The Strength of a Weiner Dog (Memorial Day Weekend)

Every once in a while, life presents you with a series of days that renew your faith in fun. It shows you the ease of friendship and surprises you with the strength of your feelings for people. This was one of those weekends. See, lately I have been in a funk. I know the exact nature and cause of said funk and won't bore you with the details. I just know it will pass soon enough but it makes my legs dead and my motivation nonexistent. But in the meantime, I got a diversion from myself in the form of visitors.

I was planning on heading down to Salt Lake to meet my friend Cole who was flying in from Ohio. The weather was crap here and in Salt Lake so Cole decided to drive up to Jackson instead with another friend. Seeing I live in the Brady bunch house, they were both staying with me. I was beyond excited, one to have guests and two, they were boys. Hey, a girl can dream. And honestly, I am just lazy so people coming to me was so much more appealing.

I am Cole's pacer and crew for Wasatch, a job I am taking way too seriously and one which I begged to have. Currently, I am negotiating my duties with him and am hoping for complete artistic freedom to assist him in getting it done in under 30 hours. There's a lot of convincing on my part and head shaking (back and forth, not up and down) on his but thankfully, he's one of the most easy going people I know so I think I will get my way. I will study maps and elevations, learn his middle name so I can scold him like his mother would in the middle of the night. I will dispense meds, lies, encouragement and without physicially assisting him, drag his ass through the mountains if need be. The only fear being he has to drag my sorry ass instead but I will train for my pacer duties hard.

All weekend, the rain was relentless but it didn't seem to deter our fun. There was a wine tasting complete with Jackson's best decked out in bedazzled cowboy hats and sequined jeans, late nite sushi, new friends, girly drinks drank by men and cookie candles that smelled faintly of urine. Life always hopes for good stories (all true), good food and sometimes too much alcohol and it delivered. We did runs, there were climbs in the mountains and every season was experienced. My soul was fed with late night talks on wine loosened tongues. The truth comes out when the sun goes down. Anyone who has run through the night with another knows that.

So after a hearty 2nd night of 4 hours sleep, they left early Sunday morning to drive back to Salt Lake. I was left with a too quiet house and beds showing the indentations of bodies and heads of hard sleep. Often times, I find it easier to hang out with guys. There is less emotion and thought involved in the basic art of hanging out. I can say the wrong thing and get away with it easier. While I have grown in my appreciation for time spent with my gender, its fun to be one of the boys when they let you. You feel cool.

On another note, the wedding is coming up. I am feeling my sermon juices flowing again and hoping to channel one of those Southern preachers that shout Hallejah and have their perishners swaying with their heads down, eyes closed, palms facing up. But it might be a bit more serene than that.

I have changed around my race schedule too. I was talking to a friend last nite and she was mentioning Leadville, a race we were going to do together. For some reason, I have not signed up even though the entry form is sitting on my desk at work and I look at it every day. Sometimes my inaction speaks louder to me than what I actually do and what it's telling me is that I don't think I want to do it. It's too much travel, cash and nites in the back of my truck. Once I thought that out loud, it made me happy so there you go. It also frees up two races that I have wanted to do - El Vacquero Loco, a really cool low keyed ultra just down the road from me put on by Ty Draney and Speedgoat 50k in Utah. My only bitch on Speedgoat is the claim that it's the toughest 50k in the US. That's a steep claim but 10,000 feet of climbing is a good amount, there are other races with more. I just think that superlatives are being thrown around too freely these days.

I'm back...and really white

This is not a picture of me, but it felt like me. I learned really just how white I am a couple of weekends ago when I donned my running skirt for the first time since last year. I am like blue-white, so white you can see veins and so happy to let the skin breathe. You get used to 4 layers of clothes everyday that you feel jubilantly naked when you get to wear just one layer.

Tax season ended, anticlimactic as always. Glad to be done and have life back, but there's always a few days of wandering around lost with so much free time on my hands, but one adjusts. And I had made a last minute decision to do a race inFruita, Colorado on the 19th of April especially with all the training (not) that I had done this winter. So I signed up for the 50 miler, really begged my way in after registration had close.

