February 6, 2008
tracking information is vital to measuring performance and improvement
As I mentioned in the last post, I'm keeping track of where I'm at step-wise, and weight-wise, every day. Or close to everyday, as I do sometimes forget. Still, the fact that I'm paying attention seems to be paying off.
I'm not consistently hitting 10,000 steps a day, but I'm getting closer. And while I manage to forget my weight about a half-hour after I get off the scale, I'm still left with the sense that either I'm losing, I'm maintaining, or I'm gaining.
For the most part, it's been losing. I'm trying to keep to the Michael Pollan plan (eat food... not too much... mostly plants). In spite of several evening events this week, in spite of a beer and some cassoulet, in spite of a day where I barely ate any plants at all, I am very slowly losing. I mean, slowly. And that's exactly how I want it.
....
Not surprisingly, I've had some interesting walks. One day, I walked to the MAX (about 20 minutes), got off at the grocery store, loaded up my bags, and then repeated the process home. I learned that I'm not crazy about carrying groceries for any distance.
Another day, I planned to walk to my favorite cafe in town, about 4.5 miles. But once I got outside, it was raining, and then it was snowing, and then this didn't seem to be such a great idea. So again, I walked to the MAX and took it part of the way there, and then walked through the neighborhood. It still took me a while, and by the time I got to the MAX, my socks were already socked. Thank g-d they were wool, so they were still warm. Not long after I got off MAX, my pants and shoes were soaked too. But it was still a good walk, and a fairly long one, the sort that made me very blissfully tired.
.....
The other night I went to a fantastic potluck with Julia Child as the theme. We had all read Child's My Life in France, and our hostess made the most fabulous cassoulet. I struggled for days trying to think of something vegan to make that would appeal to the other guests, and also something that would not require an entire day of cooking.
It was quite a relief to come across the Salade Composee from The French Chef Cookbook, which is just marinated veggies & beans on top of salad greens. In spite of that, it was quite elegant.
Salade Composee
for the vinaigrette
1-2 Tablespoons wine vinegar or lemon juice
a smidge of salt
fresh ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon dijon or dry mustard
6-8 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oilfor the salad
a can of borlotti beans, rinsed & drained (you can use any kind)
raw zucchini sliced
raw mushrooms sliced
salad greens
cherry tomatoes
nicoise olives
fingerling or banana potatoes, chopped into bitesized pieces
parsleyObviously, the idea is to make a nice salad with what you have on hand. I think marinating asparagus and green beans, and then grilling would be an excellent addition. If I were still eating fish, I'd add a good European tuna packed in olive oil. Easter egg radishes would be pretty, and grilled zucchini or carrot slices would be nice, too.
- cook the fingerling potatoes in salted water for about 10 minutes, or until tender
- create the vinaigrette by placing all the ingredients in a bowl, and whisking until combined
- marinate beans, zucchini, mushrooms and potatoes in vinaigrette for 20-30 minutes
- dress the greens lightly and arrange on a planter. Mound the food items in their own pyramids. Sprinkle a little more vinaigrette and chopped parsley on top
But most of the time, I come home from work, and we impromptu decide what we're going to eat. This isn't the best of all possible worlds as we're invariably both hungry, which leads us to eating canned soup and fake meat sandwiches.
So I actually did some research on what we could make in that sort of instance, and came up with Jacque Pepin's Cold Black Bean Soup. It being winter, I warmed it up a little.
Black Bean Soup
a large can of black beans
olive oil
hot sauce
several cloves of garlic
salt
veggie broth
cilantro
lime
avocado
- puree part or all of the black beans with some olive oil
- add hot sauce, garlic and salt to taste
- add enough broth to make it creamy
- heat and serve, garnished with chopped cilantro & chunked avocado. A squirt of lime really brings it to life.
adding salsa is another variant that is very good.
....
And, I've been knitting like a fiend. I'm working on a baby blanket for a cow-orker and it really is turning out gorgeously, I gotta say. Of course I don't have a picture, are you kidding?
My local yarn shop has gotten slipper bottoms in, so I can begin making slippers for everyone I know once I finish said baby blanket.
And the embers armwarmers are excruciatingly close to done. I just need to spend a little bit more time on them.
I'm planning to start going through my stash and dunging it out. Stuff with labels I may try to sell, stuff without I'll probably donate. I'm ridiculously excited about this... It's part of my decluttering effort, which is moving glacially slowly. But, it's moving.
permalink February 6, 2008 | Comments (1) | TrackBack
January 18, 2008
Stairway to Heaven
My cow-orkers called the route, the Stairway to Heaven. They weren't just a kidding. It didn't end up being a long walk, clocking in under 3 miles, but it was one of the hardest walks I've done recently (and an example of all the conditioning I've lost).
We moseyed through downtown and the PSU campus to 12th & College, climbing the first hill over the freeway. There at 12th & College is a public staircase, one of many in Portland. A couple of guys in much better shape than us mentioned that it had 179 steps. Luckily for us, there were landings perhaps every 50 steps or so.
The staircase was so step that I couldn't look down towards the city from the landings -- and I'm not usually scared of heights.
It was a great walk. Once we were up the stairs, we were on Cardinell, and we walked back down the hill and back into the city. Just like that.
permalink January 18, 2008 | Comments (0) | TrackBack
March 26, 2006
the walking season begins!
Yesterday was the start of the walking season. It was opening day at Portland Fit.
I wasn't feeling so hot. However, a coworker has joined, and has been checking in with me every couple of days about walking, and I was anxious to see my community of walkers and runners, so I went, telling myself that I could bail before the walk if I was still feeling bad.
The pavement was wet, and the skies were grey, but the crowds were huge. I immediately saw a number of people, and loved the fact that they called out my name upon seeing me. It's one thing to be known by sight, but a person's name is the sweetest sound.
So it felt like old home week. I chatted with lots of folks, and I'm sure missed others—like Hollie, where was Hollie?—it felt really good.
We did our three mile walk—up and back on industrial Naito Drive—and it felt good. I talked to some new people, and some folks I recognized. And it was fun, with the exception of two folks who were clearly hungover and were complaining the whole while. I had to remind myself that I had to figure out how not to be hungover on Saturday mornings—it was part of the learning process. But the complaining!
Marathon training isn't an easy thing. It's not impossible, and really, if you do the program, it's not very often hard. But it does require work, laying the groundstone with your first formal walk, and it does require some commitment: getting up early on Saturdays, and giving up the staying out late and carousing on Friday nights.
I think this was part of why I wasn't such a great AC—I don't have a lot of patience with those sorts of complaints. Do it or don't do it. In the end, we each have to take responsibility for following through. And it's not like I don't complain—I do. I don't follow through sometimes.
Heavens knows, I've had a rough winter where I didn't exercise much, and all my hard work in the way of fitness and diet disappeared. While I'm amazed at how quickly it happened, I'm the one who chose to focus on other things.
I'm excited about the fresh start. The new beginning. Spring!
permalink March 26, 2006 | Comments (2)
January 30, 2006
good day
It's been a good day. It's 9pm and I'm exhausted, probably both from travel and exercise. Today I have done some housecleaning, walked most of the way to work, brought a snack and lunch so I wouldn't eat out, went to the killer Monday pilates class, learned some furious gossip from a coworker, broke down and brought Pinky home in Sweetie's truck, made a yummy pasta and salad for dinner, hung out with Sweetie while he brewed beer on the back porch, and went through a bag of stuff from the Computer Lab/Festival of paper products.
Walking in was lovely. It had rained, it was going to again, but momentarily, it wasn't. There's nothing to really write home about in the walk—it was pleasant and made me feel good.
One of the cats has suddenly become a dramatic hairballer, made even more dramatic by coming home to piles of it everywhere. This morning, I threw on my yellowjacket, and I was halfway to work before I realized that I was wearing a dried-up hairball on the jacket. No, really, not making that up.
Pilates was another thing altogether. Exhibit A, the sadist instructor. I like her cuz she gives a hard class, but, you know, sometimes it can be a bit much. Exhibit B, my sudden awareness of flab. I know I might I have gained a few pounds from all the good tex-mex I ate at J. and A.'s, but as I looked at my body in the mirror doing plies, I couldn't kid anyone—tex-mex is not my only problem. Yes, I have gained back weight, and sadly, yes, it's visible.
Still, I worked hard, and when I went back to work, I felt absolved of all worry and cares. And I'm going to hurt tomorrow. I hurt vaguely already.
Tonight makes my second day in a row making something homemade for dinner. Yesterday, mac and cheese, today, pasta with garlic-oil sauce with crab (hold on to yer britches, it's from a can) with a caesar salad. I can't tell you how much pleasure I've felt making dinner. Hopefully I'll feel more pleasure about cleaning up the dishes tomorrow morning.
permalink January 30, 2006 | Comments (1)
January 9, 2006
From today's paper
At 94, an avid walker treks 100 miles weekly
About 18 months ago, he decided to walk 100 miles during his birthday week. He made 114. "The more I walked," he says, "the more I liked it and the better I felt, so I kept on walking." He now walks at least 100 miles every week.
Gailey's one-day record is 31.6 miles; his record for a week is 186.2. Last June, he walked 710 miles. He's been known to start at 5:30 a.m. and log six miles before breakfast. "It gives you a good appetite," he says.
— http://www.oregonlive.com/living/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/living/1136602514111400.xml&coll=7
I love the idea of this. But sheesh, that's an average of 14.29 miles a day! I suppose that would keep me out of trouble!!
permalink January 9, 2006 | Comments (0)
January 3, 2006
Death march??
As I look out the window, I see it's drizzling. We're supposed to do the Death March* this noon. Will it happen? Do I have enough clothes?
* The Salmon Street Death March, that is. It's walking from the Salmon Street Springs (at the Waterfront) up the hill to Washington Park, a little more than 3 miles round trip.
permalink January 3, 2006 | Comments (0)
October 25, 2005
Who are you, and how do you know my name?
Vicki, your tires! You need to inflate your tires!
