Happy Friggen April

Alaskans know snow. We expect it and most of the time, even like it. Yet when spring finally arrives, lets face it - we are READY.

Last night I returned from an overnight field trip to the Kenai Challenger with fifty 6th graders. The weather couldn't have been more gorgeous. Sunglasses and t-shirts. The drive through Turnagain Pass is one of the most spectacular trips in this area. In early spring we're able to witness the gradual progression from newly formed greenery to the impressive 10 foot snow packs of the pass. I am not a very religious person, but Turnagain Pass makes me think again.

On our return to Anchorage, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the solar rays had taken care of the last remnants of snow in our neighborhood. True, the grass would need a good raking to regain its rich green hue, but the end of winter had arrived.

Fast forward 12 hours. The garage door opens and a white flurry of delicate flakes swirls around my feet. WTF???!!! Not to worry, I think, it appears to be melting as fast as it falls. Really nothing more than glorified sleet.

Fast forward another 9 hours. Students have gone, my classroom has survived an unexpected indoor recess and my car is completely encased in an 8 inch layer of heavy precipitation. I hoof it out to the parking lot in my defiantly spring-like Airwalk clogs. Sorrels? Nope, those were tossed into the abyss of the crawl space weeks ago. Ice scraper? Haven't seen it weeks. Snow brush? It was in the way when I was loading the road bike for a race last weekend.

I brush off the driver's side door with my sleeve, and jump in. I roll the windows half-way down and back up again, a well known trick for knocking off loosely clinging snow. I flip on the rear wipers and watch snow fly back and forth until the back window is clear. I flip on the front wipers. Nothing. I try again. Still, nothing. Damn, this snow is heavy. I jump back out of the vehicle, wet snow drenching my socks through the holes in my clogs. I "arm-sweep" as much of the snow as I can off the hood, but the Hyundai is quite a bit taller than the old Subi. After some impromptu aerobatics I manage to remove enough snow from the windshield to get the wipers going ... that is until I get half way down the block and the entire roof avalanches down the front of the car requiring me to pull over and reenact the aerobatic performance.

Anyhow, I made it home and released a very excited pooch from her domestic prison. She quickly does her best to remind me that snow is not so bad by rolling and rooting in beautiful white carpet that had become our drive way. And you know, she has a point. Spring will get here when it's good and ready. Until then, there is still time for a few more snow angels.

37:50:00 Moose Run Time Trial

This whole biking thing is spinning out of my control, and I'm just along for the ride. What started out as a way to get my rear end out of the classroom and into the gym, has morphed into an obsession that seems to have taken on a life of it's own.

OK. So I'm exaggerating. Again. But, really, this whole experience is evolving day to day, and along with it my aspirations.

I never thought I'd start racing. In fact, I explicitly told my LBS salesman that I was NOT planning to do time trials. Well, what do I know.

Today I raced my first TT. I finished middle of the pack in the beginner women division. 37:50:00 for the 10 mile sprint. Pretty flat, a few meandering hills. My goals for the race were simply to finish without crashing. I did that. I feel good about my finish. I was passed by a few people, and passed a few myself. I monitored my HR and kept an eye on my RPM. I kept my cadence above 90, dropping off gears as needed. I see now where increased work will allow me to work at higher gears without lowering my RPM. My legs were very fatigued the last few miles. More riding should help with that.

Anyhow. Nothing witty to share today. I'm just feeling good to have this first race of the year under my belt.

Swine Suits

Last Sunday I was feeling good. After being beaten into miserable submission in our first 3 hockey games, we finally pulled out an unexpected win. I managed to escort two wayward pucks into the back of the net. It's been a dry year for me scoring wise, and it felt good. After the game I sat up in the bar, sipping Accelerade, fictionalizing the game with my teammates. I was exhausted, but my body felt fit and lean, toxins purged, lungs refreshed.

On the way home I decided to treat my new fit body to a trip to Sports Authority. I deserved a new swimming suit. I had worked hard and was starting to see the results. I wanted a suit with sleek lines, thin straps and dolphin like slipperiness. I plucked a few from the shelf. They looked fast. I smugly headed to the fitting room with more than the 3 items allowed.

The room was dimly lit by fluorescent lighting approximately 800 feet overhead. I stripped down and began pulling on the first suit. The sleek lines that caught my eye on the shelf twisted into grotesque curves which the designer could never have predicted. I peeled the offending item off with disgust and tried another. Skin squirted out here and there, accentuated by the shadows caused by the ridiculously high lighting. Slowly, I began to feel myself getting fatter by the minute. I wadded all the polyester into a messy ball and stomped out of the fitting room. I forced myself to hang each and every skinny suit back on the shelf with it's snickering cousins.

I headed for the racks of sweatpants. You know... the thick, grey kind we all used to have before sweating became so glamorous. I wanted the exact same pair of sweats pants Rocky Balboa wore as he flew up those steps. But what did I find? Flared, cutesy, mid-calf jobs they dared to call sweats. Come on. No one ever really sweats in those do they? I'm pretty sure they were explicitly designed for 19 year old pilates students to wear while ordering a fat-free mocha latte.

Anyhow, all I ended up buying was some Cliff Shot block energy gummies. Cause ya know... those are one size fits all.