How the other half sweats

My trusty (and cheap!) gym at Columbia University is closed this week. It's not a catastrophe really; I only hit up the gym for my weekly yoga class and two weights sessions each week. While I have a plan for dealing with the yoga -- take a short break and then start taking lessons at my instructor's house -- I was forced to come up with a different solution for the weight lifting sessions.

Fortunately, I had a couple one-week trial memberships to two of the fancier gyms in the city. I managed to lose the one for Equinox but I had safely stashed the one for the Reebok Sports Center in my wallet months ago. (It came out of my NYCC century ride registration packet.) I dug it out, called the number on the card and set up an appointment for yesterday after work.

I anticipated a full dog and poney show and a pretty aggressive appeal to join, but it was fairly low key. They just gave me a pass, a map of all six floors (!!) and a schedule for the 150+ weekly classes. Oh, and they did give me an additional paper with membership prices on it. The monthly membership (just under $200) is a little more than I pay for a full school year of access to Columbia's gym. I actually thought it would be worse, but it turns out the real kicker is the "initiation fee". I can't help but think of the cost of joining some exclusive frat or sorority in college when I think of this gym. We're talking $1200 -- for the priviledge of joining!!

There's no denying the gym is beautiful and insanely spatious, however. I'm always intimidated by the trappings of wealth, but I was so ridiculously uncomfortable in this place. I took the elevator to the sixth floor and started working my way down till I found the equipment I needed. It ended up being a room the size of all the three tiny rooms at Columbia in one (and mind you this was repeated on several floors).

There were probably no more than 6 people in the room when I walked in and all of them were men. Worse yet, I swear they were all staring at me. Since this is getting long, I'll relate my experience with the staring folks later. For now, let me just say this gym is ludicrous and I'm not going to let these rich folk intimidate me out of making good use of my free week there.

And on the theme of saying good things about my workouts, I busted that training goal of leg pressing 130 lbs. My glutes are crazy sore today, but the satisfaction of having lifted 160 lbs lives on!

The holidays are taking a toll

I'm going to take a minute here just to whine a little. It's great to have lots of fun things to do during the holidays -- people to see, parties to attend, family to visit -- but it's really cramping my triathlon style and it's definitely killing my blog.

I spent this past weekend in my hometown with my parents. The holiday weekend fell over the end of my "prep" period, requiring 8.5 hrs of training a week, and the beginning of my "base 1" period, which requires 10 hrs of training. Meanwhile, there's not a pool or a bike trainer in sight. So I resigned myself to running. I actually ran roughly 16.5 miles that weekend and I can say with utter certainty that it sucked.

My body still hates to run, and running sans rest days does NOT help. My parents also live on top of one long, steep hill which ends each run in utter agony. If I were in a positive mood I'd refer to this hill as "icing on the cake", but I'm more inclined at the moment to describe it as hell.

Ok, whining done. The upside is, I'm still getting the hours of training in, even if I'm not really getting the blog posts done.

These shorts were made for riding, and that's just what the'll do

Yesterday as I spinned my way through another bike workout, I noticed how uncomfortable my bike seat was. My bike seat hasn't really bugged me much in the past (minus the occasional saddle sores, which I probably should not discuss publicly), so I'm guessing this was the inevitable sign that my padded cycling shorts are getting worn out. That little shammy just doesn't have the fluffy tenderness it once did, sadly.

This got me to thinking...how many miles have these shorts travelled?? Well, this is going to sound insane, but when I had to replace my chain late last summer, I calculated that I'd put over 2000 miles on my bike since it was purchased in Feb of 2005. I bought my shorts the same day I bought the bike and I've worn them for every single ride minus my actual races. Since the chain was swapped out, I've logged many more miles. I don't care to count the actual number cause I really don't like to think I've been wearing anything so close to my body for thousands of miles.

I'm a little disturbed frankly...and I need some new shorts...

Why yoga counts

I'm now in the middle of the third week on my training plan, and so far, so good. In commencing my official training, I did face a few moral conundrums that my bible couldn't answer. None were more challenging than whether yoga class should count toward my weekly training hours.

After collecting the applicable evidence (namely the ability of my weekly Iyengar class to make me sore after each and every class) I decided that yes, indeed, for this triathlete, yoga counts. Besides, I thought this soul-searching wasn't worth agonizing over for too long given that I only had two weeks of yoga class left when my training began. Of course, now my yoga instructor has invited me to lessons at her house (presumably because she recognizes the yogi inside me -- or at least that's what I tell myself).

Regardless, I'm pretty sure I'm going to continue to count yoga time as training time. Any time you are levitating off the ground while simultaneously placing your knee behind your shoulder, that should count for something! Here's a picture of the pose we were attempting in our last class, called Eka Hasta Bhujasana. I can't claim that my pose looked exactly like the picture, but I can certainly attest to the stiffness in my arms and hips yesterday. Other pain inducers included bhujapidasana (saying that one is about as difficult as performing it) and paripurna navasana.

