Mette Ivie Harrison's Blog, page 83

Thursday Quotes: Tobias Buckell's The Executioness

"I've seen the remains of war. And the men never seem to remember the women running form the sword who guide the army's packhorses to the frontline, and they always forget who bandaged the wounded through every skirmish. When the songs are sung about great battles, the women who helped sustain, feed, and build the army, who donated their husband to the cause: they are always somehow forgotten. You forget that they are just as good at war as men. They fade in your memory only because they didn't share the glory of the front line, even though they often shared the losses and death."

Writing Wednesday: Character Questions

I don't often write up character fact sheets. I find out more about characters when I throw them into a situation with other characters. But every once in a while, a particular character isn't coming out in the way that I need. So I am forced to sit down and start asking questions. I always end up asking different questions, so I don't think a template is of much use at all. Nonetheless, I thought it might be useful to share some of the questions I jotted down to tease out a particular hero:

What secrets does he know?
How does he find out these secrets?
How does he get servants to talk to him?
How has he assembled his spies?
How long has he been doing this?
What was his childhood like?
What was his father like?
What did he want to be when he grew up?
How are all his plans interrupted by the course of events in this novel?
Why is he so fiercely loyal to his kingdom?
Who are his friends?
Who would he sacrifice to get what he want?
What has he already sacrificed?
What is he very, very good at?
What is he bad at?
What disaster does he fear?
Of whom is he jealous?
What makes him angry?
What does he need?

Cowboys and Aliens--Or Who Has The Biggest, Er, "Weapon"

So, the movie opens with a close up shot of Daniel Craig waking up, looking down at his hand and seeing there is some kind of weird metal bracelet on it. He tries to whack it off with a rock, doesn't work. A few guys come up to him and try to capture him. He promptly kills all of them without a word. For a while, I was beginning to wonder if we were EVER going to hear Craig speak, or whether they'd decided to make him mute because he couldn't do a passable American accent.

But no, it turns out he has amnesia. Right! And he has no idea what the metal bracelet on his hand does. Until the sheriff sees a wanted poster and it turns out he is "Jake Lonagan," the Jesse James of the movie. As in all Westerns, the hero is really the rebellious, wise cracking, gangster. This film plays with a lot of the traditional Western motifs, and that is fine with me. I like Westerns in general. There's also a spoiled brat white kid whose Daddy turns out to be Harrison Ford. Ford kills a guy early on rather viciously, but that's OK, because he has a heart of gold. No, really. And when the aliens come killing and stealing people, Daniel Craig's weapon pops out, kills the aliens, and Harrison Ford's viciousness becomes an asset because he is going to turn that on the aliens.

I'm going with the story at this point, until Daniel Craig's weapon comes out. And then, I'm like, seriously? Because it knows when aliens are nearby (some of the time), lights up, and then extends and starts shooting, all unconsciously. Sound familiar? Suddenly, everyone wants Daniel Craig, gangster, on their team. Why? Because he has the biggest, baddest weapon of all. I'm not at all sure that the makers of the film understood what they were doing here. Probably not, but honestly, it doesn't matter because it certainly fits the Western genre remake they are doing to a "T." Whether you admit it or not, the guy with the biggest "weapon" is the guy everyone follows in a Western. And hey, I like to see Daniel Craig with his shirt off as much as anyone.

Everyone is trying to get Daniel Craig's "weapon" to turn on and start shooting. The only woman in the movie is hot and doesn't look at all period. But that's OK, because it turns out she's an alien. I appreciated the attempt here to make women more than simply pawns to make men act as rescuers. In this particular case, I feel that there was some serious failure. For one thing, because Olivia Wilde's character is an utter idiot. She follows Daniel Craig around, mooning over his "weapon." She's supposed to know all about these aliens and has come to Earth from across the galaxy to help humans fight them. She knows they are after "gold," but she has no idea where to find them. That's why she has to stick close to Craig. Right! It has nothing to do with the scene where she has to get him to stop thinking so his weapon will open and be deactivated by kissing him. Oh, no! If there is a better scene depicting a man losing his phallus anywhere on film, I'd love to see it.

