Bleh.

Since I'm pretty convinced I have a cold (that, or I like to swab my nose with zinc for fun) and the weather has taken to sending ice from the sky, I'm stuck inside tonight. I was supposed to have a swim workout,  but was going to do my long run instead since we got sent home early from work, and running on ice with my weird strap on spike thingies is fun to me (and I was pretty sure the Hikes Point Rapist would be staying inside out of the weather). But, alas, my sore throat that I thought was from post-nasal drip from getting water up my nose yesterday morning was actually just a sign of my impending cold.

 

Tomorrow morning, I've got the longest trainer workout (2.5 hours! I will have no feeling in my nether regions!) followed by a short, short little run. I plan on watching last year's Kona race that I recorded the other day. I know, such grand plans, you must be jealous.

If you look closely, you can almost see straight down the front of my shirt in the first one. And don't I look stylish? (these were taken while I did my previous-longest trainer ride of 2 hours) These don't really do justice to the way I sweat.

Why I should always wear socks when I run

 

 

 

I knew better, but it was nice out, and I wanted to run during lunch, and I couldn't find my socks.

Gross, I know. This was at least a month ago, but I still have marks on my feet. They just add to sheer fugliness of my feet, and go well with my monkey toes.

60 miles is farther than I realized.

Yesterday, I completed my longest bike ride to date - 60 miles. It was a group ride with the Louisville Bicycle Club that left from Hogan's Fountain in Cherokee Park, wandered over to River Road, into Indiana (Jeffersonville, Sellersburg, Clarksville, and who knows where else), and then back to downtown Louisville. It was considered  "fixie-friendly" ride, so my reasoning was if a fixed gear bike could do it, so could I.

After the group start, I quickly ended up in the back with the ride captain David, who was sweeping the ride. I noticed that my front brake kept rubbing, which didn't help things. The wind seemed to be everywhere, no matter which direction we were going, but I just kept pedaling. We lost sight of the pack on River Road, but I decided not to think about that. I needed to concentrate on just getting used to being on my bike for so long.

We made it to Indiana, where we crossed railroad track after railroad track. I also got to pass my sister's old house, which used to take me about 30 minutes by car to get to. A pickup truck with some dogs in the bed scared the bejeezus out of me while going up a hill, passing really close. David also commented that I didn't shift much, instead choosing to power up the hills in whatever gear I happed to be in (apparently, this is somewhat common in runners, as we usually have pretty good quad strength). I then made a concerted effort to switch gears more.

There was a store stop at mile 30, where we caught back up to the group. I told Debi that my front brake was giving me issues, and her buddy Brian (who works at Cycler's Cafe, and has told Debi that while he is out riding, he doesn't act as a bike mechanic) whipped out a tool and tightened it for me before I could even figure out what was wrong. Thank you, Brian! This was also when I realized that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything on the ride yet. Whoops.

I managed not to be last for the next 15 or so miles - I was next-to last! I also remembered that I have 3 chain rings, and started to use the small one on hills. Between that and my brake not rubbing, the ride went much better. At mile 46, the ride captain stopped for lunch with a bunch of other riders, and I continued on with Don, who got me back to the bridge.

Ah, the bridge. By this point, the winds had really picked up, and were blowing sideways. There are also these scary joiner-things on the bridge, and it's generally best to hit them at an angle. As I was going over the first of 3, the wind blew me several feet to the side, straight towards a car. I had my handlebars in a death grip. I was having way too much trouble keeping my bike under control. I dismounted, and made the decision to walk my bike across the bridge (I ended up on the sidewalk, pedaling, but not clipped in, kind of a pedal/coast, pedal/coast sort of thing). Later, Debi told me that she also walked her bike over the bridge, so I wasn't the only dork.

After the bridge, I followed the queue sheet back to the park, and decided it was cruel for the end to be at the top of a big hill.  But, I finished, which I honestly can say I had doubts about. The night before I was pretty freakin' nervous. But, I just kept going, and quit caring that I was slow (4.5ish hours for the ride), and now I know I can go at least that far, so I should be able to survive a half-distance tri by the time mine roll around.

Welcome to Rape Alley.

Being winter and all, I'm kinda stuck doing most, if not all, of my training indoors. There's no possible way to swim outside, and since it's dark before and after I get home from work, I've been relegated to using my bike trainer (in fact, I have and hour and a half before work tomorrow. Yay, me!). Now, I know you're thinking, well, she can at least RUN outside. And normally, I would agree with you.

One thing I get great pleasure from is running outside before work. In order for me to do this, I have to be home by 6:45 am in order to get cleaned up, eat breakfast, and get to the bus stop on time. As I am one of those annoying people that can go from sound asleep to wide awake in 2.6 seconds, I used to do this a lot. I even managed to get some 9 milers in while training for my first marathon this way.

Now, it seems, those days are gone. Why? Because I apparently now live in Rape Alley.

One morning in December, a woman out exercising about 6am was attacked, dragged into a back yard, and raped. Shortly thereafter, a woman was followed into her house and raped. There have been numerous break-ins, and an attempted abduction of a 14 year old girl on her way to school. The freak responsible for this wears a hoodie and has a weird high-pitched voice, according to the media. And just last night, the freak was seen peeping into a bedroom window, but split when the lady called the cops (this would explain the ghetto-birds I heard circling last night). All this has happened within 2 miles from my house, on roads that are part of my running routes.

So, in a nutshell, I don't venture out into my neighborhood by myself. I've even stopped walking up to the bus stop, having enlisted Ben to drop me off there every morning. I keep the drapes shut at my house. And if I want to go run, Ben has to go with me(and yes, on the weekends, we go run at the park or wherever).

It just really pisses me off. I hate to feel scared like this. I just want to be able to go outside of my house (hell, he's getting braver and trying to get people in their houses) and not be afraid that someone wants to hurt me. I know it's just a matter of time before he's caught (the police are taking this very seriously, they have officers and dogs and cars and helicopters all around), but it can't coome soon enough.