The Big O-N-E!

After years of celebrating monthiversaries, starting with date-a-versary months, a date-a-versary, then full-on monthiversaries, it has finally come.

Sunday will be coachubby's and my first anniversary!

My goodness, we've come so far. About 335 more days than most LA-based couples, according to our 2 biggest and most reliable news sources: PerezHilton.com, and the National Enquirer.

A mutual love of the outdoors and pain, combined with chronic verbal diahrreah (everything that's on our minds comes out sometime, and can't be held in for long), and mutual respect are to credit for this fantabulous achievement.

So is coachubby's rockin' bod, which will make its 2009 debut at Oceanside in a week. Race wear is highly classified, but I've received an anonymous tip from a highly reliable source to look for the ripped skinny dude with a mullet, speedo, and perhaps a hot orange top.

Just sayin'.

See you out there!

3 Tips for Male Triathletes Who Loose Wedding Rings

How long, on average, does a man usually keep his original wedding ring before it vanishes before his eyes, swallowed by a large body of water, or nabbed by hospital custodian?

If he's a triathlete, the probability that he will loose his wedding ring soars above that of an average dude. And considering all of the miles the triathlete covers in a single week, when he looses the ring, the probability of finding it hovers around zilch.

Coachubby made it almost to the 6-month mark before his wedding band was claimed by a murky, muddy lake. After an hour of sticking our faces into clear bowls to look at the bottom of a sandbar, the ring was pronounced dead at approximately 2pm, September 21st.

So what can you do to avoid (or lessen the impact of) such a costly mistake? Here are 3 tips:

1. Don't go for bling. Buying your wedding ring is not the time to go for gender equality. It is the time to KISS--Keep it Simple, Stupid. Besides undermining your manhood and making you look like a big baby who values gem equality over wife worship, a blingy ring will make you cry like a baby when you loose it. Save the cash and go on a nice vacation. When you loose your ring in the ocean, you'll still be able to enjoy yourself.


2. Go for the tattoo. More tasteful than a naked bust of your wife snaked around your bicep, a small tattoo of her signature wrapped around your finger will solve all of your problems. You won't loose it, it won't cost much, and your wife won't ever yell at you again for forgetting to wear your ring.(Tony Parker tattooed the date of his wedding to Eva Longoria onto his finger.)


3. Have a backup. If you're doing a race or long ride, kicking it back at a lake, or otherwise doing some activity that may allow your ring to slip off undetected, wear a backup, and leave the original in a safe place at home. Buy a box of Cracker Jax, or fork out fifty bucks for a metal band. If that ring goes, you won't be going with it.

Should you loose your ring, your local tri club probably has an undiscovered support group just waiting to meet. Send out an email professing your foolishness, and watch the letters of commiseration from your fellow men roll in.

Happy Training!

PMS, the Olympics, and the Triathlete

The Olympics are inspiring. Motivating. Totally awesome. But when a triathlete has PMS, the Olympics can become an emotional roller coaster--and not just because she had heart palpitations the entire time Michael Phelps was swimming the 100 fly.

PMS invades the woman's brain, taking over any normal functionality. Men may have witnessed this freakish occurrence at some point or another in their lives. The woman cries for no reason, like when Jason Lezak helped the US win the men's 4 x 100 relay against the boastful, snobby French team.

The usually active, PMSing woman will then sit in front of the TV for hours on end, munching on everything in the house, while believing she is somehow doing something healthful by watching the Olympics.

She convinces herself that focusing on Phelps' stroke will make her a better swimmer. Watching Bolt run will make her a faster runner, a skill she needs because she wants to be just like Emma Snowsill. As coachubby put it, the Aussie ran like she was an Ethiopian. The PMSing woman wants to run like an Ethiopian, and somehow believes she will get faster as she takes another bite of chocolate, and adjusts herself on the couch to watch more track finals.

She sacrifices sleep, just to get a glimpse of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh's gold-medal match, a part of their unprecedented 108-match winning streak, while knowing that in no way is watching volleyball going to make her a better triathlete. Perhaps, she thinks, she'll meet Misty May while walking around Manhattan Beach someday, and will be happy to report she's fully aware of the Olympian's accomplishments.

