Bliss

There are two unmistakeable smells that instantly fill me with calm happiness: indoor swimming pools and big university libraries. Bliss.

Speed blogging

righto, I have twelve minutes before I must plunge back into considerations of compliance to treatment regimes. It's fascinating stuff and I feel as though I'm finally on a bit of a roll with study - zooming into the study of an evening to look up just one more article (I can stop any time I want to, no really) is feeling like a constructive activity rather than a burdensome PITA*. Noddie and the Spousal Unit are watching Charlotte's Web as I'm working. We borrowed it from the library and I think it'll be the perfect wind-down after the birthday party they've been at all afternoon Another benefit of study - don't think I wasn't glad to have an impressive and sympathy-inducing excuse to stay home!
The news: my friend's sister's funeral was lovely, and as awful as you can imagine a sendoff for a twenty-year-old dead of leukaemia would be. Today would have been her twenty-first birthday. My heart aches for them.
Work: I love my job. It's difficult and intense and sometimes quite draining, and it affirms that all this time and money I've devoted to uni has been the Right Thing.
Uni: we have our on-campus school this week and I'm apprehensive - of meeting a whole group of new people, and of being the least prepared. But it's going to happen whether I am scared or not and as I frequently say to Noddie, you can choose how you think about things, and I don't know why you would choose to do something that makes you unhappy. The poor child. So I'm looking forward to it!
Four minutes left, eek! Better make it pertinent!
Training: nine weeks until the Gold Coast half marathon. My number is H1065, and Noddie's number in the Junior Dash is D0034. If all goes well** I'll have at least six 15km+ runs under my belt by then and a really good chance at a PB. After missing one by about a minutelast year I'm champing at the bit. I am also hoping to do the Mother's Day run with my dear mama as I have the last five years. The only problem with that is the clash with J's petrolhead Day of Days at DECA in Shapparton. If he wasn't on the club committee I'd merely be ropeable. As it is I'm spitting chips. Has he learned nothing from last year's stubby-holder fiasco? Sheesh.
That took twenty minutes, bad, bad LBTEPA.
More anon, funsters!
*Pain In The Arse
** No injuries, no foul germs from Noddie

The bare essentials

Must. Study.
Must go to work.
Must spend quality time with Spousal Unit
Must. Study.
Must help Noddie learn to ride her Big Girl bike.
Must make sure there's food and clean clothes and hem Noddie's school pants.
Must. Study.
Must stay connected with dear friends
Must ride ok ok mostly on the trainer in front of the tv. Don't judge me
Must. Study.
Must read Noddie stories and listen to her prayers
Must run. Thinking insane thoughts about next few races. MUST RUN
Must do pushups and physio exercises
Must drink more water and try and come up with some way to curtail after work scoff-fest
Must. Study.
Must freak out about amount of reading and presentation-writing to be done in the next week
Must try and retain some of what I'm reading.
Must remember that I'm busy now because I've had so much FUN this summer!
Must. Study.
Must go to a funeral on Tuesday :(
Must. Study.
Must. Study.
More anon, crazy diamonds!

Sad

My friend's sister died from leukaemia yesterday. She was 21.
Another friend's dad died on Monday, eight weeks after being diagnosed with bowel cancer.
Chateau LBTEPA is quiet this week. Hug your loved ones, my friends.

I know I should have been at home studying all weekend

.....but life's far too short to miss important things

like a day out with the family, splendid hats, ten to seven on Easter morning, a happy egg hunter, a lovely long run along the river road, my sister's salty sea dog, and wondering if, after all these years of my Dad's insane boat trips, it's too late to mutiny.

More anon, belated knucklers-down!

I'm in love

A cautionary tale

That Bug Was Yuck. It so nice not to be plagued by germs and to feel vaguely capable of donning the runners and heading out. Not that I have yet, but I can now contemplate the prospect as realistic. Maybe tomorrow.

Completely changing the subject: are you the bill-payer in your house? Do you sometimes put things off and say, I'll pay that later? And then sometimes forget and get the red bill and say oooh! whoops! and hop onto the internet quicksticks so that the power won't be cut off? Here's a quiz for you, reluctant paper-jugglers: guess which one you really must never never forget to pay. No idea? Well, boys and girls, let the voice of Bitter Experience give you the good oil: The dog registration.

Neglect it at your peril. Yes, that innocuous little green one from the council there, lurking in your to-do pile minding its own business, politely coughing from time to time so it moves higher up the stack, and then slipping down again because...well because I'm vague and hopeless, ok?

DO NOT FORGET TO PAY THIS BILL.

Otherwise, on the day you are too ill to lift your head off the pillow to let your dogs in, there will be a severe thunderstorm and they will get out, and because you didn't pay their registration they will be taken to the lost dogs' home on the other side of the city even though they were caught two streets away from your house (and they are microchipped, so the nice kind animal control officer lady can let you know and nearly make you cry because she is so nice and you feel so sick and so stupid) and you will have to drive across the city next morning to ransom them even though you still feel like death warmed up and you will be up for nearly a thousand dollars (stupid owner fine + careless owner fine + forgetful owner fine, times two). I have a medical certificate so I may be able to have the careless owner fine waived, but it's still a lot of shoe money. Sigh.

