the day I stop getting nervous for races

I was editing something on my blog the other day and I noticed in my bio I wrote, “The day I stop getting nervous for races is the day I stop racing.” It struck me a little, as I noticed this year’s build for Ironman Coeur d’Alene felt a little different than years past. I don’t have my massive spreadsheets of predicted times and I haven’t scoped out my competition. I haven’t done any forecasting on how many Kona spots will be awarded to the W30-34 age group and I didn’t even look up my bib number until today (#425 – seems like a good one, I’d say). Had the fire in my belly burned out? Where was the fierce competitor that pictured herself on top of the podium? Is the absence of a “Kona or bust” mentality working against me? Is it just that after nine Ironmans #10 is going to seem like no big deal? Or worst of all, have I fallen out of love with Ironman and am I not going to get nervous for my race this week? Maybe my neurosis just died down a little…

Training has gone well this season and while there haven’t been any workouts ending in panic or tears for fear of a bad race, there have been many other emotions that have been poured into this year’s training. There have been fun-filled morning swims, from holiday themes to swim tests to beautiful open water swimming. I’ve gone on many bike rides solo, in groups, with old friends, new friends, and the boyfriend. And there have been many runs filled with laughter, but also tears – like the times I think about my dad’s cancer or when I thought about the bombings in Boston or just some solo long runs filled with self-reflection on what makes me happy, sad, or excited!

Some of that self-reflection included “what the hell am I doing with this sport?” And I believe the answer is still a work in progress. When I first got into triathlon it was for something fun and exciting to do, something to challenge myself and push my limits. I later progressed into chasing podium finishes and World Championship qualifications and I’ve even flirted with the idea of going pro in this sport. But those goals would all be for naught if I wasn’t excited to toe the line race morning. And I can assure you, that is not the case; I am still looking forward to race day! Wednesday morning I was having a quick chat with my coach after swimming and we were talking about CDA and how a lot of people in Seattle have shied away from it this year, because of some of the later season races that are now offered (Tahoe and Whistler added in 2013). She mentioned that you really need to have your act together to be ready for CDA and I brushed it off like, “oh yeah, you do…it’s been a good race for me.” And then Kainoa’s eye lit up as she said, “oh, it’ll be good to you this year too,” which made my eyes light up, which was basically like tinder exposed in the Northern Idaho sunlight waiting to fire up in my belly.

And ever since then I’ve had race butterflies, so I know I will be ALL IN on race day. It’s a race and lifestyle that still makes my heart pitter-patter, even if perhaps after CDA I might need a break from full Ironman for a while. I thought a lot about this year’s race emotions this past weekend and noticed that I’m going into Sunday with feelings that are a bit different than what they were 2 years ago. I don’t know if it’s my maturity as a person, experience as an athlete, or the fact that other life things seem a lot bigger this year. From friends having babies, to thoughts on my dad, to my own relationships, or watching friends go through injuries, I’m reminded of what Kara Goucher says: “it’s just running.” (Well, swimming, biking, and running, but you get the idea. And yes, I’ll relate to Kara Goucher whenever I can…perhaps delusional self-confidence also comes with age.)

While I can’t say what’s next after this race, I can assure you (and more importantly myself) that it was a good idea to go through this journey and there are no plans to stop racing for a long, long time. Best of luck to all competitors who toe the line on in Coeur d’Alene on Sunday! Have a safe and special day. And thank you to everyone who helped me get to the start line healthy and happy. Ironman is a good, long race and I’m sure I will feel your presence as I’m fighting through the pain on Sunday!

With Heart,

Cathleen

Park Tour!

A few weeks ago my friend Arielle tweeted this article by professional cyclist Alison Tetrick: “20 Tips on how to be a Triathlete by a Cyclist.” While I may disagree or struggle with some of these tips (like #20 the bike is the best part of triathlon – I can’t cheat on my first true love, running), she brings up some very valid points to embrace the practicality, beauty and style of riding a bike. I particularly like #14: Cycling doesn’t have to always be considered a “workout.”

However, with a full plate of workouts during a training build, it’s sometimes hard to find time to pump up the tires, slap on the spandex, and spin around for a while. But every time that I do, I fall in love with the bike even more and tell myself that someday when this serious triathlon stint ends, I’ll still put in bike miles because it’s just so damn fun.

