My Achilles Heel: My Achilles Tendon
The truth is, I wore woefully worn-out shoes for the Napa Valley Marathon. Not only that, it was a miserably cold and rainy day and because I didn't want to get wet (which I did, anyway, standing and waiting for the start), I did not warm up. No surprise, then, that I am now dealing with my first nagging injury in more than four years of triathlon.

Ran about four miles today and it wasn't excruciating. It wasn't even that bad. But four miles at 9 minutes/mile is hardly pushing it, and the whole way, I could feel the tightness in my right Achilles tendon. I could probably keep running two or three times a week, 4-6 miles each run, and things wouldn't get worse. Nor would they get better. All of which puts me in pretty sad shape pointing toward a half-iron race in June, or even late July. No, the thing to do -- what that wise little voice in my head is saying -- is, "Don't run for 4-6 weeks. It's the only way to get over this so you can really get back at it."

Meanwhile, I have nearly convinced myself that I need to buy this:



Don't really have the money, but damn, I want a triathlon bike! Might not make me faster, but I do know it would rev up my training bigtime for the rest of the season. And that will make me faster.

Why We're All Wet
The totals in inches haven't been huge, but the rain has been persistent this month. A number of locations have either already or will surely set a record for number of March days with measurable precipitation. Today, the morning discussion out of the National Weather Service's Monterey office takes a crack at explaining the phenomenon (they like all-caps, don't ask me why):

THE PERSISTENCE OF THIS PATTERN IS BECOMING QUITE REMARKABLE. THE COMPLETE LACK OF A HUDSON BAY LOW AND THE STRONG POSITIVE ANOMALY THAT HAS PERSISTED OVER GREENLAND HAVE ESSENTIALLY BLOCKED SYSTEMS FROM MOVING DUE EAST INTO CANADA AND FORCED THEM SOUTH INTO THE US. THE OTHER MAJOR ANCHOR FOR MAINTAINING THIS PATTERN HAS BEEN THE PERSISTENT BROAD UPPER RIDGE NEAR 160W. THIS HAS BEEN SUPPORTED BY THE ALMOST CONTINUOUS KONA LOW TYPE SYSTEMS THAT HAVE PLAGUED HAWAII FOR ALMOST TWO MONTHS. THE HEATING GENERATED BY THE PERSISTENT CONVECTION HELPS BUILD THE RIDGE TO THE NORTH WHICH AMPLIFIES THE DOWNSTREAM TROUGHS WHICH HAPPENS TO BE THE SYSTEMS THAT HAVE BEEN TRACKING INTO CALIFORNIA FOR OVER A MONTH. FINALLY THE CONVECTION OVER AUSTRALIA THAT HAS SUPPORTED MULTIPLE TROPICAL CYCLONES IS ALSO HELPING TO ANCHOR THE LONG WAVE PATTERN. THE RIDGE BUILDING NORTH OF THIS CONVECTION HAS AMPLIFIED THE VERY DEEP TROUGHS THAT HAVE BEEN DEVELOPING EAST OF JAPAN WHICH HAS ALSO HELPED BUILD THE BROAD LONG WAVE RIDGE DOWNSTREAM NEAR 160W. UNTIL WE SEE ANY OF THESE THREE MAJOR ANCHOR POINTS BREAK DOWN THE UNUSUALLY WET AND COLD PATTERN FOR CALIFORNIA WILL CONTINUE. RIGHT NOW THIS LOOKS LIKE IT WILL CONTINUE INTO NEXT WEEK AT LEAST.

Just Wondering
The Oregon clan who made it out alive -- is their travel agent a guy named Stolpa?

New Music
So I've discovered Rogue Wave, three years after the cool people fell in love with them and probably two years and, oh, six months after those same cool people dismissed them because they were now popular. Nevertheless, I like 'em a lot and have been listening to the CD nonstop since it arrived yesterday morning. Apparently, the band had a song played on -- or they played a song on, don't know which -- The OC, which presumably means they are listened to by high school and college kids. So am I outta my element or what? But I love the layers and the narcotic, dreamy feel of their music, the way it rises and falls, its warmth amid not-too-precious young-person's angst.

Er, yes, I said CD. Haven't gotten to the Ipod/MP3 business yet.

What Napa Kids Do

Niko and I bottled wine on Sunday. At left, he's filling the bottles, a task he has down to an art. Below, he's sitting in front of the 10 cases -- that's 120 bottles, people! -- we finished off. Look for the limited edition release with the labels handcrafted at Niko's Paper Factory.

