Thursday, December 28, 2017

NMN 2017

Who is this hippopatamus? They certainly have a wonderful taste for pop music from the 70's. It's like listening to a fine bottle of wine from 1977 but you find out it's actually from 1969.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Forbes was born on Friday

Got the email from Bill D on Thursday- “I’ve got 2 bikes ready for you”.

Friday I’m dropping Elmer off at Seatac so of course we have to get breakfast first.
Glo’s closed...  guess it’s no longer open 24h. So we go to Seatac Denny’s. Just can’t get over the menu- eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, toast, pancakes dripping with something sugary and buttery and unlimited coffee all for $9. The challenge was finding something under 1000 calories. Well my heart won’t be broken if we had to go to Denny’s again. Then off to the dentist to get the barnacles scraped off, meeting the organizer to throw away 4 bags of clothes now too small for me, groceries, doctor appt, before heading off to Fremont to see the boys.

Still had this weird guilt about the new bike. Yes I "paid" for him but somehow I didn't "earn" it. It never bothered me before, to have a bike way beyond my skill level, but two of the same bike? The new bike was beautiful, but all I could see was Davey, now clean but somehow sad. I had initially hoped to get Davey back in time for RSVP and P2P but apparently he was not in good shape. Handlebars were dented, pedals were missing, basically stripped down with a different saddle. I found it curious they had the means to switch out the pedals and the saddle.

I heard the full story about how he was recovered. Apparently the rescuer was a UPS driver and avid cyclist who kept seeing Davey in a homeless camp while on his deliveries in West Seattle. The first time he thought, "that’s weird". The next time he thought "that titanium Davidson with couplers does not belong there, someone is missing their pride and joy". So he decides to throw the bike into the back of his van with the intent of returning to rightful owner. After making the rounds with Davey in tow, he kept the bike at home until Bill drove to his house one evening and picked him up. Apparently they had a nice chat and he even took a photo with his family, Bill, and Davey.

The new bike was so light, my arm practically flew in the air when I went to lift it up. He looked a bit like Davey’s son, the younger, faster, modern version of something once great. What would I name him? There was already Davey and Billy. Well there’s still the middle name, “Forbes”.

He also told me a story of a woman he knows whose car was stolen off their driveway, and on recovery, the keys were in the front seat. Did my tendency to self-sabotage extend to leaving Davey unprotected in case someone might steal him the night before RAMROD? We discussed tubeless tires a bit before he helped me load both bikes into the Beast.

Saturday morning the weight of 40+ delinquent charts and who knows how many unanswered messages from Friday weighed on me. All I wanted to do was lie in bed all day drinking and playing candy crush, but I had more important tasks at hand.

After 3 hour run to “cram” for Quadzilla,
and quick trip to REI to get new pedals/ saddle bag, I took Forbsie out for a spin around Mercer.

I was waiting for something to be off, but I felt like it immediately clicked into place. My Garmin was dying but I did get to see a couple times how easy it was to go 50% faster. My immediate thought was, is this bike self-propelling? Did Bill secretly install an e-bike mechanism in there out of pity? Up those hills without even switching to the small front cog, and still many to go even while coasting downhill. Yeah people still passed me but it I was going up hills without leaving the saddle, with no burn in my legs.

I don't know if Davey would have also felt like that after a season of riding Billy but there was no way to feel bad about Forbsie joining the family. You can't feel anything bad when the wind is in your face and scenery with colorful leaves flying by.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Oct Grapefruit

Yup, that's Yelm. Roundtrip, it's 55.5 miles from my apt. in Oly. It's the farthest bike ride I've done in a while, but more importantly it's my Oct. grapefruit...

Yesterday, had awesome sushi, made some fresh rolls, watched some Italian cooking shows, and an America's Test Kitchen episode about stews, and then made Gerald watch Silverado. Gonna make First Class watch it too, next time we meet-up...

