Tracey TRIs

Finding the Flow

2012-01-18T12:10:00.001-05:00

When I was in college, I learned about FLOW by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. I don't remember many other specifics from college, but dear Mihaly has stuck with me, most certainly because of his name. Though FLOW also stuck with me for another reason. The concept was intriguing and I wanted to feel it.

The basic premise of FLOW is there is a sweet spot where the challenge of the task at hand perfectly aligns with your ability to accomplish the task. You get into the FLOW and suddenly the rest of the world disappears and time stands still.

In preparation for Ironman Arizona, Sally and I did a quarry swim. It was an opportunity to swim all 2.4 miles uninterrupted in a somewhat controlled environment. At one point during the swim I went into, what I can only look back now and realize, is the FLOW state. I was pulling the water effortlessly, gliding, swimming, and not wholly conscience of what I was doing. My body just did what I needed it to do without me telling it and my brain turned off. I was snapped out of it when I saw Sally alongside me. It was a perfect union of the task with my ability to do it.

"You know that what you need to do is possible to do, even though difficult, and sense of time disappears, you forget about yourself, you feel part of something larger."

--Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Rereading my Ironman Arizona race report and thinking back to those last few miles of the run, and I think I was in FLOW again. I didn't look around me, though I was aware of people there. I set my mind to tell my body to move to the finish line and it just went.

The beauty of FLOW is that it can be experienced by anyone at any skill level. You don't have to be a fast athlete or even and athlete at all. You just have to find the perfect union of skill and challenge. Too much challenge and not enough skill equals anxiety. Too much skill and not enough challenge means boredom.

http://www.pursuit-of-happiness.org/history-of-happiness/mihaly-csikszentmihalyi/

Why am I telling you all of this? Because FLOW, or the search for it, is addictive. I've obviously thought about it for the past twenty years. I signed up for the lottery for the Chesapeake Bay Swim, 4.4 miles from Annapolis to Kent Island. People ask why. Aside from the usual because-I-can, deep down, I want to find that FLOW again. I want to feel that unwavering concentration where my skills exactly match the task and I turn my brain off and just go.

Think back to your most perfect race. The time where everything went so smoothly you finished and wished you could do it all again. Now tell me that somewhere deep down, besides the improving times, better form, podium finish, you sign up for races wishing for a perfect race again--no matter the time results.

More info on FLOW: http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/199707/finding-flow

If you want to hear Mihaly talk about FLOW personally, check out his TED video. He talks about athletes at 12:00 ish.

Sweet New Ride

2012-01-01T14:15:00.000-05:00

Moving to Hawaii is a lifestyle change. Warm weather year round, friendly people, close and easy access to most everything we need. The logical next step is...a sweet new ride!

Some details you may not find on other bikes you're used to seeing in the triathlon world:

A kickstand:

Handy rack for attaching a cargo box:

Awesome white wall tires and mud blocking front and rear fenders:

What you can't see is that it's as heavy as a tank. Seriously, probably close to 30 pounds.

Mike got one too, so we are taking them out for a spin today. First to Starbucks for a little wireless access, then to the beach for an open water swim (us, not the bikes), lunch at the local market, then back home. A very sweet way to kick off the new year indeed.

Riding in Paradise

2011-12-29T16:14:00.001-05:00

It has taken a while to get the motivation and make the time to go out and ride again. After the beautiful weather in Arizona, the spectacular race recovery week in Cozumel, and the pending vacation and move to Hawaii, the thought of putting on all my winter riding gear again was, well, unbearable. I've successfully vacationed my way out of winter.

But alas, the bike was calling, rather, my legs were screaming at me to get moving again. My knees are tightening up again, my calves are shriveling, and my quads are itchy. I've felt this feeling before and it never occurred to me that the cure was moving. Duh. My body was telling me to use it, move it, keep the momentum going.

So this morning, I did just that. I'm in Hawaii for New Years and in anticipation of my move here, I brought my road bike with me. After reassembly, a thorough cleaning, and some minor maintenance, I was off.

I left our condo complex with a general idea to stay along the beach and ride for about an hour. Riding here is a tad different than Virginia. Everyone is used to bikers on the road, so there's no crazies in bubba trucks trying to plow you into the side of the road. The smell of flowers and the beach air is overwhelming.

I'm very much looking forward to more rides here. Screw winter.

PS The President's house is just down the street from us. I rode right by! Think I can knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar?

Post Ironman Restlessness

2011-12-12T16:51:00.000-05:00

I'm not really sure that I have the post ironman blues, I think it's more like a restlessness. I've spent the last five years training almost daily for triathlon and for the last year all my free time, physically and mentally, was dedicated to getting me to the finish line at Ironman.

I've never been one to set goals. I set out to be happy and have based my life decisions on that. There was no finish line, no time limit. No real way to measure if I was effective or not. No long term planning, and most importantly, no failure. If I was unhappy, I just made a different decision and got happy. Easy peasy.

I'm trying to think back, and haven't come up with anything that nears Ironman from a goal setting perspective. It's so very clear the work that needs to be done and success or failure hinges on 17:00:00. Period. I don't know of one person who attempts their first Ironman and doesn't say all they want to do is finish. There may be more goals, better times, podium desires, improvement of effort, but the first desire is always to finish. There is some satisfaction in knowing how black and white that is.

Here I am, a non-goal setter, just coming down from a goal-intensive year looking for something else to do. Turns out I kind of like goals. Who knew?! I know my knees can't handle much more, so running is out, which makes triathlon a fading sport for me. I used to play softball, but that was more social. Tennis was fun, but darn knees are in the way again. Everything seems just a bit anti climactic.

Some ideas I've been tossing around:

Participate in the AIDS Ride California biking from San Francisco to LA
Check out long distance swimming in Hawaii www.hawaiiswim.org/hawaiianChannel/rules.html
Take up outrigger canoeing in Hawaii
Paddle the length of the Mississippi

Any suggestion out there on something big for me to tackle? And it doesn't have to be athletic in nature. I'm feeling the need to do something beyond myself. Something that will help others, something lasting and worthwhile.

Ironman Arizona Race Report

2011-12-05T20:50:00.001-05:00

RACE MORNING
I woke up at 4:45am to have breakfast (oatmeal with milk andraisins, banana, gatorade) and left the house at 5:15. The car ride waspretty calm for me. I was quiet and notreally thinking of much of anything. Priscilla and Sally in the back seat were hyper as can be. Mike dropped us off as close as we could getthen parked the car. I dropped off special needs bags and pumped tires onmy bike. Sally came and found me as I was getting body marked and wehugged. We found the rest of the IMAZ group,then the cheer squad and stood around waiting for the wetsuit dance. Taking group photos I felt calm and quiet. I never once though I was about to do an ironman. The morning feltlike the start of any other race. Maybe that was my secret. Notever thinking about doing all 140.6 miles. More cheerleaders showed up intears, more pictures and we start moving through the cattle corral.

SWIM
Sally and I approached the swim entrance and I was about tosit down and slide in when she counted to three and said jump, so I did. ThereI go, not thinking again. The water didn'tfeel nearly as cold as on Saturday. We slowly moved toward the start lineabout 200 yards ahead. I kept in mind that there were still a lot ofpeople getting in the water and if we moved too far forward, we would get stuckin the washing machine. As we looked up to one of the bridges, the cheersquad with their green wigs and wooden dowels with green pom poms on the end wereeasy to spot. We yelled up at them. As they were franticallywaving, I saw Coach Alexis pop over the top. Then Coach Ryan looked overat us. Finally Coach Ed's face was staring down at us too. Sallyand I were in disbelief. We had no idea they were coming and that was thebest race present ever. We were both laughing and crying. It was asurreal moment. We did our best to hug in the water with Johanna. I start thinking: Man,I’ve got to stop crying. Salt tears inmy goggles will hurt later. Turn aroundso they can’t see you. Wow, this isfantastic. How many emotions are goingthrough me right now? Happy? Nervous?Cold? Scared? Excited? Yes, yes, yes.

The cannon fired, and we were off. This may have beenone of the most calm swims I've ever had. I got bumped a few times, butnothing like the washing machine people have described. About midwaydown, I looked over and Sally is swimming right next to me. We stopped,stared at each other for a second, high fived, then kept on swimming. Itwas a single loop swim to the next bridge. I severely underestimated how far past the bridge I had to go before theturnaround. I debated on looking at mywatch or hitting the lap button but decided that I couldn't do much about itthen, so no need to stress. Finally the bridge, wow. Ok, just keep swimming.

As soon as I made the turn, I started to get cold. Enough that I wished I was wearing something warmer. Geez, thanks Es for making me think about mybare arms. I tried to focus on mystroke and keep my calves from cramping. Keep focusing on your swim. Don’t think about the bike right now. Stroke. Remember what Steve told you. Don’t cross the centerline. Keepyour elbows up. Keep your head tilteddown to breathe. I kept going all theway back to the dock, and felt fine. Icrawled out of the water and was going to skip the wetsuit strippers, butsuddenly they were in front of me, taking off my clothes. I sat down andthey pulled off the wetsuit. They stood there for a second waiting for meto stand up, but I made them pull me back up since I was kind of tired.

T1
I grabbed my transition bag and headed for the change tent. It was a nightmare inside. Thisis disgusting. One lady was standingin the doorway literally brushing her hair. Fruit loop. Heaters wererunning, but with all the wet bodies, it was more like a steam room. Ilooped around once and found a seat. I looked up and saw Sally come in tochange. We screamed something at each other, though now, I'm not surewhat it was. A volunteer helped me get changed and put on my arm warmers. I put a bunch of stuff back in my bag and just now am realizing that Ijust left it there. It's what I was supposed to do, but wow, I really spacedout there. Running through all the bike racks, a volunteer grabbed mybike and I was off.

BIKE
Three loops of 37ish miles with lots of wind. Thefirst 8 or so miles were ok and focusing on my heart rate. I knew if I blew it then, I would be toastfor the rest of the day. Zone two, zone two, zone two. Remember the 120 where you blew it going toohard. You have to stay clam and in zone two right now. As I made it up Beeline toward theturnaround, the incline really began. It’s a little more than a false flat and picks up even more at the Arizona canal and thenagain at the turn. It didn't occur to methat it would be so hard heading up the last few miles and the steepest part ofthe loop. I made it up without worrying about my time figuring I'd makeup for it on the super fast downhill. At some point in there Sally passedme and I was really surprised. I was happy for her having such a goodrace, but really shocked since I had ridden so strongly through all of ourpractice rides. I'm not sure how I managed to do it, but I don’t rememberthinking negatively. I guess all of mymental meltdowns during the practice rides paid off. I didn't make a conscience decision to thinkpositive, I just forced anything non-productive out of my head. Tracey,just keep going. Ok, there’s the turn,oooh, a giant M&M statue. Oooh,there must be M&Ms here. What?! No M&Ms. Seriously, you’ve got to be kidding me. Why put up a giant M&M statue and not give them out? False advertising!

The way down was fantastic to go fast. I saw thecoaches cheering about 8 miles out and then the rest of the cheer squad furtherinto town. I made the turn and went back up. Looptwo was decidedly easier on the way out. I thought for sure my legs hadjust warmed up and finally I was going as I planned. Whooo hooo, way to go! Keepthose legs spinning and see what you can do. This little hill will be yours! Take it! I turned at the topof the hill and realized that I was fast because of the tailwind. Thewind had picked up and getting back down was like being on an incline. Ahh, crap. Ok, I guess I had to pay for the speed on the way up. I somehow maintained my positivity. Loop two inthe bag and now just one more to go.

I headed back up with the tailwindagain being thankful for the extra speed. On the way back down, I passedthe coaches again and Alexis told me I had it, no worries about the cutoff, Iwould make it with plenty of time. Uh,what do you mean I have plenty of time? Of course I do. I planned on finishingat 4:30. Why would you be telling me Ihave plenty of time? Maybe because I’mclose to the cutoff? Oh NO! Now, here I am thinking I've just flownthrough this course with plenty of time to have a 15 minute transition leavingme with 7 hours for the marathon since I was walking the whole thing. For the first time, I look at the clock timeand see that I am way behind schedule. I've made timing charts for therun with my planned times, worst case scenario times, and worse than worst casescenario, absolutely must-do times. I knew that if I started the run at5:45 I would have to keep a 14:18 pace to finish before midnight. I'venever kept that quick a pace, even during a 5k. Well crap. Guess I better pedal pretty hard right now. I busted as hard as I could for thelast 8 or so miles to give myself whatever cushion I could on the run. I’ll be walking soon, so there’s plenty oftime to recover from this zone 4. Justpush harder! A 30 minute zone 4effort later and I’m back to transition.

T2
I dismount, pass off my bike, and grab my bag. Robinis waiting outside the change tent and I realize I am hyperventilating. I. Can. Not. Breathe. There’s Sally behind me. What is she doing? I scream something reminiscent of Rockyshouting Adrienne to Sally. The volunteer helps me change, I load up mypockets with nutrition for the next couple of hours and head off. Partwaythrough transition I realize I still had on my sunglasses and turned back andthrew them at a volunteer asking if she would put them in my bag. Shegraciously said yes, and out I went still having trouble breathing.

RUN
Whew, still can'tbreathe. I feel like I can only take really shallow breaths.Es Letsche passes me and asked if I was going to hike Kili again with all thecrap I had in my jersey. I told her I would be out there for seven hoursand that's a long time needing a lot of food. She also told me the looptook forever. Actually, I’m pretty sure she said “fucking forever”. I saw the signs on the run course that thecheer squad put up and it kept my mind off my breathing. Sally passes mewithin the first two miles and I still have no idea how she was behind me. I saw the sign with all of the pictures of our dogs, didn’t evenrecognize my own, but did recognize Sally's. I shouted ahead to hersomething about Boudreaux her dog. I crossed the first bridge and see asign that says something like if you haven't crapped your pants, you're alreadya winner. Well, good job me. No crap=winning. I grabbed somewater from the aid station and kept making my pace. I turned the alertsoff my Garmin and jut hit the lap on my watch at every mile. I didn'twant to see the clock time since I was going as fast as I could and no clockwould make me faster.

As I came toward the cheer squad at the end of the firstloop, Mike comes running up to me. I still don't have my breathing under controland am convinced that I need an inhaler. I tell him as much and he asksme where mine is. It's at the house. (I got an inhaler two wintersago when my lungs hurt while running in the cold. I used it onlyoccasionally and never in the year of IM training.) I told him to ask around,ask Priscilla, ask Johanna, someone, anyone, get me something so I can breathe. Mike sprints off with the fear that I will collapse at any moment.

Starting loop two and I finally see the sign with ourTriathletes Hiking Kilimanjaro logo on it. I chuckle again at the winningsign. I have no desire to eat anything, so I just take water at the aidstations and some coke occasionally. It's dark now on the loop so I pullout my headlamp to see where I'm going. I see the coaches at one of thesuper dark stretches on the back of the loop. Ed yells at me to turn offthe headlamp or I will ruin my photo. I yell back that I'm doing afucking marathon right now. He hugs me and I struggle away knowing thatI'm on a tight time crunch. After the next aid station, my stomach is nothappy. I want to vomit, but there’s really nothing in my stomach. Istop on the side of the road in a dark patch and try to make myself throw uphoping I would feel better. No luck. I just stick with sippingwater and coke and sucking on ice. My fastest half marathon time wasaround 3:30 while running. My fastest half marathon while walking was3:37ish. I finally look at the clock time when I get to mile 13, and dothe math. I have to do a half marathonfaster than I ever have before. Eh,all right, then, let’s go, let’s hope for a miracle, you never know what’sgoing to happen. Something gets into me and I feel like I’m flying. Nothing really hurts and my legs are moving. As I pass the 14 milemarker, I think I’m in uncharted territory. I’ve never run more than 14 miles. Let’s see what happens now. I get to the straightaway by the cheer squad and Mike comes runningout of the dark with an inhaler. By now I’m totally fine and haveconvinced myself it was just nerves. (Turns out he tracked down a phonenumber for Johanna, runs to the car, drives to her hotel, gets the inhaler,drives back to the course, parks the car, sprints out onto the course to findme. What a guy!) He walks with me for a bit and I tell him I’ll beok on my own. I apologize as much as I can and keep going.

As the third loop begins my stomach is now starting togurgle. TMI warning: I’ve been burping and farting my way throughthe whole marathon. I stopped for the bathroom twice and just peed. I fully expected there to be more, but nope. I see the winning signagain and think I better hit the bathroom again or I may not even be winningwhen I cross the line. But if youstop now, you’re wasting time and you just don’t have much to spare. Gah! What do I do? Sure enough, glad I did. I feel alittle better. I’m still sucking on ice and sipping coke. (Iremember hearing a podcast about a fitness test on some bikers who were given areal-sugar sports drink. They could slosh it in their mouths but they hadto spit it out. Another group was given a fake-sugar drink to slosh. The real-sugar bikers were able to perform longer because their tonguessent their bodies a message that more energy was on the way before it even hittheir stomachs. The fake-sugar riders didn’t perform as well becausetheir bodies weren’t fooled by simply the sweet taste.) As my stomach isrebelling more, I simply slosh coke around in my mouth and spit it outconvinced that my body will keep moving since it now thinks fuel is on the way.

In the late teens and early 20s of the race I start to thinkof that runner’s high that people get. As I ticked off the miles, I keptthinking, hmmm, there’s supposed to be arunners high somewhere in here. Where is it? People were alsosaying you’re almost there. Usually that’s a terrible thing to hear whenyou have more than six miles to go which translates to an hour and half morerunning. Yep, I AM almost there. Only six more miles. I’ve already gone 134 miles today. Sixmore is nothing. Oh, hey, somethingfeels funny on your toe. Nothing you cando about it now. Just keep moving.

I see Ed, Ryan and Alexis on the same dark stretch again. They are pretty loud about me going faster. Alexis comes up to paceme. I put my finger up in his face and very forcefully tell him that hecan run with me but he has to be quiet. He agrees and bounds ahead. Ryan asks me if I want to be an Ironman today. I say yes. Alexis looks at me again and very meekly asks if I want to be an Ironman. I say yes again and he tells me we have to move. Slowly we pick offanother mile. Alexis again looks as me and very quietly asks me if I wanthim to pace me. I snap back “yes, 15 minute miles, now shut it!” Irealize that I have to give Alexis something to do or he will burst. I swear if he could put his feet in my shoesand move them for me he would have. Istart asking for stuff as we approach an aid station. He runs ahead shouting to the volunteersCOKE, WE NEED COKE. WATER? WHO HAS ICE?! This amuses me more than you know.

Ed and Ryan pop up again and start yelling at me. Theyconvince me to run down this little hill. Alexis goes nuts when I passsomeone, but in the back of my mind I’m thinking that she isn’t going tofinish. I try to encourage her and tell her to come with me. Butshe doesn’t keep up. (Turns out she crossed at 17:02. Heartbreaking.) Alexis keeps trying to get me to run, but my walkpace is nearly the same my run pace so I keep asking Alexis if it’s any faster. It’s not.

We come to the last bridge crossing about 3 miles from thefinish. I haven’t looked at the time at all. I see Mike come out ofthe darkness to walk with me. Then a few minutes later, Nicolas comes outof the dark. As we turn onto the last path to the finish, Ed is suddenlywith me. I’m not really talking to anyone, I just keep looking forward. They all convince me that I have to run. I still don’t know thetime. Ed starts complaining that he hasn’t run this far in forever andthat his feet hurt in his hiking boots. Really?! You’re going tocomplain to me right now? Seriously? Shut the F up! And my toes hurt! He’s snapping pictures behind me. Mike and Nicolas are ahead of me. Alexis is at my side, stillpushing me in my run shuffle. I start handing off all the crap in mypockets and my race belt since it keeps bouncing up and down.

At some point Ryan shows up again (he had taken off ahead tosee Sally to the finish line). So now, I’m slogging along as fast as Ican go with this entourage of people “encouraging” me to go faster. Just keepmoving. I can’t do this race again. I HAVE to finish today. I can’t leave Sally to do this all alone. Everyone is yelling at me. I’mtruly spent. Wow my legs and lungs are burning. I start thinking about the finish line area. I rememberthe finish at IM Florida where people came in perpendicular to the chute, hadto run past it, do a U turn, and then finish. Where doesthat last path go? How far is thechute? If I don’t finish, it has to be bymore than a few seconds. I’dseen our finish line, but the route to get to it was still uncertain. Iwanted to finish, but I didn’t know how long it would take to get to the line. Finally I’m at the turn off and heading to the path to the finish. Thank you I don’t have to loop again. I’m running out of gas. I realize where I am in the parking lot. There’s a course official telling me to hurry. Ed is looking at hisphone. Alexis is jumping like a crack addict on fire. Ryantells me to look ahead, the stoplight is the chute. I cansee the lights but how far away is it? Ican’t run anymore. Ah, walking, thatfeels sooo good. All at onceEd, Ryan, Alexis, Mike and Nicolas scream at me to RUN! YOU HAVE TO RUNFAST RIGHT NOW. I think I may have given everyone a heart attack. Fine, FINE! If I run, I think I’ll shut them up. I’m running again. I make the final left turn into the finishchute and I see the clock, 16:59:16. How fardo I have to go? Remember to savor themoment. Listen for your name. Listen for the song. WOW! Thatnoise is really loud. My ears hurt. How much further? Keep moving. Robin will be at the end. Whereis she? Oh, there’s Rich about to fallout of the stands. I’m sure the rest ofthe cheer squad is with him. Oh my Godthis hurts. There’s Robin! Why is her hair so bright? I think this is the finish line. Put your arms up. What’s your finish line pose? Oh Robin, I’m so glad to see you. Yes, that’s a medal around my neck. CRAP, I can’t breathe. I need to bend over and catch my breath. Shit, I AM AN IRONMAN!

Sally comes out of nowhere and hugs me. I walk throughthe crowd to see my friends and family all coming toward me. I head tothe fenceline and everyone is crying. Everyone. All of the IMAZerswere there. Cheer squad is surroundingme. Mike tells me I made him anIronbaby. Ryan and Ed are telling me they were having a heartattack. I keep looking for my Mom, findher and hug her. I take the finish linepicture. I realize that I didn’t evensee Mike Reilly in the chute and I missed hearing my name. I go back to the line, find Mike and grab himin a hug. I told him I’ve waited a longtime to hear him tell me I was an Ironman. He looked at me in the eyes and said, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN. I turn to head back and Alexis is next to me again! Jeez. What does he want from me now? He hands me my shirt and hat and saysCongratulations. Thank you Alexis. For everything. I look at my too-small shirt, offhandedly saysomething about it, and off he goes to get me a new one. He is one persistent little bugger.