Anyway, Olivia Wilde now has his weapon. Did anyone have any hope that a woman with power would survive this film? I did not. Instead, she does the womanly thing, and gives herself to save the world. All with us never knowing A SINGLE THING about her. Talk about female erasure. She is a place holder, nothing more. Well, that and some eye candy in the scene where she hops out of the fire naked and Craig gets to put a blanket over her, after a suitable period of ogling.

Oh, I almost forgot my favorite part! The image of the alien space ship. It is a perfect shaft, drilling into the Mother Earth to get gold out of it. I was laughing so hard when I saw the alien ship/shaft pull out of the Earth, blast off, and rise into the sky, erect and long and mean, trailing smoke and exhaust. When it explodes with Olivia Wilde inside, well, I'm not sure exactly what to make of that, except that if the alien girl takes Daniel Craig's phallus, at least she also destroys the really big one that the bad aliens had.

And then there's the attempt to remake the Indians' part in a Western. I have to say, I loved the character of the son-that-should-have-been. I loved the line "I always dreamed of following you into battle," and Harrison Ford's return line, "I always dreamed of having a son like you." But of course, the Indian son dies and the stupid idiot (white) son survives. Because this is a Western, and I remember the name of the white son but not a single one of the Indians who die in large numbers in this film. Have we moved passed Kemosabe or not? I'm leaning toward the latter. At least the Indians make a token show of not wanting to follow the white guy into his insane plan of attack. Until Daniel Craig and his "weapon" convince them.

I had a blast watching this movie, but am still not sure that the film makers knew how funny they were being. In the end, it doesn't really matter, does it. Fun is fun!

Monday Book Recs--Crusie, Durst, Buckell

Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie

This romance revolves around the conceit of the male hero agreeing (sort of) to a "bet" with the heroine's ex-boyfriend that he can get her into bed (since the ex wasn't able to) within one month. But the heroine overhears the whole thing, so she knows what's going on. I guess that's one version of cute-meet. I admit, I was intrigued by the idea, but that's not really kept my interest in the novel. I haven't read any books by Crusie before, but what I liked here were the characterizations of the whole group of friends and family surrounding the hero and heroine. I think, in fact, that this is one of the reasons that I fall in love with the romantic comedies that I do. On the theory that you are your friends, since it is you who attracts them and keeps up the relationship with them, I think it is not a bad way of choosing a mate to choose the circle of people around them. I love Hugh Grant's family in Notting Hill, love Julia Roberts' relationship with Rupert Everett before I fall in love with her relationship with the lead in My Best Friend's Wedding, and I think the relationships about Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in The Runaway Bride are what make it just a step above what would have been a rather humdrum romantic comedy.

In Bet Me, there is also the added pleasure of a romance about a woman who is constantly being told that she is "fat," by her mother, by society. How fat she is--never revealed. I think this is quite clever. It's always disappointing when you read about a character who thinks she is fat and then realize she is really only a size 12 or 14, which is much smaller than "fat" to any normal person. But I liked the relationship with the mother, too. Even though I hated the way she acted about food, and cringed, I thought she was a real person, not just a cardboard cutout. I loved the hero's complicated relationship with his brother and his wife, with their son, and with his own parents. I liked the trio of girlfriends, and the male friendships depicted. The fun of the romance was a sort of cherry on top. Fun, witty repartee, and the deliciousness of the hero's ex, who is writing a book about romance, was even funnier. Her come uppance wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but I suppose no book is perfect.

Drink Slay Love by Sarah Beth Durst

This is the vampire book I wish I had written. It is funny, poking at the cliches of vampire fiction in all the ways that I do in conversation. The stupid sparkly defanged vampires of late, the conventions of not being in sunlight, the vampire families living in old mansions, a vampire's interest (or lack of same) in going to high school. It also adds the fun twist of a unicorn which doesn't belong in vampire fiction at all, except that it does here. But the pleasure of this book is that it isn't just a parody. It has all the fun without ever once sacrificing the real meat of plot and characterization. I really cared about this vampire who was trying to be good. I cared about her love relationship, and I cared about the ending turning out well, since the stakes (pun intended) were raised pretty high. Don't miss out! Enjoy laughing over this with a friend.

The Executioness by Tobias Buckell

I admit, I picked this up because of the concept. I, like Maureen McHugh, wonder sometimes why it is that middle aged women, and specifically mothers, are not the heroes of any stories, either in urban fantasy or high fantasy or science fiction (with the exception, perhaps of Lois McMaster Bujold's brilliant first two books--but even there, Cordelia fades as Miles comes into the forefront). I love the idea of a project making such women the heroes. I loved even more the way in which this hero is an unwilling one. It's a type often used for male heroes, who tell their own stories and downplay their adventures. It is left up to the reader to decide whether or not the "true" story is a heroic one. For me, I think it is. A woman whose children are stolen from her sets out to get them back, and along the way, inspires other women to get their children back, ends up leading an army to conquer the raiders, and ultimately wins. It would have been tempting to make this woman so heroic that her enemies ended up being demonic and one-sided, but that isn't the case here, either. War itself is given a pretty good look, and it's not a look that is an easy one. There aren't simple answers like war is bad or religion is good. I will be thinking about this book for a good, long time. Expect quotes in days to come.

Friday Tri: Showing Up is Half the Battle

I lie to myself all the time. About writing, and about triathlon. I go down to my computer in the morning and tell myself I'm just going to check email. Or that I'm just going to look over yesterday's work. Something easy. Write a short essay for my blog. Send out a couple queries for a short story I wrote a few weeks ago. I tell myself that I will just go online and look at twitter, or facebook, maybe I'll have an idea for a short line to write to friends.
I know there are people who say that the way to get writing done is to stay off the internet, and there are certainly loads of programs that help you do that, disabling your internet access for a few hours at a time. I understand that this is important for some people, and of course, everyone has their own ways of getting things done. But for me, the internet is a little carrot that I use and I have never felt the urge to turn it off. Because as long as I am sitting at my desk, I will eventually get around to doing some real writing. It has happened every time. Even yesterday, when I ran 35 miles and was in pain, and told myself I was just going to sit because I needed to sit, and check email. But then I thought—maybe I could write a chapter. Or two. And I did.

The same thing is true of working out. Lie to yourself. Set an alarm and tell yourself that you're just going to go for a walk. Or that you are going to the gym, but you're not going to work out hard. You're going to swim a few laps and get out. Don't make big promises to yourself. But little ones matter. Make a commitment to do something, even if it is a small thing, to get yourself to be in the right place at the right time, whenever that is for you.

If you need extra sleep, OK, you an give yourself permission to turn off the alarm. For me, if the alarm goes off, about 90% of the time, I'm awake and even if I want to go back to sleep, I can't. Some days I will sit in bed and complain to myself for ten minutes (or thirty). Sometimes I will get up right away and get going. It's OK not to be excited about it every time. It's OK if you just show up at the gym and only do 5 minutes. But if you get into the habit, you are going to improve. If you put yourself in the right place, things will happen.

Sure, maybe you're not a morning person. Maybe the alarm thing will never work for you. Then don't do that. Set an alarm in the evening. Or get a coffee by the place that's near the gym. Or sign up for a race and realize that you're going to be embarrassed if you don't do some training beforehand, and if you don't show up, you'll have wasted your money. Hire a trainer, because that's real commitment. But if you're not ready for that, just tell yourself you're going to get out of bed and put your shoes on. Tell yourself that if you feel like coming back in the door the minute you step out, that you're allowed, that you can go sleep on the couch if you really need to.

Like I said, lie. That's what writers do best of all, isn't it?