Then this morning enjoyed the usual Bread Peddler, and then off on the bike. Gorgeous weather. All in all, Bill Gates didn't have a better weekend. Also, as a bonus, I got a Delfino's pizza too!

Sunday, October 1, 2017

2017 New Music November - Grapefruit Challenge - 2018 D.C.

It's October 1st. That means start compiling your 2017 New Music November Playlists. This year is straightforward. Just pick 15 songs and a 12 letter animal. Email me your playlist by end of November...

Grapefruit Challenge. I'm challenging Gerald & myself to do 6 grapefruits. That is Oct, Nov, Dec, Jan, Feb, and March. Just get out for a bike ride each month. Hopefully next weekend we'll get in a Yelm grapefruit for October...

Finally, block your calendars for sometime in February. Looking to take the 2018 D.C. back to Manzanita, OR, where it belongs...

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Oh Canada (part II)

I. Fatdog 120 (Manning Park BC, Aug 11-12, 2017)

After Francine paced me at Lean Horse 100 last year, I knew I owed her big time. It was my first 100 in over 4 years and I was too aware, the depth of my despair, that few people, especially those to whom whining is anathema, have had to endure.

Fatdog 120 is one of the top 9 toughest ultra marathons in north America with an elevation gain of 8673 m, just short of Everest at 8848 m. it has a 48h time limit and usually pretty aggressive weather. If not torrential rainstorms with temps near freezing (Fracine's first year DNF at mile 110) or hot/ humid/ buggy near 100F (Francine's 2nd year, with a broken arm), and very remote, at times >4 hours between aid stations and >3 hours from the nearest city. But also the most scenic. At 60 and after 2 other attempts, Francine just wanted to get it done.

I offered to pace her but being "direct", she knew how bad I am on trails and offered me leg 5 which is the "easy" flat leg, miles77-99. If I could just get her to aid station 6 by cutoff, she would have 10 hours to do the last 21 miles, no problem.

I took an extra day off work but it turns out, she didn't need me until Saturday, so I spent Thursday visiting Bill at the bike shop. It had been over a month since Davey's demise, and we met to discuss his replacement. I felt a little bit like I was talking to a counselor. "So how many times did you did the couplings?" I had to admit, none since Ventoux. Couplings add weight. Triples no longer exist. Bike parts are lighter and faster (and more expensive) now. Did I want a bigger front ring (given how I just gave Billy easier gearing) or disk brakes? Durace doesn't last, but I have no qualms about getting all the help I can get.

Drove up to Hope BC and though about what it must be feeling to climb 1000s of feet of trail, got sweaty just walking around the town, still a lot of smoke from fires.

Found some snickers bars that were too a propos (and bilingual no less...)  Next morning I started doing charts at 6 AM then got a call from Francine's husband Hendrik (crew extraordinaire). We caught some amazing views- the smoke makes the mountains seem even more distant.
and sat around waiting, saw a bunch of extremely fit runners looking haggard after day 1 of 90 degree temps and smoke.

I find out she actually has no other pacers and the prospect of pacing her to the end is exciting. But we are both realistic that there is a possibility that I would be a liability rather than a help, since there is no other way down from the mountain but finishing the trail but I'm ok if she ditches me. First year she got to aid station 5 by 2 pm, but this year she got there by 2:30. I am pleased to find she took up my habit of cornstarch and trail toes for the feet, got her some some broth and food, before taking off.

The course was well-marked but she was constantly anxious about missing course markers- you do not want to do bonus miles at this point.
There was a fair amount of bush-whacking and she tripped on some roots, breaking one of her poles. I felt soooo helpful offering up my poles, but then was kicking myself for not carrying my DEET spray as the sun went down and the most aggressive mosquitoes in the PNW came. I felt like I was wearing a shirt of mosquitoes, truly. Got bitten in places without knowledge of how the mosquitoes got there.
Saw these guys running with bee-keeper masks ($2.99 from Canadian Tire) and I thought brilliant.