I have decided that my function in life is to be a Warning To Others.

But then again.... J and I were recalling how seven or eight years ago when we were massively broke this would have been an absolute gut-wrenching financial disaster, whereas now it's 'merely' a monumental pain in the arse.

More anon, puppy parents

An hour later: AND NOW VIC ROADS IS SAYING WE HAVEN'T REGISTERED OUR CAR??? WTF???

K-Rudd could have just kept his free money and saved himself the stamp

Oh well

Underdone I'll have a crack at pretty much anything, as you know, but underdone plus acute viral gastroenteritis (thanks a lot, Noddie, and your germy little mates)? Sorry Geelong, see you next year. You were a treat to finish the season, not my A race. Don't be offended.
More anon, seers of the big picture!

It's raining fabulousness

OMG OMG OMG I am just about incoherent with excitement! This evening I will be basking in a glow of fabulousness as I dine with the creme de la creme of Melbourne Blogger Royalty! Adding further lustre to the occasion - if that's possible - will be International Blogging Superstar, enthusiastic embracer of life and all-round hilarious chick Dietgirl! Ooooh!!!
*fans self*
I didn't know whether I could make it tonight because the Spousal Unit's shifts are so tiresomely erratic at the moment, and we are hosting our church's Lent study group at our house this year etc etc etc and and and...so complicated...but it's all fallen into place and I'll be there!
Now whatever shall I wear? These girls can dress.
I'm so excited about this, and so in love with my new car did I tell you I had a new car? Oh, I did? Would you like to hear more? that it's almost blotting out the full-body aches from Noddie's latest share-it-around phlegmfest, which if they don't go away will make Sunday's tri a bit of a pain, as it were oh dear oh dear oh dear...... but I'm sure they will. Drugs are good these days
More anon, incurable optimists!

Tempo

Just lately, life has been running at tempo rather than the adagio pace I prefer. I don't mind it, which is good because now that uni is in full swing and I persist in persisting with my mad endurance sport hobby, things won't be slowing down any time soon. I do prefer more pauses in a day, and less housework after dinner, oh well. Despite the volume and intensity, Masters-level study is great - after all those years of theory theory theory it's finally super-practical and relevant. I can picture myself doing this stuff!
I had the best day yesterday. I slept in a bit then went for a run, zoomed into the shower then off to church, then had lunch and a nap then spent the afternoon on the front step in the sun drinking tea and reading 50 marathons in 50 days that I got for my birthday. Of course now that means my 'study breaks' today will be spent washing dishes and stuffing washing in the machine and hauling it out to the line and back in again before the idiot dogs chew it. These things happen.
Exciting news - my darling peugeot hatch has finally reached the beyond-practicable-to-repair stage, so I've bought a (sort-of) new car! It's a 2007 Renault (another French car, what was I thinking?) with under 20k on the clock, much better than we thought we'd do with our budget. It's a snazzy pale gold colour called champagne, which is very apt for me *beams* I'll pick it up on Tuesday night. I can't actually picture myself in a sedan, and the soft clutch will take a bit of getting used to after driving a sports setup for so long, but I'm sure I'll manage LOL.
In other good news, the Grand Prix is over and the footy season has started, rather well as it happens. There's one more race this weekend to wrap up the triathlon season, which will be good fun if the weather holds. Then I can start to get my breath back!

Rejoice

Sorry if this is a bit garbled but I'm going to be super busy this week & most likely won't have time to post. I just wanted to make sure I always remember how happy I feel at this moment.
Today's race, with its decent swim, good bike and fairly tragic run, was brought to you by this quote from John 'the Penguin' Bingham's book The Courage to Start:
"we need to spend less time worrying about doing things well and more time rejoicing that we are doing them at all."
Ten years ago I walked with a cane and hoped I'd get better from from chronic fatigue syndrome if I didn't give up. My friend A still struggles to recovery from CF. Two years ago I'd just trashed my ankle and didn't know I was facing a reconstruction. My friend M would have loved to be out there today but can't race this season for medical reasons. I kept thinking of these things today, and of a comment Nancy once made: this is a get to do, not a have to do. I get to do triathlons with my strong healthy body, and you can't wipe the grin off my face.
Today I got third place - out of four!! (I hope your knee gets better soon, Jill) - and took out the series Athena championship. So far this season I've done six sprint triathlons, two Olympic distances and two ocean swims. It's been one of the best summers of my life! Special thanks are of course due to the Spousal Unit and Noddie for being the best cheer squad a woman could wish for *mwah*
Take it from me, kids: never, ever underestimate the power of optimism, perseverance and good friends.

