Hanalei works its magic...

30 seconds later, the clothes were gone and those two were swimming in the Wailua River. I would post the pics, but I'll save those for some day when R is in trouble.

Kidlets contemplating the height of the jump vs. the depth of the ocean. They were told to sack up, and spent the next three days hurtling themselves off the pier. They have turned into little fish.

The world's fastest flower girl waiting for the ceremony to start in her yellow dress. Shangri-La at Moloaa is one of the most incredible places I have ever been. And Sheryl & Mike, the owners, were so kind and fun. The wedding was the most beautiful and happy one I've ever attended. And the monsters behaved!

It was three days of swimming, swimming and more swimming. One would never guess I was on swim hiatus. When I lived there, I ran Hanalei Beach each morning, from Black Pot down to Waipa Stream and back. I was not training for anything, I didn't race, ever. It was just running to run. On Friday I braved it, and ran the beach, shoeless, in the middle of the day.. and it didn't hurt. On Saturday we hiked, swam some more, and partied all night at the wedding. Sunday was a hike and a happy four mile run. Now if only I can hold on to that magic back here on Oahu... it is time to ease slowly into some Kona training! Perhaps I won't have to bring a scalpel when we head to the Bodies Exhibit on Thursday after all...

PS - Found in the Kauai Newspaper: The World's Easiest Sudoku:

Note the difficulty level. As in, it's really really difficult to find somewhere to write in your answers. And in case you couldn't solve it, they had the results a few inches down. Upside down, thankfully, so as not to spoil the puzzle.

Kauai bound.

Tomorrow morning we will be here. Hanalei Bay, Kauai. My favorite island! When I was little we moved from Clearwater to Kauai. When Henry was two and Wyatt was four months old, we packed up the Berkeley digs and moved back. I worked here as the field technician for the Hanalei Watershed Hui. I walked the beach each morning taking water samples, floated in the river counting native fish, and was blown away by it's beauty every single day. My morning run started and ended here, at the pier:

Sky was named after the waterfall on the highest mountain in Hanalei, on the left below. She is Sky Namolokama. We're hoping she can say her middle name by seventh grade.

I am under Coach pressure to swim again. What better place to start than Hanalei Bay? The water is gorgeous, the view is incredible, and there is only one resident tiger shark. I'm bringing my pull buoy, time to dive back in!

When Sky was a baby and I returned to work, we had the best baby sitter ever. Jenna would sometimes tell me that she hoped she would love her own kids as much as she loved mine. Those days are getting closer.. we're heading over for her wedding. Jenna & Jeff are adorable. So adorable that one of the first things one of my best friends said to me when I met her was "are you the one with the really hot nanny? You must be really secure." I'm pretty sure she meant stupid. Sky will be a flower girl and the goofballs are ring bearers. I foresee disaster, but at least it will be better dressed disaster than usual..

Mother of the Year

I hope when you grow up you have five kids and they're all as bad as you. -- my mom*

I only have three, but I'm working on the bad part.

I caught Sky packing today. Carrying around an old Coach clutch with a water gun inside. She carried it all day. I considered asking who she had it out for, but I'm afraid her answer would be you, bitch. I drew her a picture of dolphins and handed it to her. She studied it, then handed it back. Could you try again on the other side? At least she didn't reach for her purse.

There is talk of an intervention. Wyatt and his Wii. Wyatt's skin is getting pale and his eyes are turning red. Here is Wyatt in a rare outside moment. He used to be so full of life.. and then came Lego Indiana Jones. He appears to be looking over my shoulder. Probably for a TV or his Wii controller. 

I can't get Henry's name down. You would think in eight years I would have figured it out, but I can't stop calling him Tommy. Tommy is my youngest brother, the last of the five, and he turns 24 today. He was 15 when Henry was born and they were best friends his first two years of life when we lived in California. I yell Tommmmy! when trying to call Henry at least once a day. Tom is a grad student at UC Davis, where he is studying booze (vitaculture). I just realized I don't have a picture of him without Henry in it. Happy birthday Tom.

