Mette Ivie Harrison's Blog, page 85

Top Romantic Comedies and Leads

Top 10 romantic comedies of all time (not counting Jane Austen remakes)
1. An Affair to Remember
2. My Best Friend's Wedding
3. To Catch a Thief
4. It Happened One Night
5. Notting Hill
6. Pretty Woman
7. You've Got Mail
8. Runaway Bride
9. The Scarlett Pimpernel
10. While You Were Sleeping

Runner-ups:
Sleepless in Seattle
Charade
Night and Day
Groundhog Day
Notorious
The Philadelphia Story
Indiscreet
When Harry Met Sally
Something's Got To Give
As Good as It Gets
The Holiday
Love, Actually
Truly, Madly, Deeply
Some Kind of Wonderful
Pretty in Pink
Sabrina
Say Anything

Top 10 romantic male leads of all time
1. Cary Grant
2. Clark Gable
3. Harrison Ford
4. David Tennant
5. Robert Downey Jr.
6. Hugh Laurie
7. Hugh Grant
8. Colin Firth
9. Alan Rickman
10. James Marsters

Runners Up:
David Morrissey
David Boreanaz
John Simm
Jason O'Mara
Jude Law
Matthew McFadyen
Rupert Penry-Jones

Monday Book Recs--Inquisitor, Mr. Impossible, Hinwood

The Returning by Christine Hinwood

I picked this up a while ago, and read the first few pages, but it is one of those books that moves slowly, and it takes a long time to "get into" the world of the book. I had expected it to be fantastical, but if there are elements of fantasy here, they are hidden pretty deeply in this first book. I really ended up liking every character in this book. It is definitely more of a character story than a plot story. I hope that it gets more readers. It is about the after-effects of war, which I think is something that doesn't get dealt with much in fantasy. It's all the glamor of the victory, but not about what happens to the defeated and how a new society can be forged and who it costs. There is a new kind of heroism on display, and I liked how the female characters were appropriate to the time period of the story and yet very real, very strong.


The Inquisitor's Apprentice by Chris Moriarty

I LOVED this book. I read it and felt immediately as if I had fallen into turn-of-the-century New York City with a twist. I thought the world building was fantastic. The characters may be a little cliched, the young boy who wants to prove himself, the smart girl sidekick/romance and the older, mysterious guide. But I really liked the evil character of the Golem who is essentially the main character himself, in mirror form, trying to suck life out of him to have his own. This was a fascinating villain and the dilemma set up is so interesting, definitely worth exploring in subsequent books. I read this in ARC form, so I'm not sure that the art was finished, but I hope it lives up to the text. I also loved the Jewish family backstory going on here, and the general discussion of religiousness. So interesting, and so much what it is on my mind at the moment.



Mr. Impossible by Loretta Chase

It has been a long time since I read any romance fiction. This is set in Egypt, but what seems to me to be a very British-colonial idealized Egypt, where all the natives are stupid, superstitious, and need to be "guided" by the British. I cringed at a lot of these descriptions of the culture and the native characters. I also had a lot of difficult getting into the romance genre again. I think I may be allergic to women being described in such idealistic terms. Seriously, if you are that hot, you may have trouble walking anywhere because men just cannot stop looking at you and wanting to attack you. Ugh! And guys so hot. And also the sex is always so perfect.

That aside, I did have fun with this book. I liked the role reversal being played with, and I was eventually convinced that the couple were perfect for each other. Enough so that I am reading the other books in the series and enjoying them. There is definitely something to be said for fiction that is just for fun, and has no intention of making you read every word carefully.

Friday Tri: Going Slower

This year one of the main things I have changed in my training is more slower running and biking. When I say slow, I really mean slow. This is one of those things that I heard people talk about for years and I just didn't believe. I was sure that the way to get faster was to push myself hard every day. I would do puke inducing workouts on a regular basis, often every other day. And sometimes, if I could figure out how to do it, I would push myself in different sports every day.

