The Rest of the Race

After the aforementioned swim in English Bay (Vancouver: The Swim), there was still a 40 K (about 24 mile) bike ride followed by a 10 K (about 6 miles) run before this race would be over. Transition 1 started OK, but I slowed down after the longish run to my bike, was a bit sluggish pulling of the wetsuit, decided to wear socks and a windbreaker because of the cool weather but finally got going with my bike for another longish run out of the transition area. I think my T1 was about 7 minutes which is a very long time.

I started the first of 4 loops around Stanley Park and as I expected, got passed regularly by the younger women who were already out on the course doing their 2nd, 3rd or 4th laps (having started their race up to an hour before my wave went out). By my 2nd lap I expected to see the older women's wave coming onto the course and by the 3rd lap, I was sure the men would be passing me in droves. But this never happened. Each lap got less crowded and I suspected the race had been suspended. I'd later find out that after my wave had gone out for the swim, the swim had been cancelled for the remaining waves (the women 55 and older and all the men) due to adverse weather conditions.

I practically had all of Stanley Park to myself with the shivering volunteers half-heartedly cheering me on. My riding is what I'd call a hard workout, but I never really felt like I was racing. The swim had taken a lot out of me and I just wasn't feeling competitive. A few women in my age group passed me (in addition to those younger ones). Sad to say, the only riders I passed were a few AWAD's cranking along in their racing wheelchairs. My heart rate was up in the low 160's, which is where it normally would be in a race when I feel I'm pushing hard on the bike. So I guess I wasn't slacking too much.

(There I am checking out the course the day before the race; definitely slacking here). - >

On to T2 with that being significant only because I could see that, yes, the race was continuing and not cancelled and I would now have to go run. I thought maybe I'd snap out of this flat race I was having and be able to pass some able-bodied woman in my age group.

I wanted to start the run under control and not go out too fast. Since I had not trained enough to do an Olympic race anywhere near my best, I was OK with keeping the running going however I needed to, even at a comfortable jog if need be. In the first 1/2 mile I started to struggle - my tank felt empty, no energy was in me. When running gets hard (and it's almost always hard, but when it gets really hard...) I start my "I will not stop, I do not walk" mantra. That has gotten me up many a hill. At about 3/4 mile, my mind said "I will walk, I will walk". Soon my body followed and when the next water station came along, I took a breather. The little walk break didn't help for long, the rest of my so-called race now became a series of "Just make it to the next water stop" or "Just don't stop to walk in front of this crowd of spectators". I had mentally thrown in the towel and I was just dead tired.

Thinking back, I had drunk only about 1/2 of the sport drink during the bike (I normally would have drunk it all, providing some extra calories for the run to come). The fatigue in the run came around the 2 hour point in my race and assuming I probably burned extra calories in the cold and churning swim, I think I basically "bonked".

In endurance sports, particularly cycling and running, bonk or hitting the wall describes the condition when an athlete suddenly loses energy and becomes fatigued, the result of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles becoming depleted. The average human body stores enough glycogen to generate 1500 to 2000 kcal of energy. Intense cycling or running can easily consume 600-800 or more kcal per hour. Unless glycogen stores are replenished during exercise, glycogen stores will be depleted after 2 hours of continuous cycling or 15 to 20 miles (24 to 32 km) of running.
- Wikipedia

Bonk or no bonk on the run, that couldn't have been my excuse for the mediocre bike ride. And what's with letting myself get depleted in the first place? I think I should know better.

See this really slick hydration system (the aero-water bottle that I have to rubber band, stick a cut-off cup bottom over and secure with strapping tape)??? That mess contained the Cytomax I was supposed to be drinking. And speaking of aero-anything, the only time I was going fast enough for some sort of "aero" position to be helpful was on the downhills when my hands needed to be on the brake levers. I ought to get rid of those aero-bars.

I walked more and more, as frequently as every 1/4 mile, towards the end. Though I didn't really relish the thought of coming in last (which was getting to be a very real possibility), the good news is, I enjoyed myself. I chatted it up with the friendly race volunteers and cracked jokes with them as I sipped my Gatorade and watched yet another straggler on the course get ahead of me. This was no longer a race (I don't know that it ever was a race, for me). The sun was finally out, all I had to do was finish the course so why not enjoy it rather than suffer?

The hardest part was the long finish chute where I did not want to walk (neither did I feel the need to put forth some ridiculous and meaningless finishing surge). I crossed the finish line and was welcomed by more race volunteers who flattered me with congratulations and asking me how my race went (you get that 1:1 attention when you are trickling in at the end of the pack). I felt happy to swallow my pride, blab away with a few of them and laugh at myself.

