on the move

With no particular reason to head south or budget to do so, I needed to find new digs in the area. Since I learned too late that my last marina was too shallow and too boisterous for me, I have repeatedly sworn not to sign another annual contract. I figured I would find transient slips, move every few months, and just see where things go. As usual, my life is in flux, and I’m just fine with that. What I have never been good at is being trapped, tied down, locked into anything.

My understanding was that my slip had been leased out as of March 1, so I was feeling under the gun to find a new slip and get moved. One key problem I faced was most of Back Creek was frozen. Every sunny or warmish day I would stand on the bow staring at the ice and praying for enough of it to melt to let me out.

I spoke with the dock manager at a sought-after marina on the Spa Creek side of Eastport hoping to find a slip for March and perhaps April. I dropped by a couple of days later to check things out… which slips might be available, the laundry and bathhouse facilities, and find out details about what would be included in the rate. To my surprise, I was offered an annual liveaboard slip, for which there is often a lengthy waiting list. I was caught off-guard by that choice, and had to give it some thought. I crunched the numbers, mulled it over a bit, and knew it was the right thing to do. The problem: the entire annual payment is due up front and I live hand-to-mouth even in the best of times. I managed to rustle up a loan for the slip, and then anxiously awaited the arrival of the lease in the mail. Once everything was signed and official, I celebrated (duh!) and then I studied the upcoming weather to find the likeliest date the creeks would be thawed so that I could move.

Four or five relatively warm days were coming, culminating this past Sunday. Friday I filled the water tank. The ice was looking softer and receding, but still impassable. I also urgently needed the pump out boat to be able to get to me because the tank was completely full. Thankfully they were able to make it around the remaining ice so I had the boat pumped out and flirted with the hottie pump out guy I’m still crushing on. (Saw him briefly at the pub on Friday night, but he otherwise remains elusive despite regular texting for several weeks. Sigh. What's a mermaid gotta do to catch this one?!) Saturday I also had a second ammeter installed (love it!), finally got the propane line routed off the aft rail (yay!), and got a lesson on changing the oil and filters on my Perkins 4-108 diesel engine (double yay!). So, after a highly productive Saturday, Sunday was moving day.

A liveaboard friend offered to help me move the boat over to the new marina. I know I could handle her by myself, but it never hurts to have another sets of hands to assist when coming into a new marina, where I don’t know the quirks as to wind, current, and depth. The ice had floated further out into the cove and we dragged some alongside as we slowly crept along. Once I was past the ice I tried to throttle up, but the shifter didn’t want to move up any further. The engine was only hitting 700 rpm. We kept puttering along slowly, but I was surprised and concerned about the throttle not working since I hadn’t had any problems with the engine the day prior as we changed the oil, oil filter, and Racor fuel filter.

My friend and I were brainstorming what the problem might be and I was studying the instrument panel, when I took a green day mark a couple feet to the wrong side. I promptly went from 8 feet of water to 4 and ran aground for my first time. I could have easily backed right off of the shoal… if I had any throttle. I hit the BoatUS app on my phone and it automatically sent my GPS coordinates to the tow service. A boat went by and my friend kept signaling to them that it wasn’t his fault, it was all me. Ha! Yep, it was my bad. It was a beautiful sunny day, I wasn’t in any particular rush, and we were just nudged into mud, so I didn’t see any reason to worry. Everyone runs aground; that’s just part of boating. The wind started kicking up and blew the bow off 90 degrees. At the same time a gentle wake came and lifted us just enough. I saw the depth sounder go from 3 feet to 5 to 7 and quickly put her in reverse. Even if I couldn’t throttle up, I wanted to at least try to back into the channel. And just like that I backed her up, did a 360, and headed out. I let the tow captain know I was no longer aground but opted to go ahead with a tow due to my lack of maneuverability from the impaired throttle. The wind on the Severn and on Spa Creek was much friskier than on Back Creek. There were also gobs of little sailboats out for the Sunday afternoon frostbite races. Because I’d be motoring, they would have right-of-way and would be zig-zagging all over right where I needed to go. But if I was under tow… well, they would all have to give way to me. Knowing your COLREGS comes in handy! Naturally, it was the same tow captain who towed me last September and then towed a friend’s boat when I was aboard helping him move it for a haul out. I’ll admit it’s a little embarrassing to be on a first-name basis with the local tow captain. C’est la vie.

I got tucked into the new slip. I had planned to dock stern-to but the neighboring liveaboard warned that the slip would get shallow at the far end and that gawkers in the spring and summer would be able to look right down into my boat if I didn’t come bow in. I hadn’t considered the latter issue, but the new marina can definitely have a fishbowl feel, so I’m glad I took his advice. Pup dog is having to adjust to jumping from the deck to the dock at the boarding gate amidships, rather than using her ramp, but she’s been a trooper and adapting with less fuss than I expected. The cats are peeved that I haven’t let them outside yet, but I’m scared they will get lost or hurt in this much more commercial marina with a large parking garage. (It doesn’t help that this morning my neighbor said there has been a dead cat floating around the marina since January and to let him know if I see it so he can fish it out. He said it’s black; I would’ve thought it was Max and freaked out. The whole thing makes me sad.)

So, how are the new digs? Well, let me just say I love bottomless hot water even more than bottomless mimosas! At the old spot there was 15 minutes of hot water, then it went completely cold. I have long hair and long legs, so I could never both shampoo my hair and shave my legs in the same shower at the old marina. And after a run in the frigid cold I would need 15 minutes of hot water just to be able to feel my fingers and toes again. So, I am loving having all the hot water I want, with great water pressure, and facilities that are cleaned daily—by someone other than me! There are two shower stalls, which are separate from the two bathroom stalls, as well as two sinks with shelves, electric outlets, and a courtesy hair dryer. So, yes, I’m feeling I made a serious upgrade.

I also have laundry at the new marina so now I can toss in a load whenever rather than having to drive to a laundromat and pay a lot more than the marina charges. I also have covered, card-key-access parking and generally get a spot right next to my slip. The dock management team are very nice and gave me a welcome bag with a t-shirt, floating key chains, wine key, baseball hat, bathhouse key, and my parking card. Another, and likely the biggest, benefit of the new marina: water under my keel so I can go sailing! I’m even closer to my local haunts, so that’s nice, too.

Oh, and did I mention that ELECTRICITY IS INCLUDED?! So, although I’m paying a mere $17 more a month at the new marina than I was before, I’m actually saving at least $100 a month because I don’t have to stress about whatever mysterious astronomical electrical bill will arrive every quarter, or randomly a month later. My electric had averaged about $85 per month all year until this winter. The bill for the last four months: $615! Since I was freezing my ass off on the boat and trying to run the heat as little as possible, I can only assume I am being charged for the ice eaters that benefited all the boats and the docks. Very, very glad I won’t have to worry about that anymore.

More later about the engine and such, since the mechanical matters deserve their own post. But really pleased to be moved to my new spot. Many thanks to everyone who helped me get her ready and be able to move into our new slip. I'm very hopeful we'll be happy there and that we have fair winds ahead.

love letters

In the process of moving out of my office I came across a lifetime of mementos. A postcard from Mexico caught my eye. I flipped it over to see who it was from. Chris. It didn't ring a bell. So I read the note:

"While you are standing at your till being harassed by Gary and his nephew, I am sitting out on the veranda eating shrimp, drinking beer, and watching the surf crash against the beach. While you are sitting in that dismal employee room chainsmoking, I am swimming through jade colored waters, amongst bright colored fish and swaying seaweed. But wait! I am coming back. I sent you this to show you I really do like you. I will become a doctor. I will give you foot massages. I will give you Valium. I will give you codeine. I will give you phenobarbital. Wait for me -- Chris"

That may well be the most romantic missive I've ever received. I believe the author was a busser at the Mallory Hotel, where I worked as a maitre d' during my college summers. I wonder if he became a doctor; it seems he was a talented writer.

Last Valentine's Day I received a small card, it was bright pink and had sparklies, which means some thought had gone into covering all the girly bases. I'd rebuffed the guy, so the note was particularly amusing: "Happy Valentine's Day. Whatever."

I miss being in love. That feeling of exhilaration. Having someone to cook and bake for. Sleeping next to someone who just "fits."

Hopefully, one of these days I will find a guy who "fits" and we will both have a sense of urgency about being together, a realization that time and connections are fleeting. Yet I don't want to be the center of anyone's universe; I can't handle the responsibility.

where there's smoke...

No time is a good one to be standing in a bathrobe holding a fire extinguisher. But aboard a fiberglass boat when it's 25 degrees out is especially not a good one.

Two weeks ago two liveaboard boats here in Eastport burned to the waterline. It simply gives one pause. And there's this sick irony to boat fires because a boat is surrounded by water. I don't know what exactly caused that fire, but electricity arcing at shore power connections seems to be a frequent cause of boat fires, so I wanted to do some preventive care aboard to ward off that problem. On Saturday I had planned to unplug the shore power cables, wipe down the blades, and then coat them with dielectric silicone compound. Various folks had recommended putting it on the connections to prevent corrosion and arcing that can lead to electrical fires. The package said to avoid skin contact. I wasn't sure how much I'm supposed to put on. I pulled out my copy of Nigel Calder's Mechanical and Electrical Manual to see if it mentioned applying the compound to the shore power connections. I couldn't find anything. I decided to wait until I had a little more information.

While contemplating the dangers of fire aboard, I noticed that the many fire extinguishers aboard are mounted and held in with straps. I pondered just how those straps fasten. I'd never actually removed any of the extinguishers, but if there were either a fire or an intruder (an ABC extinguisher is a handy defensive weapon) I was concerned about how difficult it would be to remove the canister from the strap when time was of the essence. 

Sunday morning I was supposed to go ice skating with friends. I do love to skate and was looking forward to it, but was not really feeling up to being surrounded by kids. I went back and forth about it but just had this feeling I needed to beg off and stick around the boat. As I was messaging back and forth with friends, I heard a strange sound, sort of a slow, deep "whomp." It seemed to come from the starboard aft-most corner of the nav desk and breaker panel. But I didn't hear anything else and started to go back to the message I was writing. Then I noticed the music was off. Hmm. Maybe I had turned it off for some reason. I turned it back on and sat down. The music started coming and going. The iPod dock runs on 110V, i.e., shore power, but also has a 10-hour battery back-up, so if the A/C power is off, it just switches over. I looked at the panel and it showed 120 volts, but the power strip light was flashing on and off. Ah, maybe something on the shelf is hitting the power strip button. Nope. Then I saw the adjacent outlet was dead. No breakers on the panel were tripped. Strange.

Nothing looked amiss. But this faint smell of sulfur, like when you just light a match, caught my nose. Something just didn't feel right. I turned off the main A/C breakers on the boat. And in that moment, I somehow instinctively popped that strap on the fire extinguisher and headed topsides. I opened the lazarette that contains the back of the electrical panel and smoke came billowing out. I didn't see flames but the smoke kept coming and the smell...like burning matches and plastic and something else I just can't describe...it was awful and I knew something was very wrong. I flipped the breakers off at the shore power pedestal and went back to the cockpit, standing over the open lazarette. I didn't want to just randomly spray the fire extinguisher in there. The smoke seemed to be dissipating, but with all the PFDs and sails in the lazarette, what if something was smoldering out of sight? 

I wasn't quite sure who to call. Someone like TowBoatUS will claim a percentage of the boat's value for salvage if you're sinking or on fire. The fire department would likely fill the boat with foam that would destroy wiring and systems. But something was seriously wrong. I called a friend who's a very experienced boater. He answered very conversationally, "Hey, how are you?" I quickly and bluntly said "I'm kind of freaking out right now. I'm standing here in a bathrobe with a fire extinguisher and there's smoke coming out of the lazarette near the electrical panel. I'm not sure who to call." He reminded me he's in Delaware. "Yes, yes, I know you can't come help me, but I figured you would know who I should call." He suggested I go disconnect the shore power cables from the boat and pedestal as well and turn off the batteries. 

Both shore power cables show damage from arcing

When I unplugged the cables from the shore power inlets on the boat one inlet had a blade that was black and scorched. The cables were clearly damaged from arcing. The smoke seemed to have stopped. I didn't see any obvious damage on the electrical panel, which has a clear Plexiglass cover. But all that smoke came from somewhere. Now all power on the boat was off, no A/C from shore power and no D/C from the batteries. So, no heat, no lights, no propane stove because it requires an electric solenoid for safety. The water around the boat is iced over. We were at least going to need a way to heat the boat.

My friend suggested I call a marine mechanic he knows to see if he could come take a look, but he wasn't in town. That guy gave me the name of another mutual friend of theirs, Rob Simkin. I explained to Rob that while whatever had burned appeared under control, I couldn't wait to address the issue because I live on the boat with pets and we need to get the boat safely heated. Rob really came through; here I was a perfect stranger, kind of freaking out, but he gave up his Sunday afternoon and was at my boat in less than 90 minutes.