I am running and cycling again, but holding off on the swimming a bit longer. It's not perfect, but it's improving, and that's all I can ask for. The week of rest wasn't as hard as I expected it to be. My children kept me busy and laughing. But it left me itching to get moving again.

*I was the oldest, and only seven when the fifth baby was born. She had to say funny crap like this to survive. She was laughing when she said it.

Things that happened because I was not training:

I threw the car keys at the broken dryer, making it both broken and ugly.

I got these funny lines on the back of my thighs. Wiki-P calls it cell-u-lite.

I called and got a quote for cable installation.

I spent about 6 hours making up Splish suits with Eileen and Mel.

I got to work on time. Practically every day.

I ate less than 2000 calories - once. Not fun.

I started wearing my ipod in my car because I missed it. Don't tell the po-po.

I caught my daughter packing. She was sporting an old coach bag with a water gun inside.

I thought up a list of stuff I might need someday and asked Tristan at Timex to send it to me.

Ditto Zoot. Sorry for that, Benjamin.

I started pestering people who didn't update their blogs frequently enough. Wee is excused, you pay by the minute in Japan. But don't try to pull "writer's block" on me again, Marit.

I gave all three kids shitty haircuts, just in time to be flower girl & ring bearers this weekend.

I coveted some runner-guy's hideous form on Kal Hwy. It was ugly, but it was more than I have.

I loaned Clem to a visiting friend. I loaned my PT aeolus race wheel to another friend.

I told Ramsey to yell FIRE at the Bodies exhibit so I could cut off an IT band and make a break for it. 

I have new plans for fighting this injury. 

The Bodies exhibit finally made it's way out to Hawaii. I am brining a scalpel. Rams will yell FIRE & I will cut me a new IT band. I just have to find a former prisoner with a 34" inseam. I might steal a piriformis too. If you need any new parts, let me know, I'm not going until Wednesday.

I am open to suggestions, if anyone has anything better for me.

In Spite Of

Gabe Jennings got me thinking. This article in Runner's World implies that what makes his life interesting takes away from his success as an athlete. The guy is wild. But a few of the things he said made me laugh out loud. And others I found pertinent, even wise.

Each moment of my day either directly or indirectly contributes to my training.

There are days where I rush from training to work to an evening spent juggling so many activities that I hardly have a moment to think. There are days when I work until midnight and have to be up at 4 to get the run in before I am back on mom duty. Sometimes it's implied that I have distractions. Friends wonder how I train for Ironman in spite of my family and my work. Shouldn't it really be in addition to? Or because of? I adapt. Sometimes the schedule changes mid-day when someone gets sent home from school sick. A ride goes from road to trainer, or a run is moved to another day. There will always be a surprise or two in an Ironman. Adapting on race day is the difference between a great day and a sucky one. I practice adapting.

Sometimes I have to be on my feet when I should be off of them. I play Uno while icing my legs. I am not distracted. I am busy, but it is balancing. The time spent watching my kids learn and enjoy sports reminds me to just have fun out there. The fullness of my life provides a bigger picture. A great outcome at a race is nice, but my kids won't love me any less if I come in last. My family, my job, my friends, and all of the juggling remind me how fortunate I am to be able to train and compete, in addition to everything else in my life. Because of the frantic pace of some days I appreciate the easy pace of a long ocean swim. Because of the noise when there are 6 kids in my living room (most days of the week lately) I love the quiet of my hard ride. 

I don't think it's safe to say this is the life of the age grouper. It can't be that easily divided. There are pros with young children and full-time jobs who make my life look like a holiday. There are age groupers with trust funds and no obligations. (Did that sound bitter?)  But the majority of us are juggling. I am an amateur with a job and three small kids. My husband works 60 hours a week in attempt to make ends meet. I live the life of the juggling athlete. But everything I do contributes.

