I Just Want to Hang Out...

No big deal!  

Last month, I challenged Steven to the Cabla-Goobla-Goobler Challenge.  We had to do some sort of fitness + watching the Cable Guy + drinking beer + blogging.  The idea of was to break out of the food comma and get some beerness in before December.

Immediately, I ran into a problem.  Okay, 2 problems.

1. My computer was broken.  I replaced the battery, fiddled with the magnets, and then finally gave up and rode it over to Bike World.  My bike bf Steve-Oh set to work on what he thought was a "stupid girl" fix.  An hour later, with a new speed trap, we were back out the door.

2. I could not find a good time to be wasted!  If you have read this blog, you might know that last year, this event resulted in a miscommunication induced sh!t show.  Ideally, I would find an evening where I could complete this 1.5 hour event and then pass out, but I just couldn't find the time.

(Problem 3 was hiding the case of Heine when we had a Franksgiving party.)

I don't think I was the only one with that problem.  I got a message from Steven on Sunday, November 25, at 7:49: "Have you done challenge?"

"No," I replied. "I was going to text you.  I need an extension!"

She replied, "Okay, good.  I think your blog post said until the 30th."

So, I hemmed and hawed, worrying about schedules and coming up with the BEST CHALLENGE CONCEPT EVER and not actually coming up with any good ideas, when I finally said to myself, "Rice, remember those words of wisdom: you get what you get, and don't give a sh!t."  Or something like that.

Before.

Sunday afternoon, December 2, I saddled up for a little ride on the information super highway.  It wasn't going to be legendary, but it was going to be done.

Holiday keeps me company, though she hates the trainer.

So, so I rode.  And, I drank Heines.  And, I laughed out loud, because, if you don't already know this, The Cable Guy is a hilarious movie.

I didn't ride farther than last year, and I didn't drink as much beer, but I did it.

Four Heines, dranked.

Twenty miles: rid.

Reflection: the world of work seems to have stymied me.  There is just too much edu-ma-cating to do to really rock fitness, eat perfectly, blog prose so vivid it would make you weep, and shenanigan.  But, we can't give up!  These blogs represent all that is good and silly and irreverent in our worlds.  So, dear reader, you get what you get and don't give a sh!t!

After.

Heretofore unknown version of the Cat 5 tattoo--that's right, on the front of my calf.

The upshot: I got my bike step up on the trainer.  No excuses now!

Roll credits!

I do have some stuff in the blog hopper, like a Survivor Cross ReCap and the annual Mid-Winter RAGBRAI Total Recall Blog Series.  So, stay tuned gentle reader.  

And, Steven, listen, I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe. 

Needles November Challenge: Concession

Well, in November, our beloved driver and "beaver wrangler," Kelly challenged me to a 26-day challenge.  The results were so-so.  I had a slow start, and didn't do as much as I would have liked to have done, but I did more than I would have done.

The Needles challenge certainly helped pull me out of my early-November funk.  So, that's pretty good.

Item 1: Lost an average of 2-pounds per week: FAIL. I am, more or less, where I started at the beginning of November.

Item 2: Reduce one inch waist size: UBER FAIL. I didn't even measure my waist because I have no tape measure, but if the scientifically accurate jeans method is anything to go by, I still failed on this one.

Item 3: Increase bicep curl by 8 pounds: BOOM!  I started curling 45 pounds max, and I manage to eek out 60 pounds.  I didn't work on biceps in particular, but I have been back to the H2K gym, which helps.

Item 4: 50 sit ups or crunches in 90 seconds: BOOM!  I did crunches and I managed to get 50 done with 27 seconds to spare.

Item 5: 30 push ups in 60 seconds: BOOM! I did girl push ups, but I got 30 out with like 17 seconds to spare.

Item 6: Ride the trainer 4 times per week at an average of 12 miles an hour: ???  I didn't ride the trainer that much, but I did get back to H2K on a regular basis, I also went to a handful of spin classes, and I survived Survivor Cross!

Item 7: No cupcakes: No comment.

Item 8: Only six servings of bread per week: I sort of forgot about this part of the challenge, so again, no comment.

And there you have it folks.  It was not a victory, by a long shot, but I do think that the Needle Challenge helped me bust out of my post-10-Miler, tried-to-give-up-the-Beaver-gym-in-October ennui.  I am back in action, and I started making a plan for 2013.

And, like Steven, over at See Teacher Run, has written about in recent blogs, I am getting a little tired of just meh-ing my way through challenges.

Cab-la-Goob-La Gobbler Deux!

Do you know what was the best/worst fitness/drinking event I did last year?

Me neither.

But in the top 11.6 of best/worst ideas in fitness/drinking had to have been the Cable Guy Challenge.

A Bit of Background
Last year, in a stunning shift in paradigm, I challenged not Steven, but the Mayor to a long-term weight loss/fitness challenge.  We had to ride bikes, lose weight, and do weekly challenges.  One week, Steven stepped in for the Mayor and challenged me to a Cable Guy themed event.

The challenge was to ride the trainer for an hour, drinking as many cold ones as possible, while watching the Cable Guy and doing a Cable Guy-themed drinking game.

Needless to say, it was a sh!t show from start to finish.  I didn't actually read the challenge, so I over rode.  And, Steven drank Heines which was hilarious.  I drank Coors Light--lame!  Then, after all that, drinking and riding, I was wasted.  So wasted that when I went to the BX90 the next morning, and they tried to make me do 500 million weighted lunges, it broke me.

