Mary: IronMatron

You Gotta Have Faith

2012-02-06T14:30:00.000-08:00

Having a good race doesn't just happen. There's a recipe for good racing, and usually the ingredients need to be in place and mixed correctly in order for the race to come out right.

You need to train adequately, if not exceptionally.
You need to fuel correctly before and during the race.
You need to go into the race fresh, tapered, and not having been sick in the week leading up to the race.
You need to pace the race intelligently--based on how you have been running in training recently, as opposed to how you want to have been running recently.
You need to have faith.
You need to have fight.
While racing, your faith and fight cannot waver for longer than a millionth of a second before you put them back into their correct place.
You need to wear the right socks.

Some races pleasantly surprise you, and even if all the ingredients aren't in place you come out with something pretty appetizing. But then sometimes just one ingredient is missing, and the whole race goes rancid.

I raced yesterday. I didn't have all those ingredients in place. In fact, looking at this homespun list, I actually think none of the ingredients were in place. Still, I secretly hoped for a good outcome. You never know when the recipe is going to just randomly work--even if you didn't follow the directions, right?

(Are you sick of this analogy yet? Me too. I'll can it now. It's just become less than appetizing. I cant stomach it anymore!)

Anyway.

Here's what's interesting: even if you know the ingredients aren't in place, if you're like me, you're still disappointed when the result isn't spectacular. I'm sure this disappointment is annoying to those people who must deal with me and my whining. Nevertheless, I feel the need to foist my disappointment on said people (read Andy, Kurt, Ange...) AND you out there in Bloggy-Land! Sorry guys.

Just to annoy you further, I will itemize my lack of proper ingredients/preparation for this race. I will start at the top of my special list, and work my way down.

1. I have been training. I have been getting in all my workouts, with focus and as prescribed. So that is good. The only problem is my training has been focused on building a very solid foundation for my IM this summer. It hasn't been focused on racing a 10 mile road race.

2. I had two bowls of Wheat Chex with raisins before the race, which isn't perfect, but for me, it's fine, because it is akin to what I eat before many of my morning workouts. My problem was in forgetting to bring water or sport drink with me to the race. I actually felt thirsty during warm up, which is never a good sign. When I got in from warm-up I went into what I thought was Ange's stuff and took a big swig from her water bottle. Some guy looked at me really strangely while I did this. Later I learned that Ange had no idea who the water bottle belonged to.

oops.

I had a gel before the run. Without water. I brought a gel with me to take at mile 6, also, but then mile 6 came and went and I didn't take it.
Bad move.
I also took in no water or sport drink during the race.
Why did I fail to take in any sugar or drink during the race? I'm not sure. Self sabotage perhaps. Maybe just race-induced stupidity. Maybe both. I think my reasoning was that I shouldn't need much in a 70 minute race. This is true. But I know me... and I do need something in a 70 minute, all-out race.

3. It's a luxury to be fresh and tapered for any race but your A race, in my opinion. I don't expect to be fully rested in a race that is just "for fun" and I also know that even when I'm not fully rested I can often pull out a pretty result IF I have the right mind-set. Not this time.

4. I wanted to run sub 7s. I have done nothing close to sub 7 in my training recently, however, save during a few well-placed, down-hill strides. I did take the race out in sub 7. That was pretty much the only mile that was at that pace, however. Again,I should be clear. Just because I had not been training in the sub 7's doesn't mean I couldn't run that pace.
But I didn't run that pace, and I guess that's all there is to say about that.

Okay. I have finally arrived at what I want to write about! Took me long enough.

When you have a race that doesn't go as well as you'd hoped it would, you often learn something. Here's what I learned in this race:

You Gotta Have Faith. (Thanks be to George Michael.) I knew this before the race, but I learned it anew when reflecting on why the race didn't go very well.

Whether you have prepared appropriately or not, you MUST have faith that you can race hard and do well, NO. MATTER.WHAT. If you allow yourself to detail the reasons you shouldn't race well (as I have done so above) you will sabotage your race before you even hit your first quarter mile. In my opinion, the reason to prepare well for a race by adhering to the principles of good racing prep is, ironically, less about your actual preparation and more about knowing you have done what you needed to do. What does it take for YOU to believe you can race well? A good taper? A good breakfast? A pair of good luck socks? Does it matter?
No. What matters is that you believe. You must believe that you can crush the race, and you must not allow anything to puncture holes in that faith.

Going into this race I did not have faith. Maybe I had good reasons not to have faith, but what I want to make clear is that I truly believe the reason I did not race well has mostly to do with this lack of faith--and not my lack of race preparation. I raced poorly before I even took my first step on the course, because I did not believe I would race well.

Linked closely to faith is fight. During the race, even in a sprint that lasts under a minute, there will be moments that your faith gets shaken. For me, it first happened at mile 2 when my super- fast friend Stacy, silently and with assurance, passed me, and didn't look back. She had the faith. And her faith rocked my faith... which was barely in existence in the first place. A wave of hopelessness passed over me, and I did not fight it.

You must fight it. The minute your faith lapses you must see it for its ugly self, and you must hammer it back into submission. I often find that getting angry helps. WTF! I see you Stacy! I'm going to get you! Let's go, body! Let's go! And welling inside me I can feel the fight and the faith return. On Sunday, however, because my faith was so lacking, I could not, or would not, fight. I let Stacy go. And she went on to crush the race, and I went on to fall further and further behind her.

And so that is what I learned. Whether you are ready to race or not, you better come equipped with faith and fight. If that's not in place.... why bother?

I must pat myself on the back for the moments my faith and fight did show up during this race. When I could conjure it I did have stretches of running relatively well, and the result was that I eked out a 1:12... which isn't a PR, not even close, but is respectable enough (for me) not to want to hide myself under a rock. And today I went to the pool and tore up 3800 yards to make up for the stretches of faithlessness that soured my race yesterday.

And now I'm hungry to race again and make all this lack of faith and fight shit right again. You really do get something out of your bad races, you know?

You may note I did not yet reflect on the final ingredient on my list: sock choice. Perhaps not quite as important as faith and fight, sock choice is something to think carefully about prior to racing.

For this race I chose to wear my Sock Guy Donut Socks.

I selected them because they matched my current running/racing shoes, which are black and pink. However, they are not good luck socks, and this is where I went wrong. I have used them in training and I have never run well in them. I'm quite sure it's subliminal. The donuty mindset is one of sugary indulgence. Really... is that what I was aiming for on Sunday? I think not.

Better to wear tried and true socks... like my Speed Socks, which have proven repeatedly to be good luck when training and racing and also send an appropriate, if somewhat sassy, subliminal message to my legs.

My cat socks may have been another sound choice. Though still relatively new, these socks have proved themselves worthy of racing after allowing me to perform very well in several recent workouts. They are also fun and attaching grabbing... which is always good, I believe. Of course, neither my speed nor my cat socks matched my black and pink shoes, which was obviously extremely problematic.

Probably the best choice would have been my Gnomies, which matched somewhat, since they are black, and which have provided me with great luck recently when biking outside. Plus, I just like the idea that I am racing with my Gnomies...

My point is only that a final thing to think carefully about before you race is the sock that will both match your shoes/outfit, provide you with good luck and send an appropriate subliminal message to your legs and body. Such things cannot be overlooked. You can be sure I won't make the Donut sock mistake again.

Race on.

How You Know You are Getting OLD

2012-02-02T08:18:00.000-08:00

An easy way to determine this is to simply look at your next birthday fast approaching. If you're like me, you no longer cherish you birthday. Or I should say, in the first moment you think on your birthday you experience a certain warmth, followed by an almost immediate bittersweet wave of angst. Another year bites the dust. And yes, you were alive, kicking, and attempting to listen to it in reverse when that classic song hit number 1 on Casey Kasem's American Top 40. Am I right?

Yep. You're old.

There are other ways to determine you are getting on in years--a few uplifting, but mostly extremely depressing. Recently Alina and I, over cups of hot coffee and scrambled eggs, discussed qualities that manifest as one ages, and came up with a list to share with you. Here it is. I'm sure you could add a few good ones to this list. Please feel free to do so in your comments.

How You Know You are Getting Really Fucking Old

1. After a morning swim you look in the mirror and witness goggle marks so deep you know you will spend the day explaining that NO, you are not extremely tired or sick. You just have permanent indentations in your eyeball sockets from wearing goggles. And no, you don't wear them too tightly. It's just because you are OLD.

2. You look in the mirror and notice that you are growing sideburns, and you are a woman.

3. You constantly are on the verge of throwing out your back. Or you neck. Or your knee. And then you must discuss this fact ad nauseum with anyone who will listen--most likely another old person who knows what you are going through and can compete and compare with his own old people ailments.

4.While sitting in a work meeting your brush your hand to your chin and feel a CHIN hair. You begin to panic. Is it long? Is it black? You notice yourself covering your chin with your hand and excusing yourself to go to the lavatory so you can pluck that mother fucker out. right. now. Yep, getting old.

5. You begin to think that drinking Metamucil on a daily basis is actually a very good idea.

6. You carry a really tacky dog purse.
Exhibit A.

(This was Alina's, naturally, in reference to my lovely purse choice of recent months.)
More accurately, you no longer give a rip if someone--anyone--thinks you're a tool for carrying the bag you carry, the shoes you wear, the brand of your jeans you have on etc and so on. In fact, you relish carrying a tacky dog purse because you spent so many years caring way too much about that stupid fashion shit.

7. You find yourself buying ridiculously expensive facial creams and half believing that they will make you look younger if you just stick to the "regime" described by the skin "clinician".

8. You develop bunions. And they are really ugly. And they make it hurt to wear funky cowboy boots or sexy heels, or really any attractive, made for a young-person-without-bunions type shoe. So you wear slippers or clogs. And that's it. Even at work.

9. You find a white pubic hair.

10. You knick yourself shaving and it takes three weeks to heal.

11. You appear to be developing elephant knees.

12. You go into a room, wonder why you are there, leave the room, remember what you needed, return to the room, forget why you are there. And so on.

13. You continually find skin tags in odd places like in your arm pit or by your left ear.

14. Staying up late means you are up past 10 p.m. on a weekend night.

15. You fall sound asleep at 9 pm. and awake at 2:30 a.m. You don't fall asleep again until 5:30 a.m. Fifteen minutes later your alarm goes off and it it's time to start the day.

16. You drive a minivan. And your second car is a Prius.

17. You worry those night sweats you are having are the first stage of menopause and not just because your husband throws the covers off himself and onto you in the middle of the night.

18. Going out for drinks with the girls actually means meeting them at 6:30 pm on a Tuesday evening at a local restaurant in the burbs, having one glass of wine and dinner, and returning home by 9:00 p.m.

19. You look at your hands and think, Wow. Those are old people hands.

20. You thank those who card you profusely, and say things like, Oh, You don't have to do that. So thoughtful... And you find yourself frequenting the establishment just in the hopes that said carding will happen again.

21. Everything you remember from your high school and college days is now considered "retro".

22. You have forsaken plucking out white hairs in favor of just dying your whole damn head. Enough already. The white has won.
++++++++++++++++++++
Okay. Enough of that.
Here is my training update:
I have been training.
Some days I feel uber confident. Somedays I feel like I should just throw in the towel, get fat, and can this IM stuff.
But I keep trucking along, hoping I will see the IM result on 7/22 that I so desperately want and have worked for these last few years.
Old lady or not.

Why Swimming Training is Important in Tri

2012-01-27T11:48:00.000-08:00

My vow for 2012 (or one of them) was to blog more consistently.

You'd think I'd learn after 41.5 years on this planet that making any kind of resolution, especially one dictated on January 1, will result in FAIL. Had I not made that commitment I likely would have posted every day for the last month.

Anyway.

I wanna write about swimming.
And triathlon.
And how so many triathletes create reasons why blowing off swim training in favor of other training, or even in favor of no training, makes sense.

I, for one, have had enough of this view. Enough! Triathlon consists of three athletic disciplines, and one of them is swimming. If you don't like to swim, or you don't want to train the swim, or even if you don't have the time to swim because you need to spend every ounce of your limited free time on the bike and run, become a duathlete and shut the fuck up.

What follows is my diatribe against the powers that believe swim training is expendable. My arguments are based in logic, not research, so are easily attack-able. Still, I'm right. Just saying.

It might be true that no one ever won a triathlon by crushing the swim portion of a triathlon (although I think I could argue that, in fact, some races HAVE been won on the swim--(namely by Angela Bancroft, ranked number 4 in her AG this year by USAT, btw... ). It is also true, however, that races have been lost on the swim. (I lost a sprint just last year because an ITU girl out-swam me, for example. Although I posted faster times than she did on the bike and run, I was never able to catch her after my mediocre swim and her devastatingly fast one.) So to those of you who are blowing off the swim in your training, I say get your scrawny little running and biking heinies over to the pool, or you will be one of those losers. I promise.

Here are the arguments against swimming:

Reason #1:
You swim for like an hour--maybe 1.5 hours in a long course tri.
You bike for like 5+ hours.
You run for like 3+ hours.
Hence, you should spend far less time training the swim (or no time, according to some) than the bike and the run.

Reason #2:
If you are a 1:15 or faster swimmer for IM, you probably won't get much faster even if you train the swim very hard and consistently. (I'm not sure where this reasoning originated, but it seems quite popular...)The possible time gain on IM day is not worth the training hours put in to achieve that time gain.

Reason #3:
Swimming is all technique. You don't need fitness to swim fast--you just need "to be efficient in the water." Therefore, you should spend limited time in the pool, and when you are there, you should only work on your technique.

There are probably other stated reasons to blow off swim training. However, I think these are the most common arguments triathletes use to justify it.

Here's why the aforementioned reasons are total bullshit:

1. Okay, this one isn't total bullshit. You should spend more time training the bike and run (especially the bike) than the swim. Most long course triathletes I know (who believe in swimming) swim between 3-5 hours a week, and usually not longer than that. Most of these same triathletes spend considerably more than 3-5 hours each week on the bike and run, however. That said, if you are racing long course and only logging about 3000-4000 yards of slog each week, or worse, somehow justifying not swimming at all, you can be quite sure your swim will suck come race day.