She watches the women's cycling time trial, convinced that is the event she could compete in at the Olympics--it was only a 14-mile course, after all. Kristin Armstrong is now a new idol of the PMSer. The afflicted woman then starts to imagine darting past Big Ben, the Globe Theatre, and the London Eye on her Kuota.

When the coachubby wakes her up in the morning to train, however, the PMSer refuses; her mind is frazzled from all of that virtual swimming, running, and cycling. Her body is tired from staying up too late to fit it all in.

And such is the vicious cycle of created by PMS and the Olympics. Good thing they each only last 1 or 2 weeks, respectively!

Female Triathlete? You Need Birth Control!

Ok, so maybe you don't if, say, you're trying to get pregnant. But there are two very important reasons you should be on birth control if you're a competitive female triathlete (this means you Ironwomen!):

1. You can pretty much guarantee Mother Nature won't be delivering an unwanted gift right before your "A" race...or any other races you have this year.

and

2. Your bones need the estrogen.

If reason number one doesn't already have you signing up for The Pill, reason number 2 should get your attention.

If you're a competitive athlete, chances are you're training a lot. Like up to 20 hours a week during your peak phase of Ironman training. And chances are your affinity for chocolate cake and anything else densely calorific just won't keep enough body fat on your seemingly strong, lean, athlete's body to ensure you have the ideal estrogen levels to keep a regular period. In fact, a Stanford study states that "healthy women who began training for a marathon reduced their estrogen levels by over 50%"!

Without estrogen, your bones will rapidly deteriorate. And no amount of weight training, an activity routinely suggested to up your bone density, can fix it.

If you're already experienced the loss of some bone density, don't panic! The sooner you detect it, the sooner you can take steps to halt the deterioration. In fact, if it hasn't been too long, you may even be able to build your bones back up--with birth control pills! The pills contain that bone-loving hormone your ridiculous training has sucked from your body: estrogen.

So if you've been without your female friend for a little while now, and have probably been thinking it's a blessing it went away, think again and see your doctor ASAP. Discuss hormone therapy with her, because stopping your training (the other option) probably isn't really an option to you.

BONUS: Pills like Seasonale allow you to take pills for 3 months straight, so you only have a period 4x/year, and they also come in generic options.

Happy non-osteoporotic training!

Beware the Smiley Burn!

Don't let this happen to you! I hope this gets to you before it's too late.

PROTECT YOUR SMILEY!

You know, that part of your back between the end of your jersey and the start of your pants that gets exposed when you're in aero position for a long time. Or if your jersey is just so teeny weeny it doesn't cover all of your back.

Don't just put sunscreen on, reapply every few hours. Get a tiny bottle of spray sunscreen and put it in your Bento Box, lest you get a burn that frightens other people away from you in your gym's pool because you look part crocodile, part human. Or part puff-pastry, part human, depending on the stage your burn is in when you decide to douse it in chlorine just for kicks.

Should you fry your smiley, which may seem inevitable if you're racing an Ironman, see a dermatologist. She can prescribe a topical cream that will make it heal faster than any combination of Neosporin/aloe vera you come up with. Plus, she can look you over to make sure the thousands of other times your white skin has turned rouge since you became a triathlete haven't given you any suspicious looking specs. (Plus, you'll be building a good relationship so when your skin becomes all prematurely wrinkly and saggy down the line from all those burns, she'll know how to liven you back up.)

You could also try wearing a jersey that doesn't expose your back, but if you're going for fashionable over smart on the day of your Ironman, stick some spray sunscreen in all of your transition and special needs bags. Then use it. It won't take much time, and your new friend the dermatologist, as well as the first several layers of your skin, will thank you for your effort.

Happy smiling with your face, not your back!

To Take Your Husband's Last Name or Not

Triathletes tend to be independent, progressive thinkers of fairly high intelligence. I’m not saying every triathlete fits this description, but more of my triathlete friends do than don’t. And most of them who didn’t get married young before they were set in their triathletic, independent ways have not been too successful at holding down a long-term relationship. They have a standardized routine, their own space, and a hard time allowing anyone to mess it up.

