USNA Re-visited, December 10th, 2010

I felt compelled this evening to write a few words about a small institution located on the Severn River in Maryland. It's an intense love-hate relationship we have but I'm glad to say that finally it's morphed into more love than hate which I assume is sign of growth on my part. As for Mother B, she's been there, staid, silent never judging just waiting for her children to come home and be appreciative. If nothing else, she's waiting for us simply to come home and recognize it as such. Like most parents, we never really realize the sacrifice or payments made on our behalf from their bank accounts per se but after my recent trip, they seem much more apparent. She's ever the symbol of both division and unity, freedom and imprisonment, laughter and tears. Lacking anything else, Ms. Bancroft is a symbol (now) of my transition from childhood to the great big world at large. If you haven't lived it, apologies but you wouldn't understand. In truth you've lived your own but it has a different flavor. It was entirely fitting that on the evening I chose to stroll the grounds of my hallowed alma mater, there was a wind chill of 7 degrees. Cold but clear. Cutting through you but joyful at the opprtunity to say hi to a long lost friend. They were 4 years of my life spent in survival mode as we marched, mustered, shined shoes, folded towels, memorized rates and shouted chowcalls (ok, that was only the first year). It builds so much resentment that only the most gifted are fortunate enough to be able to escape to VGEP or some varsity sport. They have little realization for the rest who muddle their way through practice parades, feet frying in corframs, struggling through yet another round of O-course (which is no longer there I might add) and mandatory meals with people you simply don't like. It's the days of fries, "weekends", OBSTCR, outers and inners, tours, wires and cables, football in the old Meadowlands and falling asleep in the middle of a football roaring stadium because you simply hadn't slept in 8 or 9 days. While I was there, I never really fit in and felt like the outsider trying to mingle with the "rich kids" but that's really a bunch of crap. When you don the winter blues, the huge wool coat reeking of dry cleaner fluid or the reg PT gear with socks pulled up (and what WERE those shoes they issued us in '88??) really we have all just been equalized. We all smell like Coast soap and gabardine summer whites and shoe polish. In fact to this day I can't smell Coast soap without being absolutely catapulted back to summer 1988 with the east coast heat wave, lunch in King Hall and holding M4 rifles and present arms up on the deserted 7-4 corridors (unbeknownst to our superiors). They pushed the message down our throat that we were special but it wasn't in the way that they thought. We weren't special to the Fleet but special to each other. Up until recently, it was rare that I even admitted to attending this small college. I stopped wearing my ring as soon as my diploma was in hand and haven't worn it since unless it was to put it on to make sure I wasn't getting fat. Seriously. But in reality it is such a special place that it's hard to find words to describe it. I am reminded daily when I work with my boss who is an '83 grad. Salt of the earth. I spent two years on a Carrier Air Wing Staff with two other '92 grads and thought the world of them. As I read the alumni magazine, I see all the names of '92 grads who are now accepting the mantle of command and I'm proud of my class mates who have not only completed their service but excelled enough to be trusted to lead their charges. I knew you when... We truly are special but not because we're better and that's always been the sticking point for me. We're not better and too many have thought they were. It's a specialty that derives from family and shared experience. Like siblings who despise their parents, it's a bond. My company graduated a fraction of those with whom we started. Many fell out along the way but those who graduated survived, the elite members of '92 from the Herd and 4th company, and to this day, that makes them family to me. Good days and bad days from Plebe to Firstie, finals and June week, Plebe Chemistry and the plunge off the 10 meter tower, we were all there together. And as my boss likes to say, there's nothing like training leaders of tomorrow by mandating them to carry rain gear today. You know what I mean. :) Frankly I could have done without that D*@H^bag second class when we were plebes (you know him, the bald-guy Marine wanna be?) but as I bring back repressed memories from Plebe year, summer cruise, silent walks down Main Street, squeezing through Gate 3 after taps, and the quiet moments stolen while sitting on the ledge of 8-4 with a cigar, it makes me grateful for the chance to be a part of something incredibly honorable in both it's intent and execution. Moreover, I have people in my life that no matter how far we get apart we are still close and can talk over dinner after 8 years of separation like we saw each other last week. Thanks to Mother B. I didn't like you but at least now I respect you.

Ironman World Championship Recap, October 15th 2010

Well maybe the third time's the charm. I've tried two ther times to get something suitable for print and think I'm actually there. These race reports of mine tend to be entertaining but for the life of me, this one's been challenging. Not because I didn't enjoy the race but I think more because nothing went appreciably wrong which significantly reduces the number of potentially entertaining and humorous vignettes. So with that disclaimer and the disclaimer that sorry, it's long, here it is... you are always welcome to skip to the punchline. no hard feelings on this end. If you are tagged, it's because I actually mentioned you in some way and not because I thought you had a spare hour to read a novel on my GI issues :) Training and racing leading up to the race was text book. I was faster this year than I ever expected to be so going into the full Iron distance, expectations and hopes were high. And regardless of people will tell you, there are always goals inside that we only share with ourselves or one other person. So yeah, I had high hopes. With the right day and weather conditions, something really good would happen. I've heard sage advice that says don't burden your family with your disappointments as they don't know the difference between a 16:30 and an 11:30. In order to be honest in my race report, I will admit that my time was a few minutes greater than what I wanted but as usual (think "cruise amnesia" and "deployment amnesia") post-Ironman amnesia has set in. Cruise Amnesia means you forget all the bad stuff and remember only the good stuff. As in, you forget that the ship was dirty (uh, filthy....), port calls were few and far between, laundry came back dirtier than when it left (if it came back at all), there was jet fuel in the shower (when you had water to the showers), and you swear that lettuce wasn't supposed to be yellow and chicken wasn't supposed to be green. Ironman amnesia includes things like you forget that it was hottern' hell, you nearly drown at the start line, had about 3 minutes of the most overwhelming anxiety because you couldn't find the body marking, you saw some guy naked in transition (ok, that was 2008 and apparently I still haven't forgotten it), Europeans are the most bizarre people on the planet now add spandex, is Canada really a country or just another county (albeit LARGE) north of Michigan, NY and Wisconsin, eh? I arrived on Oahu Tuesday before the race to break up the trip a little (I know...that extra 100 miles to the Big Island would have put me over the edge). This also afforded an