what's playing in the basement

Since I'm not swimming, I've been spending a lot of time on the trainer.

Which means I've been sitting in a freezing-ass basement, inhaling the warm aroma of kitty litter.

And watching a shit-ton of Netflix.

What I'm currently streaming:

The Great British Baking Show 
Premise: Amateur bakers compete for the title of U.K.’s best
Why it works for the trainer: I like to imagine that if I bike hard enough, I’ll ride right through the TV screen and face-first into a giant cake, gluten be damned.

The Keepers
Premise: A docu-series that investigates the unsolved murder of a Baltimore nun
Why it works for the trainer: Workouts fly by because I’m completely overcome with rage at the unfairness in the world and all the horrible people who do horrible things and get away with them. Seriously, is there no justice?

Black Mirror
Premise: Each episode of this British series is a stand-alone drama that critiques technology, media and our modern priorities
Why it works for the trainer: Just watch the second episode of season 1 while you’re on the bike. You’ll feel very, very weird.

opt outside

You know what feels really damn good?

Being able to swim, bike and run outside in November.

Big Ginger and I spent the past week in Sacramento with my family. While we were there, we ran on the American River Trail ...

... swam in an outdoor pool ...

Can you tell I'm excited?

... and did the local turkey trot. (For the record, I missed a 5K PR by 11 seconds, which is amazing, since this race was super crowded, I haven't been running much recently, and I'm recovering from a bad cold.)

Official finish time: 25:31. My 5K PR is 25:21. So close!

And then we came home and -- holy holiday miracle -- it was warm enough to ride outside.

what I watch on the trainer

Today I woke up at 5 a.m. to get on the trainer (for the record, this "taper" doesn't feel very much like tapering). To keep me company on the bike, I watched "The Leftovers", a show about how 2 percent of the world's population just suddenly vanishes one day and then the people who are left are consumed by grief and angst and religious cults. Good times!

When I got off the trainer, I couldn't find Maček. I opened all the closets, checked under all the furniture, lifted up the all the blankets. Mari and Mouse were there, but no Maček. And all I could think was: Holy shit, Maček has departed! She's left us all behind! But then she jumped down off the bookshelf and everything was fine -- grief and angst and religious cults averted. And then I did my transition run.

"I am the chosen one!"

Anyway, here's a list of what I've been watching on the trainer recently:

"Girls": So awkward (especially every time Hannah gets naked), so annoying (Marnie and Desi), yet so entertaining, and when an episode is brilliant, it's really freaking brilliant (like the one where Hannah goes to surf school). Also the soundtrack is awesome. And Shosh makes me want to move to Japan.

"13 Reasons Why": Yeah, it's depressing as hell, and I feel like it glamorizes suicide, and if I had a teenage kid (Mouse doesn't count), I wouldn't want her to watch this show. But each episode left me wanting to know what happens next. (And now I'm reading the book, which I actually don't like as much as the show.)

"Anne with an E": If you're a kindred spirit, then you've read L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables books, too. This Anne's past seems much darker than I remember. Also, she talks a lot. Did Anne really talk this much?

"Voltron: Legendary Defender": When I was a child growing up in the '80s, I had the biggest crush on Prince Lotor. I'm not kidding. Purple skin, white hair -- what a hot piece of evil alien ass. And he returns in the third season of this Netflix remake. Hell, yes.

"Outlander": And speaking of hot men. This one is a ginger and wears a kilt. Also: Time travel is cool. And I really liked these books.

"American Horror Story": I liked the first three seasons quite a bit (especially the coven one), but I'm having trouble making it through the freakshow season. There's just something about a man-child dressed as a creepy clown that doesn't quite do it for me.

blame the flying wieners

You guys, it's finally taper. Holy shit, I'm so grateful.

These two lovely ladies should be known as The Climber (Steena) and Speedy (Megan).

My last big push was this weekend. Megan and I drove to Madison and met up with Steena for the Prairie Athletic Club's "big brick": A swim in Lake Monona, the full Ironman bike course, and a transition run afterward. (So basically one long-ass training day.)

Look at all my new friends!

The swim was fine -- I went for an hour. My neck and left arm hurt, but I seem to always have this pain now, so I've embraced it as part of my identity. (This is likely not healthy, but whatever.)