We made the last cutoff (midnight for leg 5) and I asked to keep going with her for leg 6, and she asked me to lead. It was up, up, and up switchbacks and the mosquitoes were not taking a break just because it was 1 AM. then despite the caffeine, I started getting drowsy. Drowsy + palpitaitons. I told Francine to keep going and I took a few naps standing up. Then the sun came up and I started running again, this time able to see the wildflowers I was running through.

Then it started to rain. Not much, and it was actually welcome given the smoke/ heat of the previous day and not too cold but if there were an option for shortcut, believe me I would've taken it. Bless those aid station workers who were there through the night with snacks, water, and Royal Crown (and weed).

The last 5 miles were pretty brutal but I strolled in under the cutoff, not knowing that Francine who had been an hour ahead of me had back spasms and nearly didn't make it, but Monte helped her stretch and they finished 10 minutes before me, 20 minutes before cutoff. I am proud to wear the T-shirt (though I only did 43 miles of it in 30 hours, whereas the women's winner finished 120 in 31 hours), as it's the closest I'll ever come to a "hard core" trail run, pacing Francine who is now her age group record holder.

II. Weekend with Billy (RSVP Aug 18-20, 2017)

So Dyno sends me a text, a post he saw on some biking site

I had filed a police report, insurance claim, essentially had Daveys funeral a month prior. A week later Bill D. actually drove to the guy's house to pick up Davey. Never got to thank him.

Already plunked a hefty deposit on Daveys replacement and apparently the new bike was still going to happen regardless of Davey's return. "We will have some work to get Davey back in good condition... Davey was not well- treated while he was lost". Parts missing, some cleanup, but he will be back.

Luckily got Billy back the week before, no offense to Raul, but a 185 mile road ride would be easier on Billy.

RSVP has been on my list for years. Was so sad to DNS it 2 years ago, but this time weather perfect. It would've the longest ride with Billy so far, and with new easier gearing! Major procrastination but managed to get to UW and my gear on the truck (without getting my bike stolen)

Had periods of lolligagging by myself and periods of tagging on to random trains but people on bikes aren't too chatty. I miss pacelining- effortlessly going 5 mph faster.

Billy was so smooth, the miles flew by, and I had my ride with gps and garmin after all my troubles with the other rides. I heard RSVP was less crowded and hillier than STP.

Well I guess there were fewer cars but still loooong lines for everything, which seems typical of Cascade rides.

After training for RAMROD I couldn't believe how leisurely it was, even on my "heavy" bike.  Had not ridden at all since my DNS at RAMROD (despite getting Raul cleaned up), was in a major depressive funk. Emailed the rd about my list bike. His reply?

Unfortunately, you are not the first person to have their bike stolen just prior to the ride.  Every year, many people lose their opportunity to ride because of unfortunate circumstances including injury, family matters and/or employment issues.  I am afraid we cannot carry over a registration to next year.  What we can do is provide you with a preference point that will increase your chances (but not guarantee them) if you enter the lottery next year... Good luck next year

They moved the last aid station to 5 miles from Bellingham. A high school girl yelled out, " sir, you look like you could use refreshment". How deflating. Day 1 105 miles 4000 ft a ton of time to kill.

I was feeling a bit antisocial and bailed on the boundary bay brewery party. Did one with red-bell years ago. Not that fun alone and didn't want to wait in another line. I've done hundreds of runs alone but for some reason, rides are pretty lonely.

Next morning another beautiful day. Ass sore but 20 miles in I couldn't believe how easy the ride was but I knew there were still 2300 ft elevation to come. We hit a few 12 % hills and was able to get up, but knew RAMORD would've been impossible for me with Billy in his old gearing. Hoped to get Davey back before P2P - is this how cheaters think, fantasizing about another while on a perfectly good ride?