This was not a race for me to have been competitive or to seek any PR's. But I did expect to actually RUN the entire run and maybe pass a few people. That I didn't was a combination of 3 important things: insufficient training, insufficient calorie intake (the bonk) and mentally giving up. When I later checked my heart rate monitor, I saw my HR max was 187. It's never been that high before (the late stages of a hard race and maybe it's in the low 180's). Something was up with this body of mine. After the race, I collected my gear, rode my bike around Vancouver's waterfront while there was a bit of sunshine, eventually showered, then enjoyed a Mojito with Sandy. On to the reception and snacks for Team USA and I was feeling fine. No sore muscles or unusual fatigue that day or the next. Go figure.

Last I looked, final results STILL are not posted, now 2 weeks later. But my time was about 3:01 with the 10K "run" being around 1 hr. My best indicator of how I "should" have done is by looking at the times of two local women who I've raced against several times. Both Sandy L. and Debbie G. consistently finish within 3-4 minutes of me. In this race they were about 30 and 35 minutes ahead of me. They could be stronger than ever, but even so, had I been able to have something closer to my normal race, I think I should have finished somewhere nearer to them, which would have put me, as it did them, about mid-pack for our age group. I would have been quite pleased with that outcome! But my 3:01 put me last for the American 50-54 women and probably 57th out of about 66 for all women in our age-group (again, the final results are pending).

Favorite road-trip CD? Into the Wild by Eddie Vedder for sure.

I still don't know what my goals are for this '08 season. I'm not all that focused and that's OK, I have other important things to do this summer. But I will not take for granted any of last season's successes now. I better appreciate how the hard work and the time taken training plus the setting of goals added up to some good past seasons.

Whilst I was road-tripping home on Sunday afternoon and clicking a photo of myself driving with the bike in the back of the car ( the photo above), I accidentally snapped this picture of the inside of my car. There, pinned to the ceiling, is a photo of me and my pal Darcy in a happy, smiling moment at the finish of another triathlon a few years ago. And there, see that circular thing that says "USAT"? That was quite an unexpected surprise. A month or two ago I received that patch and a certificate in the mail from USAT. Apparently my '07 ranking earned me "the distinction of an All American Honorable Mention" according to the certificate.

OK then, one bad race be damned! I'll interpret this accidental photo as a message! Get to work then go out and try again another day. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Vancouver: The Swim

The International Triathlon Union (ITU) World Championships were held in Vancouver, B.C. last week, June 3 ,4, 5 and 6. Each day included races for different categories of athletes including Juniors, Under 23, Elites, AWAD (“Athletes With A Disability”) and my group, the Age Groupers (for both a sprint and an olympic distance race). Triathletes came from all over the world making for an interesting mix of languages, accents and team uniforms. The Age Groupers for Team USA numbered about 400, with around 20 being in my age group (about 67 total from all countries).

I got the car all packed, found my passport and started a little Road Trip.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog entries, I had concerns about facing the cold water in English Bay in Vancouver and I knew my lack of consistency and volume (hours per week) in training would limit my race. Still, I aimed to have fun, get in a good workout, accept the certainty of a race without any PR’s and enjoy the experience of being part of group of internationally accomplished age-group athletes (even though some part of me wasn’t convinced that I really deserved to be there, I did qualify fair and square).

The afternoon of my arrival to Vancouver and the next day involved team pictures, a team meeting, team dinners and breakfasts, riding the bike course around Stanley Park and racking the bike in the transition area. I met many new Team USA people (most seemed to be from warmer climates and didn't quite know what to make of the 50 degree rain). I saw Dave and Francie, the couple I'd met at Nationals a year ago and recognized some others from last year as well.

Finally race morning arrives! After setting up my transition area and going for a jog, it was time to head for the beach.

I wanted to take a picture of some spectators. Many were bundled up in fur-trimmed parkas, wore thick gloves and winter boots. And here we were about to swim in this cold, grey water followed by a bike ride in skimpy wet lycra.

Slaying Dragons

Camera crews were here and there at the beach. As I waited in the corral before going onto the beach, one big lens was in my face (ugh! I go mute when asked anything in front of a camera). The cameraman asks me something about the race or why I am doing this to which I answer: “I’m here to slay my personal dragons…I’m going to face that water”.

HUH??? What the heck is she talking about? That probably ended up on the editing room floor. But actually, I had thought about this metaphor before, my dragons being things like Fear, Doubt, Pride, Laziness. Fear about facing the cold and the discomfort of racing, of looking slow, inept, old, ridiculous; doubt about my abilities and about my business to be here; pride having to do with some self-imposed pressure to improve my own performance and maybe not being able to do so. Also pride being the impulse to just give up rather than have a mediocre or even a bad race. And laziness - staying in a warm bed sure seemed appealing that morning! Those dragons and others are part of the human experience that I believe visit all areas of our lives at times (except for a few egomaniacs and those with delusions of grandeur who crash arrogantly through life). Athletic competition provides practice in slaying dragons.

(No actual dragons were harmed in the race or the writing of this blog. Any resemblance to actual dragons is purely coincidental. The author neither endorses nor condones mistreatment of actual dragons, and apologizes to any dragons that may take offense at the metaphorical use of "slaying dragons".)