So Why are We Discussing This Again?
Well, it was one of the best/worst ideas we've had in the world of wacky, misguided fitness blogging.  And, I personally, had a lot of fun doing it.

And, I think we should do it again....

Umm, No
No, really, hear me out.

Instead of riding the trainer (which is a hard activity to love), and instead of having '"rules" and "winners" and what-not, instead, we will just do whatever we want, like the Awesomeness Challenge, only with Jim Carey.

Here's How it Could Work 
What: Do something that involves something physical (walking, cycling, skipping, basketball, yoga) for 127 minutes (length of the Cable Guy).  Add (in whatever way you want) Heineken.  Add in watching The Cable Guy.

Who: Everyone!  Everyone is invited.  Just let me know, somehow, if you are in.

Where: Where ever you want.

How: You decided.  See "what."  You also decide how to document said entry.

Why: Because it is awesome, and during the doll-drums of the year, we all need to be reminded of how fitness can and should be fun (and misguided).

When: Sometime between November 18 and November 30.  Hence the "Gobbler."

How do we win?  Who is the judge?  What do we get?
Winning is based on the totally subjective deciding of me and Steven*.  If we decide that you are the winner, you can name your prize!  (And, we will decide if we give it to you).

*I have not discussed this with Steven, so if she is too busy being awesome in other parts of her life, then judging will solely be done by me.

Needles--So Very Pokey!

How's the Needle Challenge?  So far, so pokey.

I just can't seem to get my biscuit in gear.

True, things started off alright.  On Thursday, I took the new ironic cross bike out for a ride in the park, where I learned that owning a bike with racer-gearing is a humbling experience.

Holiday as Dog-stacle

Friday--did nada, oh, except for hanging out with my family visiting from Oklahoma and then seeing the $nacks at Christophers.

No one told me everyone was wearing plaid to the Snacks!

Saturday--was planning on going to spin class, but the family visit continued through brunch.  And, Saturday night was George Clinton* and the Parliment Funkadelic.  (More on George in a bit), after which I got my fill of vitamin C at a local bar that fresh squeezes all of their juice.

P Funk!

Sunday--I hemmed and hawed and decided not to, then decided to do, then decided not to, then decided, for reals, to do the Cranksgiving.  I didn't want to go because it was cold and wet, but that is not a great excuse when you own $5,000 in outerwear.  The event involves racing around town on a bike, going to 10 different stores to get 10 different items to donate to charity.  I rode around in a mockery of fast-ness in the cold, which reminded me that could also be fun.  If only all my grocery shopping were done by bike and by speed, I'd be much happier.

Monday--I packed up my stuff to do spin class after work, but we decided to go the Obama rally, so instead, I took the dog to the park and made dinner.  We did drive the bikes down the Bait shop and rode them over to the rally to avoid parking hassles, which was smart, but not a workout.  If only standing in the cold and yelling "forward" burned calories.

At least we wore cycling caps!

Tuesday--I was tired and nervous.  After work I canvased for a couple hours, which was a nice walk, punctuated by empty house-door knocking and some snacks at the headquarters.  Then, stayed up way too late to watch acceptance speeches.

Volunteering = snacking

Wednesday--so. sleepy.  Did nothing.

Thursday--told myself I needed to sleep in to get rested from Wednesday.

So there you have it.  It is already Day 8 and I am behind in this challenge.  I still have high hopes for turning this Needle Challenge around, and George Clinton is the reason!

Okay, so I have seen a lot of P-Funk concerts.  My friend Pete is obsessed with funk music, and I liked hanging out with Pete, so I started tagging along.  I've seen them in Kansas City, in New Orleans, and at least three times in Des Moines.

Usually, George Clinton, looks, well, busted.  He is famous, but he looks so rough that he routinely gets tossed out of stores and hotels because he looks like a bum.

"I am coming for your baloney!"

Also, for most of the concerts I have been to, he comes out for a few songs, but then retreats to the back.  He is sort of like the exclamation of the concert.

So, when the show started at the Val Air on Saturday night, and there was a man in a tailored beige suit and fedora on stage, I thought nothing of it.  I just assumed he was one of the rotating cast of P-Funk-ers that plays the shows.

Then, one of the younger guys on stage says something like, "oh, I bet y'all came here looking for some guy in crazy, colored dreads, well, he ain't here tonight."

Then, I got a little mad.  "What?  Clinton wasn't even going to show?"  I felt duped, though, in all honesty, my tickets were free.

Then, the guy pointed to the guy in the fedora and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, the legend, the one, the only, George Clinton."

Then, the fedora guy took off his hat and bowed.  "Ha, I thought, he must be some sort of George Clinton impersonator, but he is doing a really bad job."

Then, my friend Pete commented on George Clinton's suit.

"Wait," I said.  "That's George Clinton?"

"Yeah," said Pete.

Holy Heck, he looked completely different.  He looked like a preacher.  Clean-cut, well-groomed, in a suit, and to top it all off, he looked "there."  Not all cracked out.  And, he stayed on stage for virtually the whole show.  He did sit down a few times, right up front, but hey, the guy is 70!  He was dancing and singing and conducting everyone else.  It was like a new person!

Here's a picture I snagged right after the show.

Just kidding.

But seriously, he looked good.

And, if George Clinton can turn from a cracked-out looking bum to a suit wearing, orchestra conducting, bad-ass 70 year old, well, I can get off my biscuit and do some push ups.

