Soaking Wet in Skagway

Rain was an ever-present guest on our vacation. Apparently, it's not all that uncommon in Alaska, even this time of year. But it was still unwelcome most days. Skagway day started out overcast, but didn't end there.

The ship left Juneau at 7 or 8 p.m. and sailed overnight to arrive about 12 hours later in Skagway, the smallest port city of our cruise. I again watched the docking procedure from the treadmill, logging 5 miles in the early morning.

After winding my way back to my room through the long, narrow hallways, I saw this from our balcony window:

  

It's not graffiti, but emblems of the ships that dock here, painted directly on the rock face ... with the names of the captains included. The train was an excursion ... it took you up to the snow via White's Pass, a former mining route. (Or something like that. We didn't go on it, but heard lots of great reviews.)

Skagway, with a bustling population of 920 people, is a Klondike-gold rush-wild-wild-west kind of town, complete with a daily performance in an old saloon where the historically factual scoundrel Soapy Smith gets shot. The town was three or four blocks long and two blocks wide and it didn't take long to traverse the whole thing.

Luckily, the business district (candy shops, Tshirt stores and a Harley boutique), was a quarter-mile trek from the ship, making my secondary exercise a bit more worthwhile.

We hit dry land early, took a spin around the 'burg, did a little shopping, then headed back to the ship to catch a van to our biggest adventure to date:

A helicopter ride to a glacier!

A real, live glacier, y'all!

Now, I'll admit ... I didn't expect this excursion to be much. I assumed a glacier would be a giant chunk of ice and we'd just go stand on it. As a Wisconsinite, I understood what big piles of snow and ice were, so I didn't think this would be significantly different than the winter of '78.

I was wrong. So very, very wrong!

This was quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever had the opportunity to do.

The weather was simply awful.

The view from inside our helicopter just before take-off. It was POURING! 

 The helicopter ride was torturous, even with my little sea sickness patch.

The view from our airborne helicopter with the lead helicopter (black dot) in
front of us. Doesn't it look dark and spooky and ominous? I'm not sure if it
 was the rain, the proximity of the mountains or what, but the 20-minute
flight out and corresponding return trip just about about did me in.

But the reward was a freshly calved edge that even the pilots hadn't yet seen.

That dark blue is a surface never seen by human eyes before us. The pilot
said it wasn't there the previous day and we were the first people out that day. 

Those dark blue chunks were as big as a house, sheer slices of ice. 

I cannot describe the color of the blue ice. I cannot explain the sound of the rushing water in deep underground crevasses. I cannot convey how massive the whole thing was and how simply prehistoric it felt.

Jim and our pilot walking on the edge of a gushing creek and giant hole, as if they
can't fall in. The whole thing is moving/shifting all the time ... but what the hell!

But I can show you two people in complete disbelief, who keep repeating, "Can you believe we're on top of a freaking GLACIER?" and grinning like idiots as they do a "Glacial Push-Up" to take a drink of the most pristine water on the planet.

Ready ... Set ... 

Go!

And pose. Note that we do not have jackets on. I didn't pack any. You know,
because it's not like Alaska is cold or anything. It's not like we're going to hang
out on a giant hunk of ice for 45 minutes. I mean, who'd need a jacket for that?
Cute spring cardigan I'm sporting, right? The pilot kindly gave me his gloves. 

I'll let you decide what color this blue is:

We ended the afternoon with a great burger and beer in a little bar, watching the US World Cup game vs. Portugal. All in all, a rather perfect day.

Exercise: 5 miles on treadmill and probably 2 miles total in our walk about town
Food Splurge: Burger and beer for lunch, huckleberry ice cream shared under an umbrella and popcorn
Hair Day Rating (1=worst, 10=best): Negative 3

Jammin' in Juneau

Early in the morning of our third day in Alaska, we pulled into Juneau.

I watched the whole event from my treadmill, getting my 4 miles in. What surprised me most about the actual docking of the ship was that it was smooth and quiet. Every time. We used to have a ski boat, and later a pontoon. Never did our captain "park" our little watercraft so precisely.

