Charlie dragged me into the garden to teach me, again, how to change the tubes on my road bike. I had the best of intentions of getting back on the roadie at some point. I lugged it from Arizona on the back of my car, after all. And yes, I knew it was sitting in the garage with flats, like it had sat in my storage closet with flats for years prior to the move. I tried explaining, “I am simply much more comfortable on my commuter bike. Wider tires, basket, much less risk of falling off because I’m not clipped into pedals.”

His response? “Tough. Let’s fix the tires. We are going for a ride.”

Gulp.

I had a crash that shook me up four years ago. Four years and I’m still not over it.  Even though, I’ve competed in triathlons and I’ve put hundreds of miles on my commuter bike since — I can still hear the noise of hitting the ground, flailing as I’m attached to my bike. My finger is still crooked.

Of course changing the tires took all of 15 minutes — a chore I’d put off for far too long. It was a good reminder of the process and doing it myself felt good. (I’d gotten into the habit of taking it to the local bike shop for $12 fixes in lieu of just getting my own hands dirty.)

Helmet fastened, I’ll be going out for an afternoon ride with the gang. Nothing like taking those fears by the horns — and by horns, I mean the foothills of the Rockies.

Tally ho,

K

Saturday:

The SheRox tri was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed the race and it was definitely worth the $85. Tempe Town Lake is warm (74) and the course was well marked. I was impressed with the organization and will do this sprint tri again. Alma completed it and it was her first tri. I was beaming, I was so proud of her.

Groceries. I love apples. I cringe at the fact that these aren’t local, but they are organic and they are from the US. The Chilean apples looked prettier, but my fruit shouldn’t need a passport.

The Tempe Library is so fabulous. Not only do they sell books on the cheap — this stack cost $3 — but they also have a great cafe and selection of audio books and DVDs.

Supplies for another loaf of no knead bread. There is something about buying one giant can of beer that makes me feel a bit like I should be calling my third cousin for a date this Friday. But then I have some of this warm bread and the whiskey tango feeling disappears around slice three.

Africankelli Apron #4 completed; #5 is on my kitchen table ready to be completed this afternoon.

Sunday:

Mama’s day and my British Grannie’s 74th birthday. There was the mandatory visit, along with some beer bread (see above) and brownies. She was tickled.

More sewing — a pintucked, reversible table runner for my psuedo Arizona mom Jackie. Jackie is Rebecca’s mom and their family have me over for dinner every Sunday. They are pretty incredible folk.

Wrapped and ready to be delivered. I stole Finny’s idea for photo cards a while back. I print my favorite photos at Costco and glue them down to some cardstock. They come in handy for just about any occasion.

Shelley, Bec’s eldest sister, wanted this butternut squash spicy dip I make. It isn’t my favorite, but the squash looks so pretty all roasted and rested on the cookie sheet.

Pita for the dip. I make my own pita chips because they are less expensive and healthier. I buy a package of pitas and cut them up and toast them in the oven. Voila — chips without the frying.

Irish soda bread muffins for her other sister, Christy. This recipe is from the June issue of Bon Appetit and is excellent.

And the random drink with my brother, who happened to be in Phoenix for 24-hours to see some friends. It is always nice to spend time with him. I miss him like it is my job.

There was some bowling, napping, church-going, and a fair amount of NPR listening in there too. A great weekend indeed!
~K

*

I haven’t posted much lately about my “training” because with 7 weeks on the travel docket this summer, there isn’t much planned for Fall races. I’ve got three Splash and Dash left and a sprint triathlon next weekend for the Spring tri season, and then a long hiatus until the Tour de Scottsdale come October.
And you know what? I couldn’t be happier. I’m going to pick up Ultimate again this Fall (and possibly tennis) and swing by this new running shop in Tempe that is getting rave reviews to be fit for a great new pair of sneaks. Then, the Tucson 1/2 come December with a goal of 2 hours. My current personal best is 2:14, so this would be a rocking improvement.

My day-to-day routine when I’m without a specific training race for goes something like this: Monday, Wednesday, Friday — lots of running and cycling. I’ve recently taken up spin classes because if I fall off that bike there is no risk of being hit by a car. And if I fall of the spin bike, I am officially too dumb to be on a bike and should never return to riding the open roads with the Rudy the Tempest. It is just getting light enough to make my annual transition from the treadmill to the canal and head back outside for morning runs. (We once had a serial killer here who was randomly picking people off with a sniper gun. I stopped running outside by myself in the dark during this time and have yet to return with any confidence. Too many crazies, even though they caught this nut.)
I try to run 15-20 miles per week, typically at at 10 minute mile pace. There is are a few weights sprinkled in there too; more so on the weeks when I receive my copy of Shape and feel particularly motivated. I am actually considering buying this bikini and hanging it up in my bedroom as a daily reminder of my annual Mexico trip this fall. It is wowza cute, very much my style and I will certainly need to curb my late night cereal snack habit to rock that baby with any sort of sober confidence.