It's especially fun when the Pacific Northwest weather is so beautiful.

One of my favorite ways to enjoy riding my bike when I’m not training or doing a workout is through “Park Tour.” Park Tour is something Gerry (the BF) introduced me to a couple years ago. It goes like this:

1.       Grab your bike and helmet on a nice day.

2.       Fill a backpack with a few beers.

3.       Bike to a park.

4.       Hang out and enjoy a beer.

5.       Repeat until the sun goes down or you’re out of beer.

There’s no shortage of public parks in Seattle, so we change up our route and sometimes we can convince other friends to join us. No matter the parks or the beer or the friends, it’s always a good time. It’s a great, cheap date and the public parks are much more enjoyable than a stuffy bar. Put away your bike computer, call up a friend, and head out on Park Tour. I’m quite certain you won’t be disappointed. Obviously take caution when drinking and biking and having open containers in public places.

Part of the tour: Golden Gardens, Greenlake, Madrona

Continued: Lake Union, (sometimes there's a pub stop), Lake Union from another angle.

I’ve also embraced the practicality of cycling by turning in my parking pass at work and becoming a regular bike commuter. It adds another level of complexity (and packing and changing clothes) to Ironman training, but the easy spin in Seattle’s awesome springtime weather twice a day plus the cost savings makes it completely worth it.

Ride safe and enjoy the bike! Rubber side down!

-Cathleen

 

My Biggest Fan

I remember the first time I had to talk about my dad’s cancer. I was in high school Spanish class and one of my friends asked me from across the room how my dad was doing. It was a small town and everyone knew everything about everyone else. I stood there silent, not wanting to talk about it, in true stoic Knutson fashion, acting like everything was going to carry on like it always had. And for the most part it did. In the late 90s my dad had a couple surgeries to remove areas of skin and a lymph node to combat against Melanoma. My dad’s lifestyle changed a bit. He wore long sleeved shirts and pants when he golfed and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat when he skied. He moved his golf matches to early mornings or later evenings and stopped playing our Country Club’s men’s league, which took place in the heat of the sunny afternoons. I don’t think he minded too much, since he could still get in a lot of rounds after work as he chased the daylight, but I'm sure it wasn't his happiest decision to make. My dad was once a "+1" handicap and won our club championship more times than I can remember, so taking him out of league play was the equivalent of taking the hometown 2:30 marathoner out of the local racing circuit. I think deep down he missed playing in a competitive league every Thursday. But for the rest of the family, we could mostly carry on. We loaded on the sunscreen, took lots of caution in the sun, and made annual dermatology appointments. But mostly, cancer was just something my dad had (at one time), but we could kind of forget about it.

Years later it was 2010 and I was racing for the first time in Kona. My dad had mentioned some pain in his back, but he wasn’t too concerned, as he had back problems over the years. Several weeks later, it was two days before I was supposed to fly home to MN to be in my friend's wedding Thanksgiving weekend. It had snowed in Seattle and things were just a little off. I remember picking up the phone and hearing my dad's voice crack as he told me he was going in for emergency surgery to remove a malignant tumor that had formed and was approximately the size of a tennis ball. All this had come as a shock. Yes, my dad had been in and out of dermatologists’ offices for years, but we all thought, including several of his doctors that his surgeries in the late 90's and several treatments had kept the disease at bay. Besides, several weeks earlier my dad was his old self - watching me race my first Ironman Kona and then flying to Florida with my mom for a dental convention-golf-Florida Keyes whirlwind vacation. Despite the large tumor that was slowly forming near his spinal cord, the man knew how to have a good time.
 
I remember hanging up the phone and falling to the floor in a flood of tears- angry, sad, confused. I called my friend, Ellie, who was a resident at Mayo Clinic and could explain to me, very objectively what to expect the day of his surgery. Things like - it will take much longer than you expect, so if you don't get a call immediately after the expected time, don't panic. The surgeons will likely be going back and forth with the pathologist to inspect the tissue and any malignant areas. Ellie, with her calming nature, really made me feel better.
 
Two days later my uncle picked me up from the MSP airport and brought me to the hospital to visit my dad whose surgery was a success. When I asked my uncle how my mom was doing, he told me, "She seems okay. I found her hours into the surgery in the waiting room reading. But I also noticed she was on page 2 of her book." My mother has been a solid rock for all of us, wiping away tears and going to every single one of my dad’s oncology appointments. I didn't cry when I saw my dad his hospital gown, but it was a shock. His face was swollen from the hours of surgery and he had a scrape on his face from the adhesion that stuck from being face down for over 5 hours as the doctors carved into his vertebrae. My dad, mom, uncle, and I had our very own Thanksgiving dinner in one of the corners of the surgical wing of Abbott-Northwestern Hospital. In true Knutson fashion, my uncle snuck a bottle of wine in to pour into Dixie cups, as we toasted and were thankful for a successful surgery.
 
As the year progressed, my dad went through radiation and chemotherapy treatments. He wasn't able to ski over Christmas as he had originally planned (it was supposed to be a mini Knutson family reunion with his brother and the nieces, nephews, and my dad's great-nieces and nephews). But he insisted that I still ski, "I'd rather have you out on the ski hill with your uncle and cousins than home in the living room with me." So, I obliged and was able to ski 5 days with my relatives, while my dad was receiving radiation treatment at home.
 
By February 2011, he had a break between radiation and chemotherapy and was able to ski again; I was lucky enough to join him for that trip. My dad lives for skiing; I believe it's where he was his happiest. The weeks of chemotherapy were hard, but he was able to get it administered in my hometown and had a full schedule of dental patients around his chemo schedule. Things started to look better. In May, my siblings and I were in Arizona for the weekend for my grandmother's funeral. The night before we flew home, my dad sat us down and explained that Stage IV Melanoma typically has a 1-2 year life expectancy. Once again we all hand our tears. It’s one thing to look up the different stages and life expectancy of cancer patients on the internet; it’s another thing to hear it from your dad and know that it's real. Considering the fact that I look up to my dad in just about every way possible, this news was hard to take. But I also promised him I’d take his advice and not change my life just because of his diagnosis. I would train hard and race well, all the while thinking about my dad and PRAYING for scientific advancements to extend his life.
 
Now here we are, more than two years later and my dad is still around to give me advice on life’s instructions. His sage advice has included things like: “sports are cruel” whenever I've had my lows in athletics or things seem unfair and how to be a good sport whether you’re winning or losing. He's given me tips on everything from jobs to investments to ski trips to travel to spending time with my relatives to preparing for a big athletic event. And while I’m forever thankful for every day that he is alive, the rollercoaster that is cancer had become quite tiresome.

He’s received rounds of CyberKnife treatments, several different types of chemotherapy drugs, any many different MRIs, CT, and PET scans. They've found growths near his brain and liver, which is common with Melanoma. He has weekly visits to an assortment of doctors. And although he is getting good care, there's no shortage of anxiety for all of us who wait to hear updates. I hate to complain about my pains, but on my end there have been too many bike rides or long runs when the tears have just streamed down my face or swims when my goggles get wet from the inside. Last year, I chose some races closer to home, so I could see my dad and I’ve also contemplated hanging up the racing shoes for the rest of the season to visit home more often and be a better daughter (or at least feel like it). I’ve found myself crying in the car, on walks with friends, and on my boyfriend’s couch. Even some afternoons at work it just hits me pretty hard. Having a support network available has helped me cope, but I realized the length of my dad’s life is in God’s hands. For that time period, hopefully extended time period, I’m thankful for science and technology advances that have kept him fairly comfortable. I realize there's nothing I can do to help get rid of his cancer. I just have to love him and pray for the best outcome. I hope that he will quickly sell his dental practice, so he can stop seeing patients (though retirement and saying goodbye to his practice won’t be easy) and start spending more time golfing and traveling with my mom.
 
I will never understand why cancer hurts so many good people. But in my dad’s case, he’s taken his experience to teach his kids and many friends and family that giving up is not an option. Your strong Norwegian will, has once again proven just how tough you are. Happy 64th birthday to my dad tomorrow! Two years ago, we weren’t sure this day would come. I remember my dad thought it was a big deal when Paul McCartney turned 64, so I can only imagine he's pretty emotional about being able to see this day come when not so long ago things were uncertain. I'm sure he'll be humoring my mom singing “When I’m Sixty-Four…” all day. Sixty-four and beyond, we will always need you, even if it’s just through the life lessons that you teach us. I love you, dad!

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64....?

This song is pretty adorable.

