Setting the bar low

So tomorrow’s my first race in, oh, about three years. I have squelched all expectations. Here are my excuses:

1. My running has been minimal.

2. My bike training has lacked hills.

3. Two nights this week I’ve had cocktails with friends and woken up a mild hungover, one of which is this today.

4. My nutrition has been crap and included way too many gem doughnuts.

5. This is the shortest possible distance I can do and still consider it a race.

6. I’m not familiar with the race course and clearly don’t care enough to go drive it ahead of time.

7. Racing a sprint hurts.

8. I don’t like pain.

9. I’m old.

10. For sprints I like to wear a one-piece swimsuit with a chamois. But they must not make them anymore, because I can’t find one anywhere. Damn it. So I will be chamois-less. Post race should be interesting.

So why am I even racing? I’m not sure. Maybe just to see if I still enjoy it after a three-year layoff. Should know the answer by 9:30 a.m. tomorrow.

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The Softride Has Left The Building

Today I bid adieu to my first triathlon bike – a Softride Rocket TT named Sally. (“Ride, Sally, Ride...”) While technically still mine until the ebay auction ends tomorrow, she has been dropped off at the bike store for clean up and packing. We’ll ship her off to the new owner this weekend and that will be the end of my beam bike era.

A Softride is considered old school in the triathlon world and is mocked mercilessly by roadies. Sally has a carbon beam, no down tube and 650 wheels – basically the low-rider Cadillac of bikes. While it doesn’t have a stiff suspension or a brag-worthy weight, it has one thing – comfort. This is something I desperately needed when training for my first Ironman.

Sally raced at Kona in 2001 and Wisconsin in 2003. She was dependable and attention-getting. Like riding a motorcycle, Softride enthusiasts also offered the casual hand wave when you encountered another one on the road. However, there are fewer out there these days. The Softride company went out…

'Lil Smokies and Costco Cake

Yeah, you read that right. When I fall off the wagon, I fall hard and on the way down I eat nitrate-filled meats and over-frosted cake. Damn you, co-worker, for getting pregnant and having a baby shower will all sorts of delicious, processed food.

If there is any good to be taken from this situation, my system was "detoxified" enough after nine days of clean eating for my binge-o-rama to have quite an effect. The afternoon was spent slumped over, moaning and hoping no one came into my office. Of course, I can't precisely pinpoint which food caused this because there were so many. (Did I not mention the punch, sour cream dip or cream cheese mints? Oops.)

The sad thing was, I didn't even care. Here's why. On Monday morning, after seven days of eating like a freaking rabbit, I stepped on the scale. This was going to be fantastic. Every night I'd gone to bed with my stomach feeling like it was eating itself, but the pay-off was going to be worth it. As the number…

Hello Mountains

Boyfriend and I are four days into our Colorado trek and just like last year are wondering why the hell we live in Kansas City. My exact words were, "If you get any job offer in Colorado, take it." I'd make a fine barista.
After the lovely Tour De Kansas, we stopped in Denver for the night. Then next day we headed to Leadville to watch the Leadville 100 Trail Bike Race. Leadville is not much of a tourist attraction, which is fine. It's an old mining town turned endurance mecca. Fortunately, Boyfriend's aunt is a resident and kindly loaned us her apartment for the weekend. Doubly fortunately her apartment is literally right at the start of the race.
We spent Saturday ogling fine mountain bikes. I'm never sure what I'm looking at, so we have a code: "green" means a bike he'd love to have, "yellow" is a maybe and "red" means his current steed is nicer. I like to simplify things.
My favorite part of the race was watching Rebecc…

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