Huh? I look over in disbelief. The voice doesn't sound like anyone's I know. The speaker then says:
I own a bike shop.
Huh?
I still have no idea who he was, or how he knew my name. But, thanks, unknown bike shop owner!
I get home, and Sweetie and I go to a new brewpub near by. We walk in, and there's one of my PFit coaches. So I go over to say hi, and she tells me that she found my blog, and what is a blog exactly anyways? We had a great conversation.
Once Sweetie and I have consumed a pitcher of Jubelale, I tell him about the Cask Ale Festival this weekend, and he reminds me that I was planning on walking a half on Sunday. I haven't been training at all for the half, so part of me is like - I have to rethink this. Another part is: you need to do a thirteen miler, why not just do the half. And then there's the ego that says, but I'm not going to PR on this race. I'm probably going to have a lousy slow race time, so I shouldn't sign up at all.
It's clear I need to make a decision. I've been drinking a lot of beer this summer, which I enjoy, but there is a cause and effect there. If I'm going to get serious about walking, I need to really cut back on the beer drinking. Sigh. At least there's still chocolate.
So I did pump up the tires on Sweetie's bike this morning, and had a really nice ride in. But I'm a bit scrambled. For example, I got all the way down the street before I realized that the breeze was going through my hair—damn, my helmet! It's still in the shed! Go back, get helmet. Pass by the church where Katie's funeral will be and start to cry. Start thinking about my other elderly neighbors...
permalink October 25, 2005 | Comments (2)
September 28, 2005
my day of overdoing it
Then, I rode Sweetie's bike home. No news there. I luff his bike.
Then I went to pilates. On the way, I found two more bike lane stencils that were new to me! Then, I got to class, and my instructor tried to kill me. She was concentrating on glutes. Of course, pilates on Monday was all about glutes. And bicycling is all about glutes. And walking uphill. I tried chanting Nietzsche, like that did a lot of good. So after class, my hair is wet, my whole body is wet with sweat. I guess that worked.
Of course, this morning I woke up and every inch of me hurt. So I listened to one of Sheldon Brown's podcasts about English 3-speeds and the Oyster Band (I found this via Fritz at cyclelicio.us). Tszuj had mentioned Mr. Brown the other day when I was fumbling with bike-speak, but I had not visited his site. The podcast was totally too cool. I'm hooked. Last night I was a podcast virgin—now I am a devotee.
It was cold enough this morning, riding in, that I thought: I've got to wear tights in the morning. I've got to dry my hair. I've got to get a wool Buff. My skirt, which is too long, kept getting caught in the rear wheel. That was easy enough to remove but kinda a pain all the same. I was running late, so I was moving fast—but made my appointment. I give it the ment0s thumbs-up!
And thank you, all, for the suggestions on the breakfast. I hadn't even thought of fruit and/or hardboiled eggs. I'm still game for suggestions, and I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to pull this all off. The breakfast I'm hosting is Friday morning at 8am... and it would be very nice to bring everything in by bicycle. The bakery I'd like to get some of the croissant type things at opens at 7. I haven't figured out where to get the coffee—the building coffee shop could cater it, no doubt cheaply, but it's not really good coffee. And I want this all to be super special, super nice. Cuz I loves my Bike Commute Challengers!
Today's Question: how do you judge a liquor store? Here in Oregon, we sell all hard liquor in liquor stores (with a few exceptions). They vary wildly, from Soviet style commissaries to lush IKEAs (okay, maybe that isn't a good juxtaposition). I don't drink liquor at home, so I'm not a real good judge of what makes a liquor store good. Are there speciality liquors they should stock? What sorts of cool things should I be looking for? Any help here is appreciated.
permalink September 28, 2005 | Comments (2)
September 26, 2005
And now for something completely different...
Hair
So, Friday, I went to the hairdresser with three options. Keep it long, do a cleopatra bob, or do this short-short cut. She chose the latter and went to work. It's beautiful. Really really short—so much so that a number of acquaintances haven't recognized me.
It was really fun. I like my hairdresser a lot, and trust her implicitly. Her boyfriend came by with the kids, and it was just sweet. Everyone friendly and outgoing, like a party going on in the shop. Loved it!
I got home and immediately got online and saw all the alt-chicks with their bobs, and thought, maybe I did the wrong thing. And then I thought, I'm not an alt-chick. I'm a middle-aged woman. No one is going to mistake me for Bettie Page, and that's fine.
I thought I'd miss playing with my hair, twisting it into a knot on the back of my head, swishing it around. But I don't, at all. If anything, washing my hair is especially pleasurable, as the hair on top of my head feels so thick and luxuriant. And my sweetie can't seem to keep his hands out of my hair.
Walk
I went to PFit on Saturday, albeit late, and did the walk. 7 miles. It seemed like nothing! It was great. It felt so good and there were so many interesting things to look at. I kept up a good pace, and felt just lovely and strong. It was super chilly so I was bundled up, but it was also clear and sunny.
This makes me think that my bad experience of a couple weeks ago was just that—a bad experience. And if I would have just tried it again, I probably could have gotten on track to do Portland. But it is probably good for me to take a bit of a break. And it will be great to work a water station, and maybe, walk someone in.
Oh. And Lance Armstrong gave me a thumbs up.
Am I delusional? I might be. I was coming to the end of my walk, and I had just gotten an excellent photograph of the absolute best bike path stencil in Portland so I was entirely blissed out. I was thrilled too that I had caught up with someone who had started 45 minutes ahead of me as well. So my heart was full to bursting with joy.
And then this guy drove by, in an old Jeep. He looked a lot like Lance Armstrong. In fact, he looked a lot like Lance Armstrong if he was trying to pass as a normal guy. And, he gave me a thumbs up.
I prefer to believe that it was Lance. But, who knows?
Bike
Sunday morning, I met up with the Slug Velo group for their Statuary in September ride. I like this group a lot—it seems to have a good cross-section of normal people and the bike-obsessed, and there's always a kid or two.
This month's ride visited George Washington, Joan of Arc, the moose, the volunteer, Portlandia, Abe Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, and Skidmore Fountain, meandering through eastside, from 57th and NE Sandy to the Hawthorne Bridge, then to the Park blocks, and Saturday market.
It's always easier riding with a group, and it's fun too. I chatted with Dale, the recumbent rider, about his bike, and the electric assist I thought he had. He told me a bit about the former electric assist, but I definitely didn't get the impression he liked it.
Another person had an electric assist: in fact, the bike was so new that this was her first ride on it, and she hadn't yet tried the assist. It was really sharp looking and I'm looking forward to learning how it's working out for her. The setback of the rear wheel doesn't look far enough back to support an xtracycle, and I think we all know how xtracycle-obsessed I am. But it seems quite economical.
permalink September 26, 2005 | Comments (4)
September 21, 2005
winded
On my ride home, I was still cranky about a California-plated SUV driver who was adamant that I ride in front of her across Broadway—four lanes of traffic speeding directly at me, about a block away. I did get across the road, cursing myself for giving in to her "kindness", and then every stop sign required a stop. Get up some speed, then, stop. Repeat. Okay. Fine. Remember, Vicki, you're a good rider. You obey traffic laws (when other vehicles are around). Even though my adrenaline had my heart in my throat.
I'm waiting at a stop sign when I hear a voice behind me saying hi. It's Ali, one of my PTC teammates, also on her bike, natch. We chat, and then she says those words that freeze you in your tracks: I read your blog.
I met Jessamyn West at a party once. I followed her journal, so when we were introduced, I said so. That creeps me out, she replied. I wasn't expecting that. Hell, she posts her journal online, and I'm telling her it's interesting enough that I read it, and she's creeped out?? I didn't really get it then, but I do now.
There are all these invisible people (to me) who read a blog, and then there are the ones that make contact. When you meet the ones who have made contact, it's not weird, really. So why is it weird when someone you know socially tells you they read your blog? I don't know, really. It makes me confused, because, honestly, why shouldn't Ali read my blog? I mean, it's a compliment, dagnab it!
Anyways, I think I got over my initial freak-out quickly, probably by trying to get up the little Dishman hill, and was just enjoying talking with her. What a nice coincidence! I thought about it afterwards—bicycling as a form of social interaction. Pretty darn cool.
If I were scootering, would we have talked? Probably not. If we were on the bus—maybe. But that is one of the beauties of bicycling or walking—you have these opportunities to interact, to be friendly. Nice.
We parted about a block from my house. She shouted something; I couldn't distinguish what she said from the traffic. I wanted to say goodbye, and say, hey, my house is a block up and it's a nice through street (though not as through as others), and great to see you, nice talking to you, and thank you for reading my blog, but, no.
This morning I rode Pinky in. Not as fun as Sweetie's bike. Oh, that pains me to say that! But true. It was a nice ride, cool, sunny, absolutely beautiful. I loved seeing all my regular peeps: the karate guy, the ham radio operator who always walks the esplanade loop, the friendly homeless folk.
I swooped into the garage (whuhoo, I swooped! Shouldn't that by itself be the highlight of my day?), and then saw the guy, who I used to consider an ally, who is proposing outsourcing my work. I rode behind him, and I wanted to shout, So, So-and-so, are you outsourcing my job?, but then I thought that the combination of me bearing down on him (even on a pink cruiser bicycle with silk flowers on the basket) was probably too aggressive. So I just said hi, and I meant to ask him about it, but then a couple of other cyclists came through, and that was that.
So in the end, I didn't ask. I don't trust that he'd give me a truthful answer anyways. If I was in his position, would I?
Oh, and so far in the Bike Commute Challenge, I have ridden 78 miles. This doesn't count the couple of times I've bicycled to lunch, done errands, biked to dinner in Northwest, gotten bored and taken a longer route, etc. 78 miles!
I decided this morning to take a look at other daily Portland blogs. I know they exist, I even follow some of them, for heavens sakes. But doing a blog search only turned up three useful hits (in the 80 I bothered to skim). Interesting.