From top left clockwise: IM Wisconsin 2009, Hawi with my parents, my dad and mom
skiing on Christmas Day, Blue Sky Basin at Vail with my Dad, Knutson siblings at KFR 2012

Summer Training Go-to Packing List

As many of you know, I spend a lot of summer weekends training east of the Cascade Mountains. Sydnie’s (my best friend) dad has a house near Lake Chelan and coincidentally my boyfriend’s family (another triathlete) has a house three miles down the road. So there’s usually a small group of friends interested in seeking sunshine and open roads for a weekend getaway, as soon as the training volume picks up. The landscape between Wenatchee and Chelan is rocky with a lot of good climbs and long stretches of road. Last weekend I rode 100 miles with a total of 5 stop signs. And the weather tends to be hotter and dryer than Seattle, especially in the spring months. I’ve spent close to 10 weekends per year over there over the past few seasons. Despite the fact that packing and unpacking nearly every weekend can start to be a chore, the post-workout nap or float in the river and barbeque with friends is pretty relaxing. And it’s typically better recovery than when I stay home on the weekends and try to attend to errands, wedding/baby showers, birthday parties, dinners across town, and household tasks.

I went ahead and put together my go-to list for our summer road trips to Chelan. It’s basically my own little packing list that I plan on using most weekends this summer. This way I can refer to it when I pack up my things every Thursday night and hit the road after work every Friday afternoon. Sydnie and I have our routine down well enough that we know whose turn it is to pick up snacks from Whole Foods and who will pick up Starbucks smoothies with our summer Treat Receipts.

Here’s my list. I think I also need a mixed CDs section on my blog for good road trip music.

Swim

·         Swimsuit

·         Wetsuit

·         Cap and goggles

·         Body glide

·         Sunscreen – spray and face (the good stuff) and Chapstick

·         Flip flops

·         Towel

Bike

·         Bike shorts (2)
·         Bike jersey/tank (2)
·         Arm warmers
·         Bike jacket (only in spring)
·         Rain jacket (spring)
·         Sunglasses – sporty and cute
·         Bike Pump
·         Helmet
·         Bike shoes
·         Tights, if springtime cold
·         Tubes and CO2

Run

·         Running shoes
·         Running tanks
·         Running shorts
·         Socks (2)
·         Sports bras (3)
·         Running Visor

Non-workout clothes and Other

·         Underwear and non-sports bra bras
·         Toiletries
·         Garmin and charger
·         Phone Charger
·         Extra visor/hat (non-sweaty)
·         Shorts/cut-off (2)
·         Jeans
·         Oiselle jacket and sweatshirt
·         Long-sleeve
·         T-shirts (2)
·         Tanks (2)
·         Nicer outfit for wine tasting?
·         Pajamas/Lounging clothes

Nutrition and Recovery

·         Calories for s/b/r – I usually count this out Thursday night and then add extra gels/bars just in case
·         Water bottles
·         Nuun – so much nuun (I make sure I drink at least one bottle of this before I crack my first post-workout brewski)
·         Magazines and book
·         Movies
·         The Stick and foam roller
·         Coffee/Via
·         Grocery List/Recipes - sometimes I'll make pasta or quinoa salads ahead of time (sometimes)
·         Cookies - my go to cookie recipe is this one

Okay, back to packing!

Pictures from Chelan the past couple years

KBO Boston

My friend mentioned this paraphrasing Winston Churchill: “Keep Buggering On Boston.” Like everyone in the running community and around the world, I was struck by the tragic news on Monday. There have been tears with every sad news story and all the coverage of the finish line.

For many years Boston was a pilgrimage. I’d meet up with training partners, stay with some family friends, spend time with family, drink celebratory Harpoon, stop at Mike’s Pastry, and there was ALWAYS post-race JPLick’s. The Boston Marathon is built on tradition and I certainly enjoyed several of my own. For so many people who struggle for years to qualify, getting to the start line in Hopkinton is biggest running goal. The run into Boston is a celebration; it’s a 26.2 mile long tail-gate. I’ve had good races and bad races in Boston. But even when the running stops being fun (like the Newton Hills), the event, the volunteers, the crowds are still world-class.
 
