Racing and the ranch
So the weekend...
Liv was in town, and my entire family decided to descend upon the ranch this weekend in celebration. That was six Solises, five dogs, and Graham. I believe Graham may have been slightly outnumbered.
On Saturday morning, we woke up at some godawful hour to the sound of my father waking up Jose. Texas Monthly, it seems, did an article this month on the best barbeque in the state. A little joint in Lexington came in first*, and apparently it's become so popular since the article that they're plumb out of barbeque by 9:30 in the morning. Jose and my father made it a mission to get some before they ran out.
I slept a little more, though, I was up and by ten, and Graham and I were on the road by ten thirty to go to Austin and drop off my bike. It took us about an hour to get through the packet pickup/wander through the Expo/get my bike in the right spot/buy some gear and sunglasses, and we were back at the ranch by two. I didn't stay for the course overview or the advice seminars, since I did the course last year. I did, though, drive the bike part of the course, so I could refamiliarize myself with some of the hills.
We got back to the ranch by 1:30, and after eating the barbeque (it was pretty good, especially the brisket) most of the day was spent lounging around and watching old West Wing episodes. At some point, birthday gifts were exchanged, and my dad got a lovely hammock from me and my mom. Graham test drove it for a few hours.
The afternoon ended with a very competitive bocce tournament. Me and Claudia against my dad and Liv. Jose acted as line judge. No one (but Jose) stood up off the grass or really put down their drink throughout the whole tournament, and the wild card was Chicken, who would run out and move balls at will. It seemed as if she was actively working against Liv and my dad, as Claudia and I ended up winning 11 to 3.
My dad's birthday dinner is always seafood gumbo, a recipe handed down from his mother to his wife and children. He was sick last week, during his actual birthday, so we had the gumbo on Saturday night. This would probably turn out to be a really, really bad idea on my part.
I ended up in bed by 9:30, my alarm set for 4:15 the next morning.
At some ungodly hour of the morning, my cell phone announced it was turning itself off and therefore would not set off the alarm. I was prepared for this, though, and had set my heartrate monitor to alarm too. And it wasn't like I was going to get much sleep.
I rolled out of bed, got dressed in the dark, put the sleepy pooches in my parents' room, and found Graham had also rolled out of bed and gotten dressed. I told him a few times that he didn't have to come with me, but he'd have none of it.
By 4:45, we had me, my stuff, Graham, and his four double shots of Starbucks espresso in the car and on the way to Austin. We weren't exactly chipper, but we were awake. I double checked on the road to make sure my timing chip had been put in with my stuff.
We got to the Expo Center at 5:45ish, but it took another 20 mintues to park, because so many people were there. I made it to the transition area at around 6:30, and I left my helmet, water bottles, bike shoes, running shoes and headband on a towel next to my bike. I found someone to sharpie my numbers on my arms and legs, and I wandered around for few minutes to wait for Graham. He made it in by around 6:45, commenting later that it was like the husband Butan Death March, with guys pushing strollers and hauling lawn chairs on foot while their athletes were shuttled the mile and a half to race site on school busses. Someone offered him $5 for his last Starbucks espresso. He declined.
We found a place to camp out and wait for my wave to be called, and we sat down for a while on a serape and watched the chaos. Someone announced that there were over 3,000 competitors here. Graham commented that a student of the female form would be well advised to attend one of these events, as there were women of all shapes and sizes wandering around in fairly skin tight attire. The weather, it must be said, didn't feel all that bad. There was cloud cover, and a fairly strong breeze. It was early enough in the morning that the temperatures hadn't really risen yet, and I felt that it was a pretty good day.
At around 7:00, someone sang the National Anthem, and the race started shortly afterwards. I got up to watch the elite athletes swim, and one of them kicked some serious ass, finishing the swim course in a little over 12 and a half mintues. I was in wave number 13, so I had about 45 minutes to wait after the first wave went. We continued to people watch, and I tried to relax as much as possible.
I wasn't all that nervous, per se. I was a bit apprehensive, and my stomach was a bit jittery. It bothered me a little that we had a celebration right before I went to bed the night before. But, I forced myself to relax. When they were calling wave nine to the water, I got up, kissed Graham (who gave me inspriational pep talk using the Rocky trainer voice), and went to the water to wait for my wave to be called.
It felt like it took forever, but it also felt like it went really fast. There was a woman giving cheesy inspriational talk to the athletes right before they took off, and occassionally they'd hand the mic to a crowd member to root on a particular athlete. One little girl said "Go Mommy! And remember that no matter what happens, we still love you very, very much." The crowd laughed at that.