Then I hit 40. As Lois McMaster Bujold says of Miles Vorkosigan, 40 hit back (only for him it's 30). And I started to dread workouts and not be able to sleep because I was thinking about the next day's workout. And I wondered what it was I thought I was doing. I am not a professional athlete. I do not want to be a professional athlete. I am a professional writer and I can see pretty clearly what happens when you turn your hobby into a career. I do not want to do that to my triathlon training.

So I gave up writing down goals last year for each race. I gave up doing a formal list of things that I had done badly at each race and wanted to improve on. I gave up the list of yearly things I wanted to achieve in triathlon. And I gave up writing workout plans for myself. I woke up every morning and made it up. I did what I felt like doing instead of what was written on a plan. And I felt like doing what was a lot of slow stuff. I like working out. I like the adrenaline and endorphins that I get. But I get those without pushing so hard.

Slow is a relative term, by the way. It means what feels slow for you. For me, that means my heart rate is generally below 130 on the bike and below 140 on the run. For swimming, it often means that I use fins, which feels like cheating, but makes swimming enough easier that I can keep going for an hour without resting or having that queasy, dizzy feeling I sometimes get that possibly means I am dehydrated in the water. For you it may mean walking. Or running on a treadmill instead of outside. Or leaving your watch at home. Or having a friend with you at a workout who is slower than you are. It may mean setting goals to be slower rather than faster and rewarding yourself for them.

Sometimes I will do a whole week of easy workouts after I've finished a race. I've done a lot of racing this summer, with three races in August alone. I have tried to save my racing for the races. I like racing. I am aware of the fact that having other athletes around makes me want to work harder. I think this has an effect, though of course there are times when no amount of wishing that I could speed up to catch someone is going to matter. But I keep dropping time off my PR's, so I am going to assume that at my age, I must be doing something really successful if I am still getting faster rather than slower.

I tell other athletes over 40 (who ask my advice) that one workout a week that makes you sore or makes you so tired you need extra sleep is plenty. More than that is probably too much. I'm not saying you shouldn't be trying to workout harder. But once a week plus racing is enough of that for me.

I should also make it clear that even though I do not write down a workout plan formally for myself anymore, I have been doing this for long enough that when I have a race coming up, I have a good idea of what workouts I absolutely have to do to be able to finish the race. And I do a lot of long distance stuff, sometimes spending three or fours hours working out on a Saturday. I'm not trying to give people permission to get up and do the same workout they've always done forever. The body makes adjustments and you get less and less out of the same workout over time. But what works for me is more of the longer, slow stuff that builds a great aerobic base.

Being an athlete doesn't mean going out and pushing myself past all limits every day. It means listening to my body and being a good coach to myself. It means knowing that I need to rest, building in a day a week when I do nothing but walking, if that. It means spending some time congratulating myself on my successes, celebrating little things in a formal way, looking back and seeing the progress that I made this year as compared with last.

But as I write that list, I realize that the lessons about going slow and listening to myself are not just lessons about triathlon, right? As a writer, I have learned some of those same lessons. It doesn't help for me to just force myself to keep writing when I am stuck on a novel. Feeling like I want to puke on my own book means that there is something wrong. It may take a lot of time to figure out what that something is. It may take doing things that don't feel like they are going to make me break through, like reading or watching TV or lying down and doing nothing at all. And one of the things that is important to feeling happy about my writing is celebrating my successes and congratulating myself. I try to keep up good self-talk about my writing because I am the only one in my head, and I better be nice to myself there. No one else can do that for me, and that's a vital space to keep happy or no writing is going to be good.

By the same toke, I think these are healthy tips for anyone, writer, athlete, mom, student, human. We spend so much time making lists of things we want to achieve. We spend less time waking up, trying to decide how we feel, and then allowing ourselves to do what we can within those limitations. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Be a turtle. And remember, the turtle wins because the turtle takes care of herself. The turtle doesn't need the breaks the hare takes because the turtle isn't pushing that hard all the time.

Annoying romance tropes #1, #2, and #3

Trope #1 Dainty Women

One of the things that bothers me about adult romance is the emphasis on physical descriptions. Some of them make me roll my eyes. There are actually books written to help romance writers come up with new ways to describe the characters physically. And let me say, I can't remember the last time I read a romance in which the woman was described as anything other than dainty. Oh, she's got curves, definitely. But I feel as if I am being pounded over the head at times with how feminine she is.