Life is wonderful

So are good people. So is swag!(click and have a look - mine is red!)

More anon, blessing-counters!
And bring on Geelong!

Letting it go

Category leaders in the triathlon series I am doing have been invited to participate in their own wave, immediately following the elites. I am the leading Athena (70kg+ women. The male equivalent is Clydesdale, 95kg+) because I have raced more times than anyone else. My 40-point lead comes from gutting out two duathlons (yuck) on my own in the rain. Let's be honest here - I am big, and strong and determined, and I Am Slow. The thought of lining up with the skinnyfasts makes my stomach churn. Last summer I copped a huge amount of stick on a tri forum for campaigning that the Athena category should be included, or indeed that it should even exist. Anonymous, venomous nastiness about my weight and my fitness and my character. I know it came from a tiny minority and most triathletes a) are very encouraging or b) couldn't care less, but there have been times when the echoes of that hatefulness have made my hands sweat. I haven't let that experience stop me racing and I don't know why I am so apprehensive now.
Ok I do.
I'm afraid of scorn and judgement and people thinking that I don't belong on the course or deserve my podium. I'm afraid of what other people think. I'm afraid I don't deserve it.
Did I just write that?
Crikey.
*thoughtful pause*
You know what? It's easy to say (as J has, bless him) that I shouldn't worry about what other people think, and that the opinions of strangers don't matter. It is true, but it's not so easy to do.
However, we here at Chez LBTEPA are all about Doing the Hard Things and also Utterly Gratuitous Capital Letters.
All that #$% happened more than a year ago. It's been in my head for too long. As of now I'm officially Over It. I Hereby Let It Go.
* visualising screwed-up bits of paper with mean writing on it, floating out of sight on the wind* I'll be lining up in the series leader wave on Sunday. I earned my points and my podium and my prize and I'll be taking them. So there.

More anon, goddesses!
BTW, I don't think I am fat. I am happy about my body and what it can do. I am LBTEPA and I am fabulous

Race report: Victorian Olympic distance championships

1.5km/40km/10km
3.28.20
Rating: Very Pleased

There were many possible titles for this post
- it's better to fear pain than to fear failure
- training is cheating
- you call THEM jellyfish?
- enjoy every minute
- expletive deleted hills (I need more gears)
- the great sock disaster of 2009
- you’ll have to work harder than that to beat me!
- It’s not meant to be fun

