Drext and Drail?

I’ve come up with some new words for my bad habits…

drext (drekst)

v, n : abbreviation of drunk text

1.A system for sending and receiving messages electronically over a cell phone, after imbibing substantial quantities of liquor.
2. A message or messages sent or received by such a system.
See also drail

drail (drail)

v, n : abbreviation of drunk email

1. A system for sending and receiving messages electronically over a computer network, after imbibing substantial quantities of liquor.
2. A message or messages sent or received by such a system.

I got wonderful feedback from Morgan... friends don't let friends drunk dial, text or email!

He just doesn't bug me

An acquaintance recently asked me what my deal-breakers are for a guy that I would date. Strange that I've made it to the ripe age of 34 and never once considered writing out a list of what the deal-breakers might be. I don't even know what my *must-haves* and *nice-to-haves* would be?

It got me to thinking if I do have any specific must-haves... or deal-breakers, for that matter. The latter is easier than the former. Also, perhaps it's my lack of depth, but when I consider what the character traits of the ideal guy might be... I seem to get stuck on superficial characteristics.

Must-have: >5'10", self-confident, college graduate, athlete, ambitious, brainiac, good kisser, holds his date's hand

Nice-to-have: Ivy league college graduate, blonde, >6'2", loves kids, well-travelled, american, shaves his legs, good grammar

Deal-breakers: G.U. (geographically undesirable), arrogant, married, smoker, parties past midnight frequently

Pretty superficial, huh? In fact, half of the list above is just a label for something deeper... which of course, I won't let myself voice?!?!? Naturally, I'm not at all convinced that this is my list... college graduate is a social mnemonic for rigorous thinking or strong work ethic. Shaves legs clearly marks the dude out as a cyclist ;-)

This personal insight is probably what keeps me away from online dating sites such as match.com. Despite the creative, truthful blurb that each guy writes, I read an online profile and boil down that guy into a series of superficialities and labels so I can pigeon-hole him into a comprehensible *box* in my mind. Ironically, in person I'm attracted to the guys that I can't *pigeon-hole*, guys that possess a set of juxta-posing traits that I can't nail down but which makes them all the more irresistible!

Upon further thought I remembered a quote from a friend of a friend that was recently married. When asked why she thought that this guy was *the one*, her response was: "he just doesn't bug me". Is that enough of a reason to marry someone? A lot of guys that I've dated in the past have bugged me for one reason or another...? Is she on to something?

Over Thanksgiving, I hung out with a guy for 4 straight days... and he didn't bug me for a second. I didn't even question any choices he made, things he did, we just hung out and had fun. Yeah, 4 days is not a long time for someone you barely know. It's all very new and exciting. I brought up the topic with a girlfriend and she quoted her *must-have* as a "guy that wants to be with me" and then suggested I download Nikka Costa's song, "I gotta know".

The achingly-sung chorus lyrics are as follows: "Because I've been so strong for so long, never needed anyone but my strength is wearing out my heart, so I'm letting my guard down because I feel like I finally found somebody... that I gotta know"

It couldn't be further from how I behave in relationships. I let my guard down and get hurt every time! I clearly need to come up with a better "screen" for relationship material than "he just doesn't bug me". Where should I set the bar? This will continue to be a work in progress...

Halee emailed me this quote the day after I wrote the above blog: "Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends. Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you. Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, "...that's her."

Learning new tricks… Poker?

My elder sister, Janet, has teased me for a long time about my academic approach to learning. Pretty much from the time I could read, if I decided I wanted to master a new skill, I’d run out and buy the book, read and absorb as much information as I possibly could about the topic. Only when I felt comfortable that I could put the *aforementioned* skill into practice would I head out into the wide world and apply the information I had soaked up. Did not matter what the skill was. Sailing, downhill skiing, swimming, I’d buy the book… and the most recent new trick, Texas Hold ‘Em Poker. Thanks Phil Helmuth!

Perhaps this *learning mechanism* stems from the embarrassment I think I would feel to attempt something about which I am totally ignorant. They say a little knowledge is dangerous, but to me, zero knowledge might as well be suicide. I guess my attitude is that if I can at least *talk the talk*… perhaps I can then *walk the walk*? And, speaking of *talk the talk*, Poker has a fine lexicon that I am gradually mastering... stealing blinds, short stack, pocket nines, bluff, all-in, river card, heads up, buy-in, limp, play tight (or loose), off-suit, overcard...

I learned the basics of Texas Hold ‘Em Poker watching a friend play in the casino and online over Thanksgiving. Since then I have read a book on the basic strategy of the game, watched a few Tivo’ed episodes of the World Series of Poker, downloaded online playing software, fronted some cash and to date have played two online tournaments.. and placed second both times, earning back ~5x my buy-in. I've even covered the cost of the book. Pretty nice, huh?