POST RACE

I look down at my left shoe fully expecting to see some kindof bloody mess but there’s nothing. After I get home I take off my shoes and see there’s a blister UNDER thetoenail. I name it Alexis. My other foot has blood blisters under twotoes. I name them Ed and Ryan. The Coaches, like my blisters, popped up outof nowhere, were sometimes obnoxious though mostly tolerable, but mostimportantly reminded me every step of the way they were there until the veryend. Alexis has since fallen off and Edand Ryan are still purple but hanging on. I’ve looked forward to a pedicure for a year, but still can’t getone. Either I have two black nails orone not painted. It’s ok though. Everyday I look down and am reminded of whatI accomplished. And every day, for thenext 3 to 6 months while Alexis grows back in, I won’t forget his support and encouragementthat got me across that finish line.

Tomorrow...

2011-11-19T19:56:00.001-05:00

I'm sitting here the night before my Ironman with a swirl of emotions. When I let my mind relax, I think I'm just sitting in a really nice house chilling and watching tv. Then something snaps me back to reality and the butterflies start up. Then I look at Facebook, which has been blowing up lately, and am emotional at all of the support people have sent my way. I'm again in awe at the people who have surrounded me with their good wishes. Good friends have sent me emails and texts. Another friend sent a fruit basket. I've gotten encouraging emails from people who I didn't expect at all. It's all becoming a bit much and I'm struggling to keep my emotions in check.I don't know why this experience is so intense and I think tomorrow will be even more so. Deep breaths Tracey. Tomorrow you will be an Ironman.

How Do I Feel?

2011-11-09T20:30:00.000-05:00

My friends planned a farewell/good luck dinner last night to wish Sally and I well for our race. The emerging question became "How do you feel?" I didn't have a ready answer for it, so they threw out some suggestions, none of which quite fit how I was feeling.

Excited? No.

Happy? No.

Nervous? No.

Scared? No.

Worried? No.

Excited is reserved for something really fun. IM will not be fun, it will be hard work. The celebration after will be fun, but the race itself will be 17 hours of focused determination.

Happy is for birthdays and good news. IM will not make me happy. I'll be happy at my sense of accomplishment when I'm finished, but the race will be decidedly miserable.

Nervous is what I feel when I'm not sure what to expect. I know what to expect for IM and I'm prepared to handle it.

Scared is what happens when you let nervous take over. I'm ready for the race and won't let anything get in my way.

Worried is not knowing how to handle a situation. I've prepared plans and contingencies to handle the unexpected.

Well, what then? After a few minutes I landed on eager. I'm eager for November 20th to be here.

Eager is being prepared for what lay ahead and ready to tackle any obstacles that get in the way of your goal.

Truly I'm ready for this race to be here. I had to take a mental health night. No workouts, no planning, no thinking about time cut-offs, no more prepping. My brain hurts.

On a lighter note, I'm also eager for loads of other things:

-sleeping in

-eating whatever I feel like

-going out with friends

-drinking a glass of wine

-going for a fun bike ride

-not worrying about getting injured

-wearing cute shoes again

-using my car for people, not as a mobile locker room

-taking more showers at home than the gym

-not packing three bags every day just to leave the house

-not planning anything

-not buying advil in bulk at costco

-half as much laundry

-wearing my new IM medal at work

Eleven days and counting.

Encouragement and Motivation

2011-10-25T22:18:00.001-04:00

I want people to know that I write my blog mostly for myself, but a little for people who are thinking of taking on something larger than themselves, especially things well out of their comfort zone. I don't write it so people will reply with the pats on the back. (Though today and all days, I really appreciate the encouragement.)

Triathlon is not easy. Ironman especially is not easy. It's not something you choose to do on a whim or because your friends signed up. You sure don't do an Ironman because it's the thing to do in a cool beach town. There's something deep down only you know about that motivates you to sign up. Ironman will chew you up and spit you out if you don't respect the distance. But if you're willing to put in the hard work and hours, you can cross the finish line.

The last 24 hours have reminded me why I love my triathlon team so much. The outpouring of support has been amazing. I've gotten loads of responses, notes, private messages, emails, all positive reminders of my ability to conquer this race.

Since all of my message are scattered about, I'm going to put them here. I want to be able to reference one place of complete and positive encouragement the day before my race. Looking now, it seems a bit egotistical, but I intend this to be motivation for myself and for anyone attempting something beyond their own perceived limits.

Though every message is very much appreciated, the one that hit the core of what I was feeling was from Tim Greten:

You will be fine race day because you put in so much training [that] you died on [the] 120 day.

And if you know Tim, then you're just as surprised as I am that he's the one that got through to me. :)

Here are the rest from my facebook page:

(Keeping sender public since it was on FB. If I missed your blog link or if anyone wants me to remove their comment, let me know.)

Christy Gronlund Magee: So, it wasn't 125 miles of epic, it was 95 miles of epic instead -with a life lesson on the side. I'm certain that with 17 miles to go on race day you won't be tempted to quit. Remember why you wanted to be an Ironman: because it's hard, there are no shortcuts, and you have to keep moving forward even when it seems easier to quit. And I'll be there ringing cowbell when you realize YOU CAN!
Patti Jackson: Tracy we all have those training days and we may never know what causes them. So wipe your eyes, lift your head and imagine Mike waiting for you at the finish line at Arizona. Then drinks in Cozumel :)
Patty Glass: I will be ringing a cow bell from VA, but will drink with you IRONMAN in Cozumel...you're an inspiration to me! Keep your head up .....
Sherri Brothers: I wish I had the perfect words for you...I always try to keep in mind that the people who didn't start are the ones behind me. And now you continue to move forward...
Sally Kidd: Tracey I can't even begin to tell you how awesome it was to have you and Timra Stump watching over me as I finished those last few miles..waiting at the intersections for me to pass and yelling "rock star" out the window. And then there you were at the end, Diet Coke in hand, taking my bike for me and pulling my car around. All of this after having one of your most mentally challenging rides ever. You'll have the last laugh at those inner demons and we WILL celebrate at the IMAZ finish line!!
Holly Shoemaker: OK, honestly when you said you Quit your ride and then I read that you quit at 95 when the ride was 125, I thought...Just a hard day, She is going to be just FINE on race day. Because on Nov 20 when you are at 95 and you only have 17 more miles to go to T2, I know you will put your head down and get it done. Even B@D @SS B@BE'S have rough days. BIG HUGS to you and extra COWBELL coming your way now and every day until Nov 21st!!
Deb Chamberlin: Tracey - your honesty on your post makes me realize that I was not alone, although I spent most of the day was spent alone as I lost the others. I wanted to quit so badly at around the 85 mile mark and .... honestly ... you were my motivation - your candid and positive evaluations in the past of how you were feeling and how you would reprogram kept me going. I am sorry you had a challenging ride but know that your spirit was what was out there motivating others ie me!!
Emily Wyant: Tracey, you ROCK in my mind! 95miles on a TOUGH day??!?!? You are a beast!
Kara Richardson Whitely: Seriously, Tracey...YOU ARE MY HERO!
Esther Letsche: I'm of the opinion if you don'tend up on the side of the road bawling your eyes out at some point duringIronman training, you're not training hard enough! :-). Come race day, thoughtsof quitting pail in comparison to thoughts of crossing the finish line!
Gina Welc: Tracey you are very ready forthis. Remember - you have already done the distance! I think harder thanquitting at 95 miles is writing this blog post. Great job out there. *hugs*
Sara Godoy Greene: You're amazing Tracey& as everyone keeps reminding me, we've put plenty of miles in the bank& we are ready! It is tough to quit....I was done at mile 70. Wanted tocall a sag at mile 107 (because I figured that was enough), but somehow foundan additional 20miles in my legs (all thanks to our Team Z matesreally). No matter what though, you know you're going to rock it!
Donna Sumption: Tracey, you got this inthe bag! You are so hardcore. Don't worry about not finishing. The crowds in Arizona will push youthrough. It is a whole different experience on race day. You will remember itfor the rest of your life, but you won't remember so many things. Like youwon't remember that your knees are supposed to hurt like they usually do. Youwill see.
Maggie Crnic: Keep your eye on the prize,Tracey. The prize is not a training ride in Nokesville. When race day comes youwill be fresh and rested and the crowds will be incredible. You will finish.
Tim Greten: It will feel even better whentaper ends and race day is here. I just remember starting run thinking"gee, just one Saturday morning run left"
Amy Hoang Wrona: You'll do great oh conquerorof high mountains!
Catherine Oliver: You are going to be GREAT! I promise!

From emails and private messages:

(Keeping the sender private since they sent directly to me.)

Hey Tracey, I just read your blog. I'm sure you have a lot of emotions going through your head right now but I know how well you rode yesterday, you rocked it! You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, you are more than ready for Ironman. You might recall that when you finished the 110 miles ride, I sagged in at mile 15! We all have our good days and our bad days, but we need to focus on the good ones and think positive. Think of it this way, you finished 110 which is the same as 112 and you are riding VERY strong. You not only can be but will be an Ironman in AZ. Rock on!!!! Big hugs.

hey I have not had time to read your blog but I just want you to know I think your going to rock and I am super proud to be your friend and a part of your IM journey. The first one is so incredibly hard mentally, physically all of it. Believe in yourself as we all do in you and know that each and everyone of us will be with you on IM day !!! you will be IM AZING !!!!!!

Two things - I'm sure you're getting three dozen messages in response to your wonderful post - please ignore if it's all too much. 1. The thought occurred to me this weekend - "Wow, Tracey has totally transformed herself as a cyclist." Which you have - I don't way this to take away from that at all. But - I wonder if maybe (only *maybe*) that in the bike you are overcompensating for the run - you can't run, you do what you can. you've accommodated your injury, so maybe (*maybe*?) you try to make up for it on the ride? The new bike has made a huge difference for you. So maybe (*maybe*) you went out too fast? Have you reviewed your HR data? We're you always in Z2? How about for the first hour or two? High Z2? What does that tell you about how you felt at mile 95? Margie Shapiro always used to tell us that no matter what we did, we needed to stay in Z2 for the first hour. What we do at mile 0 has an impact 2,3,5,8 hours later in endurance sports. 2. There's no shame in quitting What you're doing is "retreating to fight again another day" - i.e. Ironman day.You have this Tracey - totally. 100%. I have no doubts about your ability to become an Ironman next month. Thank you for writing about how hard it is - it's good to be reminded. (Editorial: She's right about me overcompensating on the bike. I've been focusing on increasing my speed so that I have enough time to walk the marathon. Also, my heart rate-or zone/Z2 was about the same as my very successful ride. The 120 was purely a mental game for me.)

Just read your blog. You've done the training, you listened to your body and you are sooo ready for the race! I just had brunch with a friend and she was telling me that you're going to have to walk the marathon at IM b/c you can't run at all. You my friend, are courageous and hearing that gave me inspiration that if I can't run again do to my many foot injuries, I can still toe the line at an IM. Take care and GO TRA-Z!

A ton of people said that no matter what happened yesterday, you can still make it happen on race day. You have a lot of good training in the piggy bank of IMAZ already!!!! So, don't let one day beat you up so bad!

Yep, It's Hard to Quit

2011-10-24T20:01:00.000-04:00

Six weeks ago I posted about quitting a ride. Yesterday I confirmed it. I quit my ride and it was hard. This week was the culmination of our year of training, the epic 20/120 weekend. Translated, it's a 20 mile run on Saturday and a 120 mile bike ride on Sunday. This is a legendary weekend on our team. Epic to most people.

Yesterday’s ride was my hardest in five years and I quit, I sagged in. I’ve only been sagged once from a ride, back in 2008 or so, and that was when I was riding in the dead winter with an older teammate who wasn't accustomed to the frigid temps and hilly ride route.

I planned my nutrition around a 70 mile loop, coming back to the car to refuel, then a 50 mile loop. The timing of our rides and how we loop back is a very sensitive subject. I think it's mentally draining to be back at your car, so if I can put that as late in the ride as possible I do. At the last minute, the coaches changed our ride order. We did the 50 loop first, then to the cars, and back out for 70 more. And to top it off, it was really 51 miles and 74 miles. Let me tell you, knowing my race is 112 miles going 120 is darn difficult. It's almost frickin' impossible to see you have to go 125!

After finishing the 50 loop, I felt great. I was riding with a faster group than I usually do and kept a decent pace. My legs felt fine. As we started the second loop, I started to fall apart. That nagging feeling in my head started to take over. At about mile 60, I was frustrated. At mile 65, I needed a kick in the pants to keep going. I felt the emotion welling up as I was riding, but nothing came out. I called my husband six time zones away to get some mental support. I woke him up, and I think I scared him when I started balling. The tears flowed for a bit and I waved off my teammates as they passed me. (I apologize for not being more friendly, I was having a meltdown. Though I was cognizant of you being behind me and it really surprised me. I thought for sure I was near the back of the pack as usual.)

My wheels were falling off mentally. I struggled for 30 more miles. I pushed to the rest stop at mile 95 and gave up. It was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I’m still not sure what happened and today it’s even difficult to think about, but I was a wreck emotionally. I barely kept it together in the car on the way in. I chatted with people but kept my thoughts to myself. Everyone around me was having just as challenging a day.

At the parking lot I changed and prepared myself for the onslaught of questions about how the ride was. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to deal with anyone. The Team was having a big BBQ celebration in honor of all the Ironmen-to-be. The coaches go all out on this weekend to make sure we are fed and taken care of. When I made it down to the pavilion, most of the crowd had left and I was happy to just get my food and sit. I was a mess and not prepared to be social. After I finished eating I went back up to my car to clean up and wait for another teammate.

I just sat in my car for a while trying to gather my own thoughts about my performance and keep myself together emotionally. As the last of the riders came in, my good buddy Sally was still out there. I jumped in my car with another teammate and we went out on the road to find her. We found her near dusk about 5 miles from the finish. Earlier in the day, as I was quitting at mile 95, we waited for her to come through. Now, nearly three hours later, she was still plugging away at those last 30 miles. She had a smile on her face and appeared to be happy. She had been riding for close to 11 hours and went 17 more miles than were necessary for her race. At that moment, I was so happy for Sally and impressed that she was gutting through a challenging day. For myself, I was relieved I quit but also disappointed for not going more.

Looking back today I'm not happy with my performance, but I'm not sure I'd be happy if I kept going either. I'm not really sure what the right answer is. I do know now that I don't like this feeling and will do anything I can to avoid it in the future. I guess I'll just have to take some time to figure out my lesson learned.

Here's the Garmin map of the ride in case you're wondering what 95 miles on a bike looks like. (I forgot to stop it when I quit so the time is a bit off.)

You Are What You Think

2011-10-10T14:02:00.000-04:00

How do you become mentally tough? I've read all the triathlon magazines, running articles, an occasional sports psychology book, and all the inspirational athletes' books and I can't remember one of them telling me anything more than to just BE mentally tough. None of them told me how to do it. Here's what I realized over the past few weeks:

A few years ago, I vividly remember heading out of T2 during a race feeling like crap. I realized it was just some leg cramping that I've felt before and I knew it would go away about 10 minutes into the run.

A few weeks ago I had a crappy 80 mile bike ride in Easton, Maryland. My head wasn't cooperating with my legs. I knew I could physically go further, but my brain wasn't happy about it.

Two weeks ago we had a ladies only triathlon clinic to review some of the more delicate issues we as women face while competing. One theme: mental toughness.

Those three things swirled in my head to crystallize what I've always sort of known but haven't really been able to nail down and articulate: YOU ARE WHAT YOU THINK!

Last weekend was a milestone ride for us. 110 miles which I turned into 112, the full Ironman distance. It was a long ride. Eight hours long without much stopping. It was the same course as the Easton 80 miler, but instead of a 50 mile loop combined with a 13 mile loop, it was TWO 50 mile loops with a 6 mile loop at the end. There was wind every way we turned and never it seemed at our backs.

Something got into me, rather into my head, in a very, very good way. I got on the bike just flew. I kept my legs moving despite the wind. In fact, I didn't really feel the wind. I mean, I felt it, it just didn't seem that bad. When I made a turn, I felt the wall of air hit me and just buckled down and pushed harder. I didn't dwell on it. It wasn't something I could do anything to prevent, so I just had to deal with it and move on. Whenever I felt bad, I did a mental inventory of what I was feeling. Is it physical? Starting at the top of my head, I worked my way down to isolate just exactly what the problem was. If I didn't come upon a physical problem, I'd work though my head. What EXACTLY is it? After I pinpointed the problem I tried to come up with a solution. Most every issue resulted in asking myself "what would I do during the race in Arizona?" (Thanks Marie for the inspiration.) The answer, every time, was suck it up and keep going. Eventually I'd minimized the issue to such insignificant proportions that it melted away. I don't know if this will work for everyone, but it does for me.

I finished that ride well ahead of my expected time and for the first time since signing up for Ironman Arizona, I thought "I can do this. I can F-ING do this. I'm going to FINISH this race!"Everyone says that mental toughness is the key to finishing an Ironman. I've found mine. What tricks do you have to get to your mentally tough place?

Hike Day 2: Thursday August 4

2011-09-08T20:28:00.027-04:00

(Read about the Day 1 Hike Here)

Thursday morning I woke up feeling uneasy about what the hike would do to me. I poked my head out of the tent to see what the campsite looked like in the day light. Here it is:

Each morning we had a few personal chores to handle. First, the camp waiter would come to our tent with a bowl of washing water to clean our hands. This was also the time to brush our teeth with bottled water, wash our faces and general personal hygiene. After the washing water was taken away, we were brought hot tea, hot chocolate or hot coffee. Taking the time to enjoy the morning while also trying to put on clean clothes, wash hands, roll up sleeping bags, repack duffels, add more snacks from our duffel bag stash to our day packs, and be on time for breakfast was challenging. I'm not sure we were ever on time.

Breakfast consisted of "pancakes" which were more crepe-like than cake-like. We had jam to put on top. Toast was on the table waiting when we sat down. We also were served porridge, kind of similar to runny oatmeal, with sugar to add. After we all stuffed ourselves, out came eggs, sort of like a frittata. Out of kindness, we all took some. Then came sausages, which were really hot dogs, and finally fruit. It was a LOT of food. I'm not sure why they thought we would eat so much.

I didn't have much of an appetite which is a standard side effect of the Diamox. I forced down some porridge thinking it was similar to what I have at home before a big race or training day. I spent the rest of the breakfast answering questions about the previous night's freak-out episode. I did my best to describe what happened and allay the fears of my fellow hikers that I would be ok to continue up the mountain. During the pre-hike talk the night before we left the hotel, the guides were insistent that if something goes wrong to tell them immediately. They are our lifesavers and have to handle any emergencies on the mountain themselves. At this first camp, it's easy to call down to the bottom and get more supplies or an extra porter if needed. Even evacuation at this point is fairly simple and quick. I told the guide what happened earlier and he immediately took my day pack for the day. I protested at first, but then got a stern look from him that made me quiet.

We refilled our camelbacks from bottled water we had from the day before and headed up the trail. I started thinking that walking further up the mountain meant that I was getting further and further from escaping. Eventually my breathing was steadied and my heart rate settled into an easy rhythm. After about 20 minutes, I started feeling some tingling in my lips. Then I felt it in my hands and feet. Even though it was nearly 12 hours after I took it, the diamox was really kicking into my system and I was feeling all 500mg worth. I did my best to stay hydrated (essential to fending off altitude sickness) but it was harder now since I wasn't carrying my own bag. The tingling eventually dissipated and we continued our merry way up the mountain.

For the past year we've seen every picture of Kilimanjaro possible, read all the blogs we could find, and researched all the possible routes. We've driven nearly all the way around the mountain and are now walking up one side of it, YET WE HAVEN'T EVER SEEN THE SUMMIT WITH OUR OWN EYES. Until this:

The clouds parted for just a few minutes for us to catch a glimpse of what we'd spent the past year dreaming, training, and fundraising for and what we'd be spending the next five days climbing. We were all awestruck by the magnificence.

I spent most of that day anxious about the coming night. What would happen to me when I went to sleep? Would I stop breathing? Would I wake up? What if I didn't sleep, could I continue to hike up? Each step meant that I was further from the bottom with no way down. I was feeling more and more trapped every moment. I knew that hiking this mountain would be preparing me for Ironman Arizona. I spent a lot of time in my own head practicing my mental toughness and convincing myself that I could go on.

We stopped for a quick snack: the hikers took out Clif bars, the triathletes took out gu and blocks, and the guides took out sugar cane. Using my pocket knife, the Guide took off the outer layers,

and shared with us. I loved it. Sally wasn't too sure of it. I tried to explain to her how to eat it, but she had already sucked all the sweet out of it, then chewed the leftovers and swallowed. No wonder.

Each day we left the camp fully assembled with only our day packs. The Porters would disassemble camp, clean up, repack all the supplies and rush up the trail ahead of us. As we made it to our lunch spot, here is what was waiting for us:

Porters were just hanging around waiting for us to get there. Hmph. I feel like a bit of a slacker now. This was the first meal we would have on the trail, not in camp, and they didn't disappoint.

This is our meal and kitchen tent. The front half with the table is where we ate. Behind the divider curtain is the kitchen with a propane tank for the cooking (like the kind on regular size backyard bbqs) and all of the kitchen supplies. There was one cook who had gone to culinary school and his job was chef.

This spot on the mountain was known as second cave. It used to be used for cooking and camping, but it's been banned now.

View from inside the cave:

Trying to get a picture when I told Sally to watch out for the animal skull behind her. She wasn't too happy.

And us finally posing:

After lunch we kept on walking up the mountain. By now the weather is cooling a bit. It's still ok with short sleeves when moving, but stopping means you get cold. The clouds are also starting to roll in. It's a disorienting feeling not being able to see the horizon or anything around you for reference. The afternoon trail had more turns and ridges on it so we couldn't see the final camp for the night. When we asked the Guides how much further, they almost always said not far now. It was their way of keeping our spirits high. But we're triathletes, we need to know a distance so we can pace appropriately. We were all tired and ready to be done when off in the distance we see two of the porters waiting for us on another ridge. Sally and I picked up the pace to meet them. We walked over the ridge to see this:

And eventually this:

It was the Kikelewa Caves Bivouac at 10,800' and our camp for the night. There are quite a few ways up Kilimanjaro and many of them share campsites. This was our first idea of how many people were on the mountain with us.

We had an uneventful dinner and settled in to bed for the night. I was still anxious about sleeping and how I would fare for the next few days. I talked with one other hiker in our group and she let me have a few of her 250mg diamox to take instead of my 500mg. I took it and went to sleep without any problems.