Part-Time (Vegetarian) Lover: The Fresh 20

Here are some things that keep me from eating "perfectly."

1. I hate grocery stores.
2. I hate grocery shopping.
3. I hate meal planning.
4. I hate making lists.
5. I hate spending a bunch of money and not using all the ingredients.
6. I have a low tolerance for leftovers.
7. I get sick of eating the same things, but I lack creativity or the willingness to research (and we get both Eating Well and Cooking Light) every month.
8. I am a control freak.  If it can't be my way, even if I don't know what that way is, I don't like it.
9. I don't like complicate cooking on weeknights.
10. I am food snob, despite issues 1-9.
11. I am just a bad person with no will power.

But recently, I have found a solution to nearly all of these problems.  And, it is called "The Fresh 20."

My sister, Easy-E, told me about F20 a few weeks ago.  E has the kind of energy and work ethic that makes beavers jealous, but when she isn't scrubbing her bathroom or shopping, she does a lot of reading.  Lately, it has been about food and food issues.

Now, she has trotted out a lot of crazy ideas, most of which I ignore.  But, there was something about the idea of the Fresh 20 that stuck.

Here's what it is:

The Fresh 20 is a website that you subscribe to ($4 or $50 for the year).  Each week they publish a meal plan that includes 5 dinners for 4 adults, recipes  a shopping list, and nutritional content.  And, get this, while  you have to have the "pantry staples" on hand, you only have to buy 20 new ingredients each week.  And, you only buy as much as you need.

The plans are either vegetarian, classic (with meat), or gluten free.  We went with the vegetarian, because we thought it would be cheaper and both the Tiger and I have some reservations about meat and factory farms and animal cruelty.  Not enough to become full time vegetarians; I mean, come on, La Quercia bacon exists.

So far, it's been great!  The grocery shopping is so painless, that I don't mind doing it.  The meals and fairly quick and easy, and because it makes enough for 4, we have left overs for lunch.

Better yet, the meals are usually between 300-600 calories a serving, and they are filling, and with a few exceptions, really pretty good.  And because I am eating so many vegetables I feel very smug and resplendent with antioxidants 

The only problems we have fun into are when we skip a night.  We don't always want to cook on Friday nights, then we have udon noodles just hanging around the house.  Or, if the Tiger forgets to take his lunch, the leftovers start to pile up, and some of the meals are just so-so.

Better yet, the Tiger found a Group-On, so we got the whole year for on $20 bucks.

The Tiger does get a little cranky.  He doesn't agree with the principle behind stove-top lasagna, and he doesn't like being required to slice things thinly if he doesn't want to, but overall, it's been great.

And, it gives me hope!  Hope that I can eat tasty, seasonal food, without wasting my time searching for recipes or getting stuck with tons of extra groceries, hope that my dinners can be healthy and portion controlled without me having to worry about it so much.

One of the things that I have always said about trying to live a healthier lifestyle is that it takes a lot of thought and concentration, but the Fresh 20 sort of out-sources some of that mental energy.

Now that I am a part-time vegetarian, I can spend other part-time worrying about my cold and damp doom during Survivor Cross.

Also, I have an excuse to have this song running through my head full-time.

Threading the Needle: Day 1

Good morning, November.  So glad that you are here.  There are so many things to be thankful for in November: the Tweed Ride, Drag Queen Bingo, sandwich Thanksgiving, and the fact that once you get to the end of November, it is nearly December and the end of the semester.

Today also marks the first day of the Threading the Needle Challenge.  One reader has volunteered to join me by cutting out some of the booze!  Go girl!  Two days down!

Yesterday, I decided to see just where I am starting with this whole bicep curl concept, so after my H2K workout, I loaded up a 45 pound barbell with 10 extra pounds and tried to do 10 curls.  I got 6, so I am going to say that my starting bicep curl weight is 45 pounds.

But, wait!  All along, I had thought that the brown barbells at the gym were 45 pounds, but no!  Jen Veak told me, after I finished my curls that they are really 55 pounds!  All along, I have been using this barbell during workouts and I have actually been lifting 10 extra pounds.  Go me!

So, my starting weight for 10 bicep curls is 55 pounds.  I need to get to 63 by November 30! (Why 8 pound increase?)

Tonight, I lieu of an indoor bike ride, and I going to take my new (to me) cyclocross bike out for a spin around the park.

What new cyclocross bike, you ask?

This! New(tome) Cyclocross Bike!

The Tiger found a used 47cm 2008 Trek XO on Craigslist.  It's got a carbon fork and cranks, and nice brakes, and 105.  The size and the price were right, so after a quick test ride around the fancy part of outer Johnston, it is now mine!

The weather is supposed to be glorious this afternoon, and the puppy is at daycare, so she won't mind if I ditch her for a bit after work today to go for a spin around Wittmer.

That will be my first bike ride of the Thread the Needle Challenge.  I will also do my baseline crunches and push-ups, weigh-in, and measurements, if I can locate a tape measure.

Stay tuned, or if you are needling a bit of a challenge yourself, email me!  Or comment on the blog, and I will hold you November-accountable.  Together, we are going to make this the best 11th-month of this whole year.

Not Scared of Needles!

On October 8th, I received a challenge from one Kelly "the Beaver Wrangler", proposing a fitness challenge.

The subject line read: Yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's the challenge:

1.        26 day fitness challenge.   30 days in November (less November 22-25 for Thanksgiving).  I’m not counting this because I know I will eat and drink too much.