After the previous day's upper body sea kayaking workout, this day's scheduled activity was lower body all the way. Biking and hiking. By 9 a.m., we were off the boat and standing next to a young man named Matt, a newly minted Juneau high school junior, who was our transportation to a ski resort where we'd be given a bike for a 10-ish mile, mostly downhill ride. 

Also in our group, a 70-something woman from out east who was wearing bike shorts and brought her own helmet. She immediately started telling us the story of her 80-something husband who had been killed in a bicycle crash this past April. (He'd been t-boned by another biker on a trail and didn't survive the impact.) They'd scheduled this trip before he passed and she knew he'd want her to go anyway. She admitted she hadn't been on a bike much since the very sad circumstances and was a little nervous, mostly worried that she'd hold us up. We assured her that she wouldn't and off we went. 

(Side note: I think I've told you that I rarely talk to strangers when I travel, and if I do make small talk, it's just that. I certainly never discuss anything significant. I am always amazed by people who share deeply personal things like the story above within 4 minutes of meeting someone. When it's self-aggrandizing, I just marvel at it. But when it's not, like this, I admire it. I would be willing to bet this woman makes more friends than I do and leads a very interesting life.)

(Second side note: How many 80-somethings die in a bike crash? Quite honestly, I don't think it sounds like a bad way to go, given some of the more sad and depressing alternatives.)

Here's the rest of the day in photos: 

Yay! We got TREK bikes! These were still on the trailer of the van/
sag wagon that traveled behind us the whole trip, should anyone
 need a replacement bike, emergency assistance or simply a ride. 

The crew, making sure all of the bikes were in working order. To be honest,
they needed chain lube and a few adjustments. Our cruise was early in the
season and not all systems were running like clockwork just yet. Matt is on
the right. If a surfer dude landed in the bush, he'd be Matt. Adorable. He
invited us to his house for supper. I bet his mom would have been thrilled.

More than halfway down the mountain, it occurred
to me that I could hang my good camera around my
neck and shoot one-handed. While I missed the snow-
topped, pretty peaks, I managed to capture the cute
butt that rode in front of me the whole way.  

The cute butt was attached to the cute face on the left. To his right, over
his shoulder is the Mendenhall Glacier. Like most of the glaciers in Alaska, it
is retreating, not advancing, and its front face is declining in both width and
height. All guides were reluctant to discuss "global warming," per instructions
from their employer. Don't quote me on actual numbers, but Alaska has "thousands"
 of glaciers and all but a few, like five, are retreating. 

Random spots of gorgeousness like this surprise
waterfall popped up everywhere. Forgive the cropping.
Again, I'm shooting one-handed from a moving bike. 

No words needed. 

After the bike ride and lunch, we took a tram to the top of Mt. Roberts. You
are looking at Juneau. Pretty much all of it. If you compare the size of our ship
to the city, you can see it's not that big. Juneau is the state capital and boasts
32,000 residents. It's the third largest city in the state. Geographically, the city
sits on as much land as nearly ALL of Delaware and Rhode Island combined.
Fun fact 1: There are no roads in or out of Juneau. You can only get there via
boat, plane/float plane or rail. Fun fact 2: More than 1 million tourists visit each year.

Here we are after hiking some of the trails at the park at the top of Mt Roberts.
A good day indeed.  

Exercise: 4 miles on treadmill and probably 3 miles total between Mt. Roberts and stepping around town
Food Splurge: Halibut fish and chips to die for! Chocolate croissants for breakfast! Huckleberry gummy bears. Beers at the Red Dog Saloon.
Hair Day Rating (1=worst, 10=best): In spite of a bike helmet being involved, 6.

Catch Me in Ketchikan

After a long and anxious travel day, the first night of our trip was spent finding our way to food and drink, unpacking and crashing hard.

The first full day onboard was entirely at sea and my first stop was the fitness center. I fired up a treadmill that directly faced the wake we were creating and settled in to watch mountains slip by on the starboard side.

The footing took a little getting used to ... the boat is moving, of course. I managed 4 miles and we spent the rest of the day exploring the ship.