I was running around the day I was going to leave and ran into my friend Kathleen that I did the BMT with. It took me about 15 seconds to talk her into coming with me. We decided that things like a last minute trip that you can say yes to makes being single without kids really sweet. We hit the road around 4, hoping to get to Vernal, Utah, a singular scary place to go but still about halfway there. We made it at dark after dodging deer on the descent into Vernal only to find most of the hotels booked because of their recent oil and gas boom. Finally found a room available,got in one hour of Blades of Glory and slept.

Lazily woke up the next morning and got on the road after a ginormous breakfast at Betty's Cafe (highly recommend it) complete with sides of biscuits and gravy and two kinds of breakfast meats. We made it to Fruita around noon and met our friends Kris and Julie who were also doing the race and letting us poach their campspot. They had gone for a run near the starting area, but I didn't want to ruin my streak of nonrunning days leading up to the end of tax season which was at about 8.
Fruita is unbelievably beautiful with red rocks, slick rock, amazing trails and the Colorado river flowing through. I guess it's becoming the mecca for mountain biking but I think it's a great trail running destination as well. The temp was perfect, 60-70s with a strong wind. Kris cooked us dinner of grilled cheese and soup and we hit the sack.

Race started at 6:30 and we got there at 5:30 and hung out in the car. We saw Ryan Burch who had done a couple of the same races, didn't know him just knew who he was. He put on an amazing display of sunscreen application; had to have lasted a good 35 minutes, every nook and cranny. I saw him after the race and not a bit of sunburn and I can't say the same thing. My friends Greg and Dana from Colorado were up randonly to mountain bike the same time so they greeted me at the start with a hug. I helped paced and crewed Greg at Leadville last year where he was 24th in his first 100. It was great to see them.

Race got started and Kris, Julie and I ran together for a while and then Kris had to go faster because he can and he was doing the 25 miler. We all started together but the 25 milers were doing 1 lap (which was a series of loops within the lap) and the 50 milers would do 2 laps, the second being run in the opposite direction which for someone like me (whose not always paying attention) is like running a completely different trail. I was thrilled to be outside after the long winter, stomping some dirt and also realized I was feeling damn good.

Julie and I ran the first 20 miles together and a great woman joined us, never her got her name though. I was amazed when she told us this was the longest she had run and she had MS. MS, along with Parkinson, are my feared diseases; the ones I don't want (not that you want any). I was interested in the disease and how she dealt with it and especially how she ran with it. She was so open to my questions and shared a lot of information on diet, stress and sleep that is probably good for all of us to strive for. Needless to say, that section passed quickly and she went on ahead to finish her first 25 miler in fine fashion.

I was moving well, running the flats, walking the small hills. My Achilles was quiet, the calves behaving and the stomach was bomber, of course supplemented with the required crystallized ginger that I am never without. If you have ever been offered ginger during a race, it might have been me. I am a big fan. So we get to the last aid station before the end of the 25 miles and it's a hot heinous climb out. The tough part was coming up, running back to the start, seeing your friends, your car, your flip flops, cold beer and eschewing all that saying "thank you, may I have another?".

The last 1.3 miles are on a dirt road and you can see the people heading back out. I counted up the girls ahead and thought was somewhere 6th or 7th, not that I cared just counting. I also saw my pal, Steve Boyenger from Boise, Idaho. Steve has volunteered at the top of Fred's Mountain for the Targhee races that I have done three times so it was great to see him out. I knew he was at least 2 miles ahead of me so I wouldn't be able to catch up and chat.

Dana crewed me like a champ, I hit the head hoping for glory, but no luck, it would have to happen out on the trail. She filled my bladder, scolded me for not bringing it in empty, Kris gave me gels and I headed back out, no thoughts of stopping. I did feel bad for my friends that they would have to wait 6+ hours for me, but not that bad. First lap, an even 5:30. The race has about 4000 feet of climbing per lap, I like a little bit more because I suck on flats.