Thursday Quotes: Jim Butcher Turncoat

I've been listening to some of the books in this series again as audio books, read wonderfully bu James Masters, and this conversation with Harry and his vampire brother Thomas really struck me. I haven't had as much luck as I wish I'd had to convince others in my circle of friends/family to become excited about these books, perhaps in part because the early books in the series show Jim Butcher still learning his craft. But this scene I think shows off that the Dresden Files aren't just wise cracking and supernatural sensawonda battles (although they certainly continue to have both those delicious elements). This scene shows real depth, both in the characters' relationship and in the depth of storytelling.

It may not make as much sense out of context, but I'm going to try to explain anyway. This is after Thomas has been taken and tortured by a supernatural demon for the simple reason that he is close to Harry and could be used to manipulate. Afterwards, Harry has to face a ruined Thomas. For me personally, I thought this captured exactly what it feels like when you've faced serious emotional trauma and people around you are trying to get you to accept that life will go on, and that you will be yourself again.

"This is not you."
"Yes it is," he spat, the words a bladed hiss. "That's what it taught me, Harry. At the end of the day, I'm just an empty place that needs to be filled." He shook his head. "I didn't want to kill those girls. But I did it. I killed them, over and over, and I loved how it felt. When I think back on the memory it, it doesn't make me horrified." He sneered. "It just makes me hard."
"Thomas," I whispered. "Please, man. This isn't what you want to be. I know you, man. I've seen you."
"You've seen who I wanted to be," he said. "Who I thought I was."

Wednesday Writing: Measuring Success

When I am racing in a triathlon, I often spend a lot of time sighting people who are just ahead of me, and then focusing energy on passing just that one person. But as soon as I've passed that person, it is as if they disappear. Behind me, I can no longer see them. Even if they are still close on my heels, unless they are close enough for me to hear, it doesn't matter. For all intents and purposes, they don't exist. Only the people ahead of me matter. And if I pass one person, there is always still someone else ahead of me.

On the one occasion this year when I was the lead woman in the race, I thought of the men I had come this close to passing. Or I thought of the women who *would* have beat me if they'd been in the race, and compared myself to them. Sometimes when I am talking to my daughters about their lives, I notice the same sense of blindness to what is behind them. One daughter (17) is into computers and math and wants to go to MIT. When she gets awards at her school, they don't matter to her at all because the only competition she sees is the competition of kids applying to MIT. 15 is into music and theater and for her, it's all about getting a professional talent agent and starting to sell albums on itunes.

The drive to continually improve is a healthy one for the most part. Reach exceeding our grasp and all that.

But there is a darker side to this, and it can make anyone crazy. In the writing world, as sales numbers become more available (though what those numbers actually mean is debatable) through amazon or other outlets, it can feel more and more like a triathlon race in which the author is literally trying to pas up the next author on the list. Book covers tout such things as "New York Times Best-selling author" or "Newbery/Printz award winning author" whenever possible, either in the case of the author or a blurb. Any published author can go crazy trying to measure success based on external factors like awards or sales. Or amazon star numbers. Or goodreads buzz. Or number of blurbs. Or on and on.

In the end, I have to remind myself that the external markers of success aren't real. Remember the scene in Notting Hill where Julia Roberts tells Hugh Grant that the life of a movie star isn't "real"? Well, the same goes for hype about books. It can help when my agent reminds me that numbers of books printed is often exaggerated for media effect, that big deals that are reported are often including multiple books and movie deals and on and on, that even the New York Times rankings can be manipulated. It can help when I heard about how the awards system really works from those who are inside. Not that they are rigged in any way, but that there is a good deal of compromising going on and the winners are based on luck and confluence of circumstance as well as on good writing.

In writing, as in racing, the "real" success can only be determined by the person who is in the race, by the person who is writing the book. I can't control who shows up to any race I sign up for. Sometimes a bunch of professionals will show up and the best race of my life (which happened this year) left me in 14th place, far out of the top 10 that I have come to expect. Other times, by fluke, I will end up on the podium because for whatever reason no one who was better showed up at that race. That's why, in the end, those sorts of rankings end up being "not real."