 

2.        Need to average 2 lbs. week  for the month in weight loss.

3.        Waste size reduction in month of one inch.

4.        Increase barbell curl by 8 lbs. (one set of 10 at max. weight).

5.        50 sit-ups (or crunches) in 90 seconds by end of month.

6.        30 push-ups in 60 seconds by end of month.

7.        Ride trainer an average of 12 miles per hour for one hour (4 times per week).

Food restrictions:

1.        No cupcakes (right from your blog).

2.        Limit bread to 6 servings per week (pizza, sandwiches, etc.)

NOTE:  no restrictions on beer or I can’t do this at all, okay?

Intriguing, I thought, but at the time I wasn't able to think as far ahead as November.  

Now, November has arrived: 

Start date is near.   Been riding indoors alot and lifting weights a fair amount.   Not sure I’m going to be real good at the weight loss portion of our challenge but will try to hold true to my effort.  Hope things are going well for you, say hey to the Bill-meister!!!!*

Beaver Wrangler + Bill Meister

*Bill-meister = The Tiger.

Now, being that November is only days away, I am able to entertain November thoughts.  

My first thought was that some of these challenge elements are new to me: barbell curls?  

But, my second thought was, "heck, sounds like fun."  

At some point, I asked Kelly what we were challenging for and he said, "glory."  That and the beer makes me love him so.

So, here is my challenge, gentle reader: 30 days of bar bell curls and push-ups and crunches, and laying off the cupcakes (I should probably just make it all cake...).  

Riding the trainer can be fun with a enough "entertainment" (Steven, look over here: wink, wink).   

And, who doesn't want to do more crunches and push ups?  Though, this morning we did 50-40-30-20-10 rep sets of push ups, shoulder presses, bicep curls, tricep kick backs, squats, sit ups and step ups, and, boy, 50 push ups in a row is a lot!  

So, here's a random collection of thoughts.

1. It's on: readers, who wants to join me?  Anyone?   

2. My plan is to BX Monday, Wednesday and possibly Friday, then spin Tuesday, Thursday mornings, maybe add spin Monday and Wednesday afternoons, or yoga on Wednesday evenings.  Tuesday is the last Renegade Cyclocross practice, but I am still supposed to do the Survivor Cross (mayday, mayday!), so workout should be good.  (Of course, after Slacktober anything would be good.)

3. Need to see what my 10-rep max is for bicep curls actually is so I can see if I can raise it by 8 pounds.  Too bad that as I sit here writing this I am wearing my Rosie the Riveter costume because I could have used some post-November guns.  Should probably see how long it takes me to do 30 push ups and 50 crunches.  

Kelly, I know you read this, can we post our pre-November stats for curls, pushups, crunches, etc.?

4. Like Kelly, I am not sure how the weight loss is going to go, but I have yet to tell you all about my new eating-scheme.  

5.  The Des Moines Register is stupid, and they finally proved it.  

So, that's what I'll be doing in November.  What about y'all? 

Tower of Terror 10-Miler Race Report

(Dear reader: apologies for the long delay.  I hope I can compensate for my lack of autumnal posting with an unnecessarily long race report.)
 
I went to Disney World and all I got was a sprained ankle.  

Okay, I got a medal too, and an less hefty wallet.  And some bonding time with the lady side of my family.  

Last year, my auntie Barb and my cousin Kris were talking about doing a girls weekend in Disney World (my family is inexplicably obsessed with Disney World), complete with a Princess Half-Marathon. 

I thought this sounded horrible.  I hate Disney World, I hate running, I hate Florida, I hate January (I guess that would be better), and my family yells a lot when they are in a confined area like a hotel room.

And, I was pretty well prepared to ignore the whole thing, until my mom got that little Tinkerbell glimmer in her eye.  She wanted to do it.  My mom is a tough lady.  She kicks the crap out of the geriatrics crowd in her water aerobics classes that she teaches.  She also golfs, and walks, and keeps an immaculate house.  But, she has never been a runner.  She's got a bad back, for starters.  Still, she wanted to do it.  

Then, my cousin announced that we could get her Disney-time share for free if we changed plans and went to the Tower of Terror 10-Miler in September.  Mom was in.  Auntie Barb was in.  Joiny-Mc-Joiner-son Emily was in.  So, I condescended to look at the training program.  

Starting from scratch, the training program would require I spend the majority of my summer running at least 3 times a week, in complicated interval-like patterns (tempo 4*100, rate 10% 8 minutes, 34^&-capacity for 12 minutes, and cool down).  I calculated how much of my outside/fitness/fun-time would be spent running, reminded myself that I hated running, then announced that I would travel to Florida, in support of my mom, but I would not be running.  

I was only going to support my mom.  

Mom, in the meanwhile, was kicking ass and taking names.  She was running and walking up a storm.  She bought a GPS watch.  She trained for a 5k.  She dropped a boatload of weight.  And, she even hurt her foot, which didn't stop her from her training.  It just slowed her down to power walking.  

All summer we were flooded with emails from my cousin Kris about signing up for the race, and the Magical Shuttle Express, and discount park tickets if you registered through RunDisney.com/whatthefuck.com.  I have to give her credit.  The girl can organize.  Finally, dragging my feet, I bought my plane ticket and park tickets and used up my remaining personal days.  

