Beaverdam 5280

Saturday was the 1st open water race of the year, the Beaverdam 5280. It is a small race of about 60 people, but very efficient and well organized.

The water temperature was 68, and since it was sanctioned by a triathlon organization, it went by triathlon rules - that meant it was wetsuit legal. I'm not really nuts about wetsuits and haven't raced in one before. But...they give you a huge buoyancy advantange, which translates to faster times (I swam the course in my speedo last year in a 24:17. This year my time in a wetsuit was 20:45. I did get a bit lost on the course last year and I am now swimming faster in general, but 3 and half minutes is a big difference). The wetsuit made the water a lot more comfortable too so I might be a convert - If you can't beat 'em, join 'em! A few people held onto their principles and stuck to their speedos, but the overwhelming majority had wetsuits on.


DAMA cleaned up with awards. Kevin came in 1st overall, and I finished about a minute behind him, 2nd overall and 1st female. Keith came in 3rd out of the men and Teresa, Dawn, and Alicia all placed in their age groups.



Kevin and I setting a good example for the rest of the pack. It is so important to refuel properly after a hard race.


The race was fun, but something serious and disturbing happened afterward. I got flashed! This does not need mentioning, but I am a very innocent, young lady. So you can imagine my horror as the following event unfolds:

As shadowy figure approaches me from the bushes...


She opens her trench coat to expose herself to me...


Curious about the human body, I sneak a peak...
My eyes!!! Yowza!


Of course, by "shadowy figure" I mean Derek's sister Alicia. And by "exposed herself," I mean that she unveiled her decently clad, but very hot, triathlete bod.

Editor's note: Derek did not swim the race this year, but if he had, big sis would have wooped him up good.

Farewell to the baby monster...

It is with great sadness that I had to say goodbye to my very favorite swimming buddy, Yogi. No offense to my other fantastic, equally lovable, albiet less slobbery swimming buddies (if any of you were to meet an untimely demise, I would probably write a nice blog about you, calling you my favorite swimming buddy as well). But Yogi was a great dog, with a big heart full of love and a big head full of nonsense. What he lacked in brains, he made up for with good looks and a dynamic personality. Yogi lived a short but very full life, full of walkies...




Long naps...



Car rides...

Costumes...
Piggy back rides...

And kisses...

Yogi loved to swim and he didn't mind the cold water. When I was training for the channel, Yogi would sometimes accompany me on my long swims. He wouldn't swim the whole distance, of course, but would jump in occasionally to splash around and give me kisses. He also became a fixture at open water races. At every race he attended, Yogi attracted more fans than anyone else there. Walking 100 yards could take as long as 20 minutes, with people stopping us constantly to pet him and talk about how nice and handsome he was.

Yogi was also quite the good luck charm. Of the open water races that Yogi attended, I won all but two. Of the races that he did not attend, I lost all but one. Of course, skeptics might say that Yogi came with me to local, less competitive races and stayed home for bigger races that I had to travel for. But I think that Yogi's presence gave me an invaluable morale boost. With a big, handsome monster on your side, how can you do anything less than your best?

At Christmas time last year, Yogi took the field trip of his life and came down to visit my parents in Miami. There, he spent several nights jumping into my parents' pool and then sneaking into their room to dry his wet, furry self in their bed. He pestered everybody, caused absolute chaos, and had a blast.

When we got home, Yogi wouldn't eat for a day or two and Jason and I thought he was just recovering from his awesome adventure. But when he started having trouble walking and standing up, we knew something was wrong.

Yogi had spinal meningitis, cause unknown. He was given lots of powerful, expensive meds but the vet was not sure he would make it. But Yogi proved to be stubborn and persistent like his mama. He started getting better. Neurological deficits left him clumsier, dopier than usual, but that didn't bother anybody. He was still his sweet, lovable self with just a little more nonsense than before. Yogi and I share a birthday, March 18th. Yogi turned 1 without incident and it seemed like he was out of the woods.

Then this week the meds stopped working. Yogi got sick and stopped eating again. He became too weak to stand up to go to the bathroom outside and started to go in his dog bed. This was not a good life for a 1 year old puppy. Yogi was having a relapse and there wasn't much more that could be done.

I didn't want to leave him at the end and held his big, giant head while he got put to sleep. The last thing Yogi did was give my mouth three tired kisses before he dozed off for the last time. Yogi is gone but I like to think that I now have a big, dopey guardian angel.

Yogi will be missed by many, many people. Next week will be my first open water race of the year, the Beaverdam 5280, and I know that many swimmers will be looking for him. Look behind you, and if you see a long trail of drool, you'll know he was there. I know that he wishes us all many happy swims with good snacks and slobbery kisses afterward. What more could we ask for?