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Showing posts from February, 2012

My hairy armpits

I found myself in a bit of a bind last Sunday, in what started as a mad spiral downward in my attempt to stay afloat. Issues and roadblocks kept cropping up to cause incredible frustration and uncertainty on an evening when I should have been trying to mentally relax and prepare myself for the week ahead. Let me explain… Last week, in a nutshell, was the second of six weeks I am house sitting for a lady with two old cats. An easy job, really, except for the fact I’m living with two of the most obnoxious old men with whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a house. If I had enough room to write out everything their owner asked me to do for them, it would fill up this page. I simply confided to them the next six weeks were going to be the longest weeks of their long hairy lives, because this girl didn’t have time to do half of the unnecessary things their momma swore was pertinent to their existence. For those of you who live out of a gym bag, you know there is nothing quite

Pain loves misery. Misery loves company.

I remember running through complete darkness along the paved trail between Moscow and Pullman during my years studying at University of Idaho. Five years ago, my training consisted entirely of running. Cycling served as something to do on the weekends, and swimming didn’t even exist until my sophomore year. What I remember most, however, revolves around the early morning runs. I awoke at 4:30, donned my warmest clothes, started my GPS, and turned my headlamp on in preparation for eight to ten miles of farmland along a lonely stretch of highway. Running served as my outlet. I buried myself in 20+ credits of biology, chemistry, physics, and human anatomy courses to fill my time. And fill my time it did. So running every morning was my recourse to stay sane. Every. Lonely. Morning. It wasn’t until the thrill of riding my bike overtook me did I realize riding alone—training alone—hardly compared to the enjoyment of working out with other people. My dad always stressed the importance of r

I am a patient

For nearly 12 weeks, my coach has been laying out daily training workouts for me to follow. I am 12 weeks into a training plan that, really, I have not even started. Next week marks my first “official” week of Base 1, yet it feels as though I should be in Base 3 by now. And for those of you who have no idea what Base 1, 2, 3, then Build 1, 2, finally Peak, then race actually mean…I don’t know either. Well, I kind of do, but I don’t. So much of the triathlon world is rooted in lingo to which I’ve only been briefly exposed. For instance, there’s swim lingo: overkicking and kicking in streamline, doing variables, ladder drills, ascending and descending sets. Then there’s bike lingo: single legs, fast pedals, tempos, and steady intervals. Even when you ask different people about the meaning of different lingo, you get similar, but different definitions of the lingo. I’ve resigned to accept the lingo, but not know the lingo. Lingo, lingo, lingo. Lingo. Perhaps the biggest hurdle I’ve