The hero can pick her up easily and everything about her is described in terms of how small it is, her feet (Cinderella, anyone?), her waist, her tiny features, her tiny hands (often held by the hero), her knees, legs, throat, and on and on. I am pretty sure that the culture code for this is nonthreatening and subservient. One of the reasons I found Anna and the French Kiss interesting was that the hero was described as small rather than the heroine. I like gender reversals a lot, especially in romance, if you haven't figured that out already, and I especially like gender reversals that are also power reversals.

Trope #2 Losing Her Mind

Another really common adult romance trope is when the otherwise intelligent heroine acts like an idiot around the hot man. I'm not saying that this never happens in real life. Maybe it does. But in romances the tendency is for the problem to affect the heroine a lot more than the hero. I dislike this because I want the heroine to remain who she is so that the hero can fall in love with the real her.

Sure, there is a time and a place for the two leads to be pressed into difficult situations where they change and grow, show their vulnerabilities and weaknesses. But when this happens every time the two are together because she just can't think about anything but falling into bed with the hero, then it is tiresome and it makes the heroine feel like she is a straw woman. I feel like she can't really be that smart if she is so easily distracted. I know, I know, he is REALLY, really hot. She has never met anyone that HOT before. I get it. The physical attraction is important. On to . . .

Trope #3 Undressing Her/Him

I am probably a prude about this. I write what some readers are calling "clean" romances. But I don't think that word means what they think it means. I don't have a problem with sexy romances. Or talk about how handsome or hot the hero is, per se. It's just that I don't like the hero or heroine to be constantly undressing the opposite number mentally. It's not because I think it's dirty. It's because I usually think it's boring. That is, it's not moving the plot forward. It's not making me see the hero or heroine as stronger or more interesting.

Sexual attraction is pretty basic animal instinct. It's there, all the time, and sure, mention it. But then get on with it. And I just cringe when certain attributes are described in laughable terms. I can't help it. It's so awkward in most adult romance novels. That's why I tend to skip that part when I write my own books. I think letting the reader imagine a lot of it ends up being more elegant.

I am thinking about the scene in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. You know the scene where Darcy jumps into the water fully clothed, hot and sweaty. It's a very sexy scene. The sexiness is because it is so understated. Yes, he has a white shirt on, so it goes a little transparent in the water. But not completely transparent. And he doesn't say anything. That's my kind of sexy, and it's not just because it's set in a time period when sexuality was repressed. It's inherently sexy for him to be in nearly complete control of himself and his thoughts and then to come upon Elizabeth when he is vulnerable and they are both surprised.

Improvisation

I was talking to 15 about the process of writing. It has surprised me how often it is useful to use a different creative arts metaphor to help me understand myself. I asked 15 if when she wrote a song, she was basically transcribing a melody in her head. At first, she said that she was, and couldn't figure out any other way that it could be done. But later she admitted that she sometimes hears accompaniment for a song first, and then sits at a piano and works out a melody to go with it. Or she will sometimes have a feeling she wants to evoke or a song she wants to steal a piece from and then she will improvise around it.

Improvising is perhaps the best description ever of what I do when I write. I have previously been using "outliners" and "pantsers" as terms describing the two ends of the spectrum, but improvising is much better. It explains some of the reasons why I had such difficulty writing in the early stages of my career, for example. I simply did not understand the inner rules of STORY as I do now. I didn't know what chords I could put together, so to speak. I didn't know how to evoke the feeling I wanted to evoke. Now that I do, that doesn't mean that my first improvisation is the right one, but it does mean that my improvisations are of a completely different level now than they used to be.

I sit down and I know what to do to put together a scene that fills this part of the plot, that moves the plot to the next position, that has characters developing in the way that they need to. I can play with variations on how to move certain pieces on the board to the climactic moment. There is always a climactic moment, and I may always know what that moment will be, but everything around that moment can change. The characters are the same characters in some essential way in every draft I write, and yet they may do completely different things, may be in scenes that have nothing to do with other scenes I have written for them.