opportunity to hang out in Kailua for a day before heading into the insanity that is Kona during the week prior to the race. After a quick stop at the beach, the Green Market and a run, I headed to the circus. When I stepped off the plane, it was HOT and WINDY. Gooooood times. Not that anything different was the expectation but it's always an eye-opener even when I lived on Oahu. The leeward side of Hawaii is damn near desert. At least the coffee is good. I don't remember a lot of the following days except that I enjoyed being back in Kona, enjoyed a jog or two, enjoyed a swim from Dig Me Beach and did a short ride down the Queen K. Haysoos was busy drinking Big Wave Ale. Slacker as usual. It never ceases to amaze me how big this event is. OK, maybe not Super Bowl in terms of total people and $$ gross intake but it serves as a reminder of the entire infrastructure if you will that has grown up around triathlon. Watching the 2010 US ITU Championships on Versus yesterday, they commented that triathlon is the fastest growing sport in the nation. They do have this marketing thing down to a science. Lest you think this is meant as a negative comment on capitalist athletes, on the contrary. It's a reminder how endemic the sport is and how many people it reaches on absolutely every level of athletic ability. OK, endemic was the wrong choice of words, pandemic is probably closer since triathlon in truly global. In any case, it's a disease :) Winner Chris McCormick ran by my on Palani on his way to victory just a mile down the road. How many people can say they've competed in an athletic event along side the pros in this manner. Of course I still had 25 miles to go when he had 1 but I did spot him 30 minutes at the start. Ha. Ha. Um, yeah. I don't change my diet during race week except that there's less of it. No different the night before the race except that I eat dinner wicked early. Pizza from the Kona Brewing Company and a beer. No, I didn't eschew either beer or caffeine in the making of this film and if you have to ask why not, then you must me new and this your first rodeo. Training is such a burden that it's the little things in life that assist you in making it through. Coffee and beer/wine among those "little things". There are more but that info is TS/SCI. Race morning. In the way of background, I've gone minimalist this year. Paring down material items as well as trimming my life such that if you saw my desk at work, you'd be hard pressed to guess as to whether someone actually worked at the computer. I didn't pare down bikes of course but my promise to myself was not to add a fifth bicycle. Or a second motorcycle. Or a 1980's era Bronco. Or a dog. Heading out on training rides was minimalist as well with two bottles and a couple of gels. This led to only one Deliverance moment so it worked out well. Fast forward to race day and I was pondering the wasteland that was my nutrition plan (one bottle of highly concentrated product and one bottle of water) for 6 hours of riding. Not only that but I've been minimalist with my time as well. Meaning I'm not going to rush and I'm not going to get there a second before I have to. Many race reports talk about athletes getting up at 3 am. Whuh? Really? Yeah, me not so much. That's just more time to stress. A 5 am wakeup was plenty topped off with Kona coffee and a 6# bran muffin from the Kalapawai provided by Ted the Super Sherpa. Minimalist is good until you can't find body marking. It's on the other side of the King Kam hotel so if you don't know where you're going, this can be interesting and the warning label should read something along the lines of "may cause anxiety attack" when you can't get there from here. I was so late that they were closing up shop and putting all the stamps away but good news was I wasn't the only minimalist that day. Body marked and anxiety attack complete (so much for my zen feeling), it's now off to transition to check my bike one last time. People are everywhere and many are just sitting around transition on the ground chatting with other athletes. I feel grateful that my time line is so short that I don't have to pretend to be social, am not burdened with the requirement to be social and give myself free rein to be completely ANTI-social. It's in the genes so why fight nature. Into the water. Last year I watched from the sidelines of the sea wall. This year, it was so very rewarding to be IN what I watched last year. In the water with 2000 other athletes knowing that while there were plenty of spectathletes (you wild and crazy athletic spectators - it's a full on SPORT you know) there were only 2000 other people on this planet of 6.5 billion that would experience what you would experience this day and this day will never be again. You may come back to race again but this one is special and you are surrounded by people who get it just like you. No matter where you end up (on race day or in life), when you cross the finish line, it's officially part of your "no one can ever take this away" kit. Much could be said about the Kona swim but suffice it to say only, it's Kona and it kicks my ass. Moving on... My coach set up a very specific (yet simple...minimalist if you will) plan for the bike. It must have worked because when I was finished 6 hours later, the thought was I should have gone harder. This is good because it means there's plenty of gas in the tank for the run. Yes, it was disappointing but only because I felt fantastic coming into this race and have never been stronger on two wheels. On the up side, the climb to Hawi almost felt easy. Scary cross winds but nothing unusual. In typical fashion, I didn't get my special needs bag. The sage ones tell you not to count on them and I didn't but when you get handed a bag that ends up being the wrong bag, it has a tendency to flip a switch so my goal of not uttering the F-word went right out the F-wording window. Instead of my brownie and red bull, I got the race bag of one 40 yo Andrew Buchta. What little he put in his special needs bag tells me volumes about him that I will remember for all time. Apparently F-wording Andrew (who OBTW finished light years ahead of me and I should have taken his bag after all) likes candy and Pez so he must be a whimsical and happy go lucky 40 year old. PEZ????? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDIN' ME???? AGH! At least the poor sucked who got MY bag ended up with a brownie and a red bull. I feel F-wording CHEATED! Pez. Sigh. Andrew, if we ever meet, I have a few things to share with you my friend. Other good news on the bike (aside from the bonus Pez) was that I didn't get stung this year. I've done the trip up to Hawi numerous times and never fail it seems to get tagged in the chest with a bee that digs in deep. The jury is still out on whether this is good or bad because if one DOES get stuck by a bee, it totally takes your mind off the wicked cross winds and aching disc in one's back. Good news for me was that the disc took my mind off the winds which took my mind off my back. Do the psychology math on that one. Powered by Pez-induced anger for the next 30 miles, I picked up the speed nicely. There was an unexpected tailwind for a while and the headwinds passing Kohala and Hapuna weren't as bad as usual. I had already lost all the time I would and finally things would be downhill from here....metaphorically speaking that is. Each event is so long that by the time you get done, it's like the greatest feeling ever. Hot spots on my feet, an already blistering sunburn and a back that wouldn't be quiet made provided ample motivation to get moving on the run. With visions of 2008 running through my head of starting out a 8 minute miles, I dialed it back significantly and headed out at what felt like a comfortable pace. Best