Long course racing is about persevering over fatigue. The training we do serves to condition both our bodies and minds to deal with the exhaustion of going and going and going.... The goal is to make it to each leg of the race still completely intact and ready to meet the demands of the remaining part of the race. The swim only lasts between 1-2 hours for nearly all long course athletes, but the amount of energy you expend on the swim directly affects the energy you have in reserve for the bike and run. Of course it does! If you swim minimally in training you go into the swim portion of the race both physically and mentally under-prepared to swim hard for an hour +. You exit the water battered, bruised, exhausted and with a shit swim time to boot. Conversely, if you spend even just 3 hours a week training the swim year round, you can be assured that you will have the confidence and the stamina to insure your swim is of little consequence in terms of fatigue expenditure. You want to come out of the water feeling like your swim was just a blip--a little warm up to the rest of the day. If you don't train the swim then that is NOT how you will experience the swim on race day. Don't feed me bullshit about how this is not true... I don't care who you are or what kind of a swimmer you are. If you don't do any work on your swim, the swim will kick your ass, and you will prematurely exhaust yourself before 8 am on race day.

What I think is funny is that you never hear the argument that you should bike and run in favor of the swim from swimmers turned triathletes. Swimmers know that to swim even slightly fast you need to spend TONS of time in the water.

Let's compare Michael Phelps and Kara Goucher in terms of training time.
Phelps, according to most sources, swims an average of 8 miles a day (13,200 yards), 50 miles a week (about 80,000) yards and spend more than 30 hours a week training. Phelps swims many events, but his longest event is usually the 400 meter IM. The 400 meter IM--for Phelps--lasts just over FOUR MINUTES. Yet he trains 30 hours a week. Of course, he is also expected to swim many events, all out, in any given meet. That requires a stamina that requires extensive training for sure.

Now let's take Goucher. From what I could find, Goucher runs between 110-120 miles per week for a total of 11-13 hours of run time. She also does Pilates and strength work, which brings her weekly training up to, at most, 18-20 hours per week. Yet Goucher's longest event? 2 hours and 25 minutes. So Goucher trains at least 33% fewer hours per week on her discipline than Phelps does on his, but she spends 36 TIMES more time running during her key event than Phelps does competing in his. Don't you find that interesting? And what do you think it says about volume needed to swim well versus volume need to run well??

And, of course, running is much harder on the body than swimming. She can't spend as much time logging miles as Phelps can/does logging meters.
But wait, did you just read that?
Could it be that perhaps we should be spending MORE TIME IN the pool building sport specific aerobic and upper body strength, b/c we simply can't spend that much time on the run without risking injury? And is it also possible that swim training requires a much higher ratio of training to racing time in order to achieve at a high level than running does? Methinks... perhaps....

Okay, onto negating reason #2.
I'm not sure who decided that 1:15 was the magic number, but some folks seem to believe that if you can swim an open water 2.4 mile swim in 1:15 or faster, you won't make any more significant gains in terms of swim speed unless you log a lot more time. That time, the time it would take to make you faster than 1:15, would be better spent training the bike or the run. The reasoning, it seems, is that if you don't spend extra time swimming you can MAINTAIN that 1:15. You then put that extra time toward the bike and run, resulting in a gain of speed in those two disciplines.

Here's the problem. You can't just maintain a 1:15 when you don't swim enough. Let me explain. If you finish in 1:15, I'm sorry, you are not a "swimmer." You may have swam when you were a kid on a rec team, or you may have worked steadily to improve a swim you learned as an adult. But if you swam competitively through high school, and definitely if you swam through college, you can complete an IM swim in much, much faster than 1:15. It is possible that a swimmer with a competitive background who can swim sub one hour with solid swim training might be able to get away with limited swim training and complete an IM swim in 1:05 or so. (This does not take into consideration the amount of fatigue--fatigue that would affect the bike and run--accrued in doing so, of course.) However, an adult who does not have a competitive background in swimming who has improved her/his swim to a 1:15 per sheer work and will, will bomb the IM swim without continuous proper swim training. This is because they do not have that competitive background (read experience) in the sport, and hence have no foundation from which to draw. Without consistent training to maintain it, that 1:15 devolves quickly into a 1:25--or a 1:35-- or slower. And last I checked there were very few athletes on the podium with swims that slow... even if their bikes and runs did rock the house.

Finally, reason #3.
If you are a part of a masters group that has a coach who WATCHES you swim day in and out, then you might make improvements in your swim technique. You also might make improvements if you take the time to study swim videos online and bring that visual knowledge to your training, and try to implement it. However, I can pretty much guarantee that if you do drills to improve your technique--alone--with no one watching to critique you--you are wasting your time. People who swim well have worked for years on both their fitness AND their technique, but they have done so with the help of a coach, or a group, or careful study. If you don't have a coach or you aren't studying online videos of excellent swimmers, your technique will not improve. Developing better swim technique requires time--and if you are blowing off swimming in favor of the bike and run, well obviously you are not doing that, right? That said, you can have excellent technique but still be slow if you don't develop any swim fitness. Granted, you won't be as slow as the person who has no technique at all, even if said person swims daily, but still, like ANY sport you need swim fitness (not bike or run fitness) to SWIM well.

I think what bothers me most about the swim less movement is that grounded within it is the idea that there might be a short cut to becoming a competitive IMer.
There's not.
You know it. I know it.
Swimming builds your upper body strength, it develops aerobic fitness without stressing joints, and most importantly, it is a PART of triathlon and triathlon training. If you're looking to try to get the most bang for your buck in terms of training time, don't fall prey to the idea that a half hour more spent on the bike each week will translate into a better race time than a half hour that SHOULD be spent on the swim. It won't.

I'm Onto You...

2012-01-16T14:37:00.000-08:00

I figured it out. You husbands are all so busted, because with this blog post I am exposing you! All of you!

My husband has a saying: “Nothing gets done until after the THIRD trip to Home Depot.” It reflects his irritation at the seemingly inevitable pattern of going to Home Depot to get supplies for his project, coming home and realizing he needs to go back for something else, returning home again and realizing he needs ONE MORE CRITICAL nut/bolt/tool to finish the job. This same kind of hassle has probably happened to you, whether it is Home Depot, the grocery store or some other place, so I’m sure you get it. His saying conveys the annoyance and a certain fatalism about the whole pattern, perhaps along with a tiny little tinge of “Look how much hassle I go through on your behalf.” Fair enough. I sure do appreciate everything he does around here and I certainly appreciate the hassle of those lengthy, repeated trips and all that comes of that hard work. These are whole afternoons he is giving up, after all.

Except that it’s BS. You know it. I know it. He knows it.

He’s escaping. He’s hiding. He’s taking off to avoid dealing with the kids and leaving me to endure the chaos. Those stands he built for the washer and dryer? Avoidance. The new sink he plumbed in the basement (for the laundry)? Escapism. What about the spectacular shed he built from scratch in the backyard? Nice, but 2 years and 97 Home Depot trips later, he has far fewer gray hairs than I do.

As I count and pluck those gray hairs in the bathroom, I have reflected deeply on the suspicious signals. Fact: Sometimes he is gone for hours. Can you really spend hours in Home Depot? What do you do, wander the aisles? Fact: Sometimes he comes home empty-handed, muttering about how he couldn't find exactly what he needed. Fact: Sometimes he comes home with exactly what he needs for a project... as if, perhaps, to quell my suspicion that something is indeed seriously awry with this Home Depot thing.

And so, like the dutiful and suspicious wife I am, I did my research and I am now officially ready to blow the cover on this Home Depot ruse. That's right! I've got your number!

Through a combination of private investigation, GPS, and an active imagination, I’ve figured it out. There is a place at Home Depot where only men are allowed. You (my sisters) and I have never been. Entrance can only be gained if you are married and have a Y chromosome. He goes there, I know he does, and your significant other probably does too. Yes, he does. Stop crying and face the truth.

Perhaps you’ve gone to Home Depot with your spouse and perhaps you’ve lost track of him there for a few minutes. Did you see him duck into the closet and shelving aisle? Like he gives a S—T about home organization! He walks 10 paces, turns a hard left, and steps into one of those crappy, particleboard and laminate wardrobes he tried to give you for your birthday a few years back. And he closes the door behind him. And time stops.

Once inside the wardrobe he takes a few steps through darkness and…voila—it’s ClubHD! Women. Beer. Football games. About a thousand big screen TVs with a live picture-in-picture in the lower corner showing you struggling at home with the kids. (Or ignoring them and writing a blog post.) The men are all laughing. This is not Narnia, girls. Or, if it is, there are about a hundred White Witches and they’re not wearing anything that would get them through an eternal winter.

There are three rooms in ClubHD: The Happy Beginnings Room, The Happy Middles Room, and the Happy Endings Room. Massage and manscaping; food, beer, and TV; and more “massage”. All while being attended by a bunch of young chippies who are all smarter, funnier and have bigger racks than you.

Starting to make sense, isn’t it? Starting to come together, huh? Yes, yes it is.

In the corner of the first room a guy sits on a commode, taking a dump while some chick massages his back and shoulders. As if she weren't even there, he narrates his dump to a bunch of guys who are also taking dumps and getting back rubs. For HOURS. They're laughing, he's laughing. Even the chippies are laughing. Good times. At home, my daughter throws a 100 gigawatt tantrum because I won't let her wear a tshirt outside in 20-degree weather.

In the second room, the men rest. And dine. And drink and watch TV and laugh. About the dumps they took. Food, fun and friends! Spectacular memories, to be shared amongst each other for a lifetime! Alas, it, too, is taxing eventually and after another several hours they migrate to the third room, presumably to recover from their efforts in the first and second rooms.

Listen, if you think I sound bitter about it you’re missing the point. I know a thing or two about escapism and avoidance. We all need a little. Granted, my escape is usually to the basement to do more laundry. Sniff. Or to the garden to pull more weeds so our house looks presentable. Sniff, sniff. Or for a run. Or a swim. Or a bike. Or all three. But, still, you’d think in that third room they could at least take one of Home Depot’s vaunted How-To-Do-It-At-Home seminars on….oh, forget it! I just want him to get home at be with the kids. So I can go out for my 6-hour bike ride. Now.

A Few Book Reviews--!

2012-01-14T07:56:00.000-08:00

I have read two books in the last week that I want to write about: The Primal Blueprint by Mark Sisson and The Athletes' Guide to Recovery by Sage Rountree. I found both books helpful. I also found both books somewhat frustrating--Sisson because of his often righteous tone and also his lack of footnotes, which would've helped me buy into his theories just a tad more than I felt willing to do, and Rountree's simply because she failed to tell me anything I didn't already know (which, I realize, is not a fault, but I still was frustrated by it). Still, I enjoyed reading both books--and more importantly I came away newly committed to eating better and recovering better--neither currently a strength for me.

Mark Sisson is a former endurance runner who--bottom line--had an epiphany and changed his life. At one point in his life he logged 100+ mile weeks and was frequently injured, though at this time he was also quite successful as a professional runner. Then he stopped that crazy shit and reinvented himself as a health guru--and then later as a paleo health guru.

His book mostly focuses on eating. He writes convincingly about the evils of refined carbs--or really any carbs other than fruit and vegetables. He emphasizes that excess insulin surges (brought on by carb intake) are the true culprit behind heart disease, obesity and general poor health. He encourages readers to eat what our hunter gatherer ancestors ate: nuts, seeds, local fruits and vegetables (organic) and free-range, organic meats, fish and eggs. One should strictly limit alcohol, dairy, breads etc and should eliminate entirely refined carbohydrates. Yep. Heard it before, and I do buy into it, even though I have been unsuccessful in my bid to eliminate refined carbs, and definitely have failed to eliminate bread, which I use as a vehicle for my nut butter addiction.

One thing that Sisson's book made me reflect upon, though he doesn't get into it at all, is the intake of gels, sport drink and other packaged products I use for fuel during training and racing. I'm a pragmatist to some extent, and I see the use of these types of fuels as smart and practical because they work. When working out one needs intake of easily absorbed sugars, sodium and other electrolytes, and certainly gels, shots and sports drink supply these things well. But when you train as much as most of us reading this blog do, you start to ponder the fact that these packaged sugar/electrolyte/synthetic "foods" have become a staple of your daily eating. I work out between 1-3.5 hours a day currently, and as I approach race season some of those days become 6-7 hour workout days. This means I am taking in sports drink and gels at such a fast rate that I must order the shit in bulk.

Case in point--my shelves dedicated to fueling:

Granted, I share these shelves with my also training spouse (eg--I am not a fan of chocolate GU or Accelerade) but still, you know you consume a lot a lot a lot of packaged energy products when you needs shelves devoted to them...

And the question is--can I, and do I need to, find alternatives to these products given I train year round and hence consume them daily? I think the answer is yes. I have been experimenting with Lara Bars for some time (just pressed fruit and nuts) and they work quite well--still high in carbs, but the carbs are from the sugar in real fruit. I also have been drinking coconut water (usually chocolate, Zicco). This is also good, but heavier, and not as quick acting as a simple sport drink. I'm interested in your thoughts on this. Comment if you have ideas or things that have worked for you. I know that gels/shots and sport drink work the best. They are designed to. I'm just worried about my long term health in consuming them in such huge quantity.

Sisson also talks about sleep, and this was another helpful chapter. We all know we need more sleep--especially parents,who seem to get, well, none--. When you have to get to work or get the kids to school by 8:00 am your workouts need to start at the latest by 6 am--and often much earlier. If you want some time with your spouse or with your snugly computer after you get the kids to bed, then you usually get to bed too late for such an early rising. And, Sisson points out, the alarm that rudely awakens you out of a sound and needed slumber causes a daily cortisol spike that is also gravely unhealthy. Of course, I don't have an answer of how to rectify this. I need and want to train... I have kids... I work...

But Sisson does have an answer. Can the excessive working out.

