Poker Face

I lived through the bad week I wrote about here.

Not surprisingly, the stress of the week allowed a little "wee-beasty" to take refuge in my nose/sinus and caused a nasty little cold.

I let the fever cook for a few days and I finally felt better yesterday. I have not worked out at all for 1 week.

Tomorrow's run is a 14 miler. I'll be running to granite bay and back again. I don't know why, but running to another town sounds so, uhm, impressive.

Sunday is a ride with the Tri group along part of the Auburn Tri course.

Yesterday Hubby wrecked bad on his bike commuting to work. I had to leave work and take him to emergency. His helmet is cracked in 3 places, but i'm grateful that he is basically ok. Broken thumb, along with a hemotoma the size of a grapefruit on his leg. His bike is pretty beat up. Karma ran over his dogma. I have pics, but I'm not sure I should post them. They are really really gross. Really. If I get enough requests, I might do it though.

I decided against doing Vineman. I was really sad when i reached that conclusion, but finances being what they are, I have to consider the bigger picture and spending $400+ for a race, hotel, food, etc simply isn't going to happen this year.

I also opted out of Wildflower in order to do the practice Auburn Tri on April 25.
Focus is on Auburn Tri May 23 and Shamrockn' half marathon on two weeks.

Oh, and I decided to grow my hair out long again.

New Allegations in Floyd Landis Case

02.22.2010 | 11:40 am
A Note from Fatty: A big thanks to Dug for helping me “research” many of the allegations in this news piece.
PARIS (Fat Cyclist Fake News Service) - Floyd Landis, former Tour-de-France champion and longtime sporter of scruffy facial hair, has recently found himself facing a France-based arrest warrant for hacking into the French anti-doping agency AFLD.
Pierre Bordry, head of the AFLD, asserts that “Landis, under cover of the night, wearing black cycling tights and black long-sleeved cycling jersey, snuck into our lab, where — using the mad computer skills he developed in the Computer Hacking Class he took at the local Mennonite Technical College — he proceeded to download all of our most sensitive data, and uploaded all kinds of malware and trojan horses and tasteless, photoshopped images of Thomas Voeckler.”
“Quite clearly, this was Landis’ work,” continued Bordry. “As evidenced by the way he wrote “Floyd wuz here” and “Metallica ROOLZ” on a whiteboard near the computer where he was working.”
“Also, he left candy wrappers, PBR cans, and cookie crumbs all over the place,” continued the AFLD head. “Landis is — in addition to being a doper, hacker, and ninja-like break-in artist — a total slob.”
And today, additional allegations have come to light, casting a still-darker shadow on the already well-shaded cyclist.
More Seriously Illegal Doping Problems
Bordry asserts that, far from merely doping himself, “Floyd Landis also made other people dope. He was sneaking EPO into Basso’s juice, giving Iban Mayo HGH under the pretense that it was mayonnaise, and secretly sneaking all manner of noxious concoctions into Tyler Hamilton’s herbal remedies.”
“We are confident, in fact, that Floyd Landis is responsible for every single doping incident that has ever happened. And for several which have not happened yet,” continued Bordry, his voice quivering with emotion.
Concluded Bordry, “Floyd Landis is the root cause of all doping in the whole universe and must be stopped at once.”
Still More Allegations
Landis’ offenses are not limited to cycling-related activities, according to French authorities. In addition to doping, Landis is guilty of and / or wanted for questioning in France for the following offenses:
• Being the originator of the term “Freedom Fries”
• Owning several McDonald’s franchises in Paris
• Disliking very thin pancakes
• Knocking down and ridiculing a mime, simply because the mime was wearing a beret
• Being possibly descended from Henry V
• Claiming to not consider Amelie to be the best film ever made
• Wearing excessively gauche attire
• Drinking beer while eating fish, instead of going with a nice white wine
• Causing the French defeat in the Battle of Dien Bien Phu
What This Does NOT Mean
According to Bordry, none of this has anything to do with circumventing the conclusion of Landis’ suspension from ranks of professional cyclists and keeping Landis out of France — and hence, from ever making another attempt at a Tour de France win. “Of course we realize that we are investigating Landis for a crime to which another person has already confessed,” said Bordry. “But we want to be absolutely certain.”
When asked why this warrant has not been distributed outside of French territory, Bordry remarked, “That is an excellent question, and I hereby issue an arrest warrant for you, should you ever enter France.”