The shore power inlet that was on fire

Rob removed the shore power inlet that looked damaged. The guts were scorched and melted. I complained about how awful that burning smell is and he explained that there is a lot of smoke under the coaming, so the smell probably won't go away soon. The other inlet looked OK, but since it was older and rather than take any chances, I agreed we should replace them both. While I went to West Marine (twice) and Fawcett's to find the parts, Rob went over the electrical panel to check for damage, tightened up loose wires, and replaced some old connectors. He also began tracing the wires for the battery charger since I have long wanted to move it over to the "main" shore power line in case I am in a marina with only single 30 amp service; then I can forgo the water heater and HVAC that run on the secondary line and have all my "core" house systems on the main line.

The plan at West Marine was to pick up two new inlet assemblies and one or two new shore power cables. Each of those is about a hundred bucks; yep, ouch. I found that instead of having to buy the entire assembly, including the metal casing and closure, I could buy just the "guts" of the inlet. The price difference is substantial: $90 versus $30. The problem was that the guts-only package didn't include the white end cap. I got them anyway, and then headed to Fawcett's to see if they had the end caps. They didn't, but they had sets of the guts with a cap included. I bought two of those, and returned the others at West Marine. I also picked up a new "Eel" shore power cable at West Marine. For the second cable I'm using a short cable I already had, but I will replace it shortly with a longer one because if the tide falls too much and it "tugs" at the connections I may be back to standing there with a fire extinguisher.

Note half the guts are just gone or melted

As it turned out, the inlets I had bought at West Marine were Marinco and the ones from Fawcett's were Hubbell. It'd be way too easy if these fittings were standardized... so of course the Hubbell ones and the Marinco ones do not have their screw holes in quite the same spots. They're off just a smidge enough that they can't play nice together. And it turns out that one of my inlets was Hubbel and one was Marinco. Sigh. And so, I headed back to West Marine (trip three). I tried fitting the white backing cap from the old assembly onto the new inlet guts, but the cap was too melted on one side, so I sucked it up and bought the $90 complete inlet assembly for the Marinco inlet.

Naturally, for one of the inlets the wire was a few inches short after cutting off old connections. So, Rob headed to West Marine for that trip since he knew exactly what wire was needed. The entire process (replacing the inlets and moving the battery charger over to the main line) took a little over four hours. The last hour we were there in the cockpit as sleet/hail then turned to fluffy snow. Rob patiently explained to me what he was doing and why, pointed out key aspects of the electrical panel for me, and explained certain things prior owners had done that I'll likely want to change as I upgrade the system. I probably need to make a sketch and then jot notes about what everything is.

By the time everything was put back together and I could turn on systems, and heat, again, it had fallen to 40 degrees inside the boat. The pets were about ready to mutiny. I gave them all kibble, and having only had a string cheese and a yogurt all day myself, I headed down to the pub. My dieting/running has been going very well. I'm down a reasonable and safe seven pounds in six weeks, and down 2-3 inches everywhere that matters. But I decided that on days that you have a boat fire you get to eat and drink whatever you want without guilt. The burger and fries were exactly what I needed, but the nachos a couple hours later and copious amounts of beer... yeah, not so much. I took the melted inlet with me in a ziploc bag so I could play show-and-tell with the other liveaboards at the pub. After that near miss, and knowing I dodged a scary bullet, it was good to be able to decompress and commiserate with liveaboard friends. It's really nice to know that if I'm in a jam I have friends I can call for help.

I definitely feel that something was telling me that the shore power needed attention although there weren't any outward signs that it had a problem. It's eery that I had been concerned with arcing and the fire extinguishers just the day before. It's eery that I had this gut feeling I needed to stick around the boat that morning. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't have a boat, or two loving cats, or a tail-wagging pup dog right now. When I'm tucking myself in the v-berth for bed, telling the pets goodnight and that I love them, I put my hand against the hull and tell the boat we love her, too. I know it's not good to become too attached to a particular boat and that it's not a child, a lover, or a pet, it's an object. But at the same time, I do love her; she is our home and in many ways my salvation. We rescued her, and she rescued us. So it may sound like so much mystical jibber-jabber, but I think she was telling me something was wrong and it saved her life and ours yesterday.

If you're an Annapolis-area boater and need electrical or yacht management help, check out Simkins Yacht Management. Rob is a USCG licensed captain and an ABYC master technician. Good at what he does and "good people." A big thanks to Rob, to Fred and Steve for recommending him, to fellow liveaboard Jay "Thumper" at West Marine, and to the liveaboard ladies at Fawcett's.

down the lazarette we go

I'm rather independent and like to do things myself. However, we don't just come into the world knowing how to do everything. I didn't happen to grow up learning to fix cars or build things. Thus, I often find myself not knowing how to do some simple repair and maintenance tasks that guys just take for granted. I wonder how they would feel if I talked to them like helpless little girls because they don't know their way around a kitchen. Anyway... for several months I have been begging people to come show me how to water the battery on the boat. At this point the water level was probably so low that permanent damage has been done. But I'm facing the reality that even when I have cash in hand to pay people to help me with my boat, the only person I can rely on to get anything done aboard is me. 