Lap 2 - it's heating up and I knew I was going to get into my head sooner or later and that's not a good place to be when it's hot, you're alone, fatigued and had a ways to go, but I still felt pretty good. And get this, I run into that .01% ofultrarunners that are a-holes. I see this guy ahead thinking maybe I can run with him so I catch up with him and here's how the conversation goes:

Me: "Hey, how's it going?"
Him (ahole): "Slow"
Me: "I think you're doing pretty good"
Him: "No, slow"
Me: "Well, if you are calling yourself slow and i am running with you, then you're calling me slow too" (totally joking)
Him: "Well if shoe fits"
Me: "Well, you are gonna have to be slow alone today with your bad juju" and went by him.

So I kept going and keeping in mind I always have the arsenal to call on, which consists of little prizes or things that keep me going. My arsenal consisted of my ipod (only for truly desperate times), green apple powder for my water (I decided I could have that with 10 miles to go), and some food items that I love. I set my sights on two girls ahead of me, just keeping them in sight for far away company. Get back to the aid station I had left 12 miles ago and there's Steve there. I chatted with him and he said he was going drop. I didn't see anything wrong with him and told him that. The car was there to take him back to the start but I talked him out of it.

So we headed out walking and the 2 girls I passed right before the aid station passed us back but I didn't care, I had some company. And good company at that, Steve's the perfect race companion, equal parts funny and positive. We spent the next hour nonstop talking and walking. He caught me up on his Western States training, a few races he had done this year and his friend Sweatpants, who cracks me up. We just made it from aid station to aid station, the talking trickled but not the companionship, it makes all the difference in the world. I love being the middle/back of packer because you get to talk and meet people. I asked Kris, who had a great, fast run, if he met anyone that day and he said no one was talking, what a shame.
It was a great day and I was glad to be outside for 12 hours of it. 12:12 to be exact, we ran it in and got a few finish photos. My loyal friends were waiting for me to finish. Steve had to head home to make it back to work by 11 the next morning, so we said quick goodbyes. And me, with my keen sense of smell for the beer cooler found it, but it was stocked with NA beer, whatever, had one anyways. Julie was there and she had gallantly headed back out for lap 2 with a painful IT band and pulled at the aid station I met up with Steve, 31 miles of great running.
So here's the crackpot of it all. My longest week of running this winter was about 25 miles, longest run 18. and I felt better in this race than I ever had in an ultra. The runs I did this winter were short in length but I was pushing myself more because I had less time (think frantic running). Then, I went to aslideshow last week that Eric Orton, a local trainer, was giving about his time with the Tarahumara
Indians in Copper Canyon Mexico href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/23/fashion/thursdaystyles/23Barefoot.html">
with ScottJurek , Jenn Shelton and some writer a few years back. He thought about what made them great runners and said that they did less, more often (think bursts of speed in their ball game), no junk miles and more speed and hill work. Without knowing it, I think I had done that more out of need than intelligent choice. Now, I just need to continue to do that.

And on another completely different topic, you are know looking at newly ordained Reverend Lori Bantekas. I was ordained (online for free at http://www.themonastery.org/) with the Church of Life and for perpetuity, I can perform the following services:

Weddings,Funerals, Baptisms, Last Rites and my favorite, Exorcisms. I cannot perform circumcisions though. The website gives instructions and suggestions for each of the services along with links to purchase all the accoutrements I would need. I am considering getting the parking placard because I hear you can park anywhere with those things. The only two tenets that church asks
that I follow are: promote freedom of all religions (check) and to do that which is right (struggle everyday). I will be marrying some very good friends soon, an honor for me. And that I become a reverend in the process is cake.

Running outfit? Optional

I am getting creative in my running ways or possibly creeping ever so slightly out of touch with what's proper. Coupled with less time and an increasing freak out intensity over a race in about 80 days, I have come up with a plan to run anytime my feet hit the street. Need to walk the dog? We're running and Sophie's not happy, she's peeing like Olga, not stopping, point it to the side. No 2's are reserved for the backyard, no time.