Day 2 Stats:
Total Hike Time: 10 hours 13 minutes
Moving Time: 5 hours 31 minutes
Distance: 7.86miles
Lowest Point: 8618'
Highest Point: 12,177'
Elevation Gain: 3628'
Average HR: 121
Max HR: 152

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Side Note:
Please take this in the spirit in which it is intended: My personal experience in which I am unable to do justice to the topic, nor am I being especially eloquent or politically correct in describing it.

The first morning the washing water was brought to our tents, I was a little uneasy. It was certainly a luxury not to have to leave the tent in the chilly air, but I immediately thought of being served in the master/slave sense and I felt very uncomfortable. All the hikers on this trip were white and all the waiters, porters, and guides were black. Since I am an American, this racial line is embedded in my history and it's hard to ignore. On the one hand I realize that I needed to wash my hands each morning and there was no way for me to get my own water. I paid a lot of money for this trip and this is part of the service provided to the customers. On the other hand, I would have been happy to go to a hand washing station where they brought the water versus me being served. I even offered to come out to get my tea, but the waiter wouldn't let me. This racial line weighed on me for the rest of the trip.

Hike Day 1: Wednesday August 3

2011-08-31T20:32:00.033-04:00

We have a lot of adventures before and after the hike, but I've gotten more questions about the hike than anything so I'm starting with my hike report first. More on the other stuff a little later.

We spent Tuesday night before the climb getting a pre-hike talk from the guides letting us know what to take with us and what to expect over the next few days. I took some notes, but kept thinking "now what?" If I didn't have my gear, there was no last minute run to REI to pick it up. We also rearranged our bags putting all of our hiking gear into our duffels and our post-hike things into a bag we would leave at the hotel. Wednesday morning we made sure our day packs had our essential items only, ate breakfast at the hotel and nervously discussed what was coming the next few days.

We loaded up the bus and headed to the base of the mountain near Moshi on the south side, to go pick up our permits and check in. We all took pictures and signed in the official book. We could see the signs and rules and I was getting pretty excited about getting started. Unfortunately we still had to drive a few hours to the northeast side of the mountain. Considering the route we drove to get from Nairobi in Kenya to Moshi in Tanzania, we've driven nearly all the way around the base of the mountain.

At the base of the Rongai route we unloaded from the bus and headed to the tourist picnic area as our porters, 19 in all, unloaded our gear. One of them brought us our lunch boxes while we waited for the others to sort out our supplies. The food shopping had already been done and most of the supplies put into large plastic woven bags. To protect the porters, the maximum weight they are allowed to carry is something like 40 pounds. As the supplies were distributed, each porter carried his bag to the ranger hut and weighed it. We had to keep our personal duffels under 33 pounds since the porter would be adding stuff to our bags.

After finishing our lunches, checking our water, and making the last visit to a toilet we would see for a few days, we were off.

At the base of the mountain we were at about 6,500’. I felt fine, no altitude affecting me at this point at all. Our pace was incredibly slow because when climbing and staying at altitude, time is the most important factor to acclimatization. If you make too quick of an ascent you’ll feel the affects of altitude sickness which could lead to death of untreated. The only remedy is to descend as quickly as possible. We kept hearing pole pole, pronounced poh-lay, poh-lay, which means slowly, slowly. This pace is an abrupt change from all of my triathlon training. On the mountain I was praised for being slow.

The trail was dusty and not especially steep. We saw a few people pass us, even one couple on their honeymoon.(He wanted to climb, she wasn’t as excited about going. We all wondered how long the marriage would last.) Our packs were filled with clean fresh bottled water, so staying hydrated (another key to fending off altitude sickness) was no problem. We all just drank from our camelbacks as needed. Along the trail, we saw porters passing us carrying big loads of our stuff on their heads and more stuff on their backs.

We stopped to take pictures at a sign on the way up too. I don’t know why this is called the Nalemoru route as we were on the Rongai. I think the trails merged somewhere further up.

The hike went by uneventfully and it wasn’t too strenuous of a climb, but getting the day started at the hotel, the bus, checking in, more bus, checking in again, waiting, and finally hiking, all wore us down, probably more mentally than physically at this point.

We realized that at the end of the day we still hadn’t seen the summit. We didn’t know how far up we were really going. As dusk rolled in, we were ready for camp. Unfortunately we made it to camp after dark so it was a little disorienting. We had to go check in at a ranger station and then find our tents.

We learned on this first day that the porters were assigned to a specific bag, which meant they were assigned to a specific person. Each porter had taken our duffel out of the plastic woven bag and placed it on the ground in front of him. We were to go and pick out our bags. I was prepared to carry it to my tent, but the porter reached down quickly took it from me. Sally’s porter did the same and put them in our tents for us. They had already put our foam pad down. They gave us a quick lesson on the tents and then disappeared.

Dinner was being cooked for us in the main kitchen tent. There was a cook, some helpers, and even a waiter. We sat down to popcorn and hot tea. It seems like an odd combination, but the warm tea in the cooler temperatures felt good and the salt on the popcorn hit the spot.

The waiter cleared the snacks and dinner was served to us. It’s funny to think about all of the extra weight they carried. We ate on ceramic plates with metal silverware and ceramic mugs. They had full size canisters of condiments for the meals too. Dinner was set for only the 6 hikers at the table.

I have no idea where the porters went or what they ate. It weighed on me wondering what they were eating and if they had shelter. This also contradicts every campground etiquette rule I know. Campsites are social communities. People share their food, share stories, share their fires. I wanted to share my experiences and hear what the porters had to say too. Unfortunately it wouldn’t happen this night or any of the others.

The temperatures were mild during the day, but at night they dropped enough that I had to put on a jacket and pants. After dinner, we all used the toilet tent and settled into our tents for the night. I made an effort to brush my teeth and wash my face. A habit which would end up being short lived.

At this point I’ve taken a few advil to prevent any knee issues but none of my altitude medication. There are a few schools of thought on the altitude. 1) skip the meds and let the altitude affect you. In mild cases, you’ll have dizziness and nausea and no appetite. 2) skip the meds because if you’re climbing at the right pace, the altitude won’t affect you. 3) take the meds and experience some side effects like tingling face and fingers or nausea which are not unlike the altitude affects. I opted for waiting to take the meds until I really needed them. My plan was to start at the beginning of day 2, the next morning, since I was feeling fine.

I read for a little bit and then turned the lights out eager for sleep. About an hour later I bolted up in my sleeping bag gasping for air. I felt trapped in the bag and ripped the zipper open. I took deep breaths, but it wasn’t helping. I pulled the tent open, put on my boots and tried to walk around some. I don’t remember saying anything out loud, rather just thinking that I had to get off the mountain. I was nearly hyperventilating and gasping for air trying to find the trail to go back down. We’d only walked up for about four hours and I was certain I could find my way down alone and in the dark. My mind was racing through the logistics of finding a ride at the bottom of the mountain, yelling goodbye to the group and telling them I’d meet them in a week. I was not thinking clearly, my only thought was that I was trapped. (I've only experienced claustrophobia one other time in my life. It was while exploring underground caves in Budapest with a tour group and I got stuck in one tight spot nicknamed the birth canal.)

Someone obviously heard me wandering and gasping and asked if I was ok. I said that I couldn’t breathe. It was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. I was having what I can only describe as an anxiety attack. I kept walking in circles trying to calm down and breathe. Because we had gotten into camp after dark, I was disoriented too. I couldn’t get my bearings and my own internal equilibrium was out of whack.

I’m not sure how long I was out of the tent, but I eventually got back in and laid down so I could slow my heart rate. Sally reminded me of some yoga breathing which gave me another focus. I got out a book and tried to read to keep my mind occupied. Unfortunately, it was a book about a woman who swam in Antarctica. She described in excruciating detail about how the cold water makes you gasp for breath. I threw it down and tried the yoga breathing again.

Eventually my mind came back to me and I realized that I should take one of my altitude pills, Diamox. (more info on Diamox here) I reread some of our pre-trip paperwork and think I was suffering from Cheyne-Stokes Respirations. It’s not unlike what happens to someone with sleep apnea, though at low elevations a few deep breathes will recalibrate the oxygen levels in the body. At altitude, there’s less oxygen and it’s harder to reset.

About an hour later, I felt much better and was able to doze on and off through the rest of the night, though I was scared to fall into too deep of a sleep fearing that I would wake up with the same gasping breathing or worse, just stop breathing at all and not wake up.

Day 1 Stats:
Total Hike Time: 4 hours 12 minutes
Moving Time:2 hours 55 minutes
Distance: 4.77 miles
Lowest Point:6581'
Highest Point:8621'
Elevation Gain: 2022'
Average HR:109
Max HR:150

(Day 2 Here)

It's Hard to Quit

2011-08-21T20:38:00.002-04:00

I know I owe a long post or two about the hike, but this 80 mile ride is fresh in my mind. It's the longest ride I've ever done. Two weeks ago I was attempting to summit Kili, one week ago I was on a 36-hour, four-flight debacle home, today I battled the wind and heat of Easton Maryland. Today was the toughest by far.

I spent a lot of time on the mountain thinking about my red blood cell production. It's what your body does at altitude to compensate for the lack of oxygen. Every time the hike got hard, I reminded myself that I was producing lots and lots of super-oxygen-toting red blood cells. Unfortunately, your body only hangs on to them for about two weeks after you return to sea level. I was hoping I could still benefit during today's ride. Alas, no, my body got rid of them all already.

The other thing I reminded myself of on the hike was that I was doing this incredibly intense physical activity for six days with little rest between sessions. Each bit of the hike lasted between six and eight hours, then eat, sleep, eat, do it again. I knew the Ironman race would be 17 hours for me, but that when I was done I could sleep and rest for DAYS. Just keep pushing up the mountain, just keep pushing in the race.

Today I rode 54 miles, went back to my car to refuel and then back out for another 26. Those 13 miles out and 13 back were really, really hard. I tried to remember the mountain, I tried to remind myself that I wouldn't quit during the race, I tried everything to keep myself from going to that dark place inside that would allow me to quit. Nothing worked. I saw the sag driver and knew I was the last person out. Everyone would be waiting for me. I pulled alongside his truck and got off my bike. He asked me if I was ok, I said "no, I'm done". I nearly cried right there. That black space inside took over and said it was ok to quit.

Then something happened. I'm not sure what, but something else inside me woke up and without realizing, I said, "no, I'm not quitting. I'll finish." I got back on my bike and rode the rest of the way in. It was miserable, it was hot, I was uncomfortable on my saddle, I hated every minute of it, but I finished. I did all 80.

So, my lessons learned for tomorrow's ride? There's something inside of me that won't let me quit. Even when I am at my lowest, alone, hurting, miserable, I didn't quit. I need to find that spot a little earlier in the ride next time and capitalize on it.

Lesson 2. Take coke with me or put it in my special needs bag. I'm not sure what it does, but I had it after the ride and it made my stomach feel so much better.

Back on the wagon this week with Ironman training. Last week was jet lag recovery. No more excuses. We have training camp this weekend. 90 miles on the bike and a good long run/walk. Time to focus in on the positive, find the place that won't let me quit, buckle down and train.

The Best Physical Therapist

2011-06-05T15:59:00.005-04:00

In the few weeks since I've updated, I got a second opinion on my knees (same prognosis) and started physical therapy. The funny thing is that neither ortho took the time to give me other options. Both just said running was over for me. No advice on how to move forward, no helping me come up with a long term plan, no working with me to help solve my problem.

When I went to the PT, a fellow Team Zer, Kerri of Fast Track, she studied me. Really took a long time watching me run, move, bend, poke and prod until the light bulb came on. Literally, I saw the moment when she figured out how to help me. My arthritis will always be there, nothing to be done about that, but how to make me stronger, that's what she helped me figure out. It turns out my ankles are really tight. So much so that I can't bend them properly which means when I want to squat, my knees turn in aggravating the arthritis and causing pain, so I stop squatting, which tightens everything more, which makes it hurt more when I squat...you get the idea. It was a vicious circle of pain, misuse, and tightening muscles.

My physical therapy now consists of about 40 minutes of deep tissue massage (not the feel-good kind), lots of joint movement, and lots of stretching. I'm doing squats at home, more stretching, and more strengthening. I've made good progress and I see hope on the horizon. I now feel like I have a partner in this process and I'm controlling my knees not the other way around.

(Funny story...Last night Kerri and I were at a party for a mutual friend. I went over to get a bottle of water from a bucket on the floor. Because I was wearing a dress, I couldn't just bend over, so I squatted. As soon as I stood up, I looked around to see if Kerri had seen me. A month ago I wouldn't have been able to do that.)

Based on my progress, I was cleared to do my first hike. Mike and I took the dog out to Great Falls and did an easy 4-mile loop. The beauty of this hike is that the first half is trail and rock scrambling. Whenever you get tired, you can cut up to the flat gravel canal tow path that parallels the trail.

I felt pretty good throughout the hike today, but definitely see that I need to do more strengthening of my legs. We'll see how I feel tomorrow. It's going to be a busy seven more weeks. That's right, in just seven weeks, I'll be on a plane to Kilimanjaro.

Looking Up

2011-04-20T14:20:00.003-04:00

Things are looking up. No, I still haven't been cleared to run, but I am ok with what's going on. Several friends have been super supportive (thanks a ton guys) and wished me well.

One major question I've gotten is what about the hike and IM. The answer is I don't know. I'm continuing to train (with the exception of running) like I'm doing both. I'm still going to Africa. I'm still going to Arizona. What happens beyond that I can't say. I haven't given up on either.

I also got this fantastic quote on my facebook wall. It's perfect. Thanks Christy.

"It isn't what you do that makes you an athlete. It isn't how fast or how far you go or how many personal bests you have. It's waking up every day knowing that you will take on whatever the world has for you that day as an athlete. You will embrace the challenges -- physical, emotional and spiritual -- because you know that as an athlete it's the challenge that makes you stronger."

-- John "the Penguin" Bingham

Yesterday I met up with a group for a workout to say goodbye to a good friend. Her stuff had already been packed up, so we all couldn't go for our usual bike ride. She and another decided to run and two others biked. I didn't feel like lugging my bike all the way out again, so I had the brilliant idea of getting out my rollerblades. I haven't been on them since probably 1996.

And you know what? IT WAS AWESOME! I just rolled along behind them and chatted away. I got a total workout of my hip flexors too. (Hip flexors are typically underworked in triathlon-a forward moving sport. Rollerblading makes me move side-to-side.) I thought for sure when I wasn't running that I'd be missing out on all the weekend Team stuff, but now, I'll just be rollerblading along. Evern better is that I can roll along with all kinds of people since now I can actually keep up.

Now, if I could just get my balance working again I'll be all set.

Do You Really Want to Know The Answer to That Question? Part 3

2011-04-19T15:47:00.002-04:00

See Part 1 and Part 2

Part 3: The Future

I’ve mentioned before that it’s weird to have my life so planned out. I’m used to flying by the seat of my pants and making decisions that simply made me happy. But when you do an Ironman, training dictates your life. I planned out my 2011 and part of 2012 based almost exclusively on completing Ironman Arizona on November 20, 2011. Because I’m a planner, here’s a detailed look.

Ironman Life Plan

IM is hard. I need my Team to do it. Stay in DC for the support while Mike moves to Hawaii.

Government job outlook is bleak for me there. Sit tight and wait for the perfect job.

I accepted a new position in DC and verbally committing to stay until Spring 2012.

The Kili hike was moved from Feb to August. While it’s a bit of an inconvenience to have it closer to IM, I was ok with it.

Registering for the Flying Pig Marathon.

We didn’t find any long-term housing for Mike in Hawaii since it would just be him for a while.

Me staying in DC meant that we didn’t have to rush to rent or sell our house here.

What Would Have Happened with No IM

Move to Hawaii.

I would have looked for a job in Hawaii months ago.

I would have stuck out the old job and bailed right about now so I could move to Hawaii.

I would have hiked in Feb so I could prep for a move to Hawaii.

Eh, probably would have done the Pig anyway.

Would have looked for a place to buy in Hawaii that would have suited both of us.

I would have had a busy winter prepping the house for rental and finding renters.

Now I’m just accepting of my fate. I’m optimistic that things will work out for me, they always do. EVERYTHING happens for a reason and if I’m not supposed to run, something else will come my way. The small circle of friends that I’ve told has been super supportive. I didn’t really think this was that big a deal, but it seems like they did. Maybe it’s because I can look back now with a degree of perspective I didn’t have on Friday afternoon.

I told one friend on Sunday who was super supportive. In fact, I told her that when I write my blog posts, I am sure to include some kind of positive outlook because she is quick to chime in and steer me back that way. There are three friends who do that regularly. It forces me to step back from the whining and look at what I have, what I’ve accomplished, and where I can go. So, here’s to you Holly, Cat and Christy. (Didn’t think I would call you out did you? :) )

I really am ok. The purpose of these posts were really to help me sort through what’s been going on and come up with a plan. I’m still annoyed, frustrated, and pissed off, but I’m ok. Really. I’ve accepted the fact that life will be a little different and I’m ready to embrace the change. I actually really like change. I totally cool with what happens to me after November 20, 2011. The part that I have to work on (and I have a plan) is getting from today to November 19, 2011.

More to come later I’m certain.

Do You Really Want to Know The Answer to That Question? Part 2

2011-04-19T15:31:00.003-04:00

If you're interested in how this starts, see Part 1.

Part 2: How This is Affecting Me

I was pissed on Friday, but I had a busy weekend with loads to do and no time to wallow in my own situation.

Saturday: Rumpass Mini Race Report
On Saturday morning at Rumpass, I had people asking me if I was excited for the hike, when is the marathon, are you training, isn’t it exciting? I just faked some generic answers and moved away quickly. I didn’t want to burst into tears again. I couldn’t open that can of worms just yet. Later, waiting for the swim start, I was bobbing around in cold water of Lake Anna with my hiking buddy Sally and friend Janet. Janet looks at both of us and screams, “This is the beginning of your EPIC year!” I almost cried again.

I’m glad I didn’t have time to think about not doing Rumpass. If I had, I would likely have canceled. As I swam through the choppy cold water, my mind drifted to the conversation with the doctor. Maybe I could do marathon swims (in warm water, ‘cause this wetsuit sucks!). Maybe I’ll start doing century bike rides. I could be the best aquabiker ever! Then I started thinking about bailing on the bike in T1. Racing Rumpass was only to prepare myself for IM. Why not just quit? Yeah, that would be much easier. Quit, get warm, hang in the tent.

I think this was about the time I turned buoy two and directly into the head-on wind, chop, and waves. I looked up and saw how far the land was. I couldn’t stop swimming, I just had to settle in and get it done. I couldn’t make it easier, I had to plod along. The shoreline was far, I kept going off course, waves slapping me in the face. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming? Just keep swimming! Hallelujah, hallelujah, angles singing, clouds parting, DUH, I CAN’T JUST QUIT WHEN THINGS GET HARD, I HAVE TO KEEP MOVING.

I got out of the swim, hustled into transition, and…paused. The doubts crept back in again. I held my towel around me and thought for a long time about quitting. I stared at a fellow teammate who probably thought I was nuts. I’d like to say there was some inspirational reason I finally moved, but reality is I looked at my new bike and wanted to ride it. It would be my first race on it and I wanted to see what I could do with it. So I did. I went two loops, pushing harder than ever since I didn’t have to worry about the run.

Sunday: Face of America Ride
My husband was a marshall for a ride to raise funds for and support Wounded Warriors. I went out to see the finish of their 100 mile bike ride from Washington, DC to Gettysburg, PA. There were nearly 400 riders, 80 of which were wounded in some way. Some had brain injuries, some were wearing prosthetic limbs, some had no legs at all. One guy rode by on a tandem bike with a pair of boots and a huge American flag strapped to the back seat. They were set up the way you see on TV when a fellow Soldier dies and his friends put his boots in the sand with his helmet and rifle. That one choked me up big time. I could imagine these two guys making plans to do this ride together when one of them doesn’t make it. His friend goes on anyway and does it in his honor.

Monday: Helping Friends
Monday night I get an email from a friend who needed some help. I won’t go into detail here, but suffice it to say she almost never asks for help and when she does, it must be pretty serious. I head over and do what I can. We talked a lot about her situation and mine. She looked at me and told me exactly what I needed to hear.

Cue the life lessons. Wow Tracey, you couldn’t have scripted a better weekend to put your own situation in perspective.

Lesson 1: Never quit. When you’re in the midst of chaos and the task seems impossible, just keep going.

Lesson 2: It’s never as bad as it seems. It could always be worse.

Lesson 3: Rely on your friends. They know parts of you you didn’t know you had.

Part 3

Do You Really Want to Know The Answer to That Question? Part 1

2011-04-19T15:22:00.007-04:00

This is part one of a three part post. Don't freak out until you read part 3. Also, if you don't have an hour and a half, wait until you do. This is really long.

Part I: The Doctor

What I’ve been thinking the last few weeks: “Will doing a marathon in May, hiking Kilimanjaro in August, and finishing an Ironman in November do permanent damage to my knees?”

Before I get to the answer…I am known for being a planner. I’m the one who figures out the logistics for trips, races, plans events, works through worst-case scenarios and makes a plan of action. I’ve been looked to as the one with the master plan for others to follow. I imagine every possibility and make a plan for each just in case. Is that a mountain in front of me? Yes? Well, I need to get through, so I’ll climb it, walk around it, tunnel through it, dig under it, fly over it, magically teleport around it, whatever it takes for me to get where I want to be.

I went to the Orthopedist on Friday. (The day before the Rumpass Oly.) I had quite a few referrals from the team, but I chose this one based on two recommendations and reading his bio. He’s a runner, specializes in treating triathletes, and is known for telling you yes when other doctors have said no. He understands the mindset of an athlete and our need to keep moving despite our pain. I felt like he would understand my goals for the year and get straight to the diagnosis rather than giving me the surprised look, the once over at my size, and then the doubt flash before the oh-sure-you’re-doing-those-things face. (It’s happened twice to me in the past few doctor visits.)

I talk with the doctor. I get some x-rays. I wait. He comes in and does some more poking and prodding going straight for the pain points. The x-rays show him exactly where to push.

Diagnosis: Arthritis. Mild bordering on moderate based on x-rays, moderate to severe if he were to actually go in and look. Several bone spurs growing too.

What to do: Stop running.

Enter the 5 stages of emotional response to bad news. (Totally made up, but I think it flows nicely.)

Stage 1: Numbness
WHAT? No running?! This coming from the guy who doesn’t say that stuff? It’s all a bit of a blur from here, but this is what I hear: No running. Not ever. No therapy, no fixing it, no pushing through the pain. Nothing. I have the knees of a 58-year-old-woman. Bad genes. No hiking. No running. You’ll be an awesome biker and swimmer. You can’t do much about it. No running. You’re done. Try aqua-jogging.

Stage 2: Incredulity (or Really?! SERIOUSLY?! Seriously.)
At this point I am in tears and the doctor has switched over to doctor-objectivity mode, all facts, no emotion and says “It’s a bad idea to run tomorrow. I would not recommend it.” I really, really cannot believe that I hadn’t thought this possibility through. I’m surprised that I’m taking it this hard. I never thought that someone would tell me that I couldn’t run. It never, ever, not once occurred to me that he would tell me I couldn’t run ever again.

Stage 3: Bargaining
Doctor: “You probably shouldn’t do the marathon either.”
Me: “How about I just do the half?”
Doctor: “Didn’t you say you barely made it 10 miles and had to walk the last 2 in significant pain on your last run?”
Me: “Uh…
Doctor:
Me: “What if I walk?”
Doctor: “Really not a good idea.”
Me: “What if I skip the marathon and just do the hike and IM?”
Doctor: “Marathons are a really, really bad idea.”
Me: “What if I totally ignore your advice and do whatever I want to do anyway?”
Doctor: “Plenty of people have…”
Me: a flash of a smile
Doctor: “…and have come back and said, you were right.”
Me: back to tears

Stage 4: Desperate Thinking
The mountain has been thrown in front of me and I’m racing to find a way past it. I’m trying to think of all the questions I can possibly ask. What if this, what if that, how about I, what if I don’t. Ok, time to focus. What is the plan? What do I do from here? How can I continue on my path? Is there a recovery? Should I do PT? Should I lift weights? What are the options? Surgery? Shots? Knee reconstruction? Rip the suckers out and give me new ones. The doctor was very patiently listening to all of my questions and quite honestly, I can’t remember most of the answers.

Stage 5: Logical Planning
Here begins the tough part. I’ve let it soak in the past few days and am slowly coming up with a plan.

Take the anti-inflammatories I was prescribed. I had fluid build-up in my knees from a run I did three weeks ago. That’s not good. (Fluid builds up as a natural response to trauma in the joints.)
Don't run the Rumpass Oly. (I didn't even walk it.)
No Flying Pig marathon. I’m pretty bummed about it, but it’s not my A race. I really wanted to do it only so I could feel what it would be like from 5pm to midnight on November 20, 2011.
I’m going to see the doctor in a month and reevaluate what to do. This time I will have a list of questions to ask and make sure I take notes on all the answers.
Take things one step at a time. (Easier said than done on crappy old-lady knees.) But aside from skipping the marathon, which I’m not prepared for anyway, I’m not making any decisions on other races.
Go to a magic physical therapist and see if she can make me better. (I already have one in mind.)
Get a second opinion and reevaluate my options.

Part 2

Race Season is Here

2011-04-14T12:48:00.004-04:00

Yes, that's right, the first triathlon of 2011 is here. In just two short days, I'll be standing on a lake shore dock wondering again why I do this. I feel ill-prepared for this race and this season in general. And that's not a good way to start out an Ironman year. Allow me to download this out of my brain, then I'll move into a more positive outlook. I didn't do as much this winter as I should have. I don't know why. Actually, yes, I do.

Reason #1: I was lazy. Pure and simple and no way around it.

Reason #2: I started a new job. A job that required me to change my commute around for a month, back to normal schedule for a month, then permanently to metroing to work. Nothing that is impossible to figure out, it just took a few weeks of logistics to work it out. The new job now makes it difficult to make it to morning track and boot camps and those are precisely the areas I most need to focus on. Changing my routine after four years, right as IM training begins is a recipe for missed workouts.

Reason #3: The hike. Planning fundraisers, updating the website, tracking donations, all take a lot of time.

Reason #4: My knees. More on that in a bit. I am more than frustrated about it though.

Reason #5: Some family stuff that took me out of my regular and supportive weekend team environment. I really, really need the team to accomplish my goals.

My knees are killing me. I've signed up for my very first marathon, the Flying Pig in Cincinnati on May 1. This is a huge part of the IM training for me. I've never done a marathon before and wanted to get one under my belt before IM so I would know what to expect from 5:00pm to midnight on November 20. I've been increasing mileage over the past few months and have gotten steadily worse pain every time I ran. First I would just ice after a really long run. Then ice and advil after. Then advil and ice after PLUS advil before the run. On March 26, I was aiming to run 16-18 miles. I had friends staged throughout the day to meet me and run alongside to keep me going. At 10 miles, I had to stop running and walk. Unfortunately, I was still 2 miles from the car and had to walk all the way back in some pretty significant pain.

I went to the doctor on March 29 to get a referral to an orthopedic consultation. I wanted to know if my marathon, plus the hike, followed by an IM would do long-term or permanent damage. If so, I wanted to evaluate my goals for the year and come up with a long term solution. Fast forward to today and I have yet to get my appointment with ortho because of the military healthcare system. I have lost two and half weeks of training. I finally made an appointment with my other insurance company and will get some good news (hopefully) tomorrow.

So where does that leave me now? Ill-prepared for the first race of the season. This will be a good slap in the face on what NOT to do for the next few months while I focus.

And now the positives. I've commuted into work on my bike a few times. It's a great way to start and end the day especially when the weather is nice. I figured out my regular commute so I can still swim in the morning. I've had to adjust (or rather will when the Dr. clears me) when I do my weekday runs, but I have a plan for that. I still have the weekend team events which keep me focused. But, there's one more positive.

Mike is transferring. It sounds harsh, but him leaving will help me focus. I started triathlon when he transferred overseas for 18 months and it kept me really, really busy. I went to almost every workout. I need to focus on me while I'm working through IM. Sure, it would be nice to have my husband home and I sure will miss him rubbing my feet, unloading the car, doing the laundry when I'm too exhausted to move. But, training for IM requires so much selfishness that it's easier to do it when there's not someone significant in your life, even if that person knows exactly what you're going through.

Now for the positives.

I'll be walking during the run portion of the triathlon in the pouring rain on Saturday. Training for the IM run which will inevitably be the IM walk.

I'll be walking the marathon. Again, a more accurate feel of the IM marathon.

I've realized I've been in a slump and I see how to get out of it.

Game on.

Why I'm Doing an Ironman

2010-10-24T17:48:00.003-04:00

People have been asking why I've decided to climb Kilimanjaro. The simple answer is because I can, and most seem accepting of that answer.

Outside of my triathlon world, people don't ask why I'm doing an Ironman. Maybe it's because they don't understand what it is. Maybe they don't even know what triathlon is. But if I had to give an answer, what would it be? What's the answer to a single friend who asks you how you knew when HE was the one? I don't know. I just knew. What's the definition of porn? I don't know, but I know it when I see it.

What I know about my Ironman 2011:

I have no doubt that I want to do an Ironman.
I am mentally prepared for the work.
It will be hard. Both the year leading up to it and the day of the event.
It's something I'm doing for me and no one else.

I've been doing some practice hikes lately in preparation for Kilimanjaro. Planning the hikes has involved looking a lot at elevation gain and loss. The more the better. If you're been reading any of my other posts you know that I hate hills, biking and running. If there were hills in the water, I would hate them too. But now, I've had a shift in my thinking. I'm seeking out the hills. My mind just knows to put one foot in front of the other and go. Just go. I've resigned myself to the heavy breathing, burning muscles, seemingly endless uphill. I will just go.

I've never been one of those who had a five-year plan. I never really had practical long-term goals. "But what do you want to DO?" My answer was always, "be happy." Simple. Easy. Basic. Difficult to measure. There is a clear sense of accomplishment in setting a singular goal and setting out to achieve it. There is a mountain. I will climb it. I will succeed.

It's hard not to compare my hike with an Ironman. Both are extreme physical tests. Both involve massive planning and training. Both are entirely dependent on my mental fortitude to push through discomfort, unease, pain, negative internal commentary, and self-doubt. Both will require the mental, physical, and financial support of my friends and family. Both, if successful, will propel me to a place I will be able to revel in for the rest of my life.

I imagine Ironman will be the same. On November 22, I will throw down my credit card and begin a one-year journey to becoming an Ironman. Why? There is a race. I will train for it. I will succeed. I will tell myself to put one foot in front of the other and just go.

New GPS (and Bike!)

2010-09-26T15:15:00.004-04:00

I got a new GPS, the Garmin Forerunner 310XT. I did my first training ride on the new bike and had all kinds of gadgets on the front: watch with heart rate, bike computer, and GPS. I haven't paired the GPS with the heart rate monitor yet, so at least one of those things will soon be going away. The unit comes with some cool online tracking info which I can embed into websites. As soon as I have some relevant data, I'll include it.

Really though, I should have led this post off with reports of the new bike. I rode it for 33 miles today and felt fairly comfortable. The start was a bit wobbly, but I think that's just getting used to the stiffness of the ride. About 10 minutes in and I didn't even notice it. I was F-L-Y-I-N-G down hills and on the flats. People even commented on it as I whizzed by. Politely though, they did not comment on my slow arse on the way back up the hills.

This bike has compact cranks, so I have two rings in front, unlike my road bike with three. I've lost my granny gear. I miss it. With all those hills at Savageman, I never once felt like my legs couldn't climb. Today, on much flatter terrain, I was pedaling with all my strength and still felt like I might have to get off and walk. This will take some getting used to.

Overall I think my body responded well to being in aero. My saddle felt fine for the first 25 miles. My upper back started to ache a bit toward the end and I found myself sitting up more. While climbing, I found it easier to be upright than down. Overall I'd grade the experience a solid B. I'll give it a few more rides and hopefully things will settle down.

Note to self: Do more planks and strengthen your traps. Damn core.

Savageman Race Report

2010-09-22T18:51:00.005-04:00

September 18, 2010

Pre-Race
The two previous years, my buddies Priscilla and my new hiking partner Sally and I relayed the Savageman Triathlon. Our team name was “Team Keep the Finish Line Up”. You can imagine how slow we thought we were. Last year at the end of the race, the biker of our relay, Priscilla, announced that she would not be enduring the pain of riding that bike course alone again. Instead of shuffling the relay around, we all signed up for the full event. I don’t know what we were thinking.

Swim
2008 43:49
2009 34:57
2010 33:49

Since I was always the swim leg, and I’m a comfortable swimmer, I wasn’t nervous. I was in the first wave and I think that’s the first time that’s happened. It was nice to have a relatively clear lane to swim in. In previous years the race started much earlier and we had been delayed by fog. This year we started at 9:30am and we had the sun to contend with. It was coming over the horizon exactly above the giant inflatable turtle we were supposed to sight and turn around. I never did see the turtle on the way out, so I just followed the mass of swimmers in my wave and hoped they were going the right way.

T1 5:16 HR 157
The path up and out of the water was true to the Savage fame and was uphill. My quads cramped a bit on the way up and I just walked up. The early morning weather was chilly, so I had quite a wardrobe laid out at my transition spot. I put on my short sleeve shirt, tossed my arm warmers into my back pocket, jumped on my bike and out to the bike course.

Bike 1:58.49 HR 159 Pace 11.6 mph
Hills. That’s all there is to it. This course has hills. And rollers. And mountains. And they’re relentless. We drove the course the night before so we would have an idea of what to expect, but again, I underestimated the difficulty. The first two miles out of the park were some easy rollers to get warmed up. I stopped at the end of the road (first time I’ve stopped in a race) to adjust my socks. I knew I would be putting some pressure on my feet to climb and needed to make sure everything was perfect. I also took off my watch and put it on my handlebars so I could see my heart race while climbing. I need to figure out a better way to make that transition.

The climbing at the beginning was tough, but doable. I just kept pushing. Around mile 8, the first of three beasts appeared. I didn’t remember seeing this one on the pre-race ride, but did see it on the course map. I just plowed up it. One down, two to go.

During a quick decent down the backside of the hill, I topped my speed out at 48.5 mph. If I was in a car, I would have gotten a speeding ticket. It was exhilarating to go that fast. I had absolutely no fear and just went for it. I even screamed in joy at the bottom to the volunteers and whooped at some of the other riders as I passed them on the way up. Free speed is da bomb!

At mile 14, the second monster loomed in front of me. I definitely knew this one was coming and quickly shifted into an easier gear. 11% grade for a half mile. I’ve never known what grade a mountain was before and for you other who don’t either, 11% is hard. Really hard. The team Z crew was lined along the hill cheering everyone up Tour de France style.

I just kept pushing my feet around and around. I saw my speedometer at 2.4 mph. If I was in a car, I would have been stopped. Here’s my running thought dialog: Push, push, push. Even if you want to stop, you can’t. Push, push, push. There’s no time to unclip and catch yourself before the bike stops. Push, push, push. Just a few feet at a time. Push, push, push. I can hear the screaming, the cow bells, the vuvuzelas. Push, push, push. My lungs are pounding, sucking air. My heart is racing and topping out at 182 bpm. (My resting heart rate is around 70.) Push, push, push…and I realize that my legs feel fine. I can keep doing this. My legs are FINE! PUSH HARDER. Push, push, push. And then the top goes by and I raise my arm for more cheering from the crowd. I did it. I made it, though I never did think that I wouldn’t. A big revelation for me though: my legs were fine. My muscles were able to move me over that mountain. I had a new found confidence in my ability to ride this course.

Just two miles later and the last climb is in front of me. 5% grade for .6 mile. Yes, yes, you’re thinking, this is easier. The last one was two times harder in fact. What’s the big deal? Well, non-riding friends, I’ll tell you, riding up 5% is no easy feat when you’ve just ridden up 11%, swam for 33 minutes, ridden for over an hour and a half up and down hills, and knowing that you’re only two-thirds done with your day. Plus, there’s no cheer squad on this hill. This one is all me.

I started my push, push, push, again. Just keep going. Push, push, push. Mid-way up a guy comes out of his driveway wearing a football helmet with antlers four feet across attached to them. It was a bit of a distraction to say the least. Push, push, push. After this you’re home free. Push, push, push. There’s the summit, you made it! A few other bikers were nearby and we all cheered together that the worst was behind us.

A few more rollers and then I’d be back on the two mile stretch back into the park. And here’s where I underestimated the course again. Those two miles were hard. I’m used to being passed on the bike course. It happens all the time [race report ?]. These last two miles though were on the run course. There was a ton of runners already out there. I didn’t think that many people passed me. It’s a bit demoralizing. I kept thinking that I still have an hour and a half in front of me still. This race though, the thought of running 90 minutes wasn’t that bad. Sure, it sucked knowing that, but I wasn’t demoralized.

T2 3:55
Nothing exciting here. I reracked my bike, stopped by the porta pottie and was off for the run. Truly a surprising feeling for me was that I was looking forward to the run. I’ve done quite a few 5Ks this year and I knew what to expect. I’m still hoping for a tri run time which beats my regular run time.

Run
Total 1:41:31 Pace 16:21

Mile 1 15:10 HR 158
Mile 1 was pretty easy. A quick path through the woods and on the road past the race director’s house. We’d been by there the night before so I knew what to expect.

Mile 2 17:03 HR 154
Mile 2 was tougher. I didn’t realize where it went and up we went into the state park campground. Up, up and more up. The trail twisted and turned and at every turn was more uphill. I just kept thinking that at some point I get to go back down. Sure enough, we go down.

Mile 3 16:05 HR 153
Mile 4 15:49 HR 157
Mile 3-4 were good and relatively flat.

Mile 5 19:16 HR 151
Mile 5 was the fire tower. Straight up a mountain for a quarter mile. Not easy. I kept reminding myself that I would be hiking up Kilimanjaro in a few months and this would be my life for those 6 days. My heart rate stayed steady in zone 3 even though I wasn’t running. I made it to the top and met a group of guys, one of which was dressed in a full superman costume. We joked a bit and I ran back down. I was hoping for a faster time down than up, but I knew my quads would be toast if I did that.

Mile 6 15:23 HR 159
Mile .2 2:43 HR 165
I spent the last 1.2 miles looking for my teammates and the time flew by. I kicked up my pace a little too soon but managed to push hard to the finish line.

Final Time: 4:23:18
Average HR 158
Peak HR 182
Calories 5303

2010 Team 'Keep the Finish Line Up'

Lessons Learned
1. I’ve realized that this year has been the mental training year. I’ve gotten pretty good at looking at my situation objectively and identifying what I’m feeling and then coming up with a plan to deal with it.
2. Figure out the watch thing. Should I switch to the GPS unit that can move between my wrist and pop onto a unit on the bike? I think that it would be helpful for IM training.
3. Respect the course. No more words needed for this lesson again. When will I learn?
4. My legs are good, my heart needs work. I was able to push over those mountains with plenty of muscle strength. Winter focus this year should be more aerobic training.

Going to Africa, Climbing a Mountain, Being on TV

2010-09-01T05:50:00.004-04:00

In February 2011, I will trade my cycling shoes for hiking boots and climb 19,340 feet to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. But before I reach the mountain, I will be in a race to raise $19,340 for the Global Alliance for Africa (GAA). The money will directly benefit children orphaned by HIV/AIDS.

Back when I was in Alaska, my friend Sally sent me an email detailing the trip and asking if I would want to join her. She said I could think it over for a few days and get back with her. I did not think it over AT ALL and responded to her message immediately with YES!

We had a conference call with our trip leader Kara Whitely and discussed the requirements, training schedule, and other trip details. Turns out that my standard weekly triathlon workouts are exactly what she suggests we do to get ready; I'm just replacing some of my weekend runs with hikes.

Sally and I won’t be alone on this journey. We are excited to be joining Kara Whitely on her Celebrity Kili Trek-a journey that will be filmed for a television series featuring Muhammad Ali's daughter Khaliah Ali, former Biggest Losers Heba Salama and Ed Brantley and others-all taking on the challenge of Kilimanjaro to get in shape and raise money for charity.

The Global Alliance for Africa is a Chicago-based 501c3 (Tax Exempt ID E-9940-2068-02) which designs and implements innovative programs to help impoverished African communities build stronger economies. The Global Alliance for Africa partners with African NGO’s, religious institutions, and community organizations to provide sustainable care for orphans and other children affected by HIV/AIDS. The ultimate goal is to help these communities become self-reliant and able to provide vulnerable children with shelter, education, medical care, food, and other necessities.

To reach our fundraising goal of $19,340 by December 1, World AIDS Day, we need your help. Keep in mind that we are paying our trip costs, so every dollar you contribute goes directly to GAA.

Here's how your donation can help:

$400 funds an urban water program
$375 buys a water pump for an agricultural initiative
$150 funds a youth's educational fees for one year
$130 buys a bookcase for a library
$100 funds vocational training for an adolescent for one year
$50 buys a reading table for a library
$35 buys a goat

Raising $19,340 by December 1 will be a sprint to the finish, no doubt. But we know that with your help, we will win this race and help create a better future for Africa’s 18 million AIDS orphans.

As someone once said, “The race advances only by the extra achievements of the individual. You are the individual.”

Thank you for your support!

Tracey

Big Changes Are A Comin'

2010-08-21T18:40:00.005-04:00

I've had two big things come up in the last week. The first, and maybe the biggest thing to happen in my life, will be announced on September 1. Consider this your fair warning and a little teasing and foreshadowing on my part. Sorry for the suspense, but it will be worth it. Trust me. And no, I'm not pregnant.

The second, which most have already heard, is buying my new bike.

I went through a couple of shops trying out different bikes. Turns out I have disproportionately longer legs (thanks Mom) than arms and torso (thanks Popps). This makes fitting out on a tri bike difficult. I sat on some pretty pricey rides, felt comfortable, then got the opinion of the professional fitter who said it was not a good fit AT ALL. I gave up for a few months, then finally stopped by another shop near my office. Their sister store had the bike I was checking out in my size.

I stopped by Revolution Cycles in Georgetown on Friday to see what I might find. Katie the store's general manager was expecting me. She got out the new bike and I caught my breath. This new bike is black with white trim and some sweet lime accents. They're my team colors, and are bad ass.
My current bike is a Specialized which has served me well for the past four triathlon seasons and my only complaint has been the color scheme-white with purple accents. Difficult to keep clean, and if you nothing of me, you know I am not a girly-girl.

I. Wanted. That. Bike.

Before I go any further, I have to say that Katie may be my new bike store BFF. She was so helpful, took lots of time to answer my questions, took even longer to get me situated on the bike, and was friendly and funny the whole time. Really, really, great. She took about 45 minutes to get me settled on the bike before I even left the store. Adjusting aero bars, raising seat, switching saddles, adding on my pedals. This shop should write the book on bike shopping. Off I go down the trail.

I'm back 30 minutes later handing over my credit card. This bike is a sweet, sweet ride. Before I left, Katie took another hour or so making some minor adjustments so I could ride it comfortably before my final, comprehensive fit in two weeks. Updates coming as I take it out and get used to the new positioning.

TyRANnosaurus 5k August 10, 2010

2010-08-18T21:41:00.002-04:00

What an opportunity! A quick, last-minute trip for work, and another 5k in the books, this time in Alaska. It’s state number eight in my quest to do a race in all 50. This race timed out perfectly for my work trip on a random Tuesday night. I was only in Alaska for four days and spent the first three antsy to get out and enjoy nature.

I finished up my work commitment and a good friend living in Alaska picked me up. We went as quickly as we could to the race site, Kincaid Park, but encountered traffic through downtown Anchorage. It’s nothing compared to DC traffic, but frustrating when you’re trying to get somewhere on time.

We made it to the park about 5 minutes late and by the time we were at the start line, it was 10 after. I quickly checked in and got my bib. This was a really low key race. No timing chips and minimal staff. I asked about the start and they told me to start whenever. I found the course markings for the 5k, a cartoon tyrannosaurus wearing running shoes. The 10k markings were a dinosaur that looked like the t rex from Jurassic Park.

I ran off into the forest and heard my friend and her two kids cheering me on from afar. I quickly passed a few walkers, some strollers, and some little kids. I ended up alone on the trail and quickly jumped out of zone 2 and was holding steady in zone 3/4. The race was in a dense forest park on the edge of downtown Anchorage and the trail was as wide as a road with a single narrow dirt worn path on the side. After a few slips, I quickly learned that the dirt path was super slick and I would have to run in the taller grass. My feet were immediately soaked. The weather was much, much cooler than DC, about 55 degrees and it drizzled the whole way. I was chilled wearing shorts, t-shirt and my waterproof rain jacket for cycling.

Everything around me was green, the canopy of trees, the ground, the grass, the moss. I could almost see the carbon dioxide being converted to oxygen before my eyes. It felt good to breathe in the fresh, crisp air. The ground was uneven, so was finding myself looking down to make sure I wouldn’t trip and having to make conscience efforts to lift my head and enjoy the scenery.

When I run, I purposely avoid looking at my watch so I won’t think about time. I’d rather be more in tune with what my body feels like. On a particularly steep hill, I mistakenly looked and I was only 18 minutes into the run. At a 15 minute mile pace, I was only 1.2 miles in. Ugh. I was hoping it would have been closer to 30 minutes and 2 miles. I was reconsidering my zone 4 strategy and pressed on.

You’ll know from my previous athletic endeavors that I have this stream of consciousness flow of thoughts as I swim, cycle and run. Unfortunately they’re not usually about the race, my form or being productive in my movements. This race was no different. Here’s a quick peek: Conversations from earlier in the day with my coworkers about local bears floated through my head. Black bear = run, brown bear = play dead, or was it brown bear = loud shouting and black bear = play dead. And what was that about grizzlies again? Crap, I can’t remember. I think it’s grizzly bear = well, you’re just toast if you see a grizzly. I wore my Road ID for safety, but I never thought it would be because I could be mauled by a bear. [This website would have been nice to know about before the run.]

I was pulled from my reverie by an oncoming mountain biker approaching and shouting a warning of some moose ahead. WHAT?! Moose?! Really?! I was planning my escape from bears and now I have to worry about moose too? What do I do if I see a moose? Which way should I run? Should I try for a PR running away from the moose toward the finish line or should I scream and run back the way I came? Should I stand still and wait for the moose to leave? Aggh. What to do? So now the stream turns to: bear, run, play dead, moose, loud noises, mauling, grizzlies, hospitals, bears, run faster, rain, damn-that was a big puddle, moose, bear, what was that noise?, bear, run, race, where’s the sign, do I turn there, bear, moose.... My feet kept pounding away on the wet grass and I kept going with an eagle eye on every little movement in the woods. [This would have been helpful too.]

I never did see the moose or any bears, but I did pick up the pace a bit. I saw a sign for a scenic overlook so I stopped to admire to view. It was only a few seconds, but, really, when would I be here again to admire the Alaskan wilderness? (I did stop my watch during my viewing for about a minute or so.)

Off running again (restarting the watch of course) and out of the woods onto the side of some soccer fields, knowing the finish line was near. I checked my watch again and was at 38 minutes. (And now I realize my pace is fast, and earlier when I peeked at 18 minutes in, I was really at 1.7ish miles, not 1.2.) My goal was to PR, hopefully under 40 minutes. I picked up my pace again and pushed hard for the finish line. I heard my personal cheer squad off in the distance and crossed the finish line. Final time: 40:43.

I was soaked. My friend was there with a camera to catch the finish line crossing. My timer announced my time as something along the lines of 51minutes. I tried to explain I started late, but gave up. I’m happy with my time and glad I pushed harder to see what I was capable of doing. I’m sure the weather contributed to the good time. I’ve been acclimated to 90 degrees with 90% humidity all summer, so this was a welcome respite and my body responded positively.

I left the race with a cool t-rex tshirt, soaked shoes, wet hair, a few pics from the finish line, and another state crossed off the list.

Lessons Learned:

Weather is a huge player in my performance.
I can sustain intermittent zone 4 for 40 minutes. I walked up the hills and bombed down them, so it was a bit of interval training with a few zone 4 flats in the middle.
Running from potential bears and moose can be a good motivator and a good mental distraction while suffering.
If I run faster, I have to run longer to get in the mileage. It’s not a complex idea, but one that I’m not sure I’m happy about as I improve my running. A three mile run used to be a good solid workout. Now I’ll have to go four miles for that.
Is there a way to spend the summer training in DC and racing in cooler climates? I’ll have to explore that option for next summer.

Final Stats:

Time: 40:43 (13:06 minute miles. I’m usually at 15 minute miles. Wahoo!)
Avg HR 166 (zone 2 is normally high 150s)
Peak HR 184
Calories 895
Recovery 27 seconds

Culpeper Race Report

2010-08-18T21:18:00.008-04:00

I raced Culpeper as my first team race back in 2007. I can remember feeling a little out of place at the team tent. I didn’t have the team z colors yet, so I was a bit of an outsider getting my stuff ready before the race. I tried to use an inconspicuous corner of the tent and stay out of everyone’s way. My brother came and I bought him a support crew t-shirt so he wouldn’t get thrown out while I was racing.

I made many mistakes in that 2007 race. I wore a longer length sports bra for the swim and put my running shirt on over it in T1. Number 1 Rookie Mistake: don’t wear it during a race if you haven’t practiced in it. Getting out of the water, I felt a bit of, hmmm, shall we say, breeze, in an area that is not usually exposed to daylight. Turns out my uber-comfortable, stretchy, soft, not-at-all resilient, sports bra was even more stretchy, soft and not-at-all resilient when subjected to water. Here is a NOT-AT-ALL flattering photo of me coming out of the swim.

I'll attribute my swim time to the extra "scooping" motion my top allowed.

Which leads us to the 2007 race T1. There are not a lot of words necessary for this evolution. The video speaks for itself. I would like to add the extreme embarassment I feel posting this stuff. I would like to delete forever, but in the interest of serving my fellow newbie and back-of-the-pack triathletes, I submit for your viewing hilarity, Tracey at her finest:

And here I am getting on my bike. Again, here's how to make your transition times super, super slow:

And this is what I look like coming back from the bike. Just out for a little stroll.

And special thanks to my brother for the fine cinematography.

So, here we are three years later. I should be more practiced, more confident, faster, and I am.

A quick look at the numbers:

	2007	2010	Difference
Swim	19:54	16:01	- 3:53
T1	3:01	3:34	+ 0:33
Bike	1:13	1:11.07	- 1:53
T2	2:23	3:16	+ 0:53
Run	44:54	42:59	- 1:53
Total	2:23	2:17.01	- 5:59

Improving six minutes in a sprint triathlon is significant. If I had kept the same transition times I would have been closer to 8 minutes improved. I’ve been worried about my bike. Clearly I should be working on the transitions.

Swim.

I didn’t really come up with a race plan other than to improve over 2007. I concentrated on long strokes and staying relaxed. I guess I got into a groove and snapped out of it to the realization that I was taking long, relaxing strokes and moving at a pretty rapid pace. (I tried to replicate this in swim practice after the race and just as I was in a groove, there’s the wall.) I need to remember that feeling and keep doing that in future races. It felt good and it was a good rhythm.

Clearly I’m not in a hurry here. I must be having a burger, chatting on the phone and checking my horoscope while in transition. I need to work on that. This time around luckily though, I did not get my shirt stuck on my head.

Bike

I think the course was the reverse of 2007. I should have driven it the day before, but I didn’t. In 2007 we did a ride on the course the weekend before the race. I knew back then, that if I could make it the first 8 miles, that the last 8 were pretty easy. I was hoping that was the case this year too. I was wrong. I don’t remember this many hills from the last time. I’m not sure what happened. Maybe they changed the route. Maybe I was just not prepared. Maybe I’m just an idiot and should have driven the course. I’m not happy with only a two minute improvement.

Nothing really significant here. Maybe I stretched a bit more than last time, but I didn’t have the calf cramping going up the hill like 2007. I may have checked Mike’s horoscope this time around.

Run

I’m torn on whether or not I like this run course. The team tents were set up on this embankment thing as we exited the transition area. You can see about a quarter mile ahead to a big hill further down the road. Because it’s an out and back, you have to run right back by on the way to the finish line. I don’t really like knowing what’s ahead. Call it ill-preparedness, but I’ll call it staying in the moment. The run course was similar to a lop-sided F shape. A single road up the left side of the F with two little out and back loops, then back down the spine. I had plenty of opportunity to see who was behind me and how far I had to push myself.

Again, my goal was only to do better than 2007. I ran down the hills and all the flats. I only walked on the super steep hills and the water stations. I hadn’t planned to, but I did some mental practice as well. As soon as I started to feel pain or discomfort, I would talk to it. There was a running conversation between my head and the pain. They were talking to each other.

Pain: Twinge in the hip.
Head: “Is that all you got?”
Pain: Twinge again.
Head: “Seriously, that’s it? Go away.”
Pain: Disappears

Pain: Pounding lungs.
Head: “Ok, a little tougher, but I can handle this. Give me more.”
Pain: Throbbing lungs.
Head: “Oooh tough guy, c’mon, wanna fight?”
Pain: Burning lungs.
Head: “I’ve felt this before. I GOT you.”
Pain: Disappears.

Pain: Plays hard ball, pulls out the big guns, and goes for a side stitch.
Head: “Good one. Side stitch. OOOOH, that hurts.”
Pain: TRIUMPH!
Head: “NO WAY. YOU ARE NOT BEATING ME!”
Pain: Twist again.
Head: “I am almost there. High cadence. Even breathing. Stay strong. I can see the finish waaay off in the distance. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. Don’t stop. No walking. Pick up the pace. I LOVE zone 5!”
Pain:
Head: “FINISH!”

Lessons Learned:

I’ve done it before, and it shouldn’t have happened again, but I underestimated the bike course. I should have driven it before the race. A two minute improvement isn’t significant enough for me. I know there are loads of factors at play here, but I need more time improvements. I’m working on that.
The swim felt really, really good. Instead of seeing the course and thinking of how FAR that it, I should remember that I can go that far, in a groove, and not be interrupted by a stupid wall. I can get a rhythm and really excel.
Mental preparation is key. That conversation was an eye-opener for me. It sounds schizophrenic, but my head was able to beat the pain. I identified what the problem was, examined it for what it was, and dismissed it. I didn’t let the pain control my race, I controlled the pain.

Bike Challenges

2010-07-14T20:26:00.004-04:00

I'm having a bit of a debate right now with my bike performance. My speed for the Musselman Half Aquabike (race report soon) was nearly identical to my speed for Bassman. I know the elevation changes for m-man were more than for b-man, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I was the absolute slowest rider last Sunday. Literally.

Here are three reasons why I'm so annoyed:
1. I'm down 15 pounds from b-man. Should be a 15% increase in speed.
2. I did winter spinning between b-man and m-man pretty regularly. Something I haven't done before.
3. I was diligent about keeping my HR in zone 3 and my cadence at 90 for as much of the ride as I could. (I didn't need to run 13 mi so I could push a bit harder on the bike.)

At 4.5 hours to complete 56 miles, it would take me at least 9 hours to complete 112. For IMAZ, my super, waaaay too early to be thinking about it, so far before preliminary it's like I went back in time, time guesses go something like this: 2:00 swim, 9:00 bike, 30 min for transitions, leaves me at 11:30 heading into the marathon. With a 17 hour time limit, I'll have 5:30 to complete 26.2 miles. That's 12:30 minute miles. I'm currently doing about 15 minute miles.

Back to the drawing board. I can improve the swim to 1:45, keep the run at 15 minute miles for a 6:30 marathon, keep transitions at 30 minutes, leaving me with 8:15 for the bike. My b-man speed was 12.7 mph, m-man was 12.8 mph. I'll have to improve my bike speed to 13.5 mph. That would be worst case scenario times. To have another 15 minutes to spare, I should be at 14 mph. That's an increase of speed of 8.6%.

So, where does that leave me? What do I do? How much do I want to invest in this sport?

I play fall and spring softball, have for nearly my whole life, and I keep comparing my time and monetary commitment to softball versus triathlon. I've never gotten a specialized coach for batting. I've never invested $3000 in a glove. I've never gone away for a training softball weekend. Yet, I've done all of these things or am considering these for triathlon. Why the difference? I haven't figured it out yet.

Here are my questions for you:
1. Is an 8.6% increase in bike speed achievable in 15 months?
2. Should I hire a bike coach for some basic one-on-one coaching? Maybe he can help me find the right bike too.

PS-If my math is off anywhere, let me know. I'm really no good at it.

Can You Be Fat And Fit? More Health Experts Say Yes : NPR

2010-07-05T09:49:00.000-04:00

Wahoo! Good news for me. But then, I think most of us already knew this.
Can You Be Fat And Fit? More Health Experts Say Yes : NPR

Homemade Nutrition Bars

2010-07-05T09:28:00.000-04:00

I like the recipe for the fruit bites. I've been wondering how to make my own nutrition bars. This looks like a good start.
Everyday Gourmet: Car Food

P.S. Experimental Stuff

2010-07-01T22:50:00.002-04:00

I've been researching a lot of different media, shared marketing, social updating, etc, and will be testing out some stuff on the blog. If you see something you especially like, let me know. Alternatively, if something really annoys you, tell me! Thanks for the patience while I play with everything.

Ironman!

2010-07-01T22:20:00.004-04:00

For this title, I removed the ? at the end of the word Ironman because I've been telling people that I'm going to sign up for IMAZ. That makes it pretty real for me. I'm IN. I'M DOING AN IRONMAN! Where will you be in November 2011? Tempe, Arizona?

I'm still uncertain about B2B for the end of the year, but I'm leaning toward doing a bike relay for the full. I would switch to the 140.6 training track for the bike only after next week's race at Mussleman. I'm feeling confident on the bike and with a few months of training, I think I'll be ok.

I did run some preliminary plans through one of the track coaches and he didn't seem to think I'd be in trouble if I took off some time in Nov/Dec or Dec/Jan. Plus, some really good friends have confidence in my ability, and I trust their judgment. (Thanks Holly and Cat.)

I know that Ironman will be a really difficult journey. I know that it's a very individual event. I know that only I can do this. I also know that my friends will a big part of giving me the confidence I need to succeed. They'll be the ones helping me get out of bed in the morning, keeping me motivated, pushing me to train harder. So, thanks in advance guys. You're the best!

Ironman!?

2010-06-20T19:01:00.003-04:00

I'm considering Ironman 2011. The team decided on a flat race and now we're in the throes of voting for which race: Arizona, Cozumel, Florida. They're all in November.

Here's the thought process leading me for the past few days:

1. How do I end the 2010 Season?

Do I race Beach to Battleship Half in November? If I do IM Nov 2011, then my training begins Nov 2010. I know it’s not exact, but for me, mentally, I’ll need all 12 months to prepare. I’ve been on the team long enough to know that I need about 2 months off between seasons or I get cranky and unmotivated. I need the mental break from having to be at workouts versus wanting to be at workouts. If I do an IM, I’ll have to be at the workouts starting in Nov 2010.

Training for the B2B Half throughout the second half of summer would be hard because I know I’ll be training from Feb 2010 though Nov 2011. I also have to think about Mike's workouts as the summer closes someone will have to do the laundry, mow the lawn, and I can't really ask Mike to do that after riding 100 miles and running 20. I'll have nearly two years straight without a break. (blah blah blah...I'll be stronger whatever.) That’s a tough pill for me to swallow. Also, Bassman was tough to prepare for because it was so late in the season and it was a whole month earlier than B2B. On the flip side, it would be nice to knock out another half, on a flat course, to include a run before the flat IM.

Decision: No freaking clue. And this is the decision I have to make in the next few days. Maybe I need to talk with our coach.

2. Do I Sign Up? Whew, I Don't Know.

Mental-- During and following Bassman, I was not having fun with long distance. I realize a lot of it was due to the run training-or lack of it. I also had my mental breakdown, which I have been working on a lot this season and I feel like I can handle stuff like that again. I also have been running a lot and feel like with another year of training, I’ll be fine for a marathon. That is my big unknown though.

Moving—Mike is scheduled to transfer in July 2011. He’s still hoping for Hawaii, but there are some other factors in play as well. If he goes, I have no problem staying here at least until IM is over. We’ve done it before.

School--I’ve been considering grad school. If I sign up, I don’t think I could do school and IM at the same time. I would explode. But if Mike wasn’t here, it would be easier. I jokingly asked Mike what he thought if when he was in Hawaii, if I quit my full-time job and trained for tris and went to school. He laughed, but it could be a possibility.

Decision: I voted on the team poll for Ironman. (ackkk!)

3. Location?

Cozumel--I reread a teammate's race report. While I think the location can be scenic and a vacation after sounds great, I would like my first IM experience to be flawless logistically. As an event planner I scrutinize every event I go to. I don’t want to focus on potential infrastructure issues while preparing to race. Even if they get it together, for me, it will still be a gamble. This will be hard enough for me if everything on the course is perfect.

Florida--I looked at the course maps again. This would be easy to get to driving, but I don’t like the one loop bike. It’s pretty desolate out there and going for a 30 mile stretch without a turn would be demoralizing for me.

Arizona--seems like a similar course/elevation as Florida, but has three loops for the bike and three for the run. When I think of 112 miles as 3 loops of 37 miles, it seems much more conquerable. Plus, since it’s an out and back, each of those is only 18 miles. I’ll need the cheering every time I pass by. The run is like a figure-8, so we do three 8-mile loops and each of those is split so it’s like a 4-mile loop. It can be boring, but when I say those distances like that, I can do it. Plus, my family is close in California and if Mike is in Hawaii, coming to Arizona would be much easier than Florida.

Decision: Arizona

So, that's been my all consuming thoughts for the last week. Voting on the team poll really means making a commitment to racing. I haven't even signed up and I'm pretty pumped about it. This is going to be a very, very busy year.

Winter Training

2010-01-02T15:31:00.002-05:00

Here's an excerpt from a message I sent to some friends earlier today. I figured it was appropriate for here.

This will be a good tri season. I feel like I'm preparing a lot more than I have in the past- and dare I say it?-enjoying the running workouts. I was planning on going about an hour today (usually about 4 miles for me) and a teammate asked me if I wanted to go to 6 miles. I said sure, no problem. And when have I EVER wanted to run more than I absolutely had to?

You know how people say this is a lifestyle choice? I never really believed it or agreed with it. But now, I suppose I do live a tri lifestyle. Getting up at 4:30am to swim or running in 15 degree wind chill is certainly a lifestyle. This will be my fourth season of racing tris. My first season I was just existing, sort of along for the ride. The second season was a little mellow and I wasn't too serious about training. Last season I was just scared about Bassman Half. I think this season will be different from all the rest. I think I'll actually do some training and be smart about it. I'm still considering the Mussleman Half (July 2010) and think that I will be preparing for it instead of just getting dragged along in fear.

Here's to me and a successful, smart, and fun 2010 tri season.

Bassman Half Iron October 4, 2009

2009-10-06T21:53:00.001-04:00

Background

I wasn’t sure about doing a half distance race. It was only because this course was flat that I signed up. I was really worried about time cut offs and emailed the race director twice with no response. I came up with a time plan to make an 8 hour cut off.

As the race got closer, I realized there was a distinct possibility of not finishing. It boiled down to two choices: 1-definitely finish an aqua bike or 2-attempt and possibly fail a full half. In the end, I stuck with the whole race and decided to power through it. Why give up a whole season’s worth of training and not even attempt a full half?

My nervousness grew as the race approached. Everyone’s comments were positive about my attempt, but what else can you say? “Oh, yeah, that will be hard, I don’t think you can do it.” I decided to make a soundtrack for the race and give the CD out to my little training group. Picking and arranging the songs really helped to channel my nervousness into something productive.

Race Morning
I’m up early ready to head to the site. I set up transition as usual and joke around with some Zers. I forgot my bike shoes in the car, so I had to find my Mom for the keys and go back to get them. Luckily parking was close and they didn’t close transition, so I was able to put them in their designated spot on my green towel.

Pre Race

I got wetsuitted up and headed to the water with my buddies for some warm up. I know it takes me about 30 minutes to feel totally comfortable warmed up and ready to swim well. I didn’t want my entire swim to be warm up, so I did a few strokes and joked around with everyone. The camaraderie of the team really breaks the tension of pre-race jitters. The sprint race started an hour late, so everyone was wondering if the half would start late also. It did. Mostly because the race director thought he had to give the pre-race talk from the day before again; going into excruciating detail about the bike course. I don’t typically carry a note pad and pencil with me in my wetsuit, so I didn’t pay close attention. 40 minutes later and we were heading down to the water. After a few last minute cheers from the other women, we were off.

Swim

Lap 1: 25:38

Lap 2: 28:29

I started in the middle of the pack, not really planned, but usually how I end up. I passed a few people on the way to the first buoy and managed to stroke a few times next to Jacquie Meriwether. I really wanted to stop and chat and hang out and ask her how she was doing, but I don’t think she saw me. I did think of her amazing accomplishment though and was incredibly proud that she was swimming so well. It wouldn’t be the last time she would show up on the course next to me. Jenn Ball and I kept the same stroke pace for the whole first loop. It was comforting knowing that there was a familiar face near me if only to keep me mentally distracted from the distance. Each time I looked out, I wondered where she was.

I walked once or twice just for a change of pace (and because I could.) A couple of times I wondered why I was doing this and quickly changed my thought process. I knew negativity had no place in this race. As I started the second loop I kept breathing to my left trying to see my Mom on the shore. I started thinking about the bike and how it would be an ok distance after some of our 70 mile rides. I felt strong through the end of the second lap and got out of the water feeling good about the bike.

5:44

It went well. Nothing exciting, I felt good and didn’t dawdle. I did forget my hairband, so I knew any pictures of me would have funky hair flying all over the place. How I look should not be an issue (everyone has seen me in spandex) but thinking of the pictures to come of completing my first half, I wanted to be able to show them off without everyone saying, great…but what’s up with the hair?

Bike

Loop 1: 2:04:10

Loop 2a: 1:37:03

Flat Repair: 18.20

Loop 2b: 30:18

The first loop went ok. I was hoping to maintain a 16.5 mph pace. I realized early on that would not happen. While the course was flat compared to any ride we’ve done in Virginia, there were little inclines; enough that they compromised my speed.

I added bottle cages to my seat a week before the race because I needed four bottles for the ride and didn’t want Heed or Accelerade from the bottle exchange. BUT, new bottle cage = no saddle bag. I’ve been accused of keeping a big mac in my bag, so you can imagine the loss of storage I incurred upon removal. I also went TWO YEARS with no flats and in the last two months have had about five, four of which included a new tube and tire. I knew that if I was going to DNF it had to be over something really, really big. I wasn’t going to stop for a silly flat. So before the race I had to figure out how to carry a tire and tube, plus extra nutrition, all without the extra bag. I decided to cram the tire between the cages (good) and the tube kind of squished in between (not good). The tube unwedged itself midway through the first loop and when I saw Maggie towards the end of the lollipop she told me I had a problem. One end of the tube was on the bottle cage; the other end had fallen down and wedged itself onto the left side of my rear wheel. I’m shocked I didn’t cause any damage. (Flying over my handlebars because my tube twisted around my spokes would have been a worthy DNF for me, and a funny story later. I mean, Lindsey falls for no reason, at least I did something incredibly stupid.)