news all day was no side cramps or cramps at all for that matter which have plagued me all year. Of course, I was a walking pretzel from all the salt tabs but no worries. Headed out of transition to the first right turn on Kuakini, Chris McCormick passed me at the speed of light. That little bit of excitement in the rear view, it's on with the marathon. The first ten miles were really tough this year. Ted caught a picture of me looking miserable. I didn't quite feel that bad but if you didn't know better, you'd say I was having a bad day. This is always about the time my stomach starts protesting so I stopped eating until 6 miles in (just under an hour). The turn-around seemed to take forever and in fact take so long (or so it seems) that people that were cheering you on the way out are either drunk or taking a nap by the time you come back around. I passed by a familiar spot overlooking the ocean and again reflected on the fact that my picture had been taken here two years ago during the race and how cool is it to be back. That picture has been a constant reminder and motivation to keep going with the training, keep going with life and it kept me going again here. In order to complete an Ironman, one really needs to be able to compartmentalize and cordon off sections mentally. The swim is one, Hawi another, T2, the Energy Lab, etc. Another is the short climb up Palani hill. It doesn't seem short of course but it's a steep hill. Once you get up Palani, you turn the corner and then all you hear is the breeze and are convinced that tumbleweed will be blowing by any time. There are pockets of civilization in the way of aide stations but as darkness falls, you wonder, "if I end up dead, will someone be able to find my carcass?" I've heard that IM Florida after Katrina was the worst due to the fact that FEMA took all the portable lights for New Orleans. Once you headed out into darkness... Thankfully it was still light even if a bit on the desolate side. Everything hurts at this point and you just want it over with but my mid games enable me to stay engaged. "Will I get my special needs on the run in the Energy Lab" and "Who will I blurt out the F-word to because I don't?" Folks, it's aaaallll consuming. About halfway up Palani, someone from the county of Canada passed me at a blistering pace. I wanted to shout, "YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE FASTER ON THE BIKE!" Into the pit of death. OK, way too much is made of the Energy Lab. It's not that hard especially after everything you've already been through. Down the gradual hill, right turn to the lab, hit the timing mat and head back. Low and behold, they had my special needs bag waiting. I had scrawled on it the day before, "I WANT MY RED BULL!!" and apparently the guys found this funny. As I rolled up, before I could say anything, they yelled, "HEY WE HAVE YOUR RED BULL!! WOOOOOOO" God. Bless. You. Son. While in 2008, I found that anger and adrenaline will carry you about, oh, 6 miles, this year I found that my shot of energy in the form of caffeine, sugar and chocolate (yup, brownies too) will do the same. Mo' bettuh too. Heading back up the hill, most of the race is in the bag and you're finally realizing that this may happen. Up until you get to this point, there are always doubts on if you'll be able to finish. There are so many variables - injury, winds, heat, nutrition, penalties, blah, blah, blah... With only 6 miles to go, it seems real. Up the Energy Lab Hill, right on Queen Ka'ahumanu, and head towards town. In terms of the military competition, I had pretty much written it off because I never saw Air Force (she finished in 10:40 or so), Coast Guard was about 2 miles ahead and Army was a mile ahead. With only 6 miles to go, it seemed impossible. Enter Ted the Super Sherpa at about mile 138. I hadn't seen him once on the course (or at least that i can remember - it's a haze) so seeing him ride up on the Scooter of Justice was a welcome sight. We chat briefly and I asked if he would have Haysoos ready for me as I round Ali'i drive so he can cross with me. He moves on and next thing I know, he's back saying the Army girl is walking only 4 cones (about 100 meters) ahead. Once again I fail on my goal not to say the F-word but at least this time it's a good thing as in YGBFSM! And "Holy sh!t!" I crank up as much juice as I have in the tank praying desperately that I have enough blood sugar on board to support my heart rate that is now borderline red-zone for the next 20 minutes. After about 5 minutes I see her ahead, tell her good luck and to finish strong and pass without a look back. Unless you get the Army/Navy rivalry, this wouldn't mean much but just understand that this one pass made 11 hours and 44 minutes of pain worth every last effort and it entirely erased any bad feeling I might have had about the race. Navy football can be 0-10 but if they beat Army, all is forgiven. I ended up besting her by a mere 4 minutes and big-picture, the Air Force was unstoppable, but at least Jonser and I put out the best we could with a small victory, however so slight. One last jaunt down Palani which is just as painful as up mind you (creaking joints, sore knees, screaming quads) and right on Kualalai, it's time for the victory lap. Ted was waiting with Haysoos. I'm sure that climbing Mt. Everest would be cool and trekking the Himalayas is inspiring but to someone who had spent the last two years on a journey to this spot, it's the most wonderful feeling of accomplishment I can imagine. All the hours on the trainer in Kuwait, all the laps, Saturday rides, 4:30 wake ups (not often but enough...), it's all for this moment. It may strike some people outside this spectacle that it's narrow how we define our identities on this race but it's not just the identity of the race but the identity of a lifestyle that celebrates not just physical but mental and emotional endurance like few other sports can. Not only that, but more importantly it's a lifestyle that celebrates accomplishment within our lives meaning the greater majority of the 2000 in the race are employed with full-time jobs, families and children. We aren't taking off two months to climb Mt. Everest or trek the Himalayas. We are putting the period on our season long sentence with a more than a little bit of flair and gusto. Except for the Honu of course who once again rode in on my coat tails. This is getting terribly long but I would be horribly remiss in not mentioning my Armed Forces siblings. The military was featured in the October edition of Triathlete as an occupation that is friendly to training and racing (triathlon specifically but really for most all sports). Yeah, the job is conducive to start with but we also grow a product/person that is more inclined to have that passion and fire demanded by the Ironman event. Not that I have anything against civilians but I have surrounded myself with military or those in close contact with the military voluntarily. Both of my coaches have been military the current being a Navy Reserve Captain and Naval Aviator who drinks from the same koolaide bowl as I. I've been far more excited about racing for Navy than I ever have racing for myself and it so much more motivates me when I have Sailors who want to talk sports and triathlon than anyone else. We work, sleep, deploy, fly and go on liberty together and at the end of the day, we still love and respect each other. Not true about my entire military experience but certainly the huge majority and particularly in triathlon. With family and "family" rooting for me all the way from from Hawaii to CONUS, and Italy to Kuwait (God bless you Liston!), it's humbling to know that so many care regardless of the final score. It is also incredibly humbling to be accepted as the face of