The next morning, we landed in Ketchikan and it was characteristically raining. Ketchikan is the southeastern-most city in Alaska gets more than 12 feet of rain a year. That's FEET, people. It's like Ireland. With more rain. It's a city of 8000 people and the 6th largest in the whole state.

It was fun to be on the treadmill as we pulled into the dock. It was also surprisingly smooth. With another 4 miles in and a quick trip through the breakfast buffet, we disembarked, bought rain ponchos, took a spin through the town's historic red light district, stopped at a candy shop and then went back to the boat to find the bus to our first excursion -- sea kayaking!

I have never kayaked before. Never been in a canoe. I was sort of worried I would not be so good at it. More worried, truthfully, that when you sat in a kayak you were actually strapped in somehow and if it flipped, you could get stuck upside down underwater. Big relief when I saw this wasn't true.

We were in a bay with an island a ways out from shore and the sun poked out at just the right time. We paddled for about 2 hours, all the way around the island, stopping to marvel at the bald eagles overhead, the thousands of super bright orange and purple starfish piled in the crevices of the shoreline rocks and the most outrageously beautiful surrounding emerald green mountains.

It was a great upper body workout, too. We'd hang back from the group and explore, then paddle like hell to catch up with the rest. After rounding our last corner, we made a little game with our guide and raced back to the dock. I have been pestering Jim since we got home to go rent kayaks somewhere. It was fun! Really fun.

The whole experience was unbelievable and we have exactly one photo because I was afraid to carry our SLR camera in the dry bag and more afraid to whip out a cell phone, lest I drop it in the drink. Our guide was kind enough to snap and share this:

My life jacket rode up a bit. But I didn't care too much. After a morning of
 rain, we've got another great hair day in Alaska! I eventually donned a hat.

Exercise: 4 miles on treadmill, 1-2 miles walking about town and almost 2 hours paddling at a moderate pace
Food Splurge: Chocolate from a shop in town. Non-memorable dessert at formal dinner.
Hair Day Rating (1=worst, 10=best): 3

Action in Alaska

So, now that you know how much there is to eat in Alaska, you might as well know how many ways there are to move in Alaska.

First, a note about the ship's fitness center: 12-ish treadmills, half dozen elipticals, substantial free weights, 6 to 8 resistance machines, 2 or 3 stationary bikes. The room was located on the Lido Deck (deck 14) and at the very back of the boat. The cardio machines faced out the "back window" ... and the walls were all glass.

It opened at 6 a.m. and featured on-site trainers, though I never saw them. They taught classes throughout the cruise, as evidenced by a table in the entryway, laden with low-tech sign up sheets ... with clipboards and pencils on a strings.

I chose to be there as close to 6 a.m. as I could muster. The folks in that early posse included two women from the entertainment troupe, an Indian mom and daughter, a handful of young/fit men and another group senior men and one really old lady who rode a recumbent bike really slowly. (Not judging, just creating a parallel structure so that sentence was balanced to your ear.)

Stay tuned to find out what adventures each port of call brought!

Catch Me in Ketchikan
Jammin' in Juneau
Soaking Wet in Skagway
Glowing in Glacier Bay
Climbing in College Fjord
Making Tracks at McKinley
Deep Regret in Denali
Fun in Fairbanks

Exercise the first day? Up at 1:30 a.m., wrestled with a weather 

delay 

at 

the airport, scurried between the airline and travel agent 

to determine 

best course of action, ran through Vancouver airport, 

jumped 

on the 

gangplank 

literally 5 minutes before the ship left the dock. 

This was 

taken about 10 minutes before bed, on our balcony in the 

land of

 the 

midnight sun, after being awake for 20+ hours. 'Nuf said.

Eating Alaska

The average cruise ship passenger gains seven pounds in a week on board.

That little gem was shared by the cruise director of the Island Princess during one of his daily "talk shows" broadcast on the boat's TV network.

Seven pounds.

You've probably heard about "THE FOOD" on a cruise. I've put it in all caps because it is usually said with some emphasis. You know, like it's an event. Or the star of the show.

Before we left, I imagined tables laden with fancy fruit carvings and ice sculptures, surrounded by giant silver bowls filled with shrimp cocktail strewn about any and all public walkways on the ship. I pictured rooms stuffed with fancy chocolate towers, those glazed fruit pastries and tiered fondant-covered cakes. I assumed there'd be waiters circulating with heavy hors d'oeurves on every deck, in every lounge, in every elevator at every hour.

It wasn't quite like that.

Yes, there was an all-waking-hour buffet restaurant. Yes, you could get a slice of pizza, a burger or an ice cream cone on the Lido Deck (Yes! There really was one!) just about any time of day. Yes, the occasional reindeer chili or crab leg station could pop up mid-afternoon for an hour or so by the pool. And, yes, formal dinner was a four or five course event.

In other words, it was a lot like any "all inclusive" sort of resort.

Did we eat? Sure. We ate. More than we'd normally eat at home. But we didn't start eating at 7 a.m. and keep chewing until bedtime. There's something about food that's prepared for 2000 people at a time that starts to seem more than a little industrial. I'm just not that into it.

As such, thankfully, we didn't gain those seven pounds because we didn't go crazy. We ate sensibly at mealtimes and balanced it out with a bunch of fun, physical excursions and a ton of walking in every port of call.

There was only one thing on the ship that I ate that was truly memorable. One morning I had a chocolate croissant for breakfast. OK, I had two. So simple and so good. (It's my favorite vacation food of all time and someday, I'm going to eat it in France.)

Oddly enough, my favorite meal of the whole vacation did not come on the ship. The best meal I had was in Juneau at a restaurant called The Hangar (http://www.hangaronthewharf.net/waterfront_restaurant.html).

It was an absolutely perfect fresh halibut fish and chips, eaten seaside on a rare sunny afternoon, looking out at the mountains as the float planes took off and landed. It was enjoyed with an ice-cold Alaskan Brewing Company Stout and Jim ... a picture perfect combination.

I hope you get to experience it some day. I might even loan you Jim.

Where Do I Begin?

Alaska is HUGE. 

I don't know if you know this. It's so huge that Texas, Montana and California can fit inside of it. (Or something like that.) In fact, one of my favorite Tshirts proudly proclaimed, "Alaska -- pissing off Texas since 1959."

As such, I have HUGE stories from a truly HUGE adventure. 

And I'm going to get to all of them. Eventually. 

Right now I'm going to tell you that I'm still trying to get out from under the fog of sleeplessness, motion sickness patches, some version of whooping cough/tuberculosis/the plague that won't go away ...

You know, the vacation hangover. 

Here's a few facts and figures to whet your appetite: 

Number of miles covered in two weeks: More than 6300, via plane, train, ship, motorcoach, school bus, ATV, horse, tram and bicycle. Not to mention the miles we walked each day. 

Variety of wildlife spotted: bald eagles, moose, caribou, sea otters, whales. OK, I didn't actually see the whole whale ... just the blow hole blowing. But Jim did. I also didn't see a bear, though he did. 

Number of times we saw the infamously shy Mt. McKinley: Zero. A big, fat, wet, rainy zero ... much to my husband's chagrin. 

Number of times I read a sign in a bathroom, restaurant, random hallway that said something akin to, "To help keep everyone healthy, please wash your hands with soap. Keep your hands under the running water for at least 20 seconds." 1,476. Give or take a dozen. 

Number of times per day someone tried to get me to buy canned salmon: At least two. 

Number of cute old men named Colonel from California I met (along with his wife Bunny) and fell in love with: One.  

Talk to you later. 

Oh, and 20

We finished packing tonight for the trip. That means we loaded everything into our suitcases, measured them to make sure we are within the physical size requirements of the airlines (62 linear inches, BTW) and then had to weigh them. The big bags have to be under 50 lbs. each.

How do you weigh a suitcase? I tried to just put the suitcase on the scale. When I did, however, I couldn't read the number. So I had to do it the other way.

You know. The one where you weigh yourself first and then weigh yourself holding the suitcase and do the math.

Urgh.

My new number to think about is 20. I'm up 20 pounds from my previous normal weight.

And that sucks.