The other day, I had to head over to the hospital for a check on my skin cancer removal site (boring crap) and I put on my shoes and ran over there, wasn't that far. I saw one of my clients in the same office and he said "were you just running down the street?", I said "yeah" and he looked me up and down at my outfit (not a running outfit). I have also been seen running in myUggs and pajama bottoms, jeans, chinos, etc. Uggs are really not that bad to run in, cozy and warm, socks optional. I can go a good couple of miles in them comfortably.

Yesterday,I found myself running (twice) in my pajamas, undergarments be damned.
They were the same pajamas that I wore to work (it was Saturday). All you need is shoes and (in Wyoming) a down coat. This winter I have forgone a jog bra. Anyone who knows me realizes that it's optional for me to wear one so that went out the window. I am gonna save a bundle not having to buy those torture devices anymore. It's incredibly freeing, quicker to get dressed but you can't be Pamela Anderson, then
its not fun.

And when I run in these spurts of time I have, it's like a bat out of hell. I am running, not jogging, not ultrashuffling. I am getting my money's worth and I come back to the office sweaty and out of breath, snot running. And it's the running that takes me back to being a kid, you never jogged when you were kid, at least I didn't.
Energy wasn't this finite thing like it is now. I was possibly being chased, possibly by things you didn't see or that didn't exist except in your 7 year old mind. Remember scaring the hell out of yourself walking home from a friend's house and by the time you reached the front step at mach 4, you were convinced that you just barely outran thebogeyman (which in my head at that time was Wolfman Jack, that dude scared me).

Shower you ask? No thanks. I have regressed a bit in my showering habits as well. In reality, I have never really liked showers, requires effort to stand up. I'd rather lay down so I am a bath person. After long runs, everyone wants to shower, be clean whatever. I would rather eat first.

I have just realized that I have morphed into a 12 year old boy.

I guess care a lot less about certain things than I used to and care a lot more about certain intangibles. Not going to name them, this isn't a motivational piece and everyone has their own. But I think winter can strip us down or at least remind us to stay vigilant. It can remind us of what we need to thrive or sometimes just survive by the sheer lack of it (and it's not ajog bra or a shower). When winter lasts a good six months and the sky has been dirty white for 2 weeks straight, it really comes down to surviving or resisting crazy within the isolation of it. I have always said that I wished I could have been a cave woman; I think I would have excelled at gathering.

I think that's why I like running, esp ultras. They come down to those basics - breathing, eating and moving. Not competition or expectations but merely
surviving. And I look forward to surviving all summer and fall.

I touch poo

As the title implies, my life is glamorous. As in previous rants, most people know that I work a lot this time of year. It's after 8 and I am still at work here and got here around 7-something this morning. It's not recommended, it makes you fat and unhappy and my back hurts. But I got up at 5:15 this morning and did my 4 miler, happily.

So my story, first, my preface - I have never promised anyone that my blog would be anything serious or dedicated to one topic, like running. It's not really going to detail my training program because it's nothing that someone wants to duplicate. It would go something like this - no run, drink beer, no run, eat brownies, 4 milers, 18 miler, real sore. The reality of my blog is I don't have Word at home so the Internet saves my stories for me.

Anyways, I had to run home last week to let the dog out for some runaround fun. Sophie has a new fun habit (fun for her only) in that she likes to climb the fence now that the snow line has moved her within a couple of feet of getting over it. She goes into the neighbors yard and eats deer poo over there (not the poo I am talking about). She gets in big trouble for doing this and I am sure the neighbors are thrilled with my screaming at her and her dramatic interpretation of the coat hanger scene in Mommy Dearest. She starts to howl before I get to her, all, my mom beats me.

So after I get her back over the fence, I decide that seeing the snow is starting to melt, that I should herd some turds. I am all about multi-tasking when i need to. And really it was a total landmine out there and for weeks, I would be happy with it snowed and covered the last layer of Sophie's outings. But now, we were at ground level for part of the yard and it was undeniable. So, out there in my professional garb, I scooped and shoveled, part snow, part poo. The bag filled and I started flicking them towards the compost pile, not making most of them over to it.