The bike, however, was anything but fine. About 10 miles in, I dropped some of my nutrition (yes, wieners flew out of my jersey) and had to turn around. The group I was riding with kept going, and I ended up alone. And since I've never ridden this course before, I had no idea where I was, so I had to stop a few times to check the turn-by-turn directions.

Barlow was a beast as expected. I rode most of it, but walked the steepest part. I'm glad I did because I still had two-thirds of the course left to ride, with so many more hills to go, and my legs were already tired. If I had ridden Barlow, I think I would've blown up and possibly not finished the ride.

I got lost trying to start the second loop and ended up cutting some of the course short, only to make it into Verona and promptly get lost again. With the exception of riding a few miles with Megan (who had also gotten lost), eventually finding the rest of the group, and flying down some incredible descents (44 mph at one point -- amazing!), the rest of the ride was a slog. I dropped more nutrition going over a pothole, I wasn't taking in enough calories or hydration, and my legs were shot.

For all of two seconds, I kept up with Megan. This photo was the result.

Diane, one of the PAC athletes (and quite possibly the world's kindest person), stayed with me to make sure I finished. And somehow I got it done. I was beat up mentally and physically and felt like I had nothing in the tank, but I still managed to get off the bike and do a 40-minute transition run.

I spent much of my drive back from Madison this morning thinking about what went wrong and what I need to fix for race day.

This is what I need to do:

• Above all, eat and drink. I wasn't eating or drinking enough in the days leading up to this brick, and I took in fewer calories on this ride than on my previous long training rides -- basically I set myself up for failure this weekend.
• The bike is probably going to take me about eight hours to complete, which means that with my slow swimming, I won't have much wiggle room. (Yes, I still have PTSD from Arizona, when I almost didn't make the bike cutoff.) I have to be efficient with my transitions.
• Better secure my nutrition so it doesn't go flying off of my bike.
• Plan to walk Barlow again on race day.
• Get a massage and possibly some acupuncture and try to get rid of as much of my neck and arm pain as possible.
• Make sleep a priority.

And hopefully I won't get lost anymore because the course will be marked and there will be volunteers and support out there on race day and if I do still somehow manage to get lost, I have a serious problem.

Onward: Less than three weeks left!

soaking up summer

Everyone is freaking out because Labor Day came and went and summer is supposedly now over and it's just a matter of time before we're all wearing wool sweaters and buried under a layer of ice.

So I'm making the most of these final pre-snowpocalypse days. I've been riding outside as much as possible, whether that means on one of my bikes ...

Made it to the Cathedral of St. Paul!

Or on a bikeshare.

This weekend I cut my run short because I found a Gnarly Ride and absolutely had to grab it. And just where did I take it?

Chocolate almond with an Izzy scoop of raspberry sorbet. Oh yeah!

Ice cream. Duh.

Speaking of adventures in dairy, I went to my very first Minnesota State Fair, where being a princess means you get your face sculpted out of butter.

I told the mister we should have a kid just so she can become a princess and be immortalized in butter and it is our duty as parents to do everything we can to ensure her success. His response: "Have you heard the term 'butter face'?"

OK, mister. You win. This time. (Also, maybe the State Fair people should look at UrbanDictionary.com because I'm pretty sure these nice teenage girls don't want to be called butter faces.)

Here's to the final few weeks of not having to wear down-filled coats.

not your average bike race

You know when something is so awesome you want everyone you like to experience it too? (Meanwhile, the people you don't like can learn about it, only they find out too late, after the event has already sold out, so they stare wistfully at their computer screens while a loud "WOMP WOMP" plays in the background.) That's how I feel about the Urban Assault Ride -- a wacky bike event that's part "Amazing Race," part obstacle course and designed to get you outside, exploring urban trails and learning about the city you live in.

Seriously, it is so much fun.

The mister and I saddled up yesterday to compete as Team Tubby Sharks. (Backstory: He's had a fat stuffed shark named Shark Dog since college. And I had the same exact shark growing up, so clearly it's fate we're together. Only he's a better shark parent than I am, since I have no idea where my shark is now and I periodically text my mom and ask her to look for it, and then she ignores my texts. I have a strong suspicion she's donated my shark to Goodwill. I also have a strong suspicion I may get in trouble for telling the whole world about my boyfriend's stuffed animal.)

Shark Dog is locked and loaded.

