Gunning for 1,000

Date: Aug. 28
Mileage: 41.8
August mileage: 853.4
Temperature upon departure: 57
Rainfall: 0"

August has been full of beautiful days that make me wonder ... is this the last day of summer? The last day of sun before the rainy season really sets in? Last year, August and September brought blocks of wet weather that had to be measured in weeks. Those long stretches of gray brought a sameness to the days ... as though not even time could pass through the thick fog. Then one day I woke up to the sun blazing high in a blue expanse I couldn't even recognize, and there was snow on the ground. Winter came, and no one even warned me.

But today, today was the last day of summer. Unobstructed sunlight failed to even warm the temperature above 60, giving the air a crisp, autumn-like taste. I spun through the school zone clocking at least 5 over the speed limit, nodding at sullen-faced teenagers as they shuffled past with their eyes locked on text messages and lips wrapped around energy drinks. It's the first week of school, and already we can't remember what we did with our summer vacation. All around us, the groundcover was beginning to die ... yellow edges curled the end of giant Devil's Club leaves, blueberries shriveled and fireweed clamped shut.

Today's ride was flawless, and for that I was silently grateful. I was so blissed out that I nearly forgot my place in time and space ... rushing to make it to work in time, knowing I could rush some more, then surprising myself with a lot of time to spare. It made me wonder if I have one more summer goal in me yet. Maybe I could ride my first 1,000-mile month. I have 150 miles to go and three days to do it. It's easy to visualize on the last day of summer, with its warm moments surrendering to nearly effortless miles. Harder to do when looking at the three-day forecast, with its 90 percent chance of rain and 15 mph east winds. But it would be fun to try; and what a way to ring in the rainy season fall.

I miss that soggy feeling

This coming Saturday is the date for the 2007 Soggy Bottom 100. I spent most of the summer swinging wildly between definitely entering this race and definitely not entering this race. Somehow, I ended up at the latter extreme. It is probably a good thing. It's still travel money I don't need to spend; vacation time that could probably be better used elsewhere. That doesn't change the fact that I'm feeling remorse right now about blowing it off ... that last big gasp for my 2007 season, now nothing more than a whimper.

From an athletic perspective, it's hard for me to think of 2007 as anything more than a small disaster: a disappointing showing at my "A" race in mid-February, followed by months and months of chronic injury and immobility that dogged me throughout my mellow, competition-free summer. It's disappointing because I felt like I had a good thing going after 2006. I even entered a 24-hour solo race before I realized they were supposed to be one of the most difficult events out there, then came within just a few minutes of making it to the overall podium (I know what you're thinking. "Really? Her?" It's true, but Anchorage never gets a huge showing for these races.) Still, for the first time in my life, I felt like I had a shot at being competitive at an athletic pursuit. It was a great feeling after years of feigning illness during the presidential fitness tests and hiding my shame as I waited to be picked last for the softball team.

Then the 2007 season came and went, and suddenly I feel like I have not much to show for it. This remorse has stoked my competitive fire for 2008 even more ... to devote my free time from mid-October on to training and studying (yes, studying) for the Iditarod Invitational 350. I want to put in the smartest, strongest effort I have to give. Then, if I survive that, I'd like coordinate my summer vacation with a good endurance race - maybe the Kokopelli Trail Time Trial if such a thing is organized this year, or Trans Iowa V.4 (I do love the Midwest). Maybe I'll even find a 24-hour solo race where I can actually compete with other women (I'm trying to think beyond hamster races, but I really do like 24s. It seems everything about them plays to my strengths, and the sheer repetition snuffs out a lot of my weaknesses.)

What to do next year? Where to go? It's exciting to formulate plans. However, if I am to survive the ride to McGrath, I'm going to have to treat this February race like it's my one and only. If it ends up like the 2007 Susitna 100 did, it will be.

Signs of fall

Date: Aug. 26
Mileage: 34.5
August mileage: 811.6
Temperature upon departure: 52
Rainfall: .03"

The first sign of fall has settled on Juneau. I remember living in places where the first evidence of fall was a cloud of visible breath in the chilled morning air, a dusting of white powder on the mountain ridges or a single yellow aspen leaf in a sea of green. But in Juneau, I think the most prevalent sign of early fall is widespread salmon stink. Having reproduced and then died en masse, their rotting carcasses choke the rivers and line the shores, where they're haphazardly dragged over trails by bears and tossed into the road by seagulls. When I hear the crunch of brittle bones beneath my wheels and breathe in the suddenly omnipresent aroma of city dump, I know the first snow flurries are not far away.

I am now approaching day 10 since I returned from my bike trip, and I have yet to gain back the feeling in the tip of my left pinkie finger. I'm beginning to become a little worried. I've heard it takes a while for some people's digits to "wake up" after spending a long time propped on a bicycle, but this has never happened to me before ... even after a 24-hour race. It may be a result of the Ergon Grips, which may just not be suitable for my hand placement on long rides. It is hard to quantify the effect of equipment when riding 33-36 hours in a 48-hour period. Maybe losing one's sense of touch is inevitable in extreme conditions. Still, if it doesn't come back soon, I'm going to have to relearn how to type.

I am still feeling the effects of the ride, namely in my pinkie, and also in my right heel, which went into full-blown rebellion and locked up on day 2. I can't help but be concerned about even the most minor, nagging pains in my heel because I have no idea if it's one of those things that might become chronic. I went out hard today and felt great, until the heel pain hit, and then I overcompensated and soft-pedalled home. I miss the days when I could trust my body, but it does seem I have nothing to gain right now by pushing through even small amounts of pain.

The misadventures continue. At least I don't have to worry about getting lost in the woods. All those sun-dried salmon snacks could sustain me for days.