The wave ahead of me went, and we were ushered into the water. I got to one side and got down. It was colder than I thought it'd be, and I wanted to get used to it. I got my heartrate monitor set to push "start" with the count down, and I waited. I didn't really pay that much attention to the women around me. I knew that we were wearing green swim caps; the wave ahead of us, blue; the wave behind, red. My stomach churned a little, but I willed it to calm down. I willed myself to relax. I told myself not to go to fast, not to panic, not to worry if I ran someone over or if someone ran over me.
I heard the countdown from 20, and I stared at my heart rate monitor for the duration. When they got to "1", I hit "start", then I hit "lock" and then I started swimming. I was really proud of myself, because I didn't hurry it. I just swam a nice, even stroke. There was a big yellow bouy about 150-200 meters in front of me, and I needed to get to it. I think I was towards the front of the pack at first. I could feel myself swimming past other people, but I was trying to get out of the way so I could just swim without having to worry about what was in front of me. I passed someone in a blue swimcap holding on to one of those floating noodles fairly early on, and she cheered me on.
I turned at the bouy and I just concentrated on the second bouy, not worrying about the third and fourth and then the stretch home. There were more blue caps ahead of me, and it seemed like there were quite a few green caps around me. It seemed like swimmers who were pausing concentrated at the bouys, maybe using them as a goal, maybe seeing that there was a cluster to use for moral support.
Somewhere between the second and third bouy, I was hit hard with a stomach cramp. It hurt so hard that I thought that I was hit with appendecitis, and every breath that I took was excruciating. I switched over to breast stroke, but I think I might have picked up the pace a little too. I suppose I could have waved down one of the swim angels and clung on to something or had them drag me out of there, but that didn't really occur to me. I just knew that I had to keep on going and ignore the pain or else I could be in serious, serious trouble. I got to the fourth bouy and started heading back to shore. At this point, I was passed by the first red cap, but I was still passing blue and some green caps. I got so excited to see shore that I switched back to freestyle and started swimming hard. The pain subsided quite a bit in this last 200 meters, and by the time I got out of the water (25 minutes and change after I got into the water), I was feeling much better.
I'll say now that I was a little disappointed when I looked at my watch after getting out of the water, but now I'm amazed. I swam two minutes and 13 seconds slower than last year, but looking at the results, I placed only 32 spots lower. Had I matched last year's time, I would have gone UP 280. Looking back on it, I think the wind played a considerable factor, as the water was pretty choppy and there was a bit of a current. I think EVERYONE swam a little slower, and given that I was in severe pain for a good hunk of that swim, I did pretty outstanding.
I hauled myself up the hill, and halfway up, I saw Graham shouting his head off for me. I got to my bike, changed into my shoes, shirt, headband, sunglasses and helmet, and I got to the bike start. I beat my transition time from last year by over a minute.
Right as I hopped on my bike, I saw Graham again, rooting me on.
My bike ride was less than I hoped for. I was, for some weird reason, having a lot of trouble with my gears. It took me awhile to get comfortable riding, and I think I severely miscalculated the benefits of spin class over getting on my bike and riding. Last year, I remember passing a lot of people on the straightaways, and even on some smaller hills. This year, it took me forever to pass someone. I didn't really feel all that sluggish from the swim, and the cramp was totally gone.
I didn't really struggle as much on the hills as much as I did last year, but I did have a hell of a major problem with the wind. Right around the middle of the bike ride, I was trying to get over further on the right, the wind caught me, and couldn't get my feet out of my toe clips before I toppled over. That was sort of embarrassing. By the end of the ride, I just wanted it to be over. It took an hour and six minutes, a full ten minutes more than last year.
This was the area that I thought I'd have the most improvement, and I think it was probably a really, really good lesson for me that I didn't. I was relying on my experience from last year to pull me through, and I didn't bother to train all that much. Or at all if you don't count spin class as training. My legs are used to the round and round motion, but I don't really know what I'm doing in terms of maximizing the features of my bike and most efficiently getting into gear. It's something I need to work on, and I think it's something that I'll probably enjoy quite a bit when I figure it out.
Again, I shaved a minute off of my transition time from bike to run.
