Just Don't
Tuesday, October 30, 2007

So, the other weekend, at a fantastic spa that for now shall remain nameless so as to protect the identities of all involved in this little story, Chief of Stuff and I were soaking ourselves peacefully in the hot tub.

On the other side of the tub, two women were engrossed in a somewhat loud (for the setting) convo. Or, I should say, one was engrossed and the other seemed to be feigning engrossment. In any case, I was trying to tune them out and just relax. But then, after getting up and dunking herself in the adjacent cold tub, The Talker started going on and on about how that was just like the ice baths she had to take after her long rides. And on and on about how hard long rides were and how tough she was for getting through them. Very important-like.

Uninterested and slightly annoyed, I hit the cold tub. When I came back, Chief of Stuff had engaged The Talker in a conversation that went something like this:

CoS: "Are you a cyclist?"

Talker: "No, a triathlete. I do Ironmans." (Note the "s" here. That's important later on.)

CoS: "Oh, wow. What ones have you done?"

Talker: "I did Wisconsin this year."

CoS: "What others have you done? How does Wisconsin compare?"

Talker fumbles a bit.

Talker: "Well, Wisconsin was my first one. But I've done lots of halfs and other tris."

CoS: "Oh. She just did her first one this year, too," pointing at me.

The Talker looks at me in my bikini and sizes me up -- toes to head and back to toes -- and the look in her eye says something along the lines of, "It sure doesn't show."

But she doesn't say this. What she actually says is, "Oh, how was it?"

I tell her that it was fantastic. I had a blast. I expected it to be harder than it was -- not that it wasn't hard -- but that it was one of the best days of my life.

And this is what she came back at me with:

"So, what was your time?"

Oh no she di-in't.

But I wasn't hearing things. Because, when I looked, she was still staring at me, expecting a response. She had actually asked me what my time was -- and in an overly-competitive tone. I wanted to tell her that time wasn't what it was about for me, and that at the very least it was none of her business. But she hadn't asked me how much I weighed or how much money I made ... just my time, and a "it's none of your damn business" response seemed slightly drastic, if not appropriate.

"14:41," I told her, annoyed, and much over the entire convo...like, yesterday. So I purposely didn't ask her what her time was, in an effort to end the exchange as soon as humanly possible.

She told me anyway.

"I did it in 12:01," she said, smugly.

Good for you! I wanted to say. Instead I commented that that was really fast, and she must've been happy.

"Yeah, it was okay. But I could do it faster. I've got a few things I'm going to change for next year. I'm going to try to qualify for Kona."

Are you kidding me?! If she had been in the tub, and not standing above me -- both literally and figuratively -- I might have tried to hold her underwater until she wised up a bit. I mean...you. just. don't.

Eventually, she finally stopped talking (maybe because I had stopped talking to her) and left ...And left me steaming. After all, she violated the underlying premise of what Ironman is all about for us newbies and non-pros. It's not about your time, or beating the person in front of you, or beating random people you meet at a spa who did the same race. Rather, it's about YOU -- doing something you never before dreamt of doing. Overcoming obstacles to reach a goal. Digging deep and getting to know yourself in ways you could never have imagined.

And as I saw on that day, it's about something so much bigger than you. All of these people who took so many different roads to get to that one starting line on that one day, sharing the experience of pushing themselves to the limit...together. The will and desire to take on such a challenge. The camaraderie and goodwill from spectators and other athletes throughout the day. Those things are Ironman. The time on the finish clock? Beating other people by two minutes...or two hours? Those things don't really matter when all is said and done. There will always be someone in better shape. There will always be someone faster. The important thing is that you stepped up to the line at all.

I had to hit the cold tub again just to cool off. Apparently, I'm still cooling...

Posted by Erin 12:09 PM 12 comments

Forget Milk...Go For a Run!
Monday, October 29, 2007

Last week, a new study comparing a group of male runners with cyclists found the latter group had a higher risk of developing osteopenia, a bone condition that can double the risk of fracture.