I arrived in Florida late on the night of September 27th.  The other ladies were arriving on Friday afternoon, so my mom and my sister and I spent the day at Animal Kingdom, and then we waited for a series of buses to go to the packet pick up at the ESPN Center.  (Note: waiting for buses in Disney World is incredibly cruel.  They take as long as buses every where else, but there are no alternatives, and you can just hear the money going down the drain of magical minutes unspent in the park).  

Packet pick up was a nightmare.  After long and tedious waits for buses that would never come, we arrived at the Expo, which didn't offer any free stuff!  There I realized that the ten mile run had 10,000 (!) participants.  We grabbed the packets, and I was the guinea pig who tested my Aunt Barb's chip.  I walked across the device and "Barb" came up.  Little did I know this was foreshadowing!

Then, we ate a pretzel, then it poured rain so we hung out in the sports bar, then we waited for the bus again, until we got so frustrated, we found a cab (who knew?).  It was a van, so we called back to the folks in line, RAGBRAI-style to see if anyone else was staying at the Boardwalk.  A couple fellas joined us and we were off, leaving the line of bus-waiting-suckers behind.

By the time we returned home, we had a few minutes to get cleaned up and meet the ladies across the pond (more waiting, this time for a water bus), for truffle martinis in the Landlubbers Bar.  There, my aunt announced that she wouldn't be running the race.  She had a bum hip.  "I should run it for you and you can take my ticket!" I said, mostly joking.  

Then, the idea sort of stuck.  

That night, awash in truffle martinis, I called Steven, who was headed to Des Moines for a wedding (we missed each other!  Damn you Walt Disney!), and asked, "how much damage do you think I could do by doing a 10-mile race without training."  She giggled, and relayed the message to the Mayor.  You know what their answer must have been.

After our chat, and some pondering, I decided there was no way I could complete the race in the required 16 minute mile pace. I am just too slow, so I could just go out there, putz along, then get swooped up in the sag wagon for a night of carousing at Hollywood Studios, while I waited for the other ladies to finish up.  No reason to let Auntie Barb's $100 fee to go waste, right?   

Things This Plan Had Going Against it: 
1. I had done no training.  I don't remember ever having walked ten miles in a row, unless I was back packing.

2.  I didn't bring my "workout" undies, and I hated the work out pants I brought, and the shoes!  I bought a pair of really lightweight "running" shoes for the H2K gym.  They are light enough that they don't slop around when I am doing burpees and what-have-you, but they provide nearly no support.

Ultra Light Trail Shoes: Good for Weight Lifting, Bad for Ankles

 3.  Also, I hate running.  

The day of the race we took it pretty easy.  We hung out by the pool, working on our tans and gossiping.  My mom was all antsy-in-her-pantsy, so she didn't want to lounge.  

We had a light dinner and took a bit of a disco-nap, and before long, we had to get on the shuttle that would take us to the start.  We had to be on the bus no later than 8pm.  I put on my hated running apparel and my "number."  My mom gave me some Gu, just in case.  From that point on, I would be "Babs," my aunt Barb's arch-nemesis.  

Norman, a.k.a. "Babs."

 I made "this-is-a-bad-idea" faces in all our pictures.

This is my "what am I doing here face?"

Pre-Race Warm Up Then we arrived in the massive, theme-park parking lot where we would have to wait until our 10 o'clock start.  Besides the start corrals, there was a stage, the bag drop off, some food carts, and some long line for photo ops.  The 100 picnic tables were already claimed, so we dropped out stuff and popped a squat a hundred yards back from the DJ who was dressed as a bell hop and directed the crowd in dance moves.  

Eventually, we got up and wandered to a different spot and repeated the same process.  It was approximately 8:17pm.

Just keep waiting.

We did some yoga, some asphalt napping, some dancing.  I imagine it was sort of like being held in an immigration detention center. 

Little pre-race squats never hurt anyone.

The Start
Then, finally, we got into our corral and waited some more.  Mom, who was as nervous as a whore in church, got in line to pee.  Easy-E was in the first corral, because she is fast.  Kris and I hung around by the water, waiting.

When we finally started moving, we had to walk, en masse down this road towards the start.  We could hear the starting gate through loud speakers and see the fireworks over the trees.  Wait.  Creep forward.  Wait.  Creep forward.  Wait. Creep.

Then, we were at the front, ready to start.  All around me were running bell-hops, and running fairies, and running Minnie Mouses.  Then, the fireworks went off and we were out of the gate.  My plan was to try to stick with my mom, who was power-walking.  I hung with her through the chaos of the first half mile, as we passed and got passed, but dang, can she walk fast.

Don't Mess with a Speed Walker

Turns out, she doesn't power walk, she nuclear power walks.  I couldn't walk as fast as her, but if I jogged it was too fast.  Finally, I gave up and let her slip off the front.

Fellow Racers
Then, it was just me.  I jogged a bit and walked a bit.  Passing and re-passing the same folks. Instantly, I was totally sweated out.  There was enough chaos and people watching to make the miles tick off, though the route was essential a double out and back.  Mile 1 and Mile 2 were uneventful and I was feeling pretty good.  We entered the gate to the Animal Kingdom, where there was a well-marked speed bump.  There were also at least 15 people with flashlights pointing out the very well-lit speed bumps, but, also, there was a recording that repeated loudly, over and over, "Caution Runners!  Speed Bump Ahead!  Caution Runners!  Speed Bump Ahead!  Caution Runners!  Speed Bump Ahead."