My 1920s Name

There are a lot of random website's out there... here's the results of a site offering up "your name from the 1920s"

Your 1920's Name is:

Verda Esperanza

What's Your 1920's Name?

Thanksgiving 2005

Email exchange with client

JC: Well, if you knew how I'd spent Thanksgiving, you'd probably credit me with being a true American. I had a turkey dinner last Thursday in a trailer park (Cardiff Beach State Park - Encinitas) playing poker, drinking Coors Lite, watching football and learning the names of Nascar drivers.

Client: Whoa. Coors Lite in a trailer park and learning the names of NASCAR drivers?? With that you’ve descended from “sophisticated English gentry”, flown past “true American” and inadvertently landed at “unabashed redneck”! Sorry, but those traditions just don’t carry the same allure as those of a Charles Dickens Christmas in England, or better yet a Monty Python Christmas (if there is such a thing).

“You can’t call yourself King just because some watery tart threw a sword at you!!”

Top ten job offers

10. Outdoor adventure tour guide through Ecuador, Peru & Bolivia
9. Host of British sports trivia show "A question of sport"
8. Snow White in Columbia Pictures summer blockbuster movie - seven dwarfs to be played by Brad Pitt, Nick Lachey, Tom Cruise, Dave Matthews, Kiefer Sutherland, Lance Armstrong, Ryan Sutter
7. Official *esperanto* interpreter for European Union, Brussels
6. Wrench for Team CSC or Discovery Channel
5. Manchester United team masseuse
4. Body double for Julianne Moore
3. Lecturer in European history at Stanford
2. Assistant swim coach at UC Irvine
1. The next Bachelorette

Your Career Type: Conventional

You are orderly and good at following a set plan. Your talents lie in working with written records and numbers in a systematic, orderly way. You would make an excellent: Bank Teller - Bookkeeper - Court Clerk Mail Carrier - Post Office Clerk - Secretary Timekeeper - Title Examiner - Typist The worst career options for your are artistic careers, like comedian or dancer.

What's Your Ideal Career?

I didn't like the first answer so I did the career blogthing again, subtlely changing my answers...

Your Career Type: Realistic

You are practical and mechanical. Your talents lie in working with tools, mechanical or electrical drawings, machines, or animals. You would make an excellent: Carpenter - Diesel Mechanic - Electrician Farmer - Fire Fighter - Flight Engineer Forester - Locksmith - Locomotive Engineer Pilot - Police Officer - Truck Driver The worst career options for your are social careers, like social worker or teacher.

What's Your Ideal Career?

Ride with Dave Zabriskie

The Hawaiian Double

What’s “the Hawaiian Double”? The Ironman Hawaii World Championships and the Xterra World Championships (off-road triathlon) take place on consecutive weekends in Kona, Big Island and Makena, Maui respectively. A friend, Brent, introduced me to the concept of “doing the double” sometime last year and ever since I qualified for the 2005 Ironman Hawaii, I was intrigued about doing the Xterra race as well. A few hours ago, myself and two friends, Sandy and Scott, just completed “the double”. For me, the double has been added to my life category of “things to do once… but which don’t need to be repeated!”

Ironman Hawaii 2005

Top ten memorable moments of Ironman Hawaii 2005

10. The inexorably slow 2.4 mile swim. 1 hour and 24 minutes of memories
9. Visiting the church at the run turnaround on Ali’i Drive the evening before the race
8. Sitting next to Kiki in T2… we might as well have been enjoying a glass of wine at Harry’s
7. The Hawaiian winds on the Kohala coast… they didn’t show up this year!
6. Celebrating Tyler and Frank’s wins… fastest female amateur and fastest CEO, respectively
5. My Elite bike… who knew it could travel at 20+ mph for 112 miles
4. Megan’s comment of “about time” when I passed her on the bike… and her smile and words of encouragement when she passed me back at mile 23 of the run
3. Celebrating Scott’s marriage proposal to Kiki over coffee and muffins at Lava Java post-race
2. The view of the (almost) full moon over the ocean the morning of the race.
1. Wondering whether I want to come back and do it all over again in 2006 or 2007 or beyond…


Xterra Maui 2005

Top ten memorable moments of Xterra Maui 2005

10. Eating and drinking myself 7lbs heavier in the week between the 2 races!
9. Swimming with turtles when I did a practice loop of the swim on Saturday
8. The 3-5ft swells that greeted us at the beach on race morning… a rough water swim!
7. A flat tire just half a mile out of T1… and a face full of slime when I changed it
6. My plunge into the red sand after I lost control of my bike in the deep sand ruts
5. The cute, 20something German guy (Fricke on his shorts) that I gave my tube and pump
4. Waiting for Fricke to catch up to me when I got my second flat… he had my pump!
3. My Trek bike and my average speed of 6mph… what a difference a week makes!
2. Mis-timing a wave during the beach run section and getting a shoe-full of ocean water
1. Knowing that I will never come back and do it all over again in 2006 or 2007 or beyond…

Total time – 4 hours 40 minutes
Swim – 0:30
Bike – 3:03
Run – 1:07

Above were the *atmospheric* race recaps… below is the *soup to nuts* version of Ironman Hawaii, if that wasn’t already enough. As for Xterra: “check”, that’s all I have to say.