So what does this have to do with my ambivalence about taking my coachancé’s last name? Coachancé and I have been conditioned on the “give-and-take” side of life through college living; we didn’t have much trouble continuing to live this way as graduation wasn’t that long ago. We’ve never really had our own spaces, and have been changing up our routines on a semester system for several years. I want the heater on, coachancé doesn’t want to pay for it. So the heat comes on in one room of the apartment, designated as “Celia’s Sauna”.

So with all this lovey dovey give and take stuff, it seems like the issue of the married last name shouldn’t be an issue. Traditionally, the man gives the name, the woman takes the name. Case closed. But being one of those difficult people who’s a feminist when it comes to women’s rights, but likes dudes to open doors and lift heavy things for me, I can’t just accept this societal convention.

As far as I can tell, the tradition stems from the fact that a woman was once seen as a man’s property. When she married him, she became his, and the last name change signified just that. Their children were also his and took the man’s last name.

Triathletes Suck at Running

OK, this statement is simply not true. But this triathlete sucked at running on Wednesday, when she ate it so bad running down a concrete street that her hip swelled to the size of a softball, and somehow her knee, palms, elbows, and shin got into the action.

Noting a man walking up the sidewalk approximately 15 seconds into my run, I decided to look cool and make a quick glance behind my right shoulder before crossing to the other side of the street I live on while keeping up my pace (established approximately 2 seconds earlier). I looked over my shoulder, and took a step with my right foot and WHOOP! Like stepping on a banana peel, my foot slid right out from under me, and I landed on my right hip and hand and knee and shin. As common courtesy between men and women doesn't seem to exist anymore, the man walked right on as if he hadn't seen anything while I lay in the middle of the street. Nice.

I got up and found what I had slipped on: a giant piece of 1/2 inch thick plexiglass some punk left in the road. Nice. I put it on a fence, then continued my run and picked up the road trash on my way back so I could show it to my coachancé, and so I'd have a specific object to be pissed at, other than myself.

Moral of the story: Look before you step, or else you can get road rash that looks like you crashed your bike--except without the harrowing tales that accompany bike crash wounds. AND if you see someone fall, at least ask if they're OK. Especially a week before Christmas. Geez.

Why Athletes Should Remain Humble

Even if you're an athletic superstar who wins every race, who has sponsors lining up who can't wait to pay for your every expense, and who has hot women/men throwing themselves at you, you should never ever let your head swell with pride. Remember you have been blessed with a gift to kick ass, just as one of the competitors whose ass you kick might have been blessed with the ability to shrewdly manage your finances.

Use your victories as a reminder that it's time to celebrate someone else. Pop open that bottle of Champagne, spray it on the crowd, then go home and spend time with your buddies. You know, the people who are still your friends even though you routinely give up beer night for a long run? You'll become a better athlete for cultivating your friendships.

Want proof nobody likes a cocky jock, including higher powers? This guy got cocky, so his celebration was struck down within seconds.

Cocky Jock Video

(Sorry, I had this as an embedded video and it messed everything up in Firefox!)

Happy Racing! Happy Winning! And happy celebrating your friends and not yourself!

Catholic Marriage Counseling and the Triathlete

At first thought, a getaway up in the mountains of Santa Barbara for you and your fiancé might sound romantic. Heck, that might even be your idea of a perfect honeymoon! But throw in 39 other engaged couples, a priest, a few couples older than your grandparents who will lead the weekend, separate male and female dorms, and psychological warfare, and you have what the Catholic church likes to call: Engaged Encounter.

Being a skeptic, and having watched “License to Wed” twice, I was looking out for subtle signs that the church was trying to tear me and coachancé apart. The first effort to test our relationship came on the drive up. We left LA at about 4:30pm, arrived in Santa Barbara around 7:00pm (when we were supposed to be there), then were faced with this sign on the narrow windy mountain road up to the church: ROAD CLOSED. When the little old lady called me the night before we left to ask if I had any questions, why didn’t she tell me that the only road in all of HER directions was closed? It was a test. I swear.