Closer to Vancouver there were tons of cyclists and traffic especially in the park. The finish was a bit anticlimactic knowing I had to wait 3 hours to load the bike onto the truck and still had 20 hours until heading home.  Got 2 bottles of wine (separate liquor store even for wine)  in case 1 was not enough, and had my food truck noodles watching Canadian cable. Wished I had my computer though I knew as soon as I got home procrastination would begin again.

Despite sleeping 12 hours I was able to doze on the bus which was stuck in traffic. The guys sitting behind me on the bus talking about local bike makers and pontificating about the upcoming eclipse. Another check off the bucket list.

Friday, July 28, 2017

Out of luck (aka "I was robbed and they kidnapped Davey) (July 16-27, 2017)

Translation: unintentional DNS at RAMROD. 

I’m not usually one to prep for races in advance. It says something about my level of anxiety that I showed an unusual amount of preparation last week, that I went to get a front light and uploaded bikewithgps routes for RAMROD. My fat to fitness ratio was not what I had hoped for 4 months ago. 

I had hoped my "altitude training" and rest would help me, but I just seemed to get worse and worse. I was anxious about the last big training ride with the Hill Yes! boys, especially the day after running/ jogging the Trials Legacy marathon in Oly. An ambitious ride starting in Lynden and going to Mt. Baker, 115 miles 8189 ft elevation gain. 

Lynden is a beautiful town near the Canadian border, we stopped for coffee at a place fitting the Dutch theme while the rest of the group arrived.
Everyone had done RAMROD a bunch of times before, other than one guy, and this climb was apparently very similar to the first climb of RAMROD.

The start was pretty nice, and hanging in the pack chatting on the flats while looking at scenery was awesome. But as soon as the climbs started, I was like a rock sinking in the ocean. They were nice and waited at the tops of the hills
but I kept begging them to leave me because I threatened their getting done with the course in good time. Once the climbing started I got so far back I got lost and finally I convinced them I would be OK, which I was, though I had to ride with one hand holding my iPhone to navigate. I felt a lot less pressure having to keep up with them, got to take in views, smell some flowers,

was able to fix yyet another front flat, but decided to turn around at the 55 mile mark thinking that would get me a century ride in at least. Missed the key part of the climb (only did 4725 ft elevation over 96 miles) but I had more in the tank. It was just a matter of making those cutoffs.

Then I had a bit of a mini-meltdown last weekend at what was to be a relaxing "wind down" ride, 56 miles 2265 ft, the 15th group training ride of the Ramrod Training Series, when I got dropped like a bucket of lard by the pack, essentially at the first climb. Despite all my resting, my legs were unreasonably tired, felt like they were 500 lbs each and made of lead. 

I cut the loop short and called Elmer in tears. If I can't do the "cool down ride", how would I survive the real thing? 

His advice? Drop Ramrod. This made me even sadder. I had a similar reaction to being told I was not cut out to be an academic or a leader or a musician or supermodel or insert whatever. F* that, I’ll show them. Only 3 months later to realize they were right, in some cases I realized I was pushing for someone else's ideal or just wasn’t my cup of tea. I felt that was why I had 6 DNFs at 100 milers (runs), and I trained myself not to care, and once that happened I could finish. Contrary to everything I was taught, I had to learn not give a S* to succeed.

But this is different. I can’t explain why I want it. I can’t not give a S* at least not yet. Ask me again when I fail 3 times. But I just wanted the chance to try. 

So after meeting Elmer for Glos, eastside ride, and Dim sum, I head to Redmond to pick up my RAMROD packet and add another 30 miler from Marymoor. I found this awesome route by none other than the illustrious E. Gierke. The hay was now either in the barn or it wasn't.

Anyway last night I was pretty proud of myself, got Davey all dressed and tires pumped and into the back of my car the night before. Plenty of people were out and about, this being one of those busy weeks for the church next door. But it was in my locked SUV with tinted windows, I’d done it before….

I took a sleeper since I had to get up at 2:30 to leave home by 3:30. Somehow I managed to be a little later than planned, getting into my car at 3:40. I could still make it to Enumclaw by 4:45 and make the 5 AM start.

