Saturday, July 25, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Finally Fat Fish
For years I've wanted to swim the 3.2 mile Fat Salmon race from I-90 to Madison Park.
Typically, on the mid-July Saturday when the race falls, I'm off on a long bike ride or taking a rest day before Sunday's Sea Fair Tri. This year's knee injury brought the opportunity to swim it at last. Don't you just love silver linings?
I need to learn to hurt out there.
I swam the distance comfortably...finishing in 1:24. That's a long time to swim. By the time I reached the diving platform at Madison, I thought to myself...I should just keep going. It's a beautiful morning. Can I really be done already?
Someone once asked me, "How far can you swim?" and I answered "How far can you walk?"
That's how I felt yesterday. There seemed no reason to stop. I've got to find some speed somewhere. I know it's in the pool, waiting for me, but I just can't face it.
Tomorrow, Liz and I are ditching our wetsuits and starting naked swim season. I think it will be surprisingly liberating. I am tired of neoprene on my shoulders.
My friend Andrew once theorized that chlorine is a drug. Your body gets used to it, he said, and when deprived, starts to miss it. He said he always got the blues in August, because his body missed the chlorine after a few months of swimming in the lake.
My friend Joe once said that chlorine has made him bald.
I think they both might be on to something. My arms and legs are downy like they never get in winter. I've been sad lately, despite the glorious, glorious lake swim mornings.
Yesterday at the Fat Salmon it was like a big, lovely family reunion at the water's edge. I was 9th overall, 3rd in my age group. I swam way too wide, following someone I thought was Michael Jones whose navigation and late-race sprint capacity I trusted. His strong kick pulled me along.
Turned out to be someone else altogether. I bought Michael a chocolat-y chip frappucino at the end of the race all the same.
Typically, on the mid-July Saturday when the race falls, I'm off on a long bike ride or taking a rest day before Sunday's Sea Fair Tri. This year's knee injury brought the opportunity to swim it at last. Don't you just love silver linings?
I need to learn to hurt out there.
I swam the distance comfortably...finishing in 1:24. That's a long time to swim. By the time I reached the diving platform at Madison, I thought to myself...I should just keep going. It's a beautiful morning. Can I really be done already?
Someone once asked me, "How far can you swim?" and I answered "How far can you walk?"
That's how I felt yesterday. There seemed no reason to stop. I've got to find some speed somewhere. I know it's in the pool, waiting for me, but I just can't face it.
Tomorrow, Liz and I are ditching our wetsuits and starting naked swim season. I think it will be surprisingly liberating. I am tired of neoprene on my shoulders.
My friend Andrew once theorized that chlorine is a drug. Your body gets used to it, he said, and when deprived, starts to miss it. He said he always got the blues in August, because his body missed the chlorine after a few months of swimming in the lake.
My friend Joe once said that chlorine has made him bald.
I think they both might be on to something. My arms and legs are downy like they never get in winter. I've been sad lately, despite the glorious, glorious lake swim mornings.
Yesterday at the Fat Salmon it was like a big, lovely family reunion at the water's edge. I was 9th overall, 3rd in my age group. I swam way too wide, following someone I thought was Michael Jones whose navigation and late-race sprint capacity I trusted. His strong kick pulled me along.
Turned out to be someone else altogether. I bought Michael a chocolat-y chip frappucino at the end of the race all the same.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
How Today Started
Wake up, sleepy head
I think the sun's a little brighter today
Smile and watch the icicles melt away
and see the water rising
Summer's here to stay
And those sweet summer girls will dance forever
Go down to the shore, kick off your shoes, dive in the empty ocean.
I think the sun's a little brighter today
Smile and watch the icicles melt away
and see the water rising
Summer's here to stay
And those sweet summer girls will dance forever
Go down to the shore, kick off your shoes, dive in the empty ocean.
Tour de Mercer, Stage 2
This week and next, a group of about 30 of us are swimming around Mercer Island in 1.5 to 3 mile stages. We're raising money for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, while doing our favorite thing under the indulgent gaze of God and the occasional news helicopter.
Monday's Stage 1 was choppy and gray, as we swam 1.8 miles from the Mercerwood Shore Club to the dock at Mike Schaeffer and Connie Strope's house.
Liz and I stayed together (thanks to her patience with my wiggly swimming) and finished second among the women, we think, in the quest for the yellow thong(s).
