This is a Spanish phrase that I have come to know well. It means "worth the pain". This is how I would describe yesterday, for example. We joined a tour to the lagoons outside of San Antonio de Areco, Chile where we are staying. The lagoons are not the usual swampy type that this word usually signifies. Rather, they are salt lakes in the desert surrounded by a ring of volcanos (some of them active!). We arrived at the first lagoon, which was shining bright blue in the middle of a stark white salt flat and we were here to swim. This desert (the driest in the world) can drop below freezing at night even in the summer. This keeps the surface of the lagoon water so cold that it burns. However, there is a hot thermal spring under this lake that meets the cold at a depth of about 3 feet. This lagoon is also extremely salty so that there is no actual swimming necessary. This is what I knew before jumping in.
Jess jumped first and proceded to scream. So I waited. After a minute she settled down and said that it was fine. Although I didnt believe her I jumped in anyway. The effect was quite wierd. The top 3 feet of my body was burning from cold. The bottom of my legs and feet were burning with heat. And I was bobbing in the water with no need to tread. I couldnt tell if I was cold or hot--just uncomfortable. I couldnt take it for long but it was quite the experience and reportedly quite therapeutic. I was glad to get out of the pool and into the heat of the day to sip some pisco sour (an extremely sour local cocktail) with our guide. All things considered, vale la pena.
I would also use this phrase to describe today. A mini bus pulled up to our hostel at 4:20 this morning for the tour to the local geysers. From here we proceded to drive up the mountain to a height of about 16,000 feet. When we arrived, the ambient temperature was -11 degrees celcius (or 12 degrees farenheit). The combined effect of exhaustion, altitude sickness, and below freezing temperature may not sound like somethig that a reasonable person would inflict upon oneself on vacation. But we did it for the geysers. Our destination was a field of steaming and spitting geyers located in what was essentially the crater of a volcano. There were streams of orange, red and green bacteria flowing from what looked like mini-volcanos and the emmitted water quickly turned to ice, making the field slippery and steamy at the same time.
The sun shortly came over the mountains and warmed things up somewhat. Just in time, in fact, for our next thermal bath. We arrived at a pool that looked like a field of steam and we gladly shed our clothes and headed in to warm up. Although we doubted it at 4:20 am, at this point we pronounced the trip vale la pena.
Unfortunately, internet connections here havent been substantive enough to upload pictures. So we are only able to describe our adventures. We will upload the best ones when we can.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
The road to Salta
It´s been a while since we´ve had reliable enough internet access to update the blog. When it takes 10 minutes for the gmail homepage to load, you know you´re not meant to be sitting at a computer :) We´ve been in a lot of smaller cities since leaving Mendoza and visited several parks along the way. But rather than give a light overview of everything we´ve been up to, I´m opting to give a more in depth description of one particular leg of the journey...
From Tucuman, we caught the one bus that goes to a small town called Cafayate. The road was full of switch backs and changing scenery, prompting much tapping of the shoulder and exclamations of "Look!¨" and "Did you see that?!". At first every donkey elicits such a response, but they soon become pasé, as do the goats, sheep and llamas. Five hours later, we arrive in Cafayate, a town of no more than 9,000. I declared it heaven with its warm sun, cheap food and great wines, and convince Kate to spend three nights here. But it was the road to Salta, about 4 hrs north of Cafayate that was truly incredible.
Within about 5 blocks you´re on a dirt road. Eventually the pavement picks back up as the road passes two famous wineries, their vines dormant for now. The torrontes grape vines are soaking up the dry, dusty air and the gale-force winds that make them flourish in the one and only place on earth. They produce a fruity smelling, but satisfyingly dry white wine for which the area is famous within Argentina.
After another 5 or 6 km the wineries and scattered trees give way to shrubs and cactuses before melting into sand dunes, held together with harsh, hardy looking bushes and giant candelabra cacti. The chard remains of trees destroyed in flames a few years ago dot the landscape, preserved by the dry, arid climate. The sand transforms from yellow-brown to pink and red quickly. The greens, browns, yellows and reds of the shrubs extend as far as you can see. One plant in particular - Kate´s favorite - stands out with its nearly flourescent green bark. It´s called a brea, electric green because its bark does the photosynthesis work in the winter.
Suddenly it seems as though the whole world has turned red with cliffs and spires rising up out of the sand and purple, blue mountains peeking out from the distance.
Slowly the road begins to rise, winding its way up through canyons beside the mostly dry riverbed of the Río Conchas. The place is known as the Quebrada de Conchas or La Quebrada de Cafayate.
Now color variations break the red hills...in perfect lines are woven all manners of yellows, shades of pink and stark white and black. The sandy floor glitters with small and large chunks of quartz - white, yellow and pink. Sections of greens and yellow plant life mark where a river sometimes flows.
The striations become more and more dramatic till you can barely believe what your eyes are telling you. And still you´re driving up, getting closer to those mountains all the while...the cliffs around you climbing higher and higher. The sky behind them is the kind of bright blue only achieved in such dry places.
Ruins like a mini Mesa Verde are carved into a cliff face. The rock seems to rise out of the ground at the most alarming angles, as though the earth had just ejected chunks here and there, calling to mind the Flatirons of Boulder, Colorado...only these are red.
A line of white dots marks a particularly strange formation called "The Friar". It´s hard to believe it´s actually natural as it looks like a rough sculpture. Before long we pass another odd formation just a few meters off the road, "The Frog". A giant composite rock, its base of red stone, shaped just like a squating from with the legs folded and appropriately rough skin.
Off to the left a steep mountainside reveals giant fissures, one known as "The Cathedral" stretching back no more than 100 meters into a huge opening big enough for one rioutous mass. The next, "La Garganta del Diablo" or Devil´s Throat (this one sounds so much better in Spanish, I think), winds back much further, seemingly endless if you can manage to scramble up the steeper sections.
This entire time the bus has been stopping to let people off the what seems like the middle of no where...nothing but rock and a mostly dry river. Where are these people going?
More and more of the rock is covered in scrubby green bushes and the river bed sprouts stunted trees. The road remains flanked by pink sand. And it continues like this for at least another 45 minutes, during which my heavy eyes start to close. Three hours later we´ll find ourselved in Salta, our last stop before crossing over the Andes to Chile.