The event started at Surly Brewing, and there were five regular checkpoints with challenges (everything from puzzles to obstacles to jumping in a pool with all your clothes on) and two "mystery stops." (You had to solve an anagram to find the first mystery stop, and once you got there, they gave you the clue for the second mystery stop, which was a photo of a tower -- you had to figure out what the tower was and where it was located, and then bike there.)

I was excited to unearth my commuter bike (whose name is Maude and who has been sadly neglected for years and years) and not wear spandex for once. Shark Dog was excited to make new friends.

Here we are at the first checkpoint!

And the mister was excited about our detour to the new Vikings stadium. 

Gorgeous, isn't it? Plus I ate a hot dog while we were there. Because why not preview the food too, right? (Don't worry -- I'm still a Niners fan.)

Then it was off to the first mystery stop at First Avenue ...

... followed by some skateboard bowling at another checkpoint ...

... and some slingshot action. (Note: They make you wear your helmet the whole time, even when you're not on the bike. Clearly, they know how clumsy I am.)

Isn't this a really attractive pose?

My favorite challenge was the paperboy route -- the mister rode in circles and threw newspapers at me, and I had to catch three of them in a plastic USPS box. Super fun and ridiculous.

The event finished back at Surly, with a big wheel ride.

And then everyone got two beer tickets. I gave mine to Shark Dog since I'm a glutard.

"Mmm. Surly Hell is delicious!"

And then we hung out, ate food truck fare and rode mini bikes.

This is way more difficult than it looks.

An awesome way to spend the morning!

#seenonmyride

Now that Vineman is over and there is no pressure to ride for a set number of hours at a target effort, I can get back on my road bike and tool around.

Which is exactly what I did today. Muppet and I took a leisurely cruise, exploring the bike trails around Minneapolis. We stopped for photos when we felt like it, ate and drank when we felt like it, made U-turns and backtracked and said "I wonder where this goes."

And yes, I absolutely refer to us as "we." Because Muppet and I are life partners.

Four young bucks, antlers still covered in velvet.

The country's first public-access natural swimming pool -- gorgeous!

I have no idea what this is, but it makes me think: "Mosquitos!"

ask me about discomfort

Current status:

Do you like my pedicure?

Remember my recent "my left knee hurts" complaint? Turns out my left IT band and hamstring are so tight they've been pulling on my knee. The pain was enough yesterday that I skipped my long run and then went to the chiropractor today for some intense Graston action. Hence the bruising (which is a totally normal thing after this treatment, I promise). I'm already feeling better, but may still keep the running easy, especially since I'm less than three weeks away from Vineman.

Anyway, this weekend was a brutal one for training. The heat and humidity were overwhelming. (Dear Minnesota: I thought you were supposed to be cold. WTF.) I did my long ride -- 65 miles -- on Saturday. Even though I brought ample hydration and nutrition and followed my plan exactly, by mile 45, I knew something was wrong. I started feeling really drowsy -- like I could just shut my eyes and fall asleep mid-ride.  

The part when I seriously considered lying on the side of the road.

And it got worse. The air was stifling, and when there was wind, it felt like a hair dryer hitting my face. And when I stopped at a park to use the restroom, taking my shorts off was a struggle because they were so soaked through with sweat. (However, I was happy I could still pee. At least there was that.) And when I got back on the bike, I started to feel chilled, and my heart rate was in zone 4, even though I was riding really slowly.

(Meanwhile, this entire time, I also had a bug bite in the crease between my upper thigh and my lady parts. So imagine that too -- sweat plus awkward bug bite plus extreme heat plus hours in the saddle. And if you're wondering how the hell I got a bug bite there, it happened at last week's race. I changed out of my tri shorts into regular shorts after the race, and somehow a bug flew up there. And I totally felt it happen. It was like a sudden pinch. And I actually stuck my hand up my shorts to figure out what was going on. And this was mid-conversation. So if you happened to be the person I was talking to while I shoved my hand toward my crotch in discomfort, sorry.)

Thankfully (my awkward bug bite and) I made it safely to my car, only to learn the outside temperature was 95 degrees. I nixed the T run and went home.

Not the most productive training weekend.

fine evening for an ass-kicking

I rode with the local tri club tonight. Although "with" is a strong word.