Jennings is running the 1500 at the Olympic Trials. Many of us are training for late summer and fall Ironman races. All of us will work our asses of with the end goal of a performance we're proud of. And all of us jugglers will be alright if a race goes sour, even Jennings, because we've got all of our distractions.

I refuse to buy the notion that my various interests detract from my running. -Gabe Jennings

Next time I whine, send me here.

This is what happens when I take a weekend off. I wake up grumpy and note that I am fatter today than I was yesterday. My husband and our friend Scott head out for a long run.. how nice for them. I break the dryer somehow, and do lots of dishes. I step on a gecko - barefoot. And then, instead of longing for Waimea Bay as I ride by, we pack up the wagon and head for the country. It is this kind of day:

The dolphins are close when we arrive. I break the vow not to swim, because how can I not? Sky climbs on my back and off we go to the middle of the bay. We're in forty feet of clear water and the dolphin chatter is incredibly loud.. and then they're all around us. Sky lets go completely and swims a few feet away. And we just hover below the surface. I thought she would be scared and cling, but my little four year-old in her string bikini just floats with me, all pink goggles, yellow hair and giant grins. She pops up for a breath, yells that she sees dolphins! and is under again, spinning around watching. Ramsey swims out and for five or ten minutes 30 dolphins whirl around us, jumping up and spinning so close they splash us when they land. We stay out until our fingernails turn blue and Sky's tongue gets all wrinkly. Then we hold hands and swim supergirl - airplane back in (it seems breast stroke has a new name at swim lessons). I need an underwater camera, the image of her suspended a few feet below the surface with dolphins all around her will be one of my favorites (in my head) forever.

Lest you think I play favorites, I can assure you I begged those boys to come out with me. But they have discovered sharks, and refused. I should probably stop taping their eyelids open and making them watch Jaws when they're bad (I kid.) Wyatt had the quote of the day when he called Sky buttercup in attempt to insult her. Ramsey told him a buttercup was a pretty yellow flower. Oh, he says.. Well then, I meant like a cup of butter. 

We follow Waimea with a BBQ at our friend Todd's where the boys play checkers while we eat malasadas and Sky squirrels away mangoes in the front yard. Eileen updates me constantly on Bree's progress in Japan - speaking of dolphins, a 52 minute swim!? Bree went 9:37 and placed second in her second Ironman today.. she is so talented. 

Extreme Rest.

I got in the ocean the other morning with a borrowed pull buoy to spend an hour trying to keep up with Stefan and Wil. These fish swim 50 minute 2.4 milers to start off an Ironman day. Can you say long shot? Especially with no legs. After a long warm up, we line up at the outrigger swim buoy and Stefan says we're doing four intervals to the windsock and back, an estimated 350-400m, on 45s rest. I jump on Stefan's feet and hold on for dear life. We fly out to the wind sock with the falling tide and I'm alternating thoughts with each breath "I can keep up! I'm going to die!" We turn back into the current and I come to a dead stop. My legs are itching to kick. Stefan and Wil are gliding away. But oh no, not me. I am hovering over a purple coral head on nature's freaking treadmill. A wave breaks on me and I finally get moving, legless, and come in 15 seconds behind. Four intervals become five, and each time I start with the fishboys and get dropped on the way in, fighting the temptation to kick into the current. We get out and my lats are cursing me. Cramping, yelling, and refusing to lift my arms over my head to let me stretch. All signs of a great swim.

I wake up the next day and can't walk. I hobble the mile from my car across chinatown to my office, wincing. My hips and glutes ache just standing still and I can't bend my right knee. I haven't attempted a bike or run in a week. All there was to set me back this far was that swim. With a pull buoy and zero flip turns. 