That class was about as tough as my first-ever 75 min run on Sunday. Yes, strike up the band -- I ran for 75 relatively pain-free minutes this past weekend. But back to my point -- yoga is hardcore and it counts, dammit!

The other weight training

Numbers, numbers, numbers. Training for a triathlon is full of numbers. Goals, targets, zones, distances, paces and now, weight and percent body fat. I started this by deciding that I had to weigh 135 lbs in order to run as fast as I want to. That's not a dramatic a weight loss for me -- about 7 pounds. Given that I've lost about 10 pounds from when all this triathlon madness began, that doesn't seem so tough, right??

But nothing is ever easy and isn't each pound supposed to be harder than the last? Not to mention, skinny just isn't in my genes. When I look around my family I see exactly zero people you'd be tempted to call "skinny" and quite a few you'd call, to avoid more negative terms, "big-boned". And yet, taking the fatalistic view and just giving up seems like a cop out.

So recently I took a body composition test during a "health fair" at work. The nice lady told me that 26% of my body mass is fat. Mmm mmm. Turns out body composition is a popular test among triathletes, but all the other female tri bloggers seem to be in the teens! I can't even imagine what I'd look like at 15% body fat. I would certainly not look like the person I think of as me, and I rather like me.

So what is my aspiration? To run fast. To be low risk for injuries. And to be the curviest fast girl out on the course!

Beyond training

Yesterday morning I woke up at 6:15 a.m. to go for a swim. The girlfriend and I stepped out the door in the pitch black and were hit by some of the first really cold air of the season. Even though I knew I wouldn't, I had a strong desire to climb back into that warm bed with the fluffy down comforter just calling my name.

When we turned the corner, however, I looked straight down the street to see a gigantic full moon across the Hudson slowly sinking into the lights of New Jersey. I was completely mesmerized by that sight - and it only got better as the George Washington Bridge, all lit up, came into view.

Not to be all nostalgic, but I would never had gotten that amazing glimpse if it wasn't for my silly obsession with this activity -- lord knows I would certainly have been in bed yesterday at 6:15.

The same has certainly been true of biking. Anyone who really wants to be intoxicated by the idea of the size and grandeur of Manhattan needs to see it from the George Washington Bridge the day after a major rain storm has cleaned all the smog and haze out of the air. The gray buildings stand in amazing relief against a blue sky decorated with innocent, puffy clouds. And yet, I have not a single picture of these things to share with you. I guess you'll just have to venture out there on your own!

More equipment failure

While this equipment failure isn't nearly as outrageous as my bike gloves, I still find it noteworthy. Perhaps rules of etiquette dictate that one should not put a picture of one's used sports bra on a web site for the world to see. But, all rules were meant to be broken.

So this picture is basically just the back of my extremely tired and worn out Moving Comfort Fiona Bra. I put a lot of miles on this thing, so I am certainly not disappointed in its performance. Yes, that unusual color on the clasps is rust. That's what happens when you swim repeatedly in salt water in a bra with metal clasps. And if you're eyes are extremely well trained (sorry the picture's a little blurry but I didn't have the patience to take another) you'll notice the bottom bracket is broken. I think I can safely say I used this thing to the end of its life.

While the title of this post is "equipment failure", I can't help but say that this bra is a miracle. I had resorted to always wearing three "sports" bras for running when I met this beauty. The fact that it was introduced to me by a salesMAN in the Boulder Fleet Feet, is no less miraculous.

The angst I hold in this case is for the stores of New York City. This bra is already expensive - $40 - without having to pay for shipping after ordering it online. I couldn't find this bra after questioning countless salesman in sporting goods and running stores. Not one of the buyers for these stores seem to think that women with anything over a B cup like to run. In a city large enough to find a market for just about every hair-brained product ever created, something so simple as a sports bra for C and D cup women is impossible to find??

Ok, I feel better now...

Blogger Beta makes me happy

Today is the first day of my new training plan -- on my way to half-ironman glory, starting with one swim early this morning. Now that I'm in full on workout mode again, I figured this would be a great time to start a TriFuel account and start logging my workouts. There appear to be some cool features here and it makes it easy for me to share my workouts.

In the midst of trying to find my "public" domain, I found out that the site automatically creates an RSS feed of your log when you enable sharing. While I found this quite cool, I was a little hesitant to launch into adding the feed to my blog, but I decided to give it a whirl. I'm not a super technical person -- setting up that list of races you see down the side of my blog took me at least a half hour with Blogger. With Blogger Beta, adding the beautiful feed of my workouts that you now see under my profile took -- drum roll please -- 2 minutes!

