Trak me on race day! #fb

Want to Trak my race progress for tomorrow’s HalfRev?

Visit the Trakkers website here and click on the Watch Live link next to the REV3 QUASSY HALF race. Then, click on my name and any of my Trakkers teammates that you’d like to follow (you can trak up to 10 of us!) and watch the blinky-green-lights go!!!

The race tomorrow is a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run. The bike and run are hilly, and I am excited.

What’s wrong with this picture?

My guess is the driver didn’t have a case of the Taper.

I have been reading a lot of blogs about “my A race is approaching, its time for taper, OMG WTF! ROFLCOPTER!” and I am not sure what the big deal is. I personally like tapering. I put in the training, it was hard; Now I get to bank on the fact that, no matter what I did for training, there’s nothing I can do now in that department to make me race any faster.

At this point, do I want to go for a long run? Not really.

Do I want to ride up Brockway four times until I puke? Not particularly.

Would I rather be doing a 120 mile road ride this weekend, followed by a 5K tempo run off the bike? Um, gonna have to pass.

I’d rather be splish-splashing during an open water swim than putting my head down and heading for the dock that is a mile away. I’d rather be cruising nice-and-easy on my bike with my cadence up than hammering out hill after hill until my quads burn like battery acid.

I want to race. The race is the reward for all that hard work. I want to take all this stored energy that has been filling up my legs for the last week, and put it toward something fun. I want to compete, get in the zone. I don’t want to run for 4 hours and think about all the stressful things that are popping up in my life. I just want to focus on something that I love to do.

And in all honesty- sometimes, I really enjoy just sitting around and not doing a damned thing. Call me lazy, I don’t care. I feel like a kid who grew up without TV, standing in the electronics dept of Walmart, just staring at the moving pictures on the flat screens. I zone out, and sometimes, that is absolutely what I need.

So my feet have been up, my diet has been EXTRA-safe, and I’m enjoying reading a book for once (and it’s a real book, not a sciency-book; well, I guess it is as real of a book that the Sookie Stackhouse vampire saga can be). Of course, I am not eating as much as I do when my training blocks are building up, but I’m not as hungry. And at this point I would rather sleep in until 8 than get up at 6am for several thousand yards in the pool.

Maybe I am the crazy one?

Megan meets New England

This morning started early, with an alarm clock buzzing at 4:15am, not that I wasn’t already awake on and off the whole night. Nerves? Probably. Excitement? Most definitely. After trying quietly to eat cereal, with no avail, and then heading back to Houghton to grab the Rev3 Quassy athlete guide, directions, and receipts for my plane ticket and rental car, I nudged Baberaham to the car (or rather, he muled my Big-Ass-Bag to the car while I brushed my teeth) and we were off to CMX.

The flights were uneventful. O’Hare is not all its cracked up to be, if its cracked up to be anything, but the shuttle services via bus outside from terminal B to terminal C were frequent and I didn’t feel any anxiety during my 30 minute layover. The longer flight to Bradley was even less eventful, and I tried to snag a row of empty seats but my stomach only handled the turbulance in the back of the flying bus for about ten minutes. Arriving in Windsor Locks, I found out (via paging from the United baggage rep) that my checked item didn’t make it with me on the same flight. It was going to get placed on the next one, though. So I decided to cruise around Windsor Locks and grab a bite to eat, but it was hard to find anywhere good so I settled on a deli in an industrial area where I was the only woman that wasn’t working (and the place was packed). Made me feel like I was back at Tech…

Anyway, I called the United rep and she notified me that the bag was placed on the next flight to Bradley from Chicago but that it was delayed, and the estimated time of arrival went from 1:30 to nearly 3pm. I decided to let the delivery guy handle it and rolled onward to get my rental car and head to the Burys to get my bike (Middlebury) and check into my hotel (Woodbury). Luckily, these were tucked in the magical shoe-hole of my Saucony messenger bag:

The bike was ready to go when I got there, and apparently it had been the first to arrive for the weekend. SWEET. Yay for FedEx, and keeping it moving all weekend. And holy wah, does Bicycle Works in Middlebury rock. They not only assembled my bike but gave it a tune up and plan to ship it back for me. That means they’ll just let me drop it off on Sunday after the race (since they are open special post-race hours on Sunday, when they are normally closed) and I can just fah-gedda-bot-it.  It probably, financially, didn’t save me a whole heckuva lot of money to ship it, but it quite possibly saved me a bunch of stress. Can you imagine if my bike AND my checked bag hadn’t been here when I got here? I might be more on panic mode (even though my bike shoes are in the bag that is MIA).

So I left Bicycle Works and not more than a mile down the road, it started to rain. Ok, it wasn’t really rain. It was more like big blobs of water pattering my windscreen. But then the periodic fall of blobs turned into a torrential downpour, and I had a hard time seeing the center line. I don’t know why, but it made me smile. No, it made me giddy. MAN, how cool would this be if I were biking right now? Can you hydroplane on a time-trial bike? Can you see if its raining so hard and you have sunglasses on? I couldn’t help but think of how panicked other racers might get if it started to rain like that, and how many hands would be on the brakes. I’m not saying I wouldn’t be on the brakes… but there’s something about Racer-Meg that just zones in and stops whining and nixes any and all Sally-speak. So I thought that, if it does rain, I’d be totally alright with it. Especially since torrential downpours usually last about ten to fifteen minutes, or five miles, whichever you prefer.

The Curtis House Inn is pretty rad, and reminds me of that cozy-New-England hotel I’ve seen on TV shows like Rescue Me. It’s totally old fashioned, and the room I’m in has a sink – and I have a communal bathroom. The floor is wood, the beds have canopies, and the wall paper is different in every room. Since the room I reserved (with a king sized bed) was all messy – I know this because the rooms that are not occupied are left with their doors open so that the air can flow through the building – I went with a two-twin-bed room, which in hindsight is probably better anyway. I pick up my friend, Jenn, tomorrow from the trian station in New Haven, and she’s also bringing her bike. We are going to have a cozy and fun time !

Anyway, now I am just sitting in the Curtis House Inn, waiting for my B.A.B. to arrive so I can run. Otherwise I will be running in this: