In honor of the World Series

The grounds crew at Yankees Stadium (or at least at the old Yankees Stadium, may it rest in peace) performs the YMCA at every home game. It's one of the best shows in baseball.

Speedwork

I love speedwork.

There, I said it out loud. The odd and uncomfortable notion of walking at a regular pace interspersed with walking at my race pace, then back to normal pace, is really kind of fun. Or at least it was today. My five minute intervals along the Bay on my lunch break were awesome. The sun was shining. Tons of people were out for runs and walks. And the Bay Bridge was closed, so that part of the city was quieter than usual. And I walked negative splits. I even, briefly, broke a 13 minute-mile pace. Today proved that maybe I really can walk a half marathon in February.

Now, my five minute intervals increase to six minutes in two weeks, and then to seven, and they ascend until I'm doing 14 minute intervals for about an hour and a half. I may not feel so happy in a few weeks, or when I'm out there in the rain, but today was fun.

Intercessions

A good friend is getting married in a few months, and I spent the afternoon today at her bridal shower. I know both halves of this couple, and I've met their friends and his parents, but today I got to meet the extended family.

Now I'm the guest at any party who will undoubtedly make friends with the gay guys and anyone in any sort of religious order. I'm not sure why this is the case. I've destroyed set-up opportunities with this behavior. The bride-to-be is still annoyed that I spent one party talking to her gay friends and totally ignoring the guy she thought would be perfect for a set up.

Since it was a wedding shower it was a female only event, no guys were present. But I struck gold with the religious. The groom's family is very large, and very Irish. And his aunt, a nun with the Dominican order, was a blast. And so were her four friends from her community - women who have been close with the family for decades. I ended up sitting next to them for a good portion of the afternoon, and we had a surprising amount in common. They knew some of the nuns and priests at my church; one of them had worked near where I went to college; the list went on for awhile.

And, as the conversation usually does at events like these, we eventually got to talking about my relationships. One asked if I was married. When I replied no, she asked if "there was anyone special in my life," and then commiserated with me when I mentioned the perils of dating in this city.

We were wrapping up our conversation as I was leaving, and this nun and her friends bade their goodbyes. They said they would look for me at the wedding, and they said they would pray for me. In my quest to find a date. A few extra intercessions would go unnoticed, they said, and you never know how it might help me.

I briefly wondered if I should ask them to pray for something else instead - world peace, perhaps? An end to hunger and violence? The repose of my dad's soul?

But I quickly changed my mind. I told them a dozen girlfriends of mine would also appreciate their prayers. And I've now got half a community of Dominican Sisters from Mission San Jose on my case. Divine intervention is now really possible.

Reflection

Overlooking the Merced River.

Ten Months

I needed the better part of the day to figure out why I'm so angry and depressed and unbelievably sad today. And then I looked at the calendar. Coincidence? Maybe, but ten months ago today my dad died.

I feel like every time I gain my balance something comes by to knock me to the ground and repeatedly run me over. And it really sucks.

Goal Oriented

I've kind of been without a plan all year. I've spent so much time being sick, and focusing on getting well, that I've felt goal-less. That's not to say that getting well hasn't been my goal. It was my primary goal for the last ten months. And I'm still working on it. But now that I'm feeling better, I need a plan. I need some structure.

So I've looked at some training plans and put together a calendar. I've got some smaller races coming up in the next few months, but I think I'm ready for something bigger. Or at least I hope I am. The Kaiser Half Marathon is held every Super Bowl Sunday in San Francisco. The course goes through Golden Gate Park and along Ocean Beach. It's almost in my backyard. I've done the 5K portion of the race, and even in the rain it's an awesome course.

So I'm giving myself a month. I'm going to try some serious training. I'm going to see if my body is really healed. I have high hopes and low expectations, but maybe 2010 is my year, the way 2009 was supposed to be and wasn't. If everything goes well between now and mid-November, I'm registering for the Kaiser Half. And I'm hoping it doesn't rain on race day!

Camping Rain

It always rains when you camp too, right?

2.5 miles without a mermaid costume

The last Sunday in September dawned clear and warm. Seriously warm, for Santa Cruz in fall. It was about 60 degrees before the sun came up, and by the time we got to the beach and set up our transition area, it was actually time for sunscreen.

Once the bikes were set up, the running clothes laid out, and the wetsuits on, it was time to hit the beach. Our task was pretty simple: three people, one quarter-mile swim, one 11 mile bike ride, and a 2.5 mile walk. By splitting up the race among three of us, we hoped we were playing to our strengths. Or at least helping me avoid another massive asthma attack and rescue at sea.


Our swimmer was a 12 year old, the daughter of a friend doing the entire race and a junior lifeguard. She didn't even need Body Glide to get her wetsuit on, and she rocked the swim. She was also one of the youngest girls on the sprint tri course, and she ran into several friends in transition. She was awesome.

She finished the swim, hustled up the 152 (or 161. or 154, but does it really matter?) stairs from the beach to the parking lot transition area, and four minutes later, our cyclist was off. She struggled a little with some chain and shifter issues, but did pretty well overall. And on a mountain bike too.


She rolled back into the parking lot about an hour after she left, and 56 seconds later I was off, with the timing chip wrapped around my ankle, ready to conquer my 2.5 mile race. And I was not wearing a mermaid costume. The race director was, but that's another story entirely.

I jogged through the transition area, and hit a nice stride on the steep downhill that kicked off the course. It was an out and back loop along the Ocean surrounded by pedestrians, RV owners out for the weekend, and lots of other racers. I'm still kicking myself for not having my camera with me, because the path was beautiful, and the other racers were awesome. I passed a few people and we chatted along the way. My first mile clocked in at 14:05. Despite jogging the first quarter mile I was pretty surprised, as I haven't been in shape to walk a sub-15 mile all year.

When I timed my second mile at 14:30 I realized I was on my way to set a personal record. Then I remembered that this race wasn't a 5K, and since I've never raced a 2.5 mile distance I can't really claim a race record. But still, I set a PR. On a course with a really steep hill. After waiting around for a few hours to get moving. I picked up the pace a little up the hill the last quarter mile, and crossed the finish line in slightly over 34 minutes. Three weeks later I'm still smiling about it.

My teammates and I picked up our finisher necklaces, did some browsing at the expo, and watched a friend cross the finish line of the Olympic distance race. She placed first in her age group. She may have been the only athlete in her age group.

And how did we do? My little team of unprepared triathletes placed sixth.

Yes, there were only six relay teams, but really, who's keeping track? We drafted a swimmer at the last minute, our cyclist hadn't been on her bike in about a year, and I'm still recovering from the mono disaster. It's pretty incredible that we finished at all. And I can't wait to do the whole race next year.

The attack of the vicious squirrel

Yosemite has lots of very bold squirrels. They will eat food out of your hand or off your plate, or snatch things from your campsite while you have your back turned. But they can look peaceful and almost cute settled in their natural habitat.
Don't let this little rodent on a rock fool you, though. They are vicious. And hungry. And one of this guy's buddies hit me a little too close to home last Saturday. After a beautiful hike; after I'd eaten lunch; after I'd emptied my pack of all food remnants; after I had returned to my campsite, one of these nasty attack animals went after my backpack.

This is a six inch hole in the front pocket of my beloved hiking pack. And while the stupid squirrel may have smelled peanut butter and jelly, the pack was EMPTY! EMPTY! At least I know he went away disappointed.

Yosemite-bound!

See you next week.