Drunk...Drunk...Goose

Thank god for recovery days!


I didn't feel today as though I physically needed to recover, but it's an indulgence to spend some time taking care of home basics.

Since last I wrote, I've had one good OWS in the quarry in Verona, and a couple of good pool swims, though I haven't been in the pool now for several days. The swim in the quarry was especially sweet because friends joined me there, and I had a personal swim escort in the daughter of a friend---she's a college swimmer and very easy-going; knows I've been having OWS issues, and just came along as a comforting presence. She swims so gracefully that it was relaxing to swim with her. It took me a long time to warm up and to relax, but once I did, the swim went well. So: I can swim in a wetsuit w/o having a respiratory issue; now the question is whether I can swim in Wingra and/or Monona w/o it, or whether I'm allergic to something there.

I've also been attending to the bureaucratic details of IM preparations...two more bike fittings, more rounds of visits to various docs, experts, consults, etc. If I could put as much time into training as I do into talking about training, I might see some progress.

This weekend, I went on a beautiful 25 miler that was supposed to be followed by a run. Somewhere in the last four miles of the ride, I felt a sudden sharp stabbing pain in my thigh, as though a very sharp thorn had impaled me. Would that it were so. I still don't know the true identity of the little bugger who got me, but when we collided, it wasn't good for either of us. Friend Monica, my ride companion, put up with me neurotically monitoring myself all the way home for signs of anaphylaxis. I did have a local reaction to the poison, but the neurotic panic was definitely greater. In some ways, it may have been a good thing---this kind of incident is on my list of Top 5 Things That Can Turn A good Bike Ride Bad so to have it happen and not result in a fatality is somewhat reassuring. It did bring me, however, to pan my run that evening.

Sunday, I did two loops of the IM course, per special instructions of The Coach after a consult on Friday. Friend Judy met me for this adventure, thank heavens, which made it a lot easier to get it under way. It was a beautiful day for riding. First loop went well; second loop was harder (gee!). We gave ourselves the liberty of several leisurely stops, so it became a long day. My pace is perhaps just enough to get to T2 by the cut-off. I had hoped for better this year, and will remain hopeful that there are still gains to be made. The hills the second time through were more challenging than the first; on Timber Lane, all I could do was put my head down, shift into the easiest gear, and count my breaths until I discovered the grade give way; on Midtown, I was see-sawing my way up to the top. Still, after that, I felt strong and happy, and arrived at Verona again feeling fine.

I was amused by how my diet went out the window on this training ride. I ran into my bike fitter and my running teacher, who are buddies, and who both live to bike, at the Kwik Trip in Mt. Horeb the first time through. They both had chocolate chip cookies in their hands. "Hey, is that your fueling strategy?" I asked. You betcha. Hey, I'm no fool. So, a Kwik Trip cookie it was for me too at each of the little towns on the second pass of the loop. Throughout the course of the day, there was also: a banana, three or four gulps of hammer gel, a scone at the Cross Plains bike store, a salted nut roll, a few gulps of perpetuum (ech.), some peanut butter pretzels, some ham (yes, two decades of vegetarianism are currently out the window!), and a handful of gorp. The Garmin says I burned maybe 5500 calories; I think all of this stuff didn't actually balance the scales, though I wasn't hungry at the end of the ride. Stopped at the local grocery and got a protein smoothie cause that's what you're supposed to do; drink half of it because the whole thing is 450 calories, and that became dinner because of what happened next.

I felt mighty fine after this ride, so decided to do the run I had missed the day before. Came home, did some transition stuff, and headed down to the bike path around Lake Monona for the run. As I was doing a walking warm-up, I came across a goose who appeared to be very sick and/or dying. Thinking that the police could have animal control transport her to the Emergency Clinic for Animals, I called them; they told me I was the third call, and that someone was on their way and would be there in half an hour. As I was finishing this conversation, two women approached---they had already called and were wondering what was happening. They were international visitors here to hear the Dalai Lama---good Buddhists with lots of compassion for our poor friend, who now was coming around a bit and munching hungrily at the grass. Every once in awhile, she wowuld try to move, and would stumble, fall, roll, lurch, and get still again. I wasn't certain whether she was poisoned or injured or otherwise sick. I did notice that she didn't seem to roll just one way or another, so the problem seemed less and less like a foot injury. This observation, conversation, and phone research with the police and three other entities went on for at least an hour, after which the police said that animal control would come in the morning...definitely unacceptable to me and the Buddhists, given that this creature could flop into the path of either a car or a cyclist at any moment. More conversations ensued--including devising a plan by which I would drive Maria, the Columbian, to the emergency vet with the goose wrapped in a blanket---as the goose became more animated and began to stagger around a bit more. She was heading toward the lake and making hard-won progress when a police officer arrived. It's Madison, so the guy has an undergrad degree in aquatic ecology. He studies the goose, taking a tenuous step or two and then falling down on her face, and offers the opinion that the goose is...well...drunk. And somehow this analysis seems to fit---for me, and for the two Buddhists, who have been keeping an eye on the bird for three or four of their precious hours of vacation. As she makes it past the mucky edge of the water, into which she goes face down momentarily, and gets into water deep enough that allows her to swim, the goose appears to do better. By now, the city calls and says they think a volunteer can come and get the goose. I tell them she's water-borne now and likely that's good because she'd have to be cited for under-age drinking if she came back around. We all feel somewhat relieved that the bird is swimming, and by the idea that it's "just" alcohol that's causing the problem. The party breaks up.

It's nine o'clock. I have been playing "drunk, drunk, goose" for an hour and a half...and I have enjoyed it. IM training teaches you ever more who you are, and it was clear to me last night that I am not the kind of person who will ignore a dying duck because I have to get my run in---and I don't want to be. I did do my run, but for only an hour. I felt fine, though I would have liked to say I ran 1.5 hours. I told my coach about this today and he laughed and said, "let's hope there aren't any drunk geese on IM Day." Right: or other cyclists with issues or kittens up trees, or spectators from out-of-town who need directions cause I am just the kind of Type C athlete who will attend to these issues the Type A athletes just ride on by.