Another thing that 15 and I discussed was the possibility of writing a great song (or a perfectly good one) without having had any training in theory at all. We both know this has been done. We've heard songs or read books by people who don't seem to know the rules. But the art works anyway. The only problem is that in many cases, the artists, because unaware of the rules, are unable to produce a second book. (Sophomore novel syndrome anyone?) Of course, it can be done. It just isn't as easy as the first novel was, because the first novel/song was a completely fluke.

When I sit down to write a novel now, I have an idea of what I want to do. Sometimes it is stealing something from another book. I think I want to write a romance that has the snappy dialog of Pride and Prejudice, for example, or I want to evoke the feeling of loss that I get when there is a new Dr. Who. It doesn't really matter if the potential reader of my novel knows my source or not. Sometimes a publisher will decide to make it obvious what I am doing, sometimes not. But the spark matters for me. I can test my work against that spark and try to figure out if I am doing my improvisation "right" or not if it does what I imagined it would do.

Other times, I start writing a book and it turns in my hands into something else. I think improvisation is a good word to describe that, as well. An improvisation can take you in a different direction and then you may end up polishing it up and erasing the first parts that took you where you ended up. I had that happen with The Princess and the Hound,which I originally thought was a retelling of The Princess and the Pea.

Call for Shakespeare Spoofs

Tris and Izzie will be published October 11, which is six weeks from tomorrow exactly! Yeah! As the first in a series of six promotion posts for this, I am calling for retellings/spoofs of your favorite Shakespeare monologues written for a contemporary audience.

I will pick my favorite (some of the giveaways will be random, but this one isn't) and that person will get a goodie bag full of swag from me (including a T-shirt, a bookmark, a tiny little potion bottle for mixing your own potion—recipes available on www.trisandizzie.com—plus lots of good karma points). Egmont will also send a brand spanking new hardcover copy of Tris and Izzie to your home address as soon as they get them in.

Post your interpretation (including which play it is from and which character speaks it) in the comments below or send them to me (mette at metteivieharrison.com) and I'll post them for you. Next Monday, just before the next promo, I'll announce the winner.

As an example of what I am looking for, I am posting my own versions of three famous Shakespeare monologues rewritten for a contemporary YA audience:

Hamlet:

To breathe or not to breathe, Dude, that is the question. If you think you're tougher if you deal with it, over and over again, all of the heaviness of life. Or if you think only wimps keep on living and the smart nerds get it over with a quick jump over the bridge. To kick the bucket and dream the big dream in the sky. That would be the end of all the hard stuff, the freaky moments, the stupid pain of the body that means nothing. Dude, it sounds like nirvana, totally. I mean, the end of everything is the final grade of life, the big A in the sky. Only one problem with it—what if it's not the last test? What if there is a teacher up there with a big gnarly voice, waiting to smack us down again if we don't do our homework? What if the end of life isn't the end at all? What if there is more of the same? What if the truth is that we can never get rid of who we are and what we make of ourselves? What if there is no end, ever? That's the real problem with a long life. We run on a wheel like hamsters and we eat and sleep and pay for everything our whole lives, and what's the point of it? If we could end it earlier, wouldn't that be better? But if there is something waiting for us after, some funky darkness at the end of the tunnel instead of light, then that's the reason not to die. At least here we know what it's like. There, no one has ever come back to tell us about it. It might be worse. And we are all chickens when it comes to pain. It's not the nothing that we're afraid of. It's the something that we don't know. That's what makes us stay here, and be the real weaklings, not in body, but in mind. We are afraid. We are always afraid.
Juliet:

Romeo, Romeo, what kind of a name is that anyway? Romeo? Did your parents hate you to give you that name? Or were they trying and just were so lame that they couldn't figure out anything better? I can think of a hundred better names for you. Dude, you are so hot. How about Hotness? Or Sting? Or if you don't like those names, you can choose your own and I'll use it. Or maybe you don't like my name. My parents were thinking something classic, but I'll take any name you choose to match yours. How about Romea? Or Roliet? Or something like that? It doesn't really matter, does it? A name is just some random letters and sounds. People make up their own names all the time and they work just as well. They might stink, but who cares?

Macbeth:

Is that a knife floating in the air around me? Knives don't float, so I suppose it can't really be a knife. I can't touch it, either. It must just be a really weird trip. Maybe I drank too much or just ate the wrong thing. I heard that some mushrooms can be, like, mushrooms. You know? But I don't know why I would imagine a knife. It's a butter knife, too. With one of those short handles and no sharp edge. Because, you know, you don't need a sharp edge to cut butter. Because butter is pretty soft, unless it's like, frozen or something. But who freezes butter? Wo, that knife is still there. And it's dancing around with a fork and a spoon. Which makes me think of that nursery rhyme, hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle. And the thing about the dish running away with the spoon. Which doesn't make any sense because if you were a dish, why would you fall in love with a spoon? I mean, a knife maybe. But not a butter knife.

Monday Book Recs--Stroud, Knowles, Stewart

A Shot in the Dark by K.A. Stewart

I probably should not have read this book out of order. I believe it is the second in the series. I enjoyed it. I love how urban fantasy can turn things like a boy's weekend in the wood playing paintball into something malevolent and deeply meaningful. That's the set up. It gets more complicated. I loved the strange character of Alex, the demon. I liked the rules of demons, too, that they always come back. This seems essentially true to me, of real evil. A new form, but the same underneath. And it works for fantasy, of course. Instead of pretending it's a new evil, we can just accept it isn't. Another thing I really liked about this: that the characters have family. Jesse has a wife and a little girl and wants to live a normal life. I've wondered how it would work to have an ass-kicking demon fighter with a kid. That's a tricky vulnerability, and it's also tricky to play as a writer in terms of balance. I liked how this was done. My only complaint, if it is one: not much here for the girls.

Pearl by Jo Knowles

I remember reading a snip of this book years ago, since Jo is a dear writer friend of mine. It was wonderful to see the whole tale transformed into a perfect book. I loved the narrative voice. If you want a quiet sense of peace in narrative, Jo Knowles in the writer to read. She can tell even the most horrendous truths with a beauty and a kindness that will make you not want to blink while the tears are falling. I didn't know how this was going to turn out, and in my mind, there were several other versions of the ending that were competing. I think that's a good thing, a great thing, actually. I so often guess the endings of books, movies, and TV shows, and I was glad that I didn't guess this one. I also liked how the lesbian romance seemed just so natural, to me as a reader, and to the character. So hard to write it so that she is mad at her mom and doesn't love the girlfriend, but that it isn't about being lesbians. It's about people. Right? And I so loved the sweet, barely there romance here. Friendship is what mattered the most to these characters, as it should. Friendship should always be the beginning of romance, in my opinion. Go forth and read!

The Ring of Solomon by Jonathan Stroud

I ordered this book when it beat out A Conspiracy of Kings for the big YA showdown of the year. I don't know. I liked the book a lot. But there's no way Bartimaeus is a better hero than Eugenidies. Sorry. Aside from that minor disappointment, this had everything I could want to love in a book. A tricksy, snide narrator who is also the main (or one of the main) characters. It was set in the past with lots of eye candy, lots of history to be played with, and a female hero who can kick with Buffy. Romance, not so much. But not every book has to be about romance. In fact, there is something very satisfying about a female heroine who can do just about anything, but doesn't need a man to help her. A demon, maybe, but not a man.

race report Utah Half 2011

It was hard this last week to try to recover from Jordanelle and get ready to do a longer distance race. A half Ironman is 1.2 m swim, 56 m bike, 13.1 m run. This particular race is, as the race website claims the "flatest and fastest" half Ironman course out there. And yes, that is what it says on my race plaque, too. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Friday I did a trial 3 mile run at an easy pace, 9:00 miles and my heart rate was about 10 beats higher than it was the Friday before Jordanelle. That made me a little nervous. I have this year continued with my policy of not setting any formal race goals. That is, not writing them down. This probably mostly only affects my superstitions, but nonetheless, I think it has helped me to be less nervous about races. I am sleeping a little better before races, anyway. And that may help me to be faster. Of course, I always want to do a little better in every race. Last year, my time was 5:30. The year before that it was 5:10, but that was because the swim course was cut in half due to bad weather, and it was also very cool for the run, which is a huge advantage. This year the prediction was in the mid 90's. Yeah, not fun.

