We biked to Whole Foods to have smoothies from the embedded Jamba Juice (one day we will have bananas in the house again) before heading for the gym. RDC went to the pool and I returned to the trail to do the bike portion of the race. Twelve miles in a bit less than an hour: I'm not fast. Back at the gym, I found RDC at the bike rack on his way out; I locked up and hopped on the treadmill for the 5K run (33') and then dove into the pool to swim 1000 meters. I swam smoothly and in fine form, five breaths per 25-meter length and five half-strokes (one armpull is a half-stroke) per breath, which is good for me, better this season than ever before.
Then I pedaled slowly home. It began to sprinkle, light and cool, and I took off my non-prescription sunglasses. I've been swimming in contacts recently, and that will be better for race day: I'll be able to see my way in and out of the water. Also the non-rx glasses are sturdier than the nine-year-old rx ones.
As ever, my shakiest element is the run. Aurora Reservoir should be between 63 and 73 degrees, and though my regular swim is in a 78-degree pool, 63-degree water won't paralyze me. I expect that everyone swims faster in open water since she doesn't need to slow for turns, but the number of swimmers, especially trying to make a tight turn around a buoy, might cancel that advantage. The bike route has "rolling hills" and I might be a little stronger with several ups and downs rather than the one of each on my usual stretch of trail.
Though I don't train in any discipline, I have been biking and swimming regularly all my life, since I mastered the doggy paddle and a two-wheeler at about age 5. Running, not so much. I don't run much and almost never on actual ground because of pain--damage I haven't investigated--in my right hip and both knees. The swim will energize me, I'll push myself on the bike, and then I hope not to cripple myself on the run after not touching actual ground in weeks.
It sprinkled on my way back from the gym, strengthening into showers in about the last half mile. I picked green beans and basil and spinach for supper in the rain, and by the time Blake and I got out of the shower, it was sunny again. We had burgers (left over from the party) with tomatoes (not our own) and spinach and a green been salad (blanched, with basil and almonds and olive oil) for dinner, then sat on the porch and read for a while. I am, to no one's surprise, not liking Naked Lunch and picked up Kate Remembered, the Scott Berg biography of Hepburn I was given a couple of years ago. It's being about Kate will only possibly overcome my distaste for nonhistorical biographies, for celebrity biographies. Well, I have books on hold at the 'brary, so it only has to last me until tomorrow.
While we swung on the porch, rain began in earnest. First we took Blake off his column and put him under the porch roof, then farther back, and finally in the house, because now the rain was lashing down in a gale, with thunder and lightning. Neither of us can remember a cool Fourth of July of the 11 we've spent here.
Maybe the anthem sing-along concert at Fiddler's Green in 1996 wasn't savagely hot, but I'm sure it wasn't cool. Red Rocks in 1997 and 1998 for Blues Traveler was hot hot hot, at least until sunset. In 1999, when we were in Vail and Grand Lake with the Beasts, it was so hot in Rocky Mountain National Park that the elk had retreated into the tundra. In 2000, we went to Grand Lake with Haitch to escape the city's heat; in 2001, RDC's aunt and uncle were here and we sweltered at the Cherry Creek Arts Festival. In 2002, wildfires rampaged; and if I don't specifically remember vicious heat in the previous three years I am quite sure it wasn't 50 and raining.
It's being that cool, and raining with thunder and lightning and strong winds, means nothing to our neighbors: they still have their air-conditioner on, the freaks.
RDC went out to check the gutters and Blake panicked. He doesn't like stormy weather and particularly dislikes lightning. But the gutters are fine and the basement is dry as toast and Gore-Tex is a miracle fabric. Blake and I watched the rain from inside, so he could be safe and warm-footed on my shoulder, and RDC made hot chocolate for the grown-ups. Now I am sitting in the leather recliner with my feet loosely crossed, and he (Blake, that is) is playing in the crotch cave, between my knees and under the laptop. It's still raining lightly, and we are not walking out behind the museum to watch the downtown fireworks. But we can hear them.
Aside from the nothing-to-read feeling, it's been a great day. I love rain.