I kept trucking along, trying to vary my run/walk ratios based on the spacing of the light posts.  Run 1/Walk 1, Run 2/Walk 1, all the way up to run 14.  Apparently, other runners around me were using better technology because I was about the same pace with people with super annoying beepy watches, that beeped everytime they were supposed to walk and/or jog, which apparently was on a :20 second interval.  It was a beeping festival.

Also, if I am going to keep running, I need to run faster because I was in the farting group.

Near mile 3 or 4, I heard someone shout "Lauren," as I jogged by.  It was my mom!  She was still trucking along.  We chatted a bit. She said she was feeling good, but she didn't want to slow me down.  I reassured her that I was only the slightest bit faster while jogging, and I was pretty sure she would catch me.  

Race Nutrition
Also: Gu?  Disgusting.  I don't know why I didn't think that after riding in my "mammary pocket" it wouldn't be body temperature, but choking down slick, artificial slime at 98 degrees is probably worse than just starving to death.
Terrain 
Overall the terrain was not as exciting as I had thought.  Most of the run was just roads around the Disney resort, long empty stretches of asphalt with trees lining both sides.  At each mile marker, there was a light-up "spooky" sign, and some sort of photo opt.  The best one was these scary undertaker guys on the track at ESPN.  One swung his shovel around on the bricks, throwing up sparks.  By the time I got to the water stations, they were littered with trash, like some third world slum, and most of the race was just an out and back.  I assumed there would be entertainment, like, the whole way.  It was Disney World, right?  Mostly, it was just running, in the sweaty dark with 10,000 of your closest gassy friends.

Eventually, the race ducked into a gravel trail, then we went through the baseball stadium at ESPN Sports Center, then we made our way back to the Hollywood Studios.  Near the end of the race, we ran through the studios--through the Indian Jones exhibit, and the Pixar area, down the New York lot, through some weird costume design center, and then the finish line was in a crappy parking lot.  

I am not sure when I started noticing my ankle throbbing, but it didn't hurt bad enough to stop.  Somehow, weirdly, and to my own amazement, I had made it: 10 miles, and certainly not the last person.

The Finish
I trudged through the gate, and gathered up the goodies they handed out: a medal, a box of food, a Poweraide.  All I wanted to do was sit down and collect myself, but all the available spots were taken up with hunkered down runners.  To be honest, it looked like a Civil War battle field, but instead of wool, there was Lyrca.  My people, the farting people, were hurting. 

My mom finished the race 7248 out of 8721 finishers, and 10500 entrants. Not bad for her first race. Emily came in at 1150, Kris at 5467, and Lauren (aka Babs) at 6830.

Post-Race Cool Down
On I trudged, in search of the baggage claim, hoping to see my family.  I had been feeling pretty fine all the way through the race, but after I crossed the finish line I was pooped.  Then I saw the for baggage claim.  It was at the bottom of the amphitheater that looked just like the Cairo scene in Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Arch.  The line was massive and there were stairs.  Stairs!  Now, my ankle was hurting, for reals.

Finally, my stuff collected, I tried to hunker down near some fake date barrels, only to be shooed away by a volunteer.  "Back up the stairs," she barked.  Okay, she didn't, but she did run me out of there.  Outside the Indiana Jones show, I found a spot to park it for a minute and call my sister.  There were just a few yard away, so once again, I packed up and moved on. 

E had been there for a while, hanging with my cousin and her friend who came to spectate.  My auntie and her sister in law were missing, but they soon returned with glasses of wine.  After a few congratulations, they left. 

So proud of my mom!  She turned into a runner in less than a year!

My mom turned up, and there were hugs all around.  We had been planning on going on some rides, but I was too tuckered out to wait in more lines, so we found a burger joint, and I found a Heineken.  After eating, and then a walk back to our resort, we all crashed out. 

I had to buy my self a Heinie

Recovery
In the morning, my ankle was hurting, not terribly, but walking didn't feel great.  Our plan was to go to Ebcot for the Food and Wine Festival and to "drink around the world."  Turns out, if you do drink around the world, with gusto, you don't need to worry about injured ankles, or even feeling your legs. 

After a nap, a fancy dinner, and some pool time the next morning, I was back on the Magical Shuttle, headed home. I got the ankle checked out on Tuesday.  Nothing serious, but I had to take it easy for a couple weeks. 

Mom has decided that she wants to do this one again.  Or maybe the Princess Half-Marathon, or the Cigna running weekend at Disney.  Me, I don't think so.  Worse than half-hearted training for running events, has to be not-training and then exceeding your low expectations.  It starts to give you false notions about your abilities.  And, that can lead to something truly terrifying.

Super Fatness

Ahhh!!!

Toasting my fatness at Epcot Center.

Holy Hell!  I don't know where exactly this back slide began.  Was it post-RAGRBRAI-stress disorder?  Was it wedding-travel angst?  Was it the starting back to school, and finding myself once again in the hands of the Cupcake Conspiracy?

I have been getting fat, fat, super fat.  Look at that chunky monkey!

Usually, when I notice myself headed in the wrong direction, I try to pick it up at the gym, and drink more water, and eat a little less, and the back slide stops.

Not this time, nope.  I am half way down the slip and slide to total regression, and I don't know how to self-arrest myself.

So, here's step one, acknowledging that this is a serious problem.

Now, step two, what do I do?  I've been thinking about taking up the Paleo-Diet, at least for a few weeks, just to try and get myself off the sugar.  I've got the feeling it's going to take something extreme, a super plan to combat the super fatness.

P.S. The reason why I used my phone blog-machine is because the pictures show up kind of blurry.  I know that, and I used it, so you, blog-reader, wouldn't see the full blown digital detail of my fatness.