When we finally arrived, pooped and hungry, two pair of 80 year-old lovers signed us in, then proceeded to get crackin’ on our lessons, because we had 44 hours to pack in every major discussion we could possibly have over our lifetime, and going to bed at 9 was, apparently, a practice only held by young triathletes in their 20s and not 80 year-old marriage nazis who no longer needed beauty rest.

Journals were set on all of our seats—journals that would soon be filled with the key to a long and happy marriage, according to the octogenarians. The first page was titled: Introduction. The first question? Why did I come here this weekend? My answer? Because the Catholic Church said I had to, and I love spending time with my coachancé, and I want to see how many times I can make him cry in one weekend.

That’s right, coachancé is the perfect guy; he is incredibly romantic, and infinitely better at expressing his feelings—especially if they’re mushy—than I. So I made a “Coachancé Boo-Hoo Tally” and kept note of each time I made him cry, and what page in the journals did him in.

Cycling and the Middle Finger

Have you ever been riding only to be honked at for no reason? Then suddenly you feel your fist rise and before you know it your middle finger perks up and you’ve just successfully pulled a move equally a-hole like as the guy who honked in the first place? What is it about raising that finger that just becomes automatic when you’re cycling in a big city? Is it because the action has become so ubiquitous on the road that it has lost all meaning but somehow remains ephemerally satisfying for the finger-flipper? Can I try to cram any more big words into one sentence!?

If I could talk to the drivers that honk because I’m not riding as far to the right as possible, I’d say, “Have you ever been hit by a car door?” to which I’d imagine the typical response would be “No.” to which I’d reply “Then you wouldn’t understand why I won’t ride any further to the right.”

Even though the man in a hurry who feels like my presence in his lane is going to somehow make him late for his very important life (importance emphasized by the white ’89 Camry) ends up right beside me at a stoplight, this conversation never happens. Hence the immediate satisfaction of the finger flip.

But you know what’s an even better solution that I’ve been working on? The ginormous smile. That’s right. This baby will piss off that very important man more than any middle finger. Why? Because mean people don’t know how to deal with smiles…even if they’re not completely genuine. And you’ll feel better, too, because smiling releases serotonin and makes you happy. The finger? Probably makes you feel a little poopy inside.

So smile cyclists! Smile away at all of those evil drivers! (Unless they hurt you. Then finger flip away!)

Happy Cycling!

The Downside to a Perma-Trishorts Tan: The Butt-Fold Burn

I have become very proud of my “neopolitan” tan, what my best friend likes to call the tricolor tan on my thighs. The top is butt-white (as it should be, it’s the part closest to my derrière). This is the part of me that my shortest pair of tri shorts cover, ending high on my thighs. The next phase in my whiteness, normally covered by a longer pair of tri shorts, was subsequently burnt when I did a long race in the short shorts. It turned a lovely strawberry color. Finally, the last part of my thighs is not really a chocolate color, but it comes as close as I’m ever going to get to being “tan”. Thus, the neopolitan tan.

I have defended the perma tritan on my thighs and back against countless bridal gown consultants, friends, coworkers, etc. I have learned to be proud of it.

So when does a perma tan become a very bad thing not worth defending?

The permatritan develops from wearing the same tri-related accessories day in and day out. For me, this is shorts and a tank top. So when I decided to have a beach day yesterday in boy short bikini bottoms, a part of my bum was exposed to sunlight that has truly never seen the light of day. It had been protected by my Zoot shorts for eternity.

Subsequently, I now have the most painful, horrendous sunburn of my life: the butt fold burn. The BFB makes it impossible to pedal a bike, swim, run, sit down, go to the bathroom, or do anything in which you move your thighs in a way that engages your bum. This includes all human activity.

So please, triathletes. Should you decide to enjoy a normal beach day in which you choose to wear something fashionable (i.e. NOT a Speedo or trisuit) that leaves parts of you exposed that only you and your bathroom mirror have seen, don’t forget to lay on the sunscreen!

This has been a public service announcement from FriedDiva.

Happy Beach Days!