Worry about the training I haven’t done this summer kind of hummed underneath everything during the week before the Victorian Olympic distance tri championships. The trouble was, I knew I could finish anyway – it was just a matter of how slow would I be and much would it hurt. This time last year I didn’t know that. Is it better to fear pain than to fear failure? Conclusion: yes.
I enjoyed the pre-race carbo dinner more than I did last year – for a start, the guest speaker was hilarious! Everyone was teeny and lean and scary looking (yes, I have issues! You knew that!) but I hugged memories of my two previous Olympic distance races tightly and they warmed me a little bit against the cold fear and doubt. Later that night, though, I was just about hyperventilating with terror. On the way in the door I said to Mum that I couldn’t do it, it was too hard, I was too old, too slow, too fat, too lazy and triathlon was a stupid sport anyway. She, bless her, just offered me an alarm clock so I wouldn’t sleep in. The Spousal Unit asked me why I did it at all if it was so awful? Wasn’t it supposed to be fun? I didn’t have an answer for him then but I worked it out next day. More on that later.
You have to walk along the river to the swim start. On the way I got chatting to a lovely bloke about how as a spouse, parent, student, employee AND triathlete, we have to deal with racing when our other priorities have meant that we haven’t done ‘enough’. While we strolled along, this obviously highly intelligent bloke made a Very Good Point, viz: EPO and other performance enhancing drugs are cheating because they give some people an unfair advantage. Training enhances performance too. Therefore people who train a lot are actually cheating. Fair play is important to me so I felt much better at once.
We slid into the cool brown river hmmmmahhhhh so nice…..A few la-las were making a fuss about the small number of teeny tiny non-stinging jellyfish floating about. As my five faithful readers will recall, I am oblivious to anything less than shoals of the creatures the size of my thigh so I sniggered to myself and enjoyed the last few moments before It Was On. It’s always hard to concentrate on working hard in the swim when there’s plenty of room and the surroundings are beautiful but I did my best and put it away in 26.49. Noddie and Mum were having a lovely time yelling and cheering me on. I decided not to wear socks during the ride – but then I was just about to get Minerva off the rack and realised I hadn’t put my shoes on either! Major DOH! There’s a reasonably steep rise at the beginning of the ride which is a good ‘get your head into it’ start. After that, before theHill Of Doom, there’s a stretch of quite rough bitumen which is a bit disheartening to the easily disheartened, i.e. moi. Luckily I’ve learned that disheartened = agitated = A Bad Time in more than one sense. My five faithful readers knowthat I am quite adept at conjuring Cheer The Heck Up for Goodness’ sake strategies out of thin air – but my friends, my friends! Sunday’s was the best ever. Want to know my secret to a good race? Shal I tell you? All right then…...I decided to enjoy every minute.
Yes.
It was that simple.
Enjoying every minute meant I never fell into the complaining/despair death-spiral. Enjoying every minute kept me from focussing on my quads and my glutes and, um, how can I put this? how much I’d have appreciated waterproof chamois butter ow ow ow and how everyone I’d beaten out of the water whizzed past me on the Hill of Doom as though we were in some weird time-slip sci-fi movie. If I may digress, though, this year the elites didn’t lap me until the 17km mark, a pleasing improvement on last year *beams*. Enjoying every minute also meant that I had about fifty seconds every minute left over to bitch and complain and moan. Perfect! Then I’d chortle at how hilarious I was, and keep riding.
It’s really hard to explain what it’s like in my head during an endurance event. It’s as though there are two LBTEPAs. The first is grit-her-teeth competitive, concentrating on technique and form and breathing and nutrition and Going Hard. The second is happily vague, oblivious to weather and hurt and shortness of breath, looking at the scenery and generally having a lovely time. In shorter races the former tends to dominate, but in longer events I am learning to almost retreat to that happy place and let Keen LBTEPA do her thing. Nuffy LBTEPA’s most important job during the ride is, of course, to Not Think About the Run. There’s a little pinch hill (aka short steep leg-burner mofo) right before you get back into town. Last year I slogged up it. This year I got up out of the saddle – yes, you read correctly! – and powered up it! On both loops! *pause for wild applause*
Another digression: after the race, my dad (a very good cyclist) looked at Minerva and did a double take. How did you get around there with only that many gears? You need more gears! Once I recovered from the (sort of) compliment, I passed this on to the Spousal Unit. I believe the Mothers’ Day present fairy is on the job.
Alas, it is now time to recount the great Sock Disater of 2009. I brought the Wrong Socks. They look very like my Good Racing Socks, which was how they were able to deceitfully pass themselves off as their brethren, but they are a bit too big. They don’t go on quickly, especially when you’re in a hurry and your hands are shaking a bit. If stuffed on in a hurry, the right one bunches up under your toes. Yes, my five faithful readers, you do well to gasp in horror. They bunch up. The day was warming up, my feet were already a bit damp, I had 10km to gut out and there would be a Krakatoa of a blister on the ball of my foot if this pedalian saboteur was not sorted out. I tried to wriggle it back into place as I ran but that didn’t work. There was nothing for it: after a couple of kms I had to stop althogether, untie my shoe and re-adjust my sock. Bugger! Ah well, preparation is part of triathlon. Live and learn, eh?
I met Pete B during this race last year. He’s 65 and a Spartan Legend and razzed me big time about coasting the downhills during the ride. We’ve chatted all summer at various tris and I knew he was racing. I was wondering where he had got to – could he have outswum me? I hadn’t seen him on the road – when, shortly after the sock fiasco had been resolved, he came into sight about 100m behind me. It Was On. Last year he was affected by the heat, but it was much milder today. I knew he’d catch me eventually but by crikey he was going to have to work for it. When he runs, Pete breathes with a distinctive hoo, hoo sound. We were by ourselves on the path along the backwater and I could hear it, getting closer and closer. Bring it on, old man, I grinned to myself, and I ran on. Through the flash housing estate we went. There was nothing but Hoo, hoo, and the slap slap slap slap of our feet on the footpath. I thanked all the marshalls and so did Pete. I was holding grimly to 7min kms, and km by km he was reeling me in. As we turned to run along the river I spoke to the marshall that guy behind me’s name is Pete – tell him he’ll have to work a bit harder to catch me!I never looked back. On and on I ran. It was like a dream. I didn’t want to blow up with 4km still to run and I didn’t want to leave anything in the tank, and I wasn’t quite sure how to manage it. It was beautiful by the river, which was good because I was starting to hurt. Form, balance, breathe….hoo, hoo....aha, here he comes, good on you Pete *grin*. In the distance I could see the swing bridge – and there were Mum and Noddie, screaming encouragement. I was so happy to see them! Pete put on a surge there and passed me just after we crossed it. Two and a half km to go… He took longer than I did at the drink station, and I caught him again. The run course goes past transition, which is rude, then up a very steep footpath, which is even ruder! I walked up it and so did Pete. Two km to go. We ran side by side along the street where my parents live. Mum and Noddie had left us the best surprise outside the house! Side by side we ran, around the corner and past the paddocks, around the next bend. One km to go... and the last hill, a short steep little mind-#$%*er of a thing. I started up it, then cracked. I had no 'vertical' left. I had to walk. A few steps later Pete said a rude word and did the same. Mum told me later she thought we were waiting for each other. We weren’t. It was still So On. It was great. I started to run again and so did he. I wanted to throw up. I wanted him to sprint away so I could cave. I wanted that finish line more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. We were laughing (as well as you can with no spare air) as we went around the last corner, side by side. A hundred metres to go, neither of us giving an inch, throwing it all at the line for 126^th place. The announcer saw us coming and started yelling like mad; the skinnyfasts sitting on the ground waiting for the presentations cheered and clapped. Could I take Pete? Did I have anything left? Did he? With twenty-five metres to go, somehow, somewhere I found a little bit more… and I was done. 3.28.21. Eight minutes faster than last year, and eight seconds outside my Olympic distance PB. That’ll teach me to bring the right socks. Pete and I hugged ewwww sweaty said Noddie and laughed and thanked each other for a great run. He's a legend in every sense.After trudging up the hill again noooooo! and shouting my faithful Sherpas to fish and chips, I fell like a stone into a deep pool of sleep and it was all over. The whole thing is like a dream now, a dream that makes me smile and walk taller when I think about it.
When I spoke to the Spousal Unit on the phone that evening I had an answer to his question. It's not meant to be fun*. It's meant to be satisfying, in the way that things that take effort and focus and guts are satisfying. And I am satisfied. I took my fears and issues and my not-enough training and my imagination and dreams and heart and I threw them at that race. I did better than I thought I could, and I had a great day - including a lot of fun - with people I love and admire.
I have hung the sign Mum and Noddie made in my study.
More anon, philosophers!