The run was unremarkable, except it was getting really hot by that point, and I probably was already starting to fatigue severely. Maybe it was hot during the bike too, but I was too frustrated to notice. I was tired, and probably dehydrated in the run, and I walked probably the first mile of it. Pride took over after that, and I started running in intervals. I'd pick a marker ahead of me to run to, then another to walk to, then another to run to. It seemed to take forever, and again, I was six minutes slower than I was last year.
I finally got to the finish line, and again, I saw Graham cheering me on as I got closer and closer to the end. They called my name as I crossed over, and someone handed me water while someone else put a medal around my neck. I walked towards the exit and someone got the chip off my ankle. Graham found me and hugged me and kissed me and told me he was so proud of me. I downed the water and sort of dazedly looked at him. And I said, "Oh my god, that was so hard." He hugged me some more and told me I was amazing.
I found my bike and gear in the transition area, checked out, and Graham and I started the long walk back to the car. I bitched about the mile and a half on top of the 16 plus I'd already done that day, but it was probably good for me to keep moving. I think it ultimately took us about 45 minutes from my finishing the race to finally getting out of there.
We drove straight back to the ranch, and we took a shower as soon as we got there. After my shower, I sat downstairs under a fan, talking to my mom about the race, and I started to get really cold. I thought it was the air conditioning, or the fan, and it didn't occur to me that there was something wrong with ME. I retreated to a couch, got under a quilt and the blanket I had grabbed and fell asleep for a few hours. Graham claimed the other couch, not needing any covers.
I woke up a few hours later, and I did what I could to spend as much time with my sister and her dog before they left for California. Crianza played a little with Chicken, which was good to see as she was terribly, terribly jealous. Zapata declared his undying love. Relampago asked for more barbeque.
I had a headache, though I wasn't as cold.
At around six thirtyish, we drove back to Houston, and I was still feeling a little uggy. Graham made me drink gatorade.
We got home and I wasn't feeling like doing anything more than watch the end of Trading Places and the beginning of I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. I made myself some pasta, and Graham got something more substantial from the bar down the street.
Yesterday, I was still feeling run down and headachy and awful. So I called in sick, slept a lot, and spent most of the day sitting on the couch, knitting a baby blanket for my trainer and his wife, and watching most of Season 2 of Buffy.
This morning, I woke up, logged all of the last two weeks of training on my training log and went to the gym. Wooch took it easy on me, and I'll go to a spin class tonight.
All in all, I feel pretty good about this race, even though there were a lot of not-so-great things that happened in it. I certainly didn't make my goal of beating last year. I missed it by 15 minutes. But, I learned a lot about myself, and I think that it's a good thing that I had a setback. I didn't train all that much for it, and it showed. I didn't prepare the day before for it as I should have, and I paid for that. I have something more to work for now, and I think that I'm keenly aware of what I need to do from here on out.
I need to run more. I haven't really run all that much since I did the half marathon a year and a half ago. I half-heartedly started training for another one last fall, but I lost motivation for that once my winter schedule started getting hairy. I run maybe three miles a week nowadays, which is better than four or five months ago, but it's not anything particularly exciting.
I need to bike more. I don't feel comfortable on my bike, and I think that I could easily do so with time on it. It's something I need to work on considerably.
I need to swim more in open water, and go to swim class more often. The latter is easier to accomplish than the former, though there is a place that I can go for open water training that's not too far away.
I need to change my eating habits again. I've fallen off the wagon considerably in the last eight months or so, and while I know that I've been better the last few weeks, I need to continue that.
I need to take the races more seriously. Just because I can finish doesn't mean that should be my only goal. Training is important, and the race isn't just about that day, it's about the months leading up to that day. That was an important lesson from the half-marathon, and I didn't learn it well enough.
I need to remember why I do this. Two years ago today, my heart got smushed to the point that I seriously doubted that I'd ever recover. And the recovery method that I chose was to concentrate on myself, to challenge myself, do to things for myself that only I can do. Everyone I know says that I'm a better person, more Me-ish, if that makes any sense, because of that recovery method, and just because I'm better than I ever was before I got hurt so badly doesn't mean that I can slack off on that recovery. My having the most wonderful person I've ever met come into my life doesn't mean that I can stop worrying about the me-things that I need to worry about. I was horribly, horribly broken, and I can't ever let that happen again.
There's a race in August that I'm thinking about doing, and another in October. The October race may be conflicted with my cousin's wedding, but I hope that I can somehow or another pull it off.
*The best barbeque in the whole wide world made the list, of course. It seems, though, that the reviewers had a brisquet bias, where as pork is really where TBBBQITHWW shines.
