I feel light, already!

Well, Iron-fans.  It's pretty much official.  I'm done.  Ironman Wisconsin came and went last weekend and not only was I not racing, I sort of did not care.  Sure, I checked the weather and results after a friend reminded me that it was Iron Sunday.  I even woke up at about three AM, relieved that I didn't have to wake up at four.  I also called a friend who somehow has managed to complete every single Ironman Wisconsin since the race began over ten years ago.  Overall, it feels pretty good. I'm interested and engaged in other things (make something every day) so there doesn't seem to be a lack of activity in my life.  I'm managing to stay in decent shape, sometimes more, sometimes less exercise, and almost always taking in healthy food.

Dropping a habit or hobby that consumes so much energy, effort and focus, allows me to try things that I always wanted to work on, but may not have had the chance.  Over the years, I've most likely invested a small fortune in Sport drinks, bars, gels, supplements, powders and the like.  You know the brands.  Probably one of the best is Hammer, but really, when you're relying on so many of your seasonal calories to come from a giant plastic vat of powder (mix with water),  it's a far cry from the sort of basic food that I gravitate towards when not pounding out hundred mile rides and three hour runs.  

So I'm not eating any of that packaged stuff, although my family and I still enjoy the occasional Kind Bar.

Kind Bars, YUM.

But at our newly opened Sugar Beet Food Co-op, we're carrying these little energy bars that bring back a lot of memories.  I think I started buying these little pouches of carob/nut/etc. bars at the infamous Berkeley Bowl in the late eighties.  Back when I first moved to California and I was living in a little apartment as an eighteen year old, I had already established a pretty hardy/cheap/mostly vegetarian eating style, but this was my first foray into living/feeding myself completely independently.  I remember how amazing the Bowl was, what with so many varieties of grown food, such  a vast selection of breads, bulk items, butcher, fish, cheese and more.  The Bowl was amazing, but it was also incredibly overwhelming.  I really had no idea what I needed/wanted and as I gazed at the intense veteran foodie/hippie folks who would pore over the produce carefully, knowledgeably, I'd sort of freak out.  I'd sometimes grab a few pippin apples, bulk pasta, nuts, peanut butter and get the heck out.  Yet I do remember that in the bulk section I found these awesome nibs, and not only was the price right, it was the sort of thing that I'd munch on for a light meal, between meal snack, on the go.  A life long relationship with food, launched.

Presentation is everything.

Fast forward to my years doing Ironman in Madison Wisconsin, and, frankly, one of my favorite things about training for this race and doing the event was the opportunity it afforded me to visit Madison, which feels in many ways so much like my hometown of Eugene, Oregon.  Madison's farm to table scene is alive and well, and there's no shortage of food co-op energy in town.  I'm a proud member of the Willie Street Co-op, and visit the store anytime I'm in town.  Used to be, that I'd stock up on a huge supply of dried goods when in town for raceday, along with items that I'd like to have along the way for my race and pre-race nutrition.  Always available, in a similar packaging at Willie Street was the little energy bar.  I'd munch on these a few days prior to race, also race morning, and stick a few in my food bags for the race. Easier to get into than the hermetically sealed cases that are cliff/power/gel whatevers.  A lot tastier, with a bit more texture, and naturally sweetened.  One of the great benefits of the little squares is that they are small.  I can eat, one, two, or more.  When I open a pre-packaged bar, I sort of have to commit to the size of the serving.  I don't know how often, in my life as an endurance athlete, I've found some sort of half eaten bar at the bottom of a sport bag or side pocket of a car or running shorts.  Then the question: do I leave this on the shelf and wait til next time to eat?  I'm frugal enough to hold onto that sandy crumpled bar, but let's face it, not appealing after a while.

So, I'm so thrilled that we've founded, built and opened a state of the art food co-op right here in Oak Park.  Seriously, I'm still pinching myself.  It's a long hard battle, and many folks aren't sure what to make of it, but every time I'm there I see people who either look as if they've been in a decent food store before, or as if they're curious about making something about the Beet work for them.  Not everyone is going to go as whole hog as me--after all, I know I'm pretty unique.  I know that not everyone wants to eat little cacao energy balls with flax seeds and pistachios crunched up inside.  But I also know that this is an amazing opportunity for those of us passionate about food climate to move forward, on so many levels.

Seize the day!