Barry
Been thinking a lot about the Barry-steroids story. I have opinions on the matter but haven't been sure what to write, as those opinions are sprawling and probably not very interesting. So I'll just share the initial emotion the story stirred in me, which I quickly typed up in an email to my friend Dan:

I'll never forget 1993 ('93, right?) when I went on a weekend solo mountain biking/camping venture in the mountains of Modoc County and, with a little transistor radio in my tent, listened to Barry hit three* homers at Dodger Stadium on the third-to-last day of the season to keep the Giants alive for one more day. Alone in the wilderness, I hollered and cheered until I cried. That was Friday. Saturday, another Giants win. Still alive. On Sunday, a victory from a playoff, the Solomon Torres debacle. Oh well.

Juiced Barry now strikes me as grotesque and unnatural and I miss the Barry of old. He was slender and powerful and fast. He fucked up in the playoffs. He made amazing catches in the field. That was when I could still remember in a visceral way what it was like to get in a groove for a few weeks and hit nothing but liners, shots, to all fields.

That was when: I had been married only once and never divorced. Writing wasn't something I used to do, gone forever. On my mountain bike, I went up and down terrain I now can't imagine even trying to ride.

It was never easy loving Barry, but it could be done. The concessions one had to make were not dishonorable. He was brilliant and not-perfect. Life sort of felt that way. I'm not saying I was innocent, but I didn't know, then, how cold abandonment could be.

I wish Barry could have known that it was all enough. People always think there's something wrong. They wreck things in pursuit of -- what? I still don't know. All I know is they wreck things. People always wreck things and hurt people. And then all they wish for is the one thing that's impossible, that they could turn back the clock.

*Just double-checked this memory, and found it to be faulty: Barry had two homers and a double that night, going 3-for-3 and knocking in 7 runs.

Web(-footed) News
New blogger of note.

Marathon No. 4
I'd guess about a third of an inch of rain fell on me during the 3 hours, 52 minutes and 30 or so seconds I was running the Napa Valley Marathon this morning. Not that bad, you're thinking. Third of an inch. Hardly Katrina. And yet, heading into a steady wind of 5-15 mph, with gusts over 20, it didn't take long to become wet through the nylon jacket and the cycling jersey that was under it. Wet through the skin, too. Wet to the bone, as they say.

Wet, windy -- with the temperatures in the 40s, well, yeah, it was cold. Pretty miserable, really.

The kind of cool thing was, faced with these elemental impediments, I went out easy and that was good. I ran the first 12 miles with a colleague and friend, Laura from Chicago. She endured well my constant chatter (she didn't punch me, that's how I know), and we cruised along at an 8:45/mile pace. Then Laura had to take a toilet break. She convinced me that it might be awhile, so I soldiered on. Running alone and nearing the halfway mark, I noted that I didn't feel all that spent. Nothing like Sacramento in December, when I was pushing hard to stay on an 8 minute/mile pace. To be sure, there was the usual plate of delicious delights to feast upon: tightening quads, aching knees, throbbing hip, the beginnings of blisters.... But I felt well-fed and -hydrated, munching jelly beans and gels, sipping something at the aid stations every two miles. There was never the hint of a suggestion of a notion that anything was amiss with my tummy or the places farther along the digestive/excretory tract. Unprecedented.

So I kept up the pace. Even as the quads sang out in pain I kept up the pace. Even as the wind battered us on the uphill around Mile 20, I kept up the pace. Once over that hill, I knew I would be all right. My muscles didn't like the cold, but the rest of my body seemed to be accustomed to it by then. It seemed manageable. A couple of times I began to slide over 9 minutes/mile, but then I'd find a faster runner to pull me back under.

Turning off Silverado Trail, finally, near the Mile 23 mark gave me a psychological boost. Then onto Big Ranch for Miles 24 and 25. That seemed to go on too far. Then a turn, and a turn, and around one more turn, the finish chute. Finishers metal, space blanket, warm soup, all good.

[Thanks to Laura's hubby, Steve, for the ride to the start line, so I didn't have to do the gruesome predawn bus thing. And thanks to Max for driving my car from her house to the finish, so I could head directly home from there. Lastly, congrats to Laura, for gutting it out.]

UPDATE: Official time was 3:52:43, placing me 387th out of 1,438 finishers.

All Right! Woo-Hoo! Let's Go!
Forecast for tomorrow morning's Napa Valley Marathon: Rain, with winds about 20 mph from the south (the race heads south) and gusts approaching 40 mph.

Look for the full report Sunday evening...