Bairnsdale Olympic Distance tri: done

After I'd ridden up and down those EXPLETIVE DELETED hills for nearly two hours, I didn't care that Pete is sixty-five and has run every single Melbourne marathon. I was going to make him work hard to beat me into second-last place.Thanks so much Mum and Noddie for being the best Sherpas ever *mwah!*More anon, ardent desirers of a long nap.

LBTEPA vs the NGE fairy

I was right - the BRW tri was a hoot! You have to rack your bike the day before, which is a pain because it’s more than an hour’s drive from our place when there's traffic. But it was fun to be part of the buzz of a whole footy oval covered in bikes, mountain bikes, road bikes, fully sick carbon bikes with disc wheels... Noddie and I had a dip in the bay too. Ever the optimist, I stopped at a triathlon shop on the way to look for a new top - and found one! The womens’ sizes were of course ridiculously small, but the mens’ XL was too big! The L was just right – not too loose to be a pest in the swim, should I take the plunge sans wetsuit, and long enough to cover the muffin top during the obligatory finish arm-raise! Thanks to the unexpectedly nice staff at SBR they must have got some new people since I was there last and thanks to Orca! Now make some in fetching chick colours and I’ll really approve of you. I met our third team-mate on Saturday as well, the fast, pretty, slender B, who was also funny and charming and works for a charity….yes I have issues. You knew that. Don’t judge me. It didn’t help that M was boasting up on me big time, going on about how I was Athena series leader and did half-marathons etc etc…it all just fuelled my impostor! You shouldn’t be here! neuroses. Damn PMS
Race day began at 1.00am and then again at 3.45am when poor Noddie had nightmares. That last hour of sleep would have come in really handy had it actually happened, sigh….. and maybe I wouldn’t have forgotten my transition towels and had to go back to get them. I reckon I rummaged in my bag for helmet, bike shoe, bike shoe, running shoe, running shoe, ok, I’ve got everything about a dozen times on the way there…but I’d definitely packed my thermos of tea so all was well. Clearly I hadn’t had enough tea though – I met B and G at our bikes; while they were all chatty and perky I felt sluggish and dopey and could barely form a coherent sentence. There were so many people milling around! In the drizzly half dark it was like a city of ghosts, lycra-clad ghosts exuding a faint air of panic. We set up ‘base camp’ (my picnic rug) at the back of the finishing grandstand, prime real estate when trying to keep track of each other over the day and to watch the finishers. When we went down to the beach to cheer B off, I still felt sluggish and stupid, but managed to appreciate the many fine, fine athletes galloping from the beach back to transition. All I felt like doing was sleeping so I went back to base camp for another cuppa, until M tactfully pointed out that I didn’t have long before speedy B got back. I heaved myself up and staggered down for a warmup swim, then squeezed into our transition corral. It was just nuts – thirty or forty anxious triathletes all jiggling from foot to foot, craning to see their first runner coming and yelling crazily when they did. Here came B! Fifty-five minutes! She smoked it! That was when I started feeling anxious and inadequate. The not-good-enough fairy was riding with me and try as I might I could not scrape her off.
The swim was argy-bargy and biffo from start to finish – don’t suddenly start doing breaststroke, don’t cut me off, mate, and stop hitting me! - but my stroke rate was up, my elbows were up and my blood was up. Grrrrrr! There was a bit of a side sweep but at least that meant I wasn't getting kicked. I rode a nice swell into the beach, whee!
This event should be called a runathlon with a bit of swimming and riding thrown in. It was at least 400m from the handover corral to the beach, then we had to run back the whooooole length of the the oval, then halfway back again to my bike, then run with the bike to the mount line….you get the picture I am sure. Thank goodness I’d taken the no-wetsuit option; I’d have suffocated running that far in neoprene.
M told me the thing she likes best about the BRW was that you actually get to pass people on the bike (she, like me, tends toward the back of the field), and oh, she was right! Of course there were the pointy-helmet disc-wheel people (and many many others) who zoomed past me like I was glued to the road, but I’m used to that. Mary’s wise words They’re pushing their envelopes, I’m pushing mine soothed me once again. My aim was to keep my pedalling cadence up as high as I could, just go as fast as I could the whole way, and worry about the run when I was running. That b#$%* not-good-enough fairy messed with my head during the ride. I was too slow. I was letting everyone down. Do it for M – she’d give her eyeteeth to be out here. Try harder. Ride harder. I got myself into such a state that I’m getting all blinky recalling it. Damn PMS.
The run from the dismount line to transition was so long that my legs were quite warmed up for the start of the run. For some reason I was very worried about running off while still wearing my helmet, but managed to avert that disaster. I took off like a very slow bat out of hell. Racing a lot has its advantages, I discovered: of course my legs hurt, of course I’m breathing hard, it’s all cool and it will be over soon. At one point, I was overcome with I’m so terrible at this I might as well walk, just once – and immediately, a bloke patted my shoulder and said 'keep running, you can do it!' So I did. I ran so hard I felt sick. It hurt. And I kept on going. Usually I use a “if you can’t keep it up, slow it down” policy – don’t walk, just slow down. Sunday was different. Team LBTEPA adopted a let’s see how long we can keep this up strategy. Just keep running I want to stop keep running I’m so slow I’m letting everyone down just count the lampposts, after ten you can walk for thirty seconds, I promise oooh there’s Nathan Buckley, hasn’t he kept in shape? keep running we’re nearly there, just keep running…
I ran and ran. I couldn’t see G in the handover corral and then there he was. Some swearing while I got the #$%& chip off and almost threw it at him and I was finished.