From Tucuman, we caught the one bus that goes to a small town called Cafayate. The road was full of switch backs and changing scenery, prompting much tapping of the shoulder and exclamations of "Look!¨" and "Did you see that?!". At first every donkey elicits such a response, but they soon become pasé, as do the goats, sheep and llamas. Five hours later, we arrive in Cafayate, a town of no more than 9,000. I declared it heaven with its warm sun, cheap food and great wines, and convince Kate to spend three nights here. But it was the road to Salta, about 4 hrs north of Cafayate that was truly incredible.
Within about 5 blocks you´re on a dirt road. Eventually the pavement picks back up as the road passes two famous wineries, their vines dormant for now. The torrontes grape vines are soaking up the dry, dusty air and the gale-force winds that make them flourish in the one and only place on earth. They produce a fruity smelling, but satisfyingly dry white wine for which the area is famous within Argentina.
After another 5 or 6 km the wineries and scattered trees give way to shrubs and cactuses before melting into sand dunes, held together with harsh, hardy looking bushes and giant candelabra cacti. The chard remains of trees destroyed in flames a few years ago dot the landscape, preserved by the dry, arid climate. The sand transforms from yellow-brown to pink and red quickly. The greens, browns, yellows and reds of the shrubs extend as far as you can see. One plant in particular - Kate´s favorite - stands out with its nearly flourescent green bark. It´s called a brea, electric green because its bark does the photosynthesis work in the winter.
Suddenly it seems as though the whole world has turned red with cliffs and spires rising up out of the sand and purple, blue mountains peeking out from the distance.
Slowly the road begins to rise, winding its way up through canyons beside the mostly dry riverbed of the Río Conchas. The place is known as the Quebrada de Conchas or La Quebrada de Cafayate.
Now color variations break the red hills...in perfect lines are woven all manners of yellows, shades of pink and stark white and black. The sandy floor glitters with small and large chunks of quartz - white, yellow and pink. Sections of greens and yellow plant life mark where a river sometimes flows.
The striations become more and more dramatic till you can barely believe what your eyes are telling you. And still you´re driving up, getting closer to those mountains all the while...the cliffs around you climbing higher and higher. The sky behind them is the kind of bright blue only achieved in such dry places.
Ruins like a mini Mesa Verde are carved into a cliff face. The rock seems to rise out of the ground at the most alarming angles, as though the earth had just ejected chunks here and there, calling to mind the Flatirons of Boulder, Colorado...only these are red.
A line of white dots marks a particularly strange formation called "The Friar". It´s hard to believe it´s actually natural as it looks like a rough sculpture. Before long we pass another odd formation just a few meters off the road, "The Frog". A giant composite rock, its base of red stone, shaped just like a squating from with the legs folded and appropriately rough skin.
Off to the left a steep mountainside reveals giant fissures, one known as "The Cathedral" stretching back no more than 100 meters into a huge opening big enough for one rioutous mass. The next, "La Garganta del Diablo" or Devil´s Throat (this one sounds so much better in Spanish, I think), winds back much further, seemingly endless if you can manage to scramble up the steeper sections.
This entire time the bus has been stopping to let people off the what seems like the middle of no where...nothing but rock and a mostly dry river. Where are these people going?
More and more of the rock is covered in scrubby green bushes and the river bed sprouts stunted trees. The road remains flanked by pink sand. And it continues like this for at least another 45 minutes, during which my heavy eyes start to close. Three hours later we´ll find ourselved in Salta, our last stop before crossing over the Andes to Chile.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Update
By the way, not all the pictures described on the blog post are yet uploaded. Look for them soon!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
More News on Argentina
Much has happened since the jugoso steak post. There are ups and there are downs. We get spoiled and we have to rough it. As you could tell from the photo postings we took a day trip to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. It was beautiful! It was sunny, warm and quiet. We ate good food and drank good wine. We were further spoiled by our two day trip to an estancia (ranch) in San Antonio de Areco, which is a traditional gaucho (cowboy) town. We splurged a little and got a beautiful room with big white fluffy bedding, a crackling fireplace and big bath tub. There was always coffee, wine and pie to be had and we spend two days relaxing with the cows, turkeys and horses. We figured that we deserved it after the week we spent in a dormitory hostel room in the hectic city of Buenos Aires.
However, our luck was soon to turn. The plan was to take a short bus ride back to Buenos Aires to catch a long bus ride to Mendoza. Our travel agent said that the ride to Buenos Aires was 1.5 hrs and that we could catch a bus two hours later to Mendoza. Not only was the bus ride two hours long to start with but our bus also broke down on the side of the road when we were 10 minutes away from our destination. That didn´t end up mattering though because when we got to the bus depot we sat in standstill traffic for the better part of an hour, ensuring that we missed our scheduled bus to Mendoza. When we got into the depot there were thousands of people covering every square foot of the place. It was Dia de the Liberator, General San Martin, and a long weekend. Everyone was leaving the city. We managed to get our tickets exchanged for seats on a later bus, though we had to sacrafice our cama class, meaning that we didn´t get fully recling seats for the 15 hour overnight bus ride. There wasn´t time to grab anything for dinner but luckily/unluckily enough there was food on the bus: a styrofoam tray with every variety of ham and cheese sandwich...and a coconut square for desert. Breakfast was free too: cafe con leche and something that can only be described as 10 layers of tasteless cardboard bread pasted together.
We arrived in Mendoza yesterday. It was snowing but we were glad to be here. Yesterday we explored the wineries via bicycle (it warmed up a bit in the later half of the day). Mendoza is interesting because it is in a surprisingly undeveloped area for being such a famous wine region (as the pictures show). The wines and olive oils were fabulous and we got to tour the vineyards and facilities to see how it all worked. Today we are off on a two hour bus ride to San Juan to see the Valle de Luna. It´s a desert landscape that is supposed to be beautiful and, as the name suggests, a bit other-worldly. Wish us luck on this next piece of the adventure!
However, our luck was soon to turn. The plan was to take a short bus ride back to Buenos Aires to catch a long bus ride to Mendoza. Our travel agent said that the ride to Buenos Aires was 1.5 hrs and that we could catch a bus two hours later to Mendoza. Not only was the bus ride two hours long to start with but our bus also broke down on the side of the road when we were 10 minutes away from our destination. That didn´t end up mattering though because when we got to the bus depot we sat in standstill traffic for the better part of an hour, ensuring that we missed our scheduled bus to Mendoza. When we got into the depot there were thousands of people covering every square foot of the place. It was Dia de the Liberator, General San Martin, and a long weekend. Everyone was leaving the city. We managed to get our tickets exchanged for seats on a later bus, though we had to sacrafice our cama class, meaning that we didn´t get fully recling seats for the 15 hour overnight bus ride. There wasn´t time to grab anything for dinner but luckily/unluckily enough there was food on the bus: a styrofoam tray with every variety of ham and cheese sandwich...and a coconut square for desert. Breakfast was free too: cafe con leche and something that can only be described as 10 layers of tasteless cardboard bread pasted together.