I got into the car and saw a pair of gloves and cd boxes on the driver seat. Hmmm I didn’t recall looking for anything last night, but I am a slob so it didn’t seem weird. I started the car but the internal lights would not turn off. No indicator lights were on. I got out and checked all the doors, and in fact one of the rear doors was partially open. Guess I didn’t close it fully after emptying groceries yesterday. I headed down the highway and when I turned off I felt something was off. I didn’t hear the usual rattling in the back of the car. I thought, noooo, but it was true, no bike in the back.

I racked my 4 am brain. I clearly remembered loading the bike last night. Or did I? In any case I wasn't going to get far with no bike so I turned home. Theoretically I could still get home by 5:30 and back to Enumclaw by 6:45, and maybe still get to start.

But I knew the truth before I got home. No bike in garage. It had been stolen. My car had been broken into. I dug into the glove compartment further and saw my bag of parking $ was also gone.

My steel bike was in the shop, I hadn’t imagined I would need it so soon.

Of all the things that could go wrong for RAMROD- not getting in, bad weather, injury, this?

I was clearly being punished. I actually questioned whether my unfitness led me to unconsciously behave as to accidentally get Davey stolen. Well being undertrained never kept me from pressing my luck with stuff that was too hard for me before…. But oddly I can’t shake the feeling it’s somehow my fault. Everything bad is my fault and everything good is luck.

I call the police but they are not open at 5:30 AM. I should go to the grocery but TJs doesn’t open until 8 and I went to Safeway yesterday. S* I have to stay sober until 7. So I start writing (BRS, not work mind you). I emailed Davidson who advised me to call my insurance company. Many phone calls later, I got a tired but sympathetic cop to file a report what won’t go anywhere, put an ad on Craigslist for a “no questions asked” reward for Davey, filed an insurance claim, put myself on the list for Davey II and ordered replacements for accessories.

Got a group text from the Hill Yes boys. Another successful RAMROD for them, on a perfect weather day. They sympathized about Davey but at this point I wasn’t sure which I was sadder about, losing Davey or losing RAMROD. I explained to my sister J who is a professional musician, I was attached to Davey a bit like my Powell flute. Yes it's just a luxury item but after 9 years and many miles together, blood sweat and tears, I have a strong sentimental attachment to it even if I don’t ride hundreds of miles anymore. But a bike can be replaced. RAMROD 2017 can never happen for me, and at my rate, will I ever get the chance again?

I’m ridiculously torn up I don’t know why. My gratefulness for all I have just reinforces the ridiculousness of my first world problems. 

But a loss is a loss. Time moves on and experience can never be replaced. Regret is almost the same as guilt in my book. RIP Davey...

Done crying (for today). Going for a run now. Back to work tomorrow.


(late entry: Inca Trail marathon (Cusco- Machu Picchu- Lima Peru, July 1-10, 2017) 

My Canadian Twin Susan periodically texts me that she just signed up for some crazy race. Usually this prompts a sigh or mini-oculogyric episode from me, but when I heard about the Inca Trail marathon it took me less than 5 seconds to answer, “I’m in”.

I had only a vague idea of the Inca Trail or Machu Picchu, but it’s been on my list since reading about Peru on JDKs blog. But since I'm lazy, I wouldn't go there unless there was a race and some company or a tour, I am not one to skip opportunities when they fall on my face.

I learn later, it is usually a 3.5 day hike with 2 mountain passes, uneven stone steps, peak altitude of 13,800 ft (guessing ~10,000 ft elevation). Even in a group of marathon runners, ~1/3 take 2 days to finish. I have virtually no trail running miles this year, and no marathons in the month before (due to RAMROD training) but my capacity for denial is even greater than my pain tolerance. 
Cusco is at >11,000 ft altitude and it was a little scary that I felt SOB (short of breath) just walking up 2 flights of stairs with my overstuffed duffel. It is a beautiful city covered with rainbow flags (their symbol, not a perpetual pride parade). Got try some weird local fruit and gigantic breads at San Pedro market, 

We had amazing local tours including Sacred Valley, Pisaq,

haggling with children in the middle of nowhere, eating boiled gigantic corn with salty cheese, 

And the obligatory hugging/ feeding llamas, learning the differences between llamas, alpacas, vicunas and guanacos.