I'm kinda obsessed, again, with alt.portland, and working on a redesign so it looks new as well as is new. I have been working on a daily blog for it, which I haven't announced there. I don't want to announce it til I have a number of entries, and now I have a number of entries, but... But I think when I get the redesign finished, I'll move the blog to the front page, and the front page to an about page. Exciting stuff, huh? Oh, the minutia!
permalink September 21, 2005 | Comments (2)
September 5, 2005
A long weekend with little to show for it.
Well, I'm at the end of another long weekend, and what do I have to show for it? Not a whole lot. I'm within spitting distance of finishing moving alt.portland to MT, so that's very exciting. But I keep falling into reading about New Orleans and Katrina, which just fills me with so much anger and helplessness.
Really, it's been that kind of weekend. Saturday morning, I decided I was going to either walk 30K or 6 hours, whichever came first. I started out at 5am, pitch black outside, and started walking from my place to the PFit meeting area. My neighborhood is still described in the media as sketchy, and I admit, I was a little nervous. I decided to stick to main, well-lit streets.
Mind you, I love walking at night. Love it. The quiet, the cool, the stillness. And it was. Barely any traffic, barely anyone else walking around. I saw several people, and that was fine—it was cool, they were cool, I was cool.
I walked past a car dealership, which had a second floor balcony that I had never before noticed. Security guards were patrolling it, and seemed particularly interested in me. Hello, if I were an ecoterrorist, would I be wearing a wildly flowered skort? I mean, really?
It was beautiful crossing the Broadway Bridge, with the sky becoming light, and then walking into the deserted Pearl district. Once I was into NW proper, I got nervous. There were three guys, drunk, carrying another case of beer, side by side, shouting at each other as if they were a block away. Add some misogynist terms for women, and oh boy. I slowed down. They turned off two blocks later.
So that's the good part. I did a 12 mile route with PFit, walking with one of the slowest walkers. She told me about losing 50# in the last year, which totally made me feel like a slacker. About 5 miles in, I ran into Hollie and stopped to chat with her, which was great.
By the time I got started again, I really was the last walker, and I never did catch up. By the time I hit the route's 10 mile mark, I was really hurting, and I had been out for 5 hours at that point. So. I had walked only about 13 miles in 5 hours. Yikes. I thought about finishing just for the sake of finishing, but for some reason, I had told Sweetie that I would be home around 10, and here it was after 10. Of course, there are no pay phones, because everyone in the US other than me has a cellphone. Finish, be in pain, don't call Sweetie or call late? They just didn't seem like good options.
I have to admit, it all demoralized me. 13 miles in 5 hours?! Jeez! Was I just going too slow out there? Is there a too slow? Or am I this out of shape?
I don't have an answer. I wish I did. It makes me really sad.
I was hoping that today I could do a middlish walk, 8 miles or so, but it's looking inproblable with my goal of getting alt.portland done, and helping Sweetie restructure the kitchen.
permalink September 5, 2005 | Comments (4)
August 22, 2005
Serious weekend
I was running really late this morning, and was locking up the house when a homeless person walking down the street started panhandling me. She was rail-thin, missing some teeth, basically looking fairly dissheveled, pushing a grocery cart. Sheesh, it's not even nine, and I'm not even on a major street. After I murmured my regrets, she tried to fence two lawnchairs and two tiki torches. I wonder whose yard they came from?
Bicycling to work was unexciting, but it makes me grin from ear to ear.
...
I had a hardcore serious weekend this weekend! I mean, really!
Saturday, I went to the Portland CrossFit grand opening. I went towards the end, so nothing much was happening, other than the fact that Fran and her husband Tom had come down from Seattle. She and I have been corresponding for awhile, talking about good excuses to meet—and we finally had one!
Fran doesn't tend to post pictures of herself in her blog, but let me tell you this—she and her husband are adorable. So cute! And they are walking advertisements for CrossFit, really—they are both subtly strong and athletic-looking, and of course, very fit. Wow!
They of course are also nice and funny and quite enjoyable, as you might imagine from reading her blog. So we hung out at the beautiful new gym for awhile, then walked down the street for a cool drink, and later, went out for dinner.
Afterwards, we separately went on to Powell's. I found my copy of Portland's little red book of stairs : the city's ultimate guide to more than 150 curious and colorful outdoor stairways and encountered a man with the same, obscure tattoo as me. In the twelve years I've had this tattoo, I've never seen anyone else with it, and either had he. Pretty cool. Oh, and he also likes maps. I wish I had thought to take a picture.
My sweetie got a couple books on Portland history, we saw Tom one last time, and then headed home. And got stuck on the Broadway Bridge as it was opening. We watched it open, watched the pedestrians and bicyclists and a skateboarder collecting at the gate, watched the giant container ship being tugged out into the river. And then I looked into the sky and saw the moon—huge, orange, coming up from behind Mt. Hood.
I got out the camera and started snapping pictures. They didn't end up being so impressive, and I would have posted them here except my broadband crapped out this morning.
Sunday morning, I got up before g-d and proceeded to Vancouver, WA (aka Vancouver, USA) for a 30k (18.6 miles) walk. Though my 30k was doomed before I even left the house because I left late. For the first time in weeks, I made it to PFit on time.
I had also unwisely made plans at noon, not ever thinking that we might be having a benchmark on a Sunday, rather than a Saturday. So, I decided I would do a 4 hour walk instead of the 30k. I'm guessing I did 12-14 miles.
Everyone was all abuzz about Hood to Coast, and Portland to Coast, which is, ummmm, Friday! My walking coach asked me which legs I was doing... and I didn't know. Had I driven the course? Ummm, no. Then, I was checked out for a team—and had to say, umm, I'm already doing it. And apparently doing it half-assedly.
I feel like I'm in an odd sort of limbo, not really sure what to think of myself. I'm burnt out on long walks. My recent goals were all wrapped around walking. It's frustrating. I was chatting with an acquaintance about it who mentioned that she was getting very burnt out on running too, but she's now training for Tri's, and really enjoying it.
I'm desperate for some new goals, for something new to get me excited again.
permalink August 22, 2005 | Comments (3)
August 19, 2005
Map making
When I worked at Mathematical Reviews in 1989, someone in our office posted regularly to the electronic bulletin board, or whatever it was called. Her posts were full of personal details, of hearing music, going bicycling, cooking and eating—and almost always mentioned doing IT. I knew her personally, and I was also just amazed that she was just posting these, well, posts about nothing more than her life. And the posts were lively, well-written, very very enjoyable.
Six years later, I found David Siegel's online journal. Does anyone else remember those heady times? Wow, you can control web layout with tables! Too cool! (I'm totally thrilled that he still has the old website up)
I'm still feeling sick, but I've made it into work.
...
Perhaps you've read about the 91-year-old Sydney man walking every street in town in Boing boing. This seemed to intrigue Sweetie a quite a bit. If it could happen in Sydney, and London, and Manhattan, and Minneapolis, why not Portland?
At first I didn't take him seriously. This is a joke, right? It might be, I'm not sure. My initial response is that I'd rather do all of Portland's stairways.
Longtime Portland resident Stefana Young wrote the book on this category—literally. She got the idea for her just-published guide, PORTLAND'S LITTLE RED BOOK OF STAIRS, from the "Best Public Stairway" entry in WW's 1994 Best of Portland issue. Young, a self-described "free-lance PR flack," estimates that Portland has 9,000 public stair steps, and she set foot on all of them in the two years it took her to compile the book. Which Portland stairway was completed at the insistence of the late Bill Naito? Which was rescued from destruction in 1951 and relocated to a private house? Which is the most meandering? Young answers these questions and others, surveying more than 150 of the city's 165 public staircases. Pressed to name her favorite staircase, Young makes a "drippingly sentimental" choice: the "Elevator Stairs" between Southwest Broadway Drive and Hoffman Avenue, located near her childhood home.
from Willamette Week's Best of Portland 1997
But... maybe. I just need to figure out why I'd be doing it. It does seem to be a nice intersection of geography & walking. Reading about Phyllis Pearsall, the author of Geographer's A-Z (London) Street Atlas, is really very intriguing.
Phyllis Pearsall was a remarkable woman. Born in 1906 she had already lived a rather bohemian life as a writer, painter and traveler when in 1935 she got lost in London while using a 20 year old street map which was at the time the most recent available. Working from a bedsit in Horseferry Road (in SW1!) and with the aid of James Duncan - a draughtsman borrowed from her father, a Hungarian mapmaker, she began to catalogue the 23,000 streets that featured in the first edition. Working eighteen hour days she walked a total of 3,000 miles in compiling it.
from Phyllis Pearsall, the story of A-Z Maps
permalink August 19, 2005 | Comments (2)
August 18, 2005
sick, lazy, mediocre
Anyways, I'm severely pissed off about this combination of things, and the worst of it is that I'm really too sick to go to work—it isn't even an option.
Yesterday, I got lots of walking in. I walked with coworkers at lunch, and Jill got some gelato for us that was very good. Then after work, sweetie and I walked to the Rose Quarter, and waited for a bus. We waited easily long enough that we could have walked all the way home. I took lots of pictures, until the camera died.
In the evening, I went to KnitFlicks, a one-off at the Clinton Street Theatre. It was great. I met up with a friend, we got some beer from the new Clinton Street Theatre brewpub (which starts actually pouring their own brews Friday), and then settled into the theatre with maybe 50 other knitters.
Some of the lights were left on, so you really had the best (or the worst) of both worlds. We were watching an old Fred Astaire-Jane Powell chestnut, Royal Wedding, and it wasn't dark enough for good contrast. Me, I was knitting pale pink yarn on beige needles, and I couldn't see any difference. I could see the contrast on my friend's needles clearly—red shiny metal needles with maroon yarn.
No matter. It was a fun time, cute movie, a nice sort of community event that did not actually involve much interaction.
...
Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I am crazy about Portland. I seem unable to avoid this sort of thing—I was crazy about Ann Arbor and Detroit, as well. I'm fiercely devoted and attached, and the thought of leaving, well, it feels like a betrayal of sorts.