We arrived in Mendoza yesterday. It was snowing but we were glad to be here. Yesterday we explored the wineries via bicycle (it warmed up a bit in the later half of the day). Mendoza is interesting because it is in a surprisingly undeveloped area for being such a famous wine region (as the pictures show). The wines and olive oils were fabulous and we got to tour the vineyards and facilities to see how it all worked. Today we are off on a two hour bus ride to San Juan to see the Valle de Luna. It´s a desert landscape that is supposed to be beautiful and, as the name suggests, a bit other-worldly. Wish us luck on this next piece of the adventure!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Estoy jugoso
We are now one week into our trip and I have already eaten more meat than in the rest of my 27 years combined. My stomach is handling the transition pretty well given the about face my diet has taken. Now, lest you think this means the food is bad, let me tell you a little story about two gringos in a fancy restuarant in the excessively trendy neighborhood of Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires...The restaurant had been included in an article in the New York Times listing eating establishments that are worth the price of a plane ticket, so our expectations were high. We were also prepared to plunk down some serious cash thanks to my generous friends at Environmental Defense (I promise you guys, I put it to good use!). We arrived at a respectable Argentinian dinner hour, 9pm (most restaurants are not open till 8), but given that we did not have a reservation, we were seated, and I mean seated with the pull out your chair take your jacket off type service, in the waiting area. After consulting the waiter for some help in choosing a nice Argentinian malbec from the book sized wine list, we settled in for a wait. Plate after plate of tasty appetizers appeared at our table till we were shown to a table that resembled a giant tree stump.
Immediately upon being seated again, a new platter of tasty treats appeared. They were so good that Kate even ate the mushrooms and I ate what appeared to be a thin slice of cold, mostly raw beef. Kate opted for a salad as she has been seriously missing the greens and was banking on my steak being big enough for sharing. It was a good bet. I ordered the medallon de lomo (a giant tenderloin steak) and learned how to say rare from the waiter, jugoso, literally meaning juicy.
When my steak appeared it came on a giant plate all on its own with the little guy above resting on it. He was indead juicy and we ate every last bite of that steak. It was so good, I had tears in my eyes. When we were ready to leave we had to flag down the waiter for the check (they never deliver it without you asking) and got the biggest shock of all.
Dinner cost us 200 pesos, or roughly $65. I guess we will just have to go again!
There are plenty more stories to tell but I will leave it at this for now...you can check the newest pictures for more details. You will not find, however, find any pictures of a second incredible dinner we had in Palermo (think SoHo) where they gave us free champagne and chorizo and olives as we waited for some famous parrilla (grilled meat). I will refrain from telling you only about food in the future, I promise! Next up, we will be at an Estancia in the Pampas for two days and hopefully will have some good horseback riding experiences to report. By Saturday, we will be in Mendoza which will be all about wine, wine and more wine.
Friday, August 10, 2007
We're here!
This is just a quick note to say that we are safely in Buenos Aires and enjoying ourselves. Pictures soon to follow. Our cell phone is working, we found a nice little hostel, and everything is as cheap as promised. And we haven't even gotten sick yet. There are, of course, so many things that could have gone wrong so we are as happy as can be. So far we have done some shopping, visited the enormous cemetary where Evita is buried, seen a tango show, and eaten some beef. We are looking forward to some clubbing and a soccer match this weekend. We'll post again soon!
Monday, August 06, 2007
Sailing Glory
I have a penchant for sea sickness. Numerous boat outings have consisted of lots of head over side time. Typically, I most enjoy being at sea when unconscious. Thus, you might understand my fear when Kate's dad suggested we help crew for his weekly sailing race while we were in town. That and I don't know a thing about how to sail, let alone race.
You can imagine my surprise when I not only avoided getting sick, but also helped crew on the winning boat! While my contribution primarily consisted of staying out of the way and running from side to side to dangle my feet over the appropriate side of the boat, I did learn some handy sailing terms and attempted to man the sheet of the spinnaker (hopefully I got my terminology for pulling a rope right!).
Tomorrow we fly to Buenos Aires where it looks comfortably cool, unlike sweltering NYC. For now, enjoy the new sailing photos!
You can imagine my surprise when I not only avoided getting sick, but also helped crew on the winning boat! While my contribution primarily consisted of staying out of the way and running from side to side to dangle my feet over the appropriate side of the boat, I did learn some handy sailing terms and attempted to man the sheet of the spinnaker (hopefully I got my terminology for pulling a rope right!).
Tomorrow we fly to Buenos Aires where it looks comfortably cool, unlike sweltering NYC. For now, enjoy the new sailing photos!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
A Beautiful But Rocky Start
Jess and I have had a beautiful beginning to the trip. We first traveled to Whistler to do some mountain biking and hiking (and in Jess' case ziptreking). As luck would have it, we happened to be visiting during a mountain biking festival, called Crankworx, and were able to watch some of the most hard core types throwing themselves off ramps the size of ski jumps. We began our downhill mountain biking experience a bit more humbly on the green and blue trails. For those of you who are not familiar with downhill mountain biking, this actually involves taking your 45 pound tank of a bike (think dirt bike without an engine) up the ski lift and riding it down trails that are built on ski runs - or between ski runs, weaving through trees, down rocks and over narrow wooden bridges. As it turns out, rocks are harder than snow and Jess came away with some gnarly rock-shaped bruises, as featured in our photos.
On Wednesday, we took the gondola up to the top of the Whistler peak to do some hiking. Our chosen trail boasted a fabulous sign -- "Danger: beware of avalanches, crevasses, rock slides, and unmarked terrain. Have a nice hike!" It involved some beautiful mountain views, waterfalls and snowy slopes that we tried not to slide down. Apparently the warning was sufficiently scary as we had the trail all to ourselves. It was altogether a fabulous hike--except that Jess somehow contracted a case of poison oak.
Thursday we rented some cruiser bikes and spent the day in the fabulous city of Vancouver munching seafood and envying it's car-free bike lanes. By the end of the day, however, Jess was working on a nasty cold.