I love you blogger beta. You and I are going to have a great relationship. I can tell. If only everything was this easy.

You want how much of my money??

Now that half the races I was considering doing next summer are already sold out, I decided to look through my remaining options last night. I have a few criteria that are turning out to be mighty restrictive: (1) a half-ironman race relatively close by, (2) an olympic and maybe a sprint that I don't need to rent a car and get a hotel room to race, (3) all races take place in May and June.

Each year, I've done one triathlon (two Olympic distance races). The more I've read up on triathlon, the more I realize, this is not what other people do. It's like putting all your eggs in one basket. One thing goes wrong and you feel utterly deflated. All that training only to get a flat tire or just get too nervous and not pull through. I figured this summer, I'd be smart, I'd do a few races. That possibility, however, is getting decidedly slimmer all the time and it's making me a little depressed.

First of all, who knows their schedule this far in advance?? My girlfriend is graduating this coming May but her college hasn't even scheduled their commencement ceremony yet. I know roughly when it is, but two of the races I'm considering fall in the "danger zone". Her sister in CA is also going to be getting married some time this spring -- likely May or June. That's not scheduled yet either.

Secondly, who can afford all these races?? After all the other gear costs of triathlon and race entries you have travelling to and from races, shipping equipment and finding lodging. That's why the races I've done in the past have been close enough to my home to avoid having to get a hotel. I love this sport, but I refuse to spend all my money on it. Where's the poor, aspiring triathlete scholarship?!

Now that I'm done griping, here are the races I'm looking at: The Mooseman Half Ironman, Harriman State Park Tri (half or olympic), the New Jersey Devilman, and the Tupper Lake Tinman. All but the Harriman race would require overnight lodging and rental cars, most likely. What a bummer. The New York City Tri is a great race precisely because it's smack dab in the city -- why are there not more urban landscape races? Why, oh why?

The Evolution of a Workout

1o:00 p.m. yesterday Decide I'm going to swim in the morning. Set the alarm clock and go to bed

6:15 a.m. today Alarm goes off. I tell the girlfriend to hit the snooze.

6:25 a.m. Alarm goes off again. I tell the girlfriend I'm tired. She puts up a big fight by yawning and saying "okay" as she resets the alarm for 7:00 a.m.

7:00 a.m. Alarm goes off again. Girlfriend turns it off and promptly wiggles further under the covers.

7:23 a.m. I realize we are still in bed and force myself to get up and into the shower. While in the shower I rationalize my missed workout by deciding to go to the gym or for a run after work. I decide I need the cardio exercise more than the lifting and tell myself I'll run.

8:15 a.m. Pack a bag with running clothes for the gym in case the weather is bad. This way, I won't find myself looking out the window of my office at 5 p.m. and deciding that it's too awful out to run when I get home and too late to go home, get clothes and go back to the gym.

6:00 p.m. Decide the weather is good enough to run outside, but man, it's dark out. Am I really sure about going for a run tonight??

6:45 p.m. I go for a run! Given that it's dark out, and I believe in taking every precaution when running in the dark - especially since I live in the north end of Manhattan, I run over to Riverbank State Park where there's a track with tons of stadium lighting, lots of people and security guards. On my way over this evening, I happen to notice a lot of police milling about and a few squad cars pull into the park as I'm making my way over from Riverside Drive. More and more officers everywhere and I start to get worried that something has happened at the park. As I walk by the lit up gymnasium I peek inside to see the band warming up for the Police Academy graduation! I think this run will be quite safe, thank you.

8:00 p.m. Fully exercised and stretched out, I sit and tap away at the laptop as the best girlfriend in the world cooks my dinner.

Thank god every workout isn't this hard!

On another note, I revisited my training plan recently. I haven't paid it much mind since I'm not actually on it till Nov 27, but when taking a peak, I noticed that I promised I'd write at least two positive things about my training each week in my blog. Since I'm training for training in all my other sports, I'll get some practice in on this front as well.

Positive statement: I used to be plagued with side cramps during my runs. I'd have to stop and walk it off probably 1 out of every 3 runs. I've had positively no stomach/side discomfort on a single run since I started back up. I have my physical therapist to thank for this new miracle!

Out of town guests and marathons

The girlfriend and I had out of town guests visiting for nearly a week recently, meaning my workout schedule has been light to nonexistant. Despite no workouts, each night they were here I dragged myself into bed, thoroughly exhausted. Why is it that ushering around out of town visitors doesn't count toward my training?!

Aside from pure exhaustion, other symptoms included an insatiable appetite. We managed to eat our way through the entire city, from Brooklyn pizza to Chinatown dim sum. At the very least, this must have been Zone 1 endurance work, right? (Note: This is a rhetorical question not intended to illicit an actual response.)