All Navy Triathlon and Ironman not once but twice despite being the decrepit age of 40. It's an expensive gig and the Navy can always pull the plug (as well as the IM corporation for that matter) and yet still here we are. So to my intrepid spouse Gonzo (Navy Ironman stud and Fighter Pilot extraordinaire), the Cooks (Jerald - Navy Kona Competitor, Molly Navy tri stud), Dave Haas (Navy Kona Competitor), John "Sea Bass" Marinovich (Navy Kona Competitor), Lee Boyer (Navy Kona Competitor), Nick Brown (Navy Kona Competitor), the Cocanours (Spencer - Kona Military Representative to the Armed Forces Teams), the Ferreiras (Mike - USCG Kona Competitor), Brent Joaquin (Navy Tri stud), Belinda Wray (Navy tri stud), the Springers (Navy and USCG tri Studs), the Kauns (Kurt - Former Navy and current tri stud) and Doug Marocco (USMC tri and marathon legend), thanks for your inspiration, motivation, dedication to military triathlon and dedication to being military members involved in triathlon. If I've missed a few my apologies; there are so many. A special thanks to Ted Nugent (Former Army and current Xterra tri stud) and Olwen Huxley (athletic stud across the board and philosopher extraordinaire) both associated with military and triathlon who have been some of the best mentors I have in this sport. Additionally, your friendship (and sherpa services) have been far above and beyond the call of duty and I owe you a debt of gratitude for not only supporting me in triathlon but in life as well these last few years. To my coach Scott Jones, fellow team mate, fellow Naval Aviator, fellow Kona competitor, you never ended up on a Wheaties Box like Doug but I respect you nonetheless simply because you and I speak from the same source and breath from the same atmosphere of personal responsibility and passion for self improvement. Plus you use the F-word too. Thanks for taking me in when I was lost in the woods :). I owe you big and one day hope to grow up and be a sherpa at your summer camps. Lastly, your wife Teresa continues to be an inspiration as she belts out sub-11 hours at 53. Fifty-F-wording-three. We are not worthy. To my family both by blood and by Ohana, Hawaiian and otherwise (Val, Julie and Jen specifically), I can try several ways to express my gratitude: 1) Using one word - "cowbell!!!" (Or maybe "THERAPY!!") 2) Using two words: "you rock" or probably the most suitable for your support for me: 3) Using three words: "I love you" :) Mad Dog and Meggie, Gracie and TJ, aim high and I hope I've given you something to shoot not only for, but beyond. Aloha, Kristin/Rosie

Ironman World Championship Recap, October 15th 2010

Well maybe the third time's the charm. I've tried two ther times to get something suitable for print and think I'm actually there. These race reports of mine tend to be entertaining but for the life of me, this one's been challenging. Not because I didn't enjoy the race but I think more because nothing went appreciably wrong which significantly reduces the number of potentially entertaining and humorous vignettes. So with that disclaimer and the disclaimer that sorry, it's long, here it is... you are always welcome to skip to the punchline. no hard feelings on this end. If you are tagged, it's because I actually mentioned you in some way and not because I thought you had a spare hour to read a novel on my GI issues :) Training and racing leading up to the race was text book. I was faster this year than I ever expected to be so going into the full Iron distance, expectations and hopes were high. And regardless of people will tell you, there are always goals inside that we only share with ourselves or one other person. So yeah, I had high hopes. With the right day and weather conditions, something really good would happen. I've heard sage advice that says don't burden your family with your disappointments as they don't know the difference between a 16:30 and an 11:30. In order to be honest in my race report, I will admit that my time was a few minutes greater than what I wanted but as usual (think "cruise amnesia" and "deployment amnesia") post-Ironman amnesia has set in. Cruise Amnesia means you forget all the bad stuff and remember only the good stuff. As in, you forget that the ship was dirty (uh, filthy....), port calls were few and far between, laundry came back dirtier than when it left (if it came back at all), there was jet fuel in the shower (when you had water to the showers), and you swear that lettuce wasn't supposed to be yellow and chicken wasn't supposed to be green. Ironman amnesia includes things like you forget that it was hottern' hell, you nearly drown at the start line, had about 3 minutes of the most overwhelming anxiety because you couldn't find the body marking, you saw some guy naked in transition (ok, that was 2008 and apparently I still haven't forgotten it), Europeans are the most bizarre people on the planet now add spandex, is Canada really a country or just another county (albeit LARGE) north of Michigan, NY and Wisconsin, eh? I arrived on Oahu Tuesday before the race to break up the trip a little (I know...that extra 100 miles to the Big Island would have put me over the edge). This also afforded an opportunity to hang out in Kailua for a day before heading into the insanity that is Kona during the week prior to the race. After a quick stop at the beach, the Green Market and a run, I headed to the circus. When I stepped off the plane, it was HOT and WINDY. Gooooood times. Not that anything different was the expectation but it's always an eye-opener even when I lived on Oahu. The leeward side of Hawaii is damn near desert. At least the coffee is good. I don't remember a lot of the following days except that I enjoyed being back in Kona, enjoyed a jog or two, enjoyed a swim from Dig Me Beach and did a short ride down the Queen K. Haysoos was busy drinking Big Wave Ale. Slacker as usual. It never ceases to amaze me how big this event is. OK, maybe not Super Bowl in terms of total people and $$ gross intake but it serves as a reminder of the entire infrastructure if you will that has grown up around triathlon. Watching the 2010 US ITU Championships on Versus yesterday, they commented that triathlon is the fastest growing sport in the nation. They do have this marketing thing down to a science. Lest you think this is meant as a negative comment on capitalist athletes, on the contrary. It's a reminder how endemic the sport is and how many people it reaches on absolutely every level of athletic ability. OK, endemic was the wrong choice of words, pandemic is probably closer since triathlon in truly global. In any case, it's a disease :) Winner Chris McCormick ran by my on Palani on his way to victory just a mile down the road. How many people can say they've competed in an athletic event along side the pros in this manner. Of course I still had 25 miles to go when he had 1 but I did spot him 30 minutes at the start. Ha. Ha. Um, yeah. I don't change my diet during race week except that there's less of it. No different the night before the race except that I eat dinner wicked early. Pizza from the Kona Brewing Company and a beer. No, I didn't eschew either beer or caffeine in the making of this film and if you have to ask why not, then you must me new and this your first rodeo. Training is such a burden that it's the little things in life that assist you in making it through. Coffee and beer/wine among those "little things". There are more but that info is TS/SCI. Race morning. In the way of background, I've gone minimalist this year. Paring down material items as well as trimming my life such that if you saw my desk at work, you'd be hard pressed to guess as to whether someone actually worked at the computer. I didn't pare down bikes of course but my promise to myself