Today the water was flat and the sky clear as we dove into stage 2, which is characteristically a choppy "mountain" stage since it spans the southern tip of the island and feels the brunt of the wind from the south. We swam a speedy 1.5 miles from the Schaeffer dock to the Beach Club.
I have not taken part in more than a stage or two of the Tour de Mercer in several years, but the rush of this event has made me wonder why.
Follow the story here: http://tourdemercer.freehostia.com/
My favorite things that have happened so far:
1. Sitting in the front seat of the Smershmobile with Sarah, Liz and Jim, while 25 others had to tough it out in the SRO back of the dump truck and everyone giving us hell for being female and cute.
2. Jim admitting he puts conditioner on his hair under his swim cap.
3. Liz swimming strong and pacing me perfectly.
4. Brendan holding me to my promise of shucking my wetsuit next week and being encouraging about it.
5. Seeing Don again.
6. Seeing Mike again.
7. Seeing the Transformers (?) balloon tied to Howard's leg in the distance in stage 1 and trying to catch him...without luck!
8. Rebecca's healthy elbow.
9. Kerry's inspirational stage 1 performance, hours before going in for chemo.
10. Anticipating the MI-5.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Spooky Swim
This morning, when Eric, Tatyana, Liz, Ruth, Joseph and I launched from Day Street Beach under I-90, the haze from last night's fireworks and our recent heatwave hung heavy. Our 3.2 mile goal post, the condo tower at Madison Park, was impossible to see.
We felt like extras in some apocalyptic B movie as we swam along the misty shoreline. The water, on the other hand, was buttery smooth and delicious.
We broke the swim into 1-mile sections, stopping just past the marina at Leschi, at Denny Blaine, and then home. The first mile was slow and sweet. Eric picked up the pace on mile two and I decided to hang on. By the time we started mile three, I was game not only to pace Eric but to try to put a little time into him, which I managed for awhile. We finished the swim together in about an hour and a half; not bad for the distance and the stops.
Today is Parents Day. Within minutes, mine, Mike's and our various siblings will be gracing my doorway, and shortly our nephews and niece will dazzle us with their best cannonballs in our backyard pool.
The haze has lifted. Life is good.
We felt like extras in some apocalyptic B movie as we swam along the misty shoreline. The water, on the other hand, was buttery smooth and delicious.
We broke the swim into 1-mile sections, stopping just past the marina at Leschi, at Denny Blaine, and then home. The first mile was slow and sweet. Eric picked up the pace on mile two and I decided to hang on. By the time we started mile three, I was game not only to pace Eric but to try to put a little time into him, which I managed for awhile. We finished the swim together in about an hour and a half; not bad for the distance and the stops.
Today is Parents Day. Within minutes, mine, Mike's and our various siblings will be gracing my doorway, and shortly our nephews and niece will dazzle us with their best cannonballs in our backyard pool.
The haze has lifted. Life is good.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Mountain Goat Moments
Today is the first day of the 2009 Tour de France.
On an earlier post, I think I proclaimed the three weeks of March Madness "the best time of the year other than the three weeks leading up to Christmas when you're five" but I'm realizing that was a silly thing to say.
Welcome back, Lance. Come on in and stay awhile. I can't wait to have you and your 179 best friends inhabiting my imagination and my living room for the next 21 days.
I will get mushy about the Tour in a later post, perhaps when the peleton hits the Pyrenees. Today, I want to talk about my ride.
Relatively speaking, it was short (longer than the Tour's stage 1 time trial today, however!). For good luck I used the cool new water bottle that Jan brought me back from her stellar performance at Ironman 70.3 Boise.I rode 1:35, just from home to Juanita Beach and back. I felt slow but surprisingly steady on the hard 9-minute climb up Juanita Hill. As I passed a bunch of fairly fit looking GUYS, I was reminded why I love hills. I also am about 5 pounds lighter than my usual July weight (fat is lighter than muscle) and I felt the difference today.
My knee hurt a great deal until it warmed up, but then it started easing off. I couldn't fathom dismounting straight into a run, however. I think that's going to hurt, but I need to try it a few times before the Danskin in mid August.
I ran 3 miles on the treadmill on Thursday.
The pieces are coming together, but I'm still a little nervous about lining them up back to back. I've got 5 weeks. I am still deciding whether or not to withdraw from the Elite wave...that clear, first wave water is hard to resist, but I admit to feeling like a poser.