We checked out part of the New York Marathon while our visitors were here...one of my favorite NYC events. There's nothing quite like the thousands upon thousands of bobbing heads pounding down the pavement in an unending sea.

Every year, I feel completely inspired watching that race. This year I'm under the delusion that I'll join NYRR and do enough races to get into the 2008 marathon. For training, I'll follow a regular regiment of out of town guests and overeating. I'm already on the path to marathon glory!

Revelations of the triathlon variety

As I try to avoid obsessively checking cnn.com for election results, I turn to my beleaguered blog. Time has been tight with some out of town guests visiting, but I assure you that I return refreshed!

For tonight's post I've tapped a guest blogger. Initially I hoped that inviting a guest would mean loads of praise for my superb guidance, sage advice and exemplary status as a role model. Those hopes were sadly crushed, but the entertainment value of this advice from first-timer "B to the Wizzo" is quite high.

In taking on my first triathlon last month - a sprint at Lake Anna in Virginia - there were indeed many lessons I learned the hard way. Certainly you can train, study, solicit the advice of erudite triathlon elders, but until you actually compete in one, it's all just theory, right? Ever the sympathizer, Rocinante Always Wins requisitioned a guest blog entry detailing the harsh realities facing the rookie triathlete (and there are many):

1. At least buy me a drink first
Was it wrong for me to feel strangely violated and used by the curt volunteer in charge of inking my race number onto my arms and legs? Here it is, 7 o'clock in the morning, I've stood in line to strip in front of this woman and all I get is "Number? ... Age group? ... Turn around. ... Done." I think that's how they run triathlons in prison.

2. You know you're a little too serious when...
As I was sitting in my car before the race, rocking out to AC/DC, I watched some dude with OCD take for-ev-er making the tiniest, most inconsequential adjustments to his and his (apparent) girlfriend's bikes. Does it really take 20 minutes to get your race number in ex-act-ly the right spot? Do you really require four water bottles each (measured and filled with an ultra-precise mix of Gatorade and water, probably Perrier) for a sprint? How many times do you need to check the brakes and wheels on your $3,000 tri bikes, seriously?

Watching him throughout this excruciating process, my girlfriend Jessica asked me, "How come you're not doing all that?"

"My bike's going to work the same as it did yesterday," I said, then got an eye roll as I turned up the volume on "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution".

3. Wetsuits: Friends of the modest
Look, I swam for many years as a youngster, so I am well familiar with the concept and workings of a Speedo. I can appreciate its hydrodynamic fit and, in a triathlon, the advantages wearing one must offer when it comes to making a quick transition to the bike. What I don't need is to find myself at the starting line right behind some "plumber butt". Drawstrings, my wide-bottomed friend, drawstrings!

I also tracked down Jessica so I could tell her to check out the voluptuous "moobs" on a nearby Clydesdale-class competitor. Another eye roll: "Grow up."

4. Full-contact freestyle
I was confident of (or, resigned to) the fact that the swim would be the best leg of my race by far and was even prepared for some gentle nudging and jostling at the start.

Not quite. The first 300 meters was like a nature video on Amazonian piranha. All I could see were whirlpools of churning water between the violent bludgeoning of kicks and elbows. In vain did I search for my plumber-butted guide amidst it all. Worse, I expended so much energy trying to fight through the pack that when I found myself swimming alone at the halfway point, I couldn't really get a strong pace going, and my time was ultimately more than three minutes slower than it was in the pool. So fine, I'll trade a little extra distance for calm water: Next time, I'll be way out there on the right, next to the guys with inflatable water wings."

5. Should have ridden my Big Wheel
It would have been just as fast as my biking performance, and more comfortable. I'd read somewhere that if there was any leg of the race that could withstand some neglect during the training program, it was the bike. Why? Bike training, this article reasoned, requires a disproportionately large commitment in order to realize any significant improvement, and in a sprint tri, you're not going to benefit much from what will ultimately be a negligible time difference.

I don't recall the author of said article, but when I do, that dangerously unqualified dispenser of crappy advice will be on my hit list. My little Trek road bike and its platform pedals certainly wasn't to blame as men - and yes, women - with thighs bigger than my head zoomed past me on their whirring flying-saucer wheels. No, I was feeling the burn and cursing the day I found that stupid article. From now on, Mistress Bicycle shall command equal time.

6. Can I get a crazy straw with that?
Perhaps partly as a result of my negligence vis-a-vis an embarrassing lack of bike preparation, it took me a good half-mile to get a decent pace going on the run, but that wasn't the most disappointing part. I learned it requires an acrobatic feat of dexterity to grab a cup of water and drink it while running. After three failures in three attempts (splashing my face, shirt and an increasingly irritated competitor five feet behind me), I made the executive decision to just carry a sippy cup with me in my next race.