The study, by Pam Hinton, associate professor of nutritional sciences at the University of Missouri-Columbia, looked at the bone mineral density of 27 cyclists and 16 runners ages 20 to 59. The results showed that 63 percent of cyclists had lower-than-normal bone density of the spine or hip, compared with 19 percent of the runners.

Scary stuff -- especially for women, whose risk of osteoporosis is far greater than that of men's.

What to do, then? Stop cycling? (Lord, wouldn't that make my year!...I still can't seem to get near my bike again after IM). Hinton says that's hardly the case, though. Instead, she suggests some workout variety for cyclists (and, one might conclude, swimmers, too?) -- jumping rope, basketball, plyometrics, or running.

Good news for us triathletes -- and runners -- out there.

Posted by Erin 8:11 AM 1 comments

A Very Small Problem
Thursday, October 25, 2007

This morning, for the first time in as long as I can remember, there was a hint of winter in the air. Gone, for good -- or, at least until next spring -- are the saturated walks to work in 80 degree temps and 90 percent humidity that have come to define Madison for me.

Out came the turtleneck, the jacket, and...the crocks.

My favorite thing about each and every spring is when the snowbanks start leaking into the streets in streams, when the air carries on it just the slightest hint of warmth, and when I can free my toes and feet from the constraints of socks and shoes. My least favorite thing about fall is putting away my sandals.

I love having bare feet -- I even bike without socks. And I love sandals.

Aside from the freedom they afford my feet, the next best thing about sandals is their versatility. They're comfortable. You can dress them up or down. And they're comfortable. Did I mention comfortable?

And now that they're packed away for yet another season, yet another winter, I've run into a problem.

Now, in the grand scheme of problems, I'll admit this is a really, really small one, but just hear me out.

I have discovered I have no comfortable, casual shoes to wear.

*gasp* I know.

Seriously, though. I have a gazillion pairs of runners (which, I should just state up-front, that I have an aversion to wearing with anything other than workout clothes), some runner-like-but-not-runners, and one well-worn pair of tan suede Steve Madden mules. And for when it gets appropriately cold out, I have Uggs (unlike the college girls parading up and down State Street these days, I refuse to wear my Uggs with a skirt and tank top. It's. Just.Wrong.)

But I also have really short legs. All of my jeans are hemmed to work with boots or heels. Which means they don't work with today's fashionable, comfortable flats.

This used to not be a problem. Back in the day when chunky, loafer-type kicks were in style, I could switch easily between heels, boots, or chunky shoes. Today? Not so much. It's a choice between maiming my feet from walking too many steps in heels or accepting the fact that each and every pair of jeans I own are going to succumb to terminal fraying.

This makes me sad. Very sad. But I'm not giving up hope. There are lots of unsolvable problems in the world. I'm guessing that this isn't one of them. So if anyone out there knows of a solution to this little dilemma -- comfy, yet not sloppy-looking, shoes with enough of a lift so that the hem of my jeans don't drag behind me like a toddlers -- let me know. I'll be forever indebted.

Until next winter at least.

Posted by Erin 9:33 AM 8 comments

The Only Thing Sure to Make Me Cry Other Than My Bike
Friday, October 19, 2007

Two words: Meerkat Manor.

Oh man! Who knew Meerkats led such traumatic, tortured, hard-fought lives. And that one could care about Meerkats to the point of tears.

Yes, seriously.

I have only the most basic of cable packages at home. Other than the standard channels, C-Span and (on the weekends, god bless it) Book-TV, is about as exciting of TV-watching that I get. But today I'm in Chicago and all-but-chained to a desk in my hotel room. To prevent stir-craziness, I decided to get a little background noise going, and turned to one of my all-time favorite channels: Animal Planet (a subsidiary of one of my other favorite channels, Discovery. Can anyone say, "Shark Week"? "The Deadliest Catch"? Love them. Love them all.)