I suspected things were going to be challenging when I put my kit on and immediately thought: This is not what this kit looked like last fall. That observation was then followed by: I feel like a stuffed sausage.

And then only three other women showed up for the ride. Everyone else was a guy. And these guys all had massive legs. Like their thighs were Groot.

And it was windy. And there were Louisville-style rollers. And this was my first time taking Minivan outdoors since Ironman last October.

I got dropped immediately.

Thankfully, one of the ladies circled back and kept me company. Which involved me working as hard as I could to keep up with her, while she coasted along and pointed out parks and lakes and farmland and beautiful scenery. And I would've participated more in the conversation, but I was pretty much trying not to pass out and die. I'm still eternally grateful she didn't leave me, though.

I came home and lay on the floor. And no wonder -- my Garmin stats said I had reached a maximum heart rate of 182. Which is beyond anaerobic capacity. And my average was 162, which is my Zone 5.

I seriously don't know how I'm not dead.

Clearly the cats are wondering the same thing, as the slowly circle and wait to eat my corpse.

how to start the day

Not a bad spot for the trainer, right?

I love getting on the bike first thing in the morning, before the sun comes up. I love watching the sky shift from dark to day, the city lights sparkle and then go out, the streets slowly fill with people and cars.

But the best part of this wonderful, peaceful, pristine moment? Listening to really creepy-ass podcasts. Because nothing makes a pre-dawn workout fly by like stories of cannibalism and insane asylums and getting buried alive.

(If this sounds awesome to you, then we should be best friends and you should check out Lore and then we can drink whiskey and discuss our favorite episode, which for me is currently a tie between the Icelandic elves who live in giant boulders and the homeless man who broke into a mausoleum, fell through the floor and found himself in a pit of rotting corpses.)

rough go. or something.

I've been sitting here for the past five minutes, trying to figure out how to use the phrase "rough go" to describe the last week or so of training, but not being quite sure whether the correct use is "rough go of" or "rough go at." Also, the whole thing kind of sounds pornographic, so maybe I should really just scrap the phrase altogether.

Welcome to my brain.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the last week or so of training has been challenging. Today I had a seven-hour ride on my schedule, and even though it was drizzly and wet outside, I couldn't bear the thought of spending seven hours on the trainer. So I drove up to Snohomish to ride the Centennial Trail (which is awesome and you should ride it). 

And all was going well until I slipped on wet railroad tracks and ended up on the ground. You know that moment when you look down and you're bleeding and you're shocked because holy shit there is blood and it's yours and then suddenly you feel light-headed and like you might pass out? Yes. That moment.

Just road rash and bruises.

Thankfully, a very kind woman (who unfortunately was wearing a Seahawks jersey so now I can't hate the Seahawks anymore, goddammit) named Melissa and her daughter Lexi stopped to help me. God bless them. They called 911, and the paramedics came, made sure nothing was broken and bandaged me up. And when I told the medics my age, wonderful Lexi exclaimed: "Wow! You look really young!" And when I took my helmet off, she said, "You're so cute!"

Pro tip: If you ever feel bad about yourself, I strongly recommend crashing your bike in Arlington and letting the affirmations flow.

Melissa and Lexi then drove me 20 miles back to my car. And we talked about horror movies and the mean girls in high school (Lexi starts her freshman year Tuesday) and how Taylor Swift is the best ever. I hope they win the lottery.

And that's just the most recent bad training story. Yesterday I got out of bed and put all my running gear on and started eating breakfast and then felt sick to my stomach, so I went back to bed (still wearing all my running gear -- Garmin and heart rate monitor included) and slept all day. When I finally got up and went for my run, I got caught in a thunderstorm and torrential downpour that was so bad I almost crawled under a semi trailer for shelter at one point.

At least I wore a black sports bra.

And I had another running fail earlier this week -- double workout last Tuesday, with a 3,300-yard swim in the morning and track in the evening. I didn't eat enough during the day and almost passed out at track. Coach T made me lie on the ground and then sent me home for dinner.

And then last weekend, there was a huge windstorm so I spent a total of 10 hours on the trainer -- four one day and six the next. Pretty sure my downstairs neighbors hate me. (And can you really blame me for wanting to ride outside today after 10 hours on the trainer last weekend?)

Yes, that is a hot dog.

And on top of all of this, I'm just downright exhausted. 