How to Have an Un-Tri-Related Conversation

Admit it, it's hard--especially at the height of your training--to strike up a conversation that doesn't start out or end up about triathlon. Training. Running. Biking. Swimming. Nutrition. Injuries. Given you spend almost every waking hour training, or doing something so you can support your triathlon habit (i.e. the "day job"), it's hard to get your mind away from it.

At some point, your friends will stop talking to you.

Even your tri buddies may grow weary of your conversation. Before you end up discussing how great that last interval was with your bike (whom you've named), consider these simple rules:

1. Read at least one thing totally un-triathlon related every day. Reading will expand your mind and give you something else to ponder. ("It's Not About the Bike" doesn't count. Try "The Wall Street Journal" or something. NOT the sports section!)


2. See a movie totally un-sports related. Like the Simpsons movie, when it comes out. Everyone will love to talk about it, I'm sure.


3. Travel. For reasons totally unrelated to triathlon. This will put triathlon in perspective, and maybe even make you feel a bit guilty about spending all that money on a carbon fiber bike when you see kids who won't even wear their new running shoes because they are the fanciest possession they own.


4. When you're doing your workout, focus solely on your workout. But when it's over, focus on the rest of your day. Yep, you had a great run this morning. Now enjoy the endorphin rush and think/talk about something else. It's over!


5. Remember: Just because you're not reading sports related magazines, dissecting your last workout, wearing a heart rate monitor, or talking about triathlon, this does NOT mean that you are somehow going to "loose" what you've got, or that you are not a triathlete. The bracelet you've kept on your arm since your last Ironman half a year ago is proof enough. In fact, with a well-balanced life and a healthy perspective on how your hobbies fit into it, you'll become a better athlete. Guaranteed. You'll be happier, less stressed, and your mental game will be right on cue.

Happy Conversing!

Why Triathletes Make Bad Drivers

Surely some of you triathletes have pristine driving records. You should be proud, because chances are, you're the rare exception among your tribuddies. Here are 5 reasons why the difference between their insurance premium and yours is enough for you to buy a new carbon fiber frame every year:

1. They shout "rolling" and run through red lights when they think the coast is clear.


2. They stick their arm out the window in an attempt to halt traffic as they cut across 3 lanes to get into a left turn lane, believing those other guys will stop.


3. They point at potholes, then swerve around them, usually ending up half way in another person's lane.


4. They "draft" large trucks and people driving H2s, then explain they can't figure out why it took them so long to stop while the driver of the aforementioned expensive mantruck inspects his bashed in chrome rear bumper.


5. They explain it's their turn to "take the pull" as they gun it past a line of cars then jam themselves in what they call the "front of the paceline".

Luckily, there are things you can do to help these poor trigeek souls. Like offering to drive. All of the time. Maybe they'll even offer to chip in for gas, but if they don't, don't feel badly--you get a new carbon fiber frame, after all, while they're the reason your local State Farm agent is currently on vacation in Bermuda.

Happy Driving!

How Sleep Deprivation Affects Triathletes

Maybe you just started a new job. Maybe your kid is sick. Maybe you're going through a divorce or do the very "now" Hollywood thing to do and are waiting have your hands full trying to adopt a kid from a far off 3rd world country. If you're not paid to train (aka most of us), and you're not the only person in your life (aka most of us), chances are the easiest way to make the day fit together is to steal time from sleep time.

But just what, besides the time spent dreaming of Kona glory, are you loosing from cutting back on sleep?

Studies have shown that a chronic lack of sleep can lead to the following massively stinky results:

• elevated levels of cortisol, which in turn impair your body's ability to repair its own tissues (very important for an endurance athlete!). It also makes it harder for your body to clear glucose from the blood, and, heaven forbid, makes you retain fat in your belly! That'd be a shame, after you got up all early to exercise, to have your body put all its fat stores in your hard earned washboard abs!


• slowed glycogen storage -- you need your body to store glycogen in its muscles and liver to get you through a tough workout without bonking / becoming hypoglycemic / an incoherent bumbling mess. If you don't sleep enough, your body won't store as much as it would have in your muscles, leading you on a risky path to self destruction


• tends to lower your resting body temperature --feeling chilled? Maybe it's not the office. Perhaps you didn't sleep enough last night, huh?