So with a full bag, I start to head in. I should explain my stair system during the winter. With the melting and dripping of late winter, coupled with my not being an obsessive shoveler (like my neighbor) my perfectly good 4 stairs from the outside to the house turns into a luge halfpipe, gleaming with water. Sophie literally steps out and slides down, but seeing she is 1/4 Scoobie, it's in her blood to do that.

I was headed up the stairs, in my work shoes (think banana peels), holding the bag of poo. First step, good, second still solid, third, it all goes to hell, I start going backwards, there's some windmilling of the arms and I reach out to put my hand on the ground but the bag. My hand goes solidly on the ground but only by way of poo (grocery bag, not ziploc size).

I still have to throw the bag away, what to do - wash my hands or throw the bag away. I am down on the ground thinking about this and clearly, to Sophie, this looks like an invitation to play. She gets the bag away from me and starts pulling around the yard. Mommy Dearest visits again and I get the bag away from her and throw it away before washing up.

I head back to work and have a couple of meetings carefully eyeing my clients to see if they are sniffing and then wrinkling up their nose but trying to be polite in doing it. I didn't see it, but then again, I would just blamed the dog.

4 Miles of Fun

I am a CPA, so that means long hours this time of the year. I work every day from February 1st on, that means Sundays too about 70+ hours a week. I work with my eye on the prize, April 15th and the melting of the snow. They usually come around the same time.

I often have pangs of jealousy reading about other's long runs or race reports because I am relegated to the 4 milers. And the scary things is I am going to run 100 miler in June, based on a series of 4 milers, that's right, that's the training plan. Jealous?

4 milers are done in frantic fashion starting with changing clothes here at the office and pretty much putting on whatever I can find. Might be smelly, might not be mine but I am wearing it. Then I drive like a madman to the trailhead (god forbid I run on the roads). We hit the parking lot and darnit! people I know are there. They have a whole hour maybe more for lunch. And really, is there any polite way to say "I would love to talk to you but my 4 miler is more important than you talking to me", no I guess not.

I definitely find that my pace is quicker and I end up sputtering up the first hill realizing that I am not in shape. But who cares? It's sunny and blue skies and the snow is hard packed with a skiff of powder for traction. Sophie is playing with every dog we pass and there was about 22 dogs today. It's a good day and for 40 minutes, I am not thinking about like kind exchanges, partnership returns or how I am going to get it all done.

I was reading Trailrunner last nite and came across the article about meditation during exercise. They talked to Darcy Africa (possibly the best ultrarunning name) and she meditates before races and uses meditation during races. It was a good read and I tried some of the techniques of focusing on breathing and your foot strikes as opposed to what you would really like to say to your boss. It worked, off and on, when I remembered to focus. Meditation has been an ongoing challenge of mine for years. I read Eat, Pray, Live recently and while I thought the book overall was sanctimonious crap, I did think she took some interesting ideas from others. So it's was all a continuation of a theme.

I also was lucky enough to encounter a chatterbox on the trail, someone that any other time of the year, I would chat with. I had run into this fellow before, on Valentines day of all days and he went on about the virtues of his unneutered lab. Sophie thought this dog was better than reese's peanut butter cups so I wasn't getting away anytime soon. And who knew how much there was to know about unneutered male dogs? So I run into him again today but I am on my 4 miler so it was head down, quick hi and pointing to my ears where I realized there were no headphones in (busted). But on the way back, I was treated to something extra special because he had taken his shirt off. We live in Wyoming, no one takes their shirt off until August at the earliest, he must not have gotten the memo.

I even got in a fartlek at the end, felt like I was flying. My feet were digging in and then floating, my arms were pure propulsion and it felt good. That is until the coughing fit hit me like some bad smoker or someone getting over that bronchial crap that's going around.

Got back to the office with an attitude adjustment and things seemed a little better, thanks to the 4 miler.