This time, it was just my husband and me. We woke up at 5:00, headed down to the lake and unpacked the car. It was completely dark and very difficult to set up our stuff. I was having trouble with my bike's gears, which had been messed up in transit from the last race. I used my iphone as a light to try to figure things out, but it wasn't ideal. I also had to use it to help me gauge the tire pressure to pump to. The race ended up starting about 20 minutes late.

First pet peeve: they said they were going to do the "elite/pro" wave at 6:45. Then they said that they were only having the men in the elite wave, and the elite women, since there were only two, would start with the age group women. At first, I thought, this makes sense. Then when I realized that there were only 4 elite guys, it made less sense and I got pretty angry. Those four guys didn't want to have cooties in the water from the girls swimming with them? The women were upset because the age group women were starting last, which meant the pro women would have to climb over three hundred slower men. And why? WHY? Because girls aren't as important as boys?

OK, deep breath. On to the rest of the race. I said good luck to my husband, who started 5 minutes before me. Then I got into the water. This time, I didn't end up doing any stretches to warm up. On a race this long, I never do a formal warm up because I figure I will just start slow. It's easy for me to take the swim slow. It's my favorite part of the race and I find the swim relaxing. The water was very murky and impossible to see anyone in, even if they were right next to you. I have found more and more that I get passed by almost everyone in the first 200 yards of the swim and I wonder if they are really that much faster than me. About halfway through I discover that no, they're not. They just paced themselves badly and I pass them at my own pace. This race is usually way long on the swim, and either they finally fixed that or I was slamming fast. Last year I finished in 40 min. This year it was only 33. I also got smacked hard in the eye when I was getting out and may be sporting a black eye tomorrow. Very slippery on the docks. But they had wetsuit strippers. I love saying that! Yes, I was stripped!

There was quite a long run to the transition area, then a long run pushing my bike on grass to the asphalt. But this bike was my best EVER! I guess all the conditions conspired to make it perfect. It was still fairy cool, and there was a bit of a southerly wind, which got stronger about when I hit the turnaround to head north again. My average speed was, according to my flinky bike computer, 23.8 mph and there were long, smooth sections where I was hitting 27 mph on the flats and my heart rate was mid 140s. My goal was to keep my heart rate between 140 and 150 the whole time, and I did this. My average was 146. I passed my husband at about mile 10, which is later than usual. I figured he must be hitting about 18 mph, and that turned out to be right. My brain, apparently, was still working on the bike. It wasn't working so well later on.

Near the turnaround I saw how many women were ahead of me. A lot. Last year, there were only about 60 women in the race. This year there were 120. And a lot of them were better than me. (I placed 14th overall among the women.) So it goes. As I always tell myself, I can't control other people in the race. I can only control myself. I can't control the conditions, but I can control how I react to them. About two women passed me on the bike, which is pretty rare. I am usually a demon on the bike. But they were more evil. At the turnaround, I was about in 8th place, and I always drop on the run because I'm not a good runner. The good thing is that I hit absolutely even splits on the bike. Well, I guess there was that tail wind, so maybe I slowed a bit. Thanks to all the police officers who kept me from being hit by a car at those tricky intersections! And very little leapfrogging this year. I did curse when I dropped part of my aero water bottle while trying to refill it. Sigh! I also ran out of fluid about 15 minutes from the finish. So I guess it was hotter than it felt.

Some interesting things on the bike course: I was trying to work on being more talkative and friendly on the course. Not sure if this worked. I came up to a guy and passed him, and noticed that he had the exact same bike as mine (but bigger, of course--mine is a 48 cm with 650 cc wheels), a red 2009 Cervelo 92. So I said, snarkily, "Nice bike." He said, "Thanks." And then I realized he probably thought I was making fun of him for not going as fast as I was going. Or something. So maybe this is why I don't talk much on the bike. Also, I almost got hit by another cyclist when I swerved left to take a sudden corner (into a mobile home park). He apologized to me profusely, but it was completely my fault. I shouldn't have done that without checking over my shoulder to see if someone was there. Biking is a dangerous sport.