Cold…

The big topic of the weekend was the weather! Even for the Pacific Northwest, it was unseasonably cool. Because of the cold weather and many hypothermia cases in the Thursday and Friday races, race officials shortened the Saturday AG swim from 1500 meters to 1100. Each day of the championships had some combination of cool, wet and/or windy conditions. My Age Group wave was the lucky one to experience all 3 and to such an extreme that just after they sent us out for our swim, the swim portion was canceled for the remaining Age Groupers, 2/3 of the pack consisting of women 55 and older and ALL of the men. For these groups, the race converted to a Duathalon (run 5K, bike 40K, run 5K), which caused much grumbling in some and much relief in others.

(This picture is the next day just before the Elite women started. They had calm water as you can see. And a lot more photographers clamoring around the start line.)

The water temperature reports varied from 11 degrees Celsius to 12.8 depending on what news source you got (that’s 51.8 to 55 degrees Fahrenheit). Air temperatures were in the low 50’s and who-knows-what with the wind chill. Any way you slice it, that’s darn chilly by most OW swim standards. I kind of think 55 was closest to accurate for my swim. The cold water wasn’t painful on my face and was tolerable once I started swimming.

…and Wind

The canceling of the swim was not due to mere chilly water, however. The wind picked up suddenly about 1 hour before my race and increased in intensity as my start time of 8:05 a.m. approached. All across English Bay, there were white caps and swells. The waves crashing on the beach weren’t too bad, but the buoys and boats rocked wildly offshore. One news report I read later mentioned “adverse weather conditions”, “nasty 5 foot wind-chop”, “raging currents driving swimmers towards shore”, and “moiling water” (online definitions for “moiling” include: to churn about continuously; confusion, turmoil; violently agitated; turbulent). Here’s an article: http://www.insidetri.com/article/71453/cold-water-high-waves-throw-itu-age-group-world

I later chatted with a swim volunteer who said the rescue boats (and there were precious few of them for those conditions!) pulled around 20 women out from my wave and the boats were capsizing in the surf! I found this clip on You Tube showing a few seconds of the waves during the swim exit for an earlier wave of swimmers: Waves:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=889400540020585501&q=Vancouver+triathlon+2008&ei=B9JMSJuyBqCm4QLS8bWMDA&hl=en

Here’s my experience in the water: God Awful! For some insane reason, I found myself front and center at the start line (around 130 women, age 45 to 54). Even in a small local race where I’m likely do well in the swim, I avoid front and center. At Worlds I should have been off at the edges and definitely not in front. The gun went off (kind of hard to hear as the neoprene cap and second, colored swim cap kind of muffled sound) and we ran into the surf, diving into the swell. I’m on auto-pilot for a few moments and swim hard out of excitement.

(This photo - not my own - is from the Elite women's race on Sunday, a much smaller group and I notice none of them wear the neoprene caps that many of us had. Made of tougher stuff, I guess.)

Something Resembling Swimming

Excitement turns to near-terror for a few moments as I realize this ain’t no normal swim. Next, it was just bewildering (time for another online definition; bewilder: to cause to lose one's bearings; to perplex or confuse especially by a complexity, variety, or multitude of objects or considerations). The agitated water was a challenge (what I’m doing barely resembled or felt like normal swimming and it took my full attention to avoid freaking out about this somewhat alien environment). All the flailing bodies make me realize I just need to get the hell out of the pack. I accomplished this by moving forward and diagonally and allowing them to go around me. Thankfully, no one tried to swim OVER me, (maybe my defensive kicking kept that at bay). I think getting pushed under would have put me over the edge on managing this. I needed to stop and breast stroke plenty of times in the first couple minutes and less so as I got some space around me.

Be The Dolphin

Soon I get into as close to a steady rhythm as swimming in a washing machine can allow. My goals were to just keep moving forward, avoid swallowing/inhaling too much salt water, avoid nausea or vertigo if possible and stay in control of my mind to avoid pushing any panic buttons. Stroke timing was mostly dictated by the rise and fall of waves and I felt rolled about. I can’t say that I swam all that hard as I didn’t want to go to the edge of breathlessness and fatigue. I felt like I needed some reserve for the occasional smack of salt water in the face that robbed me of a breath when I wanted one. The pack was very spread out and I could tell I was closer to the rear. Which was ok with me. Being bewildered and all, I forgot my mantra "Be the Dolphin" (a team dinner 2 nights earlier was held at the Vancouver Aquarium where I enjoyed the underwater viewing tank and watching dolphins dart around. I thought visualizing that grace, speed and ease would be a nice thought for the race. Nice thought).

Turning towards shore, the waves now helped by pushing me along. My hand felt the bottom, then I was raised by the surf and lost contact. Next thing I know, I’m abruptly dumped onto my knees in 6 inches of receding waters. Sensing my opportunity, I scurried out before the next surge could catch me. I was surprised by the lack of dizziness and ability to immediately run, unzip and pulled off cap and goggles and I headed into T1.