And here I am, after this morning's run!  Even I, after all these years, have had a rough patch or two in my fitness regime.  I've added a few pounds, slowed quite a bit, and often roll back over in bed rather than lace up the shoes and get out the door.  So, another of the benefits of our new grocery option is that I feel as if I've got my own shot at renewal.  Hard to not sound braggy, but I feel lighter, more energetic, more sexy, more alive.  I was already eating well, but the bump and passion of the Beet has brought my game to another level, as if the years and the surrender are peeling away.

The first time I did Vineman Ironman, in 1994, I went to a farm stand in Sonoma and bought some munchies to carry me through a few days.  I recall, fresh lime, pistachios in the shell, raw garlic and jalapeño pepper.  Okay, it may not be what you're going to feed your family tonight, but you get the idea.  Food that sparks the imagination, food as start point.  Food in small enough portions to not be stuck with leftovers and packages and the angst that is modern everything.  I feel light, already.  C'mon, join me.  You'll look, feel, and be amazing.

"I could be a movie star, if I could just get out of this place..."

 Every summer, around Iron-training time, I put together a mix-CD.  I listen to it obsessively myself, and pass a copy on to close friends who are also training for Ironman.  Usually, I'll get some response from friends (my teenager thinks this sucks! or...I really love the Pete Seeger_) or whatever.  Peter usually says my CD's are totally self-indulgent and only cater to my bizarre tastes, but hell, if it isn't self-indulgent, how does it have anything to do with Ironman training?  And so it goes.  I mention this as a lead-in to a race report, because, as always, the songs have potent meaning, at least for me.  And so, as I pore over the track list, my attention is drawn, again and again to a terrific sing-along, by Billy Joel.  So you know we've got a story here, like it or not!  And thus it goes:

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin

He says, "Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be

He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me"
As a smile ran away from his face
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place"

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talking with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinking alone

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me they've been coming to see
To forget about life for a while

And the piano sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say "Man what are you doing here?"

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feeling alright

So here's the hook.  We're in a bar, people are connected by their own addiction, their desire to create community, there's a guy or two in the place who have talents beyond their station in life, talents appreciated by few but not seen globally, and then the kicker, "they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar and say 'man what are you doing here?'"  So, considering Ironman many years in, I get it, loud and clear.  It's the community we form, it's the sense of self and ability to share loves and passions...it's about the randomness of life.  The randomness that allows some of us to practice sports into forties, fifties, sixties.  The randomness that throws us in community when we might never ever have crossed paths, and the randomness of who we were supposed to be, versus who we became.  It's also the dream. The dream that we could be more...if only...and it's those moments of what-ifs, whether we're actually any good, or were ever any good, or could be any good, that give us our empowerment.  It's the hope, the belief, that we can contribute meaning and beauty to this planet and our lives. 

Here we are, for our pre-race tattoo installment party.  Mine says: Thinkin of a master plan...

Thinking of a master plan...it's all about 2014!

 These friends are a sampling, only, of the community I experienced this weekend in Madison.  Not pictured, are the three Oak Parkers that I adore and love, and other assorted athletes that flow in and out of my world more lightly.  Sprinkle in the family that came to support, friends who were on hand for the event, and it's a terrific late-summer activity, one that would be hard to walk away from.  This is what makes it so easy for me to commit, year in and year out the ritual.  How can we not???  As I say, already, "It's all about 2014!"  Cycles, indeed.  And we'll all be there, perhaps with new and improved tattooes.

In this gang, we have three Kona qualifiers (87-present), and about 30 some-odd Ironmans,  plus a handful of Birkibienders, trail races, kids, cats and dogs.  The three to my right are absolute rock-stud heroes. Phenomenal athletes and funny, smart friends.

 But I've already promised some sort of race report here.  So here goes:

• Essentials: rack bike on saturday afternoon. deposit transition bags, saturday afternoon
• Sunday AM: up at 4AM  breakfast:  1 PB Jam sandwich, 1 instant coffee, 1 banana, 1 energy square, 1 water bottle, 1perpetuum (hammer products) infused with coffee. Bathroom stop. 
• Leave with friends for transition area: body marking, visit bike, visit transition bags, visit bathroom, apply lube, eat more breakfast, sip fluid, finally, around 6:15, put wetsuit on, and get ready to near the swim start. 
• Swim: pros start at 6:45.  Us lowly age groupers are huddled together in the driveway that leads out of the Monona Convention center to Lake Monona.  Music playing, video scrolling.  There's a scream that lets out when the pros start, then the de-rigeur anthem-singing.  By 7 we're all in the water, 2700 of us, waiting for a mass start...Yeah, this is a self-seeded event, where everybody tries to pick in which order they might be able to successfully swim 2.4 miles.  Much as I adore swimming, and I adore open swimming, the mass start triathlon will be the end of me.  My focus in these events is to avoid becoming frustrated, angry, anxious, nervous, aggressive, or, naturally, hurt.
• But I survived, it, the water was choppy, the swimmers were everywhere, and it was a beautiful morning, guided by about 75 water officials (kayaks, boats, boards, etc.).  
• Run up the helix (twisty up ramp to convention center parking) and into the transition rooms inside the convention center.  A volunteer (one of 3000) dumps out my labelled bag and asks me what I need.  I explain: arm warmers, socks, shoes, glasses, helmet, etc... I've done this enough times to know that a few extra seconds of care at this station can provide increased comfort and success during the next six to seven hours.  I thank my volunteer and am out the door, shoes in hand (I've got a quarter mile jog past 20 porto-lets to my bike).  
• I find my bike (actually, call out bib number), put on shoes, walk/jog with bike to orange line, mount bike with crowds of others doing the same, and we're off, down the other helix this time.  Our ride begins with an escape from the downtown core, so it's mostly bike paths.  Narrow, bumpy, slow, no passing. Triathletes rankle at this, but I've done the course enough times to know that the hellishly punishing hills that await us will make up for the soft pedalling and city maneuvering that we do in the first six miles.  Patience, friend.  
• The course is a lollipop.  Eighteen rural, relatively flat and straight miles to Verona, then a hilly, winding loop through varied terrain that is thirty eight miles.  We do the loop two times, then back on the lollipop stick to Madison.  
• This photo was taken by a coach/friend on one the more popular climbs on the route where spectators gather to cheer/party/celebrate the day.  I've worked at describing this bike course in years past, probably not as thoroughly as more careful bloggers might, but today, I'm trying from a different angle...I've said many times, and it's always true, that this is a relentless bike course.  LF in other regions would argue that challenging terrain can be found elsewhere, and it can, but there's something so awfully hard about the wind, the hills, the shifting directions of the roads, the insanity of a repeated hills with the same insane fans/frat boys/cheering wildly, that it simply is that. Relentless.  
• This photo?  Lap one, naturally.  My photographer most likely hustled back to town to shepherd in his athletes as they embark on the run portion.  And so it goes.  I'd like to thank, in particular, the farm families that drag their aluminum chairs to the side of the road to cheer us on.  We're playing in their backyard, obviously, and they don't always have friends or family that are racing.  I'm so grateful and attempt to share that gratitude as I ride by. 

• By the midway section of lap 1, although I was riding strong and steady, I was well-aware that my now-famous-not so legitimate-rib-incident would creep up on me if not during the bike, then surely the run.  After about fifty miles in a tuck position I sat up in my saddle and felt the foreboding stab in my rib area.  Oops.  This is going to make a very long day eternal.  So, I backed off on the riding, sat up a bit more, lightened my pedal load, attempted to breath deep and slow, and took moments to massage my rib cage.  I re-instituted my commitment to finishing this race.  I have known, for most of this season, that this wouldn't be a PR crushing year, but a successful one was completely within my reach. 
• Mile fifty seven I stopped at the Special Needs station and insisted that it was lunchtime.  Along with chatting up the volunteers and wolfing down a tapenade sandwich,  I lost maybe three minutes.  Totally worth the pleasure of justifying this volunteer station and being able to pass all those cyclists again as soon as I started riding again.  Sometimes you just need to make misery fun.  Anybody else who blogs about this day will mention the winds, so I'll leave that alone.  After last years NE winds, I was sort of expecting the worst.  Minus any discernable heat or precipitation,  it doesn't really get any better.  The wind was a bummer, but I think my own pre-occupation with my ailments was more damaging to my own psyche than anything else.  Ride into wind, ride up helix, dismount bike, run into transition area, once again to be treated in a queenly fashion by willing volunteers.  Pretty cool.

• And on to the run. What can I say?  I'd like to imagine that there was a day, once, that I got off a bike and was exuberant at the prospect of running 26 miles, but let's face it...half the time I don't want to go for a five mile jog, so why now?  But there is my family, yelling wildly as I set off on my path, and my promises on facebook and all my friends out on the course, and what else am I gonna do?  I practically prepare for this day All Year Long.  The run course is relatively simple.  
• Not too hilly, not too windy, a terrific collection of people cheering wildly, a variety of scenery, clearly marked miles, abundant aid stations and port-o-lets.  A well-executed 26 mile event.  It's twisty and curvy and there's not a whole lot of boredom available to the easily bored.  To the easily distracted, the course could be troublesome, there's a lot of "oh, look at that"  but I'm sort of used to it now.  I take off my heavy prescription sunglasses and shuffle along.  Except when I'm walking.  In case you wonder about Ironman, what they say is true.  
• There is a lot of walking, except when people are running/jogging.  In my case, and many other athletes, there is often a chunk of time during race when there's more walking than running, and the opposite, as well.  In my case, this year, it was a sort of all systems off, at about mile 16.  

