2011 - The Year of the Rockstar

If I thought I was Supergirl-mode in 2010 (I could do ANYTHING), I thought I was a Rockstar in 2011 (I could do EVERYTHING).  The year's busy round up included:

Travel:

• Three international trips:  Costa Rica, Haiti, and France
• A couple of domestic trips:  Tampa/Orlando, Miami, Anaheim, Las Vegas

Education: 

• Taking a comedic writing course and a story-telling course
• Building up my skills in Spanglish, Salsa, and Bacchata
• Confirming that I could speak some French (even if alcohol had to help a little bit)

Athletics:

• Three triathlons and two marathons, including the Goofy Challenge.  PR-ing at several races.
• Inspiring others -- including 2 friends to run their first Half Marathons and 1 who ran his first Full Marathon

Service:

• Joining High Cloud's Dream Team and raising funds/awareness for children and women in distressed situations in international countries through my athletics
• Strengthening the bonds of my alumni community
• Helping to develop future leaders in my professional community
• Raising funds for the Homeless and assisting at the Winter Shelter in my neighborhood

Health and Sanity:

• Eating more salad than I did last year and truly buying fruit because it looked more scrumptious than the cupcake
• Getting a juicer and discovering the taste of fresh veggie and fruit juices
• Splurging more occassionally on good chocolate, good gelato, and fresh flowers for home
• Making room for lots of new friendships, while growing a lot of old ones as well

It's important to take notes on your accomplishments, regardless of how small or big they may seem to you.  You have to recognize your own contribution and impact on society.  You have to give yourself some credit for your own strengths and flexibility.  Life's too short to wait for something to happen.

An Athletically Bigger, Badder 2012

2011 was a great year.  I remember when I used to bargain with myself to do 2 races a year.  Then, the goal was a race per quarter.  This year was a lot more insane.  Here was 2011's Race Calendar:

So, what's next?  How does 2012 become bigger and badder?  Oh, let's just say, it is already.

1)  February - We start off by stripping to our undies and running around the Capitol.  Yep!  Unfortunately, I'm not kidding.  Remember that nightmare where you show up to school in your underwear?  Well, I'm running in the Cupid's Undie Run to raise funds for the Children's Tumor Foundation.  To support the cause and my utter embarrassment of all things, help by making a donation.

2)  March - Why-oh-why did I sign up for a Spring marathon?  Yep, I'm running the Suntrust Rock 'n' Roll Marathon on March 17th.  With a band at every mile, I already know of 2 friends who will be playing and look forward to the local entertainment.

3)  April - I love me some Crystal Run 5Ks.  Those were some of the best sprint workouts I had all year  in 2011.

4)  May - I'm heading to the West Coast to the city gave birth to the crazy sport of triathlons - San Diego.  I'll be competing in the ITU World Championship - Olympic Distance.  I look forward to supporting the DC Tri Club and seeing the rest of the country (and world) and my new favorite sport.

5)  July - The Big One.  Here we go.  Big gulp.  I am going after my first Half Ironman Distance.  Musselman, here I come.  It's a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and 13.1 mile run.  I know...I know...I'm crazy.

6)  September - I'm bringing it back home and racing Nation's Triathlon again.  In 2011, the swim was cancelled due to some torrential downpours, so hopefully this will get to be a full race.  Yes, that's right.  I'm taking my chances and diving back into the Potomac River again.   

8)  October - I tuck the goggles and bike away.  I'm going after another Race Wishlist Item:  The Chicago Marathon.  With a flat course worth bragging about, I plan to focus on some speed workouts to go after a true PR at this marathon.  Then, I'll be happy with my marathon career.

9)  November (tentative) - I said "happy," not retired.  Yep...I think I'm going back to Philly for the Philadelphia Marathon again of the year.  With good friends already scheduled to go, I just hate missing out on a great party.

That's about nine races planned and 2012 hasn't even begun.  I guess I better get to the gym.

What does your badass year look like?!!

Beyond refreshing: Carrot, Grapefruit, Ginger Juice

Has the lethargy set in after a month of holiday parties, cookies, and candies?  Does your body hate you for all of the crap you've fed into it?  Well, no need to wait another week to start your New Year Resolution -- start doing that body some good today. 

This refreshingly sweet juice will speed your metabolism, offers some keen carotene for your eyes and skin, and the ginger is great for your overall digestive system.

Serves 1

2    Grapefruits (peeled)
4-5 Organic Carrots
1 inch Ginger (peeled, chopped)

Process through the juicer and drink immediately.

**Tip:  When time crunched, it is fine to refrigerate/store fresh juice for up to 24 hours.

Restaurant Review: Thai X-ing

Some sad misconceptions about Thai food in the US that I want to clear up:

 

1)  Adding peanuts to a dish does not make it Thai.
2)  Thai people don't use chopsticks.
3)  Pad Thai is not actually popular in Thailand.

Being Thai and having a mother who was a very good cook leaves me to be highly critical of Thai restaurants in the area.  I was particularly curious to check out Thai X-ing after the reviews I had read.  It was absolutely necessary to make reservations in advance before dropping by this rowhouse which is nonchalantly located in the Shaw neighborhood of DC.

 

It's a $30/pp Chef's Choice menu with a BYOB benefit. So what was on tonight's menu?

• Stuffed Cucumber Soup and Papaya Salad

• Pumpkin Curry, Beef Kra Pow
• Red Chicken Curry
• Pad See Ew
• Sticky rice in banana leaf
• ...and a cabernet sauvignon from home (only because the riesling wasn't properly chilled)

 

I think the "cucumber" in the soup is actually called bittermelon.  At least, that's what my mom called it growing up.  The soup was a light, flavorful broth that you don't typically find available at local Thai restaurants.  I enjoyed this soup because I haven't had it since I was a kid when my mom would still make it.

As for the papaya salad, this salad is from the Isaan (northeastern) region of Thailand.  As a result, cityfolk (Thai people from Bangkok) don't make this as well as the countryfolk.  While I could be wrong, I think the chef is from the Thai countryside.  And I have the say that this was one of my favorite papaya salads that I've had.  It was a bit sweeter than other versions that I've had and the papaya was very tender (a result of being hit by the mortar and pestel quite hard).  I loved it.

The curries were very fragrant.  I enjoyed the pumpkin curry in particular because most Thai dishes that I've had don't have many vegetables.  Many Thai restaurants in the US have added veggies like broccoli, red pepper, etc. but the authentic versions don't actually use these veggies.  The pumpkin absorbed the coconut milk rather well.  It was also a nice thick consistency. 

The fresh noodles in the pad see ew.  I also loved the banana leaf sticky rice dessert -- a welcome departure from the mangos and sticky rice that have become so mainstream in the US. 

All-in-all, I would give Thai X-ing 4.5 stars out of 5.  The food was "good" -- like I said, I'm a hard critic of Thai food.  It was much better than the average Thai restaurant in the DC area...and they are almost ALL average.  However, I also enjoyed the friendly service and casual ambience that made me feel like I was eating in someone's family home.  And at the price of $30...it's no wonder that it's considered a DC area best bargain.

Healthy Mint Chocolate (Carob) Milkshake

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard....

Here it is - a mint chocolate milkshake that is actually healthy.

1 cup Coconut Milk
2 T  Carob Powder
2 T  Unsweetened Coconut Flakes
1 T  Agave Sweetener
Leaves of 2 stalks of fresh Mint  (approx. 8 leaves)
1 cup ice

Blend.  Serves 1.

Restaurant Review: America Eats Tavern

Wow!  What an unbelievable eating experience in DC.  I was lucky to go to America Eats Tavern, a “pop-up” or temporary restaurant by Chef Jose Andres in the place that Café Atlantico used to be.  My cousin is an ultimate foodie and had the responsibility of determining what our food experience was going to be.  It was a win-win situation for both of us.

First course:

Eggs A La Benedick – My cousin is into molecular gastronomy so this dish was completely up his alley.  As for me, the eggs had been whipped up in such a light way that I just couldn’t figure out how to eat the liquid egg.   

Fried Chicken with Catsup (plus additional Jack Daniel’s Catsup) – This comes with blueberry catsup, but my cousin ordered the Jack Daniel’s catsup on the side.  I actually preferred the sweetness of the blueberry catsup with the deliciously fried chicken to the salty, tanginess of the Jack Daniel’s version.  This was so delicious that the table next to us had to copy our order.

Second course:

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich – It’s almost like a Hot Pocket version of a PB&J.  While I liked the modern twist, and the use of a natural nut butter (instead of Jiff), it was a pretty expensive PB&J.  It did come with chips and a glass of milk for a bit of childhood nostalgia.

Shrimp Etoufee – Yummy, but with so many Cajun places in the DC area, this didn’t seem like anything special.

Third course:

Harvard Beet Salad – I’m going to admit that I’m seriously bias here because I LOVE beets.  And this was a heavy beet salad.  Lots and lots and lots of beets.  Well done.

Mock Turtle Soup – Served only on Tuesdays and Wednesdays  I’m really glad to catch the word “Mock” in front of “Turtle;” otherwise, I was a bit hesitant to give this slow-poke a try.  It reminded me a lot like a beef stew to me.

Fourth course:

New England Clam Chowder with Poached Cod – Heavenly.  Seriously.  This version of clam chowder was lighter than traditional chowders and had a delectable piece of cod and raw clams. 

Blackened Croaker with Braised Turnip Greens – The fish was very fresh so the croaker was also quite delicious.  It was blackened which tends to mean it’ll be a tad bit on the salty side.  I’m a big fan of greens but the braised turnip greens were a bit too salty and saucy for me.  I ate up every last bit of the fish however.

Fifth course:

Key Lime Pie – What a lovely, light finish to our meal.  There was no graham crust.  Instead the key lime part of the pie was squeegeed out onto the plate.  A nice finish to our palate.

Overall service:

Fantastic.  We were treated like kings and queens.  The pacing between the courses was well done.  I say that if I'm going to have an eating experience like this, I'd expect the type of service we received.  Thankfully, it lived up to expectations.

All in all, I’m no foodie, but I enjoyed our meal.  While we walked away barely able to roll away from the table after so much food, I think the best way to enjoy this restaurant is to really spoil yourself with a full range of 5 courses so you can sample a little bit of everything.  This was definitely a fun night of eating.

Small Business Support: The Factory Tees and Vintage Apparel

This is a story called "Be Nice to Your Neighbor."

My first day of kindergarten, I stood at my school bus stop with all of the big kids.  Having just moved into the neighborhood a month ago, I was brand new to the block and did not know ANYBODY.  The big kids started to quiz me, "Say the alphabet!" 

I recited it just as my parents had taught me, "Ay - Bee - Cee - Dee - Eee - Eff - Jee - Echh..."  A roar of laughter ensued.

On Day 2, the big kids said to me again, "Say the alphabet!"  I repeated everything just as my parents, whose native language was NOT english (see where this is going?), had taught me.  Once again, roaring laughter.  I didn't know what was so funny.

On Day 3, we go through the same routine again with the same results.  On Day 3 after school, one of the big kids, Stan, stops me in my tracks before I leave the bus stop.  "Say the alphabet."  I repeat our little dance.  He laughs quietly and then says, "Okay, it's not 'Echh.'  It is 'Ayych.'  Say 'Ayych.'"

Much to the bitter disappointment of the other big kids on the block, Nice-Man-Stan saved me from further alphabet-reciting humiliation.  In later times throughout our childhood, he would also teach me how to breakdance, defend my nerdy clothing selections when his girlfriends picked on me, and act impressed when I told him I got accepted into the University of Virginia (my nerdiness had actually paid off).

Fast forward thirty years later from that first day of kindergarten, I come across an article in Northern Virginia Magazine about a new store that has opened up on Main Street in Fairfax.  The Factory sells cool vintage and original t-shirt designs; and the article had a picture of its cute owner/designer -- a guy named, Stan Darke.

Say what?!!

Yep, Nice-Man-Stan grew up to be a talented artist.  So like the curious stalker that I can be, I made my way to the store.  Ladies and gents, I have to say it's pretty cool.  There is a lacking of vintage shops in Northern Virginia.  Consignment shops are growing in popularity.  And some of them are carrying vintage designer wear.  But not everyone can afford a $500 Chanel jacket, regardless of the bargain deal it may be for vintage Chanel. 

The Factory sells cool t-shirts.  The kind that you would probably try to buy a replica of at Target.  Only it's not actually vintage at Target.  And guess what?!!  The price of Target's replica is the same as the original vintage over at the Factory.  You may only get a better deal if you were willing to sift through the mess at the Salvation Army, but seriously...do you have time for that?

In addition, Stan has a bunch of his original designs for sale too.  It's very Cali-hip -- something I haven't found too much (none that I can think of actually) in the DC Metro Area.  There are some tree-hugger themes, Northern Virginia-pride themes, and current issue themed shirts (Stan had funny "I survived the Northern Virginia Earthquake of 2011" t-shirts printed the day after the Earthquake).

(Little piece of trivia:  The old hipster in the photo turns out to be Stan's 86-year old neighbor.) 

Follow The Factory on Facebook to stay updated on their latest vintage shipments and t-shirt designs. 

So, Friends, now when you see me in a fun new cotton t-shirt that has digressed from my typical athletic-sweat-wicking functional t-shirts, you can probably guess where I got it.  And when you see me doing the Arm Wave on the dance floor, you can probably guess who I learned it from.

Race Report: Epic Fail aka The Hot Chocolate 15K

I won't pick apart this race any further than it's already been picked apart.  However, I will say that I will most likely NEVER do another Hot Chocolate race. 

The inaugural race in National Harbor had way too many runners (greedy), was very expensive (greedy), gave cheap swag (greedy), and the so-called Chocolate Party at the end sucked (wasn't I running for the chocolate?).

It was terribly organized by RAM Racing.  There was a lack of communication about where to go, where to park, and even where the START LINE was.

The only positive thing was the people and volunteers who worked the event.  They were very nice and apologetic, even amongst 22,000 angry runners.

Unfortunately, kind apologies don't replace the actual race experience which can be described as "mass chaos."

Some of the runners are demanding a full refund.  I wouldn't take it this far.  I still raced.  I even had a good run and PR'd for this distance.

However, I don't race because I expect to win.  And no one pays ME to race.

Instead, I can explain best my relationship with racing via Rihanna's S&M song lyrics, "There's no way I'm turning back (Oh oh oh oh oh); Now the pain is my pleasure 'cause nothing could measure (Oh oh oh oh oh)."    Like the sadomasicist I am, I actually pay someone else so that I can put my body through the pain.  I race for the enjoyment of the experience.

Unfortunately, this was not a great race experience.  The Hot Chocolate Race turned out to be made with sour soy milk.

Accepting HIM As My Next Goal

What?  A man?!  No, though as a single girl that's always on the horizon.
God?!  I'm spiritual but not super religious.

HIM = Half Ironman; Me = Bad a**!

A year ago, I could only swim from one side of the pool to the other side of the pool before I needed to catch my breath.  I did not own a bike and certainly didn't know anything about "clipping in."

Today, kind of like going to the restroom together, I fell upon the peer pressure of girlfriends who want us to do a Half Ironman together.  Therefore, I'm taking the plunge and putting a Half Ironman on my race calendar for 2012.  That's a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run.

So stay tuned, Folks.  I'm signing up for the Musselman Half Ironman race in mid-July.  My base training as of today is that I can swim 0.75 mile, cycle 60 miles, and run 26.2 miles.  However, I can do these only as separate sports.

I've got 8.5 months of training up ahead!  And most importantly, 8.5 months to get over my swimming panic attacks.  Let the countdown begin!

Whole Wheat Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins

It's dangerous to have a sweet tooth and to love to bake.  The least I can do is re-interpret recipes to make a bit less dangerous than the traditional muffin (which really is just a sweetened cupcake without the frosting).  I love the addition of wheat and nuts/seeds to make one heartier.

1 1/2 cups wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
15oz. can solid-pack organic pumpkin
1/3 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground allspice
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup chocolate chips (I prefer dark chocolate)
1/4 cup pumpkin seeds

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Grease muffin cups.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl.  Set aside.

Mix together pumpkin, oil, eggs, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and nutmeg.  Add flour mixture in 3 parts until just combined.  Fold in chocolate chips and pumpkin seeds.

Divide batter among muffin cups.  Bake until puffed and golden brown and wooden pick or skewer inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes.

Cool in pan on a rack five minutes, then transfer muffins from pan to rack and cool to warm or room temperature.

Roasted Brussel Sprouts and Grapes with Pecans

With the arrival of Fall, my favorite magazines have been covered with all sorts of vegetables to roast.  Inspired by the latest cover of Whole Living magazine (November 2011), I did some experimental roasting today and roasted brussel sprouts, red seedless grapes, and pecan halves.  I served it over a plate of quinoa and it was DIVINE.  So healthy and light, but the grapes added just a little bit of sweetness while the roasted pecans had that wonderful nutty meat that we all love.

16 oz. Brussel Sprouts - halved
8 oz. Red Seedless Grapes
1/2 cup of Pecan Halves
2 Tbsp Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees.
In a large mixing bowl, toss brussel sprouts, grapes, and pecans with olive oil.  Season with salt and pepper.  Spread on a baking sheet and roast on the top rack of the oven for 20 minutes.

Top Things to Do in Paris

• Visit Mona at the Louvre.
• Take a night time Seine River Cruise.
• Enjoy some macarons from the creator of them all, Laduree.
• Try escargot -- even if it means that you don't look at it before tasting it.
• When entering an establishment, say Bonjour/Bon soir to the shopkeeper before the shopkeeper says it to you.
• Create a self-imposed chocolate tour and stop in as many chocolate shops as possible for a tasting
• Enjoy a carafe of the house wine.  It's GOOD and CHEAP!
• French kiss a Frenchie.
• Explore the city by walking or renting a bicycle.
• Sit on the outside patio of a cafe with a cup of espresso and people watch.