So, I stop to put my tube in my shirt, next to the combos (YUMMY!) and some shot blocks. I was running out of space back there. Janet passed me during my break and we rode together. Then she took off telling me that she had to get into zone two. What?! I was struggling to stay in zone two.

I came in for the start of the second loop. The whole first time around I knew that I would be seeing the scenery again. I made mental notes along the way so I would know how far apart things were. If I break up my distances, it seems much more accomplishable. I had had to pee for a while now and was scoping areas to do that. I crossed the bridge and heard Jacquie behind me. Realize, she hadn’t crossed the bridge yet and I couldn’t see her, I just heard the voice. She said she busted her ass to catch up to me. I had to apologize that I would be stopping to pee. She said she’d wait for me and did. I felt so much better afterwards. She asked me if I was ready to go and jumped on her bike and took off. She was flying and didn’t look back to me. No problem, she’s a stronger rider and needed to go.

I knew I was near the end of the pack and on the lollipop loop kept looking for someone behind me. I saw Sally in T1 and thought for sure she’d be caught up to me by now. As I passed a super-enthusiastic volunteer at the end of the loop, I asked if I was last. He assured me that there were two or three behind me. (This was the same volunteer who casually pointed to the right fork when one of the lead bikers was coming in for his second loop and went flying by on the left fork. He didn’t alert him in any way that he missed the turn, just kept pointing. I think the biker finally realized something wasn’t right and turned around. I wish I could have heard the exchange that followed.)

As I was closing in on 10 miles to go, I heard a whooshing noise and realized I had a flat on the rear tire. I have to admit that I was a tiny bit happy about the flat. I was not looking forward to the run and deep down hoped that I would have a major mechanical issue forcing me to quit. I sat down to begin the changing process when Maggie passed me and offered some words of encouragement. Only two people behind me. Then another Zer passed (sorry, don’t know your name). One left. Then Sally came up. She stopped and offered her assistance telling me of her ordeal at mile 1. I realized that if I had come this far, I wasn’t going to stop. I did 49.90 miles of 70.3 and could continue on. I sent Sally on her way to finish, with a request to let everyone know I had a flat. I didn’t trust that there would be a sag or volunteer checking for wayward bikers at the end. The state troopers found me and pulled over. They helped me get the tire on the rim (first asking if they could use a screwdriver to wedge it over). After a resounding NO, I was up and moving again. They escorted me the last ten miles. It’s very disconcerting to have police lights following you.

Those ten miles were the hardest I’ve ever had to do. My mind kept tossing between determination to continue and my voice of negativity. I hoped for a flat, but dodged the debris on the shoulder which would have ensured my demise. Here is the running soundtrack for the last 30 minutes of my ride: I imagined my life on Monday and how I would feel if I quit. I really, really wanted that damn 70.3 sticker for my car. I wondered how I would tell my Mom at the finish that I couldn’t do it. I thought of my response to my non-Team Z tri buddies when they asked me how I did. I imagined how I would feel when meeting up with my fellow BOPers and hearing all of their stories and not being able to share mine. I tried to justify quitting by calling it my aqua bike. I thought I could do the 70.3 track again next year and do my first half with Priscilla who would need a training partner. I started hyperventilating. I tried unsuccessfully to make myself cry just to get it out and be done with it. I never once thought that I could do it. I thought of what I would say at the tent when I got off the bike and didn’t run. I wondered how to explain to my friends that there was nothing wrong with me, that I just didn’t feel like running. I thought of my life as a quitter-one that would start on Sunday afternoon. None of these thoughts convinced me to run.

4.26

As I pulled in to the park, I knew that everyone would be there and I had to pull myself together. I was thankful for my sunglasses. I held off the tears until passing the tent. I still didn’t know if I would run or not. Jill came up to me and asked how I was doing. It was too much and the tears started and I told her I wasn’t sure I could do the run. She walked with me to transition and waited for me. I reracked my bike and started to put on my run gear. I hadn’t decided that I would run, but I didn’t know what else to do at that point. I came out of T2 and Jill followed me.

Run

Mile 1: 17:21

Mile 2: 15:35

Mile 3: 16:03

Mile 4: 16:03

Mile 5-6: 35:15

Mile 7-8: 34:59

Mile 9: 17:04

Mile 10-11: 34:08

Mile 12: 17:04

Mile 13+: 23:49

Jill said she would get her run gear on and meet me at mile 6. She was so definitive about it, I had no choice. In fact I was pretty pissed that I would have to go all the way to mile 6 to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to meet her. Then I saw the tent again, and couldn’t go by it fast enough. I had no mental strength left. I just started walking. Every Zer who passed me on the course cheered and I gave a half-assed encouraging comment in return.

Jill found me at mile 3 and asked how I was. I still had no mental strength. She walked with me and we chatted. Slowly I got out of my own head and started to feel better. Then I saw Mike who saw me and knew something was wrong. If I talked to him for too long, I’d lose it again. I sent him on his way and kept walking and talking with Jill. I kept track of my pace every mile and knew that I was keeping a steady, albeit, slow pace. We finished the five mile loop, and started the three. I thought for sure I would see Sally, but didn’t find her until she was behind me. She’d already passed me on the bike, so how was she in the back again? Turns out she made a wrong turn on the five mile loop and did extra, yet she was in incredibly good spirits.

Jill and I headed back to the five mile loop. I wasn’t nearly as embarrassed to pass the tent this time. I saw a lot of people cheering, but Ed sticks out most because he yelled (and I absolutely hate this word, but so appropriate here) “YOU KNOW THEY DON’T CALL IT PUSSYMAN RIGHT?” Then blew the horn. I couldn’t help but smile.

Priscilla and Nicholas followed us out on their bikes and distracted me from my misery. We took off into the sand and who did I see but Jacquie again. This time bent over, writing something. Didn’t she know there was a race? We chatted and she decided to wait for us while we did the out and back. After reading her encouraging messages in the sand, all three of us walked together. Nicholas was there for us on the road again. We all just kept walking. After each mile marker, Jill and Nicholas would do the math for us and let us know we’d just completed 67.3 miles, then 68.3, then 69.3, then, we turned right and could see up the little hill to the stop sign. Annie and Denis were strolling down (I’m not sure if they were looking for us, but they were a welcome sight.) Then the stop sign was closer and I realized Jacquie and I didn’t think of what we would do for our finish line dance. (I’ve always said that if you have enough energy for a finish line dance, you didn’t race hard enough.) Nicholas asked if Jacquie and I would finish together or separate for the great finish line picture. I was determined that we would cross the line together, running. Jill sent Nicholas ahead to alert the tent we were on our way. I jokingly asked Jacquie if we should hold hands as we crossed and we both dismissed it. (I was only later that I learned that Mike and Rich actually held hands. Goobers.)

We ran in to the chorus of cheering and cowbells and horns and clapping and it was the best last 50 yards of my life. I was vaguely aware of Jacquie next to me and then she wasn’t. We crossed under the arch and the rounds of hugs began. People took lots of pictures and congratulated us, but all I wanted to do was sit down. All I could think of was putting my feet and hands into the beer cooler, but alas, Ed dumped the ice. After the mayhem died down, Jacquie and I walked down to the lake to cool off. We were in awe of what we had just done and were basking in our own accomplishment. She didn’t tell you this in her race report, but she slowed down in the final steps to the finish intentionally, because, in her words, “So you weren’t last”.

Thanks go to so many people for helping me through this race:

To the BOP group for making sure everyone knows they can finish a race and it is ok to be a back of the packer triathlete. If we’re not last, then you can’t be first.
To Jill Rhodes for recognizing where I was mentally at the end of the bike and not giving me a choice to quit. And most importantly, for walking with me for 10+ miles.
To Jacquie Meriwether for being the best tri-buddy ever. Your selfless friendship made it possible for me to finish.
To Laurel, who despite odds stacked against her, idiot doctors, and missing a month of training finishes the race amazingly.
To Priscilla and Sally for being my constant training companions and always being positive.
To Janet for giving Rich to Mike so I don’t have to worry about him. And for being such a planner, if I don’t think of it, you will.
To Emily and Alaina for being supportive, funny, witty women even when we’re sweating and miserable.

Lessons Learned

Long course triathlons are really, really hard. And I don’t think I like them very much.
I did a lot of self-examination during the bike and run training and realized where my physical faults are. I didn’t expect to have to do any mental training.
My nutrition was good.
I need to work on my bike fit.
Friends are the reason I finished this race.
Don’t be overconfident in the simplicity or perceived ease of the course.
Race directors are not event planners and I can’t expect perfection from them. Be patient.

Bassman Plan

2009-08-02T19:08:00.002-04:00

The Bassman Half is about two months away. It will be my first half distance race and will probably take me about 8 hours to complete it. This is a HUGE undertaking for me. I've been concerned if I would be able to do it and even contemplated switching to the aquabike, officially skipping the run. I did some math, and here is my official plan.

I emailed the Race Director for the time cut-offs and am still waiting on a reply. In the meantime, I'm basing everything on an 8 hour time limit.

SWIM:
1.2 miles (2112 yards) I did a 1650 in 32:55 in the pool about a week ago. I'm rounding up to 1 hour for the swim. I'm not counting on increasing my speed at all and if I do, it will just be extra for the run.

BIKE:
58 miles (FLAT). I did the course in 2007 at 15 mph. My time for 30 miles was 2 hours exactly. I usually average 10 mph on hills. But at 15mph, I'll finish the bike in a little less than 4 hours.

RUN:
13.2 miles (FLAT). That leaves me with 3 hours for the run. I'll have to increase my pace from 15:50 to 13:38 which is not realistic. However, if I can shave 30 minutes off my bike, then I'll have 3:30 for the run and my pace can be 15:58. Totally do-able, even with some walking.

So, here's my plan for the next two months:
1. Increase my bike strength. It's the easiest place for me to improve. I just have to change my pace from 14.5 mph (58 miles / 4 hours) to 16.5 mph (58 miles / 3.5 hours) over a flat course. 2mph doesn't seem that hard.
2. Go to every run workout just to build a better base. Even if I don't improve at all, I can still finish the race at my current pace.
3. Go to training weekend Aug 29-30 to see my progress and narrow my focus.

This really is an achievable goal for me with not a lot more effort than I would normally put in going to the regular workouts.

Update

2009-08-02T19:01:00.002-04:00

I wrote a version of this email to a friend earlier this week and rather than recreate it, here's most of it. It captures my thoughts pretty well.

Here's my plan:
This weekend we've got 12 miles running. I'm 90% certain that I can't do 12. The most I've done in my life is 6, so this is quite a jump. We're running at Fletchers Boathouse. My plan is to do 3 out and back one side (6 miles), then as far as I can go the other direction and back. I'm trying for 12, but realistically, I'll probably end up with 10 or so.

On Sunday, the bike, is a flat course. (well, in our coach's mind it is.) We've got 50 on the schedule. I haven't ridden a weekend ride since before my vacation and that was the ride on June 21. So, it's been well over a month since I've logged any serious mileage. The BOPers (Back of the Packers) have been really, really supportive lately.

Motivating Week

2009-05-24T19:49:00.003-04:00

This week I did almost every single workout on the schedule. It did help that there was no strength training. I say almost because I sagged today for the team and should have come home and jumped on my bike right away. I didn't, but there's no run tomorrow and we have the day off, so I'll sneak it in then.

I'm feeling really good about my training this week. I ran the Monday and Wednesday short runs and about 5 miles yesterday. Just like the swim and bike, I've discovered that it takes me a little while to get in the groove. When I do, I can enjoy the run without feeling like quitting. That, and running with someone makes all the difference.

Last weekend I ran 7 miles (my longest ever) with Jackie. We ran one minute and walked one and chatted the entire way. I was distracted from my imagined misery and made it to the end feeling really good. Yesterday I ran with Alaina and chatted again. We ran the monuments downtown and when we weren't gabbing, we were able to enjoy the views. Seriously, I need to stick with this, and I may just enjoy running.

Cadence, Rhythm, Falling

2009-05-15T10:59:00.004-04:00

I went to my first track practice on Wednesday only to find out it was canceled. Stupid soccer players. The run coach took us out on the neighborhood streets for a run and gave me some pointers.

Here they are, just so that I don't forget:
1. Increase cadence from around 150 to over 180.
2. Take smaller steps, which will come naturally when I increase my cadence.
3. Lean into the run almost, but not quite, to the point of falling over.

I'm adding my own too:
1. Go to practice.
2. Stick to a rhythm, like run one minute, walk one minute.
3. Don't quit when I get bored.

2009 Race 2: Kinetic Sprint

2009-05-12T21:59:00.004-04:00

I did this race last year and I think it's the first one I’ve repeated. Unfortunately last year it was raining during the whole thing, so comparing times this year is probably not very accurate.

We got a little lost on the way down and ended up pulling over then following another car with a bike on the back. We weren’t even sure that he was going to the race, but with no cell signal and no maps, we had no other choice. We arrived at the race site with about an hour before the start.

I checked in, got my stuff and set up transition. I got my wetsuit on and didn’t have enough time to go in the water and warm up. The water was 68 and I contemplated not wearing the wetsuit, but I’m getting used to it, so what the heck, I wore it.

Swim: 750 meters, 17:04, 10/12 (2008: 20:23)

The gun went off and away I went. The water was pretty choppy and it was crowded most of the race. It’s unusual for me to get kicked or run over mid-way though, but this time I did. As I got out of the water, I saw my time and was thrilled. (16:30 on my watch, 17:04 by the time I got to the timing mat.) That's the fastest swim time I’ve posted.

T1: 4:49, 10/10 (2008: 6:00)

T1 went fine. Usually I’m in robot mode, just doing what I need to do and not really thinking about it. That’s the beauty of setting up transition the right way. I just have to grab everything in front of me. This time around I started stripping my wetsuit and had a weird moment of realization that I was getting undressed. As I got the wetsuit around my legs, I had to look down to make sure I was wearing my shorts. I was, but it just felt strange.

Bike: 18 miles, 1:17:25, 11/12 (2008: 1:18)

I took off on the bike. Thanks to P for reminding me to put it in lower gear for the big hill as we came out. The road leading to the park entrance was really long and slightly uphill. I made a mental note that the return would be cake. As I saw the gate, I looked at my computer to check the distance and did some quick math: 2.2 miles to the gate, less than 14 miles on the course, 2.2 miles back to the transition. I can hammer out 14 miles no problem. Then I saw that my computer was acting wacky and stopped tracking mileage. I was going to have to fly blind on this one. I raced for two seasons without a computer and was fine, but now I’m so dependent on it, that I wasn’t sure how I would do. Oh, and my heart rate monitor stopped working during Rumpass and I haven’t gotten it fixed. I would have to race on time and cadence. I figured if I could stay around 90 for my cadence I could do the 14 in about an hour.

I stuck to my plan and left the computer on cadence instead of distance and my plan worked. I felt really strong on the bike. I got passed a lot as usual, but still felt good. I usually don’t mind getting passed by someone who at least looks like they know what they’re doing, nice bike, clips, actual tri shorts, etc, but getting passed by someone wearing tennis shoes is pretty bad. Getting passed by someone wearing tennis shoes and their underwear on the OUTSIDE of their bike shorts is just plain ridiculous. I have no clue what she was thinking.

T2: 2:00, 8/10 (2008: 2:34)

No lingering feelings of nakedness.

Run: 5K, 49:01, 12/12 (2008: 47:20)

I didn’t remember the run course from 2008 at all, so I didn’t visualize where I was going or what was in for me. I walked all of the first mile up the big hill. I passed the 1 mile mark on the road at 13:30. I already had doubts the swim course was short and now I just figured that everything was short. I can’t even run/walk a 15 minute mile so there’s no way I did it in less than 14. I asked one of the volunteers and he confirmed the road marking. I got to the water station, drank, and then saw the next road mark with “1 mile, sprint” at about 16:30 and realized the earlier one was wrong. I should be going much faster. Around 2.5, I saw a woman behind me. She passed me and started jogging down the trail to the finish. I saw her age, 35, and realized I could beat her. I started running, and with the help of my friend gravity, I passed her and managed to keep running for the last quarter mile or so to the finish line. I felt really, really good at the end.

2009 Overall: 2:30:17

2008 Overall: 2:34:42

The end of this race has me really motivated and the apathy after Rumpass is gone. I wanted to finish in less than 2 hours, but I didn’t think that goal up until the middle of the run. Had I written up my race report from Bumpass earlier than just now, I would have realized I can’t do that. I have to set my goals from the start.

So this week I’m heading to my first track practice, EVER. I can shave 10 minutes off my run with just a little bit of work, AND we have this boot camp thing on Monday mornings that I’m going to go to, AND, I’m going to move up a lane in swimming on Thursday, AND, I’m going to kick ass at Mooseman!

Lessons learned:

Print maps before the race and don’t get lost.
Set goals before the start of the race, not during.
Rely more on how I feel and less on what my technology tells me.
Breaking down the bike course into manageable segments really helped.
Run, run, run, run, run.

2009 Race 1: Rumpass in Bumpass Sprint

2009-05-12T21:46:00.002-04:00

The 2009 race season is upon me and I’d like to say it snuck up, but I saw it coming the whole way. This is my third year of racing with the team and the hesitation at being new the first year and the anxiety of doing well the second year has worn off. I’m not sure what has taken the place, but for now, apathy describes it close enough.

I previewed the course the night before and it seemed pretty flat, and flat is good for me. But it turns out I was a little too overconfident about the elevation. I also was not prepared for the start time. It started at 10, which is pretty late and I screwed up my nutrition by not eating enough closer to the start time.

Swim: 750 m, 21:24

I don’t remember anything being significantly wrong with the swim and I was surprised at the time when I got out of the water. It should have taken only about 16 minutes to do it.

T1: 3:42

Bike: 12 miles, 54:27

The bike killed me. I’m not sure what my problem was, but I did not do well. I thought the 12 miles would be a cinch. I tried to wait for about 15 minutes before eating and realized that I would only be biking for about an hour so I would only get two shots of Gatorade and one shot of beans and water. Mid way through, I thought that I could try and be off the bike in 40 minutes. Stupid. I didn’t make it and I was bummed for the 14 minutes more it took me to complete it and the 52 minutes until the end of the race. I was not mentally prepared for this leg.

T2: 2:18

Run: 5k 50:10

Coming off the bike and into the run, I forgot to stash some beans in my jersey. It’s usually not a problem, but with the late start, screwing up my breakfast and not eating much on the bike, it all combined to a perfect storm of lethargy. I did not feel like running (I normally don’t, but still…) and I finished slow and unhappy.

Overall 2:11:59

The first race of the season is behind me and now all I can do is improve, again.

Lessons learned:

Mentally prepare for the race, even the short, "easy" ones.
Eat better before the race, especially on a late start
Stash beans in the jersey for the run.
Remember hair band for bike.
Don’t underestimate the course and get cocky.
Set my goals before the race, not during.

Uncrustables and Winners

2008-06-29T19:51:00.003-04:00

I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich this morning before my ride. I bought those premade pb&j Uncrustables from the freezer section. When they first came out I thought they were ridiculous. Who is too lazy to make a peanut butter sandwich? Apparently me. I'm not a fan of peanut butter, but thought they had a good balance of carbs and protein and figured it couldn't hurt.

We only rode 17 miles today as it's a recovery week, but I felt great the whole way. I'm not sure if it was the sandwich, recovery week or what, but I think I'm going to give it a try next week before a longer ride.

Side Note:
I've ridden this particular ride a couple of times before. I need to start a training journal so I can see my progress. I know I rode stronger today than I had before, but I'd really like to see some concrete evidence of that. I usually compare myself to other riders on the team, but that's not smart. I look at the super fast people and get discouraged because I'm not that good. Then I look at the people I always ride with expecting one day to make a break from them. Not a smart plan either as they all are improving just as I am. I can only compare myself to me.

Another team member wrote a particularly insightful and inspirational quote:
"I only race against myself and that way I always win." Smart thinking.

Mooseman

2008-06-28T22:21:00.000-04:00

I drove 24 hours over three days to and from my latest race on June 7. My team decided to head to New Hampshire for the Mooseman Triathlon Festival. (click on the link and make sure your sound is on.) This was my first overnight trip with the team and I had a good time.

I left Virginia around 7am on Friday and started the trek. My directions said it would take about 10 hours to get there and I wanted to have time to relax when I arrived and let my butt take it's normal shape after being flattened in a car for so long. The weather was supposed to be hot all weekend, so I had spent the entire week properly (possibly over-) hydrating. This impacted my drive time as I had to stop for a potty break every two hours. I did NOT build that into my itinerary. I also usually eat sunflower seeds to stay awake, but figured that a mega-dose of sodium right before the race wasn't a good idea either.

I lost my watch earlier in the week, or rather, I misplaced it. I lose things frequently and they seem to reappear just when I need them to. I didn't give it much thought and figured it would make it's way back to me before I left. Unfortunately it didn't, so I had to find a mall on the way up and buy a new one. Again, unplanned itinerary delay.

Packet pick-up closed at 7:30 pm. I was two exits from the race site and had about 15 minutes to get there when my two lane road came to a dead stop. I knew this was a popular New England race, but the whole state of New Hampshire couldn't possibly be trying to get their race numbers at the exact same time I was. Turns out there was an accident and the road was tied up for a few miles. I didn't make it to the park until about 7:45. I figured I just scope out the area for Saturday. Luckily they kept packet pick up open and I was able to get my stuff. I went down to the water and looked across the lake-it was big. Bigger than our usual lakes, and very, very pretty.

(For those who don't know, packet pick up is checking in to the race. Usually you show your ID and get a bag full of goodies and advertisements from the sponsors. Included in the bag are your race numbers-one for your helmet and one for the bike, timing chip-a computer chip that attaches to your ankle with a velcro strap so you can get your times, swim cap, and any giveaway items like tshirts or bottles. It's not a big deal to get it on race morning, but it's one less thing to worry about if you get it early.)

I made my way to the hotel (suitable for a race weekend, but certainly not someplace I'd go back to) and settled in for the night. I had all of my gear ready for the morning so I could just get up and go.