Lisa Walker (45-49), Tracy Orcutt (40-44) and Sandy Laurence (50-54) are racing acquaintances from the Seattle area who had good races that started with good solid swims. Lisa and Tracy are usually tops in their age groups and usually earn overall podium finishes and Sandy is no stranger to the podium for our AG. Final results are still pending, but I'm sure congratulations are in order to each of them and I hope they are pleased with their races.

Next: Transition 1 and beyond…stay tuned.

There is Dave C. from California, our unofficial USAT cheerleader. He kind of badgered me into staying in the race when I was close to pulling out last April.

Birthdays and A Swim

Another birthday just went by, but it wasn't an "Aging Up". Those only come every 5 years.

Speaking of 5 years, this is my fifth -- >

I had no special plans for The Big Day, May 31, so decided to join a group of OW swimmers for a swim around Seward Park. Some women get a nice facial, a pedicure, a massage or wined and dined on their birthday. Me? A cold, grey swim over milfoil and mossy submerged tires in the lake was the event of the day this year.

Actually, some of the swimmers from the "Phinney Ridge Swim Club" decided to make this swim a fund raiser to coincide with a walking event going on at Seward Park that day to support clean drinking water (and how clean is the water that invariably gets swallowed by me each time I swim?). http://www.water1st.org/involved/carry5.html

< -- My first birthday. My brother Tommy was born 9 days later. If you ask my mom about the ages of her 2 kids, it's not that we are "a year apart", which could imply a year and 6 months maybe, or a year and 10 months. She will always say "A year and 9 days apart" then follow up with a comment about having a one-year-old underfoot and a newborn about to arrive. Just in case you weren't clear on the fact that she had her hands full and they were about to get fuller: "A year and 9 days". Maybe that's why I stopped at one child.

As one of the swimmers reported later, "we raised over $700 for this event and the organizers were delighted, surprised, and amused by the 9 members who showed up in wetsuits. It was flat and chilly water but we all finished within 1:10, a good result for an early season swim of that distance."

My brother Tommy and me on my 2nd birthday -- >

<-- My 4th birthday!

Fund raising for good causes is all fine and dandy, but I needed another dip in cold water to feel ready for next weekend's swim up in Vancouver and a longer swim would be a good idea too.

This is my brother Tommy literally diving into his first birthday cake. Most likely we've got some sibling rivalry already going on as some push/shove happens to gain access to the cake -- >

...and below, Tommy is ready to attack another cake on his second birthday.

I was told circumnavigating Seward Park is about 2.5 miles, making the swim an "over-distance" kind of workout since the distance for next week's race is about 0.9 mile or 1500 meters. Lake Washington was 58 degrees as of May 27 and was probably near that for this swim. And how do I know this? Here is a link for local beach information, things like weekly temperatures, beach closures, e. coli and fecal coliform counts (doesn't that chocolate cake look yummy?) - details you might or might not wonder about before going out to the lake:

http://dnr.metrokc.gov/wlr/waterres/swimbeach/BeachData.aspx?locator=0813SB

I was the slow swimmer of the day. Some fast, strong swimmers lead the group and others wore fins (I didn't; I'm not used to them and so they tend to give my feet cramps). Anyway, the water felt just right after the initial minute or two of getting used to the cold.

This is from my 50th birthday last year - - >

Later that evening I enjoyed going out for pizza (not just any pizza, but "Serious Pie" which dishes up some seriously tasty pie) and drinks with my friend Patty, her girls and Camille and Camille's dad.

It was a low key, pleasant birthday with no expectations, so, no disappointments.

Tommy just turned 50 on June 9 and I hope he had a good birthday.

Vancouver Sneak Preview

It will take me a bit longer to prepare my Race Report from last weekend's race in Vancouver, the World Championships. That's me with the blue shoulder stripes on the left - >

Perhaps you, my audience (all 3 of you), can help me by choosing an apt title for the upcoming blog post. Consider it a sneak preview of how my race went, but here are some options for titles and sub-titles (feel free to offer your own). Just go ahead and enter a comment so I know someone is out there:

• Vancouver Kicked My Butt
• Something Resembling Swimming
• Kept It Under the Panic Level
• Agitation Cycle
• Capsizing Rescue Boats (the surf did it, not me)
• A Slice of Humble Pie
• Slaying My Dragons: Fear, Doubt, Pride
• Lap 4 of the Bike Route a Ghost Town
• Passed NO ONE on the Bike
• Something Sometimes Resembling Running
• Lessons In Under-Training
• The Courage To Be Last
• A Shadow of My Former Self
• Getting to Know the Friendly Volunteers
• Making Excuses
• Throwing in the Towel
• My So-Called Race
• Is This Bonking?
• I DID IT!

