It has been awhile since I’ve posted. I have been readjusting to working full time (sigh) and having very busy weekends. I’ve mentioned in the past that San Francisco has a penchant for being friendly. I have locked in to the sailing circuit thanks to a few friends back in Youngstown. Rolf, my old sailing coach, now lives in SF and has graciously taken me out as crew a couple times. Then Chantal introduced me to one particular group: I met the Lottos, and began sailing on their Express 27, almost upon arrival. From their boat, I met Steve and Laura, two crew members. Steve also owns an Express 27 and invited me out racing, at which point I met Rachel, Patrick and Tauna. Patrick is also crew for the Lottos.
I spent Labor Day weekend doing a long distance race and sailing around the bay with Patrick, Tauna, and Steve. It was one of the best Labor Day weekends in recent memory (minus the fabulous camping trip last year to the Cape). Patrick connected me with Scott, with whom I raced this past weekend down in Monterey, and Rachel connected me with a boat for J-24 Nationals. I don’t know about you, but I would much better conceptualize this with a diagram of some sort. The point is, I have made some wonderful friends in a short period of time thanks to a few friends from back home.
Swimming has also been great. I am back into the ugly habit of waking up at 5 a.m. and swimming from 6-7 a.m. My coach, Val, is really just a fabulous Eastern European teddy bear. He greets me every morning with a smile and, when asked how he is doing, says “Not bad for a (insert day of the week).” He might bark at me occasionally and tell me to kick or that I look horrible swimming breast stroke, but I can’t blame him for the latter. I may as well be doggy paddling. As far as the former, maybe I would kick if I got rid of the pull buoy.
We all go through things in our lives that leave us with scars. Whether physical or mental, these experiences leave us all the wiser the next time we encounter a similar situation. This is the only thing that really separates adult from child. Well, that and perhaps a few other things, but that’s a another story for another post. I went sailing the past two weekends out of St. Francis Yacht Club. If you grow up in Youngstown you make the type of connections with people that never extinct. Rather, you can find just about anyone from this small town in the world and you can always pick up where you left off. This was the case with my old sailing instructor from Jr. Sailing. Rolf moved out to San Francisco after going to college out west and we had not kept in touch over the years. However, thanks to the wonders of Facebook, we reconnected. He emailed me earlier this week to see if I wanted to crew on Friday. I very promptly replied an enthusiastic, “Yes, please!”
The previous weekend I sailed on an Express 27. I found the ride thanks to my friend, Chantal, who raced with them when she lived in SF. I was on foredeck, which means I was in the front of the boat and got to play with the pretty sail known as the spinnaker. However, it’s not all sugar and spice. You get beat up on these boats and often find yourself dressing in long sleeves and pants the following week. Well, you can’t wear pants in the pool, so you can only imagine the looks I received from my teammates. I can’t even begin to imagine what they thought of this new girl black and blue from top to bottom. One thing I did know was I would avoid bow if possible the next time around.
Standing at the front of the boat is a tad unstable
Sailing on the Express 27 very quickly reminded me of the pains of racing. I recalled the summer of racing on a J-22 with my brother. The black and blues didn’t go away until I moved to Boston. Luckily, sailors like to drink, and I often was able to manage my pain with a Molson Canadian at the day’s end.
I showed up Friday morning and found Rolf on his J105, seemingly the same person I knew back in Youngstown. We chatted a bit and then got down to the important logistics of any race day: positions on the boat. I unfortunately had only two answers when asked where I was where I was most comfortable: driving and bow (foredeck). Now, no one in their right mind is going to hand the helm over to a newbie to the boat. A half hour later I was on the bow figuring out the finer details of doing foredeck on this particular boat. I literally got my butt kicked and now have sore shoulders and copious bruises. I look like an overripe peach.
At the beginning of this post I explained that we are often smarter or more well informed as we grow up. If the lesson I should be learning is to stop sailing because of the hurt, then I have failed. I think what I have realized is that I really love sailing. I can stand some bumps -they heal and I’m happy to pay the price. I’m willing to walk onto the pool deck looking a little sordid and scrappy. I think it’s good for my reputation -”Who is this tough chick?” they might ask. Maybe I can tell them I’m a cage fighter, or when asked what happened I will simply and smugly reply, “You should see the other guy.”
It’s overcast today in San Francisco. I am thankful now that Boston had such crappy weather leading up to my departure because the weather here, although low 60s and cloudy, pales in comparison. I’ve been stalking the weather in Boston to find that it has been rather pleasant as of late. You deserve it after nearly having to build an ark to survive the rainfall in June.