While it may seem that I'm just getting lazier.. I decided to take it another step. To nothing. Complete, utter rest. I left my coach a voicemail, thanking my notsolucky stars that he didn't answer, letting him know that I would be doing abso-smurf-ly nothing for a while, don't call me, I'll call you, buh-bye. I did this rest thing once before, for about six days, after Sky was born. When I ran that sixth day my mom hollered out the window at me that my uterus was going to fall out. Which turned some heads - a hard thing to do in Berkeley. This time I'm not at all worried about my uterus, and I'm shooting for seven days. My thighs might turn to jello, but I have lululemon superpants that can hide that. My brain, however, I'm not sure how to handle. In two days off I've done more stupid crap than I have since my last bout of pregnant-brain, including, but not limited to:

Running out of gas. In my driveway.

Calling to have car towed to the shop because it starts, then it just dies.

Asking what's up with all the patriotic July 4-esque decorations at the mall.

Telling a man at a party "I think I went to high school with you." Umm, no, dumbass, he's just famous.

Forgetting to shower, because well, the shower comes after the workout.

Telling my husband that Vince Vaughn is hot. A couple of times. OK, a few.

My sister has been helping amuse me, by squishing herself into my daughter's clothes and setting up dramatic scenes with the kids' toys for me to find around the house. It's going to be a long week. 

Playing Magnum

My challenge is no longer pushing the pace, holding the watts, or making the send off. My challenge is figuring out what is keeping me from healing at a normal pace, so that I can fix it. I am not a scientist, but I play one at work. I'm going to take a scientific approach. I have a new hypothesis for each week and will test it throughout that week.

This week's hypothesis? The swim is to blame. I swear this is not a crackhead attempt to weasel my way out of the pool. With the help of some friends, I have been trying to work out exactly what changed when the IT band pain started. I have been so focused on the bike/run and working out those variables, that I hadn't considered the swim. Late last year I tripled my yardage. To get through it, I added kicking sets with fins. I had never, ever kicked. Not even in races. I am much too uncoordinated to move my arms and legs at the same time. It was that same month that my knee started to hurt for the first time. Perhaps this lovely pool is to blame. Or at least my bad form in this lovely pool.

The PT exercises that leave my knees burning for 24 hours hurt in the exact same place in my hips/glutes that kicking 100m leaves burning and cramping. I ran into my friend Mark, who runs like a gazelle, and he told me that if he swims more than 10k/week his hips get so messed up that he can no longer run, and the pain runs down the outside of his legs. Sounds familiar. In an effort to baby the right leg, I have kicked with my left leg for the past two months and let the gimpy one float. My left leg now hurts as much as my right. The evidence is stacking up against kicking.

I know people don't injure their legs swimming. But this week there will be a pull buoy sewn to my inner thighs. I will be hitting the stretch cords a little more and pushing off the wall a little less. Fortunately I have my trusty assistant home on summer vacation, in her Magnum glasses, to help me figure this out.

stupid shit I did this week

1. I ran out of gas. In my driveway.

2. I told Ramsey my car broke down and we needed to have it towed to the shop. See #1.

3. Ate a slice of pizza. I am allergic to all things cow. Paid the price for hours and hours.

4. 

Confidence from a leopard print carseat

From the backseat of the wagon yesterday comes a little voice:

Sky: I am the fastest runner in the whole world.

Ramsey: Really? Do you want to race your mom?

Sky: OK. I will race you........ of course, I know I will win.

Me: You do, do you?

Sky: Yes. Because I am the fastest runner in the whole entire world.

I love the confidence of my four year old. Can you imagine lining up at a race and declaring to the athletes around you "Of course, I know I will win, because I am the fastest in the whole entire world?" There are some men I know that might say it, but not many women would talk that big.

In the NBC broadcast of Kona 2007 Leanda Cave said "I will win this race someday." I believe her, and I also admire that she said it for all the world to hear.

I read somewhere that women are likely to downplay their abilities and men likely to downplay doubt. Other female athletes have talked about the fear that many of us have of sounding cocky and how it keeps us from stating our goals. Coach Paul has told me many times take credit for an achievement, to own it. When I make excuses in response to a compliment he says, "Rachel, say thank you." After Katherine dominated the amateur race at Hawaii 70.3 a few weeks ago, I heard him stop her as she responded to a congratulations with a list of things downplaying her performance: "Katherine, say thank you."