Cyclocross 2: Rice 1.5

Last night I went to my 3rd (count 'em) official cyclocross practice.  Not only did I not fall down, even once, but, I passed someone.  Two someones, actually.  Though, for fairness sake, I will have to mention that they were running the course, and they passed me back when I had to schlep the Cannonball up old mount heart attack.  So, point for me! 

Also, I made a friend.  In RAGBRAI 2010, the mayor and I were paling around with this gal he new from his time spent in the Gulag, also known as Ames.  Her name was Jessica.  We probably would have had a lot of fun, until a category 87 tornado blew through Glenwood.  The Mayor and I high tailed it to the VFW for $2 beers and Jessica took her bike back to camp. 

Anyhow, last night, as I was loading up, she came over and said hello.  She had to remind me who she was because a) I am terrible with remembering everything, especially faces.  b) it wouldn't have mattered if I had recognized her because she has lost 100 pounds and looks like a million bucks.  We chatted a bet, then walked across the field to partake in the keg that someone brought to practice (this is why I think cyclocross is the discipline for me).  She's a bit of a racist, in that I think she only thinks about racing and other racers, but she seemed cool.  We are now FB friends, and I am hoping some of that 100 pound mojo, or speed mojo will rub off on me.  Half point!

Cyclocross is still ahead with two crashes, but you will be happy to know both my arm (Witmer post-brunch practice) and my leg (steep little hill last week at Stone Park) are healing up nicely. 

What's even super-more-awesome are my students.  Well, one student in particular.  They noticed that I had turned my right forearm into hamburger and polietly asked what the hell happened.  Not wanting to waste too much class time, but also not wanting them to think I was a victim of domestic violence, I asked if anyone had heard of cyclocross.  The room responded with 20 blanks stares, and one raised hand. 

One student knows what cyclocross is!  More than that, he has done it.  In fact, he has a bad ass scar to prove it.  The next day, he brought me this book!

Thanks student!

Now, I can read about keeping the rubber side down.  And, at least one student doesn't think I am an alien from the planet Bike Dork.

Upcoming Plans: Cyclo-Brunch.  I want to get a crew together to practice at Witmer Park on Sunday, then retreat to the Library Cafe for recovering food and beverage after.  

Cyclo Thoughts

So, here I am on the verge of getting ready to try another cyclocross practice. Sunday brunch made me fearless, but less of a bike handler. I got this little number, plus the kind of chiropractic cracking one sees in Van Damme movies. Do I really think I can handle this?

$33.07 Poorer

And 9.7% more fearless.

Just got signed up. 

74 days to prepare.

Mittens, Surviving, and Life without a Camera

So, the camera on my camera phone is broken, and I have to say, it has rendered my phone about 70% less useful.  Combined with the fact that my Nikon camera won't hold a battery and I am near camera-less.  In many ways this has become a damper on my lifestyle so great that I am almost ready to call the insurance company, but the most significant damperage is the severe limitations on the visual media in this blog.

One of the things that I couldn't document, for example, was me, sacking up and going to the Renegade Cyclocross 101 Clinic last night.  And, I only needed the training wheels of no-less than three supportive friends in attendance, and a pre-clinic practice on Monday to get me over my fear.

I mean, I think they design this whole cyclo-cross thing, and cycling in general to be intimidating.  All the pros run around with grimaces the likes of which only appear in burn recovery units.  There is a ton of confusing terminology, a profusion of men having my-penis-is-bigger-than-your-penis-by-proxy contests, and all anyone can say about cyclo-cross and often cycling in general is that it is all about the exquisite joy of suffering.

The first :45 seconds of this video should illustrate my point.

Plus, there's my own insecurities, such as having an ass the size of a continent, and wearing tight pants.  Combine that with the fact that the cyclocross asks you to get on and off your bike at speed, run uphills with an unwiedly piece of equipment, and jump over stuff, all which risk catastrophic levels of crash induced embarrassment, and you have one scary Tuesday evening. 

But I went.  Mostly because the Tiger has been reminding me in subtle and not so subtle ways of my motto for the year, yes, it's "fearless." He even went so far as to give me this card for my birthday.

They dared Mittens to do it, and Mittens never turned down a dare.

The inside says, "Here's to living life on the edge!"  And, the Tiger wrote, "Happy Birthday Sweetie!  Here is to another year of fearless living!"  I guess I have been a bit of a chicken lately. 


(The Tiger is notorious for giving ridiculously cheesy, borderline-grandma-cards, but this one was exceptional).

So, I went, and it wasn't that bad.  I mostly hung with Jen V. from the gym.  She's a beginner too, but she knows everyone who rides a bicycle in Des Moines, so it went okay.  In fact, Kyle Sedore, the fastest man in the 515, who scares me, explained how to hop back on the bike in a way that I actually understood.  Then, I did a couple laps of the course, which was super fun.  Then, I had one (count em one) malty recovery drink with my bike boyfriends.  Pretty awesome.

Fearlessness, or at least, choking down my fear, worked yet again.

This morning, at H2K (the gym-like activity formerly known as BeavX90), Jen and I were debriefing about the night before.  She's really excited to do the Oakley Night Cap Cross at Mullet's in October.  I am focusing on something more grand (more on that to follow).  I was like, "oh, you can do it, you'll be fine."  And she responded that she didn't just want to "do it."  She wanted to do "fairly well, like middle of the pack."