The dude clearly has a bone to pick with endurance training and racing. He describes endurance triathletes on more than one occasion as emaciated, drawn, unhealthy,and racing to the grave.
I must admit I take his diatribe against endurance athletes as bitter resentment because the lifestyle did not, apparently, work for him. He believes endurance racing causes early aging and poor health, but he has little data to support this theory. It is true that often endurance triathletes and runners look older (in their faces) than others their age, but this is often, I believe, because of constant sun exposure throughout their lives, and also because when you are thinner, you show your age (in your face) in a way you don't when you are plump. But does this mean that endurance athletes are physically less healthy and aging more quickly than others their age? No, I doubt it very seriously, and he does not have the data to support his assertion that this is the case, either. Further, I believe endurance athletes, aside from in their faces, belie their years when you look at their lean, strong, youthful-looking bodies. What is perhaps most shocking is when you are biking behind someone in a race, and she looks so young and fit, and then you pull alongside her, see her face, and realize she is likely in her 50s or 60s. The machine that is the body has been preserved--and that is amazing, and certainly not worthy of Sisson's disdain and disapproval.

His method of getting beautifully fit is to constantly be on the move like our hunter gatherer ancestors. You shouldn't work hard... just move. And sometimes sprint, and lift heavy stuff for only 10 minutes at a time a few times a week. I don't disagree with this. Moving is certainly a far better alternative than not moving. Still, I am pissed that he is so dismissive of the "ignorant" masses who have bought into the idea that working out above 80% of your max hr is wise or useful in maintaining health and fitness. Sisson will have to find (any) research(aside from his own personal experience) to support this argument before I buy into it, that is for sure.

Okay. Onward to Rountree's book! I like her tone, I like her message, I like the structure of her book and her use of actual research to support her thoughts. However, I experienced the book as simply a compilation of known material,which isn't bad--it just wasn't particularly illuminating. I had hoped to learn something new--or to have the material synthesized in a way that I would come away with something new. But I did not. This likely has more to do with the fact that I am an endurance coach, and hence constantly reading about important aspects of training, like recovery, than it has to do with the success of her text.

I was reminded, however, that recovery is a key aspect of training. I think most of us still subscribe to the more is better and no pain no gain philosophies. And you know... more IS better and there really IS no gain without some pain. It's just that sometimes more becomes too much, and pain, especially without ample recovery, can be destructive. Further, we are aging. Most of us reading this are not in our late teens and early twenties any longer. The simple truth is that as we age we need more recovery, and denial of this fact leaves us injured, burnt out, and with declining race performances.

I need this message more than anyone. Doing more and making it hurt are strategies I use to make me feel confident that I am going to be better than YOU. So in the end, reading, and re-reading a text like Rountree's is valuable. I need to be reminded.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Ahh... The New Year

2012-01-03T14:19:00.000-08:00

Racing Highlights of 2011 (with a few other 2011 LIFE highlights mixed in):

January: After some whining and begging, Kurt agreed to coach me. I think he figured I would likely never leave him alone in my quest for his advice anyway, so I might as well pay him for it.

February. Andy, me and the kiddos went to Orlando with my parents and visited the PARKS! We spent oodles of money and waited in really really really long lines . But it was still super fun. I ran every day in shorts. That was also really awesome.

March: I ran the Quincy Half Marathon and PR'd with a 1:30:59. This was a rather humongous PR and I was pretty happy about the whole thing. (Thanks, Kurt.)

April: I ran the Boston Marathon and PR'd with a 3:15:54. This was another rather humongous PR and I was again pretty happy about the whole thing; maybe even MORE than happy. (Thanks, Kurt.)

May: I raced the Sudbury Sprint and finished 2nd overall behind some 19-year-old ITU chick dressed in a Worlds unitard which had her name scrawled on her butt. (And no, I don't remember her name. I have repressed it.) Even though I lost, I raced fairly well given sprinting isn't exactly a strength o' mine. I won a Fuel Belt and gave it to Jordan, who now wears it for her five minute + "long runs" around the neighborhood.

June: I raced Mooseman 70.3 and had a seriously kick ass race, finishing in 5:06 and placing 3rd in my AG. This wasn't a PR for the distance, but the new bike course is so hard I considered it one. Moose, in retrospect, was definitely my best race of this season.
At the end of June I turned 41 and went to Lake Placid with Ange and friends for an IMLP camp. That was fun. and hard. I'm going back this year... but this year I am co-running the camp instead of just participating. Can't wait to take a dip in Mirror Lake.... (and not barf).

July: I got a stomach flu five days out from racing IMLP. I felt better by race day, but the weight I lost that week and the weakness from being sick still affected my race--big time--as did my anxiety about being sick and my anxiety surrounding my mega-desire to qualify for Kona. I barfed once on the swim, twice on the bike, and then did some record-breaking booting on the run course. I did my best to hang in there, though, and finished well enough to finish 5th AG. The Gods of Triathlon rewarded me for my sufferfest (or rather the two girls who decided not to take their Kona slots did) and I snagged a spot to Kona in rolldown. (Thank Michelle and Sylvie for saying NO to Kona, and thank you Stacey for being such a kick ass triathlete that you qualified before IMLP at Oceanside.)

August: After committing to putting on some pounds after my pukish race at IMLP, I spent most of August drinking wine, lounging on the beach, and eating ice cream with Alina and our families in Ocean Park. In late August I went to Burlington with Andy and raced AG Nationals. A ton of my good tri friends were there, and so it was good time. I raced okay, placing 16th in my AG with a 2:20:39.

September. I raced the Pumpkinman Half and loved it. Mostly I loved it because I won money. That was very very very x a billion exciting and cool. I raced elite and finished behind greats Karen Smyes, Kim Webster and Lisbeth Kenyon, and got to stand on the podium with them, which made me feel like a super tri-stud. I also PR'd at the half distance in 4:52, which was a bonus.

October: I went to KONA! It was everything I had imagined it would be .. and then 10 x more than that, too. I had a great race. My family was there. I went to Lava Java every day. I hung out in the water with sea turtles. Life was good.

November. I sat on my ass and gained weight and stressed out over stupid shit and mourned that my Kona trip was in the past instead of the future.

December: I swam a 400 meter IM at the SCM championship at BU. I consider mysef a swimming stud now, as you should as well. (Notice I did not list my TIME for the 400 meter IM.) snort.

Well, that pretty much sums it up.
It was a good year of racing.
It was also a good year in other important ways such as:

Andy and I made it another year without killing each other or deciding to divorce.(five stars)
All of my children did mostly well in school and seem mostly happy and mostly still like to hug me when I require it of them. (five stars) Also, my kids are super cute and smart and this is a fact, in case you were wondering, not just my opinion. (five stars)
My dogs shit and piss on the floor LESS now than they did at the start of 2011. (two stars)
In 2011 we got a new refrigerator, a funky new coffee maker, a new blender, and a new washer and dryer that tolerate my habit of washing and then drying tens tons of laundry at once. It was a swell year for appliance acquisition. (three stars)
My two best friends put up with me and profess to love me still... 30 years into our friendship.(five stars)
Ange and I have grown the TriMoxie Biz quite a bit this year and our athletes have earned some pretty sweet race results. (five stars.)
I remained mostly sane and have needed only a few prescription drugs to keep me this way. (five stars.)

Bring on 2012! Happy New Year!

Swimming

2011-12-30T09:18:00.000-08:00

I love swimming. Except that I don't love it as much as running, and I don't value it as much as biking, and so it constantly gets the shirked. I have only been swimming twice a week lately, and although I have tried to make the workouts of true quality, two workouts is still just -- TWO workouts.

My big obsession is the fly. I want to be able to swim fly... on and on and on and on...
That is my new goal. And then I will swim a 200 fly in a meet.
Why is this important? Because only bad ass swimmers swim the 200 fly in meets! (and of course I want to be a bad ass swimmer...)

On Wednesday I went swimming with my super swimming studress daughter, Jordan, and she made us this workout:

1000 swim with every 4th length IM order
with fins : 2 x (100 free hard, 150 IM kick, streamline)
200 easy pull
200 fly--no stopping
4 x 300 as
1. pull with buoy, paddles-- easy/moderate
2. paddles, swim no buoy--moderate
3. paddles, fins, no buoy--moderate
4. fins-- hard
off 30" rest
100 cool down
3200 SCY

Though she tried to convince me to try, I decided to the 200 fly with fins. But the important thing is I DID NOT STOP. GO SUPER MARY!
But I did have fins.. Next time, I will try it without. Jordan did it without. Show-off.

____________________________________

My friend Son asked me to write a little piece for the MESC newsletter on what it is like for a triathlete to swim in a Championship Masters Swim Meet. Here is what I wrote. It is very exciting, so I thought I'd share it. :)
____________________________________

Just recently, on a balmy morning in early December, I gathered my swim garb together, got in the car with my MESC swimming companion, Alina Perez-Smith, and headed to Boston University for the Short Course Masters Swim Championship.

The plan: to shed my triathlete persona and play at being a swimmer for a day....
because, the thing is, I am not really a swimmer.

I am a long course triathlete and coach. As such, I swim, and I actually swim quite a bit. But swim meets are not my territory, and as much as I love them, swimmers are not my people. So I come to these championship meets as an outsider--an imposter--as a pseudo-swimmer playing in a world that is not my own. And I love it. I love it so much that sometimes attending a meet like this makes me--gasp--want to drop everything else and just swim.

All the big dogs come out for the big meets like this one, the SCM Masters Championship. And when I say big dogs? Yes, I mean big. Often, though not always, the best swimmers are huge--with broad shoulders and smooth, toned muscles. Swimmers aren't wiry like many triathletes and runners. They are more lumbering than lithe, except when they hit the water. Then they are not just lithe, they are lightning--a blur of smooth, rhythmic, powerful body parts skimming the water. It is amazing to watch. Amazing.

At this meet I witnessed world records being broken. A MESC teammate, the ageless and gorgeous Diann Uustal, for example, broke the record in the 100 meter IM. Watching her swim the event in 1:20 was awe-inspiring. To swim that fast at 65? And I witnessed it!

The best part of these meets for me, aside from watching the real swimmers swim, is to hang out with the MESC team. Our Maine teammates are so humble, easy-going and down to earth. I love my triathlon peeps, but we are not really, well, humble, and most of us are more than a little Type A, not easygoing. Meets, unlike running events or triathlons, leave lots of time to socialize. A swimmer warms up, then races, then warms down, then waits a long time (usually) until her next event, and during this time she can socialize! I love this aspect of meets, as it turns them into social events as much as athletic events.

The one thing I haven't mentioned in my description of such a swim meet is the actual swimming! For me, swimming in this type of meet is always humbling. I consider myself a very competent swimmer--when among triathletes. But when around swimmers? Not so much! Unlike triathlons, in which athletes start in waves specific to their age group, swim meets do not distinguish the young from the old until the entire event is over. Heats are seeded by time, not age, and so in any given heat you could swim next to a 70-year-old on one side, and a 25-year-old the other. I am nearly always seeded in a very early heat, given my very mediocre times (compared to swimmers, that is...) and I nearly always place in the bottom portion of my AG when the results are tallied. I will say, though, that at this meet I chose to swim the 400 meter IM--my first 400 IM ever at a meet. And I placed 2nd in my AG! Of course, there were only two people in my AG, but who's counting.... right?

I have been a part of MESC for almost three years now. I can't tell you how lucky I feel to be able to experience these meets, and to compete with and for such a great group of people.

See you at Harvard in March! Go Blue Lobstahs!

Hustling

2011-12-21T07:19:00.000-08:00

“Things may come to those who wait… but only the things left by those who hustle.” - Abraham Lincoln

Today I continue on with my series of posts that take mid-life reflection (read crisis) as the theme....

I'm a hustler.

Saying I'm a hustler is nearly as bad as mentioning that I played hooker in college, isnt it?

Playing hooker allowed me to play aggressively in a big girl sport even though I'm a physically small person. The flaw in it: Once my neck almost snapped in the scrum while playing the (more adept, aggressive and large) Portland Women's Rugby Club and also, the sport fostered my already supremely developed collegiate drinking habit.

I abandoned playing hooker following college, which is probably good in terms of saving both my neck and my liver.

But I've never abandoned being a hustler. When I was younger I didn't always understand the most expedient way to get what I wanted--especially in terms of school and sport. It came most naturally to me in terms of the social: I wanted a certain friend, I would get her. I wanted a certain guy, I would go for it. I put fear aside. Who could say no to my wit and charm, right? As a result I met with some painful rejection, specifically on the guy front. But I also ended up getting what I wanted a lot of the time.

As I got older I began to understand, however, that hustling didn't just mean going for it by putting fear aside and taking the plunge. That was a big part of it, but the other part was to take immediate action--and then to follow up that action with hard, consistent work. Suddenly not just the social world was my domain. I could also get straight A's. I could get the job I wanted. I could run a marathon. I just had to take action, right now, and then work harder than everyone else and it was mine.

What I didn't realize at the time was that by hustling--by taking immediate action and following that action with ferocious and unrelenting work--I was also limiting my options. I couldn't do it all. I couldn't become an animal behaviorist and also a a teacher. I couldn't become an English professor and also a specialist in organizational psychology. I couldn't be a master gardener with a degree in horticulture and also a top age group triathlete. I couldn't be a published writer, and a voracious reader, and own a thriving coaching business and be a dog trainer who also owned fifteen different types of dogs. And I couldn't do any of the above, at least really really well, if I wanted to be a good, loving, focused, attentive mom and wife.

Being extraordinary at any one thing requires a willingness to take action, a will of steel, and a singular focus. I figured out early that the hustler got first choice, and if she backed that action up with work she could usually keep that choice. What I didn't realize is that the hustler still didn't get all she wanted--because in going for what she wanted she automatically limited all the other options in her single minded pursuit.

I tend to have the most admiration for people of have achieved greatness in one realm. Actually, I think this is a national preoccupation. But these most successful people, more than anyone, have limited their options, haven't they? No one achieves greatness without that singular focus. No one is at the top of the game without having sloughed off the extra weight that hinders progress. These people have had to be ruthless in their taking action at the expense of reflecting on other choices.

So.
To hustle. or not to hustle. To focus or diversify. What makes a person most happy? The satisfaction of achieving no matter what it takes, or the satisfaction of letting success go so you can enjoy more than just the pursuit of one, great thing?

Nothing like pondering these things when I could be taking action....

SCM Masters Championship RR

2011-12-16T11:15:00.000-08:00

The Short Course Meters Championship at Boston University.

MESC women Cheryl, Alina, Diann, Mary E.
World Record in the 200 Medley Relay (AG 200-239).