Liv was in town, and my entire family decided to descend upon the ranch this weekend in celebration. That was six Solises, five dogs, and Graham. I believe Graham may have been slightly outnumbered.
On Saturday morning, we woke up at some godawful hour to the sound of my father waking up Jose. Texas Monthly, it seems, did an article this month on the best barbeque in the state. A little joint in Lexington came in first*, and apparently it's become so popular since the article that they're plumb out of barbeque by 9:30 in the morning. Jose and my father made it a mission to get some before they ran out.
I slept a little more, though, I was up and by ten, and Graham and I were on the road by ten thirty to go to Austin and drop off my bike. It took us about an hour to get through the packet pickup/wander through the Expo/get my bike in the right spot/buy some gear and sunglasses, and we were back at the ranch by two. I didn't stay for the course overview or the advice seminars, since I did the course last year. I did, though, drive the bike part of the course, so I could refamiliarize myself with some of the hills.
We got back to the ranch by 1:30, and after eating the barbeque (it was pretty good, especially the brisket) most of the day was spent lounging around and watching old West Wing episodes. At some point, birthday gifts were exchanged, and my dad got a lovely hammock from me and my mom. Graham test drove it for a few hours.
The afternoon ended with a very competitive bocce tournament. Me and Claudia against my dad and Liv. Jose acted as line judge. No one (but Jose) stood up off the grass or really put down their drink throughout the whole tournament, and the wild card was Chicken, who would run out and move balls at will. It seemed as if she was actively working against Liv and my dad, as Claudia and I ended up winning 11 to 3.
My dad's birthday dinner is always seafood gumbo, a recipe handed down from his mother to his wife and children. He was sick last week, during his actual birthday, so we had the gumbo on Saturday night. This would probably turn out to be a really, really bad idea on my part.
I ended up in bed by 9:30, my alarm set for 4:15 the next morning.
At some ungodly hour of the morning, my cell phone announced it was turning itself off and therefore would not set off the alarm. I was prepared for this, though, and had set my heartrate monitor to alarm too. And it wasn't like I was going to get much sleep.
I rolled out of bed, got dressed in the dark, put the sleepy pooches in my parents' room, and found Graham had also rolled out of bed and gotten dressed. I told him a few times that he didn't have to come with me, but he'd have none of it.
By 4:45, we had me, my stuff, Graham, and his four double shots of Starbucks espresso in the car and on the way to Austin. We weren't exactly chipper, but we were awake. I double checked on the road to make sure my timing chip had been put in with my stuff.
We got to the Expo Center at 5:45ish, but it took another 20 mintues to park, because so many people were there. I made it to the transition area at around 6:30, and I left my helmet, water bottles, bike shoes, running shoes and headband on a towel next to my bike. I found someone to sharpie my numbers on my arms and legs, and I wandered around for few minutes to wait for Graham. He made it in by around 6:45, commenting later that it was like the husband Butan Death March, with guys pushing strollers and hauling lawn chairs on foot while their athletes were shuttled the mile and a half to race site on school busses. Someone offered him $5 for his last Starbucks espresso. He declined.
We found a place to camp out and wait for my wave to be called, and we sat down for a while on a serape and watched the chaos. Someone announced that there were over 3,000 competitors here. Graham commented that a student of the female form would be well advised to attend one of these events, as there were women of all shapes and sizes wandering around in fairly skin tight attire. The weather, it must be said, didn't feel all that bad. There was cloud cover, and a fairly strong breeze. It was early enough in the morning that the temperatures hadn't really risen yet, and I felt that it was a pretty good day.
At around 7:00, someone sang the National Anthem, and the race started shortly afterwards. I got up to watch the elite athletes swim, and one of them kicked some serious ass, finishing the swim course in a little over 12 and a half mintues. I was in wave number 13, so I had about 45 minutes to wait after the first wave went. We continued to people watch, and I tried to relax as much as possible.
I wasn't all that nervous, per se. I was a bit apprehensive, and my stomach was a bit jittery. It bothered me a little that we had a celebration right before I went to bed the night before. But, I forced myself to relax. When they were calling wave nine to the water, I got up, kissed Graham (who gave me inspriational pep talk using the Rocky trainer voice), and went to the water to wait for my wave to be called.
It felt like it took forever, but it also felt like it went really fast. There was a woman giving cheesy inspriational talk to the athletes right before they took off, and occassionally they'd hand the mic to a crowd member to root on a particular athlete. One little girl said "Go Mommy! And remember that no matter what happens, we still love you very, very much." The crowd laughed at that.