On Friday Jess' parents drove us down to Seattle where we've spent some time visiting with family and hiking on the Olympic Peninsula. We took a small hike through the moss-covered trees of the Hoh Rainforest (small due to seriously itchy poison oak rash acting up) and then headed straight to the coast where we did some hiking, tidepooling, and sunset watching (tip for anyone with poison oak rash: the ocean heals all). On this rare portion of our trip Jess avoided obtaining any new injuries or illnesses.
The next leg of our journey involves flying back to NYC on the 5th and on to Buenos Aires on the 7th. We'll keep you all posted from there!
On Wednesday, we took the gondola up to the top of the Whistler peak to do some hiking. Our chosen trail boasted a fabulous sign -- "Danger: beware of avalanches, crevasses, rock slides, and unmarked terrain. Have a nice hike!" It involved some beautiful mountain views, waterfalls and snowy slopes that we tried not to slide down. Apparently the warning was sufficiently scary as we had the trail all to ourselves. It was altogether a fabulous hike--except that Jess somehow contracted a case of poison oak.
Thursday we rented some cruiser bikes and spent the day in the fabulous city of Vancouver munching seafood and envying it's car-free bike lanes. By the end of the day, however, Jess was working on a nasty cold.
On Friday Jess' parents drove us down to Seattle where we've spent some time visiting with family and hiking on the Olympic Peninsula. We took a small hike through the moss-covered trees of the Hoh Rainforest (small due to seriously itchy poison oak rash acting up) and then headed straight to the coast where we did some hiking, tidepooling, and sunset watching (tip for anyone with poison oak rash: the ocean heals all). On this rare portion of our trip Jess avoided obtaining any new injuries or illnesses.
The next leg of our journey involves flying back to NYC on the 5th and on to Buenos Aires on the 7th. We'll keep you all posted from there!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Whistler and Vancouver photos are up!
I'm not going to write more details right now, but I wanted to make sure all our fans out there got to see our first batch of photos. Kate should be following up with more commentary soon, but I added some narration to the photos so you can get a general idea of what we've been up to in the last week.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
It's really happening
Kate and I are both done with work at the end of today, meaning we're officially on vacation by 5 p.m. The focus of this blog is thus going from triathlon training to full time travel adventures.
We plan to stop in internet cafes to update the blog and download pictures pretty regularly (whenever our memory card runs out of space that is). Follow along by adding us to your feed reader or signing up to get an email whenever a new post goes up (see sign up box on the right). Photos will be added to my flickr account, but we'll also link to any new ones in each post.
If you want a postcard, email one of us with your mailing address and we promise to send you at least one!
jessica
We plan to stop in internet cafes to update the blog and download pictures pretty regularly (whenever our memory card runs out of space that is). Follow along by adding us to your feed reader or signing up to get an email whenever a new post goes up (see sign up box on the right). Photos will be added to my flickr account, but we'll also link to any new ones in each post.
If you want a postcard, email one of us with your mailing address and we promise to send you at least one!
jessica
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Roadkill
Rocinante is now a murderer. But it wasn't his fault -- that chipmunk was hell-bent on suicide, I tell you.
The crime was committed yesterday during a fun 4th of July ride with some friends on an incredible stretch of greenways that continued, almost unbroken, for roughly 40 miles. Rocinante was hugging the wheel of the bike in front of us, cruising at a very comfy 16 to 17 mph. The greenway was winding through a fairly densely wooded section. We both got lax - let our guards down. Suddenly, a renegade chipmunk skirted out in front of the rider in front of us and was clipped by her rear wheel. Within seconds both of Rocinante's wheels had sealed the deal for the furry critter.
It all happened so fast! And while there was no time to prevent it from happening, there was certainly plenty of time to replay the gruesome scene over and over in my head. Poor chippy. I suppose I could just say that the little guy was maimed from his run-in with the rider in front of me. Rocinante was just being merciful in finishing off the job. Yes, I think I'll stick with that rationale...that way I don't have to think of my poor bicycle as the fugitive he now is.
The crime was committed yesterday during a fun 4th of July ride with some friends on an incredible stretch of greenways that continued, almost unbroken, for roughly 40 miles. Rocinante was hugging the wheel of the bike in front of us, cruising at a very comfy 16 to 17 mph. The greenway was winding through a fairly densely wooded section. We both got lax - let our guards down. Suddenly, a renegade chipmunk skirted out in front of the rider in front of us and was clipped by her rear wheel. Within seconds both of Rocinante's wheels had sealed the deal for the furry critter.
It all happened so fast! And while there was no time to prevent it from happening, there was certainly plenty of time to replay the gruesome scene over and over in my head. Poor chippy. I suppose I could just say that the little guy was maimed from his run-in with the rider in front of me. Rocinante was just being merciful in finishing off the job. Yes, I think I'll stick with that rationale...that way I don't have to think of my poor bicycle as the fugitive he now is.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
What comes next?
It's been several weeks since my race and with no races coming up, the inevitable question must be asked: What now?
Well, I've been running 2 or 3 times a week since my race and doing a bit of riding here and there. I've avoided trips to the pool altogether. Swimming can get incredibly boring for me without a goal (in fact, boredom with swimming is how I got started in the sport of tri!) and after this last race, I have little motivation to maintain or work on my swimming. Last year's swimming motivation came entirely from my absolutely insane entry in the Little Red Lighthouse Swim (5.8 miles in the Hudson). Given how fast my swim was at the Mooseman and how much work the other legs of my race need, I feel I could do just fine on a once a week swim schedule in the future.
Anyway, the running and biking are soon to cease as well. Why? I'm going away for 3 and a half months!!! One week in Vancouver, one week in Seattle and three months in South America. The epic trip is now only 3 weeks and one day away and it suddenly hit me this week...I'm really doing this!
Yet, even though my brain is mostly filled with travel plans, a little room for thinking about my next triathlon season remains. Given that my next racing season seems to occupy at least as much mindshare as speculation over my next job, I must be officially hooked. I'm thinking of joining a tri team of some sort in the city, doing my first sprint (woah -- scaling down, what a concept for me!) and trying to add some serious speed to my olympic time. Maybe there will even be a new sister for Rocinante (no one tell my girlfriend this, please)! I'm backing away from the half for at least a year...or at least that's what I'm thinking right now, but given that I have 3+ months of potentially attitude-changing travel ahead of me, it's hard to say what will happen next.
Here's what I know for sure --
What comes next for Rocinante? A storage space :(
What comes next for the blog? Travel blog transformation!