oh good I can stop running now

The Spousal Unit and Noddie were properly appreciative of how amazing I was, although J kept faffing on about active recovery and didn’t think I should get stuck in to the food until everyone had finished. Noddie took pity on me and gave me one of her sandwiches.

active recovery

G steamed home very impressively, the feast was, of course, magnificent (you’re a legend, M!) and the t-shirts were nice.

I was delighted to run across my friends EE and M in the partying crowd of lawyers and accountants. M had been cheering EE as he braved the waves before blitzing the bike and run, and they joined us at base camp for some more feasting. EE and G were so funny admiring each others’ new (fully sick carbon) bikes – incomprehensible component jargon flew thick and fast. I told Minerva not to worry, I still love her.
We went under three hours for the whole thing, which was great. B and G were thrilled; I was busy flicking the not-good-enough fairy off my shoulder. She'd been enough of a pain today. It was a long walk back to the car and when I got home I crashed like a stone for two hours.
Guess what? When the times were posted, it turned out I averaged 30km/hr for the bike, which is massive for me! *edit: bugger, my maths is as crap as my riding. The actual figures reveal close to my usual, ahem, speed.
Most fabulous of all, I ran SIX MINUTE KMS!!! That's a minute per k faster than my normal 5k speed! Take that, NGE fairy!
So there you go.

Ew sweaty

Now all I have to do is taper for the Olympic distance I'm doing this weekend....

It's NOT me, it's THEM

Wrongness #1
*conversation with my doctor who will not be remaining in this role earlier this week*
LBTEPA: As a person who's recovered from chronic fatigue syndrome, should I be worrying that whenever I get to a decent level of exercise, Noddie brings home a germ from school and I get sick?
Dr: you just shouldn't do so much exercise

Wrongness #2
*sms from LBTEPA to Spousal Unit this morning*
Have been to ( popular triathlon clothing manufacturer ) to get a new top for the BRW tri. Am obviously too tall and too FAT to do triathlons. HATE EVERYONE.

Hmmph. I am Athena, hear me sob pathetically and feel sorry for myself, I mean ROAAAAARRRR!
A rant: how stupid is the sizing when a strong healthy size 14 42 year old woman can't fit into a mens' XL? Should I be wearing a skintight midriff top with no bra coverage, or a cotton sack b/c I weigh more than 75kg? Well f#$% that, and f#$% them

The BRW triathlon is a hoot. 5000-plus Serious Corporate Types just oozing with Keen Competitiveness and Company Spirit (see you there Mark :P). It's a relay where each team member does the whole triathlon. This is the second time I've done the event; both times it's been as a last-minute fill-in! I'll be racing for my friend M, who is pregnant and forbidden to compete this summer. She promises to channel her her frustration positively by preparing a sensationally elaborate post-race picnic.

Uni starts this week. I've looked at my reading and assignment list. I AM PETRIFIED.