Ironman Hawaii 2005

I was fortunate to spend the few days prior to Ironman Hawaii in Kona with friends and fellow racers in a condo, located several miles outside of town. While the goal was to relax and acclimate to the heat and humidity, the days prior to the race seemed action-packed with *small* workouts, previews of the course, race preparation errands and catching up with other friends that were racing. Time was evaporating and Saturday October 15th arrived all too quickly. Suddenly, it was 3:30am on Saturday morning and my alarm was beeping, signaling me to get up and eat breakfast. As I digested the 1,000 calorie meal, I studiously went through my *race morning* checklist, then loaded into the tiny jeep with coach Chris, his wife, Dixie and our driver for the morning and medical tent volunteer, Erica.

Once at the King Kamehameha hotel, I had about 90 minutes to attend to the *pre-race routine* of body-marking, sunscreen and bodyglide application, checking tire pressure, handing in my special needs bags, visiting the bathroom (multiple times), taking pictures with friends, and slowly getting nervous. Would the swim be choppy? Will the winds pick up on the bike ride? Just how hot and humid would it be during the run? I could control none of these things so I tried to push them to the back of my mind.

The professional athletes started at 6:45am and immediately afterwards I swam the 100 yards or so to the start line and treaded water with the hundreds of other athletes. Boom!!! In spite of the 10 second warning to 7am, the start canon took me by surprise. The water was suddenly awash with swimmers kicking and flapping their way to the turnaround yacht some 1.2 miles from the Kailua-Kona pier. It seemed to take forever to get to that little boat…when I finally reached the boat I refused to look at my watch, not wanting to be demoralized by the slowness of my swim. Instead, on each breath, I listened to the cheers of the crowds packed on the boat and smiled to myself that I was headed back to shore. The way back seemed to go more quickly. I followed a guy’s feet to shore and soon I was taking those first, unsteady steps, back on dry land. 1:24 was slower than my two prior races but not outside my expectations for the non-wetsuit Ironman Hawaii swim.

As I rolled my bike out of its rack, I heard Matt Dixon’s English accent yelling: “Go have fun out there, Jordan!” I love riding my bike, but could the next 112 miles be fun?!?!? On the plus side, few people who swim as slow as I do, can ride a bike as fast as I can… this translates to “passing hundreds of people on the bike… in fact, I passed more than 400 people”. Besides yelling ‘on yer left’, those 112 miles were fairly uneventful; I narrowly avoided the *spray* of a girl peeing on her bike, locating my special needs bag took more time than I would have liked but the infamous Kohala coast winds were non-existent. In contrast to the Half-Ironman I raced here in June, I was feeling great on the bike, riding easily at 200 watts or so and keeping my heart rate in a reasonable range. I was back in transition 5hrs 30mins after I left, having averaged over 20mph.

At T2, I joyously handed off my bike to Charlie (friend who was volunteering) in exchange for a kiss on the cheek and ran into the change tent only to sit down next to my friend and training partner, Kiki! Small world . We exchanged words of encouragement while *gently barking* orders at the change tent volunteers: “lots of sunscreen, please!”

On to the marathon… my legs felt a little wobbly and my stomach was even more wobbly but I heard several people cheer my name as I exited transition so I told myself that the 10 mile out and back along Ali’i Drive was just a *scenic warm-up run*. In contrast to the views, those first few miles were UGLY from a running and nutrition perspective. But by the 5mile turnaround, I had pulled myself together and was running pretty well, catching the people who had passed me (usually while I was in the porta-pottie) in those early miles. The skies were clear blue and the sun was burning down… hot, hot, HOT. I was grateful for the cups of ice and water being handed out at each aid station. In fact, my bra top became the repository for at least 5-6 ice cubes at each mile marker, as I struggled to keep my body as cool as possible. The solid run pace continued until mile 16 or so, when the stomach issues returned. The remaining 10 miles into the Energy Lab and back along the Queen K into town were a string of mile repeats, interrupted by trips to the porta-pottie. Not the best running scenario but at least I was getting closer to the finish. Well, almost… at one point, I ran backwards for several hundred yards because my stomach lurched and I needed the bathroom… who runs backwards in an ironman?!?!? Finally I returned to town and was on the last half mile of Ali’i Drive. I got a high-five from my coach, Chris Hauth (big thanks!), before entering the tunnel of cheering fans and bright lights of the finishing chute. The announcer called my name and confirmed: “Jordan Cantwell, you are an Ironman…” and then I mentally reminded myself that I was a “Hawaii Ironman”.