Top Things NOT to Do in Paris

• Wear sneakers even though you aren't out for an actual run.  This is the fashion capital after all.
• Look for a big American Breakfast!  The French enjoy an espresso and croissant in the morning -- save your big meal for dinner.
• Be shocked at the numerous pick-pocket warnings at all of the popular tourist sites.
• Be in a hurry.

Homemade Energy Bars

4 cups dried organic coconut flakes
5-6 medjool dates (pitted, chopped)
1/4 cup raw sunflower seeds
1/4 cup raw pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/4 cup dried cranberries
3 T flaxseed meal
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 cup agave syrup
1/4 tsp salt

In a high-powered blender, puree the dried coconut flakes until warmed and melted (consistency of coconut butter).  Use a spatula to scoop the coconut mutter into a mixing bowl.  Mix the remaining ingredients. 

Line a bread loaf pan with parchment paper.  Pour mixture in.  Press very firmly into the loaf pan.  Refrigerate overnight.

All Signs Pointed to Paris

Do you ever experience weird coincidences?  Maybe someone tells you about a book that they think you should read and then two days later someone else recommends to you the same book.  I make it a mission to read these signs -- I interpret them as things I'm meant to do.  A sort of divine guidance if you are spiritual about things.

Today, I had such an experience. 

(1)  I was contemplating my upcoming travel plans with a friend.  I want to make a major trip to Asia, but I postponed it year after year to take advantage of shorter trips instead.  Yet, year after year, there was one place that I kept thinking about and hadn't made to yet...Paris.

"Paris isn't so great.  But you should go if you haven't yet," was her response. 

Not so great?!!  The last time I had almost booked a trip for myself to Paris was in 2007.  But while I was in the middle of planning a round-the-world itinerary for myself, I found myself an amazing condo at an amazing deal (once again, the stars were all lined up).  So, my Paris money went towards a downpayment and my Frommers "Paris 2007" guide ended up on a bookshelf of my new condo.

Fast-forward 4.5 years later, I'm reading an article on one of my favorite sites, CrazySexyLife, and (2) the October 6th entry read "We use money stress to keep us from really experiencing life."  *sigh*  She was right.  Now I'm not an advocate of putting yourself in debt, but I was at a point where i could plan a short trip to Paris for myself.  Why continue saying it?  As Nike says, Just Do It!

(3)  A text from Paul tells me excitedly that he and the family are going to Paris in early November...again.

The world was rubbing it in my face.

WTH?!!  That's it.  I started to look up the cost of flights to Paris on Kayak.com.  Maybe Thansgiving weekend would be a good time for me to go?

As I have a lists of prices running across my screen, I get a NEWSFLASH from Travelzoo.  (4)  It's a special for a direct flight to Paris flying business class for the same cost that I was looking up flight on economy class.  The catch...I needed to go in the month of October.  So, I checked my calendar and *click.*

Ladies and gents, in one week from today, I leave for a 4 day tip to Paris!

Race Report: Ragnar Relay Race "Run...Drive...Sleep? Repeat."

I woke up from my slumber and looked at my watch – it said 12am. Tossing my throw blanket aside that I was using as an impromptu sleeping bag, I sat up and stared down the dimly lit high school hallway. Amidst the sea of runners still passed out on the floor, I recognized the two sleeping bodies next to me as my High Cloud teammates Tom and Edgar. We were in the middle of Ragnar after all….

The Ragnar Relay is a running event where a 12-person team runs 200(ish) miles, day and night, relay-style, from Cumberland, MD, to National Harbor. During the relay, each team member runs three legs, each leg ranging between 3-9 miles and varying in difficulty. Only one runner goes at a time. The rest of the teammates are in support duty inside one of the team’s two vans. It’s a relay so as each runner begins, the rest of the crew in the vehicle drives ahead, cheers their runner on, and meets them at the next exchange point to pick them up while dropping off the next runner. After the first six legs, Van #2 takes over with the next six runners. After these six runners go, it’s time for Van #1 to pick up again…and so on…and so on…until 198 miles later, everyone ends up at the finish line. There were 250 teams participating in DC’s Ragnar Relay Race this year.

At the high school, the six of us in High Cloud’s Van #2 were resting up after Leg 1. We stretched and groggily made our way back to the van. It was a moving locker -- stocked with bagels, peanut butter, cookies, Powerade, water, lots of baby wipes, clean clothes, wet stinky clothes, and some slightly muddy sneakers.

Wakey, wakey, you still have two legs left….

We strategized for our next leg as we drove to catch up with Van #1 at the next major exchange. They were currently “on” and the first half of the High Cloud team was putting in miles. I was runner #7 (the first runner in our van) and our second leg was in the pitch dark of the night. Safety first – we were required to wear headlamps, tail lights, and a reflective vest. Running in the dark gave me a lot of incentive to run faster. For fear of the boogieman, I found myself chasing the blinking red tail light of another runner. We were out in the ‘burbs running through neighborhoods that were sane enough to be in bed at this crazy hour. We were the insane ones – running at 2am. The only vehicles to pass me were the other crazy team vans decorated with painted windows and inflatable cartoon characters strapped to their rooftops racing to the next exchange.

Lien, Runner #8, who was just one day beyond her 60th birthday, reviewed her next leg course and asked what a “very hard leg” referred to. She wasn’t a fan of running in the dark, but I explained that it meant it was going to be really hilly. She exclaimed back, “Oh, I love hills! Give me hills.” Later on, she smiled as she ran up a mountain with an elevation gain of 1020 ft.