I spend a lot of time worrying during races that I will be DQ'd for doing something wrong. My sister asked me last night if I have ever been DQ'd. I said no, but that doesn't stop me from constantly worrying about it on the bike course. It's so hard to figure out how to pass multiple people and still follow the rules. Well, without slowing down dramatically.

On to the run. I took off my biking top (which I had on mainly to protect me from sunburn) and braved the run with just my bra top. I did this after having spent at least an hour on Friday looking at the photos from two years ago which is the only time I have run in a bra top. Let me tell you, they were a little scary. I consider myself fit, but there are some saggy parts there from 6 children. My husband asked if I thought it was faster to run without the top. No, that's not why I took it off. It's just annoying having this wet, drippy thing on and it can increase my chances of getting chafing. My kids told me they thought it looked gross to run with only the bra top, but it wasn't really to look good, either.

Anyway, I started the run and somehow managed to do my first mile in 7:40. I still think that was wrong. I was trying to go slow and my heart rate was under 150. I did the second mile in about 8:30, which seemed more right to me. Then I kept running. Um, not much to say here. I got passed by a couple of women. I marked the ones close on my heels, aware they would probably pass me at some point. I wish that wasn't true, but it is. I finished the first half in about 57:00 minutes, which is decent, but not spectacular.

Then the second loop began. This is where my brain stopped working. The temperature was in the high 80s and when I was in shaded areas, I could mostly run. When I wasn't, my heart rate went up and I couldn't. I looked down at my HR monitor and every time it went about 162, I had to stop and walk until it dropped to 140's. I needed more fluid, but every time I tried to drink what I wanted to, it would slosh around in my stomach. Clearly, I wasn't able to digest it fast enough to keep from dehydrating dramatically.

What I remember about the second half of the course: I saw the lead guy at about mile 9, when he lapped me. He pulled over to the side, puked, and started walking. Just like I was doing. And he got passed by the guy behind him, and couldn't do anything about it. It's not just about wanting something bad enough. I also remember that at about mile 8, I realized I couldn't keep running. I started a walk/run plan which consisted of me running 200-300 steps, then walking 20-30. That's how I kept going from mile 8 to mile 11. Then I ran almost all of the last 2 miles and nearly collapsed at the finish line. I remember watching two women pass me and realizing I couldn't do anything about it, even if I wanted to. I also remember passing a woman and her asking me if I was on my first or second loop. She was close to my age group, but she couldn't do anything about it, either.

Almost everyone on the second half of the run course spent some of the time walking. I think this is just the way it is in half Ironman and Ironman races, even for the pros. I learned from Ironman this year that walking can actually be used to your advantage, and that is what I found today. I did slow down on the second lap, down to 1:03 from :57, just under a minute per mile, but it was still under 10:00 per mile, which is actually pretty good. And it was with regular walking breaks every four minutes. So what does that tell you? I honestly think if I'd tried to run the whole thing, I would have run it more slowly than I walk/ran it. That's my new theory, anyway. Your body is so exhausted you can trick it by giving it little rests into going faster.

I finished in about 5:03 and nearly collapsed across the finish line. I found some shade and ate a half bagel until I could move. Then I hurried into the bathroom area and washed my hair in the sink and rinsed off a bit, then changed into some regular clothes. I just got back out to see my husband cross the finish line in about 5:45, which was much better than his lofty goal of finishing in 6:00. Considering his 3 day a week training plan, this was pretty good. Also, much better than he has done before. So we were both very pleased. We found some chocolate protein drink and drank it. I thought I had taken first in my age group, but alas, it was second.

My husband cleaned up a bit and we headed off to my favorite sushi place. It's over an hour drive from our house, so we don't go often. I was very sad to discover that I could not actually eat enough to make them charge us for the "all you can eat" menu. We ate about 3.5 rolls, which was pitiful. I had been looking forward to this meal all month, the only time we got to eat out together because of poor month. And I couldn't even enjoy the food. I was in agony, my legs stinging, lips hurting, feet throbbing, chafing appearing out of nowhere. The food was delicious, but we couldn't even get the dessert sushi I wanted. Wah!