7. The perfect meal
With apologies to everyone across the northern swath of the U.S. who doesn't have the privilege of living within striking distance of a Waffle House, I declare this chain of sublimely greased breakfast food is a post-race destination beyond compare. I even ran into one of my fellow racers there - perhaps in his early 50s - who had a bit of introspective wisdom to impart before turning his attention to a plateful of hash browns.

"How'd you do this morning?" I asked him.

"Well," he said, "I didn't win, and I didn't puke."

The man was a philosopher. I reciprocated by acknowledging that I too had neither won nor puked, and perhaps, in that moment, truly became a triathlete.

Well said, B to the Wizzo, well said.

My Halloween costume

Last night, as little ghosts and ghouls hit up the stores in my neighborhood for sweets, I was rocking my fab Halloween costume in the gym. Okay, so maybe I can't really call my workout clothes a costume. I can't help but wonder if my dedication has reached some new obsessive level. Recently I've also been trying to convince the girlfriend that we should do a 5k in Central Park at midnight on New Year's, which incidentally, is also my birthday.

Before I started getting too worried about my addiction to triathlon last night, I looked around the gym at all the other obsessives. I was working out at the Columbia University gym, so I definitely expected it to be totally empty. Instead, it was packed! Well, not as packed as I've seen it before, but I had to wait to get on almost every machine.

On another note, for anyone worried about my inability to get out of bed, have no fear, I've risen to the challenge! I've been yanking myself out of bed early a few times a week now -- and I'm not even on my training plan yet.

Counting on daylight's saving

Since my last post I have failed twice to answer the call of the alarm clock. Apparently public embarrassment is not sufficiently motivating. Each morning the alarm goes off I lie in bed thinking, "what am I going to do at the pool anyway?" So this morning, I'm prowling the web for swim workouts.

I get way too bored in the pool these days so I'm hoping to spice it up by having a series of workouts and also adding in some non freestyle. Butterfly work would probably only do me good!

Swimming World has a searchable database of workouts, so I might start there. The 30-min "Stay fit" and 60 min "Remember swimming is fun" workouts sound like they should be right up my alley. If that fails, perhaps I'll turn to about.com. If all goes as planned, soon I'll be reporting that I ran 3 times this week, lifted twice and yes, even got up to go swimming a few times.

The hardest part of swimming - getting out of bed

After my epic 5.85 mile swim, I decided to lay off the swimming for a while, a much deserved break I felt. Conveniently, my pool of choice, Riverbank State Park, was also closed for maintenance all of September. After it reopened, however, my "vacation" from the pool turned into a big ol' source of guilt. I put off the return till after the big biking weekend, but still, the guilt plagued me!

Finally this morning, I made my proud return to the pool, despite having to drag myself (and the girlfriend!) out of bed long before sunrise. The swim itself was not particularly noteworthy. As with all my first swims after a long break, my arms felt ready to fall off. It's amazing how all that lifting makes not one lick of difference when it comes to that first swim.

But that's not important! I got up -- that's what matters. And I'm throwing down the gauntlet by publicly declaring that I'm going to swim tomorrow morning as well. I'm hoping the public declaration -- and fear of humiliation -- will pull me out of bed tomorrow at 6:30. Here's to the experiment...

My new lucky number: 175

That's right, the girlfriend and I each rode 175 miles this weekend. And to think, it was all a big accident! If I had told her that we should do a century ride and a 60 mile tour (that ended up being 75) on the same weekend, all I would have gotten was a dirty look. I thought it was pure insanity too, but after a little thought -- and with the registrations already paid -- it seemed like a brilliant challenge!

Mind you, this was my first century ride ever. Despite the fact that my eyes were bloodshot and I opted for the subway over riding back from the finish on Sunday, I felt like a modern day, real world Super Woman.

My bike may be "cheap" by road bike standards, but Rocinante and I have officially gone the distance. Just as I was sentimental about the junker mini van I learned to drive on, Rocinante will always hold a special place in my heart, long after I've run him completely into the ground.

Out of pure curiosity I had to figure out how far 175 miles could take me if I'd ridden them straight. In fact, the distance from NYC to Boston is not much further. My muscles may be stiff and sore, and my rear my have suffered irreversible damage, but the pain only deepens the sense of accomplishment. Nothing like extreme discomfort to let you know that you're definitely alive!

My new favorite website: MyBikeLane.com

Car parked in the bike lane, forcing you to swerve into traffic? Take a picture of it, note the license plate and add it to MyBikeLane.com. I love this idea...my focus on riding over the past year has forced me out into the streets of New York where it's an every road user for himself free for all. When you're up against huge trucks and erratic cars and taxis, it's no secret that the cyclist has to be on constant alert.