A group of us decide to ditch White Water rafting to see Rainbow Mtn, a fairly new destination with crazy striped color mountains. It was a long day, getting up at 3:30 AM and riding an overcrowded van 3 hours each way, driving through small towns and cliffside switchbacks, ears popping, blaring first Peruvian music then Led Zeppelin, and stopping for breakfast and to pick up some smelling potion in case the tourists got altitude sickness...

I got a little paranoid because our "guide" who didn't speak English was coughing sneezing on me the whole ride (memories of Comradeds II). I had to stop several times to rest on the 10k out and back hike which started at 14,000 ft and went to 17,000 ft, which the locals in their traditional costumes, though all under 5’ ft tall they make look easy. I was properly scared of the Inca trail after that.

After than more sightseeing at ancient Inca ruins like Saksay waman (pronounced “sexy woman”, like Cusco is pronounced "Costco", the Quechua language of the Incas apparently resembles English more than Spanish”), 
and Ollantaytambo, learned about inca engineering and their philosophy about rocks (they have feelings so they don't cut off all the protuberances),
how those gigantic steps keep people in crops who have torrential rain for 6 months and grey haze for 6 (hmmm maybe I should have some built for my yard….) Saw Jesus (Cristo del Pacifico -¾ the size of the one in Rio),
before returning to Cusco and the complicated task of packing for the race. I realize with horror that the water bladder I had brought was broken and my pack too small to hold bottles, but there are high end mountain stores in town open until 9 pm so I got new gear- whew!

The Peruvian government regulates the number of daily hikers/ porters and you have to get through security gates on the way in and out, and passports are required. The ~6 mile “flat” hike from km 82 to the campsite at the race start was beautiful but it was rocky and not flat.

Once we got there the RD reviewed the course, which we had learned about at the race briefing. It sure looked different in life than on paper, where he points to a “little hill” and we all have to crane our heads to look at the sky. OK I was really really scared now.

We camped and the next morning were ready to go by 5 AM in the dark. I hung in the back so as not to get run over by fast people. Trouble is, pretty soon I lost the headlights of the pack and was in last place with the sweeper Franco, whose headlight didn’t work and who didn’t speak English. We wandered around, went all the way to the river, up another embankment, finally bush-whacked through a field to find the bridge to the path, and by then the leaders were already coming back from the first 4.4km. 

I had lost >10 min which I could not afford. I kept moving but knew already I couldn’t get over the mountain to the first cutoff at 5.7km in under an hour, which meant I was diverted off the 2nd out-and-back which was actually not part of the Inca trail but added to make the distance 26.2M. I didn’t really mind since there is a clause in the rules that you still get a finish but add a time penalty of 1.5 hours for the lost 5.5 km, but I know several runners who wanted it to “count” for their 7 continents wanted to make sure they did a full distance. I never understood those weirdos who will run laps around a parking lot when their garmin says 25.8 miles at the end of a “marathon”. 

Anyhow, I was under the delusion that I could now “relax” because I was now an hour ahead of the pack, and though the leaders lapped me, it was a clear day and the trail though steep was not too technical. Took a ton of pics, was wowed by porters carrying huge packs and wearing cheap shoes leaping like antelopes down the path,
“vamos vamos”-attempted to chat in Spanish with locals who offered me cacao leaves which apparently cure everything from altitude sickness to headaches but taste like ass and may cause your urine to test positive for cocaine, bought overpriced (though still really cheap) coca cola from old ladies in traditional dress.
The leading women passed me toward the end of Dead Woman’s Pass, because as soon as the descent started, they were flying and I was crab walking it one foot at a time with my trekking poles due to my bum knee. I may be the only person who descends slower than I climb at altitude. I started to worry that I might not make the 1st day cutoff. 