Every year at this time I wonder WHY I sign up for it. I'm in abysmal shape, I don't feel like racing, and the meet is in METERS as opposed to yards, and so the times mean very little to me (having been brought up on yards and all...)

But each year I sign up... and each year I remember why once I get there. I love my Maine Masters Peeps! And I love watching the really fine swimmers in the final heats of each event.

The swimming culture is so different than that of tri and running, and I love to occupy it for a day or two a year. With running and tri I am an insider. I live and breathe triathlon and running--and even though tri and running culture are slightly different, they are also kindred in many ways and I feel at home in each. The swimming culture is a different beast, though. Here is my analysis of swim versus tri and run culture.

There are few short and little people like me at swim meets. Swimmers are not little people. Swimmers are big and strong and muscular--but not really cut. (Well, some are cut... but most aren't chiseled like super fast triathletes and runners are.)
The pace of meets is slow, but the events within the meet, because they are almost all sprints, are fast.
You don't compete once in a meet like you do in tri and running. You warm up. You swim all out for a minute or two. You cool down. Then chill. Then warm up again. Then swim all out again. Then warm down again.Then chill--over and over again--all day. It is exhausting, but in a totally different way than say, an Ironman or a marathon.
In swimming, all ages compete together because individuals are seeded by time, and only later, after the competition, separated by age. In any given heat you could have a 21 year old and a 65 year old. The only things that matters in the seeding is your TIME.
Swimmers are a laid back bunch, but yet they are very serious about what they do. They are unassuming for the most part, and very modest, but the best swimmers are also supremely confident. There are very few flamboyant peacocky types in swimming.
Swimming, though people compete individually, is more of a team sport than running or triathlon. People come together to do relays in a meet, and the relays count (in terms of points) more than an individual event. People also really seem to CARE if their team wins or loses in swimming. It was a big deal for Maine to take back the trophy this year, for example.

So there is my assessment.

Onto the race report!

Hmmm. Not much to say here.

I swam events that have nothing to do with my swim in triathlon--and that choice was by design. I swam the 100 IM, the 400 IM and the 200 backstroke, and a 50 breaststroke in a medley relay for Maine.

No freestyle. No distance. As I mentioned earlier, I am in abysmal, off-season shape. No need to put salt in that wound and SEE exactly how out of shape I am in by swimming in an 800 or a 1650, huh?

Even though I am a triathlete, my best stroke is definitely not freestyle. My best stroke is backstroke with butterfly as a close second. Don't get me wrong: I am very very average in back and fly compared to real swimmers. But if you compare my times in each of the strokes, I am more competitive in back and fly than breast and free. My favorite event is the IM. My problem with the IM is only that I generally lead quite easily (against those who are my speed/level) through the backstroke, only to fall way behind in the breaststroke and to freestyle. It's a little sad to see every time I swim it...

The 100 IM was my first event. I was seeded pretty much exactly in the middle in terms of heats. I took it out HARD and had an awesome first 50, as per usual in the IM, and then I fell apart in the breast and free, also as per usual, and finished last in my heat. sigh. I swam a 40.05 for the first 50 and a 48.63 for the second 50. Of course, the first 50 was off the blocks... but still. 1:28.68 for a time. For those people (like me) who need a time translation to yards to have that mean anything, I basically took the first 50 out in the equivalent time of a :35 and then brought it home in :43--for a time of about a 1:18 converted into yards.
yep. That's all I have to say about that!

I will add here that a MESC teammate of mine, Diann Uustal , swam a 1:20 for the 100 IM at age 65, and broke A WORLD RECORD in her age group in doing so. A 1:20 IM converted is like a 1:10. At 65! Holy shit!

My next event was also IM--but this time the 400 meter IM. I have never competed in a 400 IM--meters or yards. I was scared--but I really wanted to see if I could finish it, so despite the fact that I wanted to scratch, I didn't. Turns out it wasn't so bad! Of course, this is likely because I spent all of my energy getting through the 100 meter fly, and then loafed the back, breast and free. I finished in 6:55, which in yards would be about a 6:10. My 100 fly (1:33) and my 100 free (1:33).... ummm.... same split. I guess I didn't leave anything in the tank for that last 100, huh?

Right after the 400 IM I had the 200 meter back. I was tired from the IM, and honestly, I didn't work it very hard. I was 9 seconds SLOWER this year than last. Yikes! I finished in 3:10, which would be about a 2:50 in yards. Last year I finished in 3:01. Hmmmm. Not sure what to say about that. I DID finish first in my AG for the 200 back, though! Of course, only two 40-44s signed up for it... but I'm still counting it as a WIN.

I also did a 50 breaststroke in a 200 Medley relay. My team won, but not because of me, I'm afraid. Still, given I SUCK at the breaststroke I didn't do so badly (for me) and finished it in 46.73, which is about a 42 in yards. Given it usually takes me 55 seconds to finish a 50 breaststroke in practice, I'll take it.

So, that's the story of my meet. The best part was not the swimming, of course, but the hanging with friends and watching the other swimmers. Alina won her AG in nearly everything she swam, and with teammates broke the world record in the AG 200-239 200 medley relay. My friend Tracy won her AG in every event she entered, and also broke the Meet and New England records in the 200 free (2:17) and the 50 free (28.00). She also won her AG in the 100 free (1:01:77) and was only 1/100th of a second off the record there. She is freaking speedy-- that girl. And pretty and smart and funny... but I'm not JEALOUS or anything...
Not me.

And now... no more racing for me until early January. I plan to run a 5k early in the month, which should be interesting given my weight and recent training... but you gotta start somewhere, right?!

7 Things

2011-12-08T06:20:00.001-08:00

Courtney (aka That Runner Chick) tagged me in a recent post. The game is to list seven things about yourself.
This one seemed pretty easy to complete, as opposed to some other tagging games, so I decided to do it. Also, I know you are all getting super sick of me talking about how time is slipping slipping slipping into the future....and how I am not keeping up, so I figured this was a good opportunity to depart from that topic for a day or so.

So here are my seven things:

I am destined to be a crazy dog lady. Before I die (oh boy... the time is slipping theme again...) I want to have owned a Boxer, a Mastiff, a Newfie, a French Bulldog, a Grand Pyrenees, a St. Bernard, a Bernese Mountain Dog and a Vizsla. So far I have only owned 2 yellow labs, a chocolate lab and a Boston Terrier. I have some dog owning to do.
In high school, given my love of sneaking off to drink coffee/smoke dope and philosophize about God knows what, I could've been voted most likely to NOT do an Ironman in the future. Ange may have gotten most likely to do one, however. I love Ange for never giving up on me... and waiting for my inner Ironman to make an appearance....
After reading IronWar I realized a few things. At first I thought I liked the portrayal of Dave Scott better than the portrayal of Mark Allen because I am more like Dave Scott in my attitude and training predilections. I realize now, however, that I identify more with Mark Allen. He is more like me if I am at all like either--especially in terms of his upbringing and its effect on his personality as an adult--but I would LIKE to be like Dave Scott. I am more in awe of his type... I have always wanted to be someone like him. I want to be able to suffer more and better than everyone else.
It is quite possible that my son inherited his ADHD from .... me. I have likely read 1000 books now on ADHD and I keep coming up with.... Oh dear. I know where he gets this...
I want to love to cook. But I hate to cook.
My kids get after me because I constantly swear in front of them. Jordan frequently lectures me on how I might become more like other moms: work out less, don't swear in front of children, start making wholesome meals.
I am swimming a 400 IM in a swim meet this weekend and I fear I might drown after the 100 fly.

So there you have it. Now I am supposed to tag other people, but I am too lazy to do so. That should be number eight? So if you read this, and you feel like posting seven things about yourself, do so, and then let me know to go visit your blog so I can read all about you. :)

Time.... Is Not On My Side....

2011-12-05T06:56:00.001-08:00

It's probably not on anyone's side, but I feel the slippage of time so acutely lately, I feel it warrants a post.

Since Kona, I feel like time has acclerated and I simply am not running fast enough to get everything done that I WANT to get done in the amount of time I've been allotted--both in each 24 hour period and also in my LIFE.

My bucket list is huge. It grows a little longer every time I pluck a white hair, and since each day I have more white hair... while you get the idea. It's like I can see the landslide... slipping slipping....
and I want to do it all before age conquers me.

Does anyone else experience this? My heart starts pounding when I think about it. The pressure. The pressure! I cannot sit on my ass or I might miss out on -- everything !

The problem is that I am not a solo unit. I can't scratch things off the MUST DO list when I have three little rugrats that rely on my placement HERE, and a husband who is as confined as me by job and kids and dogs and taking out the trash.

I had a dream last night that I was deep within the earth. I had crawled down there through this tunnel, and the deeper I crawled the harder I knew it would be to get out, but I did so anyway. it was like a compulsion. Finally I hit the bottom, and then realized I needed to start the journey back--to get air, and light. To be free again. The tunnel, as I climbed UP UP UP was dark and cold and wet. And then there was dirty clothing clogging the tunnel. At first I went by the clothing and thought... ugh, I'm going to have to go back to get that because it needs to be washed... but I kept going anyway. Then the clothing got to be so dense that I couldn't crawl past it .So I started pushing it up, up up... and it gathered and got harder and harder to push. There was so much of it and I was so far from the surface! It was weighing me down and then it began to wrap around me, suffocating me.

Then I woke up.

So there you have it.
I can't get to the top. I can't conquer the bucket list and I'm running out of air. I'm in a dark tunnel and suffocating on laundry. The brain frames dilemmas so well, doesn't it?

PLANS

2011-11-30T07:40:00.001-08:00

Hola friends.

Do you find that you most often become sick when you are really busy sitting on your ass, eating leftover Thanksgiving day desserts and contemplating the state of your out-of-shapeness?

I was sick just a few weeks back with a lovely stomach virus, and now I have a nasty head cold. whimper whimper. I give in to thee, oh Gods of sickness! Forgive me! I will do your bidding from this day forth!

Of course, I have no idea what that bidding might be. Scratch that idea.

I took DayQuil, which seemed a good idea at the time, but I am now a little light headed and woozy. I'm wondering how the bike ride coming up is going to go. Maybe I should do it on the trainer....hmmmm?
I foresee a bit of a problem with balance...

Because I have this DayQuil-treated head cold my ability to think coherently is limited, so bear with me. I want to write about PLANS.

So much of training and coaching is about planning. This week and last I have been steadily working on the ATPs (annual training plans) of my athletes. ATPs are fun to make (at least I think so) because so much is possible before any of the minutiae gets in the way. Your athlete wants to achieve X. You start playing with phases and hours and prep races and soon you have created a path to get from where the athlete is today, to where the athlete wants to be to achieve X.

It's fun.
And full of promise.
I love me a good plan.

Problems ensue, however, and this is where the challenge of being a coach comes into play. The plan is the easy, fun part. Detouring effectively when life gets in the way of the plan--that, like in life--is the hard part.

We (the athlete and I) are traveling down the beautiful, planned out road to achieve the golden X. All is good. And then BAM! The athlete's Aunt Esther dies and the weekend workout you had planned so carefully will not just be reduced--it will not happen. So you carefully manipulate the week--which affects the next week, which affects the whole mesocycle.

So you navigate that little snafu, get the athlete back on track and you are still on the way to the golden X, albeit having experienced a small, unexpected bump in the pavement. But then the athlete gets a cold that he doesn't tell you about, and it turns into a major illness that knocks him out of 5 days of training.

Now there is a major snafu for you.

So once again you carefully manipulate the plan so that the five days is just a nice break-- a needed break. You gently push the athlete back onto the road to X again... and you are back! The golden X is in sight once again!

And then the athlete decides, on a whim, that he NEEDS to do this upcoming 5k, and do you think he can PR? And it's in the middle of a build week, where you hadn't intended to taper him at all, but he won't PR if you don't taper him a bit...

It goes on.
It's definitely a craft.

What is interesting to me at this point is how my coach constructs and deals with my ATP. Because I craft my own athletes' ATPs so carefully, and then I spend the rest of the year navigating the inevitable detours the athlete experiences, I am acutely aware of how much I don't want to fuck up the ATP made for me. But sickness, vacations, knock down dead spousal "disagreements" that leave you without a night's sleep, your kid's swim meet, a sharp little pain that might turn into an injury, a new race I JUST HAVE TO DO--they all happen to me, too. And it's sometimes hard for me to see that it's okay to have my own own ATP manipulated to accommodate such roadblocks. I want to get to X. I know what is required to get to X. I want to steamroll any roadblocks and get on with the PLAN to X!

We Type A personalities are practiced in the art of not letting the roadblocks get in the way. But the tricky thing about triathlon (and running/swimming--or any other endurance sport) is that if you steamroll the roadblocks because you want X so desperately--it often backfires.

Which is why it's good to have a coach. Because usually the coach can convince you that the road to X is not, despite what you once thought, the original PLAN that was made. It can't be.

And so we plan. And then accommodate the roadblocks and plan again. and again. and again.

But right now... ahhhhh.
Looking out at the landscape of winter and my neat, orderly, clean ATPs so carefully constructed and untainted by the roadblocks to come, I feel excited. You are all going to make it to X! All of you! And so am I!

The ATPs are ready to be wrecked. And I'm ready to redirect. We will all get to X! WOOT!

How Bad Do You Want It

2011-11-23T06:51:00.001-08:00

Really the LAST thing I should be doing right now is writing a post.
It's the day before Thanksgiving. I should be hitting the grocery store, packing up my kids' stuff so we can travel to Maine this afternoon, writing my athlete schedules and making sure they are all set for the weekend, or completing my assigned bike workout.

But I'm not doing those things.
I'm drinking coffee and writing.
In case you're wondering, this is a good example of poor allocation of time. It is also a good example of defiance, and how defiance can really screw you even if it feels right in the moment.

Which brings me to my next topic:

Wanting.

I recently purchased a coffee table book by Bob Babbitt entitled 30 Years of the Ironman Triathlon World Championship. In the forward, Babbitt discusses Julie Moss's famous finish in 1982 when she collapsed meters from the finish line, but still managed to claw and crawl her way to the finish. "Her finish proved once and for all that Ironman might be a race," Babbitt writes, "but in the end the struggle was strictly personal and that eventually it would come down to you against you. How bad do you want it? That is the Ironman's bottom line."