Edgar, Runner #9, kept staring at me and wondered how much he was drinking when I convinced him to sign up for the race a month ago. Tonight, not only was he a good sport about running despite having a lacrosse injury, he also stood like a Christmas Tree as the women on the team decorated him with glow in the dark necklaces, bracelets, and an earring clip.

Kathleen, Runner #10, went Lady Gaga and had costume changes for each of her legs. Fans of our van were stopping to pose for pictures with her.

Jake, Runner #11, was still a little bitter. His first leg was relatively flat. While he got our longest legs in the van with a total distance of 19 miles, he really wanted HILLS! Jake got his wish when he was assigned to run Sugarloaf Mountain. I drove through the gravelly roads praying that the van would be able to climb up the mountain without ending up in a ditch. On the other hand, Jake was running the trails with little resistance grinning from ear to ear. Seriously, who are these people?!!

We met up with Van #1 again at the next major exchange. This time, Rhyne, our team captain, appeared looking like a shorter version of Rupaul with sneakers. He was wearing a fluorescent green wig and knee high school girl stockings. A clown, a devil, a cowboy, a jester, and a ballerina proceeded to pop out of Van #1.

There were no more team hugs at this hour. We were starting to smell funky after having been trapped in a van for two legs of a run and 22 hours.

Tom, Runner #12, was all smiles as he ran over to hand the team baton, a slap bracelet, to Rhyne who was also Runner #1 on the High Cloud Team.

Those of us in Van #2 wished Van #1 “Good luck and have fun!” and strategized for some real food during our break. You know it’s rough when your idea of gourmet is the International House of Pancakes…and you are actually sober.

Inside the restaurant, there was another party of six seated at the table. One of their runners was passed out with his head on the table. Over breakfast, I stared across at Jake and noticed that if his mouth was not chewing then his eyes were shut for a quick nap. We were all starting to dwindle.

Fuel up, you’ve got one more leg to go….

With one leg left, I stood in the exchange waiting for Jessica, the ballerina and Runner #6 from Van 1, to run towards me with the team slap bracelet. I sprinted through the bustling city of Bethesda with a huge pair of fairy wings on my back and a race bib on the front of my shirt. As I stopped in the crosswalk waiting for the pedestrian sign, drivers would smile and wave.



In a few minutes, I was running back into a parking lot full of white cargo vans and heard my teammates cheering my name. I took the bracelet off and slapped it on Lien’s tiny wrist. After high-fiving the rest of my team, we jumped back into the van to go to the next exchange so that Edgar could have his last turn as well. At this point, my body was begging for Starbucks.

We dropped off Tom for the last leg and sprinted the van to the finish line to meet up with the rest of our team at the National Harbor. All of the exhaustion left our bodies as we were now on elated to almost be done. We greeted each other with smiles and momentarily forgave each other for how bad we each smelled, giving congratulatory hugs once again.

At last, Tom was spotted running down the boardwalk. As a team we picked up our banner and ran towards the big orange Ragnar archways together. The announcer yelled across the microphone, “And now crossing the finish line is Team High Cloud!”

The Ragnar Relay...not just an opportunity to race...it's a moment to convince 11 other friends to take a break from the mundane and laugh through some insanity.

198 miles + 30 hours + 12 runners + 2 vans = ONE CRAZY TIME

What if Supergirl Misplaced Her Cape?

It's funny how you can be doing everything...but still have lost your creativity.  Me losing my creativity is like Supergirl losing her cape.  She can still fly without the cape, but isn't something missing?

How does one go about re-grounding herself when she's been flying for too long?

1)  Reconnecting with family and friends.
2)  Learning to sit still on the couch alone with music in the background.
3)  Taking the time to cook for oneself.  (In addition, to eating healthy meals and drinking lots of water.)
4)  Cleaning and re-organizing.
5)  Targeting to get 8 hours of sleep each night (okay...maybe just 7)
6)  Journaling.
7)  Not booking something for every night of the week on my calendar.

Wish me luck.

No Savageman Today

As I cycled down a wet mountain road while cautiously gripping my brakes so that my back tire wouldn’t skid out from under me, I realized that I probably got a little in over my head…again. 

Triathletes are a sick bunch.  They take joy in overcoming painful challenges.  I appear to be no different.  Though I haven't ridden more than 30 miles in my entire life, I joined an early morning group ride that was going to attack the 56 mile Savageman Half Ironman course.  My "I'll figure it out when I get there" mentality said, "Oh, what the heck – let’s give it a shot!"

I rode the first 18 miles up and down some beautiful paths next to babbling brooks.  However, from the get go, I found myself chasing the group.  In a group ride, if you don’t keep up, you risk getting lost.  Being 3.5 hours from home, I tried hard to at least keep sight of one cyclist.

We came upon our first challenge – Westernport Wall.  This 30% grade cobblestoned climb was a popular training ground.  If you could clear the Westernport Wall without unclipping and continued to complete the SavageMan 70.0 Triathlon, you would be permanently immortalized in triathlon history with a brick engraved with your name laid into the road at the top of the Westernport Wall. 

I looked at Westernport Wall and saw Sarah topple over because she didn't hold her balance just right.  Falling is never the problem.  I assess a situation by how long it takes for someone to get up once they fall.  Sarah sat on the ground for a while measuring the impact of her wounds and realized that the rest of us behind her were less gutsy.  The really experienced cyclists were getting a running start from a block away to gain momentum up the hill.  Since my pride was not at stake -- I got off my bike and starting pushing She-Ra up the hill. 

When I finally reached the top sweaty and breathless, I asked if this was the worst of them all.  Ryan smiled mischievously and said “Don’t believe them when they say this is the only hill.  We’ve still got Savageman Mountain and Killer Miller.”  I wondered if anyone would design a triathlon around a hill named “Fluffy Marshmallow Man.”  It seemed more my speed.

My teammate, Matt, was the only rider behind me.  He had some serious races leading up to this training weekend and they were catching up to him.  I decided to hang back so that he wouldn’t lose track of me.  I wasn’t being generous -- I was tired of chasing anyhow.  He had a cue sheet and the slower pace would help me to survive the entire ride.  Hey…it sucks to lose the group.  But it sucks even more to be by yourself on a long ride. 

