Heavy Breathing and a Little Screaming

This morning I took my mountain bike out for some girl-on-dirt action.

I hauled some serious ass. (Seriously, my ass is huge lately) I hauled it uphill for 5+ miles.

In last week's fiery extravaganza I found the perfect excuse not to run but to put on about 5 pounds of soda weight instead (I know, I know). Needless to say, it was a little difficult for me to find good lines on the trail today.

Confidence: shaken, not stirred.

The picture is of the Cathedral section of the trail, which I did not get to today. I didn't eat enough breakfast before I headed out. Sucked a lot of wind. Almost blew chunks. Took the easy way out.

The "easy way" is to just ride the long slow uphill for about 2.6 miles to where the really fun and technical downhill section ends (if you're going the other way). My friend, Zack, (who also got me started rock climbing, btw) did our usual loop and met me there. Then when we got back to the trailhead, he talked me into doing it again -- which I am so glad I did.

The second round was MUCH better. After taking in a gel, I could BREATHE and I definitely felt more connected to the trail.

I ended up riding about 10.5 miles, with half of that uphill. Not bad, but TONS better than the crappy 5.2 miles I almost ended the day on.

Confidence: stirred.

I topped off the day with 20 minutes of trail running at sunset, which was a real gasp-fest. Then I apparently got a little too close to an owl's nest (or some other bird-of-prey's territory). In the last 2 minutes of the run, this bird swooped my head TWICE, screaming at me. Then I was screaming. And then I was running really fast...not because I'm hardcore, but because I was SCARED, okay? I don't know if that really qualifies as an intact finishing kick because it was fueled by adrenaline, not will or might.

Conclusion: I am in deep doo-doo for Saturday's race.