There have been an interesting series of articles in our determined mediocre newspaper—one a review of an LA restaurant transplanted to town; the other an article entitled Admit it, we're mediocre and don't care.
Unlike the author of the latter, I was not burning myself out previous to moving here, and I didn't move here for the "lifestyle". I moved here because I fell in love with someone here. Once I got here, I knew the economy sucked. And plenty else, too.
Anyways, I'm not sure where I'm going here except that I have this website that I'm trying to bring back to life, about Portland and what to do here, and I've been thinking—when I say something is good, are people seeing that as It's as good as NYC or Chicago or SF or LA? Obviously I'm no expert on any of those places. Or are they seeing it as it's quirky and good for Portland?
It's just set me to thinking, that's all.
I'm putting aforementioned website into movable type in the hopes of making it supersonic and supersearchable. I think, frequently, daily, about doing a plain old database, but this seems to be a quicker hack at this point. (Is this further proving the laziness of Portlanders? Or my desire to improve this quickly, thus showing hard work? Oh hell, how should I know).
permalink August 18, 2005 | Comments (2)
August 17, 2005
Cleaning up
I thought I had uploaded yesterday pics, so I could entertain you all with pictures of the two sylvester cats in a dog crate, but nooooooo! No such luck!
Today I walked to work. It felt like this huge accomplishment, like it was a monkey on my back that I just needed to—well, whatever it is you do with a monkey on your back. However, it was not exciting. It is overcast and misting. Chilly. I love this weather! It's not going to last, but I'm enjoying it while it's here.
As usual, a walk is good to kinda do some mental housecleaning. To put things into perspective. I have a lot of work to do. A lot of clutter to clear. But I'm feeling excited about it. I am reminded how much I can do if I just do a little bit every day. I managed to get my work email Inbox from 1200 to 24, and my work Sent email from 10,000 to 5406 (obviously, my work here is not yet done). Not overnight, but over the course of a couple months.
I also saw a bicyclist wipe out. It had just begun misting, which is the most dangerous time to be on two-wheeled conveyances, as the moisture combines with oil and other crud on the road to make it super slippery. Add braking or not using your full tire tread or both and you have the recipe for a wipe out. Poor guy. He was fine, but obviously embarrassed.
...
I fell into work, so I left late to get home for the eco-exterminator. So I was trying to make up time on the road. On my bicycle. I did okay, it's getting easier, but I really am spent by the first hill, and never really recover fully. The last two blocks of the ride, I ride in the middle of Fremont—big two-lane street. I was moving pretty fast, because I always try to when I'm dominating the lane, and a car comes up behind me and starts honking. Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!. This person had been stopped at a stop light and, hello, he must had sped up to tailgate me and honk at me. I rang the bell back. What can you do?
Luckily, the eco-exterminator was late, so I had lots of time to furiously fly around the house tossing things and generally trying to make the place look like it's not inhabited by beer-drinking, book and magazine-hording wolves. But not enough time for anything to look presentable.
I also had to catch the cats. The sylvester girls were effortless—they went into the bathroom without coaxing. Follette was another thing all together. After 45 minutes (!), I finally caught her, and put her in the bathroom. I was exhausted!
And all was fine until the eco-exterminator announces that the cats, the dog, and me, should all be out of the house while they spray. Of course we should. Why did your scheduler insist that the cats and dog and I didn't need to be outside, that the bathroom would suffice?
Anyways, Follette refused to go with the plan... much to my tremendous dispair. Not that she seems any worse for the wear.
permalink August 17, 2005
July 26, 2005
Groovy!
I finally feel back in my groove.
Yesterday, I was coming out of the doctor's office when I passed by a little old lady waiting for a ride. She was probably in her eighties, maybe older. As I was unlocking the scooter, she walked up to me and said:
I like your bike!
I do, too, thanks! I said, somewhat lamely.
It looks like fun.
The evening was just about perfect. We went to Powells Technical Books, then to a record store, then out for Thai, then to Reading Frenzy, then to gelato (I know, I feel like a poseur, but here, we don't have a lot of ice cream but we do have a lot of gelato), all via scooters. Then we got home and camped on the couch with the animals and the laptops and our stuff, and had a romantic evening in front of the fans.
This morning, I somehow awoke with a spring in my step, got my act together and then took it on the road. Okay, maybe not that good, but I watched a little bit more of the final stage of Tour de Lance, and then walked into work.
My sweetie announced to me that he plans to walk to work 4 days a week. It's so relaxing and enjoyable, he says. I had been trying to tell him that, and I am so pleased that he's in on the secret.
Anyways. Nice walk in. Cool and sunny. Several black cats, one who ran away, and another that ran up to me. I even got in to work early, and started getting things done...
permalink July 26, 2005
July 25, 2005
rhw
I am going to write a race report about Run Hit Wonder, honestly. In the meantime, here's the pics.
permalink July 25, 2005
July 24, 2005
25K Benchmark
Anyways. I made it to PFit on time!! I started on time!! and a block in, I tripped over a rock and landed on my knee! I didn't really hurt myself beyond my pride and getting a good bit of road rash, but I sat there for a second thinking, man, this is not an auspicious beginning! Then I got up, brushed myself off, and started walking again.
Intestinal distress struck next, about two miles in. I was going to try to make it to my office, and then it was clear that my body was not going to cooperate. Dammit! So I stopped at a cafe where I often eat breakfast—they weren't even open yet, but my regular waiter let me in.
Okay, that crisis was averted. Walk walk walk. On the Springwater Corridor, I spot my feral cats. The tiger kitten and one of the blackies were curled up together and the tiger was panting. Oh dear.
Walk walk walk, take pictures, walk. Suddenly I have this sharp pain in my toe. Ack! Did I just get bitten by something, through my sock and shoe? Walk walk walk.
Cross the Sellwood Bridge. Curse the Sellwood Bridge. The Sellwood Bridge needs to be replaced, and there is a very narrow sidewalk on one side. Try to share that with other runners/walkers/bicyclists, and you are bound to be very annoyed very quickly. Cyclists can't be in the road there—it's too narrow and dangerous. Ugh.
Get off the bridge. Run into a PFit volunteer who's checking on us stragglers. I tell him I'm taking pictures and not to have anybody wait on me, and we have a nice chat. Then I get to the aid station where everyone makes sympathetic noises about my knee scrape. I had forgotten about it at that point, but the sympathy makes it flare out in pain!
Walk walk walk. See a PFit volunteer who is in a lotus position, appearing like she has attained enlightenment. Impressive. My left hip begins to hurt.
It's all about my left side. Left knee scraped, left big toe bitten, now left hip killing me. I decide I'll make it to the Streetcar and call it good. That should mean I've walked about 12 miles or so.
I start the ritual IT band freakout. Oh my g-d, what if this is my IT band?! What do I do to make it happy again? Ack. River is beautiful. Path is beautiful. Small dogs, beautiful. The sun shines in the sky, and everything is beautiful. Oh, the little brass beaver statue! It's beautiful... oh, my intestines...
So I hurry up and make it to the motel across from my sweetie's work. Their bathroom is so beautiful. I love the foamy soap! I love the hot water. The bathroom smells of serenity.
I hobble out, and see the Streetcar heading up the hill. I consider following it, and then I just sit.
Maybe an hour later, I am finally back at PFit central. The volunteers here are camped out, with several people reclining in the SUV, and one on the parking lot. Some older folks walk by and give us the, oh, teenagers, when will they ever grow up? look. We're waiting for the last person. I learn that only one of them knows my first name, and another argues that the V should stand for Vespa. That becomes my nickname for the day.
I jump on the scoot and go on a mission. But there's no sign of the last person. Did she just go to her car? Is she lying injured somewhere? We know she was in Willamette Park, looking and feeling fine.
I go back and chat with John, and he says that yes, she generally goes directly to her car. Yikes! I really feel for the folks who are in charge, wanting to support everyone, yet many people never really checking in at the end. Did they just take the bus home downtown? Who knows?
I mention about my hip hurting and what can I do about my IT band, and someone kindly explains that the IT band makes your knee hurt, not your hip. They think the problem might be glutes overuse. Me, glutes overuse? Certainly you're thinking of someone else!
...
The rest of the day is a blur of retail therapy, picking up my Run Hit Wonder packet, and Tour de Lance. It's hard to believe that it's all over on Sunday—no more Tour this year, no more Lance other than over and over and over again in commercials.
permalink July 24, 2005
July 19, 2005
Commencement
Okay, today, I start again. Clean slate. Here we go!
I forgot, entirely forgot, that walking gives you the gift of time and observation. It gives you the time to really look at things, and the time to really hash stuff out.
This morning was sunny and cool. We opened up the house and turned on the fans, filling the house with chilly, sweet smelling air. This was particularly nice after having had a good night's sleep with the AC on, and Follette locked in with us. She ate a plate of wet food, and then snuggled like a fiend with us. Brilliant!
I managed a high-protein vegetarian breakfast -- fake sausage! Yay!! And while I left home late, I still walked and got into work on time. I was on the lookout for feral kittens, which Sweetie had mentioned that he had seen. But no such luck. I did see some new additions to a cool backyard, a lone breadseed poppy in a weedy front yard, and a cool old house with a massive second-floor sunroom.
I am always housing obsessed, and right now I am thoroughly garage and sleeping porch fixated. Garages are easy to find... but sleeping porches, not so. The other night I scootered by a cute house for sale, and low-and-behold, it had a sleeping porch. And was $600K. Oh well.
...
So, anyways. Clean slate. I walked in at a 16 minute/mile pace. Leisurely, but nice. I had thoughts of including some jogging, which I ignored. I feel like I've screwed up enough walks with that sort of thing. I need to do that, but it needs to be secondary.
Today I recommit myself to healthy living. Exercise! Eating decently! Aiming lower on the food chain! Damn straight!
permalink July 19, 2005 | Comments (3)
July 13, 2005
Salmon Street Death March
I just got back from doing the Salmon Street Death March with my coworkers. They are always quite entertaining to walk with, and going to the top of Salmon Street always raises my heart rate.
The route is almost 3 miles out and back, from the Salmon Street Fountain, up to the Washington Park Pillar. The death march aspect is the tremendous hill starting at 18th going up to the park.
As we were coming back down the hill, I thought about the Tour de France. No, really. I actually watched it last night, and over and over and over the announcers kept announcing that the riders were doing a downhill (downmountain?) going 100KMs an hour. Which is, 61 miles an hour. Which, you know, is pretty incredible.
That makes me want to roll into a fetal position. You know, to hide, not to go more easily down a hill.
We passed the farmers market—always a crowd scene—and then I took a picture of the metal things that go around trees, and I'm just sorta blissed out on the post-walk thing. We pass by the Church of Scientology Celebrity Centre and one of my coworkers sticks her head in the doorway and shouts Free Katie!
Can't take 'em anywhere...
permalink July 13, 2005 | Comments (3)
July 9, 2005
Another example how not to do things
You know, it's bad enough to have bad days during the week, but a person shouldn't ought to have them on the weekend. Oh well.
I think for the last couple nights I've had heartburn that I've slept through. On one hand, that's great, but on the other hand, I feel so crappy after a heartburn episode. I'm thinking I should see the doc about this, because an episode means that I'll have a couple of days where I feel really worn down, like I've got a bad cold or something. I'm really tired of this, and I'm sure this isn't helping my esophagus any.
Anyhow. Very groggy this morning. Got to PFit a couple minutes after the faster walkers left, but I got my tukkus in gear and started walking. 9 miles today was the route. I was wearing the heart rate monitor and paying attention to it. A 20 minute 60ish% warm up, followed by racewalking form at 65-70%. Sounds good, doesn't it? The recipe for success.
And then, I started thinking. Man, I have to stop thinking on Saturday mornings, it's really doing me more harm than good. Even though I knew that doing intervals had really screwed up last PFit walk, even though I knew the PFit Saturday walks are long slow distance... even though. I convinced myself it would be a good idea to gallowalk today.
Gallowalking would be fine if I was in the cardio shape to do that, but of course, I'm not.
The walk went out to the waterfront, then over to the Springwater Corridor. My heart rate monitor started acting funky tout suite. I'd be racewalking hard, panting, and unable to get the heart rate about 64%. Or, I'd be jogging, and the heart rate monitor would be stuck at 62%. Or 92%. Whatever!
And jogging. What a bright idea. I didn't wear my kevlar bra because it rubbed me raw but good in several places during the Half, so I was just out in one of those shelf tank things, which, well, let's not go there. So I'm shuffling, hoping I'm not flopping around too much, considering the real potential damage if one or both hit my face. And I still feel like it's going to put the kibosh on me.
So, surprise surprise when I feel my left IT band start to complain. Oh crap. Oh crappity crap crap. I thought, come on, Vic, dig in and be strong, but it only got worse, and then I thought, oh yeah, I could dig in and get injured. Cool. Not.
By that point, I was downtown, with maybe a mile or a mile and a half to get to where I had parked la scootera azula, so I grabbed a couple of freebie zines, and took the streetcar back into NW.
The streetcar was about half and half tourists and residents. Most of the residents appeared to be coming from the PSU Farmer's Market, carrying bundles of lavender. Oh! I want some of that! The tourists were plainly marked with tourist maps given out by the Visitor's Association or Powells.
And I sat there in my skort, wearing my pink and black bad kitty socks, reading about a Chinese divebar that will be closing next week, and options for other Chinese divebars to go to. Ah, Portland, my Portland!
But. On the bright side, I did have encounters with wildlife. I saw a mallard duck with little striped ducklings, and I saw a feral cat family. Two black with redbrown undercoat "adults", and four kittens, three jet black, and one tiger. Someone has left food for them, but they are very very shy. Most of the time, the kittens hid under the blackberries, but occasionally one or more of them would come out, or cry out. The runt was a little black guy, who was very low-energy compared to his sibs. I was happy to see him nursing when I left. The other kittens were active and about twice his size, which is to say, miniscule. The "adults" were twice the kittens' size, also tiny. Adorable.
I told Sweetie about the cats, and he was like, "oh, I want to catch them, and take them to be fixed, and then put tags on them that say 'Leave me alone! I'm feral and fixed!' and let 'em go again." I love this man so much.
permalink July 9, 2005 | Comments (3)
June 27, 2005
Filling up, and spilling over
I got a project done that I've been sweating at work, then went home on Friday. My stress level had hit a new high, and my body was just not cooperating. Though, amazingly, I felt much better when I got home. No doubt the bike ride helped. Though the bike ride hurt too. I just wasn't feeling that great, and the trek up the hill wasn't that fun.
Saturday morning, I thankfully felt okay. I ran late, as usual, and missed seeing the purples step off, so I got a map and just started walking. It was overcast and cool—it looked like it might rain. I decided, for some reason, that I would do intervals.
I have no idea where I got this, so don't try this at home, but the intervals I decided to do were based on the alarms on my heart rate monitor. So first I warmed up for 15 minutes. Then, I walked as fast and hard as I could until I hit 85% HR. Then, I'd slack until I hit 65%. Rinse, repeat. Except, once I started to catch up with humanity, or as humanity began to catch up with me, I'd start speeding up when I was trying to slow down, or vice versa.
So I did the intervals for the first 6 miles. Now you might be saying to yourself, gosh, I don't think that VJ has talked about doing any real walking for weeks, and you would be, in fact, correct, so why did I think that doing intervals would be a good idea? Well, why indeed? Suffice to say: they were not a good idea.
But, in spite of that, I was very happy to be out on a real walk. I got thinking about my walking route website idea and got really into it. I was enjoying saying hi to people, and looking at things, noticing the madrone growing along the trail, complete with hacking homeless person. Hmm, does he have TB? Yikes. I liked looking up at the road, way up high, and the caverns carved out by homeless people. I liked seeing the giant eagles nests on platforms above the electrical towers. I saw two crosses along the route, up off the trail, and I wondered who and why?
A runner who looked incredibly like Athanasia Tsoumeleka (the 2004 Olympic Racewalking champion) stopped and pointed out a bald eagle, perched on a stump in the swamp. The eagle appeared to be just hanging out, waiting for breakfast, and enjoying a little out-of-the-nest-time. I watched it for a long time. Then, as I softened my focus on the entire swamp, I could see that it was entirely infested with blue herons. I've never seen so many in one place ever.
I also spotted a beaver. In the wild. Damn!
So, the non-intervals 6 miles was less fun. I was moving slow, heart-rate was up, and I kept thinking about this Mac store in town that was having a garage sale, and it really was on the way back into town. I'd just need to walk, I dunno, six blocks out of the way. But I was afraid that if I did, I'd not finish the walk. Well, yes. So, I finished the walk. Slowly.
Afterwards, I did run to the garage sale, and it was just eMacs and G4 towers at that point. Poop. I talked to one of the sales guys, and he said that everything good was gone by 9:30. It was 10:30 now. Oh well.
After the ice bath and lunch, Sweetie and I went scootering to do some errands. We stopped at Ptown, we stopped at my fav yarn shop, and then, we spotted the Multnomah County Bike Fair, so we stopped and checked it out.
One of the things I absolutely love about Portland is its embrace of the kooky quirky contingent. Here, there are two types of bicyclists, not entirely mutually exclusive: there's the serious spandex-wearing bicyclists riding expensive fast bikes that do Seattle-to-Portland and Cycle Oregon—the athletes, and then there are the d-i-y bicycles, usually riding hand-me-downs or thrifted bikes, wearing, well, not a lot of spandex—the human-powered activists.
We have a local organization, Shift2Bikes, that tends more towards the latter. They do a monthly breakfast on the bridges for bicyclists, and they have a great calendar that you can post your bike events. They sponsored Pedalpalooza this year, and thus, the MCBF.
The fair was full of all sorts of quirky, d-i-y stuff. A smoothie stand whose blenders were powered by a bike with a generator. Our local zine folks. And, a stage area for performances, music and bicycle related.
I was so excited and I immediately started talking about bicycling down to the park. Sweetie reminded me that I had just overdone it, and maybe I should hold off on the cycling. Okay.
After a nap and a quick dinner, I scooted back to the Fair to do some documentation. I got there at the end of the last event, the Tallbike jousting, damn it! But as I hung out, there was suddenly this free-for-all, where lots of people were jumping on their bikes and riding around in circles. There were tall bikes, of course, a homemade recumbent whirly-bike, a longbike, and lots and lots of people enjoying themselves.
It was just beautiful. Here it was, a sunny warm evening, with the shade from trees here and there, and lots of people were out. Normal looking people, and people who had obviously dressed for the occasion. Vibrant and alive.
I want to be part of this. Yes!
The highlight of the next day was getting the strawbales. I promised myself, if I cut the grass, I'd see if any Feed and Seeds were open, and there was one. So I hightailed over there, got a couple of galvanized containers that I'll use as planters (thanks Fran!), and then decided to get strawbales.
See, you can build raised bed garden plots with strawbales. I've done it before.
So, I bought 4. I had sweetie's truck, and I was surprised to see that three fit nicely in his bed, but the fourth one had to go on top. Hell, the last time I bought straw bales, I was single, and I got 4 of them in my car, which is not terribly big.
Did I tie it down? Why tie it down? Ha ha ha ha! So of course, the bale flew off the truck in the middle of an intersection, in the middle of two 5 lane roads.
I managed to get the damn thing out of the street. But then I found that I couldn't lift it. Even by the strings. Damn it! Long story shorter, it was the help of strangers, 4 of them, that got the bale back into the truck, where I tied it down.
permalink June 27, 2005 | Comments (5)
June 16, 2005
forward and back
Instead of spending the day beating my head against the wall, as I have been for the last couple weeks, I spent the morning going through my email, and identifying projects and deadlines. I got through 3 or 4 months of email, and identified 12 projects, three of them with deadlines, and two of them with active naggers.