Boulder Mountain Tour

Dancing helps work out the lactic acid buildup. I learn that tasty little fact as we danced the night away at Whiskey Jacques post race in Sun Valley. Granted we are all white women and my clapping and moving is more of an "at my convenience" as opposed to something regulated by the drumbeat. But with that said, no one had a better time than us that nite.

But the race, first the drive. Wake up Friday morning and every road in and out of Jackson, all the way to Sun Valley is closed. That's just life in the mountainous west, can't do anything about it but have another cup of coffee and in my case, vacuum my house (rare event). Finally Teton Pass opened, so we loaded, got the requisite bagel, more coffee and hit it. We got about an hour and a half into our drive and got held up again, this time in Swan Valley, Idaho. People were trying to go every direction - North to Bozeman, West to Sun Valley. We waited about 30-40 minutes before that road opened. It was greasy but drivable with some white out section that are almost vertigo inducing. We found this to be the scenario for the entire drive. Someone said a road was closed, you called Idaho DOT and they say it's opened, the flashing sign says closed but if you ignore the sign, you could make it. I guess in Idaho barriers mean road closed.

After a 7 1/2 hour drive that usually takes 4, we got there with 30 minutes to spare for packet pick up. Nordic skiing has no drop bags, unless you are elite then you have a team. We got our duffle and found no hat, what?! $90 registration and i get a crappy duffle, I have 4 already. Trying not to be bitter, we exchanged scary road stories with others and headed to Amy's family's house just a bit outside of town. On the way out from check in, I see "no poles" but this time, he's gonna using poles and I'm real scared. Mark said the only other time he did this race, he did it in 3 hours, sweet, I think, I have never gone over 2:05. But that was 2002 and he seemed way faster than that, so I told him to pass me kindly. I also started to think he was kinda hot.

In my vacuuming excitement at home, I had failed to empty the fridge of everything I needed for the trip and left the 65 meatballs I had made for Friday's dinner at home, so we did chicken instead and if anyone wants meatballs, let me know. I had my prerequisite beer before race day just to keep it real. Everyone stretched but I kinda "faked stretched" because my hip was killing me from not stretching enough. Wake up wasn't too early although it felt early because I only had 4 hours sleep from the nite before (reference 1:30am tirade on active.com post before this one). We grabbed one of the earlier buses because one of our girls was in the elite wave, which is almost like having a friend that's famous.

The bus takes you up to Galena Lodge where the race starts about a 40 minute bus ride. They say it's a downhill race but anyone who has heard that expression and then done the course knows that there is really no course that's all downhill, same with this one. It's got some hills especially in the first 10k and it's also got some scary, screaming downhills with sweet turns at the end of those scary, screaming downhills. And if you know me, you know my alpine turns don't exist. Everyone talks about the uphills and how they don't like them, not me. I love uphills compared to the downhills. The worst downhill is supersteep followed by a dog leg right and then if that's not enough, you come flying out of that turn (usually windmilling on one ski) and there's a road crossing where about 50 people can watch you go down in a blaze of glory.

It was cold during the warm up, the sun hadn't come out and we were wondering if we would see it. We were hoping we would seeing our skis were waxed warmer than the current weather, evidenced by the fact that they were having a hard time gliding. We watched the elite go off. I took a picture of the skis that the racers put in the track as the elite have set places to start.So funny to think that their outcomes can be influenced by a couple of feet in their starting position. There were 9 waves all together and I was in wave 6. I had been clawing my way up to this wave for years and felt it was perfect for my speed. These were my people, wave 6 people. No poles was wave 9, so I started with 6 minutes on him.

Kathleen and I were in the same wave and it was really nice to see her right before we started because that would be the last time I saw Kathleen.She went out fast and stayed fast and was third in our wave, first lady. Way to represent. I started out in the middle of the pack, big mistake heading into the hills. People are either good climbers or they just lose it on the hill and you never know who you are behind. There are usually two lines for the climbs and you kinda put your blinker on and try to go around the people flaying. I am happy to report that I did not go down once during the 2008 BMT and that, my friends, is a first. With that said, when I looked down at my watch with 12k to go and it said 1:29, I knew it was going to be a slow race.