I did some research online, put on my goofy headlamp, and started pulling everything out of the port lazarette. The single biggest problem with the design of my boat is the terrible engine room access. To get to the engine, batteries, and water pump, one has to climb down one of the cockpit storage lockers, which means removing everything stored in them first. It's very difficult to reach things toward the bottom of the locker but there were various items I didn't want to step on. I was laying in the cockpit hanging myself down as far as possible without crashing in, and pulled as much out as possible. I tucked a screwdriver and wrench in my pocket just in case and set distilled water and a small measuring cup above the lazarette. 

Climbing in and out of the lockers is very difficult. The opening is long but narrow, so my hips won't fit going the direction I want. The locker is very deep, so my feet won't reach the bottom if I'm sitting on the edge of the opening trying to hop down. The sides of the locker are very slippery with condensation. Once I was in and organizing, I knew it would be much easier to have another set of hands to hand me things so I wouldn't have to keep trying to climb in and out. I texted three different guys asking for some quick help, but it was a newly-liveaboard gal on the other side of Eastport who came through. Everything about sailboats is new to her, but I assured her I just needed someone to be able to hand me things and rescue me if I got stuck in the lazarette. As I was pulling stuff out of the lockers and trying to reorganize and store items I found my sea anchor. I don't plan on seeking out the weather that would require them, but I am glad a prior owner invested in a storm sail and sea anchor.

the sea anchor

I got things cleared out and started taking a look at the battery. For some reason the water pump is on top of the batteries. That doesn't seem like a good place for it, but there was very little slack in the hoses to move it around. As I tried to prop it up more against the wall, all of a sudden the pump started running. I must have jiggled a hose clamp loose. I started yelling at my friend to run down to the breaker panel and switch the pump off. I was worried the hose would come loose and water would be spraying everywhere as I sat there next to the batteries and battery charger. Of course there are probably 40 or more switches on the panel so I'm yelling to her that it's the far right row, third from the bottom. Once it was off, I tightened up the clamps on each hose. I still need to investigate the leak between the pump and the water heater, but getting to that spot in the engine room will be a major contortionist act for another day. Since the water in the line to the pump has frozen a few times this winter--not good, I know--I relocated one of the 60 watt work lights from the engine block over to the pump, where it was last winter. That should make a big difference when the next cold snap hits, probably next week.

On to the battery. I suspected that the little black and white knobs (shown in the photo at top) were where I needed to pour the water, but I wasn't certain. I also noticed writing on them. "Keep" and then something I couldn't read. I was worried it would say "closed" or "shut." I took a close-up photo since there was no way to get my head in close enough and saw it said "keep tight." I messaged a photo of the knobs to a friend asking if these were what I needed to remove and how much water to add. Although he's sailed off to South Florida, I was lucky he was online to help me troubleshoot; thanks, Phil! I slowly poured distilled water into four of the six little ports; two were just too far for me to reach without better lighting and a turkey baster. Even using a mirror it was too difficult to see the water level, but I wanted to be careful not to overfill the cells and have electrolyte leak out. Even if they needed a little more water, they are certainly better off than they were and I'll just have to make it a quarterly chore to climb down and water the battery.

stuck in the lazarette under a heavy, moldy sailbag; yuck

Once the battery task was done, it was on to the starboard locker. It was full of loose PFDs, random stuff, and two big, heavy sail bags. Both sails are just old mainsails. I'm probably due for some new sails, but since that's likely going to run about $5,000 I don't see it happening any time soon. The old back-ups, however, will likely be turned into harbor shades or other sewing projects. But now for, I needed to get them out of the way of the engine room access. There's no getting around filling these lockers to the brim; I absolutely need the storage space. I sure wish the design had made them internal quarter berths, but I've got to work with what I've got. Therefore, I'm trying to at least consolidate loose items into bags and bins so that I only have to pull 5 big things out of the locker, instead of 20 little things, every time I need to get to the engine room. It sucks having to store sails in these lockers, where they are exposed to condensation and may get moldy, but there simply isn't any space inside to store them... I've still got a car full of stuff and a few items in storage that have to find a place aboard... it's a process, not an easy one, but worth it in the end. Despite all the challenges, I really couldn't imagine not living aboard.

feast or famine

I went six weeks without a french fry. For those who know me, it's practically inconceivable. When I finally had some, they were alright, but I didn't have a lot and they just didn't blow my mind. Every now and again I like to do a 30-day no french fry "fast" just so I know I'm not a slave to them.