Truth? I feel it. I feel all of it. I feel it in my thighs. In my stomach. In the tightness of my clothes. In the self-consciousness of my shirt tugging.

In my boobs. (That might be the only "good" thing.)

I also feel defeated.

I no longer feel invincible. I no longer feel strong, in control and confident.

It's time to get real. Be honest. Walk the walk. Stop acting like exercise allows me to eat whatever I want, whenever I want.

I have to live the life that gets me the life I want.

Does that make sense? It's up to me.

69, 120, 300, 365ish

I've got a few important numbers to talk about.

69: In 69 hours, our ship will leave the port in Vancouver and head to Whittier, Alaska. We have our suitcases started ... the clothes are all in. Nothing but grubby underwear and non-Alaska-bound outfits for work this week. Have to run to town tomorrow night to get a few last-minute things, pack the electronics and snacks and weigh everything to make sure we're in compliance.

120: I put 120 miles on my bike last week by starting with the Trek outing. And that's a week that had two days off ... no riding on Sunday (rest day) and Wednesday (rain). I was feeling pretty good about that ... cocky even, until I heard about ...

300: That's the number of miles my cousin will cover on her bike in July during a SIX-DAY tour. She and a friend will be rolling through the north woods for 50 miles a day, six days in a row, camping each night. Holy crap! Three-hundred miles sounds almost impossible to me. And it kicks 120 in a week in the ass! I am so impressed by her! And so intrigued. So I went online last night and found a couple of similar rides, mentioned them to my girl today at our Father's Day lunch and she said she would do it with me next year! I am so excited I can hardly stand it!

365ish: Depending on which ride we pick (there are a couple in the north woods and I found one that does the coastline of Door County), I have 365ish days to train. What a great way to spend a week with your kid, right? A week of just us, hanging out, complaining about our sore butts, picking on Jim when he's not there to defend himself ... making memories. When your kid has to split time between two sets of parents, you sort of automatically only see them half as much for holidays, birthdays, and other big events. Then your kid grows up and has a job and school and a life, it's harder still to get as much time as you want one-on-one. This will be such a great thing for us and I truly cannot wait. I'm holding you to this one, Kati!

Got a number you want to share?

The Vacation Plan

Jim and I are less than a week away from the biggest vacation we've ever taken.

We're heading to Alaska for two weeks of adventure. (I'm telling you this because I trust you to not break into my house while I'm gone. The alarm will be activated and the neighbors have guns ... just sayin'.)

We'll do a week on a cruise from Vancouver to Alaska, with stops in Ketchikan, Skagway, Juneau, Glacier Bay, College Fjord. We get off the boat in Whittier and travel by train to Mount McKinley for a couple days and then move to Denali National Park for a couple more before winding up in Fairbanks.

I'm terrified of being contained in a floating all-day buffet. I'm concerned that one of the best ways to explore new surroundings is to eat your way through the experience. I'm struggling enough right now with eating too much as it is and, simply put, vacation presents a challenge.

You may remember my first vacation in my new body. (See the posts from February 2011 ... like this one: http://carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2011/02/igualito-tito.html) I was pleasantly surprised that I could maintain my new weight by making sure I got a workout in each day and by eating mindfully. It worked. I didn't gain anything.

I've since gotten pretty lax on my eating. I actually exercise more now than I did then (farther, faster). But I still worry.

So as a countermeasure, I have booked a bunch of high activity excursions. These are things designed to keep us moving and burning calories so we CAN eat our way through Alaska.

We're going to sea kayak. And bike ride. Pan for gold. Take a helicopter to a glacier. We're going to ride horses and ATVs. Plus, the ship and both resorts have exercise facilities.

I sure hope it's enough. I'm also happy smoked salmon is good for me.

Willing to bet we'll hit lots of cloudy days and not so many
bright sunny ones like this, but I'm going to hold out hope. 

The Best Rest Stop Ever

"This is the one ride that you can actually gain weight on," said Jon McGlocklin, as we lined up at the start line of the Trek 100 on Saturday morning.

And, boy, was he right!

But he failed to mention that the rest stops would be more than just food!