And now for some very unscientific facts. Lack of sleep may cause you to:

• be a jerk. It's true, you can't handle things as well when you're uber tired. Besides the fact that your muscles are all tired and crying for repair time, you're probably also on the verge of hypoglycemia, and having your secretary shove one more meeting agenda in your face might just make you snap! "You know what time I got up this morning! 4:30! Then I worked out for 4 hours straight! Don't talk to me!" Yes, you are cool for achieving so much before getting to the office, but your coworkers can't even comprehend how much 4 hours of exercise really is. All they care is that you're not a giant pain in the arse to them when they show up for work. So don't be.


• be a spaz-- crying a lot lately? About stuff that wouldn't normally make you cry? Or freaking out about something you wouldn't have even given a second thought to? You are sleep deprived! (Or psychotic. If you think it's the latter, see a doctor.) It's amazing how in the evening, you might begin to hyperventilate thinking about your future love life, then after a full night's sleep, you'll wake up cool, confident, and collected. Which, by the way, are very attractive traits in a significant other. So you won't have to worry about romance any more!


• suck at work. Hey, you can't remember anything your boss just said do you one minute ago? OK, so even if you're usually like that, at least you know what you're doing most of the time. If you're sleep deprived, you may just end up in a catatonic state and stare blankly at the wall all day and not even realize your TPS report is not even done. Whatever that is.


• be neglectful. Is your cat looking super skinny lately? Have you fed him? Probably not. Between shoving handfuls of trail mix into your mouth and downing countless gallons of soda and coffee to keep you at least LOOKING alert, important things like your cat, your friends, your rent, and stuff like that fall to the wayside. Your brain and body are just focusing on keeping you alive, not on keeping you sheltered, successful, and happy--and certainly not on doing the same for Foofie.

So what to do? Make sure you get at lteast 8 solid hours of sleep a night. Especially during peak training period. (10 is even better at that time!) If you're not getting it, injuries you never thought would happen might sneak up on you and make you wish you had done something about your sleepless life earlier.

Live throws things at you constantly. It's ok if you can't get 8 hours every night. But if you've been putting all that effort into training--especially the 25+ hours/week for an Ironman, it'd be a real shame if it all went to waste just because you didn't get your z's!

For more information on sleep deprivation and athletes, check out these articles:

Sleep Deprivation can Hinder Sports Performance

Sleep and Performance

Sweet dreams!

The Triathlete vs. The Dog

Typically, people who own large dogs are active people. Because those dogs have to go to the toilet a lot, and their owners would rather not have it happen in their homes. And because they have enough stamina to complete a significant run with you. And because they love you unconditionally, etc...

But what if someone else's dog decides to go on a run with you? Like a big playful lab who is so excited to meet you, he can't contain himself or run in a straight line? If he's outside, his owner must not be far away, right?

You could check his tags to see if he might have run far away, but who has time for that in the middle of an interval? "Cute dog," you think, "but I wish it would go away because it's messing up my workout!" Then...BAM! Cute dog does a 90 degree turn straight into you, swiping your feet out from under you and jumping happily as you eat asphalt in front of an unsuspecting school mom in a minivan who visibly freaks out, but doesn't stop her car.

Now your hip hurts, your knee hurts, you have worse road rash than your friend who legitimately got it from crashing his bike last weekend in the rain, blood running down your shin, and the dog has magically disappeared.



What to do? Well, if you checked his tags and have a photographic memory, you could go to his owner and shove your beautifully bloodied leg in his/her face and tell her her lovely Foofie did that and she/he should keep him on a leash.

Or you could see if you can find the dog, then swipe his legs out from under him and see how he likes it. Only in this situation, it's almost certain that any school mom in a minivan watching you would probably get out of her car and make a death threat against you for committing crimes against precious animals. (Yes, it's twisted. But drivers don't care about people who exercise, remember? Dogs who exercise, on the other hand, are safe.)

Or you could continue on with your run, hoping the pain will go away, and thinking to yourself that next time, you'll tie the dog to a fire hydrant or something before you continue your interval, just for peace of mind.