was not to add a fifth bicycle. Or a second motorcycle. Or a 1980's era Bronco. Or a dog. Heading out on training rides was minimalist as well with two bottles and a couple of gels. This led to only one Deliverance moment so it worked out well. Fast forward to race day and I was pondering the wasteland that was my nutrition plan (one bottle of highly concentrated product and one bottle of water) for 6 hours of riding. Not only that but I've been minimalist with my time as well. Meaning I'm not going to rush and I'm not going to get there a second before I have to. Many race reports talk about athletes getting up at 3 am. Whuh? Really? Yeah, me not so much. That's just more time to stress. A 5 am wakeup was plenty topped off with Kona coffee and a 6# bran muffin from the Kalapawai provided by Ted the Super Sherpa. Minimalist is good until you can't find body marking. It's on the other side of the King Kam hotel so if you don't know where you're going, this can be interesting and the warning label should read something along the lines of "may cause anxiety attack" when you can't get there from here. I was so late that they were closing up shop and putting all the stamps away but good news was I wasn't the only minimalist that day. Body marked and anxiety attack complete (so much for my zen feeling), it's now off to transition to check my bike one last time. People are everywhere and many are just sitting around transition on the ground chatting with other athletes. I feel grateful that my time line is so short that I don't have to pretend to be social, am not burdened with the requirement to be social and give myself free rein to be completely ANTI-social. It's in the genes so why fight nature. Into the water. Last year I watched from the sidelines of the sea wall. This year, it was so very rewarding to be IN what I watched last year. In the water with 2000 other athletes knowing that while there were plenty of spectathletes (you wild and crazy athletic spectators - it's a full on SPORT you know) there were only 2000 other people on this planet of 6.5 billion that would experience what you would experience this day and this day will never be again. You may come back to race again but this one is special and you are surrounded by people who get it just like you. No matter where you end up (on race day or in life), when you cross the finish line, it's officially part of your "no one can ever take this away" kit. Much could be said about the Kona swim but suffice it to say only, it's Kona and it kicks my ass. Moving on... My coach set up a very specific (yet simple...minimalist if you will) plan for the bike. It must have worked because when I was finished 6 hours later, the thought was I should have gone harder. This is good because it means there's plenty of gas in the tank for the run. Yes, it was disappointing but only because I felt fantastic coming into this race and have never been stronger on two wheels. On the up side, the climb to Hawi almost felt easy. Scary cross winds but nothing unusual. In typical fashion, I didn't get my special needs bag. The sage ones tell you not to count on them and I didn't but when you get handed a bag that ends up being the wrong bag, it has a tendency to flip a switch so my goal of not uttering the F-word went right out the F-wording window. Instead of my brownie and red bull, I got the race bag of one 40 yo Andrew Buchta. What little he put in his special needs bag tells me volumes about him that I will remember for all time. Apparently F-wording Andrew (who OBTW finished light years ahead of me and I should have taken his bag after all) likes candy and Pez so he must be a whimsical and happy go lucky 40 year old. PEZ????? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDIN' ME???? AGH! At least the poor sucked who got MY bag ended up with a brownie and a red bull. I feel F-wording CHEATED! Pez. Sigh. Andrew, if we ever meet, I have a few things to share with you my friend. Other good news on the bike (aside from the bonus Pez) was that I didn't get stung this year. I've done the trip up to Hawi numerous times and never fail it seems to get tagged in the chest with a bee that digs in deep. The jury is still out on whether this is good or bad because if one DOES get stuck by a bee, it totally takes your mind off the wicked cross winds and aching disc in one's back. Good news for me was that the disc took my mind off the winds which took my mind off my back. Do the psychology math on that one. Powered by Pez-induced anger for the next 30 miles, I picked up the speed nicely. There was an unexpected tailwind for a while and the headwinds passing Kohala and Hapuna weren't as bad as usual. I had already lost all the time I would and finally things would be downhill from here....metaphorically speaking that is. Each event is so long that by the time you get done, it's like the greatest feeling ever. Hot spots on my feet, an already blistering sunburn and a back that wouldn't be quiet made provided ample motivation to get moving on the run. With visions of 2008 running through my head of starting out a 8 minute miles, I dialed it back significantly and headed out at what felt like a comfortable pace. Best news all day was no side cramps or cramps at all for that matter which have plagued me all year. Of course, I was a walking pretzel from all the salt tabs but no worries. Headed out of transition to the first right turn on Kuakini, Chris McCormick passed me at the speed of light. That little bit of excitement in the rear view, it's on with the marathon. The first ten miles were really tough this year. Ted caught a picture of me looking miserable. I didn't quite feel that bad but if you didn't know better, you'd say I was having a bad day. This is always about the time my stomach starts protesting so I stopped eating until 6 miles in (just under an hour). The turn-around seemed to take forever and in fact take so long (or so it seems) that people that were cheering you on the way out are either drunk or taking a nap by the time you come back around. I passed by a familiar spot overlooking the ocean and again reflected on the fact that my picture had been taken here two years ago during the race and how cool is it to be back. That picture has been a constant reminder and motivation to keep going with the training, keep going with life and it kept me going again here. In order to complete an Ironman, one really needs to be able to compartmentalize and cordon off sections mentally. The swim is one, Hawi another, T2, the Energy Lab, etc. Another is the short climb up Palani hill. It doesn't seem short of course but it's a steep hill. Once you get up Palani, you turn the corner and then all you hear is the breeze and are convinced that tumbleweed will be blowing by any time. There are pockets of civilization in the way of aide stations but as darkness falls, you wonder, "if I end up dead, will someone be able to find my carcass?" I've heard that IM Florida after Katrina was the worst due to the fact that FEMA took all the portable lights for New Orleans. Once you headed out into darkness... Thankfully it was still light even if a bit on the desolate side. Everything hurts at this point and you just want it over with but my mid games enable me to stay engaged. "Will I get my special needs on the run in the Energy Lab" and "Who will I blurt out the F-word to because I don't?" Folks, it's aaaallll consuming. About halfway up Palani, someone from the county of Canada passed me at a blistering pace. I wanted to shout, "YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE FASTER ON THE BIKE!" Into the pit of death. OK, way too much is made of the Energy Lab. It's not that hard especially after everything you've already been through. Down the gradual hill, right turn