Many of you who read this blog want it.
And you want it bad.

It's hard to articulate where or why the want is present, but it's urgent and powerful, and it creates a formidable drive that people on the "outside" cannot understand.

In Babbitt's example the implication is that you must want it, like Julie Moss did, DURING the race. This is true. Ironman is not for the faint of heart. Executing an Ironman requires a focus and will that is unrelenting. What Babbitt doesn't get at, however, is that that focus and will must be present for months and months--even years leading up to the race.

I'm not telling you anything you don't know. You already know that you have to want it BAD in order to train for and complete an Ironman. What is more difficult to see is the ways in which many of us, with our focus and wills of steel, thwart the very thing we ostensibly want most.

Yesterday Kurt shot me an email. It contained only one line:
HAVE YOU BEEN SCREWING WITH MY WORKOUTS???

Oops.

Truthfully, I had not actually been screwing with his workouts. I had simply ADDED workouts. Kurt often has his athletes take this Thanksgiving week off. I had workouts slated for Monday through Thursday, but no workouts assigned for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Last week I was sick for several days and missed a bunch of my workouts as a result. I hate missing workouts, and those free days just beckoned to me. You can make those sick days up! Just add them in this weekend! Voila!

That did not make Coach very happy. Clearly. Hence the email. I had not yet actually screwed with the plan, but I was planning to screw with the plan, and I wasn't even trying to make a secret of it.
What seemed perfectly logical--even dedicated-- to me, was met with frustration and exasperation on his end. In his words, "I will say it again-- this time of year is the most frustrating for me. Athletes think about their mental state on November 23rd and disregard their 2012 prep and race prep."

Well, there you have it.

How bad do you want it?

Do you want it so bad that when your coach says to take three days off, you TAKE THREE DAYS OFF?
Do you want it so bad that when you are told to keep a workout easy, you actually keep it easy?
Do you want it so bad that when asked to do three repeats you only do three and not five?
Do you want it so bad that you don't log extra miles, and those keep those miles a secret from your coach, your spouse, your workout log?

Do you want it so bad that you are willing to trust your coach and have faith in his/her plan?

Something to think about--
from one will of steel to another.

Sharp Turns

2011-11-11T09:01:00.001-08:00

This morning I got in touch with an old friend of mine, a professor in the English Department at Simmons. I earned my Masters in Children's Literature at Simmons back in 2001, and Susan taught many of the courses I took there. She remains, in my estimation, one of the best professors I've had, and I have had many many professors in my life--given my predilection for all things school.

Anyway, when getting in touch it occurred to me that I would have to somehow articulate to her the turn my life took in terms of career in the last few years. When last in touch with Susan I had just been accepted to do doctoral work in English at Boston College. My intention was to become -- a Susan: a really really competent, fascinating and engaging professor of English.

And I ended up becoming a run and triathlon coach and an endurance athlete.

Life is weird.

The abrupt turn away from academia occurred when I became pregnant with Jordan. Or I should say, it occurred when I realized what being pregnant with Jordan MEANT. It meant we needed an income. It meant I would need to prioritize looking after a little baby over my studies. Looking down at my growing belly, it began to slowly dawn that earning a doctoral degree in English didn't seem to make quite as much as sense as it had when I applied.

And that was that. My academic career came to a screeching halt in favor of changing diapers, singing Hush-a-Bye and keeping us financially afloat (Andy was already half way down Doctorate Road; no making sharp turns for him) with my sixth grade teaching. And that dream, the dream of professorial greatness, faded, faded, faded.... until it was no longer a dream at all, and I was attending all female, neighborhood book groups in place of classes on The English Novel; discussing the latest Jodi Picoult, (quite contentedly, I will add) while sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio.

Isn't it interesting how sometimes life stops you cold, and then takes you for an incredibly sharp turn, and even though you don't quite realize it at the time, your life path has been irrecoverably altered? What would have happened had I NOT accidentally gotten pregnant at that time? I would've started doctoral work at BC; of that I am certain. Would I now be in Kansas trying to make it as an English professor, struggling with the thought that I had not yet become the next Susan? Would I be totally pretentious and annoying and trying desperately to publish meaningless articles on obscure topics in never-read journals? Would we still have had three kids? Would I have ever gotten into triathlon?

I don't regret that sharp turn. I don't want to go back and earn a doctorate. And I like that the life turn gave me, inadvertently, triathlon. I became both incredibly bored and incredibly overwhelmed trying to keep up with my career as a teacher after Jordan was born, and that state of affairs just got worse and worse with every child I bore. By the time Lara came around I needed an outlet so badly that my running took off in a way it never had before. And then I began triathloning. And here I am.

So from time to time I reflect on the whole "could I have ever been anyone other than me?" question. My little brain struggles to imagine a world in which I didn't travel on this road as opposed to another. How much of this life have I designed? How little?

I wonder these things as my children rage around me, setting fire to the furniture and hiding pencils and old plastic toys into my dogs' alimentary canals. Occasionally I wake from this reverie, fend off the vague sense that some children need guidance and disciplining, and then return and think, "Wow, man. And here I am."

The Cleanse

2011-11-07T08:08:00.000-08:00

My good friend Rose practices as a nutritionist. For a long time she has recommended this cleanse which involves eating primarily fruits and vegetables for two weeks. The first six days you only eat fruits and veggies. On day seven you can take in quinoa or the like. During the last three days of the cleanse you may have lean meats in addition to the quinoa and the fruits/ veggies. The cleanse also includes taking these colon blow supplements that help to "repopulate" the good bacteria in your colon while ridding you of the nasty bacteria. How that works I'm not quite sure.

So this week, Andy and I decided to try it. My training currently doesn't involve much training, so it seemed like the right time to mess with my diet. I went to the grocery store at the beginning of the week and filled the cart with things I previously couldn't even identify: leeks, bok choy, kale, persimmon, beets... (Okay, I can recognize beets). My plan -- make a billion different vegetable and fruit soups and ingest them all week.

This plan appears intelligent, but it didn't factor in something very important: I don't like to cook; nor do I cook well. Hence, two days into the cleanse I found myself at Whole Foods purchasing million dollar veggie soups by the gallon. My current favorites are carrot ginger soup and pumpkin curry soup. Unfortunately, both these soups, though tasty, make me fart up a storm. Actually, the whole only eating veggies and fruits thing has had a rather flatulent effect. You really don't want to be near me until this cleanse is OVER. How do vegans do it? Do their colons just eventually adjust?

Andy, though not overly competitive with me, has gleefully kicked my ASS in the cleanse department thus far. I have cheated with the following foods: coffee, almonds, pumpkin seeds, Lara Bars, and cottage cheese. (I also went out to dinner with Alina, who was down this weekend, and had bread, enchiladas and wine, but let's just forget that little transgression.) Andy, conversely, has been perfect, which is probably why he has already lost weight and is feeling all cleansed.... and I have not and do not. I just want a freaking peanut butter sandwich already.

The benefit of the cleanse, for me, has to do with requiring myself to figure out what to eat. My daily intake generally involves peanut butter and bread... and that is about all. Occasionally I have almond butter instead of peanut butter if I am feeling a bit nutty. I also drink water. And sometimes I have salad. But if we are what we eat--I am basically a larger peanut butter and wheat bread sandwich.

This adventure has required I NOT EAT bread (kill me now) or peanut butter (can you say quivering withdrawal?) for two weeks. I happily report that I have now made it FIVE DAYS without peanut butter and bread. To boot, I have figured out some cool things, like you can't taste kale in smoothies or if you eat ENOUGH salad you can actually get sort of full. Here's someting else interesting that Andy learned yesterday. He had made a kale, squash and corn soup and had added too much cayenne pepper to it. It was so crazy hot that neither of us could eat it, despite being really committed to eating it no matter what--so as not to waste all that kale, squash and corn. To cool his mouth after forcing down a bowl, Andy ate some grapefruit. Then he decided to add grapefruit juice TO the soup.

And it neutralized it! Amazing! It also make it slightly sweet, which was very yummy.
So, kale, squash, corn and GRAPEFRUIT JUICE soup. Not bad! Who would've thought?

In other news...
Oh wait. There is no other news because I'm not training.
Sorry!

Slow Down, You Move too Fast.

2011-11-02T07:26:00.000-07:00

You've Got to Make the Good Times Last.

I should change the pronoun YOU to I, of course. I'm listening to that disc now--the concert in Central Park--in an effort to get myself to calm down. Just callllmmmmmm downnnnnn. Woah, girl.

Before racing in Kona, I now realize, I felt relaxed. Ironic, I know, that my anxious, crazy brain fell silent before that race, but now that I'm home and should be preparing to hibernate for the winter, I have transitioned into a ball of frenetic, manic energy. I think I need Valium. Or maybe electric shock treatment. My eyes are pried open, I am radiating twitchiness, and I'm scrambling manically to get everything done that has been on my list of "things that must be done" since my last off season-- a year ago.

And this, my friends, is why I do and coach long course triathlon and running. If I had to deal with this list all year, I would be in a mental institution--there is no doubt in my mind. So I created a world in which I must train hours a day and spend the rest of my free time making schedules and conversing with athletes--and THEN I do not have time to attack that list! It just grows and grows... and I think, NO WORRIES. I will attack it in the off season.

It's the off season. And I only have about a month before the off season is no longer the off season. MUST. GET. STUFF. DONE. MUST GET IT DONE NOW! Hence, the crazymanicfrenticinsane pace at which I am moving currently. It's rather frightening. Yesterday Ange, via cyberspace, told me to just SLOW DOWN.

Weep! Okay.

Enough on that.
Let's discuss a more soothing topic:
Next season's race schedule! Ahhhhh.... I can feel the rush of relaxation in allowing myself to be transported into that safe realm....

I'm not totally sure of the early season races. There will likely be a 10 mile road race in my hometown, and maybe a few indoor TT on the bike.

But starting in May:

Sudbury Sprint (Jordan will do this one with me! :)
Mooseman Half
Ironman Lake Placid
OOB Rev 3 Half
Pumpkinman Half

Yes, I am signed up for IMLP once again. I toyed with IMFL or IMAZ but finally decided they were too late in the season. I have a hard time cooking much past October 1st. Both of those races are still on the someday list, however, of course!

I have been regretting not signing up for IMLP since the race this year. The only way into the race at this point is by purchasing an IM Foundation slot, and after probably not quite enough thought, I pulled the plug and decided to sign up that way. ueueeu! I'm excited!

I plan to crush the course and take back my barf-filled race day of 2011. I honestly can. not.wait.
Unfortunately, though, even if I earn a Kona slot at IMLP this year, I will not be returning to the Big Island in 2012. I would *love* to compete in Hawaii each fall. Alas, until it starts raining money I will be unable to do so. Hopefully I will save enough of my pennies and be able to return in 2013.

Are you training for IMLP 2012? If yes, I would love to arrange a bloggy meet -up! Also, I'm thinking of taking my IMLP athletes to train in Lake Placid sometime in May. Anyone interested? This reminds me that Ange and I are still filling our roster for 2102. Shoot us an email if interested! angeandmary@trimoxiecoaching.com

Ahhhh.... I feel so much better now! Simon and Garfunkel + thinking about next season...
Who needs to hang those pictures? clean the basement? wash the rugs? dust the floorboards (more like SCRUB them since they haven't been dusted..... ever.)
HMMM?
Not me!

Letting the Underwear Show

2011-10-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

Visit to the playground. Late October, 2011.

It would be nice not to give a rip whether your underwear showed.

I know you will forgive me speaking metaphorically here.
I care too much.

You'd think after 41.4 years I would not care what is thought of me--if anything is thought of me at all--and you'd think I'd be able to accept who I am, warts and all, and just be. But I go through phases of being racked by anxiety that I am not all that--and that the world knows it--and that something must be done about it RIGHT NOW THIS MINUTE.

I am in one of those phases now.

It's a funny thing about training and working. It gives me such day to day purpose that I don't focus on my shortcomings. Without it, I lack focus--or more accurately--I am aware of my lack of focus and more annoyed and burdened by it. I can't seem to keep up, and this bothers me very much. Generally I am irritated by people who seem to have it all together, yet I feel I SHOULD be one of those people. This disconnect is yet another reason to be annoyed with myself.

There is laundry all over the dining room table, my kids are watching MonteCarlo (that very profound 2011 movie with Selena Gomez) for like the tenth time even though it's really not age appropriate for Lara, I haven't made dinner, the dogs didn't get a good walk today, the grocery shopping wasn't done, and here I am. What DID I achieve? I don't even know! Nothing? Drinking coffee while watching soccer? Swimming a few thousand yards while the kids messed around in free swim? Answering email? Checking FB? Worse, I haven't worn make-up in like a month, my eyebrows are growing together, I have a zit on my cheek and I am finding more gray hairs every single day.

Each day I go to bed with new resolve. TOMORROW I will pull it all together. I have got my lists, I've made a schedule, I'm fired up and ready to go.

And by 9 am I have already fucked it all up--having spent too long on email and coffee before the day has even begun.

But when it comes to training and working... now THAT I can do. I rarely miss a workout. Actually, I'll be frank. I never miss a workout. And I love spending time constructing my athlete schedules and emailing with them about workouts And that gives me esteem. Hey! I have fourteen loads of laundry to do, and my dogs are farting up a storm because they ate the strewn remnants of Goldfish crackers and yogurt off the table, and my kids are somewhere in the neighborhood rip-sticking but I'll be damned if I know where, I'm so hairy you'd need a lawn mower to clean up my eyebrows, my legs (etc), my hair hasn't been cut for nine months, and the downstairs toilet is caked in dry piss, and I totally spaced and failed to take Jordan to her orthodontist appointment, but

HEY ! I got that 3000 yards in and I responded to all of my clients today! Yes, I did!

And I have to say this:
I think I wouldn't dislike myself so much for my inability to keep it all together (aside from my work and my working out) if everyone didn't present such a fucking cheery picture on FaceBook.

REALLY! I only need five minutes on FB to feel like crap. I look at happy, productive families, joyous and life affirming updates, witty snippets of smooth as silk lives, and people who are neat, trimmed, youthful...