Things that make you go "HMMMmmm"

This post will have quite a few bad words, explatives, and me pondering the ontological mystery that is "LIFE". This post may be considered a "bitchfest". Consider yourself warned.

The last few days have been a shitstorm of crap.
Last week went well. Did all my workouts--didn't even skip one. Was good on my paces for speed work. After what seemed like a million weekends of rainy weather, the NWS promised blue skies and sunny 70-degree weather--and it was a 3-day weekend! All should have been well.

But--oh, it was about to get bad.

I started saturday with a ride with my tri group. Ride was supposed to be 40-50 miles and cover the first 1/3 of the Auburn Triathlon course. Perfect. Just what I have been wanting to do.

I got to the starting point, unloaded the bike, got geared up and said the usual pleasantries to the other group members. All was awesome. Perhaps bulleted points might be the best way to describe the events of the next hour.

• Realized that although I loaded myself up with tons of food, i forgot a second water bottle.
  
• realized that the 40 mile group wouldn't be stopping for water.
  
• Got ditched by the 40 mile group when I was stopped at a turn signal and nobody realized it but me.
  
• Decided to make the best of the situation and go through Rolling hills with the group going 20 miles. Considered doing two-20 mile loops.
  
• Realized I didn't have water for two-20 mile loops either.
  
• Realized that the 20 mile loop was really only 16 miles.
  
• Realized that although I can climb ok, my descents suck.
  
• Got home and tried to whine to my husband.
  
• He told me to 'man up' and that it was my own fault for getting ditched. As if I wasn't already feeling bad enough.
  
• Yelled at my husband in front of everyone on my street.
  
• He yelled back (as he was leaving for his bike ride), "get cancer and die."
  
• I cried.
  
  
  Oh, this was just Saturday. There are two more days in the long weekend.
  
  
• Sunday's 12 mile run went really well. 1:53 for 12 miles.
  
• because my legs were so toasted from the long run, I decided to put off my swimming time trial until monday.
  
• I drank a lot mostly because RR#2 was working my last nerve with her, Oh my god it's valentines day and i didn't get to see my boyfriend crap. Then she cried for 2 hours, then she yelled at us for ruining her life. Great. Pass the Boeger Barbera please. I spent sunday evening drinking margaritas and red wine. A lot of red wine.
  
  Monday started out really promising. I slept in and then decided to hit the pool for my timetrial. 1000 yards as fast as I can.
  
• Got to the pool at noon. 4 people per lane. No joke. And not 4 graceful, people. 4 writhing and twisting and running in place and trying to learn how to swim people.
  
• I watched everyone and carefully chose a lane that had 2 men it it who were going slow, but doing continuous freestyle laps. That's the ticket!
  
• Got punched in the head, face, and leg by the bozos.
  
• Switched lanes and commented to the guy that I needed to change lanes before I ended up like Robin Tyson.
  
• Guy yelled at the two guys in my prior lane and almost started a fight.
  
• Finally gave up on trying to swim after two elderly ladies entered my lane and started standing at the shallow end and talking. Not swimming, not blowing bubbles. Just blocking the end of the lane and chatting about their grandkids.
  
• Got home and showered only to realize I promised hubby that I would go mtn. biking with him.
  
• "OK" I said, "But it has to be an easy pace and only a couple of miles."
  
• 3 miles and two big hills later I asked to turn around. He yelled at me, calling me all sorts of names and saying it was embarrasing that I was always last in my age group.
  
• I walked my bike back to the car, because according to idiot, I shouldn't have a mountain bike anyway.
  