The answer: take the bike lane, right? I try to take the bike lanes wherever possible, but more often than not, cars just see this as extra parking space in NYC. Of late, I've taken to 'reminding' people that they are in fact in the bike lane, not a parking spot as I cruise by. From the 125th St stop on the Metro North to my apartment in West Harlem I probably reprimanded about 20 cars parked in the St. Nicholas bike lane.

This site is probably going to be my new best friend. Makes me wish I had a camera phone!

It never ends

This is my cycling glove. I know, I know -- it's not pretty. It looks like I either (a) got in a big fight with a very nasty dog, (b) crashed and skidded on my palms, (c) got ravenously hungry while on a ride one afternoon or (d) all of the above.

As it turns out, none of the above is the correct answer. This, it would seem, is normal wear and tear. I can't help feeling a little outraged here. These gloves cost me $35 -- more than I have ever paid for a pair of gloves in my life, much less ones with no fingers and a general lack of warmth for the wearer's digits. I might add that these gloves were Pearl Izumi's. That is a reputable maker of cycling gear! I have no bones with my $60 Pearl Izumin shorts. They have (more or less) saved my tuckus from much pain and grief. But these gloves raise my ire.

I bought them no earlier than April of this year. April!!

Someone please tell me that I've been doing something horribly wrong to my gloves and that yes, they should last longer than this. The REI gloves I had previously certainly lasted no longer, but I'm pretty sure they cost $15.

Just when I thought the list of gear was getting shorter -- that my endless outlay of funds to feed my triathlon habit would soon ease up -- my gear starts to wear out! There's no justice.

Fall was made for cycling

There are many reasons to love fall, particularly when living on the east coast...fresh apples, apple pie, apple cider, hot apple cider(is there a trend here?), pumpkin patches, pumpkin pie, fresh corn, vibrant colored forests, turning off the AC, no more sweat dripping down my back while waiting for the subway...and I'll just spare you the rest, but believe me, the list continues.

Added to the list of reasons to adore fall -- the most awesome, beautiful riding weather in a fall wonderland of reds, yellows and oranges.

The girlfriend and I rode up to Cold Spring through Harriman State Park and past Bear Mountain. What a day! It was the kind of ride that just permanently marks your face with a smile -- it was challenging, breath-takingly beautiful and just, plain fun. After all those hills I feel like super woman walking down the street. "Yes, you are in the presence of a total bad-ass and don't even know it," I thought to myself while riding the train down to yoga class at Columbia University.

If only the fall could last forever!!

Where it all began

I just submitted the following in my application to be a sponsored triathlete at raceathlete.com. I was so proud, I had to repost. I can't really imagine that I'll be selected. If I were picking the athletes, I'd probably go for the cancer survivor and the couch potato turned Ironman over myself, but what the hell...why not try!

After spending four years at college during which I was always on the go, settling into the working world was no small feat. Every day, I would go to work, sit at my desk and stare at my computer. I could feel my behind widening -- evolving to fit it's new use of permanent perch -- and my mental state began to deteriorate. Fortunately, I was living in Colorado at the time, so it wasn't long before I found a goal - a means to give myself that physical challenge I'd been starving for.

The Boulder Peak!

For someone who'd publicly sworn to loathe running for all eternity, this required some backpedaling, but earning the title of "triathlete" would be worth the temporary loss of face. So I bought my first road bike for $450, a pair of $80 running shoes and some really great sports bras and I began to train, one 5 minute running interval at a time.

Several months, one diagnosis of patellofemoral syndrome, and a much firmer, happier behind later - I climbed my way up Old Stage Rode and, eventually, across the finish line.

And that was all it took. The addiction had taken hold.

Since then, I've moved to New York City, joined a cycling club, an open water swimming group and volunteered to be a workout leader for the first NYC Danskin Team in Training. I've also done a 5.85 mile swim in the Hudson, several bike tours and, most proudly, completed the New York City Triathlon having shaved over 30 minutes off my Boulder Peak time.

And I still have that $450 bike.

I would love to have more resources (ie better equipment) to feed my addiction, but I know, either way, I'm going to stick with it. I've managed to balance a career in environmental non-profit work with tri training thus far. I know I'll continue to maintain that balance because I'm determined to do so, and when I'm determined, nothing is going to stop me.

Beautiful, tough ride

The girlfriend and I paid my parents a visit this past weekend up in the Finger Lakes region of New York, taking our bikes with us. The ride was beautiful, though the weather was decidedly less so. The first hour sped by with an average cruising speed of over 20mph! We were passing those tractors and buggies (horse and buggy is as common a means of transit as car on some of the roads up here) left and right!

As soon as we turned onto Route 14, which traces the west side of Seneca Lake, things got a bit more challenging.