For me, I have to measure myself against myself. On the same course, did I do better this year than last? Then I've succeeded. Were the conditions different? How did I react to worse heat? How did I deal with a crash or a mechanical problem? To me, that is the "real" race. And as a writer, I can only measure my success against my own sense of good writing. Was I trying to do something different? Did I succeed at that? I think the success has to be measured before the book is published and not afterward. It can be hard to hold onto that sense of success, but it's important. Because otherwise, you will be caught in the fake world where other people control your success. Sure, it may feel good for a while. But it doesn't last.

Fake doesn't last. Real does.

Tuesday: Tris and Izzie Promo #3

Winner from the Tris and Izzie quote retweet is: rustyskies123 (aka Doug Green)
Winner from the Dick and Jane spoof: Quinn Colter

Please email me your addresses so I can ship the goodies off.

This week, I'm hoping to get people to tell me what potion they would like to find the recipe for. Think about it. If you could have a potion that would do anything magically, what would it be?

I will be posting the ideas, and I will try to come up with some fun recipes for said potions, as well.

Monday Book Recs--West, Connolly

Circle of Enemies by Harry Connolly

This was a dark book. I'm trying to remember if the other books in this series have been as dark. Maybe they were, but this surprised me. I think because for Ray Lilly, the narrator and protagonist, the people who were dying in this book were people he knew, his family, though not biologically. It's also dark because you find out a lot more about Ray in this book, and his past isn't a pretty one. You want to think of Ray as a hero, and he is. But he's a dark, twisted hero. And in order to make him more heroic, you end up seeing more of the people in charge of the Twenty Palace Society and see how much worse than him they are. As always, I really like the inventiveness of the world and the magic of this series. The ghost knife is a fascinating and very simple construct. In this book, we are also introduced to the "spell books" which are not at all what you might have imagined them to be. And the aliens/demons that can be reached through these books are truly interesting and alien. Impatient with humanity in a way that I would think creatures with real power would be, also uninterested in morality. If you are missing this series, you are missing the most interesting revision of urban fantasy around.

The Hidden City by Michelle West

I was drawn into this story by the relationship between the young girl Jay (Jewel) in it and the man she decides to steal from (Rath) and then becomes a ward of. I followed along as the cast of characters grew larger and larger, mostly filled with children. A part of my mind was curiously wondering why it is that a book like this is adult and not children's. One reason: length. Maybe it's darker. I'm not so sure. Each of the children is child-like, and there's not a sense of nostalgia about childhood that there is many books written about children for adults. But these aren't children who are carefree and worry about if they will get to sit in the cool side of the cafeteria at school. These are children who have been abused and who are trying to find power in a world that doesn't give it easily. I had a sense that they really mattered, though not in the typical "fantasy prophetical child" sense. I will say that for me, I wished a little that the book had remained smaller. Not the world itself, but the cast of characters did overwhelm me at some point. I liked them and the writing is fabulous. This is a personal bent. I tend to prefer smaller stories, that's all, intimate stories about two people. This isn't that, though it seemed to be at first. I will be curious to see what stories come next, since this is obviously the first in a really big fat fantasy series.

race report Kokopelli 2011: Redemption

I did not crash! That is probably the most important thing about this race. It wasn't a perfect race, but it was a good one.

I drove 5 hours down to St. George to get to the race venue, stayed overnight in a hotel I would probably not go back to. I had dinner from one of my favorite restaurants (Durango's) that is now only located there. I also got to listen to James Marsters read Harry Dresden, one of the funnest things ever. So all good things.

As usual, I forgot a couple of things. One I could replace by buying more BodyGlide at the registration booth for the race. The other was sandals, which I regretted not having for the drive, mostly.

I got up plenty early for the race, which didn't start until 9:30 for my wave. They actually did the sprint first, which I personally appreciated a lot. That way there was a lot less crossover potential on the doubly used course, particularly at the bike turnaround.

They also did the kids' race first, which was lots of fun for me to watch. I got choked up thinking about my own kids doing triathlon with me and my husband. It's really satisfying to see your children face those challenges bravely, and the difficulties are not that much different. On a different scale, but there are still kids who sale through and kids who cry and puke, but keep going. Or don't. It's all good.