The first year I ran Boston was in 2004. I was 22 and a senior in college. I flew out by myself and stayed with some friends (Mark and Bobbi) of my uncle, who had recently switched hospitals from Brigham and Women’s in Boston to Bellevue in NYC. Mark and Bobbi were extremely helpful and accommodating, but I went through most of the marathon motions on my own. This was totally fine with me. I knew I’d never feel alone among the thousands of runners in the city. All the fans and participants were so welcoming.
 
I wasn’t having a particularly good run. As a relatively new runner, I didn’t realize the importance of listening to my body 3 weeks prior when I began feeling pain in my left foot. That pain, which I tried to mask with Tylenol on race morning, became increasingly strong shortly after heartbreak hill. I’m guessing somewhere around Boston College is when the 3rd metatarsal in my foot really broke (days later after flying back to Spokane I could see the break on an x-ray from way across the room). From about mile 22 on I hobbled past the CITGO sign and Fenway, tears and frustration on my face. But when I took a right turn onto Hereford and that famous left turn onto Boylston, I ran. I crossed that sweet stretch of road that is the finish line of the Boston marathon and hugged a volunteer.
 
I was wheeled into the medical tent and taped up with athletic tape, but the race medics could only take care of me so far, unless I wanted to go to the hospital. They helped me find my dry clothes bag and I figured I could call Mark and Bobbi to pick me up, even though my original plan was to take the train. This was before I had a cell phone, so I called my dad from a pay phone but he didn’t have the phone number to where I was staying (I’m never this ill-prepared).
 
What happened next is quintessential Boston Marathon camaraderie: I hung up the phone and started crying. I had just run a marathon, my foot was broken, and I had no way of getting home unless it was crawling to find a cab. A spectator came up to me and asked me what was wrong. Between sobs, I explained and he calmly figured out a plan. He’d carry me on his back to the T, we’d get off at the Back Bay, and his friend’s husband would drive me to Jamaica Plain where I was staying. Sweaty, snotty, salty, and gross, I climbed up onto this stranger’s back and he carried me down the stairs of the T, onto the crowded train, and to his friend’s car. As he left I asked if there was any way I could repay him and his response was: “no, just be sure to thank a soldier.” He’s an angel is what I’ve come to believe. His friends dropped me off and I made it home safely. I went on to run Boston 6 more times and every finish line was special.
 
This act of kindness was simply for a stupid girl who didn’t have the phone number to where she was staying and didn’t listen to her body when she probably shouldn’t have been running. I can only imagine the outpouring of kindness and love by the spectators, volunteers and runners who were there yesterday. I’m inspired and hopeful for this world because of the people who ran to help, the spectators who opened the arms and their homes as we mourn, and the running community who will rise above this.
 
Yesterday I had 2 cousins running (they finished in 2:52 and 3:05) as well as their dad (my uncle). My cousins were waiting in the family reunion area and my uncle was at mile 25 when the explosions happened. My other cousins, who live in Boston and my aunt, were on the train en route to the finish line. It was a bit chaotic, but they met up relatively quickly (within an hour) and soon got out of the city safely. I felt so badly for my uncle whose dream it was to finish the Boston marathon with his sons, but then I was happy to know he was safe with family.
 
The Boston Marathon is and always will be a very special race for me and for every runner who toes the line. It’s hard to know the crippling impact of yesterday’s tragic events and what it means for future races, but I do know this: There are very few things I would trade for the ability to run down Boylston on Patriot’s Day.
 
I’m sure I’ll run Boston again, maybe next year, maybe years from now. It’s too soon to tell, but until then Keep Buggering On Boston.

2013 Oceanside 70.3 Race Report

I am still smiling from Saturday’s race! After a 2012 season of ups and downs it was a good reminder of how much I love this sport! And it was exactly what I want in a race – good competition and the feeling like I left everything out there on the course. Oceanside 70.3 has become a favorite on the race calendar and this year was no different. When it’s raining in the Pacific Northwest through the winter and I see “race day” on my calendar as early as March, it’s been a good motivator to put in the work and show up ready to not embarrass myself against the fast California girls. It’s always hard to know what race ready fitness will show up on the first race of the year, but that’s part of what makes this event a combination of really exciting + less pressure, because the last time I put a wetsuit on or biked outside in a tank top was in September.