The humiliation came at the aid station with about 10k to go when I had stopped for some gross warm heed because my camelbak froze up in the first 5 minutes of the race and now all I was doing was carrying luggage. So I am drinking my heed, trying not to poke out my eyes with ski poles and what do I hear behind me but "Hi, Lori". It sounded fast like when a train goes past you and the sound makes you whip your head around. No poles had not only caught me with at least 10k to go but he was possessed with speed. "Go get him" the girls shouted from the aid station and I took off! The energy was short lived and I lost him even though was wearing his "seen from space" tights.

The last 10k was in the flats which can be incredibly pleasant on a sunny windless day or like this year's plagued with a wind that blows in your face from both directions and needle snow. Wouldn't have it any other way. I had been skiing with a very efficient woman for about 30k, we never spoke during the race but worked well together back and forth. I love forging partnerships like that during a race. I thought I had lost her about halfway but she had tucked in behind me, which made me feel better as I felt as though I was drafting off her in the first part of the race. I spoke to her after the race and she felt the same way. We looked forward to seeing each other next year.

We both tried to pass a remarkably strong but inefficient skater but this woman wasn't having it. You know these people, hate to be passed and you can see it in their eyes when you say "great job" as you go past them. They are sticking pins in your voodoo doll and they would rather die than not pass you back, and that's fine. What's not fine is to pass and then take up the whole course, which is what pink shirt did. She was so in the middle and so I did something I never do. I just tucked in behind her and in the last 100 meters where the course opens up, I just went out and around her. I had to. I also remembered to check for frosty chin whiskers before the finish.

Anyways, finished up and my friends were ready to catch the bus back. I needed some hot soup first. I looked around for no poles to give him a line up of tonite's plans in case he wanted to join us. I already had the skinny he likes to dance, a rarity. Couldn't find him so we boarded. The drive back doesn't take nearly as long as the ride there because we had skied 20 miles of the distance down. We got back and showered and did the obligatory Sun Valley shopping, ie just looking. We got back to the house around 6 and hung out until our sushi reservations at 8.

We ate sushi and hit the bars. First to the Cellar, a little downstair club that wasn't really happening but we did our best. I talked to capeman
, who is a zz top type guy who wears a silkweight 1970s race suit with a handmade cape. I asked him about the ice dam that was his beard during the race but his biggest problem was that the zipper to his suit froze to his skin, whaaaa. We then went to Whiskey Jacques where there was a good band playing and we danced the rest of the nite.

The drive back was just as white knuckling at the ride there. But we all got home safe and sound. I then was lucky enough to come down with one of the nastiest viruses to hit me in a number of years. So I am out of commission and therefore, don't have to do the local skate race this weekend. That's a relief, there's only so much nordic dorking I can do. It's almost time for running season again.

Sorry: Online registration is not yet open for this event. Online registration will be available on Friday, February 1, 2008 12:59 AM Pacific Time.

All I have to say is Active.com sucks. I never depend on them to get it right. Either they open up registration early or late, not really on time much. I can just picture a woman sitting behind an old wooden desk watching a fuzzy old tv with rabbit ears and tinfoil. She might also be talking on the phone and all the sudden she interrupts her converstaion, "hold on, Madge, I gotta do something" and hits a button, looks at the time, shrugs and goes back to her conversation. Meanwhile, a bunch of running geeks all across the country are sitting at their computers playing endless games of solitaire while hitting refresh on their active.com website waiting to be let in. We look at the time and mentally push the alarm back as late as we can.

Surely there is some computer person that loves running that wants to work their magic on the internet for a better system. One that doesn't crash and finds the race you are looking for (no luck searching for bighorn). One that welcomes Mozilla. There is money to be made here, how much have you given? I am not feeling the love back, that's for sure.

NOTE: I wrote the above at 1:30 in the morning (obviously a little frustrated) waiting for registration to open. What I didn't do was calculate the time zones correctly. I stupidly assumed that registration would open at 12 midnite MST (where the race is) but it said it would open at 12:59am PST which, for all you math wizards out there, is 1:59am MST.