INTRODUCTION

As an official one-sixth Ironman, I decided to test my mad swimming skills in the Pacific Ocean – the site of my first-ever open-water journey.

Pat and I were visiting with friends in Malibu. I figured I should try to get some exercise in before I started enjoying adult beverages (again), so I pulled on my Vibram five-fingers, shoe-horned myself into the Vortex 3, slapped on my favorite pink skull-and-crossbones swim cap and headed for the surf.

“Now, Pat, you have to watch me – you can’t just sit around and drink, you have to watch – because my Dad doesn’t like me swimming in the ocean – especially without a lifeguard.”

Yes, I realize I am a 40-year-old woman. Your parents worry too when you do stupid things like cross the Grand Canyon, race your motorcycle, jump out of an airplane twice or get a tattoo. They’re parents. It’s what they do.

My friend Candice agreed to observe from the beach, while Pat and Candice’s fiancé Mike watched from 51 steps above, on the cliff. I wasn’t sure that Pat would be able to do much for me from the cliff, but at least we would have a photographic record of my being swept away.

And here is the story of my close encounter with a sea lion, told from four perspectives…

Continue reading I, Sea Lion – Terror on the High Seas in Four Perspectives →

2,000 meters is a long-assed way to swim – especially outside the comforting lane ropes of a swimming pool, especially at the Marquee Triathlon Half-Ironman with a couple hundred real-live athletes who will swim over anything that gets in their way, and especially in the murky, 65-degree waters of Tempe Town Lake.

Yes, it was 65 degrees – and in a fascinating lesson in relativity, it was warmer in the water than it was on dry land (57 degrees). I just hand to convince myself of that fact before I took the plunge: Because what I really wanted to do was scream: IT’S 65 FREAKIN’ FREEZING DEGREES IN THE WATER! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE – OR AT LEAST WE’RE ALL GONNA PROVE THAT WE’RE ALL CERTIFIABLY CRAZY!!!

Instead, what the Hot Chicks with Douchebag Triathlon Relay proved is that we’re one-sixth Ironmen – and we really are bad asses – finishing in the Top 20 among Half-Ironman relays in 6 hours, 57 minutes, 30.98 seconds!

Continue reading One-Sixth Ironman →

… to go back into the (open) water (in my wetsuit), I asked myself four questions:

1. Why exactly did I think it was a good idea to test my newly rehabbed shoulder by swimming the relay leg for a half-Ironman triathlon?
2. In what world would sushi be optimal race-fuel for my first 1,000-meter training race in said wetsuit?
3. Why did I wait until the week before the race to test-drive the wetsuit?
4. What was I thinking when I signed up for a 90-minute yoga class two hours prior to said training race?

Exercise of course teaches us important lessons about ourselves, and the answers came during my 26-minute, 59.5-second sojourn:

Continue reading Just When I Thought It Was Safe… →