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.

pre-race thoughts

I’m doing the Liberty Triathlon Olympic -- my first tri of the season -- on Saturday as a practice race for Vineman 70.3 next month.

However, the term “practice” doesn’t mean I’m freaking out any less. Current sources of stress include:

• It’s going to be 95 degrees and humid on race day.
• Sleeveless wetsuit or sleeves? (Hell, will I even still fit into a wetsuit?)
• Tri bike or road bike? I’ve only ridden Minivan (a.k.a. the tri bike) outside twice so far this season, and neither ride happened recently. My last two rides – including a metric century – were on Muppet (a.k.a. the road bike). However, I want to ride Minivan at Vineman. Or do I? Because Vineman is hilly so maybe I should ride Muppet. And Muppet is from Northern California, so this would be like a homecoming for her. But if I ride Muppet, then why do I own Minivan? Shouldn’t I be racing on Minivan? (I actually woke up at 3 a.m. recently and couldn't go back to sleep because of this.) 
• My left knee hurts. 
• I feel like I’m about to come down with a cold. 
• I have not swum in open water since October. 
• The word “swum.” It’s weird, right? Doesn’t it make you feel weird?
• Being embarrassingly slow.  

My neuroses is so bad that I told the mister he is not allowed to spectate because I'm certain it's going to be a comedy show, and I don't want him to have to wait around for hours while I muddle through.

tapering

I love taper. I know some people hate it and feel restless, but I welcome the extra time and use it to get a lot of important life stuff done. Like napping. And baking a quiche.

And teaching the kitten how to walk on a leash.

The best part was when my neighbor came home and found me outside with the cat. My response: "Hi. This is totally normal."

*

Yesterday I had my last brick workout -- two hours on the bike, followed by an hour run. And even though the weather was gorgeous, Coach Mark put me on the trainer. Smart move, considering my recent history of slipping on railroad tracks and riding into walls. Best not to crash one week before race day.

Unfortunately, I made the poor choice of watching "Spring Breakers" during my workout. Pro tip: Do not ever, ever subject yourself to this. Life is better without the horror of James Franco with dreads and a grill leading a trio of bikini-clad, gun-wielding college girls. 

*

So my toxic Ohio River stress dream may actually become reality. Surprisingly, I'm not that worried about it. I'll roll with whatever they decide. Mostly, I just don't want to get sick and end up with explosive diarrhea and projectile vomit on the bike. Or the run. Or pretty much any time ever. (Side note: A good ice-breaker is to ask total strangers: "Would you rather have explosive diarrhea or projectile vomit?" Never fails to result in a passionate reaction. Try it as an interview question some time.)

Ironman Louisville: One week.

germs

So you're probably wondering where the hell I've been.

The answer:

Last Tuesday, exactly 12 days from race day, I came down with a horrible lung infection that knocked me out for four days. It was so bad that I got winded walking to the kitchen. And going from my car to the pharmacy made me so tired I was seeing spots. I ended up getting a chest X-ray because I was convinced I had pneumonia. (Side note: When you get a chest X-ray, don't wear a see-through shirt. Because even though you keep your shirt on for the X-ray, you have to take your bra off, so if you're in a see-through shirt, the whole point of the shirt is pretty much moot, and then the X-ray guy gets a free show. Not that this happened to me or anything.)

Thankfully, no pneumonia. Just a viral infection that was exacerbated by my asthma. (Yes, I have asthma. And it's allergy-induced, so it never rears its ugly head unless I eat gluten or pop an aspirin -- or apparently, come down with a horrible lung infection 12 days before Ironman.)

Now I'm trying to recover as much as I can for Sunday's big race. I had a successful trainer workout over the weekend -- easy, mellow Zone 2 stuff at a high cadence. This made me very happy.

(Just FYI, that white thing is my bike saddle, not a penis.)

Pervert kitten says, "Mom took off her shirt! Gasp!"

I also had a good swim yesterday -- coughed a little at first, but once I warmed up, breathing was fine.

Running, however, is another story. I managed 30 minutes of run-walk-cough-curse Saturday morning, covering a whopping distance of two miles.

But I'm hopeful. Each day seems better than the previous one, so maybe by this weekend, I'll be feeling like myself again.

Six days!

in countdown mode

The big first for this weekend: Flying with Muppet.

Maček really wanted to pack the bike box.

Went to the local triathlon store today to learn how to take her apart and properly stow her.

Dismemberment?

I'll be taking her to another store tomorrow when we land to get her reassembled -- paranoid I won't be able to put her together correctly and my handlebars will fall off mid-race or something. But my goal is take her apart myself Sunday night for the flight home. (Guys, I bought a pedal wrench!)