I’m almost settled in to my new place and have been finding little activities to do here and there. I have been swimming at the YMCA in the Presidio since Monday. I showed up a little early to introduce myself to the coach, Oleg. I tried to explain my pace to him, but he just smiled and pointed at a lane. I jumped in and started my warm up to find I was swimming over the person in front. She let me go ahead, but I lapped her pretty quickly and we both became frustrated. Oleg noticed, but only after we were 20 minutes into the hour workout. Oleg is not the Roma or Jen type of coach. When he gives an order, you don’t question. We swam 6X200 descending and when I came in sooner than he expected he said, “That wasn’t your fifty percent effort. How do you descend on that?” I got pissed. I used my swimming rage ( some of you have experienced this before)to finish the set, and I killed it. We were then given a set of 6X50s descend. Deciding to be a bit more dramatic in my swimming, I went very slow for the first fifty and glided into the wall. This did not please Oleg:
” You do not finish like this! ” he said as he imitated my slow glide into the wall. “You finish like this!” Oleg said this has he spastically thrusted his arm straight overhead and jerked his body into a straight line.
“But you said fifty percent effort,” I answered back with a coy smile on my face. No sooner had I started the sentence did the alarms go off in my brain. Like Ralphy asking Santa for a Red Ryder Beebee Gun, I knew I was in for it.
I was ready to volunteer to slap myself across the face in lieu of Oleg, as I would be more gentle. I think we were both a little startled. He sort of smirked awkwardly, averted his eyes, and walked away. I assume he was doing some sort of deep breathing/repressing his anger at my smart ass remark.
Today went well as far as practice is concerned. Oleg tricked me into swimming 25X100 (that’s 100 laps). I’m going to try out a few other teams next week, but I guess Oleg and I will subsist for now…
Really -I promise I will not title another entry using alliteration. I’m making myself ill. If you have any suggestions, please share.
I got into San Francisco, or SF, Friday afternoon. Ryan, my new roommate, was just getting home when I rolled up. I had a beautiful drive through the Sierra Nevada Mountains, past Lake Tahoe, Sacramento, and over the Bay Bridge. As I was winding down the mountains, I could not help but picture the same roads covered in snow and ice. I was coasting in neutral at 75 mph from time to time down roads at at a 12% gradient. I don’t ever want t o drive those roads in the winter -and I’m from Buffalo!
Ryan and I quickly unloaded the car. We sat and chatted for a bit and I was introduced to my third roommate- a black lab/dachshund mix named Stout. She is a wiggly, sweet, and cuddly little dog. The perfect city dog at four years of age and housebroken. We then hopped on our bikes and rode around the neighborhood for a bit. I went to my room and decided that it was time to unpack only to realize I didn’t have anything to unpack my things into. My attention was redirected to the Internet. I began scouring Ikea, Target, and Craig’s List for furniture. One of my friends reminded me that Craig’s List was started in San Francisco with its office located a mere mile or two from my new digs. It was no accident that I found a fantastic dresser and bookcase within minutes of zoning in on CL. I was overtaken by a wave of exhaustion and video chatted with my sister for a bit while Stout sat in my lap. I was so tired from my incredible journey that I fell asleep at 9:00 and didn’t come to until 8:00 the next morning.
I was pumped to get around the city on my own and learn the ropes. My first mission was to drive to the Marina to pick up my $10 bookcase. While driving a mere two miles to their place, I took my stick shift car over some very steep roads. Signs were displayed warning trucks and other vehicles from driving and cars were ordered to park perpendicular on the streets because no emergency break on Earth would hold a car in place if parallel parked. I held my breath and sort of closed my eyes at a few stop signs as I braced myself to drive over the hills. Would my car stall? Would I roll back into the car behind? Fortunately I made it unscathed and bought the bookcase from Ashley and Blake -the quintessential Marina couple. My next task was to pick up the 9 dresser drawer. I called Jacky Mak and the following conversation took place:
” HELLO?!” exclaimed a man (I was expecting a woman)
“Uh, hello, is this Jacky?”
“YES! THIS IS JACKY MAK!”
“Hi, Jacky… I am…um… calling about the dresser. I was wondering if I could come by to check it out and perhaps pick it up?”
“YOU COME AT 2:00!(gives the address)” click.