Lately my confidence has wavered. The first time I did Ironman, Kona 2006, I wasn't confident that I could finish. I had done my first half just four months prior and found it incredibly difficult. The second one, Kona 2007, I lined up confident that I would finish, but unsure that I could do as well as or better than the first one. While I don't always have confidence that I will perform (I truly believe there is a little luck involved in racing well) I always believed in my health and my body's abilities. This year has tested my faith in my body. I haven't missed races for an injury before, but this season I have missed every single local race. It has been six months of intermittent injury, with more time hurt than not. I raced another Ironman, and went slower than before. I didn't book a room at Kona, or a car, and I began to wonder if I would even make it to the starting line this October.

Sky's statement was the kick in the pants I needed to change my outlook. I have four months. I will continue to search for the cause of my injury so that I can fix it permanently. I will listen to my gut instead of my Coach or Therapist when I know my body is not yet ready. I will be healthy in time to train for Kona. I will race healthy. And I will do it faster than last year.

dad's day

Dad's Day started when Sky peed the bed and we were up at 5 to change the sheets. Four hours later she's still denying it, apparently one of her brothers came in and peed on her in her bed and has such incredible aim he managed to hit her underpants. I know better about the aim, I clean this house.

Dad's Day means that today I'm beach patrol while he surfs instead of him being beach patrol while I swim, or family patrol while I head out for the circle island ass-whupping. 

In thanks for all he does for this family, he gets things like the drawing that came home from Sky's preschool with her narrated label: This is my dad. He is wearing a dress. And he gets blamed for all of the foul smells, often initiated by the dramatic Henry, who yells, Daaaad, I can't breathe and I'm going to die.

Here he is in his element - I'm still trying to figure out a way to get him to do the first leg of all the tris for me..

Happy Father's Day, our kids are very lucky! And Happy Father's Day to my dad, who raised (and really is still raising) five of us monsters! Happy Father's Day to all, take good care of your dads today..

Hey that's my bike.

Neglected Clem.

I'm trying something different this week: the stolen bike. I have never had a road bike. Jaco's old road bike is now Ramsey's road bike. While he was at work today I changed out the saddle, put my powertap on, and now it is mine-all-mine. I didn't pee on it to truly claim it.. yet. I thought about stealing his cleats because they're nice and new looking, but that was taking it too far. There is only so much a tri-spouse can take. 

I am a one-bike kind of girl. I rode a road bike once, in the Dick Evans road race around Oahu. It did not end well. While I know that I got up after the crash in Kaneohe (85 mi in) and rode all the way to Waimanalo, I don't remember Dump Road. The rear derailleurerereuur clunked off as I started up Olomana, just a little off the back of the lead pack, and it was over.. I took off my helmet, wondered how I'd gotten to Waimanalo, and watched the helmet fall apart into pieces. So far it's road bike 1, me 0. I'm taking my return to training slow, just to be on the safe side, even though I'm feeling optimistic that the worst is behind me now. A few easy rides while I focus on getting my run back will be spent playing on the road bike.

I went out for a 90 min spin this evening around Makapuu. The bike was funky. Apparently it's an automatic. If I get into too easy a gear while in my big ring, it just goes to my little ring for me. (Coach, are you in there?? I swear I didn't hit zone 2) I tried to fall into my aero bars three separate times. This view will take some getting used to. No comments on the watts please, I can't pedal and take a picture.

Just 30 minutes from my house in the burbs is a bit of country. I love this road. It was overcast this evening, but the road was empty, just me, the chickens and one suicidal peacock that almost took out the stolen bike.

No wonder all those roadies ride them, the stolen bike is fun. When I stand up on a hill it just vrooms right on up.  My legs are out in front of me instead of underneath me.. it's all very different. Can't wait to take it on this Sunday's killer ride! Don't tell Clementine.