At the last aid station before the gate the volunteers were cheering us on as they filled our bottles with 100+ degree water. They said I was fine, they would keep the gate at Winay Wayna open until 4 pm. Normally they close this gate at 3:15, since most hikers take 1:45 to do the last 5km, and they close Machu Picchu at 5. But with a little bribing of government officials and convincing them that “runners” can do it faster, they usually keep the gate open until 3:30-3:40. 3 other runners zoomed past me on the downhill, the last was K, a 27 year old doing her first marathon), all smiles since she was also told they were keeping the gate open until 4.

I got there at 3:50 and there were a bunch of security guards and race guides standing next to the gate. “The gate is closed”. My heart sank. I had missed the first cutoff and now I’d have to camp anyway, all cold and wet, until 8 the next morning. I can’t remember if I started crying or just whimpered “please”. Cesar, our guide said, “go – go- we’re already in trouble with the government”, and “if you see the other girl, tell her to talk to the lady at the gate”. 

I wasn’t sure what that meant at the time, and I was low on water, but I took off like a bat out of hell. I had 65 minutes to do the 5k that normally takes people 1:30-1:45 minutes. I was finally all alone on the trail, I could hear my heavy breathing and feel my heart pounding, which got worse after I ran out of water. Was getting exponentially slower or were the hills actually steeper? Was I going to get stuck on the mountain overnight with no camp or water? 

Then I passed the sun gate and saw the camp and knew I would make it- there was no gate. 
I glimpsed Machu Picchu and it was breathtaking.
I stopped a lady to take my photo. She didn’t know how to use an iphone so that was probably another 5 minutes I didn’t need to kill, but just downhill the last runners who passed me after the aid station were all there at the finish. 12:15 (with penalty 13:45), and I get to shower and sleep in the hotel! (and beeeer!)

Later I find out they had re- opened the gate for several runners, 2 moms whose kids/ spectators were waiting, a guy carrying an engagement ring wanting to propose to his girlfriend (who was the women’s winner), and when K came along, they told her to wait while they talked to the guards, but she took off and scaled a 6 ft fence to bypass the gate and bushwhacked it back onto the trail. So when I came along 5 minutes later (another Asian chick), they were looking for her and had already opened the gate for her, so they let me through.

Next day I saw Susan (who was only 30 min behind me at the last gate so had to camp, but made the first cutoff) and LiChym, along with the 8 other campers who apparently were treated to grilled trout, individual tents, 3 sleeping bags apiece and amazing views camping at Winay Wayna. They hiked down as a group and we did our tour of Machu Picchu and had trout pizza, llama steaks, and pisco sours but didn't brave the grilled guinea pig while looking out on the square, then a celebration dinner with the group, traditional Peruvian music and costume dancers, before getting ready to fly out to Lima. 

There is another long story about how we almost got stuck outside Lima airport for 12+ hours but luckily met up with some tour people who let us tag along their tour group to see Lima in 1 day before flying out. 

Lima is a cool city which is amazingly clean but has some of the worst traffic I’ve seen,
Franciscan cathedrals, the oldest running university in the Americas, pre-inca pyramids, chocolate museum, catecombs
(where someone decided to dismantle the skeletons in order to count them, then arranged the bones by category not person),

Bar Cordano, the oldest in town filled with locals eating pork sandwiches,

the Parque del Amour on the beach at MiraFlores, right next to the “suicide bridge” and tile art reminiscent of Barcelona.

Susan and I both tend to suffer from post-race blues, which I guess keeps us looking for the next high. But increasingly, I am just grateful, both for the opportunity to have gone to places like Peru, and equally glad to be back at the Oasis in Seattle.