Ironman Louisville: Five weeks and counting.

how to do it wrong

Fly to the Midwest for "vacation." Drink wine and Japanese whisky to celebrate finally being reunited with one of your favorite people in the whole entire world. Stuff your face with sushi in the shape of a dragon.

When you are so full you can barely function, waddle back to the apartment, where you will then decide there is no better time than now to adjust the road bike you rented. Allow your favorite person to then convince you it is a good idea to test the bike fit by attempting to ride down the hallway of his apartment.

Immediately crash into the wall on your left, bounce off of it, smash your face against the wall on the right and then end up in a heap on the floor, still clipped in to your pedals. Laugh hysterically while your favorite person tries to drag you back into his apartment before the neighbors come out and ask you why the hell you are riding bikes in the hallway in the first place.

Spend the rest of the evening trying to casually ice your face and appear totally nonchalant about your human pinball impression. Fail completely.

But still somehow manage to get up the next day for a five-hour ride.

Complete the ride, despite the fact that your right shifter is now crooked and your face is so sore it hurts to smile. Pray that your favorite person's family doesn't notice the bruise that is slowly but surely forming on your cheek.

(That may or may not be a Timberwolves shirt.)

Watch helplessly as the bruise gets progressively greener every day.

Return to Seattle. End up on the train back from the airport next to a strange man who is wearing nothing but a bedsheet. When he smiles at you, think: "Wow, Mr. Bedsheet is really nice and maybe isn't all that big of a weirdo!"

And then realize you have a bruise on your face, so Mr. Bedsheet may look sane in comparison.

misadventures, per usual

So I was just now Googling "chocolate poo mold." Because I'm doing Swim for (Dear) Life again next week and our team is Team Fecal Coliform Bacteria (which is why you should never let me name anything) and no one has donated to my fundraising page (which is here, in case you would like to change that) and I'm hoping to entice people with homemade chocolate poo. (My logic is flawless, thank you very much.)

Anyway, since this post has pretty much already gone down the toilet, yesterday my bike peed herself. 

Mouse's first instinct: Play in it!

You'll recall I'm having hydration setup issues, so this time, I decided to give Minivan's built-in bladder system a shot. I followed the directions, and everything seemed fine until I poured liquid into the bladder and my bike started peeing.

The problem: The straw kept getting disconnected from the bladder, and then all the liquid would seep out.

I was under a bit of a time crunch yesterday (this is what happens when the man who cuts your hair is the type who doesn't talk at all while he does the deed so you think maybe he is silently judging you especially since you showed up at your appointment wearing a trucker hat because your hair was that bad and he actually kind of scoffed at the hat but then he does such an incredible job that you keep going back even though you wonder if maybe this is an unhealthy relationship), so I abandoned the bladder and relied on my bottles instead. (Thankfully, none of them fell out this time.)

Of course, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor and seems to want to toy with my stress levels, I got stuck in a footrace 30 minutes into my ride.

I re-routed and got back on track. Although not without a lot of grumbling and also my heart rate monitor wasn't working and I was still frustrated by the peeing incident and it was really tempting to just go home and get on the trainer. But eventually I got over it all and regained a more positive mindset.

Only to get stuck in a second footrace.

Not shown: The spectator who asked if I brought lunch to pass the time.

At this point, I was convinced the universe wanted me to have bad hair. But all those people eventually passed, and I got my ride done. It was long and slow and cumbersome -- still trying to build that relationship with Minivan. Shifting is coming more naturally, and my neck and shoulders are hurting less, but I still find the rear water cages awkward and am a bit too fidgety with positioning.

However, at least things with nutrition are going well. I really love this stuff. It may replace the hot dog for me. (Which is a good thing, since carrying a hot dog around for hours in your jersey pocket sort of seems like an invitation for food poisoning.)

I guess I did bring lunch. Mmm. Pizza.

I eventually finished my ride. And then I did a T run (because I'm only nine weeks away from Ironman now -- gah). And then I came home and found this on the living room floor:

That would be the attachment for the new hydration system.

I almost put her on Craigslist.

And that wasn't the only surprise.

Nothing like piles of cat puke to warm the heart.

However, I did make it to my hair appointment on time. And I was so tired from my workout that I barely noticed the judging and was actually pretty thankful for the silence and lack of small talk.