Final prep also included my pre-race pep talk with Coach Mark today. He had me detail my entire nutrition plan -- timing, calories, target intake, pre-race dinner, pre-race breakfast, etc. Nutrition is what I'm most nervous about -- it's what destroyed my run last year. Mark reminded me that I control my nutrition, so I should quit worrying about it and just make it happen. He also told me to be smart with my foot -- it's been some time since the stress fracture, but I still want to be careful and listen to my body, especially if something seems off.

And then he said: "I thought of you today. I don't know what I ate, but I've been really sick and haven't been able to keep anything down. It's awful."

In other words, when my coach has diarrhea, I immediately come to mind.

(I suppose that's my own damn fault after this incident.)

Despite being apparently permanently associated with poop in the minds of everyone who knows me, I feel good about Vineman. Like I've said before, I've worked really hard over the past six months, and I'm excited to see what will happen on the race course. Mentally, I'm also ready -- instead of being anxious, I feel like I have nothing to lose since I've been through so much hell already this year. Vineman is nothing compared to death and cancer.

Bring it.

it's taper week when ...

All you can think about is food. And how you must have it, every two to three hours.

You are not above ordering an entire pizza just for yourself as an afternoon snack at work and then polishing the whole thing off in one sitting while your coworkers stare.

You cannot watch UFC because it makes you want to use the Jon Jones elbow smash on your server, who seems to have gotten lost on the way back to the table to take your order.

For dessert, you opt for a heaping plate of mashed potatoes.

You hate the poor soul who has agreed to be your emergency contact because it's 5:30 in the morning and you're wide awake and your stomach is growling and he's still sleeping and how dare he sleep through your hunger, goddammit.

You and your running buddy gasp your way through 800s while talking about all of the things you want to shove in your mouths for dinner as soon as you are done with this track workout.

You tell the really drunk friend at the bar that he should eat something so he'll feel better, but really you're just planning to eat all of the food he orders because he's too drunk to know any better.

In the time it has taken your brunch companion to eat three bites, you've inhaled an entire omelette, a side of cheesy grits and two pieces of fruit.

Berlin: Six days.

tapering?

Six days until the big race. I think maybe this means I'm tapering now. But if I didn't actually really train, am I actually really tapering? Such are the big questions in my life at the moment. (Other big questions: What can I eat next? Is it time for third lunch? What do cats think about all day?)

I did my last long ride this past Thursday -- 56 miles. Which brought my total bike mileage last week to 109 -- the most I've ever ridden in one week in my whole life. (By the way, I don't necessarily recommend going from zero miles one week to 109 miles the next. Especially if you'd like to retain sensation in your lady parts.) Highlights from the ride included this random field somewhere near Redmond:

The random guy who rode up next to me just to tell me that the matchy-matchiness of my bike kit was awesome. (Seriously, why isn't the fourth event in triathlon a fashion contest? I could go pro.)

And this random prison park bathroom that was much worse than any dirty port-a-potty I have ever been in:

There were no stall doors. And no toilet seats. And dirty toilet paper everywhere. And have I ever told you that I have recurring dreams about awkward horrible bathrooms? Like bathrooms where the stall door is too short, so everyone can see you sitting there on the toilet. And bathrooms where the toilets are overflowing. And bathrooms where the toilets are arranged in a group format, so everyone goes together. And bathrooms where the floor leading up to the toilet is so steep that you have to crawl on your hands and knees to make it to the commode without slipping. (I am a normal person, I swear.)

Imagine my horror when I stepped into this bathroom and my nightmares became reality! And yet I went anyway, because I really had to go and I pee really fast, so I figured I could out-pee anyone who might walk in. (Peeing should be another triathlon event. I would also win that one.)

I also swam at Alki over the weekend. (Look! I have friends here in Seattle!)

And then did a little SUP afterward.

Another personal nightmare: Photos of myself in a bikini. Apparently, tapering means facing your demons head-on. Or maybe butt-on, as this photo would imply.

stronger

Two days before Vineman, and I'm realizing I've forgotten to tell you about my last triathlon -- my first Olympic distance race, the Reservoir Triathlon in Morgan Hill.

Only two things really mattered going in: (1) Swimming sans freakout. (2) Actually finishing this one.

The swim: 46:10 -- slow for most people, miraculous for me. Hell, I almost started crying halfway through because I realized: Holy crap, I am really doing this. I am not panicking or backstroking or drowning. I am swimming 1.5K in open water and everything is fine. Yes, I had trouble sighting, and at one point, I looked up and there was a buoy right in front of my face, but does that really matter? I can swim!

T1: 4:11. Apparently, when you're euphoric over your swim success, you don't want to take off your wetsuit immediately.