Unfortunately, two of the three deadline projects are due next week, which is all a little too exciting. But I feel a little more able to cope. And I went through and identified steps in the most important of the two deadline projects.
I am only on chapter two of Getting Things Done. As usual, the thing about reading 10 books at a time is that you really don't make a lot of progress in any of them.
...
I decided, since I'm a walker, and walking is what I do, that I ought to actually do some walking. How crazy is that? I decided that I would walk to the Grand Central on Hawthorne from work for lunch. So I did. It took me a half hour, so, I ended up burning a little more than an hours lunch, but it was very pleasant, and I got to have this week's favorite sandwich, the Bistro Ham. Yum.
Then, I biked home from work for the first time in I don't know how long. It went really well! It took me 35 minutes, so ten minutes longer than going to work, and I did end up getting off the bike once, but only once. Pretty damn cool! Not that I'm ready to do Providence Bridge Pedal, but then, that's two months off. I am so very pleased.
...
This morning, I was hoping to walk into work, but as has been lately the case, I dozed on the couch sitting straight up this morning. Pathetic. I don't even remember sweetie leaving. Yikes. I did eventually get my act together, showering, popping the world's largest zit (right on my chin, ugh), and making chilaquiles, before scooting in.
I woke up during a super-disturbing dream. I had some fatal disease and I was going to die soon. Oh, and I was contagious. Cool huh? There was something about the scooter (it was fine), and then at one point I was in the bathroom putting some miracle hair remover on my chin and mustache, while my father stood outside, yelling at me for taking so long. (Dad never yelled at me in real life) Why I was removing the hair on my chin and mustache when I was about to die, I don't know (and I feel like I've made my peace with my hairy southern-european face, so, umm, huh?). Oh, and outside, the snow was four and a half feet deep!
Outside of the scooter and my pathetic super-slow jock-like activities, things have been feeling fairly futile lately. Will I manage to make anyone happy at work, nonetheless myself? Will I ever get the yard into shape—like Sisyphus, knowing that once I get it into shape, it will just rain and I'll be back at the beginning? Etc. And even jockwise, will I ever get faster, stronger, fitter? It's all a bit overwhelming.
permalink June 16, 2005 | Comments (2)
June 5, 2005
I did it! Report to follow...
permalink June 5, 2005 | Comments (8)
May 22, 2005
The long walk
Well, I did it. Not that it wasn't at points just completely non-sensical, but I did it.
I left the house at about 7 am. The sky looked promising, overcast, but edging towards sun rather than rain. I worked hard to go slow, and I was right on target for miles 2 and 3. After that I hadn't memorized the mile markers, so I was really on my own.
My rule of the day was ease. Go out easy. Stop at every restroom opportunity, whether I feel like I need to or not. Drink lots of water, and take my electrolytes and gu every hour. Enjoy the uphills rather than try to charge up them. And so that's really what I aimed at.
It sprinkled every now and again, but nothing bad. Until I got to Barbur Blvd, one of my big landmarks. It started pouring. I took refuge by a bank, and then it became clear that it would continue pouring indefinitely, I ran into a hardware store.
I love hardware stores, and this was a particularly good one. Which was good because it poured for a long time. It finally occured to me that I could get a garbage bag and wear it, and while the cashiers offered to just give me one, I decided in my own superstitious way that I should buy one. So I did buy a 10 pack, and immediately, the pouring slowed to the drizzle, and I set off. An hour later. Maybe. Maybe more.
I pass south of I-5, then through the neighborhoods, then past the grocery store and coffee shop, and then the sidewalks on my side of the street abruptly stops. There's a sidewalk across the street, but you have to cross the road with heavy, fast traffic and blind curves on both sides, so I stay along my shoulder and hope that not too many massive trailer-trucks whizz by.
I finally get to the 8 mile point, and then the bike trail. While parts of the Terwilliger paths are really beautiful, they have nothing on Tryon Creeks trails which are tremendously lush and gorgeous. At this point, I haven't even hit halfway and I'm flagging. The constant up and down of the rolling hills takes its' toll, and I'm sure shuffling around a hardware store for g-d only knows how long doesn't help either.
But anyways. The trail goes out of the forest, and along the road, next to really expensive housing. A million and a quarter. Man, am I outta place.
And just when I abandon hope that I'll ever come to Hwy 43, there I am, and workers are planting flowers at the junction. I want to celebrate somehow that I've made it halfway, seeming so much longer than 10.5 miles, but there is nothing there but road and municipal gardeners and so I head back up hill. Getting to this point has taken a little less than 5 hours.
The next couple miles are a bit much. The work crew is out in their little four-wheeled truck, wanting to pass me, and then pass me again on the bike trail. I get out of the park and I trudge further up the hill, thinking that suburbia here is so soulless. Then I pass a house, no doubt a student house for the nearby college that has a banner on the side:
Budweiser warmly welcomes you to 9XXX SW Terwilliger Parkway
and I think, maybe this isn't so bad after all. Promptly, less than a mile later, the skies open and thunder crackles. I take shelter under a flower shop's awning, but the ladies inside insist that I come inside too.
They all think I'm clearly insane that I still need to walk back to NE Portland (but dear, the buses will start running again soon—that'll get you downtown). Maybe I am insane. Suddenly I realize that the grocery is 2, maybe 3 blocks away, and I could get lunch there. So I thank the ladies and headoff.
It's still pouring and still thundering and lightning, so I move as fast as possible to the grocery. Once inside, I'm sort of baffled and overcome by options. So I order a half a sandwich and collect three bottles of sm@rt water, and once I start eating, I'm ravenous. I will never be full! I decide, in a moment of clarity, to just eat my sandwich and call it good.
The rain lets up and I head out again. I'm driven at this point -- looking forward to the landmarks: Barbur Blvd.; the picnic tables at Nebraska Street; Capitol Hwy; the Chart House; the Marquam trail; the VA; Casey Eye Institute; and crossing 405 into downtown. Everything aches, but at this point I'm reminded that the game is all mental. I can dwell on the aches and pains, or I can stay a layer above it, focused on the goal.
I think about my dad. Poor guy was in constant pain the last four years of his life, and he ate painkillers like I used to eat ibupr0fen. But, he didn't let the pain get him down, as the commercials say. Painkillers helped, but didn't make it go away. His ability to meet goals and his attitude, were all focused above the pain. When you saw him, and didn't know him, you wouldn't have necessarily known that he was in pain. Hell, even I forgot, and would suggest we do something, and he would very gently remind me that he wasn't feeling that great. Gosh I miss him.
My last pitstop is at the Portland Visitors Association. As I am walking in, I walk by a crazy-eyed street person, teeth gone from meth, with a boombox blasting country music. As I walk inside, I mentally thank g-d that I'm not her, and that hopefully I won't see her again. So, of course, who ends up in the stall next to me but insane-meth-country-boombox-blaster. Her boombox seems earsplittingly loud, and the music feels like a grater on my feet. So I put back on my ipod and turned it up, which just ended up leaving me with a cacophony, but gave me the sense that maybe I had some control.
I finally got home, 10 hours after I started. 10 hours! I did the marathon in 9, and had a major breakdown, for heaven sakes! Oh well. Part of me thinks it was more than 21 miles all told, but I won't find out anytime soon—I won't go out and ride it with the bike and a cyclometer. And, I guess the question is, how much longer does it take for me to do rolling hills than flat?
The results? The tops of my feet are swollen in places. My hands didn't even swell. Otherwise, I'm as good as new. And, I ended up with no crunchy covering of salt at any point—that has to be a first.
permalink May 22, 2005 | Comments (9)
May 16, 2005
Whiney
Well, I ended up doing 10 or 12 miles yesterday. Not too much.
Initially, it started out really nice. It was cool and drizzy, and I was doing the short end of the Terwilliger Hill. The wooded hills and drop-offs was gorgeous, and there weren't many folks out. I had parked my scoot at the Chart House, and had a supply of water in my collapsable cooler under the seat.
I had planned to do 20 miles. The thought was to do the Sheridan to Capitol Hwy loop of Terwilliger twice, and then do the Marquam trail up to Wildwood and back. I figured it was doable — there are several restrooms on Terwilliger, and I could go get more water from the scooter as I needed it.
I noticed a sign that said "SW Trails 1" -- does that mean, SW Trails, 1 mile away. Or a trail that is a mile long? Or that this is trail #1? Who knows? I decided to go down it.
The trail went down someone's driveway, and then along a series of public stairs descending down the hill.
WARNING: Okay, it's about to get ugly here. If you don't like graphic discussions of bodily mis-functions, do not select the black box with your mouse because it really doesn't get any better.
At one point, I had a choice: continue down the stairs, or take the plywood ramp. I'm trying to do new things, so I went down the ramp. And I slipped and fell right on my ass. In the mud. And peed myself.
Feeling completely humiliated, I look around. No one anywhere in sight. I'm covered with mud, and I'm probably the only one who knows the worst of it. Ick.
While I'm sitting there, I consider my options. I could go home and change my clothes. But would I come back out walking? I've done less than 3 miles at this point. Who am I kidding, of course I wouldn't come back out walking.
I am still vacillating about the Gorge Marathon. I want to do it, but am I ready to do it? If I don't get 20 miles done in the next couple of days, planning on doing the marathon is a gamble.
So, as awful and humiliated as I feel, I decide to soldier on. And to make a stop at the Y.
The Y is only five or six blocks away. I'm not a member, but maybe they will take pity on me? And they do. So, I'm able to use the washroom and wash up.
This is the way it started. Sigh. And really, I do pretty good until I realize, on the second Terwilliger loop, that I'm running out of water. I'm supposed to get on the Marquam and do my 10 miles. With just the 20 oz of water I have on me. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid. So I decide to go past the Marquam, up to the Chart House, and get some water. Though of course, once I get to the Chart House, there is no doubling back.