Europe Trip (continued)

Part II
Paris
May 25-27, 2008

Our saddle-sore cycling adventurers now were speeding through the French countryside. Having departed Strasbourg after a final 35 mile leg of biking, they were bound for Paris on the TGV (train à grande vitesse, or "high-speed train"), munching a baguette and cheese. The bikes had been disassembled, folded and re-stowed back into their Samsonite suitcases. The train traveled at up to 200 mph to cover the 300 miles in about 2 hrs. 15 min. I think I knew some people in college who traveled the similar distance from Seattle to WSU/Pullman in close to the same time.

A bit of culture shock awaited me at the Gare du Nord, the big train station in Paris where we disembarked. I can’t remember now what I expected of Paris…probably tree-lined boulevards, charming sidewalk cafes, the Seine with the famous bridges and all that postcard stuff. It exists somewhere in that city, but my first meeting with Paris was something more like New York City. Busy, noisy, crowded, dirty and chaotic. Well, maybe not chaotic if you are used to it, but it seemed overwhelming to me with new road signs that I can’t read, traffic rules I can only guess at and certainly some etiquette details I was unaware of as car, bike and pedestrians mixed and mingled on these narrow, crowded streets.

In the plaza area in front of Gare du Nord, we reassembled the bikes and hitched the suitcase-on-wheels trailer and were ready to roll. Again I wonder: can I do a quick shirt change stripping down to my jog bra? Of course, women topless sunbathe here, but what unspoken rules will again make me stand out like the foreigner that I am? Oh well, if Mia Hamm can do it, so can I (actually, this is Brandi Chastain, another soccer player; I always thought the famous jog bra shot was Mia until I googled this photo). But I digress.

It was about a 2 mile uphill ride to the backside of the kinda seedy Montmartre arrondissement. It was around 5 p.m. on a warm sunny afternoon and the streets were hopping with all sorts of activity. Even with the narrow streets, confusing intersections and lack of consistent pattern to following signals (as far as I could tell), drivers still seemed to yield well to bikes. Much of the time there was a bike lane physically separated from cars/peds by curbs or railings. We checked in at the hotel where I’m told that the room was spacious by Paris standards since you had maybe a 2 foot margin to walk around the bed instead of having to walk over it. The shower required a turning-sideways motion to squeeze into the stall.

After a blessed hot shower, it was time to explore the neighborhood. Three steep flights of steps and a couple steep streets and we were atop Montmartre, one of the 2 hills in otherwise flat Paris. Sacre Couer was the attraction up there. Boy, did I ever just roll off the pumpkin cart! I was surprised at the hoards of tourists covering the place like ants on… well, an anthill(feel free to offer a better metaphor). But then famous phrases like “Springtime in Paris” or “Paris in May” come to mind.

Sacre Couer was the first of my many visits to famous sites. I had all of the next day to myself to explore and the routine went sort of like this: walk to site, look at it, think “uh huh, yep, that’s pretty impressive, I do believe I’ve seen pictures of that before, I can see that it is famous and kind of awesome”. Then with little more than a 10 second pause and wanting to avoid the hoards (and certainly not get in any long lines to see the innards of these places), I’d move on to more miles of walking to the next quick stop at the next famous site or other.

In this manner did I “visit” Sacre Couer, Arc d’ Triumph, Avenues des Champs Elysees, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame and some of those bridges with famous sculptures that I didn’t bother to look up the names for. Speaking of the Louvre (which I wasn’t exactly speaking of), I walked through the Jardin des Tuileries which, according to my map, is a mere block west of the Louvre. That “block” seemed to stretch for 3 football fields. That “jardin” - I didn’t get it- it was packed dirt with rows and rows of trees in a straight line. It wasn’t very pretty or appealing. Maybe I was strolling up the service path or something?

Over and over on my walking tour I underestimated the distance between the sites. I set out that morning thinking I’d hop on one of the rental bikes from one of the “dispensers” around town and do some cruising and sightseeing on 2 wheels. I would have loved to, but the dispenser didn’t like my credit card. Merde! (It’s a pretty cool idea, check it out: Paris Embraces Plan to Become City of Bikes ). So I hoofed it for hours and miles in my pretty but not very functional “Athena sandals” as I like to call them.

The area around the Eiffel Tower was nice. A few blocks away was a relatively quiet and clean neighborhood that seemed sort of residential. I enjoyed checking out little stores and boulangeries. Ah ha! And this area, or arrondissement is rue Cler, I just discovered as I checked Rick Steve’s Best of Europe guide. He recommends it and he describes it like this: “Lined with open-air produce stands six days a week, rue Cler is a safe, tidy, village-like pedestrian street.” Well, on a future trip maybe I’ll stay there.