The wave ahead of me went, and we were ushered into the water. I got to one side and got down. It was colder than I thought it'd be, and I wanted to get used to it. I got my heartrate monitor set to push "start" with the count down, and I waited. I didn't really pay that much attention to the women around me. I knew that we were wearing green swim caps; the wave ahead of us, blue; the wave behind, red. My stomach churned a little, but I willed it to calm down. I willed myself to relax. I told myself not to go to fast, not to panic, not to worry if I ran someone over or if someone ran over me.
I heard the countdown from 20, and I stared at my heart rate monitor for the duration. When they got to "1", I hit "start", then I hit "lock" and then I started swimming. I was really proud of myself, because I didn't hurry it. I just swam a nice, even stroke. There was a big yellow bouy about 150-200 meters in front of me, and I needed to get to it. I think I was towards the front of the pack at first. I could feel myself swimming past other people, but I was trying to get out of the way so I could just swim without having to worry about what was in front of me. I passed someone in a blue swimcap holding on to one of those floating noodles fairly early on, and she cheered me on.
I turned at the bouy and I just concentrated on the second bouy, not worrying about the third and fourth and then the stretch home. There were more blue caps ahead of me, and it seemed like there were quite a few green caps around me. It seemed like swimmers who were pausing concentrated at the bouys, maybe using them as a goal, maybe seeing that there was a cluster to use for moral support.
Somewhere between the second and third bouy, I was hit hard with a stomach cramp. It hurt so hard that I thought that I was hit with appendecitis, and every breath that I took was excruciating. I switched over to breast stroke, but I think I might have picked up the pace a little too. I suppose I could have waved down one of the swim angels and clung on to something or had them drag me out of there, but that didn't really occur to me. I just knew that I had to keep on going and ignore the pain or else I could be in serious, serious trouble. I got to the fourth bouy and started heading back to shore. At this point, I was passed by the first red cap, but I was still passing blue and some green caps. I got so excited to see shore that I switched back to freestyle and started swimming hard. The pain subsided quite a bit in this last 200 meters, and by the time I got out of the water (25 minutes and change after I got into the water), I was feeling much better.
I'll say now that I was a little disappointed when I looked at my watch after getting out of the water, but now I'm amazed. I swam two minutes and 13 seconds slower than last year, but looking at the results, I placed only 32 spots lower. Had I matched last year's time, I would have gone UP 280. Looking back on it, I think the wind played a considerable factor, as the water was pretty choppy and there was a bit of a current. I think EVERYONE swam a little slower, and given that I was in severe pain for a good hunk of that swim, I did pretty outstanding.
I hauled myself up the hill, and halfway up, I saw Graham shouting his head off for me. I got to my bike, changed into my shoes, shirt, headband, sunglasses and helmet, and I got to the bike start. I beat my transition time from last year by over a minute.
Right as I hopped on my bike, I saw Graham again, rooting me on.
My bike ride was less than I hoped for. I was, for some weird reason, having a lot of trouble with my gears. It took me awhile to get comfortable riding, and I think I severely miscalculated the benefits of spin class over getting on my bike and riding. Last year, I remember passing a lot of people on the straightaways, and even on some smaller hills. This year, it took me forever to pass someone. I didn't really feel all that sluggish from the swim, and the cramp was totally gone.
I didn't really struggle as much on the hills as much as I did last year, but I did have a hell of a major problem with the wind. Right around the middle of the bike ride, I was trying to get over further on the right, the wind caught me, and couldn't get my feet out of my toe clips before I toppled over. That was sort of embarrassing. By the end of the ride, I just wanted it to be over. It took an hour and six minutes, a full ten minutes more than last year.
This was the area that I thought I'd have the most improvement, and I think it was probably a really, really good lesson for me that I didn't. I was relying on my experience from last year to pull me through, and I didn't bother to train all that much. Or at all if you don't count spin class as training. My legs are used to the round and round motion, but I don't really know what I'm doing in terms of maximizing the features of my bike and most efficiently getting into gear. It's something I need to work on, and I think it's something that I'll probably enjoy quite a bit when I figure it out.
Again, I shaved a minute off of my transition time from bike to run.