I was never so happy to take my icebath and warm shower.
...
This has been such a crazy stressful couple of weeks. And I had another absolutely enjoyable visit with my dentist this morning. If I can just get my work done (or not, maybe), I'm thinking maybe I'll take a mental health day. And maybe see if I can't crank a long walk out then.
permalink May 16, 2005 | Comments (5)
May 15, 2005
Distances for some routes in the SW Hills...
Terwilliger Hills
Starting at SW Sheridan & Terwilliger south to Barbur Blvd.
4 miles one way or 8 round-trip
Marquam Trail
Terwilliger to Wildwood Trail
5 miles
Vista Hill
Starting at the Goose Hollow/SW Jefferson MAX stop.
South on 18th, west on Market, south on Vista...
at Montgomery (.5 miles)
at Vista Springs Cafe (1 mile)
at Montgomery & Patton (1.5 miles)
gas station at Dosch & Patton (2 miles)
permalink May 15, 2005
April 29, 2005
Triumph!
Obvious observation #1: it's much easier to ride a bike with correctly-inflated tires.
Last night was the turning point. Yes! Sweetie and I scooted to get some salad and 'za, and then I returned to the Bike Gallery with the gauge that wasn't working for me. I walked up to the counter, and the employee was working with someone on the phone, so I left the gauge, the receipt and my purse at the counter while I went to check out standing pumps.
They were having a sale, and there was an obnoxious yellow one that called my name. I looked at it suspiciously. On the packaging, it said that it fits both types of valves. So I bring it up to said counter.
The employee is now ready for me, and as a matter of introduction, I gave her an abbreviated version of my frustrations with getting back on the road.
Can I make a suggestion?, she asks.
Yes, please, I need all the help I can get!
She explains that the pump I've chosen has an adapter for schrader as an afterthought, and that she thinks I can do better at the same price. So we go over to the pumps, and she immediately picks out a much more subdued pump. A Wrench Force with its "easy to use dual head, all you have to do is put the valve in the correct opening, flip the locking lever, and pump. The dual head automatically directs the air into your tube." Ka-ching! Same price too. $30, marked down from $90!
I thank her and thank her and thank her again. And then I bring the pump out to the scooter and learn that it is just a smidge too big to fit in the underseat compartment, so I'll have to hold it between my feet. Which actually wasn't bad at all.
...
Mat pilates was great. There were only seven of us, including the instructor, and the focus was really on the abs. By Thursday night, after three straight days of pilates, I'm usually having a communication breakdown with my abs. I do what I think is bringing the belly button to spine, but I feel about as connected to my belly as I do to the soccer player's belly on the mat next to me—it's all theoretical. I worked really hard, and I concentrated on my abs, these abs that I could not feel, rather than leg lifts or the other crazy stuff you're supposed to be doing while you contract your abs. So that's not to say that I didn't do the other crazy stuff, I just tried to stay focused.
...
I got the pump home, and immediately brought the bike onto the backporch. It was so damn easy that, well, it was kinda a letdown, honestly. So I filled the tires, and then I went inside and got a pile of other stuff done, just as if I had some energy. Wuhoo!
And this morning, I biked in. It was fun for the most part. I can't even put words together to say how much easier it is to ride a bike with full tires. Oh. My. Gosh. A world of difference.
The steel bridge-pedestrian bridge was closed (and locked up!), so I ended up going along the Eastbank Esplanade. It's not my favorite as there are these little tiny intsy-weensy itty-bitty hills, and I'm not there yet in my bike-jock-evolution. But, I made it up them, and so what that a runner passed me? This is supposed to be lowkey and fun, and damn it, it's going to be!
I got across the Hawthorne Bridge and saw the Shift folks out with Last Friday breakfast for bicyclists. How cool is that. So I stopped. They are so great. They served coffee in real mugs, and had goodies from Grand Central Bakery, and were tremendously friendly. Wow! So totally cool!
...
So I am very pleased this morning. It's the first day this week where I've felt like I was not fighting the tide.
I need to come up with a 20-21 mile walk for this weekend. I could do the old Steel Bridge to Sellwood Bridge loop twice, but I like the idea of not having to repeat a loop. So maybe tonight I'll try out a route on the scooter. I wonder what the St. Johns Bridge to the Broadway Bridge via my house would be?
permalink April 29, 2005 | Comments (3)
April 25, 2005
close to the ground
Well, no one in my department got it today. Morale is ruined. Everyone is sharpening up their resumes. Except me. I know I should be, but I'm actually working on work.
I did go to mat pilates, and it was a good distraction. Hard, really hard, given that just about every part of me, including my abs, are achey and cranky today. Afterwards, I took a really cold shower, hoping it would make my body feel better. It did wake me up, certainly. And for some reason, I weigh 225. I'm guessing I just lost some weight in the event yesterday, and I just need to regain it. Though I'd rather not.
Gosh, yesterday was such a neat experience. I did a little bit of internet trolling for other 30K events next weekend, and so far have come up with nothing. It's so much easier to just do it in an organized fashion, rather than going out on your own. Maybe I'll just go to Champoeg this weekend?
Anyways. There is something that is so great about being so close to the ground. The other night, my sweetie and I rode our scooters past an Indian restaurant and swooned from the smell of curry. We had both just eaten, but suddenly that aroma made me hungry all over again. We'd have never gotten that if we'd been in a car.
Likewise yesterday. There was so much that I wouldn't have even noticed on a bicycle.
I love looking at everything. There's the decrepit dock, twisted and falling apart, its electric light poles now horizontal above the water—how did it get this way? Who let this fall apart? There are the caterpillars and baby slugs crossing the asphalt in Smith & Bybee Lakes park—I can't remember the last time I saw a caterpillar. Remember, they used to be everywhere, and now they are so long gone. And the baby slugs looked like little shavings of barkdust.
Lupines in bloom. Even where they were mowed down, now coming up in miniature. All sorts of little wildflowers, all with names that I don't know, carpeting the ground with the promise of spring.
There were the bluebirds, swallows really, eating bugs in the park. And tons of birds of all kinds, everywhere. I don't recall seeing crows or grackles or robins in the park—there were just all of these unusual birds.
Even once we were out of the parks and in St. Johns, there were all these interesting houses, and cars, and dogs in windows silently barking, and cats on porches rapt with attention. Interesting gardening, or no gardening at all. Lettuce as an accent plant. Good old love-in-a-mist (nigella), and artichokes, front yards devoted to farming or bulb growing. Teenaged runners being very confused about the volkswalkers. Kids playing basketball, a hispanic group next to a group of asians. A lot of middle-aged women wearing coats over flip-flops or bedroom slippers, smoking a cigarette in their driveway. Dog optional.
The orange slices at the checkpoints tasted so good. As did the grapes. And I still can't get over how excited the volunteers were that this was my first event, the first of many, they'd assure me. I got so excited when I'd see the fruit. Damn.
I tried to hydrate well and do plenty of endurolytes, but I still finished with a crunchy coating of grey salt all over me. And I did remember how to pee, once I had taken my ice bath and drank a couple glasses of water, and ate an egg sandwich, suddenly the whole system worked really well. And then I was really tired. I napped on the couch with the dog and two of the cats, with three quilts, having a hard time getting warm.
Then I woke up, my darling made me a homemade burger (the best, the absolute best), and I had a beer and another five glasses of water.
...
If you want to see someone who is doing this right, check out Lynne's Je Cours. She did the McNaughton Ultra, one of the toughest ones around, a few weeks ago (4/16-17). Her race report is just magnificent, her attitude just great. What an inspiration! I'd give the direct report URL, but it's in several installments.
permalink April 25, 2005 | Comments (4)
April 24, 2005
Vancouver Discovery Walk 31K
I did either 31K (19.25 miles) or 32K (19.88 miles) today.
I did the Vancouver (USA) Discovery Walk, and today's walks included a 6K, 11K, 21K, 31K, and 42K. This was an American Volkswalking International event. So, my first volkswalking, and my first as an international experience.
I got in to register at about 7am. The first talking I heard was in some slavic language. I registered—$8, pretty cheap for an event. A group of germans in fatigues, a group of Netherlanders in a clutch, a guy with a huge japanese flag.
In my event, maybe 2/3rds of the field were from outside the states. I was amazed, absolutely amazed. Then I remembered that the Victoria International Festival of Walking was last weekend. I wonder where the next weekend is?
We were bussed out to N. Portland, along Marine Dr across from the Expo Center, and let out without fanfare. It begins!
I spent the first couple miles chanting to myself, this is not a race, this is not a race. There were all these walkers, and I could catch up with them, and probably screw up my last 10K, but I tried to hang back, relax, have a good time.
The route took us along the Smith and Bybee lakes, the wastewater treatment center (which really has been developed as a nice wildlife sanctuary, occasional foul smells not withstanding), and then into the working-class neighborhoods of St. Johns. At one point, I had the obligatory interaction with a pitbull on a chain who had gotten loose—he was all love and bad manners, but he freaked out several people walking. A little ways ahead I heard yelling, and it was a woman in her bathrobe, yelling for the dog to come home. The dog ignored her.
We spent some time in Pier Park, which is hilly and wooded and just lovely.
Oh! Some backstory! So in volkswalking, you actually check into the aidstations. They check off your card, and so you're not only expected to stop, you're expected to chat. The volkswalking volunteers are so friendly and enjoyable, it's hard to hit the road again. At most of the stations there were chunky slices of orange and banana, bunches of grapes, cookies, hard candies, and maybe some no-name jel that everyone I saw avoided, along with water and gatorade. At the aidstation/check point at the University of Portland, it was inside the student union, flocked by comfie chairs and flushing, indoor toilets! In fact, a dutch man was camped out, seemingly totally enjoying the comfie chair, and the American co-eds.
The other thing: I was the only person doing the 32K in technical fiber clothing. Everyone else was wearing jeans or dockers, cotton athletic socks, and hiking boots.