What comes next for Jessica? A giant leap into the unknown
Well, I've been running 2 or 3 times a week since my race and doing a bit of riding here and there. I've avoided trips to the pool altogether. Swimming can get incredibly boring for me without a goal (in fact, boredom with swimming is how I got started in the sport of tri!) and after this last race, I have little motivation to maintain or work on my swimming. Last year's swimming motivation came entirely from my absolutely insane entry in the Little Red Lighthouse Swim (5.8 miles in the Hudson). Given how fast my swim was at the Mooseman and how much work the other legs of my race need, I feel I could do just fine on a once a week swim schedule in the future.
Anyway, the running and biking are soon to cease as well. Why? I'm going away for 3 and a half months!!! One week in Vancouver, one week in Seattle and three months in South America. The epic trip is now only 3 weeks and one day away and it suddenly hit me this week...I'm really doing this!
Yet, even though my brain is mostly filled with travel plans, a little room for thinking about my next triathlon season remains. Given that my next racing season seems to occupy at least as much mindshare as speculation over my next job, I must be officially hooked. I'm thinking of joining a tri team of some sort in the city, doing my first sprint (woah -- scaling down, what a concept for me!) and trying to add some serious speed to my olympic time. Maybe there will even be a new sister for Rocinante (no one tell my girlfriend this, please)! I'm backing away from the half for at least a year...or at least that's what I'm thinking right now, but given that I have 3+ months of potentially attitude-changing travel ahead of me, it's hard to say what will happen next.
Here's what I know for sure --
What comes next for Rocinante? A storage space :(
What comes next for the blog? Travel blog transformation!
What comes next for Jessica? A giant leap into the unknown
Sunday, June 17, 2007
How I Spent 6 hrs of My Life
So I'm finally sitting down to relive and record what happened at the Mooseman Half Ironman two weeks ago.
Day before
Kate and I rented a car and drove up to Bristol, NH which took a little more than 5 hrs. At this point I'd already been checking the weather forecast religiously for a week, hoping that with each new glance the chance of thunderstorms and rain would disappear. After getting burned by the weather at my last race, I was freaking out. Seven months of training only to be shot down by mother nature!
I tried to calm myself by talking through everything with Kate during the car ride. I must be the luckiest person alive to have a partner who will humor my rants for 5+ hrs without once hinting at boredom or exasperation. Eventually I decided that I'd gotten a lot out of those seven months of training, race or no race. I also decided that being nervous was only going to intensify the one preventable problem that could possibly keep me from finishing -- my gut. So I spent the rest of the day up till bed time repeating a mantra of "it's just for fun".
Kate's cousin and girlfriend met up with us later that evening and we pitched our respective tents in a giant field of triathletes -- bikes and gear strewn about. We chatted and laughed till about 9:30 when I decided I should get ready for bed, only to find we were the only ones in the campsite still awake!! It also downpoured that night, cooling the air a good 10 to 20 degrees. It turns out, that was the only serious rain we'd encounter till the ride home.
Prerace morning
I awoke at 4:30 a.m. to a din of alarms going off all over the camp, one after the other. First on the agenda was stuffing calories into my uncooperative stomach. I love food and I did not want to eat a single thing. I downed a couple of Ensures and took forever to eat a bagel with almond butter and a banana as Kate braided my hair. We packed up camp and headed over to the race. I'd racked my bike the previous night and covered it in garbage bags to keep it relatively dry. After laying out my gear and pacing the transition area to make sure I knew how to find my stuff from every possible direction - swim entrance, bike exit, bike entrance, run exit - I grabbed my wetsuit and Body Glide, made my fifteenth visit to the restroom and headed to the beach.
I'd dipped my toes in the lake the day before and thought, "this isn't that bad!" I was thinking the same thing this morning as I eased into the water till I was in up to my shoulders and the water really started to seep into my suit. Suddenly the full sensation hit me -- "Fuck! This is cold!!" I took probably no more than five strokes before climbing out and finding my fans on the beach to console me.
The swim (1.2 miles, 29:01)
I was in the last wave of the day (5 of 5) consisting of women under 35 and relay teams. The only men around were, therefore, part of a relay and only doing the swim. I wanted to thump them all in the head.
I made me way to the center front. I always try to put myself in the front because, in all frankness, triathletes are crappy swimmers and I am not. I'm not being conceited here -- as will be seen when I get to the bike -- just a realist. I prefer not to get kicked or punched and because I'm fast enough, the best way to avoid it is to put myself at the very front and stay up there. I suppose in a way I've avoided a triathlon right of passage (getting beat up on the swim) by being fast, but I'm totally okay with that!
The water stopped feeling cold within a few minutes and I settled into what felt like a very easy, comfortable pace. The water was amazingly clear and fresh. A major change from all my Hudson River swims of late. By the time I reached the beach, I'd swum through loads of athletes in earlier waves and felt awesome. I flashed my fans a big smile and a thumbs up as I ran up the beach to transition. First leg done - check!
Transition One (3:52, total: 32:53)
I've never used a wetsuit stripper before but I couldn't resist taking advantage. I unzipped my suit and stripped it down to my waist, flopped onto a mat of turf, stuck my legs up in the air and two preteen boys grabbed the sides of my suit and, flip!, it was off. Okay, that was cool!
I made my way to the bike to see the usual scene -- most of the bikes were still racked, meaning their owners were still in the water. I took some time to wipe my feet, put on socks and shoes, buckle my helmet, put on gloves and stuff three packs of Cliff Shots in my shirt pocket. I grabbed Rocinante and we were off!
Bike (56 miles, 3:20:18, total: 3:53:11)
Miles 1-10: I feel flippin' great. Forgot my shades in transition, but that's okay. It's overcast, kind of lightly spritzing and I notice the hardcore types aren't wearing any either (as they fly by me). In the first couple of miles you can see the lake and there's still lots of folks out there. I feel strong and happy. I'm having fun and I start to eat my Cliff Blocks and drink my water. I pass the first aid station and don't take anything yet. At the bottom of the steepest climb on the course a devil dances to tunes as she screams "To the top!" and I laugh.
Miles 11-25: Life is bad. Life is awful. My stomach wants to reject everything in it and I can't stop thinking about how long this bike ride is. I dropped my water bottle along the way and I've been picking up a new bottle at every aid station. I'm forcing myself to eat the Cliff Blocks but I really don't want them. Everyone is passing me and I fear I'm not going to finish this race. I don't know it at the time, but this is to be my lowest point of the day.
Miles 26-35: Thank the heavens I kept eating! I'm no longer nauseated, I've finished one of the two loops and life is sooooo much better. I know that while I've been passed a lot, there's no one on the run course before I've finished my first loop so I'm definitely still in a respectable place. I'm drinking and eating as I should be.