The run was unremarkable, except it was getting really hot by that point, and I probably was already starting to fatigue severely. Maybe it was hot during the bike too, but I was too frustrated to notice. I was tired, and probably dehydrated in the run, and I walked probably the first mile of it. Pride took over after that, and I started running in intervals. I'd pick a marker ahead of me to run to, then another to walk to, then another to run to. It seemed to take forever, and again, I was six minutes slower than I was last year.
I finally got to the finish line, and again, I saw Graham cheering me on as I got closer and closer to the end. They called my name as I crossed over, and someone handed me water while someone else put a medal around my neck. I walked towards the exit and someone got the chip off my ankle. Graham found me and hugged me and kissed me and told me he was so proud of me. I downed the water and sort of dazedly looked at him. And I said, "Oh my god, that was so hard." He hugged me some more and told me I was amazing.
I found my bike and gear in the transition area, checked out, and Graham and I started the long walk back to the car. I bitched about the mile and a half on top of the 16 plus I'd already done that day, but it was probably good for me to keep moving. I think it ultimately took us about 45 minutes from my finishing the race to finally getting out of there.
We drove straight back to the ranch, and we took a shower as soon as we got there. After my shower, I sat downstairs under a fan, talking to my mom about the race, and I started to get really cold. I thought it was the air conditioning, or the fan, and it didn't occur to me that there was something wrong with ME. I retreated to a couch, got under a quilt and the blanket I had grabbed and fell asleep for a few hours. Graham claimed the other couch, not needing any covers.
I woke up a few hours later, and I did what I could to spend as much time with my sister and her dog before they left for California. Crianza played a little with Chicken, which was good to see as she was terribly, terribly jealous. Zapata declared his undying love. Relampago asked for more barbeque.
I had a headache, though I wasn't as cold.
At around six thirtyish, we drove back to Houston, and I was still feeling a little uggy. Graham made me drink gatorade.
We got home and I wasn't feeling like doing anything more than watch the end of Trading Places and the beginning of I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. I made myself some pasta, and Graham got something more substantial from the bar down the street.
Yesterday, I was still feeling run down and headachy and awful. So I called in sick, slept a lot, and spent most of the day sitting on the couch, knitting a baby blanket for my trainer and his wife, and watching most of Season 2 of Buffy.
This morning, I woke up, logged all of the last two weeks of training on my training log and went to the gym. Wooch took it easy on me, and I'll go to a spin class tonight.
All in all, I feel pretty good about this race, even though there were a lot of not-so-great things that happened in it. I certainly didn't make my goal of beating last year. I missed it by 15 minutes. But, I learned a lot about myself, and I think that it's a good thing that I had a setback. I didn't train all that much for it, and it showed. I didn't prepare the day before for it as I should have, and I paid for that. I have something more to work for now, and I think that I'm keenly aware of what I need to do from here on out.
I need to run more. I haven't really run all that much since I did the half marathon a year and a half ago. I half-heartedly started training for another one last fall, but I lost motivation for that once my winter schedule started getting hairy. I run maybe three miles a week nowadays, which is better than four or five months ago, but it's not anything particularly exciting.
I need to bike more. I don't feel comfortable on my bike, and I think that I could easily do so with time on it. It's something I need to work on considerably.
I need to swim more in open water, and go to swim class more often. The latter is easier to accomplish than the former, though there is a place that I can go for open water training that's not too far away.
I need to change my eating habits again. I've fallen off the wagon considerably in the last eight months or so, and while I know that I've been better the last few weeks, I need to continue that.
I need to take the races more seriously. Just because I can finish doesn't mean that should be my only goal. Training is important, and the race isn't just about that day, it's about the months leading up to that day. That was an important lesson from the half-marathon, and I didn't learn it well enough.
I need to remember why I do this. Two years ago today, my heart got smushed to the point that I seriously doubted that I'd ever recover. And the recovery method that I chose was to concentrate on myself, to challenge myself, do to things for myself that only I can do. Everyone I know says that I'm a better person, more Me-ish, if that makes any sense, because of that recovery method, and just because I'm better than I ever was before I got hurt so badly doesn't mean that I can slack off on that recovery. My having the most wonderful person I've ever met come into my life doesn't mean that I can stop worrying about the me-things that I need to worry about. I was horribly, horribly broken, and I can't ever let that happen again.
There's a race in August that I'm thinking about doing, and another in October. The October race may be conflicted with my cousin's wedding, but I hope that I can somehow or another pull it off.
*The best barbeque in the whole wide world made the list, of course. It seems, though, that the reviewers had a brisquet bias, where as pork is really where TBBBQITHWW shines.