Thanks to my fellow competitors and all the friends and supporters in Hawaii… your cheers and smiles were appreciated. Also, a big thanks to those who *watched online*.

What's my Hawaiian name?

Since I'm about to leave on a 2 week trip to Hawaii... I figured I should use this blogthing to figure out my Hawaiian name... and it will perhaps embue me with a different personality?

Your Hawaiian Name is:

Okelani Leilani

What's your Hawaiian Name?

SF Grand Prix 2005

i had a pretty sweet day watching the san francisco grand prix on sunday. i pulled off the role of cycling groupie pretty well and had a fun day watching the race with friends. the lap in the team car was also pretty cool. i don't think i've ever been quite so scared driving the streets of san francisco. clark, the directeur sportif of team usa was trying to squeeze by numerous cars to get up to freddie rodriguez during the time i was in the car. it was pretty interesting to see how the race commissaires' control the race from the cars' perspective and tune into race radio!
photo by Ray Mina
and next month i'll be riding w/ dave zabriskie. a local physical therapy place, presidio sports medicine, is having a big expansion/opening event in late october and dave zabriskie will be the guest of honor and speaker. however, they are also doing a small group ride with him earlier in the day and since they know that i have a huge crush on him, i was invited along for the ride!
the weekend of training was pretty decent. two back to back long rides on friday-saturday. the second one went really well, especially considering it was 110mi in 85 degree heat w/ tons of climbing. now i'm doing more of a run focused week so it's all about a lot of boring running... this is when i shall miss my car since i basically have to start and end all my long runs at home, following fairly similar routes. plus work is a little busier this week w/ a few chunks of *responsibility*... limits my time!
photo by Ray Mina

Epic Camp Donner Lake '05

Clas Bjorling, Kristy Gough, Wendy Ingraham, JC

Milah, Kylie and Willow

Honu Half-Ironman

I think it was Steve Prefontaine that said "the person that wins is the one that has the most guts".. Not that I won anything this weekend (that honor goes to my coach, Chris Hauth, who won the race overall), or that I can even begin to compare myself to the legendary US track star, but that quote sprung to mind as this past Sunday's race will go down as my gutsiest race performance to date. And, unfortunately, I mean that very literally… Here are a few vignettes from the weekend.

Tuesday before the race was a really long day, taking the 6am flight from SFO to SNA for a daytrip to a client in Orange County. While waiting for the delayed last flight at OC airport, I chatted with a woman who turned out to live a few blocks from me in San Francisco.
"I can give you a ride back from the airport", I offered.
"That's great. I checked a couple of pieces of bags but they're not big", she replied.
I know my face fell at the thought of waiting at the luggage carousel for her bags rather than my usual sprint through the airport to my car but I wasn't going to revoke the offer. I got to bed at 1am, four hours later than my usual 9pm bedtime, but I figured that I'd stockpiled a little good karma for the week…

Friday was travel day and I awoke just prior to my 6am alarm. I immediately noticed the tenderness of my neck as I swallowed. I rose slowly from my bed and became aware of the *stuffiness* of my left nostril. "Ugh…I'm getting sick", I thought to myself, as I downed a double dose of Emergen-C, loaded up on echinacea and threw back a couple of Advil. Friend, training buddy and doctor, Kiki, offered me some email medical advice: "Take some Sudafed to help clear the congestion but stop taking it 24 hours before Sunday's race because the active ingredient, pseudoephedrine, acts like adrenalin and will *rev* your heart even more in extreme activity."

Race day and I was pacing our Hawaiian condo at 4:45am, ready to leave and make the 45 minute drive to the race start.
"Sandy, where are the car keys, I'm going to load my bike into the mini-van", I said. "I left them on the counter-top last night but they're not here."
"I don't know," Sandy called back, "I didn't touch them".
My personal prime suspects in "the case of the missing keys" were my condo-mates, Greg Spradling or Chris Hauth. I think guys are more prone to putting keys in their pockets and wandering off with them… call me sexist. A 15 minute *all hands on deck* search of the condo failed to turn up the missing keys. I was fuming inside and panicking that I would miss the race start but I kept my cool. Barely.