So, as I mentioned yesterday, JC and I skipped the first stop around Mile 9 or 10. Per my expert tour guide, it was the busiest and biggest stop on the ride which can be fun, but also congested. We chose, instead, to stop at Mile 20. By then we were both starving.

Picture this:

A lovely, quiet country road. Out of the countryside springs up a storybook cream brick two-story farmhouse with freshly painted white trim. And a porch. And a tree lined driveway with red barns and outbuildings in the back. Every single thing is perfect and well-manicured. There's a cow pasture on the left side of the driveway.

The cows were glowing. Well, they probably weren't. But in my Trek-drunk memory, they glow. In fact, I'm pretty sure they all looked like this:

Awwwwwwwww!

As we turned up the gravel drive, we could see the tents. They were right behind an enormous oak tree that looked like this: 

Can you hear the harp music? It was like heaven!

A nice man greeted all riders as they came in and dropped their bikes under the big shade tree. "Healthy snacks ahead on the right. Water, Gatorade behind that," he said, pointing to tables heavy with bananas, quartered oranges, energy bars, individual snack packs of nuts and chocolate chip cookies ... all the normal suspects. 

It looked like this: 

The big tree I spoke of is to the right of the striped tent. I ate 1.5 oranges and
swiped an energy bar to put in my bike jersey pocket for later. 

Our tour guide continued. "There's burritos over here," he said. "Beef, bean and chicken. The cows respectfully request you eat the chicken." That's right. You heard me. They had burritos. At the rest stop. Lots of 'em! 

That's JC in the center. The burritos were flippin' delicious ... we split a
chicken version. Yum! Thank you Fiesta Cancun in Oconomowoc. 

And then I hear it. 

It's a band. A live band, under yet another tent. Playing some kind of music that I can't actually identify, but I know all the coolest college kids listen to when they sit in cafes, coffee bars, brew pubs and indie venues.  

They even had a bongo drum.  Like I said, cool.

Utopia, right? Food, music, shade. I could have stayed all day and had a great time. It just could not have been more perfect. 

Or could it? 

We finally decided it was time to hit the road. I told JC I was going to use the porta potty before we pulled out. I made the walk back to the big, blue, plastic box, took a deep breath as I always do when I enter one of those things. My goal is to hold my breath the entire time, to involve as few of my senses in the experience as possible and ...

I noticed that both toilet paper rolls still had their outside wrappers on. 

I was the FIRST PERSON to use that unit!

  

Life just doesn't get any better than that. I smiled as I exited. Sad to be leaving this beautiful spot, but happy to be back on my bike and ready to finish the ride. 

Trek 100 Tribute

(Warning: I think I am falling in love with my bike ... again. And this euphoria may be affecting my general outlook.)

The Trek 100 is an epic bike ride.

The only thing I don't like about it is that it's over. Well, that, and the fact that it won't happen again for another year, which means I have a whole year to wait.

I hate waiting.

Let me set the scene: Trek HQ in little Waterloo, WI, an employee parking lot filled to the brim with volunteers, people on bikes and tents of all shapes and sizes. On the docket for the day, four rides: 100 miles, 100 meters (62 miles), 36 miles and 19 miles. The longest two had a start time of 7:30 a.m., with the second two kicking off at 9:30 a.m.

I arrived at 8 a.m. to on-site register. The deal is you have to pay your entrance fee ($55) and raise a minimum of $2/mile for whatever race you are going to do. (This is a fundraiser for the MACC Fund and next year I promise to do a better job of raising more.)

JC hard at work. 

My Lexa S bike got a quick tune-up from my brother-in-law and Trek employee Juan Carlos and his friends in the on-site bike mechanic tent. They determined that I should probably get a new shifter and cables in the next few weeks, and offered me a demo bike to ride for the day if I wanted one. I didn't. Dance with the one that brung ya, you know.

We lined up and the volunteers split us into waves. Former Milwaukee Bucks player and MACC Fund leader Jon McGlocklin got the event started with Bucky Badger. He talked about the hundreds of millions of dollars that the 25-year event has raised and introduced a rider in the crowd who had ridden all 25 years. I shed more than a few tears as a mom who lost a child to cancer spoke about what the MACC Fund had done for her family. I shed a few more when two teens, cancer survivors, told their stories.

Then the UW Band played as each wave rolled out.

There were bikes and riders of all shapes and sizes. Young and old (87!). Fit and not. Some decked out in serious bike gear. Some out for a leisurely Sunday roll.

The little girl on the right enjoyed the ride on a pull-behind. I also saw many
bike trailers with one or two kids inside. Number 2172 brought his dog. 

The ride itself was hilly and challenging enough. We rode out of Waterloo, around part of Rock Lake and into Lake Mills. We wound around on Highways 89 and S, back around the lake again, then back to Waterloo.

We rode for a while with the guy who had ridden in all 25 rides. He was 82 or 83 ... I can't remember now what he said. "I think I might be addicted," he said and smiled. "Maybe you ought to give it a couple more years to know for sure," I grinned back.

JC and I skipped the first rest station at about Mile 9. We stopped at the second one, at Mile 20. It was spectacular. I'll tell you about that tomorrow. There was another at mile 32-ish, but we didn't stop there either.

As we rounded the final stretch, volunteers lined the finish line chute, waving pompons and cowbells. Some of the 100-milers who left 2 hours before us were finishing at the same time. We'd been on the course for about 2.5 hours, which means we probably averaged 14 mph ... and they were averaging more than 22 mph. For 4.5 freaking hours!

Truthfully, I think my legs could have gone another 10 miles (if I was being chased by zombies or something), but my butt and my shoulders had had enough.

The party afterward was worth the price of admission. A huge food tent with pulled pork, chicken and a dozen other things. Capital Brewery had a tent with free beer, Starbucks and Pepsi were there. Two massage schools were representing with big tents of their own, rubbing out your sore spots. There were merch tents, bike tents, freebie tents.

Lots of tents. Music pumping. Cleats clicking. People smiling.

The whole day was so organized, so well run, so smooth. The course was fantastic, the volunteers were plentiful and helpful. The party was awesome.

I'm totally going back next year.

And I think I might ride my bike to work every day this week in preparation. Never too early to start.

You know you're in Wisconsin when the Sausages show up. 

Tomorrow We Ride ... 36 Miles

Tomorrow is the first official bike ride of the year. It's the Trek 100 http://www.trek100.org/ in Waterloo, Trek's HQ.

I'm riding with my brother-in-law and Trek employee, Juan Carlos. We had the option of 19-, 36-, 62- or 100-mile routes. Thankfully, he chose the 36-miler.

I'm pretty sure I'm not ready for anything more. In fact, I'm not sure I'm ready for 36. The 8 miles into work and 8 miles home, two times a week, is not actually "training." It's better than nothing, but it's not a sustained 16 ... which is HALF of 32.

Math. Gotta love math.

I'm going to finish. I want the jersey.

P.S. The ride is a fundraiser for the MACC Fund (Midwest Athletes Against Childhood Cancer. If you'd like to donate, there are forms on the website to do just that.

11 Tips for Summer Workout Safety

Well, I think it's safe to say that spring has officially sprung. Finally. Honestly, did you wonder if it would ever come?

I know I wasn't sure.

Now that it's here, I am amazed at how many people are out and about. It's almost like we were caged up indoors and just waiting to get out.

Oh wait ... we were.

But I'm noticing something else, too. People must be so drunk on fresh air and sunshine that they've completely forgotten how to behave in the great outdoors. In fact, I find myself yelling at them from my car  in an effort to save them from themselves. 

I know it feels good to be "free" again. But please don't forget that you have to think about what you're doing, where you're going and how you get there!

11 Tips for Summer Workout Safety
1. Walk and run AGAINST traffic. You want to see the cars coming at you,  not have them sneak up behind you. There's a group of high school kids that walk in my neighborhood three wide that drives me bananas. And I see runners on the road in a bike lane, moving with traffic. Think you can hear a car coming? You're crazy. You can't hear them coming with any reliability. Think they'll get over when they see you? Ba ha ha ha ha! 

2. Bike WITH traffic and follow the rules of the road. Stop at stop signs. Use your hand signals. Move to the middle at intersections so cars know you're intentions. Don't make them guess ... because they'll guess wrong and hit you. 

