Monthly Archives: August 2013

My boyfriend is flying in from Germany today!! And his flight is delayed 2hrs already. Grrrrrrr.

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Soooooo . . . sub-14 hours didn’t happen.  But he finished in 15:42, about 11pm.  Congratulations Dillon!!!!!

The Kid hit the halfway point at 6:13 – apparently still looking fresh on what’s becoming a hot day. He did a very respectable 1:38 for the swim and considering he skipped out on every 4000 yd or meter workout because he was out too late and just started swimming in the last year, he was very happy. He was expecting 1:50 or later.

I swam a workout yesterday that I saw on another injured runner’s website here and I hit one of the printed goal times at the very beginning. The rest was way, way, way, way too fast so I went at my own pace. My swimming mp3 player died the other day after 2 years of faithful service so it was a lot of being in my own head. Long live the waterproof iPod Shuffle. I started swimming again after a hot weather Chicago Marathon DNF. Full body cramps, puking, just bad stuff. I scaled back for a while but in the last 18 months, I’ve been swimming at least once or twice a week. In the last 8 months, 3-6 times a week. So hell yeah, I better be getting my 2.4 mi time down. Fantasy goal is to one day break 60 min but I’ll be happy with consistently being under 1:10.

On a side note, just don’t ever DNF Chicago. They drop you off at a tent with huge letters on a huge sign that says “RUNNER DROPOUTS” and all you can do is cry. Just go straight to your hotel if you can get a taxi or train. Do whatever you can to never see that sign.

This weekend, I participated in my second Tour de Pork, my first ride outside since a triathlon in eTown.  After a hellish hill near mile 20, I got a flat tire.  I wasted a c02 cartridge because I thought I’d just run low on air.  But that wasn’t the case because it turned out I ran over broken glass.  So I removed the tire, took out the old tube, checked for more glass particles and proceeded to waste c02 cartridge #2 by prematurely piercing the seal.


I couldn’t connect the mini-pump I had to the valve.  WTF?  It came with the kit and proved to be completely useless.  I was on record time!  I hadn’t changed a tire in less than 20 minutes!  My friend Karen was watching me and I was showing her how to put the tube on without trapping it between the tire bead and the rim when putting it all together.  She was going to call our friend Steve to come and pick us up but I told her to hold on.  She gave me her only c02 cartridge and BOOOOOOOM!!!  An essssplosion so big, the force blew off my bracelet.  I’d, um, trapped the tube between the tire bead and the rim.

After laughing for about 5 minutes, Karen looks straight at me and deadpans “I’m calling Steve.”  Her delivery was hysterical and I just crack up again.

While we wait for him, we heard a rifle.  Then more shots.  Okay.  Yes.  Calling Steve was a good move.

I’m happy with my 20 miles.  I wish I made it to 26 but considering there was either high humidity or rain coming down the first hour, the 16-17ish mph we were averaging on the straightaways coupled with the practically 0.0mph on some hellish hills were good enough for me. Since I’ve been stationary cycling with almost 0 resistance, this is a win.

There were 8 of us who made it to the event but 5 finished.  Looking at the picture, seems there’s an unwritten minimum height to finish the Tour.  But I still endorse the fundraiser!

It's not that my companions are giants ...

It’s not that my companions are giants …

I’m in the pig jersey.  I’m still working on losing all the weight I gained since not being able to run but there’s not much I can do to combat derp face.  The back of the jersey says ‘I never met a hill I can’t walk up with my bike’ or something like that.  I need a new one since I managed to get grease all over it failing at changing my back tire.

It could have been way worse.  Poor friend of ours in pink, second from the left, she never made it to the course because of a freak accident when she was walking her bike from the parking lot.  Worried she was going too slowly, she moved to the side to get out of people’s way and accidentally stepped on her tire, twisting her leg and sending her slightly down a slanted grassy bank.  She thought she had a goose egg to the side of her knee.  It turned out to be a bad break requiring surgery.  What she described after her diagnosis sounded like a tibial plateau fracture.  What she thought was a goose egg was bone trying to protrude from her skin.  ACK!

We got together and bought her a bottle of Lost My Mind wine from Turtle Run Winery.  It’s a sweet, light wine and the name of it seemed just so appropriate.  At the time we bought the wine, she was at an immediate care center and was told it was a hematoma.  Then the staff came back and said it was a break and that she’d have to see an orthopedic surgeon which didn’t happen until Tuesday.  If I had to go back, I wish I could’ve taken her to an ER and maybe the whole process would’ve gone much, much faster.

It sucks she’ll be known as That Lady Who Didn’t Make It To The Start for this event.  But knowing her, she’ll probably have a t-shirt to wear in 2014 that says on the back “I’m that lady who fell in the parking lot  . . . and I’m passing you up!”

Nope. Didn’t wake up at 4am to swim at 5am. Didn’t make it at all this week. So I’m cycling instead and I have my netflix ready and a fan set up and my water. Long, slow ride ahead on my Specialized. I still haven’t named it yet. It’s blue and white and not a fancy tri bike, made for a very, very short person and a good bike for somebody who hates cycling.

Damn, I miss running.

About 6 days ago I realized the Tour de Pork, a 25 or 50 mile route bike ride, was on August 10 and not August 18.  And also I haven’t ridden the bike outside at all since October 2012.  Um.  Okay.

My first problem is I’m not exactly sure how my balance is taking the bike off the trainer.  I’m wobbly walking on a path nevertheless using clipless pedals.  Even before my injury there was a 100% chance I’d fall at some point off or with the bike trying to do something simple like stopping.  Or moving.  Or trying to get a drink of water.  Nope.  So I changed the pedals back to the kiddie traditional ones.  Easy enough.  I don’t intend to crack another helmet and have neck pain for a month. 

Second was plain old saddle time.  When I had surgery, I splurged on a selle italia nice little cutout seat that is way more comfortable than the one that came with the bike.  Considering I had to ride at least 20 minutes a day from the day after surgery, it was more like a necessity than a splurge.  I got in an hour today without any issues except wishing I still had my clipless pedals on. 

Next problem was getting my bike computer to register both the pace and the cadence on the trainer.  I figured it out.  I can’t have my laptop on the aerobars and the wireless bike computer working at the same time.  Ah ha!  And ughhhh.  I watched an entire season of Wilfred that way, it’s not fair!  And that’s enough yuppie problems from this girl. 

I’m aiming to swim 2 miles tomorrow at 5am.  That was my aim the last two days and I slept until 6am instead. 

One last note. And it’s a bad one.

A woman in my swim group who recently moved away lost both her father and stepmother to a horrible crime this past weekend.  It’s made it hard to sleep at night knowing all these details.  Apparently two teens robbed them at their home, stabbed her dad 23 times and left.  Then they came back a little later and bludgeoned her stepmother who is sick and uses a wheelchair.  The kids were arrested a few blocks from my office for an unrelated crime when one of the pair shot at his own twin brother. 

The worst of coincidences Stephanie’s family suffered the stabbing of her brother 20 years ago by his roommate in Texas.   

My friend Anna (who introduced me to the swimming group) and I are going to make a donation in their memory which will go towards the cost of the funerals.  I have a card but I have no idea what to say yet.  I purposely tried to stay away from the word ‘memories’ because every time I read it in a card, I flashed to the number 23.  I can’t stop thinking of that number.  I imagine they can’t, either.