And the worst thing is that I am guilty of presenting the same thing!

Which pictures are the cutest of my kids? Which are the funniest? How can I present the very most funny, smart, good-looking image of ME and my progeny possible so that everyone is jealous and wants to be ME!

Oh dear God I feel sick even thinking about it.

What would happen if I posted pictures like this:

Hey look! It's my kid! He's stolen my iphone and is taking pictures of himself as I drag him in the car on who knows what errand!

or

Hey look everyone! It's my really really messy desk! I am totally disorganized! Aren't you jealous?

as opposed to something like this, which I'm fairly certain I did post to FB:

Hey! Look at my cute kids. They like each other and we have FUN as family doing things like going swimming!

I'm not sure why I try to make everything look cheery, except that to NOT make things look cheery means I am less cheery than you, and hence I am less realized and well off and successful etc and so on. I'd hate for you to think that--that I am not as cheery and successful as you. And you'd hate me to think that of you too, I bet.

But constantly viewing people's perfected versions of their lives really does a number on me. I know the plastic lives presented are not REAL, but they seem real--just like the life I present to you on FB does. You know?

How does this ALL RELATE TO UNDERWEAR.

I think I may have lost the thread. Maybe you can tell me. Maybe post it on Face Book.
;)

Re-Entry

2011-10-24T07:30:00.000-07:00

Re-Entry has been tough for me. Poor me! (I'm kidding.... ;)

I spent 17 days in Hawaii. Yes, 17! And even though I spent that long, I still didn't want to go home when it was time. I loved the heat, the ocean, and the rhythm of each day. I loved being in a condo that was not my home and devoid of all clutter except that which we brought to it with our luggage. I loved going to Lava Java and getting a latte or a banana soy milk smoothie. I loved seeing sea turtles and colorful fish every time I swam. I loved trying to identify the various Hawaiian birds and flowers. I loved seeing a mongoose slip into the bushes. I loved waking each morning and thinking, Hmmmm, what should we do today?

If I were twenty-two again--single and free--and just post-college, I would do things differently. Of course, it's easy to say that now. It's easy to think I would just go to Kona and live there--teach there--try something new. Get AWAY. But at 22 I wasn't adventurous at all. I moved from Maine to Boston, entered graduate school because there were no jobs for college graduates (recession - 1992) and moved in with my best friends from college. It was the right choice for me then, I suppose. I didn't know then that it would be bascially my ONLY CHANCE to get away... to get out.

And I do know that it is only when the possibility of trying something new is not available that it seems so appealing. I know... I know.

Anyway. I have been inundated with the minutiae of home life since my return. Swim meets, drum and piano lessons, play-dates, homework enforcing, making lunches, doing laundry, walking the dogs, cleaning the house. (Guess it's no wonder I didn't want to leave Hawaii!) I have also felt really panicky, which I don't understand. It could be that I am on REST right now and my body does not like REST--(or maybe, more likely, is simply not used to it). It could also be that I put off an awful lot of schlock before I left on our trip, saying.. Oh, I will take care of that when I get back.

And now I'm back. And that list is long, baby... LONG.

Since my race I have done two short swims, two short runs, and one short bike.
I have one more week to bask in my laziness before I feel the pressure to actually adhere to the Training Peaks schedule set before me by the man. It feels wonderful not to feel pressured to work out... and also terrible. I know you know what I mean...

Speaking of plans...

I have been having fun creating my long term season plans for my athletes. I have some incredible runners and triathletes returning to work with me for another year, and I'm thrilled! Ange and I are both currently reviewing applications of athletes who hope to work with us this coming year. We both take on a limited amount each year, and we like to close out the roster in December. (Which is not to say we don't add or subtract after December... we do! But ideally we like to have things set by then.) 2011 was a huge year for Ange and me in terms of our own athletic successes, and also the successes of the athletes we coach. Our TriMoxie peeps have had many podium finishes, Ironman and 70.3 finishes and marathon finishes (including a sub three marathon! Go Jeff!). If you are interested in our coaching, now is the time to contact us.
For more info. on our coaching you can visit our website or email us at angeandmary@trimoxiecoaching.com. We would love to talk with you, or to set you up with one of our current athletes so they can talk to you about the work we do.

Sorry about the shameless self-promoting. ;) Generally I try to keep the advertising OUT of my blog, but hey...I'm in the off season and the best thing to do in the off season is to start thinking about the NEXT SEASON! (for you and for me!)

I just thought I'd let you know that as I sit and write, Ernie won't stop farting. I love my Boston Terrier, but no dog emits worse smelling farts... I swear to God.

I leave you with some Hawaii pictures... weep weep! I want to go back! Guess I'll just have to qualify again... ;)

Ange and me, sporting our bikinis before we gain that off season weight!

Making sand cakes

Andy and Lara

Reading Percy Jackson on the Kindle with Dad

All six kids (Bancroft and Wilson) from left to right: Jordan, Tommy, Lara, Cam, Noah and Nick

Drinks !

Smoothies at Lava Java

Jordan and me Pre-Shopping

Jordan, me, Lara, Noah- Pre-Snorkel

Walking through a rain forest (with a path... :)

Volcano crater (Mauna Loa area)

Steam vents in the crater

Steam vents and Sunset

Lara

Jordan--hiking in the crater

Kona--Sunset over the water

IMWC continued

2011-10-15T20:15:00.000-07:00

Dropping off the bike, the day before the race.

The thing about vacation is that you actually believe you will have more time than usual, as if the day expands and suddenly there will be more hours to do everything, including blogging. But alas, time doesn't expand like that, especially when you are vacationing in paradise and want to take advantage of every minute you are there.

This morning we went kayaking to a coral reef, tied up our boats, and snorkeled.
This is my favorite fish:

Its a Trumpetfish. He's very cute close up.

The kids are trashed now, and I think actually, Andy is taking a nap, too!
So I have a second to write about the race.

As I mentioned in my last post, I executed an incredible (because I remained happy and healthy), but very conservative race. It's easy, in retrospect, to wonder whether I should've approached the race differently. I had more in me, there is no doubt. But I also remember, even though retrospect has clouded my memory, that I needed to have a race in which I celebrated my making it to Hawaii. For me, celebrating came in the form of slowing myself down enough to I soak it in and enjoy it, and NOT end up in the medical tent.

I spent the morning of the race hovering. I hovered around Robin, around Ange, around my bike. At some point Robin and I headed to the medical tent to complete some Timex study requirements. We filled out a few questionnaires, listed what we had eaten for breakfast, were weighed, had a cheek swab taken, and were asked to pee in a cup.

As you all know, there is plenty of pee to be released race morning. And, of couse, peeing into a cup is easier if the stream isn't a torrent. I did my best, and came out of the porty john only slightly covered in pee, and with a very, very full cup. I believe I was cursing under my breath when I looked up, cup of pee in hand, and there, standing before me, was Craig Alexander.

I believe I said..... "Oh!" and then, "Oh Oh Oh!" and finally, "Hi!"
It took him a second to say hi-- a shy, amused smile lingering on his oh-so-unbelievaby cute face--and step around me. As the door clanged behind him I said, "Good luck today!" I then turned back to see Robin and the rest of the Timex study people snickering at me.

Anyway, I decided to view the sighting as an auspicious start to a great day.

When we finally headed out to the water, I was very ready to begin the race already. I had enough pre-race anxiety, and just wanted to START! My approach to the swim was to go to the far far far far left. I was so far left that I was literally alone, except for a lone kayak who kept telling me to get over to my right.

If you look very carefully, you might be able to see me.... a pink cap just barely inside of the left-hand side of this frame.

After treading water for what seemed like an hour the cannon suddenly, and without warning, went off. It is possible there was warning, of course, and I was just so far off course I couldn't hear it. Anyway! I swam and swam and swam. I could see the buoys about a quarter mile to my right. I saw fish, some coral, a few competitors, and a ton of kayaks, who kept pushing me toward the race and away from the left.

Here you can see the yellow kayakers. I weaved around them, all the way to the left. You can see the pier and the red buoys to the right.

Here is a photo of the race start.
You may THINK I was stupid to stay to the left, but ummmm.... I beg to differ.

When it was time to make the turn to head back to Kona, I had to swim the quarter mile to the turn buoy. That was unfortunate. I wasn't sure how much time I was losing by swimming so far away from the crowds, but I tried to remind myself... we are not rushing today. We are having a GOOD DAY. When I approached the turn buoy I begin to get crushed by bodies. It felt a bit like I imagine entering a washing machine would feel. After 10 minutes of it I had had enough, and began swimming to the far left again to come back. I once again found myself alone save the kayakers, fish, and the few swimmers who were aiming away from the crowds, like me.

At one point I looked down, and I saw them. DOLPHINS! They were gently swimming... so soft and graceful. I thanked myself for swimming so far away. What an amazing thing! Dolphins! Obviously I did not take this picture during the race, but this is what it looked like:

Eventually I heard the loud noises that signaled the end of the swim. The problem was... I couldn't see the ending because I was so far to the left I was on the other side of the pier! So I swam back around the pier, and finally found myself close to the end. Final time 1:13:40. Yep. That is my slowest IM swim time by 7 minutes--and that includes non-wetsuit swims! oops.

But who cared! I saw dolphins! And I had loved my swim and couldn't wait to get on the bike. (I want to thank TriBike here for my super cool new Torque!--sorry I didn't swim fast in it. Next time!)

The run to my bike took forever, but finally I arrived, and I was off! I saw Mark (Ange's Mark) and the boys going up Palani, and in their usual awesome style they went crazy cheering. Thanks, guys! Andy later told me they had just missed me, having spent a very long time looking for me coming out of the swim. They got confused when I was like 10 minutes later than I had told them I thought I would be! oops again.

The first part of the bike on the Queen K is AWESOME--wind at your back, a lot of gradual down hill. It's fun! It's fast! You feel like a rock star! Well, except for the packs of cyclists streaming by you... that doesn't feel so great. But still, this part of the ride was FUN. Can you see me smiling? And look, Kat, the Pumpkinman bottle made it all the way to Hawaii!

I kept my watts pretty low, drank a ton of water, and ate a gel every half hour. I also had a few mini-Snickers, which though totally melted, completely hit the spot. Yum.

Finally I made the turn to climb Hawi. Things stayed easy and calm until about 4-5 miles before the turn around. Gradually... gradually things got windier, and windier and windier, until finally I could barely ride. The palm trees were so bent and blown it appeared we were in the midst of a hurricane, minus the rain. It was insane! I was deliriously happy. Going 1 mph, but happy. How cool! THIS was Hawaii! This was it! This is what everyone meant by the insane winds! And OH BOY did they not disappoint! Finally we turned around, and then the wind was at our backs. I got in aero, tucked in and flew. Then I started to weave, I panicked, and I got up on my bars and prayed instead. Here I am heading back down...

The hardest part of the ride for me was returning to town on the Queen K. It just went on and on and on and on..... And there was this nasty headwind that made me want to scream. I just kept drinking water and eating gels and hoping someday the ride would end.

I'm sweaty, but I'm headed home! (and still happy...)
I think I forgot to mention it was hot.
Yep. It was hot. Like a bottle of water every half hour, pour water over your head and on your legs, and still feel like you are boiling hot, hot.

Finally finally finally I got close to the end. I took my feet out of my shoes... yeah me! And hopped off my bike. 5:57:40. Okay. I'll take it, I guess! Then I tried to hop some more. ouch ouch ouch. It took a bit until I could stand upright, I admit. T2 passed in a blur. And then....

here I was... on the run.

I. WOULD. STAY. HAPPY. AND. HEALTHY.

I took it out slow. Then looked at my pace, and went a little slower. I didn't care if I ran nine minute+ pace, as long as I ran the whole thing, and finished strong. That was the plan!

Running down Ali'i Drive it was HOT. Holy mama! I think I'm squeezing a sponge on my head here.
I saw my family at the turn around on Alli' Drive and I was so excited to see them. Lara screamed as I headed off again, "Don't end up in the medical tent, Mommy!" and I smiled and shouted, "I won't! I promise!"

Running up Palani to the Queen K I braced myself. I had been warned... the hottest part of the course was coming up. But I felt good. Not GREAT, but good... and I knew if I just kept running at this pace I could run forever. I saw Ange as she headed back on the Queen K and slapped her five... Oh! So good to see her! Then I entered the Energy Lab and Thank God and Heaven Above, the sky clouded up. I could not believe my good fortune. I could do this. I had passed the turn around andwas headed out of the lab when I saw Robin. She shouted and again, AHHH. So good to see a smiling, happy, friendly face!

And then I just had seven left. As I ran on, slowly slowly slowly I thought of something Pat Wheeler said in a interview last week. He was talking about what motivated him on the final 10k, and it was the thought that he only had 6 miles until the off season. And that is what I thought during those last miles... Seven more miles til the off season. Six more miles til the off season... five more miles til the off season .....
When I got to mile 24, it hit me. I had only 2 miles until I would successfully finish this race--not sick, not unhappy--just totally happy and alive and thrilled to be in Hawaii. I picked up the pace... and then some more. By the time I turned on to Ali'i Drive I was sprinting.

And I was screaming.... I had done it!

An 11:21:18 is not my fastest IM. It is also not my slowest. But this was the first IM I completed in which I raced within myself and did not allow myself to make mistakes. I did not take risks, but I raced with joy, and I did it at Kona.

I will compete in my next IM in just over a year from now.
I guarantee I will race it, and I will race well and hard. And I will get back here. I will!

Love and huge thanks to my incredibly supportive family, my amazing friends (especially Ange and Alina and to Robin for spending the week with me!), to my parents, to my awesome sponsor, TriBike Transport, and of course, to my incredibly intelligent and supportive coach, Kurt.
And to all of you for your support too! Mahalo!

Aloha!

2011-10-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

When I left off, I had promised to discuss the Timex study I am in, and also to detail my pre-race final days.

But I didn't cause I got all stressed out and in the I'm going to race an Ironman in 24 hours, OMG mode, and couldn't focus enough to write a post.

So now, here I sit, three days post-race. My family has arrived and I am in full slothdom, eating, drinking, and otherwise sitting on my ass with a drink in one hand and a book in the other, ignoring my children as they repeatedly ask me to watch them do this or that flip off the pool deck. It's quite wonderful, really.

