About Kim Goodell . . .
I am a triathlete and coach in Boulder, Colorado, and run my own website,
After seven lively, crowded, high-speed years in Chicago, I moved to Madison, Wisconsin,
to be closer to all the hills and open roads a cyclist could want.
After a few Wisconsin winters I moved back to California, but found I missed the hills
and country roads that lured me to the sport of triathlon in the first place, so two
years later relocated to Colorado. This is a triathlete's paradise!
My success in triathlons led me to begin coaching others, from beginners to serious
athletes. I've coached in Chicago, Madison, San Jose/Silicon Valley, and Boulder,
focusing primarily on women's training programs.
I've come a long way from those teen days when I used to lie to my PE teacher to get
out of running the mile, and whine to my parents about the trials and traumas of being
forced to ride my bike to school. Despite the fact that I only joined the swim team
because it was the one sport that didn't make me sweaty, I always did love swimming
(a little secret my high school coaches would probably be interested to know...)
After spending my college
years immersed in Theatre and Art projects, I returned to athletics in my early 20s, and
was actually a little surprised to discover a passion for swimming, biking and running.
These days, people always ask which sport I like the best.
Lucky me, I love all three.
Random post from earlier blog stories . . .
HITS Napa Half, 5 (Plus) Hours of Fun
It was a rough week leading into this race, culminating with the theft of my training/commuter bike less than two days before the race. Saturday morning the alarm went off way too early, but fortunately my dad is really good at being (still) awake at 3am, so we left the driving to him. With so many interferences throughout the week, I decided to call this one a "Training Day," and just focus on a smart, well-paced effort. This made for a more relaxing pre-race routine than usual, despite an early morning flat tire (the 5th one this week). I was looking forward to cruising easy on the bike, and then actually enjoying the half marathon. I love running strong and fast, so it's a shame that I make a habit of wearing myself out first with all that swimming and biking, invariably turning a run of any distance into an exhausting shuffle.
HITS is my kind of race! Efficient and professional, but low-key and not too crowded. They let us drive all the way up to transition for athlete drop off, and then packet pickup was a breeze, with short lines and no waiting.
The transition area was awesome; spacious, organized and more functional than a bunch of flimsy racks. I hope more races adopt this set-up (Minus the gravel underfoot -- ouch!)
I was worried about the lake temperature, quoted as being 54-59 degrees. Even though I enjoy cold water swimming more than most humans, I refer to anything below 58 degrees as "freeze-your-face-off cold," because it gives you brain-freeze from the outside. But it was a great swim -- at least the water was warmer than the air!
I took a pass on the wetsuit strippers, even though it's tons of fun, because I figured it was a good opportunity to practice my transition skills. Sharp as ever, at 1 minute 6 seconds, my T1 was the fastest of the day, with only five other athletes coming in under 2 minutes. While this is largely irrelevant in a 5+ hour race, it is still a matter of great pride for me. Transition Queen!!
... On the other hand, I found myself tragically under-dressed for the 3 hours of cycling that followed, so a jacket (or perhaps a snowsuit) might have been worth the extra 42 seconds. Or maybe I should've just left the wetsuit on?
The bike ride didn't go as smoothly as expected. Within the first 10 miles, I discovered that my bottle cage had come loose, and was flopping dangerously from side to side. If it came fully detached and jumped ship, I would be responsible for going back to retrieve it, or risk breaking the rule of Abandoning Gear on the Course. My first course of action was to reduce the weight of the water bottle, by emptying it. I quickly discovered that the pathetic, frozen claw that was once my hand had no strength with which to squeeze the water bottle. I pulled over and attempted to tighten the bolts on the cage, but the tiny allen wrench was no good in my lifeless, shaking fingers. (I got rid of the water bottle at the first aid station, and the cage rattled noisily for the remainder of the ride, but at least it stayed with me).
Posted by Kimberly 04/17/2015