And that is where I discovered Flower and Mitch and Rocket Dog and the mean, mean Commandos gang.

And today, when Mozart became separated from her family because of the non-drought conditions in the Kalahari that made grasslands grow where and when they shouldn't, I found big crocodile tears welling up where and when they shouldn't.

Don't judge. You watch the clip of Mozart looking forlornly out across her little expanse of the Kalahari, head turning back and forth, back and forth, hoping to see just one member of her family. And you listen to the voice over say, "Mozart faced the most dire of all choices: leave her newborn pups to reunite with her family, or stay to guard them and face a slow and sure starvation." And you tell me if you don't get just a little choked up.

Sigh.

Posted by Erin 1:17 PM 6 comments

Spoken For
Monday, October 15, 2007

How do you make a girl's day/weekend/week/month/year -- and so on?

First you send her flowers at work, with a card that reads, "Wanted to take you somewhere after Ironman. Clear your weekend. We have plans."

You take her to one of her favorite places in the world -- a private spa nestled in a grove of towering pine trees just outside -- of all places -- the Dells.

Then you tell her that she's the love of your life, you couldn't imagine it without her in it, and you give her this:

Amazing, I tell you. Simply amazing. The ring, the weekend, the experience...but especially, the guy.

Posted by Erin 5:51 AM 14 comments

Where I've Been
Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Post-Ironman, I've been reading others' blogs in amazement. People signing up for next year -- IM-Moo and IM-Louisville -- for random mountain bike races, for marathons and half-marys. For pretty much anything that will take their entry money.

Me? There was a 10k I could've done this past weekend. Instead, I went to brunch. I cleaned my plate. Then I walked to Starbucks. Then I took a nap and cleaned my condo before heading out to ride my horse.

I've run exactly four times since IM. Actually, let's make that 3.5, as there was a lot of run-walking involved in one of those attempts. I've gone to the gym or to masters a total of zero times. And my bike is right where I left it the night of the 9th -- in my spare bedroom -- still outfitted with IM stickers and my aerobottle.

Other people are planning their race seasons for next year already. Some have even signed up -- as in sent in money...committed themselves -- for their B, C, and D races. This stresses me out in much the same way as if someone would suggest to me that I wake up at 5:30 a.m. to do a double-brick this Saturday, or give up chocolate and lates.

But why? It's not that I have no energy...or the desire, to do any of this.

I just. Need. A break.

And I knew I needed to take one when I went to spectate and cheer on Chief of Stuff (Whom, I might add, given how much he's trained, just killed that course) in the Green Bay Duathlon a week ago Sunday. I expected to get there in the morning and curse myself for not bringing my bike, taken in by the energy and competition. Hell, I considered bringing my bike just in case I couldn't resist the urge to compete. I needn't have worried. With hands wrapped around my Fourbucks late for warmth, watching wave after wave take off on the run, I had only one thought: "Thank god."

So, for now, I'm hibernating from the world of Ironman and triathlon and all things exercise-related. I'm drinking wine at Cafe Montmartre half-priced night. I'm spending time with the pooches and my pony, nearly every night. I'm making dinner and reading and catching up with friends whom I didn't see save for in passing nearly all last year. I'm doing some writing here and there. I'm watching trashy TV like Dancing with the Stars and Brothers and Sisters and Greys. And I'm trying not to feel guilty about not thinking or worrying about next season. Because, I'm afraid if I do, I'll be burnt out so badly by April that I might not even start it at all.

All of you in the throes of planning already, you have my admiration. I don't know how you do it, but more power to you. I'm just not cut from that cloth. Part of me worries that I should be. And then part of me thinks that I should stop worrying about such asinine things.

Ahhhh. The fun it is to be me.

But, in case anyone is still out there, I'm still here...and planning on continuing to post. Just on a brief sabbatical is all.

Posted by Erin 10:37 AM 5 comments