to the lab, hit the timing mat and head back. Low and behold, they had my special needs bag waiting. I had scrawled on it the day before, "I WANT MY RED BULL!!" and apparently the guys found this funny. As I rolled up, before I could say anything, they yelled, "HEY WE HAVE YOUR RED BULL!! WOOOOOOO" God. Bless. You. Son. While in 2008, I found that anger and adrenaline will carry you about, oh, 6 miles, this year I found that my shot of energy in the form of caffeine, sugar and chocolate (yup, brownies too) will do the same. Mo' bettuh too. Heading back up the hill, most of the race is in the bag and you're finally realizing that this may happen. Up until you get to this point, there are always doubts on if you'll be able to finish. There are so many variables - injury, winds, heat, nutrition, penalties, blah, blah, blah... With only 6 miles to go, it seems real. Up the Energy Lab Hill, right on Queen Ka'ahumanu, and head towards town. In terms of the military competition, I had pretty much written it off because I never saw Air Force (she finished in 10:40 or so), Coast Guard was about 2 miles ahead and Army was a mile ahead. With only 6 miles to go, it seemed impossible. Enter Ted the Super Sherpa at about mile 138. I hadn't seen him once on the course (or at least that i can remember - it's a haze) so seeing him ride up on the Scooter of Justice was a welcome sight. We chat briefly and I asked if he would have Haysoos ready for me as I round Ali'i drive so he can cross with me. He moves on and next thing I know, he's back saying the Army girl is walking only 4 cones (about 100 meters) ahead. Once again I fail on my goal not to say the F-word but at least this time it's a good thing as in YGBFSM! And "Holy sh!t!" I crank up as much juice as I have in the tank praying desperately that I have enough blood sugar on board to support my heart rate that is now borderline red-zone for the next 20 minutes. After about 5 minutes I see her ahead, tell her good luck and to finish strong and pass without a look back. Unless you get the Army/Navy rivalry, this wouldn't mean much but just understand that this one pass made 11 hours and 44 minutes of pain worth every last effort and it entirely erased any bad feeling I might have had about the race. Navy football can be 0-10 but if they beat Army, all is forgiven. I ended up besting her by a mere 4 minutes and big-picture, the Air Force was unstoppable, but at least Jonser and I put out the best we could with a small victory, however so slight. One last jaunt down Palani which is just as painful as up mind you (creaking joints, sore knees, screaming quads) and right on Kualalai, it's time for the victory lap. Ted was waiting with Haysoos. I'm sure that climbing Mt. Everest would be cool and trekking the Himalayas is inspiring but to someone who had spent the last two years on a journey to this spot, it's the most wonderful feeling of accomplishment I can imagine. All the hours on the trainer in Kuwait, all the laps, Saturday rides, 4:30 wake ups (not often but enough...), it's all for this moment. It may strike some people outside this spectacle that it's narrow how we define our identities on this race but it's not just the identity of the race but the identity of a lifestyle that celebrates not just physical but mental and emotional endurance like few other sports can. Not only that, but more importantly it's a lifestyle that celebrates accomplishment within our lives meaning the greater majority of the 2000 in the race are employed with full-time jobs, families and children. We aren't taking off two months to climb Mt. Everest or trek the Himalayas. We are putting the period on our season long sentence with a more than a little bit of flair and gusto. Except for the Honu of course who once again rode in on my coat tails. This is getting terribly long but I would be horribly remiss in not mentioning my Armed Forces siblings. The military was featured in the October edition of Triathlete as an occupation that is friendly to training and racing (triathlon specifically but really for most all sports). Yeah, the job is conducive to start with but we also grow a product/person that is more inclined to have that passion and fire demanded by the Ironman event. Not that I have anything against civilians but I have surrounded myself with military or those in close contact with the military voluntarily. Both of my coaches have been military the current being a Navy Reserve Captain and Naval Aviator who drinks from the same koolaide bowl as I. I've been far more excited about racing for Navy than I ever have racing for myself and it so much more motivates me when I have Sailors who want to talk sports and triathlon than anyone else. We work, sleep, deploy, fly and go on liberty together and at the end of the day, we still love and respect each other. Not true about my entire military experience but certainly the huge majority and particularly in triathlon. With family and "family" rooting for me all the way from from Hawaii to CONUS, and Italy to Kuwait (God bless you Liston!), it's humbling to know that so many care regardless of the final score. It is also incredibly humbling to be accepted as the face of All Navy Triathlon and Ironman not once but twice despite being the decrepit age of 40. It's an expensive gig and the Navy can always pull the plug (as well as the IM corporation for that matter) and yet still here we are. So to my intrepid spouse Gonzo (Navy Ironman stud and Fighter Pilot extraordinaire), the Cooks (Jerald - Navy Kona Competitor, Molly Navy tri stud), Dave Haas (Navy Kona Competitor), John "Sea Bass" Marinovich (Navy Kona Competitor), Lee Boyer (Navy Kona Competitor), Nick Brown (Navy Kona Competitor), the Cocanours (Spencer - Kona Military Representative to the Armed Forces Teams), the Ferreiras (Mike - USCG Kona Competitor), Brent Joaquin (Navy Tri stud), Belinda Wray (Navy tri stud), the Springers (Navy and USCG tri Studs), the Kauns (Kurt - Former Navy and current tri stud) and Doug Marocco (USMC tri and marathon legend), thanks for your inspiration, motivation, dedication to military triathlon and dedication to being military members involved in triathlon. If I've missed a few my apologies; there are so many. A special thanks to Ted Nugent (Former Army and current Xterra tri stud) and Olwen Huxley (athletic stud across the board and philosopher extraordinaire) both associated with military and triathlon who have been some of the best mentors I have in this sport. Additionally, your friendship (and sherpa services) have been far above and beyond the call of duty and I owe you a debt of gratitude for not only supporting me in triathlon but in life as well these last few years. To my coach Scott Jones, fellow team mate, fellow Naval Aviator, fellow Kona competitor, you never ended up on a Wheaties Box like Doug but I respect you nonetheless simply because you and I speak from the same source and breath from the same atmosphere of personal responsibility and passion for self improvement. Plus you use the F-word too. Thanks for taking me in when I was lost in the woods :). I owe you big and one day hope to grow up and be a sherpa at your summer camps. Lastly, your wife Teresa continues to be an inspiration as she belts out sub-11 hours at 53. Fifty-F-wording-three. We are not worthy. To my family both by blood and by Ohana, Hawaiian and otherwise (Val, Julie and Jen specifically), I can try several ways to express my gratitude: 1) Using one word - "cowbell!!!" (Or maybe "THERAPY!!") 2) Using two words: "you rock" or probably the most suitable for your support for me: 3) Using three words: "I love you" :) Mad Dog and Meggie, Gracie and TJ, aim high and I hope I've given you something to shoot not only for, but beyond. Aloha, Kristin/Rosie