The dour tone and simple sentence construction of this post might be because I've given up soft drink for Lent and am missing the caffeine and sugar Big Time. It might not.
More anon, self-improvers!

a perfect swim

It was my sister-in-law's 40th last night so I wasn't sure whether I would be doing the Bay Swim this year. Priorities, my friends! I packed my swim bag before I went out, and decided that if I woke up by seven next morning, it would be on. After a bit of hmmm I'm not really awake yet am I? oh, I am... ok I'll look at the clock... it was 6.56. Fair enough. Fall out of bed, don the togs, slurp tea, drive to the beach and cough up the cash. It looked very promising when I got there - pretty flat and a little hazy cloud that would burn off later. The Spousal Unit and Noddie were away for the weekend; when I tried to ring them J's phone was off so I just left a message saying I was going for a swim and would try again when I was finished. As usual there were loads of tall wiry bronzed types in "I've been in harder swims than you" t-shirts, yapping on to each other about how soft Davo was only doing 11 hours at Busso. I just sat on the life saving club steps with my feet in the cool sand and waited for the start.
The water was warm, there was minimal swell or chop and the sun came out just as we started. Swimming in the sea makes me so happy - I just love that lovely bouyant feeling of being at one with the waves, way way off shore. The field rarely tops 200 so there's always a lot of room in this event. No kicking or argy-bargy (there could be some at the front; I have no knowledge of such matters): it's just a nice long swim that people who like to swim a long way like to do. Straight off the beach, turn right at the breakwater, cross the shipping channel and then head in through the marina so the nice people can help you up the ramp and unzip your wetsuit. Toooooo pleasant.
Except for the jellyfish. I had a moment of slightly unpleasant clarity at the party last night. I was explaining to a woman that jellyfish stings are pretty painful, but as long as you keep calm they're never really bad enough to stop you swimming. Then I noticed the look on her face, kind of horrified and repulsed....and I thought, I sound INSANE. That really shook me. What sort of lunatic must I be to deliberately swim out where there might be any sort of waves, it's 30m deep in places, and I know that I will be stung by jellyfish? What sort of person does that for fun? Don't answer that!
I didn't think about it this morning. I just thought about the waves and my stroke rate and how jellyfish sting like absolute #$%& and my catch and my kick and crap there are a lot of those little f#$%ers this year, ow ow ow and how pretty the sunshine was on the water and how lucky I was to be out there and how much jellyfish gave me the sh$ts and how nice it was to be feeling so strong all the way and oh, are we there already?
I didn't want it to be over. I think I did a pretty decent time, the first aid people had plenty of vinegar and ice, the fundraising* sausages were delicious and the t-shirt was nice. A perfect swim. Just perfect. Another golden bead on this summer's chain of memories-that-make-me-smile.
More anon, aquanauts!
*Otherwise I wouldn't have dreamt of having one no no no noooo

UPDATE: 3.2km (including jellyfish) - 1.02.28. GO ME!!

H9A, SU!

On Thursday it was nine years since I made the Spousal Unit the happiest of men. It's been super, darl. Mwah! Look! My dress still fits! Pardon? doesn't everyone dress up for their anniversary sushi picnic on the livng room floor?