What would you do?

The Long Run and the Garmin

(In this case the Garmin 305)

People prefer to run in all kinds of scenarios. In fact, in a recent Runner's World, you could take a quiz to find out what kind of runner you are based on what motivates you. Are you competitive? Social? A purist? A fitness junkie? A bit of everything?

Well, chances are you're a bit of all four. You like to run alone sometimes to clear your head, and when you're least motivated, nothing helps like having a friend to meet and run with.

And chances are, at least once, you're going to have to do that long run alone. Because nobody wants to get up with you on a Sunday, drive 45 minutes and run 16 miles with 3,000 feet of climbing.

Yes, it is another chance to be with nature and yourself. Hit the trails. Enjoy the scenery. Yadda yadda yadda. But one thing we at TriDiva have found to be extremely helpful for those super long solo journeys is a Garmin. In fact, we're a little obsessed. It gives you the freedom to run alone in contemplative silence. It won't ask you about your Great Aunt Mary or that ticket you got for driving the wrong way on a one way street. But it will gather all sorts of fun information about your run, and beep kindly at you at every interval you set (like every mile), and when you start and stop, so you don't feel so alone.

In fact, having that little guy on your wrist might just make you feel invincible, and give you motivation to make your next split faster than your last. (Or play all sorts of interval games!) And should you stop for directions, your Garmin will chirp happily as it pauses itself, letting your fellow runner/hiker know you are super cool for having such a gadget, and that no, you are not all alone out in the wilderness. You've got GPS. (So what if the OnStar people aren't tracking your every move?)

And when you get home, tons of fun information will be readily at your fingertips! Just plug it into your computer for graphs of your heart rate vs. incline vs. distance. Your fastest split, your biggest climb in a mile.

Then print out your stellar stats and share them with the friend that didn't run with you. Because maybe next week, you'll finally feel like discussing your directionally challenged vehicular boo boo (as you like to call it). And while the Garmin does a lot of cool stuff, it won't tell you that yeah, that street sign was hard to see, and yeah, that cop was unusually cocky and mean that day and yeah, a $432 ticket was totally uncalled for and yeah, you don't have to go out to dinner this week to save some cash for the evil ticket. Human running partners can be nice, too!

Happy long running!

Birthday Ideas for Your Favorite Tri Geek

Picture this: It's the middle of your favorite trigeek's season. They've been training really hard. And uh oh, tomorrow's their birthday! Your first instinct is to take your trigeek out on the town for a night of birthday revelry. But he/she'll have none of that! "Alcohol! Staying up past 9pm! You surely weren't thinking of me when you made these plans!" the Trigeek screams. So what to do?

Here are 5 ideas to make your trigeek's birthday extra special--and that'll have 'em in bed with the rest of the 6 year-olds in America.

1. Make a nice meal. Yes, nice meals can be done without wine. Something with their favorite protein/carb/fat ratio. That'll show you put some extra special thought into it. Try this Roasted Salmon with Spinach and Figs recipe from Chris Carmichael's cook book. Yummy and perfectly nutritious. And don't skip the birthday cake! It's still fun to blow out the candles, even if your trigeek will be finiky about eating it (tell them you found the recipe in Runner's World or something. Then maybe they'll dig in!)


2. Give them a sensual massage. (You can even say it like Austin Powers.) Or a sports massage, if you're related or something. Ask where they need the most work--you can even ask ahead of time and brush up on some techniques to help with specific problem areas like ITs and hamstrings. And foot massages are always awesome!


3. Give them home-made coupons that'll help get them through their tough training. Like a coupon to take out their trash every Sunday for a month. Or to vacuum their carpet. Or to do their laundry once, or twice. Or clean their kitchen. Or walk their dog. (Just make sure they're something you will actually do!) These little acts of kindness will be a super help to your pooped out triathlete who doesn't have enough hours in the day to take care of things like housecleaning when they get home. Print these coupons out and fill 'em in--easy!


4. Put all of those tri pics you have of them and their friends together in a collage. You can even get pillows made with their pictures on them!Check out this website--you can make a photo pillow case, so they can dream about their past and future accomplishments!