By lunchtime, I’m catching on to the great subway system. I needed to be in another part of the city to meet my friend for lunch, so it was time to negotiate my way to the Metro, as the Paris subway is called. After a brief learning curve figuring out the purchasing of tickets, reading the route maps and connections and oh yeah, finding a station (I think they’re kind of hard to spot) I got hip to zipping around town. I felt like a pro feeding my ticket in the dispenser and retrieving it as it popped out the other side, then crashing through the turnstile, hurrying down corridors and stairwells into the echoing bowels of Paris (How’s that for an attractive description? Really makes you want to go there, oui?). I got the knack of hearing the sound of an arriving train or noticing the people around start to run and I would follow, hop on with seconds to spare before the doors snapped shut. There is no margin for dallying; these subways are prompt; it stops, people quickly pour out and then board, the buzzer gives a brief warning and that’s it - the doors close and it speeds off to the next stop. It was fun, probably because I never missed a train, boarded the wrong one or was pick-pocketed, otherwise I’d be singing a different tune.

The morning of my full day of Paris, with all the walking was sunny, cool and windy. I was wishing I’d worn jeans and my running shoes instead of a skort and sandals. By afternoon it was raining pretty hard (all the better to liquefy and rinse away the doggie droppings one must watch out for on the sidewalks, especially when one is wearing their pretty Athena sandals). I did have my fine orange Arc’teryx rain shell on so I wasn’t totally ill-equipped.

My extensive grasp of the language was this: “Bonjour”, “merci” and “Parlez-vous anglais?” and just to limit communication even more, I’d always seemed to mumble it due to feeling self-conscious about my feeble attempt. Despite the Parisians usually downplaying their grasp of English (or just wanting to make me work a little harder), they usually had no problem with the basics.

A stop at a bar near the hotel before turning in for the night was in order on my first night. The bartender later said I had the deer-in-the-headlights look as I stared mutely at the drink menu. He leaned over the bar and in a fine New York accent said “Whadalyahave?” Yeah, he was a transplanted New Yorker (they can be as foreign-seeming to a Pacific Northwesterner as Europeans are).

Food. Paris is famous for it, but I was unimpressed with the small sampling I tried. Oh sure, fromage et pain is all fine and dandy, but who wants that all day? And I don’t do meat, and certainly not mollusks or amphibians. After a disappointing dinner the night before, a so-so breakfast and disappointing lunch that day, I decided to stick with what had provided the best of eating in my limited experience so far: boulangeries. I sampled freely from several bakeries the rest of the afternoon and into the evening trying pretty and tasty pastries and breads, probably taking in a good 3000 calories in doing so. And to be fair, my last dinner was pretty good. I was frustrated again at the dearth of vegetarian offerings (every salad I had was just plain boring, the crepe I ordered turned out to be a crusty, icky omelet…) and at this last place had the option of salad or mac n’cheese. I wasn’t willing to try any more salads, so went with Mac n’ cheese (since there was no offering of a healthy, fresh veggie dish like I was hoping for). But this wasn’t Kraft Mac n’ cheese, it was definitely tasty and probably provided another too-generous helping of calories to top of the afternoon bakery stops.

Early on my final morning, I went to the Metro one last time, dragging the suitcase with bike inside and other travel duffel bags as I headed for the airport. I transferred to the RER, a train that stops at Charles De Gaulle airport. I breezed through the open gate following everyone else, wondered briefly why some people were going through the turnstile with tickets. What the hell, I’ll just go through the open gate, I thought. Well, at the other end, a ticket was needed to get you through the last turnstile to exit the train station and I didn’t have one, nor did I see a ticket dispenser in sight to try and make good on having gotten by with a free ride. Despite my usual honest streak, I looked furtively around and then crawled underneath the stile dragging my bags behind me. Whew! No one saw! I made my escape back home to Seattle and was welcomed by wonderful sunny spring weather.

Bike Trip to Germany & France

PART I

Biking the Rhein River Valley

May 21-25, 2008

Guten Tag! Bonjour! I am recently returned from a quick vacation to Germany and France. I was convinced of the impossibility of making such a trip at this time, citing expenses, lack of preparation for such a big adventure, my upcoming race in early June that I’ve been neglecting to train for and some restrictions on my time with a 12 year old daughter to tend to. But I finally realized what a good opportunity this was: my daughter was to be out of town with her dad for a good portion of that time anyway; I found a good deal on airfare; my friend who has experience doing lots of bike touring in Europe and elsewhere was going anyway, offering to play tour guide and loan me his spare foldable bike (yeah, it really does fit in a suitcase); biking through Germany and France would be a difficult thing to plan by myself and it sounded like a great way to visit the area. So I jumped on the chance to do it.

Day 1

I arrived in Frankfort, Germany early Thursday a.m. with this 49.5 lb Samsonite suitcase containing the Bike Friday (and another 40 lbs. of duffle bags and gear). I met my friend Saul who flew in from San Diego several hours later and soon we were on the train head for Mainz, a suburb 20 minutes outside of Frankfort.

This was my first time assembling the bike and it was easier than I thought it would be. Bonus the flat tire I got to fix before even riding (yes, I did check the tires and inflated them prior to leaving Seattle). At this point I’ve been awake for about 24 hours and am a bit disoriented being in a new place and needing to figure out the simplest of things like going to the bathroom (first you pay the attendant in the “WC” and I had to ask him to break a $20.00 for me to be able to have the small change in Euros I needed) or wondering whether it is socially acceptable to publically strip down to jog bra to change cycling shirts. Oh well, I resign myself to sticking out like a sore thumb and being a clumsy American about things.