3. Make yourself SEEN. Wear fluorescent colors ... and something that flaps a little in the breeze. If I run early in the morning, I start with a long-sleeve fluorescent shirt. As I warm up, I take it off and tie it around my waist. When I ride in on my bike in the morning, I need the long sleeves on. On the way home in the afternoon, I tie it around my waist instead of tucking it in my backpack ... so there's something bright -- and moving -- to catch someone's eye. Avoid dawn and dusk. Use reflectors and lights. Be smart! 

4. Carry your phone, ID and pepper spray. Goodness willing, you never need any of it. But better to have it and not need it than vice versa. On the bike, there's your helmet, of course, and I also carry $5 and a Kleenex. Just in case. 

5. Don't go anywhere without water. Even for a short 3-mile jog. 

6. Let someone know where you are going, when you leave and when you expect to be home. Better yet, put one of those apps on your phone that allows your significant other to track your whereabouts. Sound a little paranoid? Maybe. 

7. Ride/run/walk single file on the roadway. To those of you all decked out in spandex bikewear and those long pointy helmets as if this is the Tour who ride three abreast on country roads as if you own them ... get over yourself and don't give cars a reason to hate us all. The best way to be treated with respect is to follow the rules of the road. 

8. Lead by example when you're in a car. See that bike or runner? SLOW DOWN and give them plenty of room. Show other drivers what the right way to behave is. Maybe, just maybe, they'll make a note of it and give you or someone else the same treatment when roles are reversed. 

9. Thank those drivers, walkers, runners, riders who do right by you. I always give a wave and a nod to the drivers who give me a lot of space when I'm running. I nod and say "Thank you" to the guy who makes his pitbull sit as I ride my bike past on the bike trail. I loudly and clearly say, "On your left," as I approach walkers on the trails because I don't want to startle anyone. We're all in this together and a little nice goes a long way. 

10. Wear sunscreen. 

11. Always give cars the right-of-way, even when they're wrong. In the end, they win. 

She Was Phenomenal. And You Are, Too.

The world lost a beautiful voice today. I am grateful that her words, however, will live on forever.

Phenomenal Woman ~Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies. I say, It's the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me.
I walk into a room I'm a woman Now you understand Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me.
Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them, They say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me.

Just why my head's not bowed. I don't shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing, It ought to make you proud. I say, It's in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, The palm of my hand, The need for my care. 'Cause I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me.

Views from My Walk

After my bike ride and RIPPED class on Saturday, I was a hurting unit on Sunday. As in, hobbling around the house sore. We did some butt work and it, well, worked. So instead of a nice long run, I took a nice long walk.

Walking gives me time to look at things. I thought you might like to see what I saw.

Lilacs. My favorites, along with peonies. I like to call them old

lady flowers. I love it when the scent hangs so heavy in the air

that you smell them before you see them. 

 This next group of photos are of weeds. Well, I think they're weed. Weeds or wildflowers. I'm not sure what the difference is, really. If they're pretty, I guess I don't care.

This brave little guy was all by himself in the 

grass. I admire his determination and spunk.

Yes, I KNOW these are weeds. But in the spotty sunlight, 

they seem lacy and angelic. 

These guys are out in force right now. Some a darker purple,

some lighter and some almost white. 

This is the almost white variety. 

And this is a pretty mixture of the two. With 

an unplowed field in the background. 

And then there's mailbox art. My boring Menard's special mailbox, with its chipped door and black magic marker fire number written on the front pales in comparison.  (And, I'd like to publicly say "thank you" to Mr./Ms. Letter Carrier for taking it upon yourself to write on MY mailbox ... even though the post has 2"H numbers on it and the township sign is clearly visible. Pretty sure that's vandalism, but whatever.)  

 
 

Mailbox art. I have walked, ran, biked past this

mailbox 100 times and never noticed this pretty

gal before. I think we should name her, don't you?

This is the name of the road I live on. This mailbox originally  

belonged to a member of the familiy for whom the road is named.

Sometimes it's good to slow down and take a look around.