Satisfaction

Race report: Gatorade 5 Elwood
Distance: 500/20/5
Time: 1.38.12
Rating: happy

The most satisfying thing about Sunday’s race – apart from a four minute PB for the distance, yippee! and Noddie coming along to watch, so great! – was racing with five other Athenas. So far this year it's been me, plus one other woman once; it was such a thrill to be in a group of athletes who don’t fit the skinnyfast tri-norm (bless their nimble little dri-fit socks), and have a red hot go nonetheless. I have looked forward to this day for so long. I hope they all come back, with friends!
Although she is somewhat vague about the difference between a triathlon and a half-marathon, Noddie was ever so excited about coming along. She was especially excited when we sat on the front step on Saturday evening to paint her very own bright red race nails, just like Mummy’s! So excited she was that she raced into our room at 5.15 on Sunday morning – a full hour early – convinced that it was certainly time to get up! At least she flaked it in our bed for another hour, sigh….
We hadn’t found my friend M or her partner super-speedy G by the time I had to set up transition. I thought the security people were just a teensy bit inflexible refusing to let Noddie into the transition area, but they were just doing their job and were lovely to her, appointing her as honorary bike number-checker. When we did find them, M revealed her nefarious plot – to feed Noddie red things all morning! Arrgghh! Her plan was a roaring success – or rather, a whingeing, screaming and arguing success. M and G are expecting their first child in August (congratulations darls! So happy for you!) and let me tell you, in about five years I will be paying them back Big Time. But I digress.
The Gatorade race director is a funny bloke. He does the start announcing and always asks for comments, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear a familiar little voice telling him I’d like to say, Race hard Mummy! Thanks Noddie! I was grinning as the gun went off and we charged in.
Ahem. It has belatedly occurred to me that possible explanations for my recent woeful swims might be a) hardly any swimming and b) doing all my training at drill pace (now where did I put that mensa application?). Thus the Plan for the swim was to trust the form created by all those drills, and keep my stroke rate up No Matter What. The water was nippy but quite pleasant – and so clear! So pretty! I concentrated on a strong catch and high stroke rate and pretty soon it was time to puff and pant up the beach to enthusiastic cheering from M and Noddie (actually just M: Noddie called out to tell me she’d had two jelly snakes already). For a moment it seemed that the bastard wetsuit wasn’t going to unzip, but my silent swearing at it did the trick and T1 was no more glacially slow than usual. Running on tippytoes in my fab new proper road bike shoes was funny! The nong who could neither get on his bike, nor stay out of the way of those who could, was not.
As you know, season 08-09 has been the summer of fit in whatever training I can and then show up and make the best of it on the day. I really felt that on Sunday. Everyone rode past me like I was tied to a tree – they always do, but today it upset me a little bit. I thought of Iron Mary’s wise words – I’m pushing my envelope, the others are pushing theirs and tried not to mind and to focus on what I was doing. It was a perfect day for a ride too, no wind, fairly cool, and the two-loop course was good because I could 'chunk it' – four times five km, even I can do that! I drank my water and ate my sport beans and kept on pedalling with my fab new proper road bike shoes. M and Noddie screamed encouragement (Noddie: M bought me a babychino!) and then I was at the dismount line, almost failing to unclip, but not quite. Time to run.
My knee hurt at the start of the the run - WTF? My foot hurt too! And my neck hurt! WTF?I caught myself thinking that I just wasn’t feeling it today. Whoa! Bleat alert!! Bleat alert! Now now, I thought, this Will Not Do. I could wallow in crapitude or I could…not. Time to find my happy place, quicksticks. Time to bring out the relaxed form that I had practiced all those mornings. Time to tell myself to shut the f#$% UP because I didn’t come here to listen to your WHINING has this been a bit of a theme in my races this season?…hmmm…. Relax, breathe, balance…. I was too tired to sing my usual little song but when I felt like walking I’d remind myself if you can’t keep it up, slow it down. Hold your form, just hold your form….One cool thing happened during the run – the fifth Athena (wouldn’t that be a good movie?) only passed me at the halfway mark! I’m usually stone motherless last by the first lap of the bike! It was good to see the finish arch, and even better to see M and Noddie yelling and waving (Run Mummy run! I had some chips!). I was so delighted to see them I rushed up and gave Noddie a big kiss, then ran over the timing mat. I didn’t need those five seconds. Even after three huge cups of Gatorade, I felt bone weary and had a foul headache, but I was determined to stay and cheer the Athena presentations. Yay Jana! Great win! You rock!
Post-race activities included a belated birthday lunch at a café with M and G and Secret Sara (who is off to do the Paris half-marathon in two weeks!!!), crawling home through a traffic jam with a wired and cranky Noddie, and crashing so heavily on the couch that I didn’t hear the Spousal Unit come home.
Question for the week: will I do a 3.5km ocean swim the morning after my sister-in-law’s fortieth birthday party? Decisions, decisions….
More anon, rolling stones!

Smoky

Red sky at night is a shepherd's delight
Red sky in the morning is a shepherd's warning
Red sunrises and sunsets and smoky brown skies mean the wind has changed and we're all constantly reminded of the bushfires. Thankfully, although there are many fires still burning, the emergency is over. One firebug, aka murderous m&#$erf&*%ing son of a #$%& who will ROT IN HELL has been caught and the police are closing in on the others. It would be easy to blame all of the tragedy on arsonists, but many of the fires started from natural causes. Anger and blame are natural responses; I pray that this energy can be channelled constructively rather than becoming divisive bitterness.
One of J's staff and his wife were killed and another couple lost everything. His employers have been magnificent. The place has been crawling with counsellors and senior managers; other stores have sent over staff to cover for people who want time off; flowers arrive daily from former workmates. J has spent so much time on the fund-raising sausage sizzle that he may never eat another snag - but they've raised $9000 in five days. People are dropping a $50 into the tin to pay for a $2 sausage. There's a numb, drained feeling wherever you go. No-one really knows what to do - we buy wipes and bibs and tampons and non-perishables and go through our wardrobes and toy boxes for things to donate, but it seems so little under the circumstances. The Spousal Unit and I have been doing a fair bit of comfort eating, drinking and movie-watching. I went three days in a row without exercising !!!???!!! but I'm (mostly) cool with that - I'd have had to leave J to put Noddie to bed and she's been a bit feral. This morning I was a happy passenger again on the 5.30am bus. Running then is cool and quiet. Nice.
Tomorrow I'm racing again! It's been two months since I laced on a shoe in anger, apart from that little outing last month. Thanks to my kind friend M, who loves children even if they're not hers, Noddie will be coming along to watch, yay!Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. Love is precious - treasure it and spread it around!
More anon, mes ami. Mwah!