Halfway around the swim course I closed in on buoy number three:
"Boomph!"
"What the f&@#?"
I had sustained a kick to the head from some chick in pink. My left leg went numb and then began to cramp. I relaxed, flexed my ankle a few times, the cramp subsided and I resumed my swim rhythm. Sustaining a kick or two to the head no longer seems to bother me while swimming…

During the initial 10 miles of the bike leg along Big Island's "Queen K" highway, I traded places back and forth with a 59 year old woman as I desperately tried to find my rhythm.
"Okay, I think I'm mis-reading, if she passes me again I'll see that it really says 39 or perhaps 29…", I said to myself.
No, she passed me again, 59 was clearly *sharpie'd* on her right calf. You're still warming up, I said to encourage myself.

The congestion in my nose and chest was still there, as was the occasional cough, but in a race no-one really minds if you give a big *farmer blow* or spit, just as long as you check behind you beforehand. I know, it's not particulalry sanitary but there are worse things... At about mile 20 or so we reached the base of a steady 10 mile climb towards the town of Hawi. I'd been eating and drinking, per my race plan, but I had overwhelming feelings of nausea. "Hmmm, it must be the sun and 90 degree heat affecting me", I thought to myself, while projectiling vomit into the roadside brush. The rest of the climb I felt tremendously weak and I struggled to push 200 watts – I kept staring at my power meter in disbelief. I felt so weak. It didn't help that the entire climb was into a strong headwind (apparently light by island standards).

With 10 miles to go on the bike, the white Astro van of my *support crew* zipped by me. My team-mate Sandy and Chris' fiancée, Dixie, were all cheers and smiles, hanging out of the open van door, taking pictures. I just shook my head.
"Dig deeper", yelled Sandy.
"Stop the van! I want to get in," I called back. The van continued on. They didn't hear me…

Every triathlon I've raced has hinged on a great bike split…but I was riding abysmally and I felt like sh#t. I was beginning to get shivery goosebumps. A DNF seemed the sensible thing to do but as I contemplated the letters D-N-F (Did Not Finish) I recalled Hilary Biscay's words: "the only good reason to DNF is if you have a broken leg". Nothing broken. I made the final right hand turn into the Mauna Lani resort, the site of the bike-run transition, and checked my time. "Holy cow, I'm having a bad day but I've still ridden a 2:45 bike split. That's not quite as bad as I thought". I took a last sip of Gatorade, dismounted my bike and handed it off to a volunteer. I should do the run…maybe everyone else is having a bad day?

I grabbed my run gear but took my time putting my shoes on, still toying with the concept of DNF. I headed out of T2 and instantly recalled Chris' race advice to me: "Commit on mile 1. I don't want to hear that you felt sluggish for the first couple of miles of the run and then felt great by mile 7. Just go and get it from the start!"

"Where are the goddamn mile markers?", I said to myself after running for a good twenty minutes. At least the *out and back legs* of the run course on the Mauna Lani resort and golf course afforded me views of the competition. I quickly spied #720, probably about a mile ahead of me. I saw a lot of women ahead of me but #720 was the only person I recognized from my age-group.

As I hit the 10k mark I heard the announcer welcoming home the overall race winner, Chris Hauth. That news gave me a mental boost. I recalled his *fast feet* mantra and it encouraged me to pick up the pace.

I saw the 15k mark as I made a left turn into what I hoped was the last out and back…a long descent into a headwind. Running downhill has never been so hard! A guy came up to my right shoulder about to pass me and I immediately tucked in behind him, seeking to draft. Sweet! I followed for several hundred yards until I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach. Yikes…I need to go to the bathroom. NOW! I was at least half a mile from an aid station but I looked left and decided the Hawaiian brush would provide sufficient cover. A girl's gotta do…

I crossed the finish line in 5 hours 23 minutes and change. I felt awful, my guts were in knots and I was worried that I was about to start hyperventilating. I was miserable and disappointed with the day. On the way back from my third post-race porta pottie trip I spied Chris and went over and congratulated him on the win. Dixie sensed that I was not doing so well and gave me a big hug. I promptly burst into tears.

An hour or so after finishing, having changed into dry clothes and watched other friends cross the finish line I decided to stop by and check the results sheet. I figured I'd be lucky to have made top ten in my age-group. I found my name.
"Jordan Cantwell San Francisco CA 34 2/50 36:11 2:46…"
I only made it halfway across the line and had to stop. The "2/50" caught my eye. My heart started beating fast and I found myself repeating "oh my god" over and over again like some teenage drama queen. "I had taken second place in my age-group? No way! Did everyone else really fold?"
I scanned the results sheets and saw that #720 had placed first, well ahead of me time-wise, but no other 30-34 year olds had finished ahead of me. Yikes!