I got to watch the sprinters leave in waves. Everyone had a color coded cap, so you could see during the race who was in your group and who wasn't. My group had salmon colored caps, so while I was in the water I could occasionally look up and see people who I was actually competing against, at least until I was out of the water. I liked that. I also liked the sense that the race was well organized. They had aid stations on the bike as well as the run. I didn't use the bike stations, because I carry my own gatorade, but it was nice nonetheless.

The water was perfect. There is no water as nice to swim in as at Sand Hollow State Park. I could literally see straight to the bottom in many places and I didn't have the sense that I was breathing in dead fish. The water was cool but not cold. We jumped in off the dock and that was a great sensation. I usually walk in slowly. I chatted with another woman there who had done some of the same races I had and who asked me about Ironman St. George. Then we were off.

I could sight easily because I had new goggles, my Speedo Hydrospex which are the best goggles in the world and the only goggles that should ever be sold IMHO. The one mistake I made was that I turned at the wrong buoy on the second lap and started swimming across the course. A guy on a kayak came after me and told me to go back. I probably lost a minute or so from that. Not a big deal in the end. I tried not to beat myself up over it. I was passing a lot of guys who had started in earlier waves and that was a theme for the whole course. It wasn't bad because there weren't a lot of them. In a couple of spots I became aggressive swimming between people. Sorry if I was rude to anyone!

I got out of the water and from that point on, it was almost impossible to tell who I was competing against and who I wasn't. Obviously, I wasn't competing against the guys since they started in different waves. But there were two waves of women, one of the younger women who started at least 5 minutes earlier. I kept checking legs but a lot of numbers wear off in the sweat of a race and they're kind of hard to spot on a bike anyway. I shrugged and just kept going at my own pace. I usually take more than 2 minutes in transition, but this transition was under 45 seconds because of the shoes on bike plan. I was actually #1 among all the women in T1, so that is something I have definitely improved on.

As last time, I put my shoes on my bike and biked barefoot a bit until I could get my feet in. I'm pretty sure I need a lot more practice on this. I certainly didn't see anyone else in barefeet. At mile 4, we hit a significant hill. I geared down, determined not to stand. In a longer race, it makes sense to stand so you can work out some kinks, but this wasn't long enough and sitting is a more efficient way to pedal. You don't lose energy to uneven strokes. My bike computer was fixed this week so that it accurately represents my speed. Before it was always about 10% ahead because it was set for 700 cc wheels and I have 650 cc wheels. That made me feel a little slower, plus the fact that it was uphill. But I got my gus in and kept going.

At the sprint turnaround, you can bet I went slow and didn't pass anyone, even if they looked like they were going through. At the Olympic turnaround, I slowed almost to a stop to turn. That was also where I got a chance to see how many women were ahead of me. I'm not perfect at spotting women vs men in biking gear. Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes not so much. I counted 5 women ahead of me, the best one about 10 minutes ahead. I didn't think I would catch them, though in fact I caught one. She caught me back in transition, though. I ended up finishing third on the bike in final times, and that's about what I can do on my best days. A couple of guys complimented me on my biking, and I said I have a nice bike, which I do. One of the guys said that yeah, but I had to have an engine to turn those wheels. I do have a good engine in my biking legs.

I got my feet back out of my shoes on the last mile and ran into transition barefoot. Not sure if that was right, either. I put on my new super fast sockless triathlon shoes which I love and make me feet super fast, even if they are hot pink, my least favorite color. Then I headed out at what felt like a steady pace I could keep up for about an hour. I passed A LOT of people on the run. I think this is mainly because of the wave system. A lot of the slower men were still ahead of me because they started 15 minutes ahead. So I'd passed them earlier, in a way. They just didn't know it.