20 mph gusts of wind blowing due north and bikes pointing due south on a slight incline, does not a happy joy ride make. And then it had to get a little worse, with a slight, constant drizzle beating down on us. Suddenly, the 20mph speed plummeted to 12 or 13. Fortunately, we were able to make some pit stops at a few wineries along the way. The wine tastings added some much needed warmth to our ride!

Note to self: check the weather before deciding to go for an "easy" ride.

Sick time = planning time

I've been sick over the past few days. That means there is little to report in the training/ physical recreation arena, aside from a very miserable run on Sunday. It was pretty clear that something was seriously amiss since my heartrate was barely approaching 160 and I felt like I was going to keel over and die.

In between time spent supine on the bed and soaking stiff muscles in the tub, I did some playing with google's spreadsheet application. Pretty cool stuff! I went ahead and uploaded my shiny, new annual training plan. The original spreadsheet I snagged from Joe Friel's site. I had to update the dates and then do a little formatting magic in google, but now my beautiful plan is up and ready for action. Now I just have to follow it!

Heather, over at Funnymoods, has drawn my attention to another logging tool at TriFuel. I'll start entering individual sessions in it once I actually starting swimming, biking or running again!

Lincoln Tunnel look out -- Rocinante is coming!

So the girlfriend and I signed up for the MS Bike Tour on Oct. 15. We'll be doing the 60 mile ride, which looks like a pretty stellar route. The deciding factor for me was the chance to ride through the Lincoln Tunnel! Now that's pretty cool. I'm sure I'll be cruising through it faster on my bike than the last time I tried driving through it -- an experience that falls somewhere between getting stuck in Detroit for 2 days on my way back from Christmas with the family in 2004 and one epic 1.5 hr subway ride to work this winter.

Of course, the ride also gives me an opportunity to raise money for a great cause. The MS Society does some amazing work and you can help them continue doing that work by donating. Help me meet my pretty modest fundraising goal!

Bar with a view

This is tangentially related to tri training, but given my propensity to mix working out with booze, I couldn't resist mentioning a visit to my new favorite Manhattan bar. The Hotel QT sports a bar with a pool -- a pool with a swim up window to the bar!

If only the pool was lap-swim size -- I could grab a drink after a set for my "active" recovery. Just kidding, I would never do anything so decadent, especially at these drink prices.

Aside from any aspirations to mix swimming and drinking, the bar is related to the sport of tri because I was there to commemorate the recent victories of New York's Team Danskin Training. I didn't get to see all the ladies cross the finish line, but I'd been helping lead workouts since mid-July, so it was gratifying to hear all their race day stories. What an inspiring and eclectic group of women! With a wide range of ages, body types, incomes, and professions among them, they certainly prove that the title of triathlete is worn by an astoundingly diverse bunch of women.

In fact -- getting back to my new favorite bar -- one of the women was an accomplished synchronized swimmer in her former life. Talk about party tricks! From behind the bar (on the 'dry' side), I watched as her leg emerged from the water with a wine glass daintily held between her toes!

Only girl in the weight room

Eventhough I'm still several weeks from diving into full training mode for my spring races, I decided to ease myself back into weight training last week with a new routine copied word-for-word from the Triathlete's Training Bible.

I've done most of the exercises plenty of times before, and in fact, did them in the Columbia University gym - my wallet's gym of choice - last year. Otherwise meaning that I've found all the necessary machines, know how they work and won't commit any embarrassing faux pas, with one notable exception...the squat.

Now, I've been visiting weight rooms since I was 14 and I don't let myself get easily intimidated by the grunting, sweaty male population camped out in them. But the squat - that's another matter entirely.

First of all, it's a very compromising position, made only worse by the fact that you're forced to perform it in front of a full length mirror. Secondly, this is the lift that all the super huge boys love and it takes up a lot of space in the weight room. Ultimately this means that there's always a wait for one of the two squat stations. I can feel their eyes boring into my head as I struggle to get off the six 45 lb plates that the last dude left on the barbell. I can sense their impatience as they watch me struggle through three sets of 20.

To ease the tension of the situation I try friendliness on the burly weight room enthusiasts. I ask them to alternate sets with me so they don't have to wait as long. They look at me with such shock you'd think I wasn't speaking their native tongue. Then they proceed to do sets of five reps and make the hurry up face if I don't rush back into my next set. I'm doing 20 reps for crying out loud!! You just spent less than 30 seconds. Sigh.

Here's where I lament the fact that women stay as far away from free weights as possible. I'm trying to blaze the trail here, but every time I turn around the ladies are still smiling and waving from a safe distance, stationed behind their elliptical machines and treadmills.