Sydnie and I flew down Wednesday after work and checked into our condo located right on the run course late that night. Thursday we did a little shake out jog, grocery shopped, relaxed, picked up bikes, and checked in at the expo. We were invited, a la Twitter, to attend a lunch hosted by Triathlete Magazine. Thanks to Julia at Triathlon Magazine we got to meet Lesley Patterson and Ben Hoffman and a bunch of industry people (Bonk Breakers, SRAM, Specialized, etc.). We felt a little dorky when people would ask who we were with…”um, Twitter?” but it was a pretty fun time. Kendra, who I met last year in St. George and who would go on to win the W30-34 age group, was there too, so it was also fun to catch up with her. Friday was typical pre-race stuff: easy swim/bike/run, sort race equipment, eat a lot, hang out with teammates, feet up, rest.

After getting set up in transition, it was the waiting game as my age group was off at 7:30 while the pros started at 6:40. It’s kind of frustrating to know how many age groups will be cluttering the swim, bike, and run courses, but you just have to roll with it. Sydnie and I lined up and waited until our wave was ready to swim out to the start line. Countdown to 7:30…boom! Off with the pack. I was very happy with my swim, because unlike last year I stayed right on top off the buoys and felt like I kept a good pace. It was a bit crowded coming back and I had to remind myself a couple times to pick it up rather than settling in behind some of the other waves’ caps. I checked the clock as I got out of the water and I knew it was a swim PR for me. 31:37 – just a side note: all the swim times were pretty fast that day. While I’ll take a good swim time (for me), I’m a bit suspect that it was either a bit short or there was a current in our favor. I came out of the water in 20th place, so yeah, there’s still a lot of swim work to do!

T1 was ugly and slow and after 3 minutes and 50 seconds of running from the boat ramp to the bike racks, taking off my wetsuit, and putting on my gear, I was on my bike. I’m hoping for faster transitions the rest of the year, as these are typically smooth and quick. The bike felt good, not great, I maintained pace, and passed people on the climbs. For my current state of fitness, I biked a respectable 2:44:52. It’s definitely not my fastest bike split, but in an effort to prevent burnout this season and not targeting this as an “A” race, I’ve only put in a couple rides longer than 3 hours in training in 2013. The volume and intensity will pick up over the next couple months, but for now my training was adequate to get me to the start line happy and healthy.

Laser focused and weaving
through AGs on the run

After a quick T1 I was out on the run course. My plan was to start out at a 6:45-6:50 pace, see how I felt in the first 5k and then figure out if that was something I could maintain or just how much I’d have to let up. But within the first half mile, I knew that was too fast. I just felt kind of flat coming off the bike (see above: less than a few longer rides in 2013) and my first few strides told me I’d really have to dig deep. For the first lap I focused on catching Hana from Zoot, which I did and then set our pace for a few miles. When she caught back up to me on the second lap I tried my hardest to drop her. I was weaving through the other age groupers on the Strand and tried fartleks to give myself a gap. But she held on (and later I met Hana at awards and she was really cool and nice). When she passed me on the uphill, I told myself to just worry about your own race. And honestly, that’s all I could do to not blow up. In the last 4 miles I thought about how much I’d regret it if let up or jogged it in. I knew that I wasn’t crushing it and there were still girls to catch, so I looked up the road, zoned in, and tried to pass as many people as I could. I didn’t look at my watch; I wasn’t counting mile markers or places. I don’t think I’ve ever been as focused at the end of a race, as I was on Saturday. Later my teammates made comments to me like, “whoa…you barely even looked up when I saw you out there” or “man, you looked intense.” Sorry; I really did appreciate the support! Even when I hit last 100 meters of the finish chute, I made sure to catch that guy (couldn’t even tell you what he looked like, but I caught him). My run time was 1:33:24 and moved me from 9th off the bike to 5th place in the W30-34 age group for a total finish time of 4:55:12 (originally I was told I moved from 20th to 5th, but that was 20th out of the water). And as a side note: my podium twin (5th place M30-34) was Jenson Button. My boyfriend informed me of this, because he’s a Formula 1 fan; otherwise, I had no idea.