The send-off.

I have read Daniel's Running Formula. I get track workouts, tempo, cruise intervals, and the stuff that makes you run faster. I didn't do them for my first marathon, and did for my second a few months later, and ran 8 min faster. You run hard, rest, get your breath back, and then do it again. I keep the rest interval shorter than the work interval, if doing 800s, I give myself a 2' rest. Mile repeats get 3' rest. I recover before I work again.

And then there's the pool. Go swim until you think you're going to pass out from lack of air and your arms are going to fall off, then rest 8 or 11 seconds and go again. That is not rest. There is no recovering in 8 seconds. That's a pause just long enough to fill me with dread. To calculate how many more times I have to do it. To wonder if anyone would notice if I ducked in with the old people at water aerobics and waved styrofoam barbells around to Yakkity Yak.

The Village People

I can't help but notice lately that it really does take a village. Not to raise my kids (though a small team might help) as that woman meant when she said that, but as my injury has threatened to ruin the season, I realize that I do have a little village. The support has come up out of the woodwork.

When I run out of physical therapy prescription, Dr. V, aka Jaco Van Delden, has been known to call my ortho for me so that I can keep coming in. He calls me when he has a cancellation, finds new ways to treat the source of the problem, and makes fun of me when I can't hold the lunge for three minutes and fall over. And then laughs with me as we play leap frog on the Honu course and doesn't even yell at me for flying by in the no pass zone because I just had to beat him in...

Tanya Castro has been in the Boca family for longer than I have, and for most of that time I had no idea what she did for a living - until I needed to try ART. And now I have a chiropractor, too. I am in once or twice a week for ART, and then she adjusts everything I wreck on the bike back to where it should be, and adds some exercises to compliment Jaco's. Sometimes she uses metal knives on the band, but she's nice enough to get away with it.

Poor Coach Paul's job lately is saving me from my impatient self. He says no a lot, to races mostly, and adjusts the weekly sched every time something hurts. When I do a run he doesn't approve of, he goes back and deletes it from my week, just to remind me that it was not OK. And just recently he called me a crack-addict after receiving my list of reasons why I should do the local sprint tri. Raul, my local Boca coach, has to listen to me mope. The couch under the Zoot shoes in his shop is my therapist's office, where I cry and he tells me funny stories and cheers me up. If I keep it up I'm going to have to start donating Kleenex boxes for the end table.

Dawn makes me suits. When Bree first said her cute Splish suits motivate her to swim more, I thought she was a nutcase.. and then my suits starting coming. When the M&M suit arrived on my doorstep at 4pm, I swam my first double day just to go try it out. I wear wonder woman just to make people laugh at the hard evening masters workouts, and the white flames on days when Katherine and I are swimming together just to be dorky twins. Splish makes the swimming more fun.

Stefan's Tuesday morning ocean swim group breaks up the monotony of 5-6 swims/week. He runs a workout at 6:45 am at Kaimana beach that is open to all, just because. No one's paying him to train us, but we go and learn a lot and get fitter anyway. It's a great mix of technique and sprints and open water practice, and the hour plus workout flies by so much faster than a pool day. This is one of my favorite photos from Kona last year, coming down Palani and starting to believe sub-10 is truly in the bag, while Stefan hollers support:

And then there's my friends. I love the tri community, for the constant checking in and offering up of solutions that have worked for them, and to just say hi when I haven't been at the group ride in a while. I love my training friends, Katherine, Ingrid, Maggs.. for wanting me to be back and healthy just as much as I want to be. I love my mom-girlfriends, who don't know what an IT band is but forgive me for playing bitchy fashion-police at Starbucks because they realize that I'm about as sane as I was at 42 weeks pregnant when I can't run. I love the blog friends, because I feel like there is a group of women who could otherwise be very competitive with one another but through the web we've all become friends & support instead. And they tell me to shut the hell up when I whine. And point out that I was DFL at Worlds - oops. I guess you're supposed to tell them you're not coming?