By mile 24, I rode ahead of Matt and came to an intersection – left or right?  Left?  Or right?  I decided to wait for the man with the cue sheet.  Once again, it’s better to be lost together than to be lost alone.

We opted to go left and were faced with bigger hills.  My quads began to cramp – both at the same time.  I unclipped and stopped mid-incline.  I could not even bend my legs.  I looked back at Matt and his body was going through the exact same thing.  It took 5 minutes for the cramping to stop.  I was out of water and had no salt tablets.  I hate to quit, but I threw my hands up.  It was about mile 28 and this ride was no longer fun. 

Matt and I stood on the hill considering our options: 

1)  We could push through and ride the remaining 2/3 of the monster. 

2)  We could call for a SAG (Support and Gear) wagon back at camp.

3)  We could rely on the kindness of strangers. 

We pulled out our phones trying to think if anyone would be back at the camp and could pick us up. 

*Beep beep*  No service.

We were so far out in the country that the chances of us having service, someone else having service, or more specifically someone having service that would be able to drive to come get us were slim.  And even worse, how would we be able to tell anyone where we were? 

We walked our bikes up the hill for a good 15 minutes before a truck came clamoring in our direction.  Now was our chance.  Matt waved his arm to flag the couple in the pick up truck down.   

M:  "Hi!  Do you know where the convenience store is?  How about this park?  Oh, 6-7 miles away?"  

S:  "Is it hilly?"

M:  "Wow -- yeah, we've been climbing hills for about 30 miles."  

S:  "We had to stop because we started cramping badly.  Now, we've lost our friends." 

M:  "These hills are treacherous."

S:  "We drank all of our water too.  It sure is hot out here.  So the convenience store is 6-7 miles away?"

M:  "Hmmm...."

Old couple in the pick up truck:  "Umm...do you guys want a ride?"

M&S:  "Wow - you guys are lifesavers!"

We jumped into the bed of the truck with our bikes.  They shared some warm sodas with us and drove us to the next landmark that was on our riding route about 7 extremely hilly miles away.

After Matt and I high-fived another at our smart progress, we looked around to assess our next options.  Our phones still weren’t working.  We didn’t have any coins for the pay phone.  Even if we could call someone, we did not know who else had service, except Matt’s mom who was 5 hours away. 

Matt stopped another two men to ask them about the location of the convenience store on our route.  As they stopped to tell us about its nearby location, Matt and I jumped back into survival mode and repeated the routine that had already worked once.  This time, the men said they were actually headed back towards Deep Creek and could drop us off.  They were driving a truck that could also transport our bikes. 

It was our lucky day.

 “Are your friends going to give you a hard time when you get back?”

Matt responded with, “It was only a training ride.  All in good fun.”  My response was, “This was a more interesting way to get back anyhow.” 

Lessons learned:

·         Don’t let your fear of failure prevent you from testing your limits. 

·         Don’t let your pride keep you from knowing when to call it quits. 

·         Don’t ever leave a buddy behind, especially the one who was smart enough to come prepared with the cue sheet.

Eventually, I plan to come out and give the Savageman trail a try again.  I have no intention of earning a brick, but I want to earn the right to read the sign at the top of the hill that asks,
Who is Miller and why does he hate me so much?"

Like I said, we triathletes are a sick bunch.  I survived this adventure to try again. 

Ben Sollee and His Haunting Cello

Fifteen dollars.  In Clarendon, $15 can buy you three cucumbers, a kale bunch, and sushi roll from Whole Foods or you can walk a block over and give it to the door guy at the Iota Music Club and feed your soul with something good instead.

I had not heard of Ben Sollee before.  However, as I was in a crowd-following mood, I noticed that Iota seemed really popular this particular evening and thought I would go check out what the hype was all about.

A preppy nerd appeared on the stage with his cello.  In high school, this would have been the look you were trying to avoid, but he adjusted his black framed glasses and belted out a tune.  Wow -- no one would dare stuff Ben Sollee's amazing voice.  It's the kind that an audio recording just can't do any justice.   

But then there's his cello.  When he plays a solo on this instrument, it is haunting.  The rest of the room is silent in listening to this eery poem. 

Originally from Kentucky, his music is a blend of bluegrass, folk, and jazz.  But there is something cool, modern, and totally hip about the guy.

Ben Sollee performs as part of a trio.  He's accompanied by Jordon Ellis on percussion and, in this particular show, the fantastic Phoebe Hunt on the fiddle. When you watch her on stage, she has these moments where she just seems like she's in her own world.  The music surges out of her soul.

Ben and troupe are out promoting their newly-released record, Inclusions.  However, if he's passing through your town, go catch his beautiful performance in person.  

I love it when a random night of wandering provides quite a treasure.

Avocado Summer Salad

I love avocado!  This is a great healthy side dish for a summer BBQ.  It is like unmashed guacamole.

2 Avocados
Juice of 1 Lime
Juice of 1 Lemon
1 tsp Cumin
1/2 tsp Garlic Powder
1/2 tsp Adobe Powder
1/4 tsp Sea Salt
1 cup Edamame
1/2 cup Peas (frozen)
1/2 cup Corn (frozen)
1/2 cup Grape Tomatoes
1/4 cup Red Onions


Make the citrus dressing by mixing the lime juice, lemon juice, cumin, garlic powder, adobe powder, and salt.  Pour over the diced avocados.  Add the remaining ingredients.  Allow to sit in the refrigerator to marinade and chill for at least 2 hours.

Serves 6.

Race Report: A Novice Gives Her First Real Tri

DC Triathlon -- Almost 5 months of training and today was the big day.  I woke up at 3:45am, body glided the heck out of myself, put my trisuit on, and grabbed my pre-packed transition bag as I headed out the door for the start of my first triathlon.  After a police-escorted (totally fun) ride through DC from Athlete Registration to the transition area the day before, She-Ra was parked and waiting for my arrival.  I inflated her tires and put all of my gear out.