I think most people would have been mildly deterred by this conversation. I, on the other hand, was completely captivated. Who was this mystery man, Jacky Mak? Now, part of what enticed me about Jacky and his dresser was it’s size and apparent quality based on the photos. The other, and almost more import factor, was that it was a house with a driveway in the Sunset District. Finding a parking spot, let alone a driveway, is amazing and can make or break a deal. I made my way and called Jacky as I parked on the street. He then screamed at me to back my car into the driveway and he opened the garage door. As Jacky was telling me about the finer points of the dresser, “See how it’s so clean? I was going to put it in my other son’s room, but it is too big…” I peered into a window off the garage to find a number of bronze plaques with Jacky’s name. Who was this mystery man and for what was he being recognized? Why was he selling his dresser to little old me? Hoping someday to sell it on eBay for a fetching price once his fame broke (“Jacky Mak’s Old Dresser! Used by His Son!”)I quickly agreed to take the dresser and we loaded it into my car.
I have found San Francisco to be a welcoming city. I am still caught off guard when a passerby says good morning. Initially, the jaded Bostonian in me wants to tell them to F-off or give them a sneering look, but I’m learning to be a little more friendly. I’m happy to make that change.
Enough with the alliteration! Yeesh!
(Note: This is mainly a swimming oriented post, so if you’re not into my rants about the pool you may want to pass.)
I swam this morning with the Sierra Nevada Masters Team and had an absolute blast. The pool is outdoors, and the air was a bit chilly- about 60 degrees. I found a lane with more surrogate boyfriends, and jumped in to find the pool was heated. This made it all the more welcoming to a scantily clad swimmer. I came up for air after the warm up to find the sun rising over the mountains. Not too shabby. All of the swimmers and the coach were extremely social and had no qualms about engaging me in their regular banter. One even commented that my shoulder/arm band simply must be a nicotine patch and concluded that it was why I was able to keep up without paddles during a pull set. We had a great swim that included kicking with fins and pulling. On my way home “Killer Queen” came on the radio as I drove back to the hotel for a decent breakfast in lieu of a Cliff Bar. Basically, this morning was fantastic and redeemed my feelings about the city.
I am departing Reno at 9 a.m. hopefully after heavy rush hour traffic. In the meantime I need to get packing, and may even attempt the feat of strength of the week from BUMS- the wall sit.
Traveling alone cross country allows for a lot of soul searching, reflecting, and is quite tiring. I swam at Denver University on Wednesday morning. They practice from 5 a.m.-6 a.m. everyday. When I saw the schedule, I emailed the coach thinking it was a typo. Nope, 5 a.m. bright and early! The “real” DU swim team practices at 6 a.m. and the coach has commandeered the lanes with no compromise. In spite of waking at 4:15 a.m. that day, I had a great practice (3,100 meters long course) and met some kind people. One swimmer, Chuck, gave me a DU Masters swim cap as a souvenir and told me to wear it in SF. I will, but not before my BUMS cap.
The drive to Salt Lake was far superior to the previous day’s. Wyoming had me wide eyed and mouth breathing as I drove through the mountains with fabulous rock formations. Maybe it was my fatigue, but I thought it absolutely beautiful.
I stayed just outside Salt Lake City last night in a little suburb called Clearfield. I stayed with my friend, Jill. We were in the same pledge class in our sorority at Potsdam. Needless to say, we have the type of bond where, upon seeing each for the first time in over six years, you can pick up right where you left off. I was only there for about 14 hours with 9 of them spent sleeping. Regardless, it was a great visit and I hope I can reciprocate if she ever ventures out to SF. Hopefully it won’t be another six years.
I did not swim today. Consequently, my back felt sore and I was less alert. While driving through the desert was beautiful, I couldn’t muster the mental fortitude and positive thinking to get myself through the drive with verve. In addition, I have found Reno rather uninviting for a single woman traveler. In my brief excursion outside to grab some dinner (no chicken a la mode this time) I encountered a few too many gentlemen suitors. One was a 76 year old at Denny’s named Bruce. After I allowed him to tell just one more story, he reached into his pocket and asked, “Have you ever met a dirty old man?” I cringed as I sat in the middle of the restaurant surrounded by waiters and patrons waiting for Bruce to do something indecent. Then, he pulled out a picture of his 28 year old girlfriend who was in New Mexico for the weekend. Grossed out and still reeling from the potential lewd and indecent exposure, I suddenly didn’t feel guilty about sending Bruce on his way.
Pool as seen from the bushes behind the facility. Photographer: Bruce
Tomorrow morning I am swimming at Idlewild Pool. It’s an outdoor, long course pool. Practice begins at 530 a.m. -a mere 15 minutes before official sunrise. Tomorrow is 4 hours into SF. I plan on parking my car, emptying its contents, and not getting back into it until necessary. Till tomorrow…
Those of you that know me from BUMS know the special attachment I have to Lane 7. I swam with three of the greatest guys- all happily married with beautiful families. We quickly bonded and got to know one another as we traded stories before jumping into the water at 6 a.m., conversations during rest intervals, and through emails. I endearingly refer to them as my Lane Boyfriends, and one of the hardest things about leaving BUMS was separating from them.