So to the Village People - THANK YOU! I am so lucky to have such good friends. Also, I'm glad you don't dress up in chaps and sexy police officer outfits.

If you've gotten this far you deserve a treat. I have finally worked my way through the piles of school work that come home on the last day. I ran across this in Wyatt's spelling workbook. Please note that this is not the same child who spelled his last name wrong on his spelling test that I posted a while back.. apparently I'm raising a herd of shitty spellers. I asked him to read number 5 aloud - 

and he said "Can I have a large drink?" in that special DUH tone he reserves for when I'm being really freaking dumb. I kind of like the way it goes with number backwards-seven. The note from his teacher at the top said "Great job Wyatt, let's start adding more details!" Yikes. I don't think I want any more details.

Doing my part for the economy.

Out with the old

and in with the new.

While some of those look like repeats, really they're just replacements of the same make/model. I have become obsessive about my shoes since the injury. I had never thought about shoes much. The DS trainers from three years ago, on the top left of the old picture, probably have 1500 miles on them and were still in the weekly rotation. I know, much too old to be good for me, but I was attached. If you look closely you might see the duct tape holding a post-home-surgery pair together. I used to run in nothing but lightweight flats. Then in Dec/Jan I tried some shoes with a whole bunch of features, motion control, cushion or stability or something - mostly they were just big and heavy.. and my running days were over. What can I say, they were cheap! Lesson learned.. I found a secret stash of the old silver saucony fastwitch at the Running Room and almost kissed the salesgirl. I have run many a long run/marathon in those light little things without problem (or socks - Mel, you might want to try them!) and I love them. So the new and improved rotation goes: fastwitch tangent otherfastwitch zoot, repeat. And I have a big old bag for the Niketown shoe recycling project.

And the same theory that I'm applying to my shoes is also being applied to my attitude. Grumpy time is over. I ran well today, without pain. I am a simple girl - good run = good  mood. Plus Bree gave me a serious talking to, so I'm never whining around her again! And ELF suggested some great new sports.. if this whole IT band thing doesn't work out my new goal might just have to be putt-putt world champion. Or Queen, whatever they call it in putt-putt.

Also, I realize that my deck needs painting. Tell Mr. Likeamother. But he can't do it tonight, I've recruited him for my trainer workout because I need company to make it through! Ten four-minute threshold intervals are not something I can space out and watch old Arrested Developments through, I'm going to have to pay attention. Keeping my head in my ride has been a challenge for me in long races (ooh look, a cactus!) so tonight will be good practice.. no slacking off when the power tap is recording away keeping me honest.

Patience is the fourth discipline.

And I have run out.  In an unfortunate development, the killer ride left both IT bands totally shot. Apparently my left leg has decided to join the fun. Nothing like a little regression to remind me that I am not the athlete I used to be. I've been fit and re-fit to Clementine the Bicycle, and I'm comfortable on it. But any bit of climbing and I'm back to ground zero. I am not a swimmer or a cyclist. I just need to run. Patience sucks. If this keeps up I'm going to get a big mac, some pork rinds and the Costco bag of peanut m&ms and retire to my couch forever. I might even get cable. I could start a blog pool on how long it takes me to hit 300 pounds.

In less whiney news, and considering that when my extreme frustration passes you couldn't pay me enough to really eat a pork rind, tomorrow night an Ironman pro named Brendan Brazier will be talking about the Thrive Diet, a completely plant-based way of eating, in Waikiki. I know nothing about Brendan or the diet, but I'm curious to hear how someone fuels endurance training as a vegetarian. In addition to my penchant for chocolate and peanut butter, I tend to turn to highly processed foods when really hungry. I don't intend to give up all meat, but there is certainly much room for my diet to improve, so I'm all for hearing how this guy does it. Thank you, John Mayers for sending the flyer my way.

Here's the event flyer. Note the free refreshments star. What are the odds they're serving m&ms? Chocolate started on a plant..