So, it's a new month, and the weather is of course just crappy — rain and cold. I am afraid this will have an effect on my race day. Still, I will just buckle down and do the duty, and then go to work. It will take a lot of energy, but that's what I am all about. E=mc² + 1.
Ok, lots happened. I went to my race at Lake Issaquah. The night before it rained and rained. I woke after an hour of sleep to find the rain had just stopped. Drove to Issaquah with Ozzy Osbourne blaring — Crazy Train. I arrived to find 500 people, about 90% with wetsuits. I did not have a wetsuit. Only hardcores don't have wetsuits, so I guess I was a hardcore. In reality I was scared, but I had to keep up appearances.
The water was SO cold. The gun went off and it was a bloody free-for-all — people swimming over me, under me, kicking from all sides. I made it to shore in the middle of the pack, body red from the cold water. On the bike I crashed once taking a turn (tires slipped out), got back on, then almost crashed again when another rider went down on a wooden bridge. Made up time on the sprint sections. The run was cross-country through terrain I had scouted. Cat and mouse with one guy all the way to the last 500 metres — we finished in a dead tie, or close enough that everyone called it one. He asked for water; I asked for water. He asked for the cardiac tent. That was the last I ever saw of him, but there weren't any sirens, so I suspect he made it ok.
After the race: flu. HARD. Crawled into bed for 24 hours. Went to work anyway because I am a workaholic. Went home after 4 hours. Slept until Wednesday.
In other news, a new ferret named Sylvia came to stay temporarily. She bit me twice hard enough to draw blood. I had to wear work gloves to handle her. My ferrets hated her. I am giving her back. I tried to be Dr. Doolittle — I am not. I hope she finds a barn somewhere and becomes an excellent rat catcher.
Just back from a small weather window. One day before the rain came back, so I went up to Stevens Pass for geocaching. Found one called "4:20 Stash" — how could I resist with a title like that? Also found the Crescent Lake Cache, which was situated between two prison work farms. I had never seen one before, as I thought they were only in the south. There they were — milking cows and toting bales.
Found the entrance to the old Cascade Tunnel on the way. Fog was pouring out of it like water. Really felt like I was on the set of the X-Files.
It was 4 years ago today that we drove that big old U-Haul up that steep hill in West Seattle. A lot has changed since that day. He seems like some sort of history project. I wouldn't change a thing, and would do it all again if I had to. Enough said — time to move on.
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." — Theodore Roosevelt
The house is clean — after, well, a long time. Now it's so clean I am scared to touch anything.
Last weekend: drove to the Round Mountain trailhead after work at 1am, freaked myself out about Bigfoots and UFOs in the dark, couldn't sleep until 3:30am when the sun started coming up and the demons of my mind went away. Hit the trail at dawn, found a geocache called "She'll be coming…" — I was the first person ever to find it. Fired off the cap gun inside, delighted myself with the sound. Then hiked to the Alpine Lookout Tower, 3.5 miles further, for a breakfast with a mountain view.
The next day, road-biked 26.2 miles on the Burke Gilman Trail to the NOAA station on Lake Washington — the place that gave Soundgarden their name. Left a Chris Cornell CD. Met another geocacher, a CEO who takes executives into the wilderness for leadership training. He thought I might be able to get a job with him. I thought: maybe.
Geocaching mission ended with only a 40% find rate — 2 out of 5. The one I most wanted, called Slippery Root at Seahurst Park, remained elusive despite mucking around in rain-forest mud for an hour. GPS signal kept bouncing. I made it within .04 miles. Not today.
The win was the Ant Hill Cache on Totem Hill — surrounded by strip malls, one isolated hill, lots of stoner artifacts. I had to think like a stoner to find it. Then it came to me, and I found it. Good site location. Left a Brokedown Palace CD, took a 386 CPU chip — genuinely useful in 2001.
The Mariners are on a historic run — best starting record since the 1939 Yankees. They had Joe DiMaggio back then. We don't have any superstars, just a well-rounded team. History in the making, and I am glad to say I was there.