Traffic seemed kind of busy and I was further disoriented by the road signs (Are we going up a one-way street? Who yields here?) and getting used to the feel of this odd bike towing the suitcase now converted into a trailer and weighing easily 70 lbs. Within a few blocks we found quieter streets and the town square to meander through. This would become one of my favorite things about riding: the quiet, small streets and village centers to cruise through where bikes and pedestrians clearly rule.

The late afternoon was balmy and warmish as we got out of town and onto paths that took us along the “River Rhein”, through rural areas and vineyards, along dikes, or through small patches of wooded area. Every several miles, er, kilometers, there would be a small village to go through for a few blocks and then it turned into fields again. It was quite pleasant! Though I was jet lagged and hungry (I hadn’t eaten for 12 hours or slept for 28) I didn’t really feel that way. The fresh air, nice scenery and exercise helped stave off the tiredness – for awhile. A couple hours into this meandering, map-checking and asking directions, we took a “short cut” to get back on route (I hoped) that took us up a steep, rutted, rocky path through a vineyard. The good news was it dropped us on the backside of a hill and the backside of a town which I think was Oppenheim. I did look at the maps from time to time, but since I wasn’t the route-finder on this trip, I didn’t pay much attention to detail. We covered about 25 miles (longer than it should have been if we had stayed on course, which we didn’t) and finally found a hotel. Shower, food, sleep. Ah!

This area of the Rhein is famous for it's medieval castles and I guess they are quite common up and down the river, with a lot of tours set up to see them. Well, the only castle-like thing I really saw was this tower in Oppenheim.

Day 2

We biked for 10 hours (including breaks), I got tired, found lodging, shower, food, sleep. That was pretty much the drill from here on out. Oh? A bit more detail? Day 2 and 3 were about 65 milers each. The rural and river-side paths continued, weaving through villages, the occasional dirt, cobblestone or brick path, some woods, some fields. A stop in some bigger towns for fruit, cheese, ice cream, afternoon iced coffee or bike tire tubes. There was frequently the scent of something very sweet in bloom as well as the strong scent of wild onions growing in the woods. Some of the towns along the way were (this all becomes a blur): Worms, Ludwigshafen, Speyer, Hartshausen, Germersheim, Offendorf, Strasbourg…

It is worth mentioning our 2nd night’s stay in Hartshausen, a small village about 8 km outside of the larger city of Speyer. If there had been any small hills or round front doors about, I would have sworn I was in Hobbiton, it was such a little rural Eden. We had a host, Bilbo Baggins, I mean, Hans Juergen, who opens his home to touring cyclists via a web site called “Warm Showers” (http://www.warmshowers.org/). What a treat to stay in this nice, peaceful home! He and his partner Giselle went above and beyond the expected provision of a bed and, well, a warm shower. We had a nice homemade dinner, wine and good company in the backyard garden on a fine May evening. A very comfortable, clean bed for the night and breakfast the next a.m. with preserves made from their own fruit trees and cake that HJ's mom had made. Hans Jurgen had to go off to work (donned in cycling shorts and jersey) to his job in Speyer as a bicycle rickshaw driver. Giselle accompanied us through the woods a few miles to get us pointed in the right direction. Hans Juergen has a website with photos of the region and is worth checking out (the photos are his own and the link to "Aktuelles" shows his home where we stayed). Have fun trying to read the German text if you know that language: http://www.rikscha-tours.com/index.html

The bike paths are very extensive there - every couple miles there is an intersection, often just 2 unmarked paths meeting in the middle of the woods, which makes it likely to take a wrong turn and get off course. Near towns, you'll see several cyclists per mile, outside of town you might go for miles without passing anyone. The cyclists there are likely to be families or older couples or just anyone, really, in street clothes going about thier business or out for a leisurely evening ride. There were few road warriors on fast bikes - the type in cycling jerseys with turned-down handlebars and all that. I was trying to compare the trails to something I know around Seattle and the closest I could think of was the Sammamish Slough trail with hardly any other riders on it and less development around it. And for town riding, think of Pioneer Square or maybe Pike Place Market, with narrower streets, fewer and smaller cars that actually watch out for and yield to cyclists or physically separate bike lanes alongside roads.