Swim

At 7:00am, it was time for the Sprint waves to start.  I asked someone to zip up my "race fit" (aka:  really tight) wetsuit, put my goggles on and tucked my hair into my green cap.  I stood in a group with several other women wearing their green caps.  We were permitted to head to the swim start by colored waves (determined according to gender/age group) and jumped off the dock two at a time.  Out of fear of this being my last breath and needing someone to identify my body, I introduced myself to my jumping partner before I plunged into the murky Potomac River.

When I resurfaced, I was gleeful realizing that I wasn't getting kicked in the face by the hundred other athletes who could swim faster than me.  Instead, by jumping two at a time, we could get out of the way before the next set of swimmers made their plunges as well.   

I swam towards my first large orange buoy.  It was as big as my urban bedroom in a town where square footage is at a premium.  It didn’t matter if you broke your prescription-goggles right before the race, these were not to be missed. 

After spending the past 6 weeks in a series of panic attacks whenever I hit the water, I shamelessly admit that I spent half of my swim in a calm-inducing backstroke and 30 seconds hanging off the side of one of the safety kayaks "de-fogging my goggles."

Relief brought a huge smile to my face when I scrambled back onto the dock after completing 800 meters.  I banana-peeled myself out of my wetsuit and ran back to the transition area to grab She-Ra.

Bike

With my helmet strapped on, I ran through the grass in my wobbly cleats towards the beginning of the start line.  All of the USAT rules ran through my head while I rode down the street yelling, "On your left please."  It's cyclist-polite for "Get out of my way!"  

Speed demon, right?  Wrong.  I watched an athlete pass me while riding with no hands on his handlebars.  Oh well, at least I was outriding SOME people.

I came across my first hairpin U-turn.  I had to be totally controlled while hoping that everyone knew what they were doing too.  I liked it!  I grunted while trying to stand on my pedals to get them going quickly again.  You know...because I think I'm a speed demon!

Then, the purrr of a motor came up from behind.  I checked my position since I knew a race official was on the back of that motorcycle.  Just like when you pass a police car on the highway, you automatically slow down even though you have no idea what your actual speed is, I automatically slid to the side to make sure it didn't even remotely look like I was drafting behind anyone.  Officer, I swear I sneezed and accidentally ended up behind the other bike in perfect alignment.  I was not drafting!

Run

All of the technical hairpin U-turns on the bike were a lot of fun.  However, it's just not as much fun in running.  Out and back, out and back, out and back, out and back…at one point, I found myself apologizing to the runners around me for cursing after realizing there was yet another out and back to go through. 

Sometimes you are faced with that imminent life-changing fork in the road of life.  I came across that fork this day.  Sprint or International?  Sprint please!  I followed the Sprint distance fork in the road as if I was sliding down the Rainbow Trail shortcut in a game of Candyland.  Weeeee....

Finish line  

Friends and family greeted me at the finish line.  For their patience, they each got a huge sweaty hug.  I collected my medal and thought to myself...boy, I'm glad that's done! 

Lifetime List of Things to Do:  Complete a Triathlon.  *Check!*

Just give me a few days before I decide on my next race. 

Some People Get a Bike Fitting and Don't Need One...

Then, some of us don't get a bike-fitting, but apparently need one.  I'm in the latter.

Since I am a begginer cyclist, I did not know if it would be worthwhile to get a professional bike-fitting yet, but all the stars happened to line up just right so that I won one in a raffle drawing.

I brought my bike over and spent 3 hours with Josh Frick at CycleLife in Georgetown getting measured, analyzed by a computer, tested on my flexibility, and observed on my riding technique.  I left the process with a lot more knowledge about my own physical makeup -- for example, the reason my left foot is even more flat-footed than my right foot is because my left leg is about 6 mm longer than my right leg (for real?).  He raised my seat BY INCHES and changed out my handlebars so I was no longer doing a push-up trying to straddle the bars for dear life.  The result was that my upper body felt much more open.  In addition, with my legs stretched out to an efficient length, my cadence improved by 10%.

(Holy crap!)  They weren't kidding when they said a professional bike-fitting would be worth it. 

Thanks, CycleLife and Josh!

Posse

In Costa Rica, there was "Pura Vida." 

In Haiti, it is "Posse."  This means "Chillin" and is a perfect word for a state of mind here. 

Sak pase?  Posse.

On the drive back from Jacmel, our van was hit with a torrential rainpour.  The roads turned into shallow rivers.  Umbrella-less pedestrians rolled their pantlegs up and covered their heads with whatever they had...showercaps, handtowels, plastic sheets....  Cars, vans, and trucks pretended to be Haitian boats and trudged slowly along.

I watched three men piled on one motorcycle fall into the water when the bike went up in an accidental wheelie.  My vanmates laughed and the poor guys luck.  Then, *THUD* our van hit a pothole.  Karma for our laughter hit us 40 minutes later when we were stranded on the side of the road.  Our driver scooped rainwater up to poor into our overheated engine.

After having been crammed into the van for 3 hours, I rolled out of the van with some of my vanmates.  We realized we were at least two hours from home.  There was nothing we could do, but posse.

So, we participated in our favorite pasttime while waiting for our engine to cool...we opened some Prestige and waved at Blancs as they drove by.  Did you know that the door latch in the side panel of a van door makes a perfect bottle opener?  After a couple of beers, it was a fun evening. 

Poossssseeeeee!!!

Trinity House and the Stinkin' Cute Kids

A daytrip to Jacmel brought a welcome break.  It was my first trip to Trinity House, the third home in the St. Joe’s Family trio.  Trinity House is a home for 25 former boy slaves.  It is also a daytime school to 110 of the neighboring children, many of whom may still be in current child slave situations.  Trinity House provides two meals, an education, and clean clothes to children who may otherwise be in situations where this is not provided.