• Impaled the back of my right calf on the front gear ring.
  
• Calf looks infected now.
  
  Tuesday.
  
• Fought more with hubby via email, phone, and text message.
  
• Started to really question my sanity over doing the Auburn Triathlon. What the hell am I doing? Why? What am I doing here? I'll never finish. I won't even make the swim cutoff.
  
• Got into an argument with my mom over my lack of attention to her because of my training.
  
  Wednesday
  
• Continued to question my training committment.
  
• Realized that the ONE day of the year that the Auburn Tri Course is OPEN for PRACTICE is the same day as the Wildflower Century.
  
• When I registered for wildflower I paid registration ($55) + bought jersey ($75) + bought "SPECIAL CENTURY FINISHERS JERSEY" ($75).
  
• Still questioning what I should do. Then I got this email.
  
  Hi Karen,
  This email is to inform you that you have been accepted off the waitlist for the 2010 Vineman Ironman 70.3. Please read the instructions below and then follow the link to sign up for the race.
  
  You will have 7 days to complete your registration process. After that date you will no longer be considered for the event and your name removed from the waitlist acceptance list.
  
  Once on the registration page you will need to select your name from the drop down box. Then you will need to put in your password.
  

FK me. Really?

Friday Five Ten

Friday Five Ten

• Decided to forgo the Super Bowl run in order to ride 60 miles on my bike. Sunday was the only sunny day available to ride in more than a week so I had to RIDE. Running was optional so I blew off the race. Not a good start to the 2010 race season but the weather has been so bad, I have to take the riding days when I can.
  
  
• Apparently I was moved from the “A group” (aka slowest) to the “B Group” in my FIT training weeks ago. I just never got the email from my trainer. I was feeling really good about “blowing away” the 76 year old man and the 55 year old woman in the A group during our intervals. B group is full of 30-something women who are ass kickers in their age group. The kind of women who yell, “Go Girl GO!” as they pass you sprinting around the track. Now, I’m scared.
  
  
• I watched “The Soloist” last night on HBO and it made me cry. Such a good story, but also so very very sad. I tried hard to hold back the tears but it was no use. Then hubby came into the bedroom with his eyes red and teary. He was watching the same thing in another room. I don’t know what’s sadder—the movie OR the fact that we were isolated in our own house experiencing the same emotional turmoil.
  
  
• Work is crazy. Really Crazy. People are cranky and upset all the time. I smile at everyone while I walk down the hallway for my 50th pee break of the day. I’m sure co-workers think I’m high. I don’t’ care though, cause my new-ish boss thinks I’m doing “Excellent” work. Not bad for being in the fiscal field and never even taking one econ, accounting, budgeting or business course in my whole life. Not bad at all.
  
  
• I’m reading “THRIVE” by Brendan Brazier. Good info, but not sure that I buy everything he’s selling. Yes fruits, veggies, etc are good for all of us. But eating them a lot will send me to the bathroom a lot. And there is no way I’m eliminating coffee from my diet. No. Way. NO WAY! Step away from my coffee mug and nobody gets hurt.
  
  
• The “pool drain walker” was doing his thing on Wednesday morning at the 24 hour fitness pool again. It was creepy.
  
  
• This weekend is a three-day-er so I hope I find time to ride my mountain bike. Hubby insists.
  
  
• I’ve decided I don’t like swim fartlek intervals. Yes I’m sure.
  
  
• I rode an “easy” 1:30 yesterday on my road bike. At a certain point I had to wait for a light to change before I could continue across a crazy busy road. A car pulled up behind me but waited so far back that her car wouldn’t trigger the light. I motioned for her to move forward (I was basically waiting in the crosswalk). The twit was so busy talking on her CELL PHONE that she either (a) didn’t see me motioning to her or (b) thought I was a looney waving at her. In any case, I decided to wait for her to figure out that the light wasn’t changing –then she would figure out to move her car forward ON HER OWN. I waited through 4 light changes while the twit talked and laughed on her fkn CELL PHONE and cars behind her were honking at her. Then when she finally did trigger the light she had the nerve to BUZZ me in her massive SUV, talking on the CELL PHONE, while I was in the bike lane!!! Again TWIT!!! GRRR!
  