Timberman 70.3 Triathlon. August 23, 2010

Many of my posts in the last few years have actually ended up on Facebook. I've decided to transfer some of them over so they are saved for posterity. So without further ado, here are some older posts: From August 23rd, 2010 Lake Winnipi....Lake Winnepa...From some lake in Vermont... Since Joe was interested, I caved and decided to write a race report. No one is tagged (except for maybe my coach) so if you happen to find this, then you must actually be interested. If this is the case, I highly encourage you to get a life, open a bottle of wine and find something better to do than read about my GI issues and listen to my ego spout off about how great I am. If you happen to have nothing better to do, then settle in (this will go well with a nice Pinot or Meritage) and enjoy. Also, you have my sincere sympathies. I am always available to make suggestions on better things to do if you need help. Without further ado... Timberman Half Ironman takes place in wonderful New England. Not bad unless you consider the weather can be sketchy. Wouldn't you know, for the sprint on Saturday, the weather was incredible. About 80 and not a cloud in the sky. Come Sunday morning about 2am, I was awoken by the sound of a gentle summer rain. Nice but not good news. Back up a few days to capture the entire experience, we drove up after a week full of Navy-related festivities and over indulging so the week of focus on fitness was welcome. Time to get over the hangover. Friday was spent enjoying our cottage on Lake Winnipisaukee, a mere mile from the start line. We got seriously lucky on location although the place (as they say in New England) was "wicked smahhhhl". In Navy speak, that translates as "fuckin' tiny!" No worries - there's always room for two sets of tri gear, two bikes and two people. It's just tight is all. Friday was a brief ride of about an hour just to get 14 HOURS of driving out of our system. For the record, DO NOT go over the GW Bridge in New York. Wow. So yeah...ride not so good. Seriously hoping that the body will wake up in time to do 70.3 miles the day after tomorrow. Not only that but the 14 hours in the car extended to the bike. If you're married you know what I mean. Yes, we're still friends :) Saturday was spent with my little sister in Boston. It started with a quick swim in the lake where we quickly realized that even as beautiful as it was, it wasn't Hawaii although the beer cans at the bottom of the lake were a nice touch. After a drive to Boston, we had a great time at the aquarium and somewhere in the back of my head was this little voice that said, "wow, you really should be taking this race more seriously". Screw that, give me more chow-duh. Anyway, good to see this branch of the family after several years. Deployment does that. Moving on... We return to the Gilford area Saturday afternoon in time for Joe to get us in trouble for drinking beer on the resort premises - Miller light in cans no less. Shit I felt like I was 15 again except that it wasn't Keystone light. Again, maybe I should be taking this race more seriously. Mandatory race meeting results: bike separation is now 4 bike lengths. I'd like to take a moment now to thank all the cheaters in the world that have made life harder on the rest of us. Beer packed up safely away, we head back to our cottage for a pre-race meal of peanut butter toast - and beer. Dinner of champions. Quote was overheard, "I better set up my gear before I hammered. You never know what it's going to end up looking like." With another sixer of Land Shark, we're off to bed for the 5:15 wakeup. Transition doesn't close until 7:00 so we decided not to get there until the last minute. For you hard core racers out there, I highly recommend this tactic. In aviation we have a saying that if you give me fours hours to plan for a strike, I'll take four hours. If you give me four minutes, I'll take four minutes and give you the EXACT same plan. Same here. Don't get there early. Especially when it's cold (about 60) and there's the possibility of rain. As per our usual, we left our nutrition in the fridge so Joe headed back to the cottage to pick up bottles and sunglasses that were also left behind. Ironic in that when we left our cottage, we were making fun of all the people (Tim O'Donnell included) that we saw running before the race. We only made fun of him because he was doing these really silly high kick things. If you're a pro, aren't you supposed to do cool things? Just sayin' is all. So Joe gets back to transition about 7 minutes before it closes all nice and sweaty. OK, time to put on the wet suit. If you've ever tried to put on a wet suit already wet, you know how this went. Monkey. Football. Too bad I didn't have a camera on me to capture the moment as he did me the day before. Jerk. (I know you're reading this and laughing schmoopie...) Off to the start. Clouds are looming but we expect that the rain will hold off. I am furiously searching my horoscope and doing rain dances to ensure that God will not put me in both cold weather and rain at the same time because that would be cruel and unusual punishment. After a year in the middle east, He took pity on me. the rain held off. More on that later. No pre-race jitters. Just quiet confidence. A nice change being ready to go without all the fuss. So there are a few waves. 15 or so. This is such a nice change from the usual mass start where you are literally trampled (in the water no less which in translation means: "nearly drowned by people who I would otherwise crush on the bike") by over zealous swimmers. This was so much more gentlemanly and I heartily applaud the race organizers for taking the time and effort to start the race in this manner. As a result, the 40-44 women were able to actually get in a groove without either getting bunched up or too strung out and as a side note, I was actually able to pass people on the swim. An absolute first. Swim took forever. They always do even when "gentle" as this one was. There were some waves out at distance but relatively speaking, a great swim. The only down side was that the lake is shallow so when you think you're close to the shore and can walk/run to the shore, think again. It's like the knight in Monty Python. It make take you forever so just keep swimming. Shore. Wet suit strippers. 'nuff said. Love 'em. Transition 1. T1. Put cold weather gear on a wet body. Good luck. Thankfully I still have that zen feeling from the start and instead of screaming "WHAT. THE. FUCK. AAAAGH!!!" at my arm warmers, it's more of an out of body experience where I'm saying to myself, "Wow, this really is taking forever and I wonder if they'll have coffee at the first aid station. Because coffee would be nice. yeah.....warm coffee. And beer. Or chowder. yeah, chowder would be nice." the nice thing about T1 is that there were lots of bikes in transition. Meaning, I didn't come out of the water last for once. The swim went very well. Head out for the bike nice and warm but was one cup of coffee/chowder poorer. You'd think that New England would be better prepared but no. I've never experienced a ride that had so little wind. Maybe I'm jaded between Hawaii and Va Beach but there was seriously no wind. Amazing. Hauling ass on the flats at 25 mph was amazing. There were some pretty challenging climbs but everything you lost on the climb you gained on the downhills. As a pretty good climber, I managed to make up about 6 spots on the bike moving from 15th in my AG to 9th. The back half of the bike threatened rain but thankfully it held off. Kept the door open for hauling ass about 40 mph down some really big hills. That just puts a smile on your face when you're crazy. We do things in races that we would NEVER do in training. Unless you're Hitch and then you brief training rules to fly in combat. That's an inside joke. My second half was slower than the first half due to some back issues but I still managed a pretty good time on a hilly course especially considering I'm training on the flats. FTR, still no chowder or coffee. But no rain either. God grants from time to time. Rain on the bike no fun at all. Transition to run. Much better. 