5. Make a CD of all your favorite and some of their favorite psych up songs. Or songs that get them rarin' to go out and train. Pick stuff with a good tempo and strong beat. Hip hop works well for training. U2's Where the Streets Have No Name, and Springsteen's Born To Run are always awesome.

So there you have it. Triathletes tend to be the types who appreciate knowing that people still love them, even though they dedicate so much of their time to training, and act like grandparents when you ask them to go out for a night on the town with you. Gifts from the heart that show you really thought about them are perfect.

And if they've been mentioning some gizmo they just have to have, like a Garmin, or a fancy skinsuit, you can always throw that into the mix if it's in your budget. But never underestimate the power of a card from the heart and a thoughtful gift. Yes, it now sounds like all trigeeks are moms or something, but thoughtfulness is always good! Happy Birthday to your Trigeek!

What to Do On Your Rest Weekend

It's finally here! The weekend you don't have to ride at least 100 miles or run until your brain becomes numb from bouncing around so much! But the thought of all this unstructured free time is giving you the heebegeebees! What to do!?

Here are some suggestions to get you all excited about your weekend of rest and relaxation (while your muscles are all excited to build themselves up and make you stronger):

• spend time with your neglected pets. Take Fatso on a walk. Start him on his tri regimen. Go to the park. Let him meet a little lady. Play fetch. Have fun!

• spend time with your neglected family. Take your spouse / kids for a walk. Go to the park. Set you kids up on a date. Play frisbee. Go rollerblading. Lie on the beach (or, if it's freakin freezing in your neck of the woods, build a snowman!)


• watch the Super Bowl!!! And have some pretzels and chips and beer while you're at it. You deserve it. Paint yourself the colors of your favorite team and gloat when they show the dudes on TV in the stadium who wrote "Go Team" on their stomachs. It looks much better on your 6 pack. Your abs, that is.


• Read a book. A fiction book. A book that is non sports related. A trashy romance novel. A thriller. A political satire. Anything! Exercise your brain!


• Propose to your significant other. Hey, if you've been thinking about it, now's a good time. You'll even have time afterward to, you know, do something with him/her like go to a movie or out to the clubs to celebrate. Because next weekend, and for the next 3 weeks, it's all about you again...


• Sleep. A lot. Like at least 10 hours every night, or if that doesn't fit into your crazy social lifestyle, take a nap. That's right, they're not just for kindergarteners anymore.


• Go see a movie. In an actual theatre. Heck, stay for 2 or three. It's about time you caught up with what's hot in Hollywood and added some more memorable movie quotes to your repertoire. Check out "Smokin' Aces" with the boys or gals, then see "Because I Said So" with your mom.


• Clean your place. Hey, it doesn't sound like fun, but wouldn't it be nice if that perma-sweat mark under your trainer finally disappeared? You're probably not the only one who would appreciate that!


• Check out a local car show and marvel at the fact that these people opted to spend their money putting TVs in the headrests their '85 TransAms when they could've bought a new carbon fiber frame!


• Go shopping! Rules: No spandex. (Unless it helps with the fit of say, a nice sweater...) Nothing you would ever wear to workout, swim, or sweat in intentionally. Buy a new date dress, or a nice spring colored collared shirt. You'll really impress your sig. other if you show up at his/her door in something other than that stained team sweatshirt from your glorious college XC days.


• Volunteer at a soup kitchen. You'll be doing something sweet for other people for once, and probably walk away with a free meal yourself. Good karma and free food. Not a bad deal.


• Go to church. If you're religious, chances are you've become a solo practitioner. Heck, you've gotta be on your bike by 7am Sunday morning every other weekend! God will be with you as you ride. Besides, you pray to Him all the time during your ride that you won't get hit by a catering truck. He'd probably appreciate it if you'd visit Him once in a while and say thank you for not letting you become road kill after all those years and all those miles.

Just remember: Relax and have fun! It's only 2 days, then back to the beat-yourself-up, no-time-for-you, it's-all-about-me building phase again. So go party like a rockstar! Even if it means falling asleep by 8pm and dreaming about partying like a rockstar...