I took a tour of the school and disrupted the classrooms with some candy breaks.  As soon as I walked into the courtyard, several gleeful five year olds rushed towards me – each with the goal to grab one of my hands.  They looked at me with wide eyes and huge smiles.  This is what amazes me about the Haitian people.  It does not matter how little they have, they are happy for what they do have.  

One look at these innocent smiles and you wanted to empty your pockets into the school.  They chased me around from room to room.  They wanted your return smile and approval.  It was the least I could give them.

A tour of the facility included the bakery and neighboring land where the Trinity House plans to expand its coffee operation and living quarters to house more children/volunteers.  Now, what does a bakery and coffee have to do with impoverished children?  Trinity House is fortunate to have many American supporters to help provide its funding.  However, Michael wants Trinity House to provide an income for itself as well.  As a result, they are building a bakery and teaching the people how to professionally bake, roast and bag coffee, and also manage a business. 

Two hours later, a fresh baguette and loaf of bread were hot from the oven and ready for me to bring back home.  A whiff of it told me they would be divine.  In addition, the bakery manager gave me her email so that I could send recipes to help grow the business.  I wish them lots of success as they teach the community something new that also will continue to give back to the Jacmel community.

I mean...really...how could you NOT want to help these guys?

No Blanc Here

For entertainment, I sat on a stoop by the main road, drinking Prestige (the local beer), while watching people drive in and out of town with some volunteers and a Haitian worker of the organization we were volunteering at.  Every time we saw a fellow Blanc drive by, we would wave and raise our beers. 

The term Blanc in Kreyol means foreigner.  In French, the literal translation is White.  I think the French translation is more applicable however; as an Asian Woman, I’ve never heard the word “Blanc” being chased after me like it does my Caucasian counterparts in Haiti.  The Blancs tend to draw more attention.  I just get a lot of curiosity about my origination. 

It’s a daily debate that I get into – often more than once a day:

Haitian: "Where you from?"

Me: "The U.S."

Haitian: "You look Japanese or Chinese."

Me: "My family is from Thailand."

Haitian: "Yes, that's what I thought. So, what is your language?"

Me: "English."

Haitian: "No, I don't think so."

I have come to realize that in a country that is predominantly of one race (everyone else is a Blanc), the idea of America the Mixing Bowl is quite foreign.  I have had people accept that I’m Italian (“Thailand” apparently sounds like “Italian”), tell me that I must speak Spanish (something non-English), and flat out tell me that I’m lying before they can accept that I am from the US and English is my primary language.

As a result, on a daily basis, I have learned to change my response from claiming that I am from China to finally explaining that I was born in the US.  Luckily, two for two, the latter finally seems to stick and I am getting fewer looks of confusion now.

Regardless, when someone says Chinwa, I know they are talking about me.

Yon Retou Pou Ayiti (A Return to Haiti)

I marched up the stairs of Wings of Hope and found the children on the patio during their Friday prayer service.  A lull of silence came over the children as they turned to observe yet another new strange volunteer in their midst. 

“Eske ou sonje mwen?”  I asked.  David looks at me and a huge grin comes across his face as the recognition sets in.  He squeals in laughter and begins to touch my hair which has grown in the past six months. 

As an adult, when you haven’t seen a friend in a few years, you commonly say, “You haven’t changed a bit!”  However, in the life of children, 6 months can bring significant changes.  They grow taller, fatter, can become more talkative, and just overall grow up.

Frank Ely and Steve have gotten taller.  Otherwise, they are the same mischievous boys who like to dance around the room and make a bit of commotion.

Little Belinda looks thinner.  Though she doesn’t look it, Belinda is four.  She was never a good eater, but a loss of a pound or two when you don’t even weigh 20 lbs can be significant. 

Lazar has a little girlfriend, named Alison.  I have yet to meet Alison, but he blushes when you mention her name. 

My autistic buddies, Kelly and John, seem to have flourished.  They were pretty emotionless when I met them last Fall.  This Spring, I have seen more smiles on John in one day than I saw on his face during my entire last trip.  Kelly is also a lot more interactive than he used to be.  You can talk to him and engage him for a bit before he re-enters his own world.

David is more comfortable being mobile in his wheelchair.  On my last visit, he preferred to hop around on the floor, but now he’s speedy enough in the wheelchair to prefer its use. 

Vivian is still in love with Walnes.  She still brings his pictures out and writes his name in her notebooks.

This band of societal castoffs that have been bound together to form their own family unit impresses me.  BJ makes the other boys laugh by using one of his few controlled muscles, his mouth, to oddly bit a wheelchair handle of another child.  Sadraque and Raoul have long conversations about the beach through slurred speech, nodding, and grunting.  Lazar grunts for me to give his unfinished lunch to Gesner to finish.  It is the compassion that these special-needs children show for one another that truly makes them special to all those who are lucky enough to meet them.

Open Water

Remember that 2003 movie “Open Water” about two scuba divers accidentally stranded in shark infested waters after their tour boat left?  I thought those fools were idiots for straying so far away from the tour group.

Well, there’s nothing accidental about me being in open water as I train for my first triathlon.  My immediate reaction in the lake was – Why did you think this was a good idea, you idiot?

Four buoys outlined a 500 meter course in Lake Anna.  The stage was set for me to swim around each one before coming back to shore.  On my way to the first buoy, I began to panic when I realized that I could not touch the ground anymore.  After several choice words came from my lips, the first rational word that popped in my head was actually “duathlon.”
 

I had a back up plan in case I freaked out during an open water swim -- I would float on my back until I calmed down before swimming further.  Of all of my swim lessons, that was the only information that seemed to stick because all of the techniques and drills my swim coach taught me practically went out the door during this anxiety attack.  I created my own rhythmic pattern:  6 freestyle strokes, 4 backstrokes, 2 doggie paddles, 2 breast strokes, repeat.  It wasn’t getting me to the next buoy efficiently or quickly; however, it was getting me to the next buoy.

Those 20 minutes in water felt like 2 hours.  However, I knew that I had to keep going or I would never be able to finish a triathlon.  So pick -- duathlon or triathlon?  I chose triathlons and decided to keep going.