Miles 36-56: My back hurts. I have to pee. This ride feels interminable. While my stomach is under control, I'm tired and feeling a little dejected. I'm averaging below what I thought I could do. I'm like one of ten people on this course without aero bars. The ride is beautiful so I try to think about that and eventually I get to an aid station where I can run into the port a potty and relieve my aching bladder. Scattered fans yell "you look great!" and do the wave. I love them all. And then I see the finish and I'm so overcome with joy I start to cry.
Transition Two (3:51, total: 3:57:02)
I choke back a few big fat sobs and get myself under control. I notice that this time, most of the bikes are racked, meaning a lot of people passed me on the bike course. No matter, it's done! I start to jog for the exit wondering how this is going to feel after I was so wiped out by the bike. It feels so great to be upright and on my feet that I almost start crying again! I make a pit stop at the port a potty and I'm on my way!
Run(13.1 miles, 1:58:50, total: 5:55:50)
The run course is two loops. Kate's cousin runs much of the first loop with me (apparently against the rules, but something we don't find out till about mile 5 and counter to the answer she'd received when she asked race organizers whether she could do it). It feels like I'm on auto pilot. I'd resolved to do the first loop at whatever pace felt comfortable and walk through every aid station (one about every mile) to drink a glass of water at each. To my surprise, that pace is about a 9 minute mile.
The second loop is a bit more deserted than the first, but I'm passing people and almost never getting passed. This is not an experience I'm familiar with and it keeps me pumped up as I start to feel exhausted. With three miles left I decide not to drink any more water or walk. I can finish this thing in under 6 hrs after all!
And then just like that, I'm across the finish line and it's all over.
1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of biking and 13.1 miles of running later, I'm half iron and all pride.
Day before
Kate and I rented a car and drove up to Bristol, NH which took a little more than 5 hrs. At this point I'd already been checking the weather forecast religiously for a week, hoping that with each new glance the chance of thunderstorms and rain would disappear. After getting burned by the weather at my last race, I was freaking out. Seven months of training only to be shot down by mother nature!
I tried to calm myself by talking through everything with Kate during the car ride. I must be the luckiest person alive to have a partner who will humor my rants for 5+ hrs without once hinting at boredom or exasperation. Eventually I decided that I'd gotten a lot out of those seven months of training, race or no race. I also decided that being nervous was only going to intensify the one preventable problem that could possibly keep me from finishing -- my gut. So I spent the rest of the day up till bed time repeating a mantra of "it's just for fun".
Kate's cousin and girlfriend met up with us later that evening and we pitched our respective tents in a giant field of triathletes -- bikes and gear strewn about. We chatted and laughed till about 9:30 when I decided I should get ready for bed, only to find we were the only ones in the campsite still awake!! It also downpoured that night, cooling the air a good 10 to 20 degrees. It turns out, that was the only serious rain we'd encounter till the ride home.
Prerace morning
I awoke at 4:30 a.m. to a din of alarms going off all over the camp, one after the other. First on the agenda was stuffing calories into my uncooperative stomach. I love food and I did not want to eat a single thing. I downed a couple of Ensures and took forever to eat a bagel with almond butter and a banana as Kate braided my hair. We packed up camp and headed over to the race. I'd racked my bike the previous night and covered it in garbage bags to keep it relatively dry. After laying out my gear and pacing the transition area to make sure I knew how to find my stuff from every possible direction - swim entrance, bike exit, bike entrance, run exit - I grabbed my wetsuit and Body Glide, made my fifteenth visit to the restroom and headed to the beach.
I'd dipped my toes in the lake the day before and thought, "this isn't that bad!" I was thinking the same thing this morning as I eased into the water till I was in up to my shoulders and the water really started to seep into my suit. Suddenly the full sensation hit me -- "Fuck! This is cold!!" I took probably no more than five strokes before climbing out and finding my fans on the beach to console me.
The swim (1.2 miles, 29:01)
I was in the last wave of the day (5 of 5) consisting of women under 35 and relay teams. The only men around were, therefore, part of a relay and only doing the swim. I wanted to thump them all in the head.
I made me way to the center front. I always try to put myself in the front because, in all frankness, triathletes are crappy swimmers and I am not. I'm not being conceited here -- as will be seen when I get to the bike -- just a realist. I prefer not to get kicked or punched and because I'm fast enough, the best way to avoid it is to put myself at the very front and stay up there. I suppose in a way I've avoided a triathlon right of passage (getting beat up on the swim) by being fast, but I'm totally okay with that!
The water stopped feeling cold within a few minutes and I settled into what felt like a very easy, comfortable pace. The water was amazingly clear and fresh. A major change from all my Hudson River swims of late. By the time I reached the beach, I'd swum through loads of athletes in earlier waves and felt awesome. I flashed my fans a big smile and a thumbs up as I ran up the beach to transition. First leg done - check!
Transition One (3:52, total: 32:53)
I've never used a wetsuit stripper before but I couldn't resist taking advantage. I unzipped my suit and stripped it down to my waist, flopped onto a mat of turf, stuck my legs up in the air and two preteen boys grabbed the sides of my suit and, flip!, it was off. Okay, that was cool!
I made my way to the bike to see the usual scene -- most of the bikes were still racked, meaning their owners were still in the water. I took some time to wipe my feet, put on socks and shoes, buckle my helmet, put on gloves and stuff three packs of Cliff Shots in my shirt pocket. I grabbed Rocinante and we were off!
Bike (56 miles, 3:20:18, total: 3:53:11)
Miles 1-10: I feel flippin' great. Forgot my shades in transition, but that's okay. It's overcast, kind of lightly spritzing and I notice the hardcore types aren't wearing any either (as they fly by me). In the first couple of miles you can see the lake and there's still lots of folks out there. I feel strong and happy. I'm having fun and I start to eat my Cliff Blocks and drink my water. I pass the first aid station and don't take anything yet. At the bottom of the steepest climb on the course a devil dances to tunes as she screams "To the top!" and I laugh.
Miles 11-25: Life is bad. Life is awful. My stomach wants to reject everything in it and I can't stop thinking about how long this bike ride is. I dropped my water bottle along the way and I've been picking up a new bottle at every aid station. I'm forcing myself to eat the Cliff Blocks but I really don't want them. Everyone is passing me and I fear I'm not going to finish this race. I don't know it at the time, but this is to be my lowest point of the day.