Tuesdays and Thursdays I am coaching the master swim program and put in 1.5-2 miles pre-work. I try to walk or take yoga in the afternoons, but it all depends on my dance card. Social events take precedence because frankly, I can have a flat tummy and be home alone or be jolly out with friends. Jolly wins.
Weekends are a mix of errands on the bike, running when so moved and hiking with friends. I try daily to be moving at least 30 minutes a day, ideally 90. I know that I’m a cardio freak, but I am my happiest with those exercise endorphins flowing. Anytime I can be outside and not melt, I’m on the patio.

A few great resources new to me for those fellow wannabe athletes:
1. Fantastically free calorie web site. Food journaling is my friend.
2. Bike I am currently coveting.
3. Did you know they made watches that monitor caloric output? And you can find them for a smoking deal on eBay.
4. Love this magazine. Just read my first copy this week and it is really different from the other health stuff out there. Entertaining, stylish and informative in useful portions. Hmm… useful portions…

~K

* A super secret project for a certain friend’s 11th birthday party. Let’s just say she is a huge Phoenix Suns fan and we are going rock climbing.

My eyes: much better. Thank you. And thank goodness for leftover drops because I’ve got another Tempe Town Lake splash and dash in a couple weeks. You can lead this horse to water, and chances are I’m going to jump in and swim, even if the water is gross.

Being in this environment is such a kick. First, there is the people watching. You wouldn’t believe the variety of age, size and physical shape of triathletes, especially in these sprint events. Without a doubt I know I’ll get my ass handed to me by someone 15 and under and someone 65 and older. Competing is good for humility if nothing else. Also, the tattoos! I think triathletes are probably second only to Harley Davidson folk for the number and variety of tattoos clearly labeling their favorite hobby: swim! bike! run! I once wanted an Ironman tat, but I’m reconsidering after the variety I’ve seen. While no doubt they are special, they aren’t unique.

There is nothing else in my routine that motivates me like being around other athletes. I stand up straight and throw my broad shoulders back with pride from the countless swim workouts that created them. I watch with body-confidence envy at the women who sport tri bikinis, for those rocking six packs and those who enjoy a good six pack. I cheer for the newbies and watch the elite athletes in awe. From start to finish, I am overwhelmed with the desire to simply be better. I want to eat smarter, train harder, stretch more and be stronger. I want to compete at the top of the field instead of hanging around the flabby midsection. (Correlation noted.)

~K

Let me paint the scene:
Me and 100 other folk waiting for the start of a two-lap swim around a Tempe Town Lake course. The other 99 (most with wet suits) are in the water. Me at the starting dock with my toes in waiting for the horn to start the race. I dive, I find my place in the pack, I emerge 20 minutes later or so in the first 20 or so folk. The advantage of not wearing a wet suit is apparent as I throw on my tennis shoes and sunglasses and take off. Soon enough I’m cruising through the out-and-back 1.8 mile course when I hear a set of feet behind me. A dude cruises by. Then another. Then another. Then it is a torrent of slower swimmers who’ve caught the hare and are flying past me in their fancy, sprinty, Kenyan ways.
I finished mid-pack and was pleased as punch; I swam and ran as hard as I could. I was so tired at the end I nearly puked, and considering these races provide some of the best male eye-candy in town, I’m really glad I didn’t. Instead, I pulled myself together and went out with a group for post-race happy hour.
Yet when I woke up this morning with two swollen pink eyes, I had to wonder if the dip in the city lake was worth the infection. It was a lot of fun but I am not going to be a happy camper if this morphs into another $50 spent on antibiotic drops for these wimpy peepers of mine.

Next up: Tri for the Cure on Sunday. It’s a sprint tri I’m doing as a relay with a couple girlfriends. And guess what? I’m doing the run. Thankfully I can hide behind a pair of sunglasses if necessary.

Happy weekend!

~K

Take one $.99 Ikea bag, a bit of canvas for the lining, a square of cotton for the front key pocket, some yellow thread and voila: le Chevroleg, 2.0.

For Salty. Next sewing project: girl’s dresses made from pillowcases. Have you heard of this?

~K

P.S. I’m doing my first Splash and Dash tonight. I’m a bit nervous. You’d think by now I’d be comfortable swimming in Tempe Town Lake, but it still panics me a little. I did a 2.4 mile open water a couple weeks ago and once again I was one of two idiots without a wetsuit. I was so cold, I couldn’t get my breath under control for 1000 meters. Thankfully, tonight the race is just 1000 meters and then some running (hence the dash). And no, this idiot still doesn’t have a wetsuit. Oy. Full algae and hyperventilation report tomorrow.