The bike: 1:47:33. Again, slow for the rest of the world, but right on target for my turtle ass. I felt mostly OK, until the last mile or so, when my stomach started cramping and I thought I might shit my pants. Brown bikeseat? Not really the look I was going for, folks. Not so much.

T2: 1:42. You know what sucks? When you get to T2 and people are packing their gear and going home already. Damn you, fast people.

The run: 1:20:46. Nothing short of horrible. It normally takes me less than an hour to run a 10K, but the cramping was so bad that I literally couldn't run. I had to walk the first three miles because I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up or take a massive dump. And I couldn't eat anything because my stomach was so upset. But at this point, I was too far in to give up. If I had to crawl across that finish line with poo smeared on my face, I probably would have. Luckily, it didn't come to that.

Overall: 4:00:22. Eighth last out of everyone. Someone needs to give out awards for us slowpokes. I bet we fought just as hard as all you "winners."

So I did it. It was far from pretty or fast or heroic. But who the hell really cares? I finished, I got something out of it (swimming!) and I learned what not to do next time. (For example, you will not find me stealing food from a high school prom this weekend.)

And that's how I'm approaching Vineman. Yes, I'm ready. I've done all I can do. (And yes, this time, my nutrition is much more dialed in and hopefully I won't be threatening to shit myself mid-race.)

It's probably going to take me a long-ass time. And yes, everyone else will have aero helmets and TT bikes (you have no idea how intimidating it was to drive home from work today and see all the TT bikes heading up the freeway to Windsor), and I will have Bibi the Aluminum Frame Princess and Crash Survivor.

But I will have homecourt advantage. I know that river inside and out (and yes, I've swum it without a wetsuit, just in case that's an issue Sunday morning). And I've ridden the entire bike course. (Here's a secret -- I love Chalk Hill!) And the run course happens to be where I trained for my first marathon and where I hold my half marathon PR. Also, my co-workers will be playing my fight song at our winery's aid station.

So here's to the weekend and the culmination of what's been an incredible, ridiculous, frustrating, exhilarating, challenging adventure.

Vineman, here I come.

perspective

Here's a question for the other bloggers out there: Let's say your blog focuses mainly on one or two topics and you rarely stray from those themes and you do a pretty good job of skirting nicely around your personal life or anything remotely emotional.

And then something absolutely horribly tragic happens. And it makes everything you write about and think about feel really, really stupid and trivial and selfish.

So what do you do? Do you continue as normal because getting into anything personal is TMI and just too painful? Or do you address it and risk revealing too much?

All I know is now Vineman seems like nothing.

on tapering

This is quite possibly the best shirt ever. And if I had found it several weeks ago, instead of just the other day, I would be wearing it right now. (And yesterday. And tomorrow. And the day after that. I would basically just wear it until my boss told me to stop, kind of like how he told me last week that I needed to clean my desk because it was piled high with used dishes, magazines, notebooks and balled-up paper towels.)

Anyway, currently I am eating. In fact, I have been eating all day. Pretty much non-stop since I woke up.

I made a blueberry, almond milk and whey protein (I love this stuff -- it's actually Bourbon-flavored!) smoothie this morning, drank half of it at home, ate gluten-free pretzels in the car on the way to work, drank the rest of the smoothie at work, immediately ate some string cheese right afterward, mowed a Clif Bar, had a 49er roll, miso soup and salad for lunch at Ume (where my server told me she is also a triathlete and is doing Barb's in a few weeks), ate a piece of mochi ice cream at the office for dessert (I have conveniently stashed a box in the freezer here), found a half-empty small bag of Kettle Chips that someone abandoned in the break room (yes, I am the scavenger who snuck that back to my desk -- it's fine until someone actually sees you do it) and now I am eating the leftover brown rice-asparagus-tofu-mushroom saute that I made for dinner last night.

And since I am swimming at Johnson's tonight, there'a a strong chance that I will end up at boon later for more food.

Also, I am extra-moody. (Today I yelled at my friend because I felt he "stared too much." Really?) And extra-tired.

Basically, I think tapering is just an excuse to eat a bunch of food, sleep too much and act like a raging bitch.

Aren't you glad this will all be over in five days?

six days

... and another dead body.

Perhaps this is just a (very creepy) coincidence, but this is the second time in less than a week that a dead body has shown up in a place the day after I've been there.

Layla has told me I should never go to her house.

*

Did a few final pre-race body tune-ups today. Went to the chiropractor for a little Hendrickson love.

And then a Pilates reformer session tonight for some core work and lengthening.

*

If a dead body shows up tomorrow at either of those places, something is seriously wrong.