Miles 26-35: Thank the heavens I kept eating! I'm no longer nauseated, I've finished one of the two loops and life is sooooo much better. I know that while I've been passed a lot, there's no one on the run course before I've finished my first loop so I'm definitely still in a respectable place. I'm drinking and eating as I should be.
Miles 36-56: My back hurts. I have to pee. This ride feels interminable. While my stomach is under control, I'm tired and feeling a little dejected. I'm averaging below what I thought I could do. I'm like one of ten people on this course without aero bars. The ride is beautiful so I try to think about that and eventually I get to an aid station where I can run into the port a potty and relieve my aching bladder. Scattered fans yell "you look great!" and do the wave. I love them all. And then I see the finish and I'm so overcome with joy I start to cry.
Transition Two (3:51, total: 3:57:02)
I choke back a few big fat sobs and get myself under control. I notice that this time, most of the bikes are racked, meaning a lot of people passed me on the bike course. No matter, it's done! I start to jog for the exit wondering how this is going to feel after I was so wiped out by the bike. It feels so great to be upright and on my feet that I almost start crying again! I make a pit stop at the port a potty and I'm on my way!
Run(13.1 miles, 1:58:50, total: 5:55:50)
The run course is two loops. Kate's cousin runs much of the first loop with me (apparently against the rules, but something we don't find out till about mile 5 and counter to the answer she'd received when she asked race organizers whether she could do it). It feels like I'm on auto pilot. I'd resolved to do the first loop at whatever pace felt comfortable and walk through every aid station (one about every mile) to drink a glass of water at each. To my surprise, that pace is about a 9 minute mile.
The second loop is a bit more deserted than the first, but I'm passing people and almost never getting passed. This is not an experience I'm familiar with and it keeps me pumped up as I start to feel exhausted. With three miles left I decide not to drink any more water or walk. I can finish this thing in under 6 hrs after all!
And then just like that, I'm across the finish line and it's all over.
1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of biking and 13.1 miles of running later, I'm half iron and all pride.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Half Iron, Half Pain
I've been a bad, bad blogger, but I chalk it up to being too busy exercising and socializing - as well as too damn worried about my race to talk about my race.But now, the race is done! That's right, I'm half iron. Which begs the question, what's the other half of me made of? During the second loop of my 13.1 mile run, I was contemplating that very question. At that point I knew I was going to finish (not something I was totally convinced of during the entire race), it was just a matter of how fast. The first answer to that question? Hostess cupcakes!! I immediately became nauseated and pushed the thought aside, moving on to some other diversionary line of thinking. When the race was done and I was sitting waiting for my free massage sporting my moose antlers, I thought "pain! the other half is pain!"
The pain has subsided and now I wonder, is the other half of me made of perseverance or tenacity, or just sheer stupidity? (This is a rhetorical question, thank you.)
Given that it's getting kind of late, I'll leave off my full race report for later. For now, here's some eye candy from the race.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Cycling + BBQ = heaven
My weekend can be summed up quite simply: cycling, eating, more cycling, more eating, sleeping. And it couldn't have been a better weekend for it! It was amazingly beautiful out.
Saturday consisted of a ride with the NYCC through Connecticut, while Sunday was dominated by the 5 Boro Bike Tour. The tour is a huge extravaganza -- the biggest cycling event in the city. I heard this year's ride hit 32,000 riders!
The route takes you down the southbound side of the FDR, over the Queensboro Bridge, on the BQE to the Verrazano-Narrows and into Staten Island. Basically, the ride is full of amazing views, not the least of which is a sea of cyclists extending for hours and hours. Apparently my parents heard about it on Fox News and I even met a few SU alums in town for the ride on Saturday. (They were riding up St. Nick's and looking rather lost when I led them back to the west side trail -- building up my "helping lost and clueless and out-of-towners" karma!)
The tour is notoriously crowded and somewhat accident-prone given the number of riders packed together. I find it relatively easy to avoid collisions though. It just takes a little care, and I'm not out there to set any land speed records. That's why it makes me nuts when these "hardcore" cyclist types get all cranky about the tour...as though riding in it makes you less of a cyclist! Frankly, I can't imagine anything more empowering than taking over major highways and bridges with seas and seas of bikes. I say the more, the merrier!
The best part of the tour? Finishing it off with a gorging at Dinosaur BBQ. What can I say? Riding is great and all, but guilt-free calorie stuffing, now that's priceless.
Saturday consisted of a ride with the NYCC through Connecticut, while Sunday was dominated by the 5 Boro Bike Tour. The tour is a huge extravaganza -- the biggest cycling event in the city. I heard this year's ride hit 32,000 riders!
The route takes you down the southbound side of the FDR, over the Queensboro Bridge, on the BQE to the Verrazano-Narrows and into Staten Island. Basically, the ride is full of amazing views, not the least of which is a sea of cyclists extending for hours and hours. Apparently my parents heard about it on Fox News and I even met a few SU alums in town for the ride on Saturday. (They were riding up St. Nick's and looking rather lost when I led them back to the west side trail -- building up my "helping lost and clueless and out-of-towners" karma!)
The tour is notoriously crowded and somewhat accident-prone given the number of riders packed together. I find it relatively easy to avoid collisions though. It just takes a little care, and I'm not out there to set any land speed records. That's why it makes me nuts when these "hardcore" cyclist types get all cranky about the tour...as though riding in it makes you less of a cyclist! Frankly, I can't imagine anything more empowering than taking over major highways and bridges with seas and seas of bikes. I say the more, the merrier!
The best part of the tour? Finishing it off with a gorging at Dinosaur BBQ. What can I say? Riding is great and all, but guilt-free calorie stuffing, now that's priceless.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Commuting as exercise
I've recently rediscovered the beauty of multi-tasking. A few weeks ago it occurred to me that I live about 8 or 9 miles from my office -- a distance that takes about 40 minutes door-to-door via the subway. Given that I was doing 10+ mile runs, it was thus not unreasonable that I could just RUN home! Of course running 8 or 9 miles was definitely going to take more than 40 minutes...but consider how many minutes it would take to go home, change and then run for 9 miles!
Since that revelation I've been able to space out long bike days and long run days by something more than 12 hrs. My legs love me for it.
Of course, the run home from work hasn't been perfect each time. Last week I ran a whopping 13 miles, but only after having allowed my doctor to give me a tetanus shot and eating like crap all day. Not the best decisions I've ever made. The result? Well, let's just say I have firsthand experience of nearly every public restroom on the west side greenway from 23rd to 148th. At least I learned something from my stupidity. This week's 15 mile run was executed with relative ease (in as much as one can reasonably apply the word "ease" to a 15 mile run).