So I'm left squatting, trading sets with dudes like this. My only solace is my ability to laugh at the many (not all!) self-important, over juiced guys who actually think they look good in this position! My goal, aside from improving my bike and run force, is to leave them wondering what is with the blonde pigtailed chick walking around the weight room softly chuckling to herself.

New York moments

After days of hobbling precipitated by my first visit to the weight room in months, I went on a fairly short, light run this afternoon. The sky had that beautiful blue that you only see in NYC after it's been raining for several days straight. I think of the air around here as a big sponge that gets coated with brown smoggy soot till it gets completely soaked and wrung dry with a giant rain storm. Unfortunately, there are no such cleansing rain storms for my lungs, so I can only imagine what the brown air is doing to them! But, I digress...

It was the perfect day for my first run in over a week. I strapped on the HR monitor to keep my ego from pushing me too hard, and pranced down Riverside just letting my mind wander.

When I saw a boy sitting in the grass park behind the Grant Monument playing his trombone, I couldn't help but smile. This is another one of those "only in New York City" moments that seem to happen so often when I'm out running or on my bike, or even at the pool. Now I've seen people playing instruments outdoors before (I was in marching band for years), but this was a particularly amusing set up. He was sprawled out in the grass -- clearly not a serious musician -- but had taken the time to lug a music stand out there with him and was playing off sheet music. On my way back up Riverside he was no longer playing, but rather sitting in the grass flipping through his music while smoking a cigarette and listening to his ipod.

For the rest of my run I thought of all the people and places I've encountered simply through training for a triathlon. Training for a race has been an amazing way for me to become acquainted with this crazy, huge city and make it my home. The breadth and scope of this place is amazing and as long as I keep training, I'll keep finding more reasons to love and respect it.

My toes are sore

It's a widely known fact that nearly all women's shoes are torture devices. Personally, I tend to stick to the Dansko clogs, but occasionally I try to fool myself into believing that I too can wear the latest, greatest fashion. So I set out, buy some fancy shoes and a few hours into them I find myself begging for my clogs.

I have some uncomfortable shoes in my arsenal, but these shoes are by far the most binding, tear-inducing mothers I own. And I paid top dollar for these puppies! I know climbing shoes aren't made for a leisurely walk in the park, but these suckers only stop hurting when my mind is too engaged in survival to notice pain.

As with any shoe that I've paid over $50 for, however, I feel guilty as hell when I'm not getting my money's worth out of them. I bought these climbing shoes in Nov. '04 and have worn them exactly once...that is, until tonight!

Kate and I checked out the most affordable climbing wall in the city, the 59th street gym, and set out to give all those little muscles and tendons in our hands and feet a little exercise. I'm happy to call that endeavor a big success. I'm not sure my fingers will be up to the task of typing tomorrow, so I'm getting all my keystrokes in now!

Here's what an off-season ride looks like

Ah, the off-season. It was a beautiful day for a little "adventure" ride to the beach. The girlfriend (Kate) and I set out this morning (or more accurately, afternoon) with a bike map of the city, some PB&Js and beach towels.

One flat tire (mine) and several wrong turns later we found ourselves at Orchard Beach in the Bronx. I'm not sure if this place is a hopping location in the heat of the summer, but it definitely had a sleepy, slightly abandoned feel this afternoon. But not so sleepy that we couldn't find a beer to wash down those PB&Js!

After all the rainy weekends, this sunny, slightly cool weekend was exactly what the doctor ordered. I spent yesterday on the beach as well, helping the Danskin tri ladies finish their trial run at Sandy Hook. The sun and wind left me sleepy and content at the end of the day, even if my swim was barely long enough to get the blood flowing, most of my time on the bike was spent standing in place playing traffic cop and the run was over in less than 15 min.

I'm adding another gratutious photo of me getting sassy on the beach cause I think it'll make a fine shot for my profile. Despite the beer, sand in my socks and sun exhaustion, the ride back went much faster than the ride out to the beach. It's amazing how much time you save by actually knowing where you're going! Who would'a thought...

Another Endurance Sport

If my parents are to be trusted, I've been swimming longer than I've been talking. And I suppose I've been running since I learned to walk. Cycling I've taken up later in life, but my devotion to the activity has raised more than one eyebrow. Today I add another commitment to the list. Some may call it a hobby; some may call it enslavement or self torture; I call it my shiny, new blog!!

Rocinante, my valiant steed of a bicycle, just got the triple bypass of bicycle maintanence and returned to me in spunky style today. A new chain, a new set of cogs, a new rear tire and a shiny (if not entirely new) drivetrain.

We cruised home together from the bikeshop - I sweating in my colored shirt and dress pants, Rocinante gliding over potholes and threatening glass shards. The blissed out smile reached my lips and I laughed out loud.

God, I love this bike.

So Rocinante, this blog's for you baby!