I have somewhat lower expectations for myself.  I have totally embraced the whole Malcolm Gladwell Outliers 10,000 hours concept.

1.5 hours down.  9,997.5 to go!

Meaning, it's going to take some time to get better, let alone approaching good.  And, I am trying to be cool with that.  It's hard to do something that you suck at for one hour, let alone 10 hours, or 50 hours, but that doesn't give me an excuse to not do it.

So, sucky or not, scared or not, I am declaring before God and blogosphere, that I am going to keep at it, with the end of goal, of, duh, duh, dAH!

Survivor Cross.

Does the music make it seem just wacky and fun?

The cyclocross race that takes place the afternoon of the Living History Farms run--7 miles of mud, creeks, and pain, or so I've heard.  We're going to put that whole "harder to kill" promise to the test.  If I can figure out how to register, I am in.

I am working on a "training plan."  I've heard those help.  More details to come.

Wish me luck, hand me up a Hamm's, or better yet, come and join me.

GO STEVEN GO! Awesomeness on High

Today, on the eve of the Pikes Peak Ascent I want everyone to send out your bestest, most powerful vibes to my pal, and fellow blogger, Steven, a.k.a. "Smithers," "the Boss," among other aliases. 

Steven is going to spend a lovely Saturday running up a huge mountain, because she can.  Because she is awesome.  I know it's going to hurt.  I know there are going to be times when she goes to the "dark place."

But, I know that she is going to do it.  Because she does everything she sets out to do.  Because she has never once, at least that I know about, not met a challenge she has set out for herself.  Because she is pig headed.  Because she is amazing.  Because this is the last chance to run up Pikes Peak of our senior year, uh, er, I mean, your 30th year.  Because she is awesome.

So, shoot her a text, send her an email, or stop by See Teacher Run and offer a little digital bowing down to Her Royal Highness of Awesome. 

Steven, I salute you!

The End of Slacker Month!

There's just something about doing a workout with the slogan "embrace the suck" that makes a gal want to take a break.

There's just something about blogging in the month of July that also makes a gal want to take a break.

Then again, there's something about an increasingly large beer belly and a decreasing number of clothes that fit that make a gal want to workout again.

And, then again, there's something about walking into your local LBS and getting chastised by your favorite be-hatted mechanic that makes a gal want to blog again. 

This is my tentative attempt to get back into the swing of both.  No details.  Just a little warm up.

So, I decided that July was "slacker" month.  We finished our 12-week "harder to kill" box step of death routine with 10 minutes of sandbag get ups and 1000 weight box steps and some Summer Shandy during the last week of June.  And, the whole crew took a mini-break that following week.

I went to Colorado with the Tiger and the pup in tow and did the Brewery 100.  It. Was. Awesome.  There was surprise followed by surprise; there was beer; and there was the realization that though I could have ridden more miles, I could not drink another malty beverage.  Good to know where those limits are.

All sober smiles at sunny mile 50!

Then, thoughts turned to the RAGBRAI.  After the RAGBRAI everyone asks you about the RAGBRAI.  I don't know what to say?  It was hot?  It was amazing?  It was a building year?  I don't know.  Steven, over at See Teacher Run, and I agreed to a RAGBRAI blog hiatus until, say, January.  I think I will need until then to digest all that happened.

Most of TB RAGBRAI 2012

In both cases, it was great to have the full Team Beaver in operation, rather than year's past when folks have been stymied by knee surgery, lack of vacation time, and demanding infants.

In between those two cycling events, I worked out like twice.  I rode my bike some, and did a few H2K workouts, but mostly I slept in and freaked out about work. 

Now, it is August, and all good slacks must come to an end.  I've been back to H2K and I've embraced the suck.  My quads were stiff all last week.  This week's pain: hamstrings!  But it feels good to be working hard again.

We didn't get registered for the Hy-Vee Triathlon, so that is off the books, but I am tentatively planning to go to the first Bike Iowa cyclocross for beginners clinic in September.  Then, there's the Beaver Dash, and, dare I say it, Survivor Cross in November.  Along the way there are also trips to California, Florida, and Iowa City. 

I was dreading the end of summer, the end of slacker month, but with so much fun on the horizon, I feel the promise of workouts to be sweated through, bikes to be ridden, and blogs to be blogerated.  

Mediation on the Eve of Depature for the Brewery 100

Ew. How do I get someone else to pack for me?

There are not enough outlets in my house for all these electrical devices I want to charge.

Remember how I have to ride all the way across Nebraska?

Will the Mayor's stache be as glorious this year?

Biker dance + stache = magic.

Will the Tiger read the instructions for the new bike rack?

Will we be able to "beat" the proverbial heat?

Beat the heat!

My computer was acting up on Sunday night.  Will it decide to sabotage me again this year?

Stupid computers.

 Will I have to serve myself my own blackberry cobber?

Would've been tastier with table service.

What are Steven's surprises?

Am I going to die? (My theory is that both Steven and the Mayor have secretly been training their tails off).

Will Holiday eat the back seat of the car out of boredom?  Will I?

Sandbagger!

Mmmm...delicious Iowa contraband beer.

Must water tomatoes.

How do we convince this guy to skip the racing and join us for some beer, beer, beer, bike, bike bike?

Skin suits are totally allowed on the B100

We still have a half gallon of milk to drink.  Good thing milk is a natural electrolyte.



Why did it take the Tiger until today to realize his front wheel is rubbing?

Tiger style

How freaking awesome is this?

100