Monthly Archives: June 2009

Testees on the testes.

I miss my boys. On any ride more than an hour, there ceases to be a there there. It has become necessary to replace the stock saddle that came with my Cervelo, and I have been putting off the decision because I’m getting stingy and am quite tired of buying Stuff. The Stuff never seems to end, especially after the horror that was my return from Boise. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that in my race report: when I brought the bike box back to Tri Zombies on Tuesday Scott informed me that a hole had been punched into his disk wheel. Ironman bikes didn’t see any damage when they packed it, the box was undamaged, so obviously someone opened it, broke the wheel, and closed it up hoping not to get caught.

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20:49 at the Culver City 5K!

How the hell did I PR that race? Yesterday was crazy long: up at 5:30am, then all morning with the CHLA team meeting and helping with the ocean 101 clinic, then a two hour workout and two birthday parties. Didn’t get to bed until 1am, then up again at 6:30am for today’s race. Let’s just say I was pretty tired.

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2009 Boise Ironman 70.3, HTFU

On the phone with coach Brian the morning of the race he asked if I could figure out how to do this race just for fun to let him know. He’s doing Vineman soon, “just for fun” and has serious doubts that he can get his head away from the numbers to focus on the joy of the journey. Here’s a way: do your swim in a lake that slaps you around the way Jack Nicholson treated Faye Dunaway at the end of Chinatown, do your bike inside a car wash during a tornado for 56 miles, and then do your run in a kiddie pool. After a while you’ll stop caring about the numbers, your watch, the race clock, and you’ll just think one thing: HTFU. Harden The Fuck Up.

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It should be obvious that the second fifty miles of a century ride are harder than the first. However, knowing that intellectually doesn’t prepare you for the magnitude of difference. Eight of us began the ride, two of us did the whole thing. Eight people were kind enough, enthusiastic enough, and energized enough to do 50. Two of us were crazy enough to do the full 100. There was something both gratifying and heartbreaking about pulling into the parking lot after riding 50 miles and seeing my friends cooling off and racking their bikes while I stopped, reloaded water bottles, bumped fists with friends, and then rolled out to do the 50 mile course again.

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