This morning, as reported yesterday, I swam with a Masters team in Omaha. It can be challenging finding the right lane, and there was a sub coaching. I looked around at the swimmers and was steered into lane 4. I hopped in and found myself swimming up and over the person in front. I asked someone in the next lane over what interval they were swimming at and was answered with a shrug of the shoulders and a smug, “I don’t know.” Feeling a little sad, I looked around and found myself surrounded by three guys in my lane that quickly introduced themselves and welcomed me in the lane. Bizarro lane boyfriends? Yes! While I swam at a significantly slower interval that usual, it was totally worth it. They were funny and positive and great lane mates. I stayed for the second practice to log 5,200 yards.
I drove from Omaha to Denver where I am staying with my friend, Leslie. It was a very tenuous drive, but moving at 85 mph helped it go by a little faster. I did not have cell phone service (it was “Out of the Network) until Colorado. Being alone for that amount of time is not good for mental health. Some of you had the misfortune of talking to me on the phone while I rambled like an idiot, but I cannot thank you enough. I was bumbling on the phone when I experienced one of the most amazing moments of the drive -seeing the Rockies for the first time. They literally pop up on the horizon in all their snow capped majesty.
Tomorrow morning I am going to Denver University for swim practice at 5 a.m. I have every intention of coming back to my most recent temporary residence and napping for an hour before heading to Salt Lake City. I must excuse myself now because “The Princess Bride” is on and it’s time to decompress. 
I don’t really know where to begin in recapping my weekend in Chicago. What I can tell you is that it is a beautiful city with so much to see and do. Kate was an amazing hostess and showed Janie and I every nook and cranny. A few of the highlights include Buckingham Fountain, The Violet Hour, Old St. Pat’s Block Party, and The Weiner Circle at 2 a.m. The block party was the bargain of the century. For a mere $35.00 you got five drink tickets- beer, wine, soda, or water, and a concert by Ben Folds Five. They are awesome live.
I woke up at 445 a.m. today to head to the pool at the University of Illinois, Chicago. I was surprised and intimidated to find a long course pool. For those of you that do not know the difference between a long course and short course pool, you can take a look by clicking on the links. My legs definitely burned a bit as we covered 4,000 meters. It was great to get out some energy before sitting in the car for seven hours.
My trip to Omaha took me over the Mississippi River, and to the “Largest Truck Stop in the World!” Iowa has a lot to offer: trucks, corn fields, and windmills. Woo woo. I am now officially in the land of the bland. It’s a little unnerving staying at a hotel by yourself. While I have done it before, I never get used to it. I spoke to the front desk and they put me at ease. Apparently, a security guard or two is on duty from 10:00 p.m. until the morning. Feeling more at home, I took myself to dinner. Perkins restaurant is truly a fine dining establishment that, unbeknownst to me, serves everything with chicken. For those of you that do not know, I hate chicken. I will not complain if you serve it to me, but I would rather have a piece of steak or tofu. Being in Omaha, I was certain I would have the option of steak or some other lovely piece of meat besides poultry. I was devastated. I ordered a meager salad, picked at it with one hand while swatting at flies with the other, and left. Later I found myself at the gas station/convenience store across the street buying peanut M&Ms- an awesome meal substitute.
Chicken breast a la mode
Tomorrow I am heading around the block from my hotel to swim with Omaha Masters Swim Team. I am optimistic that this team will closely resemble BUMS, but there really is no replacement. I can only hope to encounter some corn fed swimmers that will let me draft off of them.
I left Youngstown this morning at six fifteen and headed to a swim practice that I was certain would redeem the rest of the week. I turned on the radio to find Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” playing and thought it to be quite appropriate. I swam at Grand Island High School and ended up doing my own workout of around 3,000 yards. By eight fifteen I was back in the car with a wet head, Tim Horton’s in the cup holder, and en route to Chicago. Fortunately, the Bluetooth hurts my ear enough that I don’t have to worry about fulfilling my fear from the previous post.
I am looking forward to spending the weekend with my good friends, Janie and Kate, whom I met while doing a sailing program in the British Virgin Islands. This weekend promises to be fun as we are headed to Old St. Pat’s Block Party- the LARGEST block partay in the world and Ben Folds is playing!