The awards ceremony took place late Sunday afternoon and our raucous San Francisco crew occupied three tables, front and center, ready to cheer along Chris for winning the overall title, Monique for winning her age-group and placing fourth among the women and for my age group second place. There was also the small matter of "Qualifying slots for the Hawaii Ironman Triathlon World Championships". As the age-group awards began, the MC announced that each female age-group would have one qualifying slot. For the Women's 30-34 age group I got up on stage to collect my turtle-shaped 2nd place trophy. #720 took her 1st place award and eagerly accepted the Hawaii slot. I was about to walk off stage.
"Wait a moment", the MC said. "I almost forgot. As the biggest age group, we have two Hawaii slots in W30-34. Jordan, do you want the slot?"
"Hell yes!", I said repeating #720's enthusiasm. I was excited but also deafened by Sandy's squeal and the cheers from the SF posse who rose from their seats! The awards ceremony only got better as my friends and training buddies, Scott Withoff and Dirk Vlieks also got Hawaii slots.

I'm still in shock that I qualified for Hawaii. I'll be the first to admit that it was far from my best race but I gutted it out and stayed in the race when the mental and physical cues were signaling me to quit. I had somehow imagined that qualifying for Hawaii would only happen if and when I executed the perfect race. How quaint and idealistic of me! Things never quite turn out how you expect.

Thanks to Chris Hauth for his coaching advice, support and friendship…and for *walking the walk*. Congratulations again on the overall win!
Thanks to Dixie, Sandy, Greg and Katie for their on-course support and cheers… and for not letting me in the van!
Thanks to everyone that swims, bikes and runs with me in the bay area. I can't begin to name you since I'll accidentally forget someone and then feel awful. You know who you are. As much as triathlon is an individual sport, swimming on someone's feet, following someone's wheel and running on someone's shoulder is invaluable.

Now I need to start training for Ironman Hawaii - October 15th 2005.
(again, for the non-triathletes - 2.4mi swim, 112mi bike and 26.2mi run)

Thanks,
Jordan

PS - On the way back to the car with Sandy, post-awards, my giddiness finally subsided and my pragmatic nature returned.
"I hope we can find the keys to the rental car. I can't imagine where they are. I turned my luggage inside out this morning."
Sandy looked at me sheepishly, digging into her backpack and pulling out the Ford Winstar keys: "Ooops. I guess I did take them last night after all."

Sex and The City, SF-style

Monday March 28th - "The Bachelor pre-show party" preview
At a birthday party for thirtysomething Clorox exec, Jennifer, the girls convene to update one another on the many comings and goings of their *non-sex* lives. Stacey took the advice of dating guru to single women globally, Greg Cavallo, and we eagerly anticipate the results. Frustrated by the *miSS-timings* of recent crushes, Jeff and Tom, Sarah recently eschewed her demure public persona, accepting a high-profile lap dance from a young GSB'er at Marina standby, ESW. Jamie offers her style tips and cuisine advice to restaurant-challenged, Jen, who is seeking the perfect ambience to wow and entertain out-of-town boyfriend, Matt C. Jordan bemoans the six day lapse since her *hot* date with Rigney, finally acknowledging that 144 hours *time gap* is well outside all male, female, written and unwritten rules.

Arrested in Tiburon?!?

So I made it back to the US today. 75 degrees and sunny in SF so I went on a brief run then accepted Pete's invite to ride Paradise loop. All was well, felt great, went through a light that was going from amber to red. A police car chased me down and *threw the book* at me. Running a stop sign (which I contested - he was having none of that!) And not carrying an ID (driver's license or passport). He was ready to cuff me and throw me into jail until Pete intervened to vouch on my behalf. What a welcome back! The cop finally warmed up and gave me a mere $250 ticket. Nice. Why is this my life?

Ironman NZ race recap

Where to start?

First of all, thanks to everyone for their well wishes in advance of the race. It was really helpful to know that you were all supporting from afar and watching online.

Results? 11 hours 23 minutes.
7th in my age group, 21st overall woman and 305th of 1175 that started the race.

The swim course is a single loop that hugs the coastline for 1800m, has an 80m turnaround and then returns to shore. With just under 1200 starters, there were some crowds in the first 500m or so but it cleared out pretty quickly. Good and bad. No feet to kick me in the head but no feet to draft off easily. For some reason my goggles were taking in water so I think I stopped 6-7 times to adjust them. I felt like I was in the water forever, so I was pleasantly surprised to see 1:11 on my watch, several minutes faster than IMLP.

I walk-jogged the 500m to T1 which turned out to be a very crowded change tent. It was up to me to find a spot to disrobe the wetsuit and throw on my bike gear.

Then onto the bike - my favorite leg. The bike leg is two loops of flat, false flat and rolling terrain. The first loop was crowded with lots of back and forth with other athletes. I have a power meter on my bike so I just watched the watts, compared it to my heart rate and to how I felt and tried to block out what else was going on around me. First lap completed in 2:47 averaging 200 watts. By the second lap the *crowds* had thinned out dramatically. I rode the first lap conservatively and, feeling warmed up, the second lap was the time to pick up the pace or at least the effort level! The winds were steadily getting stronger as the morning wore on and that left the final 30k of the bike heading uphill into a headwind. I completed the second lap in 2:55 for a bike split of 5:42. However, I averaged 215 watts so the headwind certainly made its presence felt.