One moment was really fun, when I was passing a couple of teenage guys. They were going maybe 9 minute pace, but I blew by them. They made some comment about a fast chick. Then they looked at my leg and saw how old I was and they seemed to think I was pretty cool. That was nice. A lot of guys complimented me and I just waved. Honestly, I don't have the breath to talk while racing, especially on the run. If you heard me breathing, you'd understand. I almost drowned on a cup of water I tried to drink because I was breathing so hard and inhaled it. I admit that I counted every step. I was doing a mile in about 730 steps, which is fast for me. It was a hilly course and I finished in just under 8 minute miles total.

At the turnaround for the run I again got to see how many women were ahead of me. It was still 5, although one guy told me I was third. I figured he was just miscounting. There were 5 that I counted, and 3 three of those were within the 5 minute window that might mean I could catch them. I couldn't really tell their age. It was over 80 at this point, hot but not unbearable. I took in as much water as I could and took in one last gu. I hate gu, but I take it anyway, and I've gone to water over gatorade on the run because if it spills all over me, I don't get sticky.

For the first time EVER in a race, I was not passed on the run. One of my goals going into the race was to try to be passed by only a couple of women on the run. Not that I can control that absolutely, but that was what I wanted. I ended up finishing the run 6th of the women for that leg, and that's a really good result for me. I don't consider myself a runner. I run, but I don't love it. I'm most comfortable in the water, and I am always fastest on the bike. Sometimes I wonder if this is proof that I pace myself badly, but I actually think it just means I am newest to running, not starting until a few years ago.

Anyway, I hit the final uphill stretch and tried to push it in. I knew there was a woman under a minute behind me because I'd seen her at the turnaround. It's a pain not knowing exactly how close someone behind you is, but I didn't turn back to see. I didn't do an all out sprint, but I pushed hard and finished in 2:26. That's :31 for the swim (the fastest woman finished in :26, and I'm usually 3-4 minutes back from the fastest woman, so I think it was just long for everyone.) The bike I finished in 1:03 for 20 miles of hills. I wish I could have gone faster, but I was a little freaked out and kept slowing so as to avoid hitting other bikes and cars and the road on downhills. Need to work on that. The run I finished in :49, and it was really hilly, too, so I'm happy I kept it under 8 minutes per mile on that course and in that heat.

I got a bottle of water at the finish line, a quarter bagel, half banana and a quarter orange. I was still dripping sweat for the next ten minutes, so I stayed where it was cool under a tent. When I started to feel cool again and not so sweaty, I went out and looked at results. My results weren't up yet, so I went back to my bike and started to put things away to get ready to go.

This race had a spaghetti lunch/dinner free for athletes, so I went over and had that. I don't know if it was the food or me, but it was hard to choke it down. I felt bad, but I threw away the bread stick. I don't usually like them anyway. A couple more guys found me and said "363," you passed me on the run way fast. This is where I get into tricky situations. I mean to be nice, so I said that I had new shoes and they made me feel great. Looking back, that seems fine. But then one of the guys said he was fighting a blister on his foot that was killing him. I was trying to commiserate, so I told him I was dealing with the same thing from the 30 mile run I did on Tuesday when I lost two toenails. Now, looking back, I realize that sounded like bragging. Darn it! He mumbled something about how I must be in really good shape to do that long of a run and come do this race at my pace.

Sigh!

I went back to the results area and found out that I'd come in sixth, which was what I expected. The top three women had times listed under an hour, which was clearly wrong, but I shrugged it off. I was only 2nd in my age group as far as I could tell. The woman who beat me is an old, old nemesis of mine whom I haven't met up with for years. She's always ranked higher than me on the USAT lists, so I wasn't surprised she beat me. I was only surprised she beat me by only 7 minutes.

I had to get home and they passed out medals to all finishers, so I didn't figure it was worth hanging around for awards. I got back on my bike and rode it down to my car (including a protein drink), threw everything in the back except some snacks I'd saved for the ride home, and I was on my way, listening to more Harry Dresden read by James Marsters. It wasn't until I got home that I found out that the top three women had started earlier than I did, and had been kicked down. So I actually finished third overall, which is really cool, especially at my age. Maybe I should have hung around for awards, after all.

Feeling good today, and hungry. Good thing 14 made us biscuits for breakfast this morning.