I swam in the state masters meet this weekend — the mile last night and four events this morning. I am blogging on nothing more than anxiety and exhaustion. I’m home, a wee bit sunburned and very happy to have competed. And yes, I took knitting to the meet. I’m just that strange.

I notice that in true Kelli fashion I underestimated myself. My entry times were stupid slow — as in I swam in heats with an 81-year-old dude.

Yep, I beat that old man silly. Okay, really I waited in the water for him each time to finish and then shook his hand. I mean, how cool is it that he is still competing at 81? Lou and I were fast friends by this afternoon. He didn’t seem to mind I completed the mile 22 minutes faster than him and tread water the entire time waiting for his finish.

For the swimmers out there — did you learn to stay in the water until everyone is finished and shake hands with your competitors? I thought this was common courtesy. Safe to say this is not a level of competition that should be void of manners. Also safe to say I’ve got to find a new team to train with because next year I’ll be greeting Lou from the fast heat.

~K

My roommate is moving next week to Canada and taking the five kitties with her. I’ll miss her company, although I am still not a “cat person.” Give me a Saint Bernard any day. I just don’t know what to do with cats, other than vacuum behind them regularly. I’ve thought about getting another roommate because the additional rent money is quite nice, but I need some time to sew. And knit. And do things outside of the kitchen. Next week the guest room will be transformed into my art studio once more and I’ll have to rely on the kindness of friends to feed me. I’ll be too busy with my Singer to mess with my skillet.

This week I’m busy making mini cheesecake for my neighbor, reading, hiking and preparing for Spring sports. Yesterday I signed up for $320 worth of events in March, April and May. (See? roommate money put to good use.) I’ll be competing in the Masters swimming state meet in Tucson in a couple weeks, a 2.4 mile open-water swim in Tempe, a few Splash and Dash events and a couple triathlons. With all of these events lined up, my workouts have become more disciplined and focused. I’m not just exercising because I love it but because I have dreams of winning the Splash and Dash series. And maybe the mile event at the state swim meet. Oh, that would be fun! Having swam in my brother’s shadow for nearly my entire life (you know, until he quit swimming and I just had coaches remind me ever so often that I was “Cody’s sister!! Is he still swimming?”) I am the one competing these days. The fact that even though he hasn’t swam in years and could more than likely still beat me in the pool in a sprint doesn’t bother me at all. Really. That said, I’d probably have to rescue him during the 2.4 mile race. I’ve always been more of a distance athlete. If nothing else, maybe that chip will fall off my shoulder during that mile swim. Ha!

~K

My friend Madison recently decided she wanted to compete in a triathlon. Within a few hours, she’d decided to compete in the Ironkids tri, which was just three weeks away. Maddy is naturally talented in about 1,000 ways, one of which is swimming. The girl is a fish. She is also pretty awesome at running and basketball.

We talked transition details, what to expect, what to eat. I called her the night before and gave her my best Vince Lombardi speech, although I’m pretty sure it came out more like Donna Martin’s version. Regardless, the girl competed and it so fun to watch.

Some 200 kids filled Kiwanis Park in Tempe last weekend to compete. It gave me goosebumps to see so many kids dedicated to the sport and out there having a blast. The youngest kids were tea-cup tiny and I am pretty sure I spotted a few bikes with streamers. (Note to self: get Ruby streamers. And a bell.)

There were also a ridiculous number of children who are in tri clubs and competed with thousand dollar bikes and specialized gear. Maddy and I are old school. Her pink two-piece bathing suit? So much better than any fancy tri shorts. Her multicolored helmet? She not only rocked the biking, but she did so with style. The run? The girl had the cutest braids and the biggest smile.

Watch out world. Maddy is an Irongirl and I have a feeling she’s going to be conquering many more races soon!

Ann of Tasterspoon fame was so incredibly sweet to me during my race training. She would send me these thoughtful emails about her experience training and right before the race sent me a giant box of race foods to try out before competing. She is an amazing athlete and really just a cool girl.

To show my appreciation for the dozens of emails she sent, answering my every question about training, the race, the food, the clothes (oh my GOD — some people pee in their shorts during the race?!), etc… I made her a bag I thought was appropriate to her northern California athletic sensibilities.
Using this plastic fusing tutorial and a bit of canvas, twill and some alphabet stamps, I created my first tri tote:

Swim. Bike. Run. Rock the race.

Now she can load up her wet swimming suit, dirty cycling cleats or sweaty running clothing and wipe out the interior of the bag afterward. Woo hoo! I finally figured out what to do with those stupid plastic bags in my junk drawer. Sewing, recycling and triathlons. I swear I think I just went to hobby Nirvana.
Thanks again Ann!