We plan to stay in Kona until next Tuesday meaning that by trip's end I will have spent 2.5 weeks here on the Big Island. I'm digging the Big Island. It's quite possible my family will have to carry me to the airport kicking and screaming. Can't I just say here? They need teachers and coaches everywhere, right?

Where to begin? On Friday, as I said, I started to get the pre-race jitters. The fact that I was actually going to compete in an Ironman--here, in the heat and wind, slowly became real and unavoidable. I took Mrs. Z for a quick spin Friday morning to see if the gels I had taped to her down tube would scrape my legs. All good. Then I went for a one minute run to get a free t-shirt from the colostrum capsule people. If you haven't heard of the colostrum people, go here. The gist is: If you take colostrum (from organically fed New Zealand cows) every day, you will develop an immune system as strong as a New Zealand cow, and be able to race as fast as a cow, or maybe even faster. Anyway, the company was giving out free shirts, and I liked the shirts, so I ran to get one.

Robin and I also had a very large breakfast at Lava Java. When I read about Lava Java in blogs before coming to Kona, I thought it must just be a hot spot--the in place to get coffee. It is that. It also serves, however, the most delicious food I've had in forever. I sampled breakfast, lunch and dinner there,(not all on the same day :) and every meal surpassed my wildest yum factor fantasy. Anyway, for breakfast I had banana and macadamia nut pancakes with coconut syrup and a cup of fresh, local fruit. My mouth waters thinking about it.

Race night I picked up my family at the airport (yeah!) and then I went back to my hotel where Robin and I snacked on victuals from a previous supermarket visit, and went to bed by, drumroll... 8:30 pm.
Stunningly (and after 10 mg of melatonin) I fell asleep and didn't wake until the alarm went off at 4:00 a.m.

Before I start into painstakingly reliving race morning and the race itself, I must preface this novel of a post by emphasizing that this time around I implemented a new approach to nearly every facet of my IM race--including but not limited to preparation, taper, nutrition during taper and during the race, pacing strategy, and biggest of all, attitude both before and during the event.

The result was that I had the race I expected to have in terms of execution and time. I also was able to feel joyful throughout the race, sure of my ability to finish strong, and thrilled to be in Kona and living this dream--even at some very difficult moments--like, for example miles 21-23 of the marathon.

I also felt sure I would not come close to achieving an Ironman PR.

That is the price, I learned, you pay for ensuring yourself a joyful race experience, one in which you feel strong from first stroke to last step. To achieve this you (or, I should say I, since I can't speak for you) must take the risk out of the race, and rely on what you know you can do, for sure.

I do not regret my approach. Not even a little. After struggling, barfing and shitting my way through the marathon portion of my first three Ironman races--and ending up in the medical tent passed out for two of those three, I needed to PROVE without a doubt that enjoying the race, and not ending up with an IV in my arm was possible. I needed to take that step--backward you might say--to go forward again. And I had to do it here, in the heat and wind of Kona.

And I did it.
I swam easily, away from the crowds--so far away that I saw a pod of dolphins swimming beneath me--and probably swam an extra mile by doing so.
I rode nearly 10 watts lower than my coach recommended for the first 56 miles of the race, and then 5 watts below for the rest.
I started the run easy, walked every water stop, and kept running easy until the final two miles of the race, when I picked up the pace to the pace that Kurt had recommended I start at.

And I never felt sick. And I never felt desperate. And I never felt that I wouldn't make it to the end or that I need help, and NOW.
I just felt good, and I finished with my arms in the air, a look and feeling of glee about me.

And you know what? Now I know it's possible for me to execute a race in that way, with that level of caution, and that level of confidence that I will finish strong.

And I also know that's the last fucking time I race like that. Because it's not racing. It's just going 140.6 miles.
I needed to know I could do 140.6 with a smile.
Now let's get back to business, baby!

_____________

Off to dinner. We're going for Mexican and margaritas. More tomorrow. :)

Kona II

2011-10-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

And on the second day in Kona.....
I saw Macca at Bike Works! Robin and I had just finished biking, so we were stinky, but he still agreed to a picture with us. I think I look almost as tan and fit as he does, don't you?

At Bike Works I signed up Mrs. Z to receive a wash and a tune-up. I think she may have been the smallest, oldest and dirtiest bike there. We share that. No really... she is not just small, dirty and old... she also has an extremely used and stinky (read I can't get rid of the smell of pee) saddle. (I don't though...really. I swear.) The leather is completely worn off and if I don't change it soon, I will wear it down to the post. So, I figured, the least I could do was to sign her up to get a wash and a trim.

After we had purchased way too much in the way of Kona inscribed garb at Bike Works and had had our Macca sighting, we headed back to the hotel. In the parking lot we were approached by a few PhD students from UConn doing a study sponsored by Timex. They asked us if we would take part. At first I wasn't interested, but the more I learned, the more excited I became.

This is from the Timex blog site describing the study:
The Korey Stringer Institute and Timex are sponsoring a study that examines Performance variables and Physiological Responses in Elite Triathletes during a competitive race. The Timex athletes are participating plus some additional volunteers bringing the total to 30 athletes. The study checks heat, hydration, nutrition and other related measures. The photo below is an athlete receiving a whole body sweat washdown.

They will check the sodium content in the sweat in relation to what he is eating and how they match up. During the race, the Timex Global Trainer will provide important data for the study. In addition, they will also be taking core temperature of the athletes during the race as well. At the finish, they will have a Recovery Intervention at the finish line where half of the participants will be cooled immediately following and the other half will not. Principle Investigator is Dr. Douglas Casa and Student Researcher is Rebecca Stearns. Timex will be receiving feedback for their athletes.

How cool is that? The Timex Team will receive the feedback, but so will we. I'm quite excited.

More on our Timex study adventure in tomorrow's post....

The rest of the day was spent exploring shopping, eating and hanging out. Later that day Ange got in, and we made plans to swim together in the morning.

The next morning we met and I was so excited to see her! My Ange! Here we are... can you guess which one I am? This picture was on the Competitor site yesterday.

And here we are from the front:

From left to right... Shelby, me, Ange, Michelle, Kerrie, and Kerrie's daughter, Rain.
After the swim I socialized, of course.

I love the swimming here. I am vowing to swim every single day until I must leave this island. It's warm, it's salty, it's stunning underneath the surface. And until race day, you can even swim out a quarter mile and get a cup of coffee from Coffees of Hawaii! I stole these pictures from Michelle... (Thanks Michelle). :)

Pictured is Michelle's friend Nalani. See how you hang on the boat and drink the coffee!
AMAZING!
I never want to leave.

I am HERE!

2011-10-05T00:37:00.000-07:00

It is amazing here.
Amazing.

But getting here sorta sucked, I admit.
Andy and the kids drove me and my friend Robin to Logan early early early early on Saturday morning.
This is Robin:

She is taking a picture, so this is actually Robin, in profile.

Anyway, we arrived at Logan very early to board our plan to Phoenix that was to leave at 6:20 a.m.
It did not leave at 6:20 a.m.
The left engine needed a new part, a part that wasn't at Logan and had to be sent for, and so after an hour and half we got off the plane and boarded another plane. We finally left at about 9:15 a.m. eastern time.

And, of course, we missed our connecting flight to Kona. We were re-routed to San Fransisco, where we waited a long long time, and then we arrived in Kona at 11:50 pm, Hawaii time--also known as 5:50 a.m. eastern time. By the time we arrived at the hotel we had been traveling for over 24 hours straight.
It was pretty special.

But we were in Kona!
And the next morning we got up and headed to Lava Java!
On the way I saw this huge snail:

Can you see him?
We also stopped at a farmer's market:

I have never seen Dragonfruit. Cool huh?
We then drank quite a bit of really good Kona coffee. I saw Normann Stadler. I stared at him until he looked at me. That was the extent of our deep and meaningful interaction.
We then strolled around until noon, when I could pick up my bike at TriBike.
I tried not to buy every single knickknack and t-shirt I saw. But I wanted to!

We had a ride on the schedule, and so we took our bikes out to the Queen K to check out that scene. Everything was quite lovely--we zipping right along-- until we got past the airport. Then the wind! The wind! It blew at us from the side and I thought, this is bad, but I can handle it. I couldn't stop looking around. The black lava contrasting with the white grass reminded me of the Klondike section of climbing Mt. Katahdin in Maine. Occasionally we would see others people riding. Everyone was decked in colorful kits and sported sweet bikes with zipp wheels. I was mesmerized by it all.

And it was hot. I made it through both my bottles in an hour and a half. After 25 miles or so we turned around, and BAM! The crosswind was 50x as bad as it had been on the way out. We crawled along, and I must admit I was pretty darn concerned about race day by the time we rolled into Bike Works, a local bike shop located on the way back to our hotel. I was parched, hungry, and a salty sweaty mess, and we had only been riding a few hours! And, worst, I was not at all sure I could handle it. But I will handle it. I just may get blown to Kansas as I try.

Later that afternoon we went for our first swim from Dig Me beach. It was pretty quiet with just a few swimmers and a few kids playing in the waves. Most triathletes seem to swim in the early morning. Anyway, the water was warm and calm, and after swimming out maybe 25 yards we saw the coral and colorful fish. It was so incredible--like swimming in an aquarium. Robin and I swam for 10 minutes and then spent the next 10 just exclaiming over and over what we had seen... a turtle! a tiny black fish with white fins! a yellow and blue fish darting in a coral hole!

I'm not sure how to convey how I feel about being here. I know I am here to race, and I will race, and it will be hard, and horrible and amazing. But this is so much more than this race. I want to suck up every moment here--breathe it in--digest it--carry it.
More tomorrow.

The Reasonable Man

2011-09-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man. - George Bernard Shaw

When I talked to Kurt about my race a few weeks back, I mentioned that I beat everyone it was reasonable to beat. He reminded me that one shouldn't approach a race with that kind of thinking. One must believe she can win whether it's reasonable or not. Who cares who's racing? You are there to win, and you can win. You need to know it.

I know people who believe like this. It's not that they don't doubt themselves at times; it's more that they believe that they can beat everyone--it's possible--and they know this at a deep level. These people don't check to see who is on the entry list. It doesn't matter. They just know that they can win. A good example of this might be Julie Dibens. In the most recent issue of Lava, she talked about how she believes she can beat Chrissie and Miranda at Kona this year. Some may agree with her (I do, actually) and some may believe she is being unreasonable, but the point is she believes she can. She has that hard to come by faith; the unshakeable kind that when challenged simply nods and then goes out and gets it done.

Unfortunately, I don't know I can win. In fact, in the case of the previously mentioned race, I knew I couldn't win because I could not beat Karen Smyers (or Kim Webster or Lisbeth Kenyon, but let's just stick with Karen). I know this because I'm reasonable. I will not beat a person who has previously won the Ironman World Championship as recently as 1996 and who is still racing incredibly well--that is, unless something catastrophic happened to her during the race, like, for example, if she was plucked from her bike by aliens or chased off the run course by a rabid fox or something.

Even when it is actually reasonable to believe I can win, I usually don't allow myself to believe it. You never know who will show up on race day. There are people who are faster than you who live just around the block, the town, the state, the country. I know this--and I know it because I'm reasonable. It's not self-deprication and it's not lack of confidence. I just know that more often than not, there will be someone who can challenge me on the race course.

The question is, how much has my being reasonable held me back?

I think sometimes we are reasonable only to protect ourselves from disappointment.
And sometimes we are reasonable simply because we have been trained to believe in evidence and without it we become unmoored.
And sometimes our consciousness just doesn't allow for the unreasonable.
And sometimes we are reasonable because unreasonable people can be really fucking annoying and we don't want to be one.

_____________________
Enough on that.

I leave for Kona in less than a week.
I'm a mixture of excited, nervous, and mired in the details of preparing for a trip.

I've been doing hot yoga in an attempt to acclimate myself to heat. Today I took a 1.5 hour class in a room set to 110. Sweat came off of me like rain. At times I could not see because I was blinded by it pouring down my face. My mat towel and my shirt were so wet I could wring a puddle of water out of them at any moment in time, even if I had just done so.
Will any of that insane sweating NOW help me in my race?
Oh, who knows. I've also been layering my clothing on my rides and runs, but this doesn't produce the sweating action that hot yoga does. The only thing that comes somewhat close is riding the trainer with the windows closed and no fan. I've been doing quite a bit of that too, all in hopes that I won't melt into that lava pavement, never to be seen again.

Here is a picture of Hazel.

I took it the morning after she kept the family up all night barking. Who knows what got into her. She just would. not.stop.
So to punish her I woke her up. :)

Little Red

2011-09-19T09:35:00.000-07:00

My Canondale road bike, Little Red, has briefly come out of retirement. This morning I brought Mrs. Z to Fast Splits, where she will get a quick little tune-up from Brian, the mechanic there, and then shipped off to Hawaii by TriBike. It's a long trip. I'm hoping she makes friends with all the other bikes.

But, in her absence, enter Little Red.

Here she is in 2007 at Timberman, her first and only 70.3. Soon after she was replaced, coldly, by the super slick, Mrs. Z.

Little Red has been spending time in the basement lately. When I brought her up I had to clean her thoroughly. She had become a tad moldy and cobwebby, I'm afraid. After a complete bath and a little lubing, however, she looks quite snappy and rides quite well. We all ride better after a bath and lube, eh?

I removed Little Red's aerobars because I think they cause me to be even less aero than simply being on the drops. I think I might have 70 spacers atop my stem. Not sure. I admit I'm slightly relieved that I will be unable to measure power output for the next few weeks. My legs are cooked. I just want to rest, man! Luckily for me, I am resting a bit this week. It's funny--before IMLP I was constantly paranoid I wasn't doing enough or working hard enough. Now I'm doing exactly as prescribed, and no more, with no worry. I'm just too freaking tired to worry. End of the season, can you hear me calling your name??

I leave you with a few illegally copied photos of my racing at Pumpkinman.

I look cut and tanned! You know I'm going to look at these pictures in January and sob, full of self-pity because my tanned cut-ness has turned into pasty flabiness.

And here are a few of my awesome tri friends who raced (and all placed, fyi) Stacy, me, Kelsey, Amy, Erin and Michelle.