 

Clockwise from top left: With World Champion Lesley Patterson, pre-swim with Sydnie,

Sydnie on the uphill, finish area with Jake, team awards with PauoleSport

 

This wasn’t a PR, but it was close. It was off by about a minute. But, the race was a success for so many other reasons! I finished feeling like I couldn’t give anything more on that day. I know I have potential to go faster, but I’d rather tap into that for my “A” races this year. And more than anything, I had a blast out there. I was a bit nervous going into Saturday’s race after a somewhat difficult 2012 season. And there were several times on the bike that I was smiling and just truly happy to be out there. It was a successful trip and a successful start to the 2013 season! I can’t wait to see what the rest of the year brings.



View from our condo

Thanks to Sydnie, Kara, Jessie, and Danny for being great housemates for the weekend! Thank you to the ladies at Oiselle who make me feel supported from every facet in life and ready to FLY on race day and to Nuun for keeping me hydrated. Also, a big thanks to coach Jake for flying down to Oceanside to cheer for our team and support PauoleSport.

Active and Catalyst - Activyst!

Do you ever meet those people and think, “Wow! Someday they are going to do something great!” Well, this wasn’t my first impression of my freshman roommate. Sorry Leigh, but it wasn’t; she could definitely say the same for me. Eighteen-year-old girls sometimes need some shell breaking! Leigh and I never had truly philosophical talks in our dorm room, unless it was comparing Philosophy 101 homework (Gonzaga required 4 years of Philosophy classes). We did our homework, played our sports, and went to class. We also went to basketball games, parties, and fun things on campus - typical college freshman stuff. Leigh and I met in August 2000, she was on the tennis team at GU and I was on the golf team. We were friends, but not best friends. We lived together again sophomore year, but after I studied abroad junior year, we drifted apart, as you kind of do in college, but were still close enough on small campus. Years later, Leigh called me up when she was visiting Seattle – married to a fellow Gonzaga Bulldog and finishing up her MBA in Ohio, they were looking for a new city to settle down. As we chatted, sipped our beers, and caught up on life over the past decade, Leigh told me about this new business plan she and her tennis teammate, Katie, were working on. I was immediately intrigued. The concept was fairly simple: sell bags using material made by women in other countries and use a portion of the profit to help girls in those countries play sports. I knew with the hard work, talent, and energy these girls had, the company would become a success. I was lucky enough to watch from its concept stage to the company launch. The information below is from their website and their Indiegogo fundraising page. Check them out!

Activyst is a combination of two words we love - active and catalyst - because when girls are active, it's a catalyst for change in their lives. Our mission is to change the world by helping girls play sports. We do this by creating bold, functional athletic bags that generate funding for girls’ sports organizations worldwide.

 

We're on a mission: to help more girls play sports by creating bold, functional athletic bags for women. Many girls in the word are suffering – teen pregnancy, abuse, chronic disease, illiteracy, depression, and the list goes on.

We’ve spent over a year designing and prototyping to create a bag that meets active women's needs. Collaborating with a former designer for Betsey Johnson and a bagmaker who spent decades at Quiksilver, we focused on functionality and simple, yet fashion-forward design.

 

Our first line is made of macen, used in Activyst’s birthplace of Nicaragua for everything from hammocks, to harvesting coffee, to transporting goods. It's the "material of the people" and we're excited to use it in a new way. Activyst bags are durable, waterproof, have awesome features, and are pretty cute to boot, so you can rock them during all adventures in your everyday active life.

Through bag sales, we fund non-profits providing sports opportunities to girls worldwide. Having worked in international development, we know that each non-profit partner will have unique needs and goals; so we structure bag sales around meeting those specific needs. Their first two projects will partner with Soccer Without Borders.

In other exciting Activyst news, they have just announced their CUSTOM BAG CONTEST. If 4 people from a community (gym/yoga studio/run club/tri team/etc) buy a bag, they will be entered into the contest. The winning team will get to help design a new bag (fabric, color, print) and the bags are named after your studio or team. Activyst will even sell a limited edition of your line on their website. You can read more about it here. I've already entered my triathlon team into the contest and am keeping my fingers crossed for a PauoleSport team bag.

Make sure you check them out, especially the touching video on their Indiegogo site. I just watched it for the at least the tenth time and I still love it. I think sometimes we forget how lucky we are to grow up in an environment where it's common and encouraged to run around and play or bike or swim with friends - girlfriends. I'm surrounded by athletic women everywhere - at work, my closest friends, teammates, my family, my college roommates. And because of that, I believe, I live a more fulfilling and inspired life. Please help spread the word about this budding new company. You can visit their website here.