For those of you who consider running (pavement-pounding) as the embodiment of evil, additional evidence. (I submit this in frustrated envy of those [Bill, Sarah, Rolf] who recently did the Haleakala experience.) I agreed with my beloved that she would not be a cycling widow during our 15 days on Maui in December. But I did bring my runners. Those warm Hawaiian breezes made me feel 21 again, and the early a.m. runs I did ranging from 10 to 20k (the 10% training rule is for wimps, right?) seemed to be doing no damage - at least not that I could feel snorkelling or bobbing in the afternoon surf. However, the last run with the stupidly macho far-side-of-the-bay goal made me realize that the turnaround point should really be the endpoint. Run, hobble, walk. Repeat.
Delayed action: it took a New Year's day TS ride on old blue with non-alpine gearing, and the Sayward Hill experience, to reveal just what bad judgment had wrought: I can now spell chondromalacia ("runner's knee"). My mistress Queen Carbone, sitting in the trainer downstairs, is in no danger of being exposed to the elements anytime soon. Rob Hasegawa and others have correctly prescribed "time, love and tenderness." Oh well - I can put on my shiny new TS kit and sit on the bike while watching race videos. Visiting the TS site to read about things like Saturday a.m. hammerfests is something I'll do sparingly, to preserve my dwindling sanity. See you in, mmm, March or April...
Mike (not Fairweather after the New Year's day freeze yo feet gig)