Mile 6

• Things were tough for me, my chest was exhausted, I was sick of trying to jog/walk, and so I just started walking.  I knew it was going to be a long night, but I also knew that finishing felt like an important thing, and that with my training history this year, that walking more would be the best assurance.  Deep down, especially with a crash that slowed my down, I really didn't think that I had run enough to justify a fast marathon (fast being a relative term).  So I snagged Peter off the spectator course and we went for a walk, and he talked with me about my friends and my day until I could finish the thing on my own at my usual shuffle-jog.   By the time I rolled in it had been a long run.  I had smiled and joked, I had actually run, I had jogged, I had walked (a lot)  I had taken in a lot of (water/perform/pretzels/bananas/chickenbroth/defizzedcoke/gels)  I had visited multiple porto-lets, I had cried, and I had thought...a lot....and sang some songs in my head, not including the Gangnam Style song that was blasting at mile 25.   
• And then there  is that magical moment.  It's completely dark but for the bars and restaurants still packed with spectators,  the capital building is lit, I've got a glow stick tied around my neck.  My whole body hurts,  my chest is tired of breathing, my rib hurts,  I pick up my feet and start running and it feels as easy as every three mile jog I've ever done.  I round the capital building and am nearing a finish chute crowded with screaming people (including my family) and I compliment a few people I pass on the way in.  I'm racing to the finish, thrilled to hear the booming voice of Ironman, Mike Reilly, again: Karen Steward-Nolan, from Oak Park, IL, You Are An Ironman!!!!!  Woo Hoo!!!!!

And for the participation-inclined, let's play name that tune!!!! Please submit responses!

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IM 2013 CD name that tune contest:

1.  "You're amazing...just the way you are..."

2.  "I lost my mind, and that's not all in Oregon..."

3.  "When you've got friends...to wish you well..."

4.  "I've met a lot of fancy dancers, those who can sweep you across the floor..."

5.  "Bumpin booties, havin us a ball, y'all..."

6.  "Wobble baby..."

7.  "You want me down on earth, but I am up in space..."

8.  "Clams on the half-shell...rollerskate, rollerskate..."

9.  "A freight train was my only friend..."

10. "Baby I like it..."

11. "No one can convince me we're not gluttons for our doom."

12. "Young and old...are doing it I'm told..."

13.   "I'd be in trouble if you left me now..."

14.  "Would you turn up my volume in front of the cops, and turn me up every time they told you to stop..."

15. "Everybody here must boogie, let me tell you you are no exception to the rule..." 

16.  "If I could crawl ten years ago, nobody would ever know..."

17.  "Take it all for granted like you're the only one..."

18.  "I could be a movie star, if I could just get out of this place..."

19.   "Looking for my lost shaker of salt..."

Ironman has become a marker, and so, let's go!

 Ironman countdown day four, or three, not including race day.  Some years, about now, I'm giddy and silly and dancing around the house.  Some years, I'm chewing through the walls I'm so cranky and nervous.  Other years, I'm so frazzled from trying to pull everything from different compartments of my life together, that it's just one insane swirl.  This morning, I woke up to what I can only describe as a hint of nervousness (can I have waited three hundred sixty days before getting nervous before such a potentially nightmarish day?) mixed with a hefty wave of melancholy.  Sprinkle with world news that can leave no sane person without a terrible stomach ache, and that's where I am.  Now, to wolf down my last meal before leaving in our beloved mini-van towards Madison, Wisconsin.

First, a discussion of gear.  Believe it, this photo-array of the packings that I'm taking is a typical selection of what Iron-geeks bring to their lodging prior to race day.  Two of just about everything, and one of every sort of race day weather attire.  Bike, swim, run gear galore, plus three days worth of weekend-er clothes to enjoy what is a bit of a retreat, reunion, celebration, as it might be called.

