mostly I’m super excited for my MRI because I’ve been watching way too much "Grey’s Anatomy" on the trainer. (Side note: How is this show still on? I used to be into it but stopped ages ago, when Izzie started seeing dead people – oops, sorry if I spoiled it for you, and yes, it is really That Ridiculous – only to recently realize it is now in its 14th season! WTF.) It is going to take all of my self-control not to ask the imaging technician (is that what they’re called?) if they are “meeting” someone in the on-call room later. (Do technicians even have an on-call room?)

My brother, who is an actual real-life doctor, would literally punch me right now if he read this.

(Unless our parents are too busy drugging us like they did for this Christmas photo. Try not to be jealous of my amazing outfit.)

I'm old and my body hates me

A few weeks ago, I turned 40 30 for the tenth time.

Confession: This is not my party.

And my body has pretty much been breaking ever since. I rolled my left ankle (which technically happened before my birthday, but my body doesn’t care about those details and all it knows is F this tri season) and wasn’t able to run for awhile.

And just when I thought I was starting to get better (even finishing third in my AG at Cinco Du Mayo – who cares if there were only like seven people in the field and they only gave hardware to the first- and second-place finishers so I didn't even get to stand on an actual podium), my calf and the rest of my leg got screwed up somehow and now I have shin splints that are so painful my coach thinks maybe I could have a stress reaction or fracture.

Icing my calf and eating this entire pizza all by myself.

 And then yesterday I opened the front door onto my foot and tore my toenail. 

You're welcome.

Victoria 70.3 is less than two weeks away. I feel so craptacular and disheartened that I bought this:

I just really need something to laugh at. (Also, there's probably a totally inappropriate metaphor here.)