Back at T2 and the change tent was a completely different picture than T1. I had the place to myself! Four volunteers attending to my every need, applying sunscreen, putting on my cap etc. Then I headed out onto the run...or perhaps shuffle would be a better description of my run style at this point. I found no rhythm for the first 15k. I ate a gel, drank water, grabbed a handful of chips (salt) but nothing could get me moving. Then I decided to risk drinking a little coke.
I haven't trained with it but I drink at least a can of diet coke a day so I figured it couldn't hurt me. The coke turned out to be the endurance athlete's elixir. I was completely re-energized and stepped up the pace dramatically. Going from 6+ minutes per km to 5mins or so. Not world class marathon pace but it looked more like a run than a walk. I just wish the aid stations were closer together (every 2.5km) so I could have swigged down more of the stuff! I slowed towards the end of the marathon but by my clock I did manage to negative split the run and finish the marathon in 4:18.

That's pretty much my race story. The day was warm and sunny, the winds
were ever-present and the crowds were plentiful and highly supportive.

Afterwards, in the massage/food tent I was sitting next to Bjorn Anderssen, last year's 3rd place athlete. In my fatigued state I remarked: "how do you do this for a living?" To which he quickly retorted: "it's only a living if you win money." He'd had a tough time on the marathon but showed his guts to stick it out, walking to the finish line with fellow Swede and last year's 2nd place guy, Clas Bjorling, to hUGe applause from the crowds.

Kia Ora - Kiwi travel nightmares!

I took Friday off work (except a breakfast meeting) so I could finish packing my bike and run through my laminated version of *ye olde triathlon pack list* at least twenty times. Super Shuttle arrived slightly early at 4:10pm (7:30pm flight) but I was all set to go so it was no big deal. The other passengers in the van were anxious about the voluminous Friday night traffic so I told the driver that I could be dropped off last. We pulled into the SFO international terminal at 5pm. Plenty of time. I joined the Air NZ line to check in and it was quickly my turn. I was asked for my ticket.
"Ticket? Isn't it an electronic ticket? I used United miles."
"Ma'am, you were mailed a ticket."
"Well, I did receive a receipt in the mail but then I changed the dates and I never received a new ticket."
"You need to go check with the United counter. Please do so and then come back to us".
Thankfully, she allowed me to leave my luggage. The United counter was close by and there were only two people ahead of me in line. It was now 5:20pm. Suddenly, a herd of folks rushed into the terminal, pushed to the front of the line and breathlessly squawked about the 6pm flight to Sydney. The two agents dropped everything they were doing for the customers in line and assisted the Aussies, ticketing and checking their baggage. At 5:35pm I moved to the front of the line, explaining my situation to the first agent.
"Ma,am, you need to pay taxes - $17.24."
Uh, oh I thought I'd paid taxes online but maybe it was a booking fee. No big deal. I handed over my credit card. The agent swiped the card, tapped at the keyboard and gave me a perplexed look. She asked for a phone number from her co-worker and dialled the united help desk. "The customer needs a paper ticket", was the helpline response. "The only other alternative is to buy another ticket". The agent called over her co-worker, explained the situation and he concurred with the helpline feedback. He also pointed out, somewhat unhelpfullly, that there were seats on the flight and I could buy a new ticket for five grand! Of course there are seats on the plane - there's my goddamn seat! "Ma,am I suggest you go home and get your receipt/ticket".
It was now 5:45pm. I went back to Air NZ and picked up my luggage and updated the Air NZ agent on the situation. Her parting words: "Be back here by 6:45pm". I hauled ass out of the terminal, which is less than 3 mph when you're dragging a bike box and a wheelie. No taxis in sight but there were a whole host of "shared vans". I yelled out San Francisco and a guy got out of his van and began to assist me. "I'm chartering you. We're going to Nob Hill and back and if we make it back by 6:45pm, I'll give you a huge tip". "Uh-oh, deal", he said. I jumped in and the clock in the van read 5:52pm.
The van lurched away from the terminal curbside as the driver yelled at me to buckle up and relax. My mind raced. I drive to and from SFO in 20mins all the time... just never at 6pm on a Friday. My driver (whose name I never asked - sorry!) did more weaving than you'd see at a basket-making convention. 70mph. Nice. Past the newly named Monster stadium. We were cruising. Then...my stomach sank as we came over the hill by Potrero Ave. We hit the wall of red lights...I knew it would be there but I'd been in denial. Bay Bridge traffic spilling over all five lanes. I moved to the
edge of my seat and anxiously wailed to the driver. "Honey, just sit back and let me do my th'ang", he cautioned. He yanked the wheel to the right as a handful of consternated commuters hit their horns hard. We exited onto Potrero and traffic was moving. We hit a few red lights but we were making more progress than on 101. We crossed Market and I saw 9th street. Great, a straight shot up to Larkin and then I'm back home. The door to the van was open and I was jumping to the sidewalk as we screeched to a stop in front of Sushi Rock. It was 6:17pm. The elevator in my building takes 50 seconds to reach the 3rd floor (why do I know that?) so I took the stairs, grabbing the rail and pulling myself up 3 steps at a time. I was back in the van w/ ticket in hand at 6:19pm. I was clearly anxious and my driver reiterated that I needed to stay calm, buckle up and sit back. We wove through downtown traffic, retracing our steps along Potrero and were back on 101 by 6:30pm. I was beginning to feel more confident and sensing this my driver started to ask me questions. Where I was going? Why? I spinned my triathlon yarn and the highlight of that conversation was that he guessed I was 26. Yay! Maybe, he was angling for an even biGGer tip. I pulled out a wad of 20s, explaining that I was giving him the fare plus 100% tip. Then I walked him through the plan for arrival at SFO. Yes, I'm at my A-type best in panic situations! I was going to run to the check-in desk and I was tasking him to follow me with the bike box and wheelie. We hit the airport off-ramp at 6:40pm and I was back in line at 6:41pm. I triumphantly waved my ticket at the same Air NZ agent, whooping with delight that I'd made it. The driver followed, dragging my luggage behind.
"You are late. The flight is already boarding," 'tsked the gate agent. "Your luggage may not make the flight. You also have to get through security". I scanned the terminal which was practically empty, I couldn't begin to conceive that security was going to be more than a 5 minute chore. I prosecuted my case, saying that I'd go straight through security and sprint to the plane. The agent reluctantly took my passport and ticket, while calling over a baggage handler to *express* the lugagge in the direction of Air NZ 007. I hugged the newly enriched van driver goodbye and
told him that I was fine and that I was getting on the plane. I breezed through security, sped-walked to gate 96 only to join the 300+ passengers lining up to board the 747. I had soooo made it! I settled into seat 26K, separated by a seat from a very pleasant woman called Nancy who turned out to be Chris Lieto's next door neighbor, knew nothing about triathlon but gave me a supply of "energen-c" for my trip. Random.