Day 3

Another 65 mile day with more long stretches of paths, many villages, a few stretches along the Rhein (where it occasionally got slightly industrial looking for a short stretch). In the afternoon we crossed an insignificant looking canal and had entered France. We were due for stop, so at the next village we found ice cream and pastries (the goodies were so pretty that I took a picture!). I heard something about “a few more miles” to go. OK! A few more miles, then some exploring of France! Well, it started to rain, we returned to the Rhein path and it was the longest, most monotonous, most endless-seeming of trails. Woods on right, dike on left, or river on left (it was an impressive, fast flowing river, but really, not the most scenic I’ve seen. It’s a working river – always a barge to be seen). Well I was tired and saddle-sore (I had been the day before as we got closer to our 65 mile day, but the weather was better and the scenery prettier and more varied). I was in that physical and mental space of being done already, but had to plow on unless I wanted to invite myself to camp along this unattractive section of the river with the campers fishing along the riverside. Ugh! It was grey and rainy and there were slugs and snails about. Fixed a flat and trudged onward.

Riding through the first French village was a treat. Charming with the pastel painted houses! It must have been around 7 p.m. and it was Saturday in a smallish village, so chances were slim of finding places open. But we finally found a little hotel and I thoroughly enjoyed my hot shower (it was humid the whole trip, I’d been riding for 10 hours and the “performance fabrics” of the bike shorts and jersey might as well have been stinking Petri plates…). Dinner was delicious and was the best I had in France (despite Paris' claim to famous, fantastic cuisine, I was disappointed by the 3 meals and several of the snacks I had there).
Day 4

A 30 mile ride through French rural countryside and villages, with some stretches along the river or through woods. Final stop was Strasbourg, an old city (well, all those cities are old there, aren’t they?) with some impressive church spires, bridges and stuff. We found the train station, got tickets for the 1.5 hour ride to Paris on the TGV, the high-speed train. It was interesting to get the perspective on the countryside as we sped along. I really love how the villages dot the countryside, stay small, contained and surrounded by fields without sprawling about and spawning a commercialized style.

Day 5 & 6 were in Paris and I'll enter a post about that ASAP.

Vancouver & Name-dropping

Here are excerpts from a description submitted by a fellow Age-Grouper for the upcoming Vancouver race (with my comments in blue):

VANCOUVER WORLDS BIKE COURSE

So you haven’t taken the time to go to Vancouver BC and test the bike course in Stanley Park? ... thought you might be interested in a description of the course.

It’s a six mile long loop, so we’ll be doing four identical laps. Expect this race to be very cold from start to finish. You’re essentially swimming in the northern Pacific Ocean, with an anticipated water temp of 62F. (Let's hope it is 62! That will be a bit warmer than my recent swim in Seattle). The first wave starts at 6:45 a.m. Since the average overnight low is 50F and daily average high is 65F, you have to figure that it will be a pretty cold air temp. (OK, I think I did that at last June's Cascade's Edge triathlon which is an earlier blog post for your reading pleasure). You might want to have a top and gloves next to the bike just in case you’re shivering uncontrollably when you get out of the water. If it rains consider staying in bed. (Stay in bed if it RAINS???? OK, home court advantage for us from the NW. Now I am seeing a purpose for the extra 7 lbs. I haven't yet shed: insulation.).

...The first thing to remember about a race like Worlds is that you are up against not just the best in the world, but also the most competitive Type A personalities you’ve ever seen. (Moi? I'm one of the most relaxed type A's you'll ever meet.) They’re not always as careful on the bike as you might hope. For that matter neither are you. (Who me?). On a course like this, one careless rider can cause a big pileup. So whatever else you do, pay careful attention to the bikers around you, but especially in front of you.

The first couple of miles of the loop are essentially flat but twisting. About ½ mile into the course you have a 90 degree blind left turn, where you go under a bridge, followed almost immediately by a hard right turn. This area has the potential for a crash... A little while later you hit two speed bumps that are fairly smooth but you likely won’t know they’re there until you’re riding on them. Two and ½ miles into the loop, you make a steep climb of about 500 to 600 yards (the fourth time around it’ll feel like a mile). There’s a sharp left at the top. The next mile is a moderate descent and you can build up some real speed. But the pavement has a few ruts and patches and the road twists left and right. This is the most dangerous part of the course, because this is where people will be trying to make the most speed, maybe around 40 mph.... (it goes on like this...).

This would be a great ride if you had the road all to yourself, but guess what, a couple of thousand other hotshots have decided to join you. I don’t know what the spacing of the waves will be, but if you do the math, at 100 racers per wave, every five minutes, over the course of an hour, you get 1,200 riders on the bike course at the same time. That would be 200 riders on each and every mile. If they do three minute waves, you get… a course so crowded that Sister Madonna might be heard muttering a few naughty words (You haven't heard of Sister Madonna??? Ironman, nun, 77 year old, triathlon rock star and role model from Spokane, WA??? I just googled her to provide a little filler for my blog and found her on Wikipedia of all things. You've got to check it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna_Buder ).

So Eeyore, isn’t there any good news? Oh heck yes. Not only is Vancouver a great city for tourists, but this is one of the most scenic courses you’ll ever race. Stanley Park is about 2/3 surrounded by water. It is a jewel of a park for being in a major city. The views are spectacular (not that you’re going to spend any time taking them in during the actual race). The bike ride isn’t flat but the run sure is. And you don’t worry about getting a heatstroke.