Vegas, baby!

I am currently sitting in the Las Vegas airport, being a good kid and not throwing my money away on the plethora of slot machines available while I wait for my delayed flight. (if you've seen The Three Amigos enough times, it makes you want to use the word "plethora" whenever it is applicable, as I believe it is here)

The biggest gamble of my trip - seeing how I am not a gambler - was bypassing the exit row on my Southwest flight in the hopes that if I sat in the back and pretended I was waiting for someone, nobody would sit next to me and I'd have an entire row to myself. That gamble paid off, and I can't tell you how much nicer it is to spend 6 hours on a plane when you can do it lying down, especially for someone who on most flights spends the entire time with their knees pressed up against the seat in front. And God help me if the person decides to recline. How is it that when you recline your own seat, it feels like it hardly goes back at all, and yet if the person in front of you does it, suddenly their seat back is two inches from your face? But anyway, we even managed to land early, so that was a nice start.

My luck ran out there, though. I caught a shuttle from the airport, not really knowing where I was going, but I had a piece of paper with my reservation at the Hilton Garden Inn and the address. I showed it to the shuttle driver, and she said that was where she was going. She was dropping off several of us, and at about the fourth stop she pulled up to the Hilton, and I got out with two other women. I showed her the paper again. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yeah, Hilton on the strip."

Okay, here's your tip, see you later.

Of course that was not the right Hilton. Mine was several miles down the road. I don't know how you can charge $30 in a cab to go like 5 or 6 miles, but at least I had finally made it to the correct hotel. You know, the one I had actually reserved a room at.

So I was prepared for a weekend of triathlon coaching education, but the first night really only had time to unpack, brush my teeth and go to bed. On Thursday morning, I had some workouts to get in. This included riding on a stationary recumbent bike in the "fitness center" in my hotel. Notice I use the word in quotation marks, because 3 treadmills, an eliptical machine, a recumbent bike and a weight machine to me does not equate a fitness center, but rather a room with a few pieces of fitness equipment in it.

I felt slightly ridiculous riding the stupid thing, but it did allow me to read a few magazines and I am really not too worried about my biking suffering terribly from riding in that very non-tri position for a few rides. Oh, and let me tell you, it is a welcome thing to get on an airplane and travel without a bike box. It is something I've done a grand total of two times in about the past six years, and it's awfully nice to bypass the baggage check line and the associated fees that go with it.

First up Thursday night was a USAT seminar on athlete weight loss. The main reason for my taking it was that it took care of several of my "continuing education credits," which are a requirement as part of the certification. Luckily, Bob Seebohar, the presenter, was a good speaker, otherwise I might not have made it through. As it was, a seminar that went from 5-9pm, or 8-midnight to my internal clock, had me just about ready to collapse by the end. It was interesting information, mostly because his thoughts on nutrition are completely opposing to almost everything my own coach has me do. But that's okay, if I've learned anything doing this, it's that nobody has all of the answers, and it's always interesting to get a different point of view. But I do think that in my next Ironman I'll be taking in more than 860 total calories.

Day two began with an early morning run. The clinic started at 8am, and I wanted to be sure to have plenty of time to get in an hour and fifteen minutes. I had at least had the foresight to check the weather and know enough to bring tights, but I hadn't realized I would probably also need gloves, a hat, and a second layer. It was in the upper 20's that morning, and I was a bit chilly in tights and a long-sleeved shirt with no insullation. In fact, after roughly 45 minutes I noticed that the sweat that had been dripping off the brim of my hat had actually formed an icicle that got bigger and bigger as I went along. Needless to say, my bare hands weren't working too well when I was finished. I had been running on random sidewalks simply until I ran out, then I'd turn back and find some other random street. Unfortunately, I never got far enough to see the interesting part of the infamous strip, but that would come later.

The clinic itself was pretty good. There were things I'd heard before, things I hadn't, and once again things that were completely contradictory to lots of other things I'd heard. But even if you read Triathlete magazine, you will often find that there are articles within the same issue that directly contradict each other, so you just kind of have to take in what you can.

On the first night, I was far too tired to go out and do anything interesting, so I was totally lame and boring and stayed in my room and watched TV. In case it wasn't already obvious, I'm not exactly a party person, so for me, going out and living it up in Vegas was never really something on my list of things to experience. Especially when I was out here by myself.

Day two began with a shorter run and not quite as cold weather. Then lots more triathlon stuff. They throw an amazing amount of information at you in a very short period of time, but luckily most of the presenters were at least engaging. It could've been pure torture if they hadn't been. We also seemed to have a pretty good group of people taking the clinic. I'd heard some stories about people in these clinics that made you fear for the lives of any athlete they might attempt to coach, but I didn't get that kind of feeling from anyone here, which was comforting.

I was just as tired Saturday night as I had been the night before, but I decided that as long as I was in Las Vegas, I might as well go check it out. Long story short: I met someone and we're married now. He was here for the rodeo and I'll be moving to his ranch in Colorado. Okay, okay, that's not really what happened. What really happened is that I took the hotel shuttle into town, walked up and down the streets with my hands in my pockets, trying to avoid the dozens of men accosting everyone with playing card-sized photos of naked women, and walking through various hotel casinos but not spending any money. I was so adventurous that I had dinner at a food court. And I was back on the hotel shuttle at 9:15, thoroughly ready for bed after such a wild evening. This must really make people want to hang out with me.

On Sunday morning I went for another run in the cold and dark. It must've been slightly warmer because the icicle on my hat was far less pronounced this time. Towards the end, I started hearing what sounded like thunder off in the distance, and I looked back to see fireworks going off back by Mandalay Bay. You don't often get fireworks on your Sunday morning long run, but this is Las Vegas. And it also happened to be the morning of the Las Vegas Rock 'n Roll marathon and half marathon, which was just starting. Too bad I didn't get a chance to jump in. Although I don't even want to know what I'd run for a half marathon right now.

That day the clinic was mercifully short and filled with much less information. We spent the morning in groups working on a training week for a fictional athlete we were presented with. My group was me, and three men twice my age. Before I knew it, the learning was over, and now I just have to do the test, send it in and I will be officially certified. Very exciting.

And now here I am, at the airport and wondering when/if my flight is going to take off. It's currently raining here, and this is one of those places where they don't really know how to handle it. Apparently at home on Thursday it was close to 70, but then on Friday night it snowed. I'm not sure what kind of weather to expect when I get there, but at least we can handle precipitation when it comes.

So there you have it, lamest trip to Vegas ever. But at least I got some good education out of it.