First of all, praise Jesus that all of my friends back East are safe. Their trees may have been uprooted and their cars may have been crushed, but their spirits are alive. My prayers are with everyone affected by dang Sandy.

Today’s workout:

4.63 mi. paddle from Latigo to past the pier (upwind) and back (just in time for the wind to ease up)

5.30 mi. hillirific Wildwood run/ 40.36 min.

The Malibu International Marathon, Half, and Supathlon (just realized it was a -athlon, not a-thon yesterday… too many school fundraisers) is on the 11th, and I’m super pumped. I’ve never done anything with a “transition zone,” so it’ll be muy interesante.

DB was home today, but we got a late start because he slept in at work this morning. NBD, though, because the fog had burned off by the time we got to da ‘bu:


The concrete curtain on the right separates us minions from the “others.”

The breeze picked up quickly, though. If I don’t ever succeed in trying to convince Oprah to buy me a home on the Riviera in Montecito, I’ll focus my efforts on nabbing any of these gems:


I’ve surfed this place double-overhead before.


Photo courtesy of DB. I scored in the husband department.

You know how when you do chest compressions in CPR, you’re supposed to pump 30 pumps to the beat of “Staying Alive?” Well, a friend of mine gave me some tips on more efficient paddling (similar to efficient running, actually), and told me to essentially quicken the cadence of my strokes. That means for at least a couple minutes, I was paddling to the Bee Gees. Until the song in my head turned randomly to Jeff Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah.” Don’t ask.

Maybe I have my own in-head intern.

I should have brought a camera on the water. Visibility was INSANE, and we were greeted by dolphins who were practicing their tricks just off the pier.

Here’s another animal who can do cool tricks:


Day drinking at the SB Zoo.

I won a game like this one year at an International Festival party where DB and I dressed up as Brit Brit and K Fed to represent the US of A. There was a box that the “race director” cut progressively shorter with each round, and we had to pick it up with our teeth without bending our legs. I feel like there were jello shots involved, but I can’t be certain.

Speaking of healthy living, I sucked up my pride and went to see my doctor today to get a referral for my right hammy.


Always come prepared.

It was at my doc’s office that I was reminded how small the world is. Here’s how our convo went after he interrogated me about my running and the injury to fill out the referral form:

“Where do you live?” (I thought this was strange coming from a doctor.)

“Thousand Oaks.”

“Around CLU?”


“You run around there.”

“I do.”


He laughed and acted angry; I was super embarrassed.

I HATE passing people on training runs (because being passed makes me feel like a slow poke fail… oh wait…), so I usually cross the street if I’m going to pass people. (I don’t think this is an etiquette thing; a simple “on your left” will suffice.) But I couldn’t cross because we were running up Lynn Road during rush hour traffic, and crossing wasn’t an option, so I just slowed my pace, politely said, “Good evening,” and went on my way.

Thank goodness I didn’t shove him out of the way and yell, “GET OUT OF MY WAY, SLOW POKE!!!” like I usually do.

And thank goodness he’s a runner. Because only a runner would understand that to stop running would crush my soul.

Perhaps he’ll let the PT do that.

But for now, I’ll be thankful for a healthy, strong body, and manners that my mother instilled in me (despite what she might say).