It's important to me to keep the Danskin streak going. This will be number 12. I will finish even if it means walking to the finish line and being the category cellar dweller. Or maybe I'll be great. My fastest Danskin is 1:08. I hope to beat 1:20 this year.
On an earlier post, I think I proclaimed the three weeks of March Madness "the best time of the year other than the three weeks leading up to Christmas when you're five" but I'm realizing that was a silly thing to say.
Welcome back, Lance. Come on in and stay awhile. I can't wait to have you and your 179 best friends inhabiting my imagination and my living room for the next 21 days.
I will get mushy about the Tour in a later post, perhaps when the peleton hits the Pyrenees. Today, I want to talk about my ride.
Relatively speaking, it was short (longer than the Tour's stage 1 time trial today, however!). For good luck I used the cool new water bottle that Jan brought me back from her stellar performance at Ironman 70.3 Boise.I rode 1:35, just from home to Juanita Beach and back. I felt slow but surprisingly steady on the hard 9-minute climb up Juanita Hill. As I passed a bunch of fairly fit looking GUYS, I was reminded why I love hills. I also am about 5 pounds lighter than my usual July weight (fat is lighter than muscle) and I felt the difference today.
My knee hurt a great deal until it warmed up, but then it started easing off. I couldn't fathom dismounting straight into a run, however. I think that's going to hurt, but I need to try it a few times before the Danskin in mid August.
I ran 3 miles on the treadmill on Thursday.
The pieces are coming together, but I'm still a little nervous about lining them up back to back. I've got 5 weeks. I am still deciding whether or not to withdraw from the Elite wave...that clear, first wave water is hard to resist, but I admit to feeling like a poser.
It's important to me to keep the Danskin streak going. This will be number 12. I will finish even if it means walking to the finish line and being the category cellar dweller. Or maybe I'll be great. My fastest Danskin is 1:08. I hope to beat 1:20 this year.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
From Far and Wide, O Canada, We Stand on Guard for Thee
To say I have a complicated relationship with Canada would be an understatement. My parents were married there in 1954, and lived in Vancouver for five years while they waited for their number to come up so they could immigrate to America.
When I was a kid, we ran ragged on the beaches of Vancouver Island's West Coast...pitching tents on the sandy edge where the rainforest meets the ocean. Body surfing and falling in love in the way everyone does, just once, when they are 15. Turning white blond from the salt and the sun. Eating chocolate bars around the campfire that were not allowed into America because the FDA had some issue with the milk, but they tasted better than anything Hershey, PA could dream of cranking out.
At 23, I went to work for a Canadian company. That's when my real awareness of the nuances between Americans and Canadians began. Most days it's a blessing.
Someone gave me a book called "Why I Hate Canadians" last Christmas and weirdly it has made me love them more.
I think their national anthem is the most beautiful I know. I can sing it by heart. Out of tune, mind you, but by heart.
Comedian Kathleen Madigan says, "Canada is like your attic. You forget all about it, but once you spend some time there, you realize there's a lot of good stuff to see."
I don't know anyone in my (well-traveled, well-read, well-educated, well-bred) circle of American friends who has a hope of naming more than three or four Canadian provinces and territories, let alone all of them.
My second favorite vision of Canada is caught in the photo above.
It was snapped this morning at Sasamat Lake (also known as Nanchook! by those who hopped into the mermaidmobile at 5 am this morning at the Green Lake Park and Ride to journey to a swim race there). It is evergreen and brilliant blue and so very Canadian.
Conditions couldn't have been better...flat water, warm air and water temperature, no wind and terrific vibe, pre-race bagpipes notwithstanding.
Bob, Liz, Tatyana, Jeanne and I all posted solid performances. I swam the 4 K at 1:01.18...faster by about 20 seconds than my 2007 time and second in my age group. I rounded the first lap buoy at :30.47 and knew I'd need to raise my game to break an hour....I had more to dig for but didn't take it...I'm still too conservative on the longer distances but today was a good gauge of what I can do as I look ahead to the 3.2 mile Fat Salmon on 7/18.
Bob was 3rd overall and 2nd in his age group.
Liz finished a few minutes after I did in 5th in our division
Tatyana and Jeanne each won theirs.
We resisted wearing our "ribbons and rosettes" to lunch.
A gift to all of us was a very brief border wait and light traffic on the way home.
In the shower I noticed my abs hurt. I think it was from laughing so much today.
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