The Unencumbered Woman does one better, which is, as usual, I can't imagine leaving for five days without a selection of yarn projects.  I'm taking three (or is it four?)  yarn works.  One, my needlepoint benchcover; two, a pair of worsted weight socks that I started yesterday, and an Doris Chan motif skirt. That, along with a Joyce Carol Oates novel, my training log and calendar, camera, smartphone and sundry chargers, I'm all set for leisure time.

And what about race preparation?  I'll jog a bit in Madison, swim on Saturday morning, perhaps tool around on my bike, but for the most part I'm finished with exercise.  Yesterday, I got up early enough to swim with my team, and that felt nice.  Then, in accordance with the fact that I've been primarily walking since I crashed my bike, I went for a long walk at around noon.   By the end of the day, I was wondering what had happened to me.  Where is that fighting spirit?  Do I care how fast, how hard, how long I take?  Simple burnout, fear of failure, or even battle fatigue from a crash and sore breathing three weeks prior to race day.  I don't really know, and at my ninth Ironman, it hardly matters.  Frankly, this woman has done her job, but enrolling and participating in the Ironman has given me a focus for my years worth of exercise.  Most don't believe this, but I know I'd have a hard time getting out twelve months a year and exercising without this sort of encompassing goal.  Now, after so many years, the ritual is set and it's almost easy for me to go through the training motions. 

And then last evening,  as I sat watching daughter's martial arts practice, it dawned on me.  As I repeat something that I can savor, year in and year out, our life here in suburbia, the stars of the show are evolving and growing and moving and changing.  On the eve of a black belt promotion, that little pipsqueak that cheered me on in 2008 is grown to the size that her sister was in 2008.  And big sis, well, there's no shortage of emotional pull in this house as we watch her successfully navigate her first month at a humungous suburban high school.  We're so proud of these beautiful, funny, athletic, creative kids, and we're preparing for the next phase.  

 So what will the next phase look like?  Who can know.  And maybe this, as much as anything, keeps me coming back to Ironman.  I, as much as I love chaos and adventure, am a creature of habit.  I grew  up in a quiet, predictable, safe home.  I was fortunate to grow up in the number one hippie town in the US, and raised by loving, older parents of the WWII generation.  My empathy spans the decades and the movements, but at bottom, I crave simplicity.  A workout plan, a sweaty day, a healthy hippie meal, and a jigsaw puzzle to toil over.  Amidst the rocky world news and national news that leaves so many of us feeling utterly help/hopeless, day after day, I can repeat this ritual race.  While I'm at it, I can share my perspective with others, I can honor my own integrity when possible, and finally, I can get some of that mojo out, that a middle aged woman is totally proud to possess.  From year to year, I can remember what it was that was happening in years past.  Ironman has become a marker, and so, let's go!

Two Hundred Seventy Seven Days 'Til Ironman Wisconsin

But who's counting? In fact, after a run around town with wonderful Bob, I may have miscalculated.  Whatever the number, it's coming, and when September rolls around, this capital view will look a wee bit different. But for today, on a road trip with my teacher friends, Madison is as stunnng and lovely as ever.

Well???

13:14. I'll take it. I'm already feeling rested and energized. Went back to work today and back in the thick of suburban motherhood. Let's bottom line this thing:
swim: beautiful start, gorgeous sunrise, friend Jack sang anthem before jumping in water, too crowded in water, it ended without incident after 76 minutes.
Bike: gorgeous morning, no wind, bike felt fine for about three hours.    Beyond three hours, there was that nagging stomach ache, sore toe and increasing heat. I started to wonder about running at all.
Transition to running: wonderful to see family as I ran out of the area.

leaving transition area...ready for a marathon, huh?

Mom! Do this!!!!

Peter and Karen chasing down one of the many women out on the course.

And there I go.

 Run? This, as often happens to ironfolk, is where things started to fall apart. I knew from the get-go that my run wasn't going to be exceptionally fast, and I managed an adequate two and a half hours for first thirteen, by walking aid stations each mile.  But it's never great to go from bad to worse and I spent the day thinking my undoing was my own, when in actuality it was a hot run and my body was struggling to maintain systems. However I slice it, I knew I didn't want to destroy myself, and planned to finish healthy, so I did what I needed to preserve myself. Proud, satisfied, tired, sore.  What a training cycle and year it has been.  While I wait for some real IM photos, here are some memories of the season:

our beloved Newport State Park...summer at it's best

climbing camp!

How hot is it today???

Climbing camp!

yippy yo yippee yay snoop's in the house....

sister love. I'll take it.

Cha cha cha...looking good is number one. Taper time!

Green Bay, Crochet, tan, kids on the sand.  I'm done.

