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!