After getting out of Pier Park, we proceeded to the south end of the peninsula and walked down Willamette Boulevard. Did I mention that all the walking was on trails or sidewalks or for short stretches along the road? None of this walking in the street stuff.
We were on a sidestreet very close to UP when I was joined by a 42K (eg, marathon) walker. He had gotten lost at some point, and was thinking that he'd be doing a 48K in the end. We chatted, and I of course managed to offend him by saying I was embarrassed that we were taking our international guests by the sewage treatment plant. You know, he said kindly, some people think of it as shit, but I think of it as a living. Oops, good move, VJ.
Soon after that, I saw a little black cat, and it saw me, and it began running full-speed, bounding, at me. I have never had a reception like that from a cat, and I'll say I was touched. It was a tiny little cat with two front legs and one rear, and he showed other signs of hard living. He loved on me quite a lot, and I tried to return the favor. I just wanted to scoop him up and take him with me.
It was a good lesson to me—at this point, my feet were hurting and I knew it was only going to get worse. I had been questioning this commitment to walking longer distances—why was I doing this exactly? And then I see this cat who is so happy to see humans, even though he only has three legs. Wow.
Back up through St. Johns to the waste-treatment plant, then along a dike to the Portland International Raceway. On the dike, I saw two blue herons fly. Blue herons are not a special bird around here—you often see them on the river, or in someone's garden who's made the mistake of having a koi pond. But I had never seen them fly. They have tremendous wingspans, with two different shades of blue, and these outrageously long legs.
By the time I hit the PIR check-point, I was beginning to have some trouble. That was 26K. My feet were hurting, hamstrings unhappy, just generally wanted to lie down in the long grass and go to sleep. I soldiered on. After a detour through the Delta Park Sports Complex, we were on the I-5 freeway bikepath.
It seemed like every step was getting harder, and I had this persistent need to pee, even though I had just stopped at the portapottie at PIR. I had forgotten about my friend the cat, and was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Then, as I passed through an underpass, I exchanged greetings with a homeless guy. When I asked him how he was, he said, Alive, and I don't remember what I said in response, but he said, hey, so much better than the alternative! I agreed, we wished each other a good day, and I was on my way. Slowly.
As we crossed onto Hayden Island, the path goes behind the former Waddles (vacated for a Krispy Kreme, after 60+ years in business—though it appears a Hooters will end up in its place) and a Safeway. I popped into the washroom there and realized that my body had kinda shut down. I couldn't remember how to pee.
It seemed more and more appealing to just call my sweetie and ask him to shuttle me to the hotel where I had registered and left the car, than to walk the last mile across the bridge. But of course, I didn't call. I walked across the bridge. The uphill was harsh. No actually, I didn't notice either the uphill or the downhill on the bridge, but the wierd pedestrian steep stairway (think slats in a 7% grade wheelchair ramp) did just about kill me. Then I had to go up something similar. Even with the hotel in sight, I just wanted to sit down.
But I finished. Went in and collected my medal. Stood for a moment watching a barbershop quintet performing for a room of hardcore volkswalkers here from around the Northwest and the world. Some of them had done 2 days of 42Ks. In Europe, it's not unusual to do 4 days of 42Ks. Crazy.
I timed it, but I killed the timer sometime after finishing, so I really have no idea about time. Let's just say I was a lot slower than at Champoeg, which isn't too surprising when you look at how little I've been spending on walking lately.
permalink April 24, 2005 | Comments (10)
April 19, 2005
A race for the future? Err, maybe not
The 2005 Lake Run 12K
May 7
12K Run: (an accurately measured course using USAT&F standards) - is a challenging [read HILLS], scenic loop through beautiful residential areas with stunning views of Oswego Lake. Due to City restrictions the 12K event is for runners only.
(oh dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit!)
check out this map
permalink April 19, 2005 | Comments (1)
April 11, 2005
Hammer Gel tests
To try to provide a service is what we at Brave Athena are all about. And, yes, there is only one of us, why do you ask?
The last time I was at the triathete store, they had a crazy cheap price for Hammer Gel. Now, I'm a Gu girl, and I have no reason to change, but I did pick a couple up, and try them while I was out on the road. Here are the results:
Espresso: easily the best of the lot. Not unpleasant taste or texture, though a little thick.
Orange: entirely unedible. Like eating tang-flavored sand set in grease.
Chocolate: not as good as Espresso, but at least it's edible. You need a lot of water to cut it, though.
End results: I think I'll stay with my Gu, though if it isn't available and I'm in hell, and Hammer Gel is my only choice, I will use Espresso or Chocolate. I'd rather have the horrible all-body cramps than have Orange again, though.
permalink April 11, 2005 | Comments (6)
A bit of a walk
So I did a bit of a walk yesterday, and I have a bit of a photoessay (53 photos!) to go with it.
It was really fun. Saturday was too. I just felt really free, like my body was really just flying, light, and my mind was full of excited, creative ideas. Not that I'm remembering a lot of them now, but I felt like some of my goals—non-athletic goals—were really achievable.
Once I got on Terwilliger, there were lots of runners and cyclists and walkers, and I felt great comraderie. And then, the section on Capitol Hwy and Barbur and Naito, I can't recommend to anyone—they're like a dead zone, nothing but cars racing like there's no tomorrow. There are bike lanes in parts, with no bicyclists, no wonder. No sort of divider between the car lanes and the bike lanes other than a line of paint, blackberries and other shrubs growing out into the road, no sidewalk, no room for a trail, even.
I felt really good until I got downtown, and it started to sprinkle. At that point, I had been out for 4 hours, and I decided that was plenty, and took the bus back home.
All in all, it was great. Though I think I have a bit of a fever, now. I can't seem to get warm.
permalink April 11, 2005 | Comments (2)
April 9, 2005
the art of movement
Big day today. I got to PFit just after 7am, and the sun was shining. I immediately saw Hollie and started catching up with her, and as her friends came round, I got introduced. Sweet! I then saw a friend of Mela's, and another of her friends recognized me (oh, I am so bad with names and faces), and then I introduced myself to others.
It was a huge crowd. Overwhelming. It'll be easier once we meet in our color groups—much smaller, much more manageable. As we started off for our 3 or 4 mile walk, I decided to hang back, and try to chat with folks I didn't know. Then I hung with some ACs, and racewalked while they ran. Chatted with some other folks, hung back, sped up, chatted with someone else. It was big fun.
All full of excitement and cheerfulness, I came home, collected the sweetheart, and we went out for breakfast at a place that before was really good—and this morning, nearly inedible. The bright spot was that it was a block away from a hot new bakery which had lots of samples, and we ended up getting three croissants, a slice of lemon tea cake (to die for!), and a pistachio danish. After that, we went scooter shopping.
First stop, the Vespa dealership. As usual, my double x chromosomes rendered me invisible. Then the salesman greets sweetie, and sweetie points out that I'm interested in test-driving. After some negotiating, and after he shows me all the controls as if I had never seen an engine kill switch, I take the granturismo 200cc out for a ride.
It's pretty and responsive. Everyone gives me a second look and a smile. I crank easily up a vertical hill, stop easily, go easily. It's effortless, really.
I bring 'er back in, and the salesman offers to let me try out another automatic transmission scooter. Well, how about a Stella, a manual—they have the atomic fireball Stellas, which I hear are a bit souped-up, could I try that? No.
Next, we roll down to Scooter Station. Stefan is there, and I ask if I can take one of the P200Es out. This is the polar opposite of the GT200—a manual, no electric start, an old, loud vespa. I get it out a few blocks away and stall it, and can't get it kick started again, so I walk it back to the shop. Stefan shows me how to kick-start it, totally without judgement or doing anything to make me feel like this isn't something easy to do, and I go for a longer ride which goes without incident.
This is not effortless. The hand shift requires a lot of left-hand strength, and shifting requires a lot of attention. But I'm cruising up and down hills, up and down streets, it's nice. Though a bit like exercise. It reminds me of when I first started driving a manual car. Soon enough, it becomes muscle memory and unconscious. Just as I was bringing it back in, it started to rain.
He also had an automatic scooter, the TnG Milano which I'd like to try out. But not when it's raining.
We went by Columbia Scooters after that. We chatted scooters with one of the guys, and had a lovely time. But still raining. It was killing me. They still have one Stella, some nice Bajajs, and then the Kymmco. For some reason I had thought they were open on Sundays, but they're not, so not riding any of their stock was killing me!
Even now, thinking about this stuff is killing me. If I had to buy on the basis of decent guys who treated me kindly and with respect, both Scooter Station and Columbia are stellar. I just have to hope that the scooter I want will reveal itself, making this decision easier!
permalink April 9, 2005 | Comments (8)
April 5, 2005
A bit of crankyness
Gmail is not loading. When I finally decide I should kill all these other email accounts and just go with gmail, it fails me. I should know better. Anyways.
I don't know what it was, but I got up this morning, got it together, and got it on the road. I left the house before 6:45. I made it the gym before 7:30. Had a nice, though not terribly exciting, walk in. Then, once I got to the gym, I did the stretches, which took me 25 minutes. Dammit! I need to figure out how to stretch time.
It seems to me the solution is to become independently wealthy. Or be willing to walk in the dark and give up sleep. Too bad I don't have a scheme for that. At least the days are getting longer.
I'm just hoping that this is the first step back on track. I can do what I can do, and I should do at least that.
BTW, after I had decided to walk to work and I had got everything put together, I succumbed to couch-sitting and web-surfing for a few minutes. I don't know if I got off the couch after reading this, but it is a good motivator...
permalink April 5, 2005 | Comments (1)
March 23, 2005
Tempo Runs
There's an interesting article in City Sports this time about tempo running. You might call it intervals.
Turbo Charging with Tempo Runs
By T.J. Murphy
permalink March 23, 2005 | Comments (1)
March 22, 2005
I'm going for a walk
I had a very pleasant walk in this morning. First, somehow, I left early. Okay, it was only a minute early, but that still counts! I did