My first alarm went off at 4:30am and then I was greeted by the chorus of other alarms I had set just in case one failed. I met up with some teammates and drove out to the site again. Race mornings are always the same, double and triple checking my packing, finding a bathroom, making sure I eat, finding a bathroom, racking my bike, finding a bathroom...you get the idea. I went down to the waterline and saw nothing. Literally, a fog had engulfed the lake and you couldn't see ten feet in front of you. It was very disorienting. I set up my transition area. I really do need to take the time to get all of my stuff ready properly. I felt much more confident this time around than I did at Lake Anna when I felt a little rushed in the rain.

As the race start time approached, we made our way to the lake hoping for the fog to clear. The water was really, really cold too....

And this has been sitting in my drafts folder for a little more than a month. I don't think I'm going to finish it. I realize I get really wordy in these things. I try to recount the whole race with as much detail as possible so I can reread before the next race and be better prepared. But that takes a long time and I'm feeling overwhelmed with things to do lately, so this one's going up as is.

Lessons Learned:
1. Prepare for proper hydration affecting your drive time.
2. 10K is a long time to walk. I wasn't happy with my time at all. Training will help, but I just don't enjoy it.
3. Swimming is super cold water is do-able, just get my face wet and deal with it.
4. I can bike 30 miles comfortably.

Hips and Boobs

2008-06-11T10:09:00.005-04:00

For anyone who has worn a wetsuit, you know they are tight, sometimes uncomfortable, and not especially flattering. In triathlon, if the water is below 78 you are allowed to wear a wetsuit during a race. I have worn wetsuits for surfing, diving and kayaking and am fairly comfortable in them. Triathlon wetsuits are made differently than other suits because you're not motionless floating like a diver or sitting and paddling like a kayaker.

I don't like the feeling of tightness that comes with wearing a triathlon wetsuit. Because you're swimming horizontally, you don't want water to enter the suit through the neck and slow you down, so it's built especially tight around your neck. I dislike wearing the triathlon wetsuit so much, that last summer I rented one for a race in New Jersey, took it with me and didn't even wear it. I was one of two swimmers not wearing one.

The wetsuit I've been renting lately is a men's size which means that there are no hips and boobs built into the sizing. I wear a sleeveless, so the arm holes gape open around my boobs letting in water and it's especially tight over my rear and hips. I've practiced in the pool with the rental suit and my time is slower. For most people, the wetsuit makes your swim times faster because it helps you float. I, however, have no need for extra flotation, thank you very much.

Each time I rent one, it's $35. I can buy a decent one for $200, so this week I decided to break down and get my own.

WOW! What a difference. I bought one by Blue Seventy sized especially for Athenas called Femme Fit. It's built with boob and hip space. I still don't like swimming in them or the tightness around my neck, but I am certainly much more comfortable.

Columbia Race Report-Updated with Photos

2008-05-19T08:10:00.012-04:00

I wasn't at all prepared for this race. I totally forgot about signing up for it back in September last year and until I got the "Welcome to Columbia" email about a month out. I was blissfully happy, I was heading out for two weeks for vacation halfway across the world. I realized I would only be home for a week before the race. Quite honestly, I haven't been very serious about training this spring. I've had a lot of races, but when I compare my workout ethic to what it was this time last year, it's in the toilet.

I had to rack my bike the night before the race which was a little frustrating. I had to drive an hour up to Columbia, leave my bike and then drive home. I wasn't sure what the protocol was, if I should leave my whole transition area or just my bike. I opted to leave my bike only.

I left Sunday morning around 5am and made it to the race site around 6. I parked on the side of the road before entering the park so I wouldn't have to deal with incoming traffic and all the people in the muddy lots-smart right?! (Spoiler alert: read the postscript.) I walked to the transition area with my backpack full of gear. (Lesson: single backpack full of gear is good.) I laid out my area just how I wanted and wandered to find my team area. The pros were starting early, around 6:45 am, and my swim wave didn't start until 8:03 am. That's a long time to wait with all that adrenaline and excitement around the course. I got my wetsuit on and went into the water with my wave. There were a lot of other teammates around which was a good distraction from my uneasy stomach I always have. The water was really, really cold. I think colder than Lake Anna. I got my face in the water and warmed up a bit by treading water. The timer sounded and I was off.

This was the longest swim in a race I've done. My mind wandered a lot and I had to keep focusing my attention on my strokes. I couple of times I forgot to kick, but I think that was more because of the wetsuit than anything. I couldn't feel my legs dragging, so when my arms were tired, my feet finally went into action. I was hoping to finish in 40 minutes and did in 36:21.

T1 went fine. I always walk between events. I don't know how everyone else can run, I just don't have it in me.

The bike went ok. I drove the course the weekend before and knew there were hills, but they just don't seem that bad when you're sitting in the driver's seat. I'm good on downhills, but not so great on the uphill. I didn't get off and walk-which is a good thing, but man, they were tough. There were hardly any flats which I like to use to recover. I was about mid-way through the course when all of the bikers were stopped. Apparently a racer got into an accident and had to be taken out on a helicopter-at least that's the word passed through the crowd. After about 5 minutes we were on our way again and stopped again, moving, then stopped, then finally moving. I was there for about 6 minutes total. It was nice to get off the bike for a few minutes and stretch, but getting back on was hard.

I never quite knew how much longer I had left to ride. It was only by asking the volunteers that I found out. (Lesson: buy a bike computer.) The last seven miles killed me, they just seemed to take forever. I was tired and the stupid hills just never stopped. This was the first time I ever thought about quitting a race. I seriously contemplated coasting into transition and not doing the run at all.

As I was coming in to transition, one of the volunteers told me to cheer up, but I couldn't. I have no idea what happened, but I was so emotional. It was like I was letting myself down if I quit. I was on the verge of tears-which is totally unlike me. I walked over to my rack and started changing into my run gear. I still wanted to quit, but I didn't plan what I would do after that, so I just kept going. (Lesson: plan your race, race your plan. And don't plan to quit!)

I left for the run and saw another volunteer who gave some encouraging words. I was about to start bawling when a runner came up beside me and started chatting. We introduced ourselves and walked/shuffled along the course together. We ended up staying together for all six miles and crossed the finish line together. My team, Team Z, was out at the finish line waiting for me as I went down the chute. I did some high fives and felt like crying again, but not because I was upset, but because I was happy that I didn't quit, I finished and happy there were people there cheering me on.

Here are my final results: (Overall Results are here.)
Swim 1500 meters (.93 miles) 36:21 rank 12/14
T1 6:09 rank 13/13
Bike 41K (25.47 miles) 2:20:00 rank 13/13
T2 2:47 rank 7/13
Run 10K (6.2 miles) 1:42 rank 13/13
Overall 4:47:54 and placed 1681 out of 1722 total racers, 576 out of 600 female racers and 13 out of 13 in my division.

Lessons Learned
1. Bring more than my running shoes. I forgot flip flops and walked around in socks all morning (including the porta pottie-gross!) because my only shoes were my running shoes.
2. Use my watch timer for nutrition. I didn't eat/drink every 15 minutes on the bike and it hurt. My stomach cramped during T2 and the run. I think because I had too much sugar and not enough water.
3. Thinking about the dread of the next event doesn't do any good. Focus on what I'm doing and I'll be fine.
4. Don't quit. I'll always regret it.
5. Pack all gear in a backpack.
6. Buy a bike computer.

Postscript
At the end of the race my feet were killing me, I was cold and tired and I had to walk about 10 minutes to get from the finish line to the transition area to get my bike and gear, in the rain. I packed everything up and then had to walk out the park to my car down the street. Where it was so conveniently parked before the race, now it was like a marathon trying to get there. So much for foresight.

Lake Anna Race Report

2008-04-20T19:37:00.003-04:00

Here's the short version for tonight, more later.
Rain, rain, and more rain. Air temp high 60s, water temp 61.

Lessons Learned:
1. Even in the rain, take the time to properly set out my transition area. My gloves and shirt were inside out.
2. Drink more fluids. With the rain running down my face, I didn't think I was thirsty.
3. Long sleeve shirt under the short sleeve was good.
4. The wetsuit was uncomfortable, but I definitely needed it. Bodyglide, bodyglide, bodyglide on the triceps.
5. Do a quick warm up in the water before actually swimming. It helps with the shock of cold.
6. Long slow strokes with lots of time for breathing helps me relax.

Protein Epiphany

2008-04-15T09:49:00.004-04:00

I'm learning all kinds of new things lately. Mostly it's about external things-carbon bikes, changing tires, zone training. Today, I add one more category; nutrition and its affect on me. I kind of knew that if I didn't work out, it hurt to go back. If I didn't eat properly before a race, that I suffered-but all of that was just abstract. But now, I know about PROTEIN!

I have a calendar that hangs above my scale in the bathroom. (I replace it with a picture when company comes over.) I weigh myself every morning and mark it on the calendar. I know I'm not supposed to weigh myself everyday, but I like to spot the trends. I got a new calendar that I like better, so I transferred all of the weights. Turns out, my weight hadn't changed more than two or three pounds FOR FOUR MONTHS! I am busting my butt and working out at least six times a week for nothing. Yes, yes, I'm stronger, I have more muscle, some clothes fit better, whatever. I DON'T CARE! I WANT THE SCALE TO CHANGE TOO!

I decided it's finally time to call the nutritionist our team uses and make an appointment. Being a new vegetarian, triathlete and trying to lose weight is well over my head for nutrition planning. I found her website, saw a link to a calorie counter online, and signed up for a 7-day free trial. The program is a food diary that counts all of the different components of the meal-calories, carbs, fat, protein, sodium etc. I entered in my food and saw the counters slowly ticking up. I stayed mostly within my alloted total calories for the day, but I was eating the majority of my calories as carbs. Things like bread, pasta etc, I knew were carbs, but I forgot that sugar was too. And I was dangerously low on protein.

Over the past week I have been limiting (NOT eliminating) the carbs and increasing the protein with beans, eggs and other stuff. (I have a funny egg story I'm saving for later.) The result? I lost 3.6 pounds from when I started tracking this time last week! I swam in a faster lane this morning for 90 minutes instead of 60 and kept up. My muscles didn't feel tired, sore or overextended.

And that, my friends, is my Protein Epiphany! I'll check in next week and let you know how week 2 of my new self-guided nutrition plan is working.

Back Outside

2008-04-14T18:51:00.004-04:00

We started our outdoor weekday rides last week. It's fun to get outside again. I do like my trainer and it's convenient, but outside is best, especially on a nice day.

It's hard to measure my improvement when I keep comparing myself to the other people I know on the team. I should compare myself to myself. I need to find a good way to do that. Last Tuesday we went out from our usual elementary school. I've ridden this route lots of times and it was my first experience outside last year when I first started with the team. As we approached a hill, I took a deep breath anticipating the difficulty. As I made my way to the top, I thought, "this isn't so bad." I actually made it to the top, a little winded, but definitely not exhausted. I improved!

On Thursday we went out to our usual loops around Haines Point. I invited a friend to come along and we rode together the whole way. I was supposed to do some slower zone 2 work then some sprints, but my friend rode at a faster pace and I ended up riding zone 3 and 4 for the whole workout. That was a mistake. I was able to keep up, but I was definitely tired at the end and hurting over the weekend.

Note to self: maintain your training zones and don't try to keep up with faster riders.

Cherry Blossoms, Rain and Roadblocks

2008-04-06T18:57:00.005-04:00

Today was the Cherry Blossom 10-miler. I didn't sleep well, as usual, and woke up 20 minutes before my alarm to rain pattering my window. I drove up to the metro and rode into the city.

Hanging out before the race was calming. I was early and it felt nice not to be rushed. I did forget my gloves and chapstick, but ended up not needing either. We lined up in the color coded corrals at the start line about 20 minutes before the gun was supposed to go off. I was in the purple group, the last one. I knew I would be slow and my goal was finish the race without getting picked up by the slow runner bus.

Slow runner bus? Does anyone remember that toy truck Tupperware made that had those little foam blocks? It runs over the blocks and automatically they get picked up and spit into the back of the truck. (I just did an image search for one and can't find a thing.) Anyway, I had visions of the truck coming up behind me and scooping me up into the back when I went too slow.

Because of the number of runners, the organizers have permission to close the streets for the 12,000 runners. Because of the gazillion of tourists in the city for the Cherry Blossom Festival, they have to clear the streets very quickly after the runners. To do this, at a predetermined time, they put a road block up at mile 5 and then follow the tortoises with a bus for the rest of the race making sure they aren't going too slow.

At around the 2-mile mark we run around a hairpin turn and I look back to see the buses! They're not supposed to be following me yet! I have until mile 5 for the stupid bus! GO AWAY! They followed me through mile 3 and I just pretended not to see them. They caught up with me at mile 4 and I looked the other way. If they wanted me in the bus, they were going to have to carry me in. They went past me and picked up an older woman and then waited. I ran by with as much speed as I could muster and just kept going. Things just started going down hill from there. (And not in the actual sense, or I could have run faster.) I saw the trucks that picked up all of the signs and the water stations. They were dismantling the course before my very eyes. I watched in horror as a whole table of sugary-sweet gatorade was tipped over in the gutter. Man, how I needed some gatorade. Opting not to lick the street, I glared and the volunteers and shuffled along.

I looked ahead to see if I could find the mile 5 marker before the dismantling team took it and found it as it was being lifted into the truck. I made a mental note of the location so I could mark my time. I tried to push ahead and make it past the impending road block and what do you know, I was too slow. By a mere 30 seconds! There were some very nice ladies stopping everyone and taking their timing chips. I didn't make it. Out of a 10-mile race, my slow butt only made it 5. Here are my splits for each mile:
mile 1 12:38 (I had to go that fast, there were throngs of people pushing from behind me.)
mile 2 14:56
mile 3 15:04
mile 4 14:55
mile 5 14:37
Overall Time for 5 miles: 1:12:11 (1 hour, 12 minutes, 11 seconds)

After this rainy, cold, miserable, slow race I have decided that I DON'T like running. I thought I could enjoy it, but nope, I don't. There is nothing about it I like. I heard a motivational speaker once who said that if you think positive, positive things will happen to you. Negative thoughts=negative results. I remembered this during mile 3 and decided, what the hell, I'll give it a try. I chanted "I like running. This is fun. I am fast. I feel good. I like running." Look above and see my times? Mile 3 was my slowest. Positive my ass. Running blows.

Running Through a Colon

2008-03-30T22:13:00.006-04:00

Seriously, that's what I did today. It was my first 5K and it was sponsored by Scope it Out Run/Walk for Colon Cancer Awareness. I don't know anyone who has been affected by colon cancer, but I hope my $25 race fee can help those that do.

It was a fun race held in DC among the perfectly blooming cherry blossoms. The morning was freezing-and I mean literally. The temps when I left my house were in the 30's, much too cold to be running outside. I bundled up in long johns, running pants, short sleeve shirt, long sleeve shirt, fleece pull-over, fleece jacket, (which I removed for the race) hat and gloves. I drove down to the race site and attempted to find parking. This weekend was also opening weekend for the Cherry Blossom Festival and parking was a nightmare. I had my bike in the back of my car and after much driving in circles with all of the tourists, I managed to get a parking spot and pedal to the race start-about two miles away. Luckily I'm smart like that because adding two miles to a three mile race is just plain silly.

I quickly found my team exactly where they were supposed to be, behind the giant blow up colon. (There's a joke there, but I'll let you figure it out.) Our team was asked if we would volunteer as polyps for the race and wear special hats and shirts that said "catch the polyps". The idea is to raise awareness and catch polyps early before they become cancerous. I chose not to be a polyp figuring I would be near the back of the pack and not getting caught isn't a good message to send.

I did some minor stretching thinking this race is just like the shorter run/walks I do at home (and I don't stretch there). As we all headed over to the start line, I noticed runners holding giant signs with their pace time. This helps the runners sort themselves out so the slower runners don't get trampled by the speed demons. A teammate pointed out the 12 minute pacer and a lady with a cane and suggested that we should probably fit between the two just fine.

I started the race shuffling along in my jog pace. I didn't take my usual five minute warm-up walk and that hurt. At about the half-mile mark my shins started to hurt. I wanted to stop and stretch, but felt the pressure of time beating down on me. I kept pushing through it and finally had to give up and stop. I felt pretty good throughout the race and I think I managed to run more than walk. Just before the one mile mark, everyone started cheering for the first runner on his way back! I was running a 14:30 pace and this guy had completed over three miles in the time it took me to cover less than one! His pace was 4:50. I don't think I could even sprint that fast.

Anyway, the rest of the race went along just fine. Nothing very eventful happened. I did manage to speed up the last quarter mile or so. The running motion I had for that portion was certainly more runner-like than my shuffle. I may try to do that again next weekend.

Race results are here.
Overall I placed 1368 out of 1841 runners, 745 out of 1089 women and 143 out of 193 women aged 30-34. My final time was 45:18 which is a pace of 14:35 per mile. I wanted to be at least 14 minute miles in preparation for the Cherry Blossom Ten-Miler on Sunday, but that didn't work out.

Lessons learned for this race:
1. Do your warm up walk before the race.
2. STRETCH!
3. Banana with nutella and gatorade was a perfect pre-race meal.
4. All of the layering is good.

USAT Rankings

2008-03-26T10:36:00.004-04:00

I just got an email with a link to the USA Triathlon rankings from 2007. I figured I would do a quick search to see if I showed up, and what do you know, I did!!! I'm shocked, flabbergasted, awed, amazed-insert your favorite synonym here. My final rankings for 2007 were 1554 out of 1584 women aged 30-34. My points were 46.0761 and my gender grade was 50.6837. I have no clue what the points and gender grade mean, but the rankings, that means something. And now you're saying, "What does it mean Tracey?" It means that I'm not the slowest person in the USA! Wahooo! There are 30 women in the entire United States, age 30-34 who are slower at triathlon than me! Hey, I readily admit that I'm slow, I'm just glad I'm not the slowest! (And I give kudos to the 29 women below me and especially to #1584, Jacquelin Courtney of Hutto, Texas, you all are what keeps me motivated.)

Still Waiting

2008-03-13T17:48:00.002-04:00

I ordered my shoes a week ago and I'm still waiting for them to come in. I want to take advantage of this newfound desire to run, but can't.

This past Tuesday, I got up to swim. I did my usual morning routine and was out the door in about 15 minutes. As I'm heading down the highway, I start to see taillights. That's a pretty unusual sight at 5:15 am, even in DC. All of a sudden everyone is at a complete stop. I tune in to the traffic station and find out there's an accident about a half mile from where I am. It must have just happened because as I was sitting there the tow trucks, ambulances and police come flying down the shoulders. Turns out there was a semi truck on it's side blocking three lanes out of five. It took me 40 minutes to move one mile. By the time I was past the accident it was well after 6 and practice was over at 6:30. So much for that.

I guess it was nice to get out of the house for a 5 am drive on a workday.

I Like Running?

2008-03-08T21:05:00.011-05:00

Never in a million years would I have ever dreamed of saying that. But now, I think I like running.

I needed new running shoes, so I looked around online and couldn't find my model. I started calling some local shops and was informed that my beloved Saucony Progrid Trigon Ride 4 were replaced with the 5. (It's a mouthful to try and say that on the phone.) I looked for the 5 online and ordered a new pair. Those are the ones, blue and silver, looking super-fast. I couldn't remember if I wore the regular width or wide width, so I ordered the regular. They were delivered to my office and I wore them around in my suit all afternoon. I bopped and jumped around the halls on a few-more-than-necessary trips to the kitchen, bathroom and copy room. They felt great and I couldn't wait to get home and run. (Again, I am the least likely runner, so this is a big deal for me.)

After work, I started running through my neighborhood and felt pretty good. I was going to do my run-walk, but after the first minute was up, I felt fine and decided to keep running. I ended up running for 10 minutes straight. I only stopped because my feet hurt. I should have bought the wide widths. Darn.

I called around town to all the running shops I know and none of them have the 5's in wide widths. I had to go back online and get them there. In the mean time, I took my old shoes out for a jog. Mistake. Big time. No wonder I never liked running before. I could feel each step reverberating through my body. It hurt. I ended up walking the whole way.

Now my new shoes are on the way and I can't wait to get out and run. I'm not thrilled that they only had the wide 5's in pink and white. Stupid girly shoes.

Trying to Run

2008-02-17T20:52:00.002-05:00

Who knew that doing a basic thing like running would be so difficult? I went out for a run today and struggled through it. I normally do a run-walk thing and was hoping that method would work with my new heart rate training zones. It didn't. I walked at a my usual pace, about 20 minutes per mile. My heart rate stayed around 119. I tried to run a bit, albeit very, very slow and it jumped to 152. I don't think I can run any slower or walk any faster. Walking uphill helped, but I can't walk uphill for the whole time. I have no clue how to fix it. I guess that's why I have a coach.

Wow, three posts in only a week. A new record.

I'm Back (Again)

2008-02-14T23:49:00.004-05:00

I was looking at my blog after several people mentioned that they hadn't seen an update in a while when I noticed I had drafted a posting back in December and never published it. So, not unlike my training, I was slacking and finally got around to it, today, February 14, two months late. And things haven't changed at all since December. I haven't been to very many practices. So I'm announcing that I am back, again.

What have I done since December? Not much. I bought a trainer for my bike. That means I can hook up my bike and ride it like a stationary bike when it's cold out and I don't want to freeze. I had my VO2 max test on February 12. I went on a couple of rides and one group run. Like I said, not a lot for two months.

What's the VO2 max test you say? Basically it measures how efficient my body is at using the oxygen I take in. There is a lot of math, formulas and physiology that I don't understand, but bottom line is I know what my training zones are. What are training zones? That's how "hard" I should work out and is based on my heart rate. Think about running. You can run at a slow jog a lot longer than you can sprint all out. That's because your body is burning your fat as fuel during the slow jog (of which everyone has a lot-even super fit athletes) and burning carbohydrates as fuel during the sprint which is in limited supply. Each person's heart rate training zones are different.

You've probably seen the heart rate training zone graphs on treadmills or bikes in the gym. Typically, your zone is 220 minus your age to achieve your maximum heart rate and then a percentage of that number defines your fat-buring range or your cardio-range. The VO2 max test gave me my personal pace. Here are my zones: (Not that this means anything to you, but in case I lose my handy workbook, I'll have this to refer to. Also, I can do the test next year or at the end of the season and compare results-hopefully there's an improvement.)

Zone 1: 123-133
Zone 2: 133-141
Zone 3: 142-156
Zone 4: 157-165
Zone 5a: 166-169
Zone 5b: 170-176
Zone 5c: 177+
VO2 max: 25.8 (32 is average for females and higher is better. My number sucks.)