Now I'm home and hungry again and I've got to figure out what to make for dinner. I bribed the kids to do their chores without me home to supervise, and I owe them some candy bars, too. But I don't want to move. Can I have candy bars delivered to my house, do you think?

Friday Tri: Matchmaking

Last night at a company picnic with my husband, I was listening to an office mate explaining what he had learned about running. He said that if you want to go faster, you have to move your legs faster. I laughed a little, but he didn't think it was that obvious. He explained that he thought (and most people think) that in order to go faster, you have to take longer strides. But in fact, that only ruins your natural rhythm for running and puts you off balance. I knew all this, but it was interesting to hear him talk about it.

A few months ago, he and about four other office mates participated in the annual suffer fest that my husband sponsors, the Salt Lake Half Marathon. He was the one I was most worried about. He was working a lot of hours and he is a bit overweight and a half marathon is not a distance to sneeze at. It's not a full marathon, true, but it's enough to hurt you. I was worried in particular that he would end up pushing himself too hard, get injured, and decide never to run again. I worry about these things! I want other people to find happiness in their workouts. I suppose I feel a bit like an exercise matchmaker. And I want the match to have its best chance.

He hadn't run more than about three or four miles together when I last heard from my husband. 13 miles is a lot more than that. So when my husband finished, I asked if he had seen this guy and how he was doing. I eventually heard that he had run the first three miles and then wisely decided to walk the rest. In fact, he ended up having to deal with a customer while he was on his race, talking on the phone he brought with him. (One reason not to bring a phone to a race.) Anyway, he survived. It was still really a stretch for his abilities, but he didn't get injured as far as I can tell and I was glad about that. I haven't asked if he wants to do it again next year and maybe get a training plan from me. I suppose sometimes you have to let matches work out in their own way.

I have another friend I've trained with off and on over the past year. My husband and kids sometimes let me write up training plans for them if they have specific goals. And of course, I chat about my love of triathlon whenever anyone gives me the least excuse. And when people tell me that they have this injury or that one, and can't run or x, I have to bite my tongue not to try to help them. If they ask, I'm very willing. But you know, sometimes people don't want you to take away their excuses.

I don't want to be pushy. I don't want to sound like an evangelist. I know there are people out there who don't want to be happier with their exercise routine or with their bodies. This boggles my mind, and maybe I don't really accept it in any deep way. But they say this and what can I do? I hate to think that I intimidate people, that they see me and think that whatever I'm doing, they could never do. Because I don't believe I'm particularly naturally talented. I have a few years of experience behind me, but nothing more than that. Oh, and I have time that I've dedicated to working out, but I think that's a personal choice and I could still train someone who has more limited time.

Matchmaking is something I like to do for readers and books, too. It's fun to listen in afterward, as I listened in to the conversation about moving your legs faster, as someone realizes something about a book that I have known for a long time. It doesn't make me feel superior, just satisfied that I found the right match. I suppose I'm a romantic. I'm sure that there is a match for exercise for everyone.

Week 3 of "poor month"

What I spent the last of my grocery money on:
corn on the cob
fresh green beans
fresh tomatoes (4 lbs!)
2 yellow squash

All from the farmer's market. I know it wasn't wise, but I needed fresh, homegrown farm produce and not the stuff from the store.

What I made with these items:
peanut butter, green bean and tofu stir fry with rice
cheese sandwiches, tomatoes and green salad
corn on the cob with homemade bread sticks and garlic butter sauce
zucchini and yellow squash soup with corn in milk and butter (the best soup on the planet!)

What happened when we ran out of toilet paper, lunch meat, all fruits, and margarine:
Search through couch cushions
search through my husband's box of change (taking out quarters only--not too desperate yet)
search through car for emergency $5 in my first aid kit
search through bike repair kits for emergency money (found $10)

What we are still going to run out of:
milk
eggs
decent salad

What we are not going to run out of:
chocolate chips
dried beans
rice
whole wheat
oil
salt
sugar
dried potato flakes
macaroni
canned pears