I'm five weeks into my diet regimen. I missed one week of running, but got right back on track. I'm adding two miles every other week until I reach a base of 30 miles per week. This next week will be 24 miles (6, 6, and 12). I am down 6 pounds so far out of a total goal of 20-25. Nine pounds from now I'll look damn good; in 14 I'll be pretty hot; and in 19 I'll be smoking. With a conservative one-pound-per-week goal, I should reach my target around my birthday.

But we all know size matters! The more I run, the more muscular I get. Thus, the scale may not move in the direction I want but my size may be shrinking. That's just fine by me. I'm down two inches or more in bust, waist, and hips... with two or three to go. Weight, like age, is nothing but a number! If I look and feel great, that is all that matters to me.

Like most women, I had no success with the Atkins diet. Women need to consume a larger volume of food to feel sated than Atkins' program allows--primarily because it treats all carbs the same, (or did so back when I tried it), although the impact of spinach and rice are very different. The South Beach Diet recognizes that difference and doesn't limit non-starch vegetable consumption the way Atkins did. When I first followed the South Beach Diet I lost 36 pounds in 3 months with not one iota of exercise. My clothes were falling off of me and people were encouraging me to eat a brownie! But let me tell you, when you start adding back in the very slightest amount of starches--some brown rice here and there, a nibble of bread--you gain back everything you lost plus ten pounds! It is a magic diet once, and once only. If you ever stray from that initial success and strict lifestyle, the magic will never happen again. As a runner, I have to have some starchy carbs to fuel those long runs, and while very low-carb diets are easy to follow at home, they make eating out and attending parties very depressing. Although I can't have them be my four food groups anymore unless I'm logging a lot of miles, I am totally unwilling to live a life without pizza, beer, french fries, and potato chips. (And she knows football... yet, this girl is single... go figure!)

As I've mentioned, I'm counting all my calories and exercise using My Fitness Pal. Having taken a university personal nutrition course and plenty of courses in the natural sciences, I absolutely believe in the science of "a calorie is a calorie." Energy is energy. The one key common factor among people who have kept off 10 pounds or more long term is counting calories and keeping a food journal. But I also believe that different foods will make you feel differently, and foods that leave you hungry or tired will lead you to consume too many calories. I noticed that My Fitness Pal wants my caloric intake to be 50% carbs. I perused some diet plans that hold that some people need primarily carb-based diets and others need primarily protetin-based diets. Although I am very skeptical of diet plans and especially anything that demonizes particular foods, (currently anything with soy or gluten are on the hit list), I was interested in the questions presented about cravings, meal preferences, and how one feels after eating different foods. When I reflected on those things, I changed my ratios around to target 40% protein, 30% fat, and 30% carbs. Looking at the days I feel good and energized, that is the approximate breakdown of my meals.

I remember runners always preaching a need for a bagel or toast at breakfast before a run, maybe with some peanut butter (PB on a bagel, serious yuck!). When I do that I get seriously low blood-sugar dizzy in short order. A carby breakfast also leads me to overeat all day. My usual breakfast and pre-run ritual is string cheese and a Greek yogurt... yogurt that is high in protein, not some carb-sugar explosion like Yoplait. The dairy does not upset my tummy on a run at all. Too many new runners just blindly take advice from veterans when all that advice must be tweaked for one's own body. There is no one-size-fits-all diet in general, and definitely not when doing something intense like distance running.

The other food reaction I considered that made me elect to up my protein and lower my carbs a bit is how I feel after a burger and fries versus a chicken caesar salad. I love a good burger and fries, but when I give it some real reflection, I am often in a food coma and crashing for a nap afterwards. When I have a grilled chicken caesar I feel fuller longer and don't crash. I love my mac and cheese from scratch, but one serving leaves me famished...unless I top it with half a grilled chicken breast. These things tell me my body just needs more protein to stay full and alert. I'm going to try to keep observing how I feel an hour and three hours after different meals and keep tweaking things so that I can enjoy food as much as possible rather than feeling like it is the enemy.

So, what does all this nutrition, diet, running nonsense have to do with living aboard and learning to sail? Well, when come July I'm smoking hot out sailing in a bikini hopefully it will all make sense.