How does this affect my future training? Well, now I will wear a heart rate monitor when I train to make sure I am in the correct heart rate zone. It's just an elastic and plastic strap I wear around my chest and a watch which shows my heart rate. If I stick with Zone 2, I'll burn more fat while working out than any other zone. I'll also pay a lot closer attention to my intensity while training. I have a feeling I swim in a higher zone than I should, bike higher (stupid hills) and run lower. Bottom line, I will train my body to work more efficiently. I will go faster while expending less energy.

I'm Back

2007-12-11T14:21:00.001-05:00

After two months off for work and vacation, I'm finally back in training. I was on travel for work from October 12-November 7. I lost about 7 pounds too. Then I was home for about a week recovering from 14 hour days for a month straight, then went on vacation from November 15-29 (and gained back the 7 pounds). After taking the weekend off I had very good intentions of full force training on Monday, December 3. Does it shock you that I didn't make it?

You've heard me chat about the swim lanes before. I'm pretty much dead center with regards to speed. There are equal numbers of swimmers faster and slower than me. Since I started, I don't see much improvement in my speed, but I think I am more efficient in the water. In theory, I am now expending less energy to cover the same distance.

I went to the swim workout on Tuesday and saw a few new faces in my lane. Unfortunately, they are the faces of the slower swimmers moving up to my lane. They are improving their speed, I'm not. I looked over to the faster lane and there are my old lane mates. I guess that's what I get for slacking for two months. It's a bit disappointing, but I know that's the way it goes.

My next workout was scheduled for Tuesday evening. In fact, I had workouts twice a day for the entire week and I didn't make it to one of them. I even flaked on the weekend bike ride which I normally look forward to.

Post Season Blahhhhhhs

2007-10-14T09:36:00.000-04:00

Bassman was my last race of the season. Overall I'm happy with my accomplishments over the summer and glad that I joined the team. I certainly would not have been as motivated if I was doing this on my own.

I have this huge project at work for the next month, then I'm on vacation for three weeks, so I'm not doing any team workouts until December. I realized on Sunday as I was driving home from the race, that my nutrition wasn't nearly as important as it had been. Or, that's the head game my brain is playing with my stomach. Hey, I can eat McDonalds again. Regular sodas, pour me an extra large. Dessert, sure, I'll have seconds. [insert screeching car tires here] WAIT! I worked damn hard to get to the place I'm in now, I should continue on this healthy eating plan, right? Ahhh, that's the problem. I don't have some huge race looming in the next few weeks to motivate me to stay on track. In fact, instead of the race, there's the black hole of work and inactivity that is tempting me in the other direction. Once I'm down that path, there's no turning back.

This will be one of my goals for the winter off season. Continue to eat healthy. I've learned that I am motivated by the pain I will feel on the course if I don't take care of myself. I have to figure out my motivation for when there is no race in sight. As if being in my mid-thirties, heading toward middle age, osteoporosis, heart disease, yada yada yada, isn't enough. For me, it's not. I need a shorter term goal. One that affects me directly and nearly immediately. If anyone has any ideas, let me know.

Bassman Race Report

2007-10-08T21:43:00.000-04:00

Bassman Triathlon on October 7, 2007

Swim .6 mile/965 meters 24:47 rank 146/176
T1 5:04 rank 137/176
Bike 29 miles 1:55:44 rank 168/176
T2 1:51 rank 114/176
Run 4 miles 1:02 rank 170/176
Overall 3:29:31 and placed 165 out of 176 total (male and female) racers. I placed 6 out of 6 in my division.

Click here for a link to all results.

Lessons Learned:

Eat more before the race. I ate breakfast at 0500 and didn't race until 0830. I had a banana at 0700 and that wasn't enough. I could feel it hard in the first 10 miles of the bike.
Find the mantra that works to push me harder. 'Long strokes' for the swim, 'keep pedaling' for the bike and 'RUN' for the run. I thought those three things during the last quarter of each event. I felt like it worked. Try to start earlier.
Push to the front of the swim pack. I can keep up. Spend less time wondering if anyone is behind you and more on how to keep in front.
A water bucket is good for sandy swim finishes.
I like the effects of the sport beans more than the cliff shots.
Flatter is not better. There's no time for resting between hills.
Figure out how to mount the bike faster.
Run more. I think this every time I finish, but can't get myself to think it while I'm walking. I crossed the finish line with energy to spare. I have nothing to compete in after this race and I should have spent every last bit of energy in the run.

Smallwood Race Report

2007-10-05T22:43:00.000-04:00

Part 2 of 2

I woke up on race morning feeling ready to go. All of my ailments from the last few days were gone. I made it to the race site with plenty of time to spare. The other races I've done, the parking lots are a bit of a hike to the transition area. This time everything was close and I was able to go back and forth to my car as I remembered things. I set up my transition area as chanted my transition mantra. It works for me, so I'll continue to look like I'm talking to myself as I'm getting ready.

As I made my way down to the swim I was thinking about the ripped cap dream I had. I wasn't nearly as nervous as I had been for other races. I guess I'm starting to get the hang of things. The swim course was moved because of an overgrowth of weeds in the water. Swim starts usually start on the shore. This time it was an in-water start. We had to jump from the dock and tread water for five minutes before the gun went off. This worked well for me as I had a few minutes to warm up without the pressure of time ticking by. I finished the swim with no issues and felt good about my performance.

More to come...

Final Results
Swim 750 meters 19:44 rank 76/111
T1 6:15 rank 91/111
Bike 16 miles 1:08 rank 92/111
T2 1:48 rank 75/111
Run 3.1 miles 45:56 rank 109/111
Overall 2:22:21 and placed 103 out of 111 female racers. I placed 3 out of 4 in my division.

Smallwood Pre-Race Report

2007-09-23T20:15:00.000-04:00

Part 1 of 2

The General Smallwood Triathlon hit be on the back of the head like a ton of bricks. I was out of town for work the whole week prior to the race and got back home on Friday at midnight with the race on Sunday morning. To make matters worse-and completely my own fault-I went out drinking with some colleagues on Thursday night. I did my best while traveling to keep up with my workouts. I ran on Monday and swam at 6am before work on Tuesday and Thursday at the city pool. I kept up my nutrition by eating fairly healthy and was downing water like a camel in the desert. (Come to think of it, I was in the desert.) Anyway, I went to dinner on Wednesday night and had some margaritas. I figured that would be early enough in the week to recover. Then Thursday hit. Dinner-a beer, post dinner work in the hotel lobby-another beer, invite to the local club-sure! (In my defense, we are having a work function there next month and needed to make sure the place was acceptable.)

So for those not familiar with the astronomical cost of going out in DC, it's insane. I've been to a bar for their Thursday happy hour where the drinks are half priced for $5. (Yes, yes, do the math now, that means they're regularly $10-without tip!) So when I found out the drinks at my local club were only $3, well, I just had to try every one. No, I didn't, but I did lose track after number four. Fast forward to Friday morning and a hangover that I haven't felt since I was 22. To make matters worse, I had to pack my stuff and drive two hours to get to the airport. Nursing hangovers isn't fun when you're at home, so next time you're up for a challenge, try doing it in the car on the way to a 6 hour plane ride.

I got home around midnight on Friday and crashed into bed. Silly me, I volunteered to work the International Distance Smallwood race on Saturday morning so I didn't even get to sleep in. It was a good dry run of Sunday though to see where everything was and how the race would unfold. I tried all day to catch up with my dehydration from drinking and the plane.

Saturday night as I was falling into bed early, I noticed a weird feeling in my stomach. I couldn't decipher if it was nerves for the race, an upset stomach from my drinking or stress about my upcoming work project. I was trying to find something to make it go away when suddenly-BAM, it hits me-cramps. On top of everything else I was dealing with, I had stupid cramps. A few weeks ago I listened to a nutrition lecture where I was told that Tylenol, Aleve, Aspirin, etc, were not good to take when exercising. Apparently it's just masking pain that your body is trying to make you take notice of. Also, it dehydrates you or something. (Careful, I'm no doctor, don't take my advice.) So as I laying there, trying to sleep, watching the seconds go by, I'm debating if I should take something to make the pain stop. Around 1am, I finally relent figuring that if I don't sleep I won't race anyway. Ahh, relief in 30 minutes and I'm in snooze-ville.

Generally I don't sleep well when I have a big event the next day and this was no exception. I had a dream that I was standing at the start line trying to put my cap on for the swim. I ripped the thing just as the gun was going off. I didn't have time to go get a new one and fumbled around in the water with my hair in my face.

Open Water Swim-Lake Montclair

2007-09-12T20:06:00.001-04:00

Last weekend I did the Lake Montclair 1 Mile Open Water Swim. Even though I feel the strongest about my swim, I am always nervous right before getting in the water. I figured the best way to combat that was to do as much open water swimming as I possibly can. The Lake Montclair race was close, not terribly early in the morning and affordable. Most of the triathlons are close to $100, but this was only $25. I can buy the t-shirt for cheaper, but that takes all the fun out.

Now before you go getting all "wow, 1 mile is far to swim" realize that I regularly swim 1.5 to 2 miles for each swim practice. It's really not that far and I do those practices in about an hour. I am by no means the fastest on the team. In fact, of 10 lanes in the pool, with lane 1 the fastest, I'm in lane 6. The bottom 40%. And lane 10 are the swimmers who are just starting out and can barely make it across the pool. I'm not in Michael Phelps territory by any stretch.

So, I get to the lake, which is really more of a large pond and think that I should have signed up for the 2-mile race. The course doesn't look too far. I listen to the pre-race schpiel and learn that I have to do 2 loops. There goes my thought for the 2-miles.

We're lined up for the start and I remember that I had to send in my estimated time for completion. I guessed at 38 minutes. A mile is about 1750 yards and it takes me about 2 minutes to do 100 yards in the pool. I threw in the other 3 1/2 minutes to give myself some wiggle room. I'm standing next to a guy who swims in my lane and am comforted that I'll have someone to swim with. He's put down 40 minutes for his time.

As we're shuffling down to the water, I ready my cap and goggles. We're starting in waves of 10 people, so there shouldn't be much jostling for position in the water. A mass swim start can be this bad, but in the races I do, it's a little more like this. It's not unusual to be kicked in the face, scratched or swam over. In those cases, I tend to stay out of the fray and wait for the crazy intense people to get out of my way. This time though, I just jumped in and started swimming.

As much as I hate warming up, I'm realizing that I perform better if I do. It took me about 15 minutes to really relax in the water and get in a groove. When I bike, I really struggle for the first 30 minutes, then I relax and just pedal. Anyway...I've been trying out a new swim style in the pool lately to become more efficient and decided to implement the new stroke this race. Again, before you start thinking, "wow, Tracey, efficient strokes, warming up, you sound serious" let me tell you the real reason: It's easier. Less effort, better results. It's pure laziness that motivates me to go faster.

So, the new stroke had an unintended side effect-swimming crooked. When you swim in a pool, there's this handy black line that guides you. In open water, there's no line. And when you've spent your entire swim career, albeit brief, following that line and suddenly it's gone, your sense of direction goes out the window. That plus my new swim stroke spelled disaster. I had to sight the buoy much more often that I did at the Culpeper race. That's ok, but when I'm in my zone, I just want to swim mindlessly.

I made it around the first loop and felt really strong. I checked my time and was at about 22 minutes. I had to swim the second loop in 16 minutes to meet my goal. Not completly impossible, but definitely hard. I spotted my lane mate's green cap ahead of me and tried to catch him. I knew we were the same speed and if I could just maintain that pace, I'd be fine. I have a tendency to just plug along and not push myself faster. As I rounded the last turn into the finish I lost the green cap and found another one, yellow. I like to try and set little goals like beating the person ahead of me. I sprinted the last 300 yards and stood up right behind yellow cap guy. Turns out yellow cap guy was my lane mate and green cap guy went way off course and had to be turned around by a safety kayaker. Glad I didn't follow him.

My final time was 44 minutes. It was a lot slower than I would have liked, but I realized that along with that missing black line, there are no walls in an open water swim. That means that I don't get to kick off the wall every 25 yards. And I'm really good at that.

It's not until I'm done with a race that I think, 'that wasn't too bad'. Next time I compete, I'll push myself harder and really give 100%. I feel like I should push so much that when I'm done, I'm spent. No walking, no talking, no function. So tired that all I can do is just be.

Culpeper Race Report

2007-08-20T21:49:00.000-04:00

Two weeks ago I completed my second triathlon. What follows is my race report.

Culpeper is about 90 minutes from where I live and I debated on going down the night before or just getting up early. Procrastination made my decision for me and I just went the morning of the race. Leaving the house, the weather was thick, the air was steamy and I was dreading the race in those conditions.

I arrived at Culpeper two hours early. I shook off the "pre-race jitters" at a nearby hotel restroom before arriving at the race site. I'm not usually picky about porta-potties, but in this case, I wanted comfort. I continued on to the race site, checked in and spotted my team tent in no time. Somehow the weather out in the boonies was drastically different than home. There was little humidity and the sky was overcast. I racked my bike and set up my transition area just like I had the night before in my room. That initial preparation really helped to calm me. I walked away from my bike muttering my transition chant-wipe face, sock, shoe, sock, shoe, shirt, helmet, gloves, bike, go. The other racers must have thought I was a nut job.

Standing around for my swim start I tried not to get too nervous. I knew what to expect, but there's still butterflies. I'm not sure I'll ever kick that feeling. I hear veteran racers feel the same way every race too.

I felt strong in my swim, but didn't want to get bulldozed, so I started out in the back of the pack. I ended up passing quite a few people and which really boosted my confidence. The water was really murky and as warm as a bathtub. After each turn I sighted the next buoy and thought of how far away it seemed, so I just plugged along and managed to finish with a respectable time.

Running out of the water I saw my coach and got a little jolt of energy. I grabbed a cup of water to rinse the mud out of my mouth and headed for the bike. My little brother was screaming for me and bam, another jolt of energy. I made it to my bike and started my chant. It worked well until I got my shirt stuck on my head. My body was wet and the shirt just didn't want to move. Luckily my brother chose that time to start the video portion of my race report and I have 3 minutes of the most ridiculous looking transition ever.

Starting the bike, I knew what to expect because of the previous week's preview ride. I knew that if I made it the first 8 miles, I would be fine. People were passing me like crazy, but I just figured it was all of those slow swimmers from earlier. But no, once the women were past, then the older men, then the older, older men, I knew I was destined for the back of the pack. I made it up the hill I had to walk the week before and then to the mid-point of the course where I knew it would be smooth sailing. No luck for me though. I dropped my chain. I do this often enough to know that if I keep pedaling, the chain usually fixes itself. Again, no luck this time. I had to stop, get off my bike and put it back on myself. I lost probably a minute at most and given my placement in the pack, that minute wouldn't have made an ounce of difference. I finished the bike feeling strong.

As I ran into the transition to drop my bike, my calves shriveled up and wouldn't move. My brother kept yelling at me to run, but I couldn't flex my ankles. I dropped my helmet and changed shoes and out of transition.

Mid-way up the first hill, I had to stop. My feet weren't working right and my calves were killing me. Stretching never felt so good. I walked the first mile with no other problems. Around what I figured was mile 2, I saw a downhill and decided to run. For those of you who don't know, this is a big thing for me as I absolutely despise running. I would rather have my fingernails ripped out than run. Ironically enough, I have dreams at night about running fast and smooth for a really long time, taking huge strides and feeling the wind whip my hair. This run was the antitheses of that dream. My feet barely left the ground and when they did move forward I couldn't classify it as a stride by any stretch of the word. My shoes pounded the ground, I took tiny steps, and I was lucky I didn't fall flat on my face. After a few minutes of the gravity pulling me down, I thought, "Hey, I can do this running thing. What was I so whiny about before? Running isn't hard. I'm not breathing hard, my knees don't hurt, my legs and feet feel fine. I can be like my dream-fast like the wind." Then the downhill was over, the road stretched up and I was snapped back into reality. Running SUCKS. I decided that the only way to keep with my 15-minute miles was by running the downhills and as many flats as I could manage.

The way the course was set up I could see the finish line for the last quarter mile or so. I got another shot of adrenaline and ran that last bit across the finish line. I heard the announcer call my name and I was finished. I felt good about the race and strong about my performance. I'm not sure if I could have given more during the event and I didn't feel too spent afterwards.

I know that I need to work on my biking. I feel like I'm pedaling as fast as I can and nearly the whole race finished ahead of me. I only beat six people on that course. I think that's where my greatest improvement lay. If I had ridden just 10 minutes faster, I would have jumped up 40 places in the bike standings. I still loathe running, but can see the benefit of speeding things up too. I'm happy with my swim and can see shaving one or two minutes off that time, but in the scheme of things, that's not much. Overall, it was a fun race and I'm looking forward to making some improvements at General Smallwood in September.

Wahooo-Second Race Done!

2007-08-05T17:18:00.000-04:00

I'm beat and will elaborate more later, but my times for Culpeper were:
Swim 750 meters 19:54 rank 154/205
T1 3:01 rank 172/205
Bike 15 miles 1:13:37 rank 199/205
T2 2:23 rank 168/205
Run 3.1 miles 44:54 rank 203/205
Overall 2:23:48 and placed 199 out of 205 female racers. I placed 9 out of 10 in my division.
Click here to see the official results.

Getting Ready for Culpeper

2007-08-04T17:11:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow is my first race of 2007, first with Team Z and my second race ever. It's the Culpeper Sprint. The distances are nearly the same as my Yorktown race last year. The swim is 750 meters in a lake, the bike is 15 miles and the run is 5k (3.1 miles).

I spent the afternoon getting everything ready on my bedroom floor in a mini transition area. I debated getting in the shower with my gear on, running to my room and putting on my bike stuff. I went so far as to set up my bike on the front porch so I could run downstairs and out the front door. Then I thought about how hot it was outside and changed my mind. I've heard that visualizing your transitions helps the process when you're actually doing it, so in the end I stood over my pile of stuff and just imagined what it would be like.

There are a few people spending the night over at the race site. I thought about dragging out the old pop-up trailer and heading out a day early so I could just chill out, but changed my mind. I did the math and figured that I would spend just as much time packing up all my stuff in the morning than if I just left the house. The race is about 90 minutes away and I should be there around 6:30am. I'll be leaving the house around 4:30am. It's not much earlier than my normal swim days.

I've been hyper-aware of what I've eaten over the last two days. I've been sure to drink plenty of water and had my big pasta dinner last night. I'm still not sure what to have for dinner tonight though. I think something high in protein and low in fiber. I don't want any surprises tomorrow morning. I'm sure I'll be fine, I just have this lingering feeling that I'll do something wrong and I won't be able to race.

My goals for this race are:

Finish feeling like I did my best.
Swim-18 minutes
Bike-1:15
Run-45 minutes

I'll report back tomorrow or Monday with my race report.

Falling

2007-08-02T21:51:00.001-04:00

Today I went out for my 45' easy bike ride. I didn't feel like riding, but I ate some Clif Shot Blocks with caffeine and they seemed to work. This is a recovery week, so there are no group rides. When I ride alone, I usually drive to the Mt. Vernon trail not far from my house, but I got in the wrong lane of traffic and ended up heading a different direction. I started riding about a mile north of my usual starting spot. I've been getting bored with that ride, so I took off in a different direction.

I ended up riding in an area of town I frequently drive home through. I was at a corner waiting for the light to turn green. There was a ton of traffic, a bicyclist on the corner diagonally from me and a not bad looking guy waiting to cross in my direction. I was getting ready to go, when, for no good reason I leaned the wrong way and fell.

Normally standing is not a challenge for me, but in this case my left foot was clipped in and I didn't get it out in time to catch myself. I wasn't moving, wasn't trying to move, wasn't getting ready to move-nothing. I just fell. Idiot. The light turned green and I was laying in the street. The biker stopped to ask if I was ok and I just waved him off. I was fine, just embarrassed. The drivers were all gawking, horns were honking and there I was trying to get my foot unclipped so that I could stand. I managed to extricate myself from the mess only to stand up face-to-face with the good looking guy from across the way. Now I'm mortified. Here I am trying to look like I know what I'm doing with my fancy bike, cool bike shorts and techy clipless pedals and I can't even stand up.

I rode for another 20 minutes and headed home when the blood started to drip down my leg. I'm such a dork. I knew I shouldn't have ridden today.

My First Race

2007-07-31T22:42:00.000-04:00

I did my first complete race on June 11, 2006 in Yorktown Virginia and finished. Really, that was my only goal going in, to finish. However, as I was battling my way through really choppy water during the swim, I added a second goal-to make it out of the water without a boat. The water was cold and salty and I wasn't wearing a wetsuit. That left me in the unfortunate position of shivering and sinking. That's not really a good combination with all of the nerves that I had going too. I managed to make it though and onto shore of my own power.

The first transition (T1) was uneventful. I don't remember much, it was a year ago.

The bike leg doesn't strike any significant memories for me either. I raced on a mountain bike that was about 10 years old, rusty as anything and weighed a ton. I had the foresight to take it in for a quick tune-up, but I think when the thing is that old and worn down, a tune-up just prolongs the inevitable. It was hard being passed by so many people with super-light, I-can-carry-this-bike-with-my-pinky-finger riders, but in the end, I rode the only way I knew how, slow.

Same thing for T2. No memories. Except that if you look at my overall rank for that portion of the race, I did really, really, well. I guess I'm good at one thing-getting off my bike and walking.

On my way out for the run, I added a third goal- to beat the really big girl up the hill. (I feel comfortable saying that as I consider myself a big girl too.) On the way back from the run, I added a fourth goal- to cross the finish line ahead of the 80-year old lady next to me. We chatted a bit on the way in, but pride got the better of me and I just couldn't bear cross the line with her anywhere near me, so I ran (yes, really) and crossed the finish line alone.

My final times were:
Swim 750 meters 28:24 rank 101/115
T1 5:01 rank 96/115
Bike 13.5 miles 1:14:13 rank 111/115
T2 1:16 rank 62/115
Run 3.1 miles 44:46 rank 109/115
Overall 2:33:38 and placed 108 out of 115 female racers. I placed 8 out of 8 in my division.
Here's a link to my results: http://www.setupevents.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=event_results&id=333

Goals:
Primary-To Finish-DONE!
Second-Get out of the water on my own-DONE!
Third-Beat the big girl up the hill-DONE!
Fourth-Beat the 80-year old-DONE!

Looking back at those goals makes me seem like I was gunning for the underdog, but when you're sweating, tired, hungry and just want to sit down, you've got to take whatever motivation comes your way. I'm sure that I was someone's big girl to beat up the hill too. All in all, it was a great race and I had a great time.