A couple weekends ago, Jason, his dad and I drove to Wenatchee to do a long ride through the hot and formidable canyons. We only managed to do about 50-60 before succumbing to the suckiness that is triple-digit heat waves. You suck, Wenatchee. Shove your applets and cotlets up your searingly hot ass.
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Much like Elaine’s boyfriend Puddy from Seinfeld, I picture this guy running around going, “We’re the devils! Eeeeehhhhh!”
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A week after the huge steaming dump known as Ironman Boise, Jas and I embarked to Mt. St. Helens for a “redemption ride,” as we affectionately referred to it. We signed up for the Tour de Blast, an 82 mile ride that consisted of climbing 41 miles up Mt. St. Helens and then turning around to fly back down it. We were all gung ho about making this ride our beeyotch after Boise’s wind gusts slapped us around. Unfortunately, for the second weekend in a row, things didn’t go according to plan.
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Last week I spent four nights in New York City, came home for a day, went to Penticton over Memorial Day weekend to train, came home for less than 24 hours, and flew to Denver (where I am right now) for work. Despite all of the jet setting, I managed to get in a decent training weekend. I have tasted Ironman Canada, and it tastes hilly and challenging.
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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.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted (traveling and work has keep me occupied), but I thought I’d finally introduce a new series I’ve been wanting to blog about for a while now. I’ve tentatively dubbed it “It Ain’t Easy Being a Triathlete,” but for brevity’s sake I’ll just call them “Triathlete Woes.” For my very first woe I thought I’d talk about something that, well, bugs me about training: the bugs.
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In part 2 of my three part bullshit series, I thought I’d talk about the bullshittiness that is biking. My trainer scheduled us for a 55 mile bike ride over the weekend, and since it was a sunny, lovely day on Saturday we decided to finally break free from the bike trainers and our stuffy, dark living room and allow our bicycles to touch actual pavement.
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On Sunday Jason and I did the Mt. Rainier Duathlon in Enumclaw. A bunch of our TN Multisport buddies had signed up for the race and were urging us to do the same. We had heard daunting things about the mighty duathlon course hill, so last week we decided to ride the bike route and see how formidable the hill would be.
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A couple weeks ago I was all gung-ho about making my triumphant return to working out (once you get to know me you’ll realize that I have a lot of “triumphant returns” to exercising). After my last race at the end of September, I took a couple months off to sit on my ass and get fat (I succeeded too!). I wanted to get back into serious training for the ‘09 season, so I started running, cycling, and killing my triceps in order to get all aggro about exercising again.
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