Today, I only needed an hour of riding which was covered by riding to and from work, a distance that takes the same 40 minutes as my subway commute. Check!
As an aside, I am now reasonably certain I'm going to lose my left toenail as well. Just in time for sandal season!
Since that revelation I've been able to space out long bike days and long run days by something more than 12 hrs. My legs love me for it.
Of course, the run home from work hasn't been perfect each time. Last week I ran a whopping 13 miles, but only after having allowed my doctor to give me a tetanus shot and eating like crap all day. Not the best decisions I've ever made. The result? Well, let's just say I have firsthand experience of nearly every public restroom on the west side greenway from 23rd to 148th. At least I learned something from my stupidity. This week's 15 mile run was executed with relative ease (in as much as one can reasonably apply the word "ease" to a 15 mile run).
Today, I only needed an hour of riding which was covered by riding to and from work, a distance that takes the same 40 minutes as my subway commute. Check!
As an aside, I am now reasonably certain I'm going to lose my left toenail as well. Just in time for sandal season!
Monday, April 23, 2007
Computer held hostage by mean graduate student
There have been no blog posts for a while now, and lest you think that means I haven't been working out, let me set the record straight. I've been working out like a fiend still, though I've lost my appetite for logging workouts (my appetite for food remains ferocious). Last week I completed a 12 mile run and did a 65 mile group ride that zoomed down the LIE service road at a frightening 22+ mph. I even scored myself some sweet bike glove sun burn lines (no picture, sorry).
No, the reason for my long absence on the blog is the girlfriend. The thing is, I have to use the girlfriend's computer to bring you these lovely little tales each week. She, however, has been selfishly hogging all the computer time in her quest to finish her thesis and graduate with a degree in less than a month.
At least it will be over soon. Which means I can post here more often and, much more importantly, I won't have to do all the dishes around this place!!
No, the reason for my long absence on the blog is the girlfriend. The thing is, I have to use the girlfriend's computer to bring you these lovely little tales each week. She, however, has been selfishly hogging all the computer time in her quest to finish her thesis and graduate with a degree in less than a month.
At least it will be over soon. Which means I can post here more often and, much more importantly, I won't have to do all the dishes around this place!!
Monday, April 02, 2007
Somewhat disturbing side effects of long runs
Yesterday I ran 10 miles -- hallelujah!! I'm only 3.2 miles away from half ironman glory. That's nothing! However, I must admit that these long runs are exacting a tole on my body in ways I never expected:1. Willingness to jump into a cold bath. I discussed this new habit last week, but I have a picture to add this week! I can't actually say that the fleece and the hat make me any warmer but it helps with the psychological pain of these baths.
2. Relentless hunger. I'm actually somewhat nauseous immediately after a long run but the next day -- watch out food, here I come!
3. I'm all alone! The girlfriend was running with me till I topped the 7 mile mark. After that she bailed. I thought this was a pretty reasonable decision on her part given that her only workouts were these long runs once a week, but I miss the company after 60 minutes.
4. Unusual scabs. The most alarming one is on my sternum where the bottom of my sports bra rubs against my skin. Initially I tried putting Body Guide and/or Vaseline on, but after 8 miles or so it still hurts. Now it's just a little scab :(
5. Impending death of my toe nail. This is disgusting, so avert your eyes if you are faint of heart. I think I'm going to lose the nail on my big toe. Yesterday after my run I took off my sneakers and noticed the nail on my right big toe was rather dark. I pushed on it and it did NOT feed good. I even had to keep it out of my ice bath because it felt really uncomfortable under water. Today is no better, so I'm preparing for the worst -- this sucker is going to fall off, I just know it.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Taking the plunge
Yesterday I went for the longest run of my life -- 9 miles. If you had told me before January 2005 that some day I would run 9 miles, I would have laughed my ass off. If you had told me that some day I would run 9 miles, then climb into a tub of freezing cold water and marinate in it for 10 minutes, I would have started to cackle till I fell over mid cackle and continued cackling as I rolled around on the ground for a while.
In case it's unclear, that's exactly what I did yesterday (only after having swum for 45 minutes at 7 a.m. on a Sunday and only before an hour and a half of yoga and in between consuming three times my body weight in food).
It's torture. Just look at this gnarly rugby player who is clearly struggling with the overwhelming urge to jump out of his ice bath, chase down his trainer and beat him/her to a pulp. I decided to endure the torture simply because getting out of bed the day after a long run was even more torturous. I was going to try icing all my joints (knees, hips, ankles) instead, but that just seemed like way too much of a pain. It does seem to make a difference, even if every child within a three block radius has been corrupted by my copious amounts of swearing during the immersion process.
Besides, if Runner's Magazine says it's so, it must be!
In case it's unclear, that's exactly what I did yesterday (only after having swum for 45 minutes at 7 a.m. on a Sunday and only before an hour and a half of yoga and in between consuming three times my body weight in food).
It's torture. Just look at this gnarly rugby player who is clearly struggling with the overwhelming urge to jump out of his ice bath, chase down his trainer and beat him/her to a pulp. I decided to endure the torture simply because getting out of bed the day after a long run was even more torturous. I was going to try icing all my joints (knees, hips, ankles) instead, but that just seemed like way too much of a pain. It does seem to make a difference, even if every child within a three block radius has been corrupted by my copious amounts of swearing during the immersion process.
Besides, if Runner's Magazine says it's so, it must be!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Redefining sexy
The fashion and cosmetic industry experts would you have believe that a woman is most attractive and alluring when she's swathed in the latest haute couture and painted to perfection. I have to report that a little spandex, a sports bra and copious amounts of sweat have always produced more consistent results for me!It never ceases to amaze me the reactions that my workout attire, messy hair and flushed face can elicit from the male population in my neighborhood. They stare, they whistle, they yell "hey baby" and "good lookin'". Tonight I got a few calls as I walked from Riverside to my apartment and another "hiii, darlin" once inside my building. When I walked in, I immediately went to the bathroom to blow my nose for another 10 min, but when I looked into the mirror my hair was a sweaty, awful mess.
Now, I believe I look good in my running clothes (that's my standard running ensemble pictured there, minus the hat which was a celebratory flourish for my New Year's run in Central Park) but I have no illusions about my overall appearance. Looking in the mirror tonight just confirmed my suspicions that men could care less about your face or your hair or your expensive shoes. They just want to see some curves!
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