This coming Sunday I’m running a dinky little marathon in Goodyear, Arizona. It’s the IMS Marathon, and this is only the second year of the race (last year they scheduled it the same day as the Phoenix Rock ‘n Roll, so turnout was ridiculously low). I can think of no better way to celebrate Valentine’s Day than to drag my stubby legs 26.2 miles in the arid southwestern heat.
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For the third year in a row, I’m taking Teresa’s swim conditioning class. The first couple years I took the class, Teresa ran it solo. Class size varies from a few athletes total to about three per lane. When the class gets crowded, you could sometimes get away with less than perfect swim form if Teresa was on the other side of the pool analyzing your classmates. However, this year things have changed, making swim class much, much more difficult.
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Though the term is kind of douchy, I’d call myself an equal-opportunity “foodie.” Okay, more of a food lover, really. The word “foodie” has a pretentious air about it, while I’m content to eat just about anywhere so long as my meal is good. I love sketchy burrito joints just as much as $400 meals at Fleur de Lys, and street food is just as delicious as [insert fancy dish with truffles]. Every year I even make a pilgrimage to Taco Bell, stuff my face full of grade-E meat and experience instant regret and self loathing. It’s been a tradition of mine for years.
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Hello, loyal fans (all two of you)! It’s been a while, I know, but that’s what happens when actual work gets in the way of updating my hobby blog that doesn’t help pay my bills. Oh well. I’m back now, with a goal to keep this darn thing updated more often.
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Last week I spent five (ugh) days in Las Vegas for work. There’s a conference that rolls around every late fall that dumps me in Sin City just long enough for me to not want to return until the stale stench of cigarettes, perfume and gamblin’ stank finally dissipates from my clothes and suitcase. (Unfortunately, I’m heading back to Vegas in December for the Rock ‘n Roll Marathon and AGAIN in January for another conference. Kill me.) I didn’t even bother packing workout gear because I knew I was going to be obscenely busy all week and wouldn’t be able to squeeze in a run (and I figured the casino hotel would charge so much for gym access that I could conceivably purchase my own 24 Hour Fitness franchise). I had been working out fairly steadily the weeks leading to the conference, so I figured my health would be pretty good going into the event. Naturally, I was wrong.
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Good lord, this post is so belated that it’s probably not even worth publishing. Oh well, deal with it — I’m pretty sure Jason poisoned me with the lunch he made, so before I wither up and die I might as well share my recap of Ironman Canada 2009.
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I started doing Pilates (I know, I know) once a week and strength training once a week (throw in dry land and I’ve got 3 days of muscle flexin’ each week) for a pretty important reason (which I’ll get to in my next post, so stay tuned), and both my Pilates instructor and my strength trainer, Eli, keep barking the same order at me: “Remember to breathe. No, engage your core. No, your core.” Apparently, once you get serious about strength training and trying to be healthy, you have to learn how to breathe in a manner different than you have been accustomed to for the past 26 years. Who knew?
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Recently Jason and a number of my triathlon teammates raced Ironman Lake Stevens 70.3. I had been training for the race but decided at the last minute not to do it because I had traveled to San Francisco, Napa Valley and San Jose the week before and had too much booze and horrible food sloshing around my system to feel prepared to tackle a half Ironman. Nonetheless, I watched the race anyway to cheer on my friends and the BFG. A word of advice to any triathletes out there reading this: if you’re thinking of racing Ironman Lake Stevens, don’t.
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My friend Colleen sent me this video of a triathlon trainer talking about the negative experience he and some of his athletes had while practicing the course in Lake Placid:

Dude, if someone threw a tray of mustard at me while I was riding, I would freak the eff out and go apeshit on him. Then again, I can’t stand mustard, but still, that’s so not cool.

Jason and I signed up for the inaugural Seattle Rock ‘n Roll Marathon that’s happening this Saturday. We wanted to do the full but when we ran it by Teresa she gave us an “Are you serious” look and convinced us that tackling a marathon two weeks after doing a 70.3 isn’t the smartest idea we’ve had this year. We begrudgingly settled for the half, but after shredding my feet in Boise I’m thinking I made the right decision.
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