Anyway, *kia ora" is welcome in Maori. I arrived and it's 7:30am and the rental car place does not open until 8am...bummer. So I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee w/ skim milk, otherwise known as a "flat white".

10 reasons a morning ride is so rewarding

1. I only need to wash my hair once a day (unless of course I'm running/swimming in the evening - life of a would-be triathlete)
2. I can make a date in the evening without compromising my training schedule
3. The thrill I get every time I ride across the Golden Gate bridge because it's a different color every time
4. The chance that the sunrise might be stunning, or at least pretty good
5. Prime-time wildlife viewing
6. Morning dew
7. No guilt when I scoff down my usual fruit, yoghurt as well as a toasted bagel plus a large chai latte for breakfast
8. Bragging rights at the office (after I've snuck in at 9:15am, hoping no-one noticed my tardiness)
9. Climbing off my bike at the front door, steaming and heroic. Fingers and toes are cold but the shower awaits...
10. Seeing myself as hardcore in other people's eyes
It's better than dragging your bum to the pool for a morning swim! ;-)

Eventful morning ride

pete and i did a recovery ride around paradise this morning... recovery has a double-entendre since i was nursing a mild hangover (let's blame stacey!)

the first incident was a heart-stopping narrow-miss collision with 250lbs of venison while descending camino alto. a true case of *deer in nite-rider headlamp* but thankfully i missed the animal by about two feet... which was still way too close for comfort

the second incident occurred as we pulled onto the sidewalk to get a coffee at the café in tiburon (yes, after 25 miles of riding, i was still nursing the hangover!). the sight of jordan, dressed in the areté blue, white and silver and pete in *blue and white imitation areté gear* astride our bikes startled a small border collie (think lassie but half the size) which was tied to one of the café chairs. the poor pooch jumped up from its resting place and started hauling ass along main street, with the café chair in tow. i ran into the café to alert the dog's owner that the pooch had fled in terror, taking the café chair with it. thankfully the frightened collie came to a halt about 100 yards down the street, probably from the exhaustion of dragging a 20lb chair behind it but not before the café proprietor had came out to see *who* had stolen one of the outdoor chairs... i think it was more excitement than tiburon could handle before 8am and i suspect that it might get written up for the local police report... *border collie caught red-handed stealing café furniture*

jc