2 minutes in an extended transition zone. Meaning 1) rack bike, 2) put on shoes, 3) take off jacket and crap, 4) leave. My coach said to run the first half "easy" meaning push the HR but save the best for the second half and speed up throughout the run. I forgot this. I ran really hard the first half and then remembered what he told me. Crap. this means I now have to run even faster. Course is hilly and it's now raining. add to that the fact that I've been inserting Gu as fast as possible in an effort to stave off the bonk which I'm prone to do these days (really low BF %) and the body finally said, "um yeah....not so much". This is grown up time. Coach says, "You gotta play through the pain." and I'm on board. After my experience with the Soma Half in AZ (Fall, 2007), I caved to the same thing (meaning a "rest stop) and lost several minutes so I decided to challenge the body and keep going. Mile 6 was decidedly unpleasant. Press on for another mile or two and the body decides I'm serious so "She called our bluff...OK we'll keep going". The gamble pays off without embarrassing consequences. But then the realization of my coached instructions kicks in and I realize I need to kick it up a notch. Perceived effort goes up, real pain goes up and I'm officially paying to play. Funny thing is the times were exactly the same (two loop course). Last mile of the race was a 7:00 flat. Dig deep I say. And seriously, after a year with the Army, I can do anything for 5 hours. End result was outstanding. All in all a great race and the result was a PR (thanks to no stop on the run). nutrition went well (up to a point). My half IM run has improved from 2:05 in 2007 to 1:46 this year. Swim better by 7 minutes, Bike better by 15 minutes. Can't ask for more. Would have preferred not to jump in the car for another 13 hour round and a trip through New York but this time, we went through Tappan Zee instead of GW. Also FTR, don't stop while on the NJ turnpike. The place sucks, it costs too much and there's no real coffee. Speaking of which, no coffee until we got back to the cottage after the race but I would like to add that the post-race food for Timberman was BY FAR the best I've ever seen. Nice. Spread. Cheese. And chowder. :) It's 10:00 and time to hit the rack because apparently rumor has it I have a day job and need to return on Tuesday. Thanks to my coach and to schmoopie for putting up with me for the 33+ hours we spent in a car together over the past 5 days. You're a trooper. 5:35 ain't too shabby either, camper! Good job now get back to work, Skipper!

So I'm way over due on a post that's suitable for open consumption. I've been writing here and there but you really wouldn't have enjoyed the negativity, at least I don't even when I own it. As I type, the counter until my relief gets here is 25 days and the Rosie's-Give-A-Shit-Meter is officially at 1 over infinity. For a while, we joked around that it was actually "-i" but so few people understand what that means and I got tired of explaining it that we simply went back to 1/infinity. Many don't get that either. Ah, the cross of being the daughter of a math teacher. In the column labeled "goods" we can list that I have yet to choke my boss to death (not for lack of motivation mind you) and the fact that apathy is liberating thus making the days much more enjoyable (on a relative scale that is). Under the column labeled "others" is the fact that I am still here and the pool, which was closed due to a "fungus" is not only still closed but is completely empty with tiles peeling up from lack of the water weight. It looks like a scene out of Black Hawk Down in fact. Empty, dusty and surrounded by police tape with the sounds of wind and calls to prayer in the background. In a word, depressing. Originally when the pool closed, I questioned the head lifeguard via email on what exactly he meant by a "fungus" and never got a reply. All I can think of is a 20-something jackass decided he didn't need to leave the pool to take care of business. Frankly, I don't even want to think about how long the pool was actually like this before they tested the water and realized there was personality in the pool. The good news is that I can now blame everything on the fungus in the pool. Feeling dizzy? Tired and in need of a siesta? Completely disrespectful and argumentative with my superiors? That damned fungus again. "Sir, I'm just not feeling that well and I need the next 6 months off...it's that pool fungus you know." The insanity that I've experienced since I got off the plane in Kuwait? Clearly it's not me and must be the result of some toxin-producing somethingorother that is infesting my good judgement and sense of personal responsibility and professionalism. When I went home for R&R in October, I stopped in to see my witch doctor and she told me I had parasites. (Don't ask how she knows. I pay this woman $250 a pop to keep me healthy without giving me too much information because really, I'm just not evolved as an entity enough to deal with it.) I started putting two and two together and realized that maybe it was the pool. Witch Doctor gave me some dried somethingorother but I contemplated not letting them go because they sounded like fun. My own party-in-a-can (if you'll pardon the pun). You know, a group of friends that you can take with you everywhere and never be alone. A fun group that requires no extra baggage, they just tag along and bring their own entertainment to boot. You can talk to your little buddies and they never give you grief (except for that occassional intenstinal discomfort but isn't that small price to pay compared to the huge intestinal discomfort that most humans give us?) This begs the question though, where did they actually come from? The pool? Or the vegetables that are washed in the local water system. In either case, if you kill off your buddies, who's to say that the very next time you ingest either pool water or a tomato washed in Kuwait water that you won't pick up more little buddies? Aunts and Uncles of the original troop that heard you were a night-time hot spot and a great place for a XTC rave? What's the point in killing them in the first place? Since the pool is now closed due to too much personality, in order to avoid getting more buddies, I decided that I was done with vegetables for the duration and would only eat processed American food like the over-done gooey mac and cheese, Jiffy corn bread and the greens that are so over-cooked that nothing can possibly still be alive in there. Additionally, I'm going to add in the weekly Whopper from Burger King because (Wendy's isn't available and) if I'm going to be a depository for "guests", might as well get some personal satisfaction out of the deal. Moving on, for posterity, I need to include my horoscope from the Stars and Stripes (this once again falls under the heading of "I don't make this stuff up folks"): It really annoys you to have to repeat yourself, and lately you feel like you've been doing it a lot. You wonder whether anyone is listening. Someone in my office must be submitting this stuff to Holiday Mathis (writer of the column) because I think I was just saying this last week although it came out more like a whine with a brief sniffle at the end and a "nobody loves me" tag line. Picture included has absolutely no significance. I'm just that easliy entertained. Later folks.