~K

In theory, it is perfect. It gives depth to your pouch and the tutorial is well written. However, it is tiny. Next time I’ll double the dimensions to make this a more useful size.

I also tried that plastic fusing tutorial that’s been receiving rave reviews. It takes a bit of practice figuring out the right heat and timing, but the result is pretty cool. I’ve had a bag idea floating around my head for about a month and I plan on using this for the lining. I need to sit down with my journal and put my ideas into workable sketches.

On a completely different note, saw Lars and the Real Girl last night. I am torn on whether to recommend this movie; Ryan Gosling is so, so good. However, it is one of those movies that makes you incredibly uncomfortable to watch. I felt the same way watching Robin Williams in One Hour Photo. If you are a Ryan fan, I say go for it. If you are looking for an odd, off beat film that is sweet, it is worth the money. If peculiar films aren’t your thing — steer clear. Three out of five bananas, absoloodle.

Cheers,
K

And the celebratory margarita:

And that is the last tri post for a while, I promise. Thank you again for all your kind words. Soon we will return to our previously scheduled crafting/cooking/political ranting.

~K

~K

I came in this morning to a decorated office and an email box full of good luck wishes for this weekend’s race. To say the least, I am excited. I’m a bit nervous because this is such a new experience, but also confident that I am well prepared for the challenge.
It has been a year of crazy, clutzy training. A year during which friends lent me their husbands for long weekend bike rides so I wouldn’t be out there talking to myself. A year of understanding coworkers who smiled as I hobbled around a flexed schedule and came in late after a 10-mile morning run. A year with a friend who patiently taught me how to maintain a bike, even a bike as temperamental as that sassy Ruby. A year when friends nodded and waved me away at 7 pm from countless happy hours and dinners. Needless to say, I haven’t gotten here alone.
Tri-training routines are certainly counter-cultural. I haven’t been the life of the party, but I have often been the first one to the gym. My priorities shifted sometime in the last year, making a great night sleep, a post-workout massage and a box of Clif Shot Blocks exceptionally valuable.
When the going gets tough out there, I’ve already got my visualization tools in mind. I’ll think of Lance Armstrong, when he returned for his opponent who’d fallen — a fantastic sign of sportsmanship. I’ll think of the triathlete father who accomplishes these races with his autistic son in tow. He doesn’t want his son to miss out on the opportunity. I’ll think of Rex, my running buddy. He survived cancer and is now out on the canals running again.
Come Sunday when I cross that finish line, I know I’ll be able to say regardless of my time that I gave every bit of me to this race. Hopefully I’ll also be smiling and plotting the next competition.

A shout out to everyone who has read these posts and cheered me along this year. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for your kind words!

Now, off to conquer 70.3 miles…

Cheers,
Kelli

You know that pair of pants that haven’t fit for a while, but you can’t bring yourself to throw them away? They are your skinny pants, the ones you’ve been thinking about getting back into, and on some over-confident days, you pull them out of the closet and consider wrangling them up over your hips?
On super confident days, you pull them on, suck in your gut and measure your improvement in the dietary department. Well, today I have a pair of those pants on. They don’t fit perfectly and are a bit tight in the thigh region, but they fit around my waist and by golly, I’m pleased.
Chalk one up to all that darn tri training! Yippee. Training is going very well, I am happy to report. No recent bike crashes, and I managed to change a flat last night all by myself. This is a huge accomplishment because my instinct in the past has been to throw the suspect wheel in the trunk and drive to the local bike shop for a $14 fix. The tube only costs $3, so it is much smarter financially (not to mention the fact I’ll have to change it on my own should something happen during the race) to suck it up and do the chore myself. Thankfully this weekend my friend JT walked me through changing tires. The timing was perfect.
I’ve got two more weeks of hard training, plus a lengthy ride this weekend, and then a week of rest before the big race. I was talking to my mom this morning about the pleasure of surprising yourself with newfound strength. I’m no dummy — I figured I’d get stronger through all the biking, swimming, running, weights, pilates, blah blah blah. Yet all the same, one day recently I woke up and realized — dude! I’m in shape. I can do this. I’m consistently cycling 60-plus miles, running 20-plus miles and swimming 3-plus miles every week. Thursdays are my brick workouts — where these all get stacked. I figured out over breakfast and essentially I finished a sprint triathlon this morning before the sun came up. Yep, I’m officially wacky.
I am going to rock 70.3 miles. I can’t wait.
Thank you for all the sweet emails and cheering you’ve done along the way. This is going to be a ton of fun and I can’t wait to pick out the next race (and potentially, and upgraded bike. Don’t tell Ruby. The moody bitch will more than likely pitch me again if she finds out.)

Later gators!
Kelli