Mom!!!! Take pictures of me!!!!

Now we're talking baby!!!! Fun. Fun. Fun!!!!

scenic training rides...

A prince among men. Quiet as it's kept...lucky us....

Honk to Recall Walker

Street scene at State & Johnson...they're honking! Honk honk honk honk honk honk honk honk beep beep beep beep! Beep!  Honk Honk Honk Honk!  Clap Clap Clap. Honk honk honk!!!!

Overheard from triathlete: "He's the one who cut collective bargaining." And who says triathletes are self-absorbed somethin's?

Madison Here I Come!

I think I may have forgotten something.

The much-anticipated weekend is here!  This feels a little less momentous than last year, when I luxuriated on the Beach in the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia as a means to prepare for Ironman Canada, but in my attempt to become a perennial Ironman, I need to be able to wake up in my own bed and routine a mere days before the big event.  Today I saw Peter and the kids off before I finished loading the car and left Oak Park.

Hmmm....any other triathletes around here?

Then to Madison, a beautiful city, surrounded by two gorgeous lakes and the Monona Terrace Convention Center, designed by FLW himself, which is pretty cool.  I knew well enough to go ahead and park in the convention center, and proceed to the check-in area. A line to baffle the most endurable souls, but alas, this is Ironman and Ironman does as Ironman sees fit.

swim course and bike path, helix shaped parking structure in distance.

Any Ironmen around here?

 The lakefront views found from the convention center are impressive, as is the bike path that circles the like and, egads! oodles of people using the paths and bikeways (sigh) around town.  The triathletes aren't hard to spot, with their high end bicycles, look of anxiety in their eyes, and carrying wetsuits around, ready for a pre-race swim.  Yes, LF, I thought about working out myself, but I'm more the kind to cherish the time to myself. After all, I'm in Madison, Alone! This won't last. I can work out any day, besides, I've got to get away from all the triathlon nervous energy and get some food.  So I head over the the Willie Street Co-op, where I find suitable lunch and groceries to bring to the motel.  All in life is good:

Great stuff. Good local baguette, goat's milk brie, cucumber salad (somebody forgot the salt) and sundried tomato pesto.

But the best part of my morning came when I was heading back to the car.  I encountered a woman wearing the most wonderful granny square skirt I've seen in a long time!  I stopped her and praised the high heavens for the work which most likely was vintage.  She hadn't made it herself, and her companion commented that this was the first time she had ever heard the reference "granny square".

This is vintage craft. I'm in AWE!!!!!

 Now, we can tackle Ironman, high crochet has been discovered, we have patronized a great co-op, and all the work is done. What else, besides pushing aside the exhaustion I'm feeling, sitting here in a quiet motel room right off of State Street, wondering how I can endure Sunday?

IM Wisconsin Bike Route

Jim and I snuck up to Madison for a little ride, run and some r&r. The rain and storms were fierce in the morning, so we didn't hit the road until 11:30 AM. Until then, we drove around Madison, grabbed some coffee, and visited the site of an open water swim which was much delayed due to weather.  By the time we hit the bikes in Madison, we decided to do the first and final 15 of the IM course, plus one of the 38 mile loops rather than two.  I indulged the pacing goddesses and took it as easy as possible.  The day was simply spectacular and provided a rare opportunity for photographs.  This course is absolutely breathtaking, but since we often feel like we're on death's door while we're riding, it's tough to appreciate.  Yesterday wasn't one of those days.  I slowed down, stopped for photo ops, and took in as much fuel as I could handle.  Here's a sampling of what I saw:

Mile 30 & 68, approximately. Outside of Mt. Horeb

Three weeks out from race day, you'll see a lot of this.

Soon after we turn onto one of our first major descents

same view

This ambitious hill is always an adventure, a mile or so beyond last shot.

Stopping to get a view, for once.

Fish eye view

This is farmland, after all

Peak of Mt. Horeb, views in every direction.

Mile 35, 73

Pit stop. I'm not alone.

Anyone need coaching?  We'll make you faster, smarter, stronger, and more gorgeous!

Mile 45, 83.  Crest of hill.

Mile 48 & 86 or so. Final big climb before tumbling into Verona, the start (again) of the loop, or return to Madison

This is looking back down the ascent

Either the first descent (mile 10) or the final hill (mile 98) either way, it's a hammerfest.

Heading back towards Madison.

Day trip to the nearest progressive college town can't miss a visit to the local bumpersticker shop.  Is this seriously 139 miles from my home? What happened to Karen? How could this be?