  
• After she buzzed me, I flipped-off the lady (above). It made me feel better.
  

Seeds of Triathlon

When I was a kid, my parents would whisk the whole family off for summer vacations to their ancestral homeland—India. The culture shock of going from Northern California –McDonald’s, Datsun pickups, stoplights and lane lines to India—land of home-cooked meals, Fiats, and no discernable traffic laws boggled my mind.

Every two years my parents packed us up and we headed on the whirl-wind trip through Japan, Thailand and onto New Delhi. From New Delhi, we usually took a 13 hour drive by taxi to my grandparent’s house. We alternated between one set of grandparents and the other every couple of weeks. We went to the Bazaar by a bicycle-pulled rickshaw. The Rickshaw ‘driver’ (I don’t’ know why he was called a driver, as he was usually pulling 6 people—not driving) was often a skinny guy with tiny ankles straining to pull us up a hill toward the bazaar. We, as the landed gentry sat back and spoke haughtily about how much we spent on this-or-that, while gazing downward at all the proletariat walking or running to a job or home. But I was often intrigued and pittied the man who had to pull me, my brother, my mom, my dad, and usually at least one grandparent close to 5 miles. Somehow the idea that manual work was for—well, others—became ingrained in my psyche as a young girl. Physical labor was for those who couldn’t afford to NOT do physical labor.


As I got older, we went less and less. High school commitments kept my busy most summers. Then summer jobs thwarted my parent’s plans for “one more family vacation.” Finally, college beckoned and with it, the idea of traveling overseas, when I could be making money at home, seemed stupid.

Finally, my last trip to India was in the summer of 1993. Two of my grandparents had died. It was before my last year in college and I wanted to have some fun before I made the final push to get the elusive Bachelor of Science degree. Plus my boyfriend was going to Germany for the summer, so I’d probably be bored sitting around all summer.

But I had changed. The idea that doing something physical meant that you were ‘lower than’ no longer struck a cord with me. I tried to go for short runs in the oppressive heat only to have my Aunts and Uncles yell at me that I would surely die after a few steps (seriously—they thought I would keel over). I wanted to ride a bike to the bazaar for some shopping—but everyone said, “but people will think you are poor. Come, we can go in our new air conditioned Mercedes.” I asked about swimming opportunities in the canals nearby, but it was totally unheard of for a young lady to show anything other than her arms and face outside. So I languished. I had servants bring me breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea and snacks. They folded my laundry, drew me baths, and cooked my meals. And I sat. and I ate. And yet, I wanted to be outside DOING something.

I guess it was during that last trip in 1993 that the seeds of future triathlons were planted. Everyone telling me “NO” started a fire in me that burns to this day.

Why am I writing all this? My only remaining grandparent is my maternal grandmother. She is extremely old fashioned. She doesn’t’ think girls should ride bikes because it isn’t ladylike. In any case, she has heard through the family grapevine that I started running. “Running? Really? But Karen will get darker? What does ‘hubby’ say about this?”

When she heard I swam in the lake she was concerned about my attracting “undue” attention from men and how could I swim without being fully clothed and what did my husband think about me going around half naked in water?

But the funniest thing—the thing I can’t stop laughing about—is when she was told that her oldest granddaughter (me) rode 45 miles on her bike a few weeks ago. Her response, “Why the @&$# did she do that? Did her husband lose his job? Did they wreck their car?” It never occurred to her that I enjoyed riding my bike. That all those years of “NO” have created a personality that says “YES I CAN, DAMMIT!”

Yesterday, I rode 60 miles on my bike in 3:44. It was my longest ride ever.

I can’t wait to call my grandma this evening and tell her.