For now. Namaste.

Pumpkinman Race Report

2011-09-12T20:05:00.000-07:00

I've never raced Pumpkinman. I've always raced the Lobsterman Oly in Freeport instead, which is usually held the week after Pumpkinman. At one point I thought I'd do Lobsterman every year until death do me part. It is the ONLY triathlon I have done every year since I began triathlon in 2007, and I figured I could have a streak. I've always wanted to be a streaker. It would be a race I could always come back to... a race I knew by heart... a race I considered all mine.

But then when I went to sign up for it this year I thought, I'm sick of that race. Time for something new.

I'm so steadfast. What can I say.

So, enter Pumpkinman.

When I qualified for Kona I nearly bagged the idea of racing it. According to the pros, racing a half four weeks before the big show is "perfect timing." I put that in quotes, but I am actually not quoting anyone in particular. It just seems a lot of them said something like that when being interviewed before the 70.3 World Championship in Las Vegas this year. Anyway. It may be perfect timing for a pro, but I am not so sure it was perfect timing for me. I'm no spring chicken and I don't always bounce back the way I'd like to, and, more importantly, I'm no seasoned pro. I'm just seasoned. To race hard, recover, and still get in all the training I need to race Kona?
hmmmm. Probably a bad idea to race.

So, naturally, I felt the need to race. Badly.
Steadfast, reasonable, practical. That's me.

My introduction is getting too long already. Bear with me.

Truthfully, I decided to race Pumpkinman because I wanted to have a good race before Kona. This season started out with a bang... full of promise! full of surprises! full of success! Think Quincy Half (pr!) Think Boston Marathon (pr!), Sudbury Sprint, (pr and second OA!), Mooseman (1:36 half! woot woot!)
But then... not so much later in the season. Think IMLP (dashed hope for a sub 11 and lots and lots of puke), and AG Nats (lots o'fun but not much speed).

I felt a deep need for that promise, suprises, success thing again before I faced Kona. You might be thinking, why not just get that at Kona? Well... good question. I cannot be sure what will happen at Kona. I could nail that puppy and have a perfect day. Or I could get really hot and dehydrated and decide to take in cold margaritas for fuel on the run. I'm just not sure. I was sure, though, that I could get it at Pumpkinman. I knew I could. The fact that Kurt had me training right through this race with no rest did not phase me. I just knew I could have a good race, tired and un-tapered or not.

I'm sure you're very glad I explained that all to you.
I'm getting to the race report, all right? Leave me alone! Geez. Have a little patience.

The day before the race Kurt texted me to ask me if I wanted to switch my entry to elite. The race director (Kat) had emailed him and suggested it. Only four girls were signed up for elite, and there was MONEY to be had--through five places. At first I balked. My only experience racing elite came in 2009 when I raced the Fireman Oly. Catherine Sterling (right, the woman who was second behind the Olympian at AG Nats a few weeks back) and I were the only registered elites. She beat me by like a half hour. In an Olympic. Really. I'm not lying. Also, I remember spending the ENTIRE bike alone. The elite men and Catherine rode off quite briskly, and the age groupers took forever catching up to me, and I was just ALONE. I didn't want a repeat of that. I race to be around people and compete! Not to ride alone hum de dum wondering when and if I will see another racer ever ever again.

But there was money... and with only four signed up? I'd make five... so money for sure.

I decided to go for it.

Race morning I got up at 2:50 a.m. That is correct. It was the middle of the night.
I decided to drive to Maine the morning of the race because I didn't want to rent a hotel room, and my parents' home in Maine is at least an hour fifteen from the race site. So, I got up in the 2:00s...
I had a lovely ride, listening to my book (Cutting for Stone) and drinking coffee. When I arrived it was 5:15 a.m. Transition had just opened. I found Kat and got my entry changed to race elite. "So," I asked Kat, "Are all your elites racing in the World Championship 70.3 today?" I queried.
"Oh, not at all!" she said. "We have 21 people signed up for the elite wave!"
I'm hoping I didn't look to stricken.

21 people?
21?
Oh fucking fuck.

As I got ready at the elite rack I noticed who was there:
Karen Smyers.
Kim Webster.
Lisbeth Kenyon.

Oh sure. Good idea to race elite. VERY good idea. I pinched myself and screamed internally, "I TOLD YOU, YOU STUPID WOMAN! WHEN WILL YOU LEARN! ELITE IS BAD! BAD BAD BAD!"

It was cold outside, so after I finished racking and getting myself all dolled up to race, I went to the car to listen to my book, eat a banana and get warm. I also contemplated my fate. There were NOT four women here to race elite. There were more like 10 girls, goddamnit. But it was what it was. I would just have to beat all of them it was reasonable to beat. I might not be able to run down Karen, Kim or Lisbeth... but there were a few others to out swim, bike and run. Right? I said, RIGHT?????

The swim start was delayed because of fog. I waded in the water and chatted with a few friends I knew. I wanted to hide my white cap, which marked me as a person who thought she could hang with the big cats. I actually chatted with Karen for awhile. She is extremely hard not to like, I will say that. Classy woman, that Karen.

The fog had JUST lifted when they set us off. I was suprised that the whole pack of elites didn't swim right away from me. But they didn't. Or some didn't. I stayed with the some who didn't. The first loop was rather nice, as we had the water to ourselves. The second loop we merged with the waves just starting, and that was rather un-fun. It was a tad crowded. I got distracted and sighted the wrong buoy for a bit and lost some time there. But it was fine. I got out at 29:34. I would have been elated with that time, except for the knowledge that the swim is likely a little short. Stats here: 26/445 overall, 9th woman (in terms of time on the swim) and 4th fastest elite woman (in terms of time on the swim).

We had to run up this mother fucker of a hill to get to T1. It's big enough so they have a separate time for it in the results--"the hill challenge" or something. I was extremely winded and ready to collapse at the top of it. They ranked us according to our time climbing this hill. I don't remember what I was. It wasn't terribly impressive, I do remember that!

T1 was fine. I didn't forget anything. That's always a plus.

When I began the ride I observed that I was only riding 38 watts. average. I continued to look. The average moved to 37w. average. hmmmmm.
I had just cleaned my bike. I THOUGHT I got that magnet back right...
Oh dear.

Also, my quads began burning about 30 seconds into my ride.
I think this may be because I was tired from my rides in the days previous?
In any case, I figured, if they burned now what did I have to lose? Let's just make 'em burn a little more, shall we? Can't save yourself if there's nothing to save, right?

(Belief in this axiom has gotten me into trouble in past lives, I will add.)

About 35 minutes into the ride my power meter started working normally. Thank God! I'm nothing if not dependent on that little thing. I settled in at my goal watts, comfortably hard. I like comfortably hard. I stayed in aero. I focused. The course was rolling. Not flat, but definitely not a hard course either. The only problem: I WAS ALL ALONE.

Of course I was. This is what you get when you race elite and you are not really elite! You get LONELINESS! I sang to myself....

I think we're alone now... there doesn't seem to be anyone around... (Tiffany. I am an 80's girl...)

and

All by myself.... Don't wanna be... All by myself.. anymore (Celine Dion, although I'm sure a million others have sung that tune...)

and

Well someone told me yesterday.. that when you throw your love away... (The Police, So Lonely)

That's all I could think of. Give me a break, though. I was racing.
Except it didn't feel like racing, because, as I have reiterated several times now, I was all alone.

On the second half of the second lap some age group men starting passing me. FINALLY! I wanted to scream at each one that passed, "WTF! Where have you been you slow pokes!!" My friend Ted zipped by just as I had stopped pedailng and was taking a piss. I would've yelled hello, but it takes a lot of focus to pee on the bike. Also, I was distracted by the warm wet streaming down my legs and into my shoes.

Toward the end of the ride a few guys played Pass and Park with me. The game is as follows: Pass the chick, slow down, and park your fat ass in front of her. She gets pissed and exasperated, and finally passes you back. Then, after a few minutes, you catch up to her again and pass her, and then slow down and again park your fat ass in front of her. And by the way, if you decide to play this game, please make sure that you are not wearing ten year old tri shorts that are see-through and reveal your ass crack. Thanks.

I did make a few friends toward the end of the bike. A couple guys just rode around me, and didn't play pass and park. I liked them. We all rode into T2 together. 2:39:xx. 80/445 overall, 10th female (in terms of time on the bike, 4th elite female (time wise), and off the bike in 4th position. The ride was more like 55 miles. I'm just saying.

I dismounted very very carefully after removing my feet from the shoes while still riding. It was so tentative and slow that it is likely it would've been faster to just hop off the bike with my shoes on, but hey. I'm trying. I WAS racing elite, after all.

I felt super when I started the run. I was calm. I was smooth. I had on Noah's cool black IM visor. I was ready to rumble! This lasted about 2 miles. Then I didn't feel like running anymore. But hey, two miles! I'll take it. The easiness of the first miles gave way to a steady, hard effort. The hard effort was not producing the splits I wanted to see, but I just kept on running and hoping that the NEXT mile would be a wee bit faster. The course was not flat. Like the bike, it also wasn't particularly challenging. But it was not flat. This disappointed me greatly. I was really pining for some FLAT. At about mile 3 I saw Karen Smyers coming in the other direction. I tried to figure out how far ahead of me she was. 20 minutes? 25minutes? Then came Kim Webster. She looked like she was just barely grazing the pavement with her dainty feet... sailing along. Then came Lisbeth. I reckoned I was only 10-15 minutes away from her... Not so bad!

I scanned the opposing direction for any more females.
There were none. I hit the turn around. I was runinng in fourth. On the way back I scanned again for females. Ahhh... there was one! I recognized her: Andrea. I had never beaten her. I thought I might be 2-3 minutes ahead of her. Could I hold on?

I began to run scared. My miles picked up a little. But I had this... I had this...

At mile 8, as generally happens in these races, I started really really hating life, running, triathlon, myself, my coach, my competitors, humankind etc. I drank Coke. That helped a little. A noted on the turn around that Andrea was closer... maybe just 2 mintues? Hard to tell. I hated her, too. She was young. (actually, she is in my age group, but she LOOKS young.) She was blond. She looked fresh and strong. My lungs hurt and I could smell my pee and sweat. Plus I have wrinkles and brown hair...
You get the picture.

I tried to gain inspiration from Karen, Kim, and Lisbeth, all friendly, all beaming at me as I ran by in the opposing direction. Were they so nice because they knew I would never in five trillion years catch them? Lisbeth looked really strong and pretty (really, she looked pretty), but also she looked like she was working. Not so much for Kim and Karen. I know looks can be deceiving. I remember an athelte friend of mine asking me when running got easy for me. I looked at her quizzically.
Ahh, never?

A friend told me before the race that the run measured 12.9 miles. It was not 12.9. It was 13.1. Barely, but yes, 13.1.
I had really really been looking forward to getting that little .2 in my pocket for free.
God damn. Maybe it WAS 12.9, but it had been changed.

The last little bit was up a hill (OUCHHHHH) and then down a big hill (OUCHHHH) and then finally! The end!
1:40:16, 50th overall, 11th woman (in terms of time on the run), 5th elite woman (in terms of time on the run), 4th position overall.

Final finish 4:52:40, 4th woman overall, elites and AG combined.
I was in the money, baby!

And I got to stand on a podium with Karen Smyers, Kim Webster and Lisbeth Kenyon and Andrea, who I had never beat before! So cool.

I had a great race. Thanks to Kat Donatello for putting on a really superior race. Thanks to Kurt (even though you asked me to run after the race was over. I forgive you)... and thanks to Andy (who took the kids and dogs camping this weekend--that's worth like a gold star and five... nevermind)....Also thank you to all my super awesome tri friends at the race. You know who you are!
Now onto those margaritas while on the run in Kona....

A Wet One

2011-09-09T07:25:00.000-07:00

Because you asked... here is THE PURSE.
It's a beauty, eh?

On Wednesday I went for a long ride. Or I was supposed to go for a long ride. Thirty-five minutes into it I looked down and observed my front tire. Was it flat?
I stopped. Usually I'm wrong. Usually a tire I believe is flat is totally fine and I kick myself for being so damn paranoid.
Not this time.

I changed it. I got really dirty, because, I need to add here, it was pouring out. Kurt's favorite little adage about riding in the rain: We are not motivated by the sky....

Well now. Honestly, I'm not motivated by the sky. It's also fair to say, however, that I can be extremely un-motivated by the sky. The forecast for Wednesday was not firing my motivation, but it was definitely dampening it. The hourly forecast looked something like:

8 am rain, 9 am rain, 10 am rain, 11 am rain, 12 pm rain, 1 pm rain, 2 pm rain, 3 pm rain

and so on. Still, I went out bravely into the cold, wet misery.
And now I here I was--alone, cold, soaked, dirty, and changing a tire on the side of the road as cars drove by me mercilessly, splattering me in muddy guck.
BTW, does anyone know a trick for not freezing your fingers off when you use the Co2? I find I have to hold the canister firmly in place or some of the Co2 leaks instead of going into the tube, but when I hold it my fingers FREEZE. It's awful. Anyway.
After changing the tire I put everything bike into my little pouch and headed on my merry, dirty, wet way. Two minutes later I observed my front tire. FLAT AGAIN.

I admit I got a little weepy. It was one of those moments during which I really wanted a knight in shining armor to ride up and throw me on the back of his steed, bring me home, put me in front of a warm fire and give me hot cocoa.
Alas, not to be. There were no knights riding around on Washington St in Walpole on this sad, rainy day.

I changed the flat, and then observed the grim reality. I had no more tubes and no more Co2. Additionally, I was just forty minutes into a five+ hour ride and I had lost a good 25 minutes fixing flats. Here is the thing: to get in a five + hour ride I have to leave immediately after the kids get on the bus. Once riding there is no fucking around taking breaks to have a snack or take a long piss. Every minute counts if I want to get home and also get the transition run in before the kids get off the bus. Losing a half hour was not good. Not good at all.

And so I headed home. I worried the whole way I would flat again. Clearly there was something embedded in the tire that I had not found while changing the tube in the pouring rain.

About ten minutes before I reached my house I looked down at my front tire, and I saw..... not a flat. I saw a BUBBLE. My tire was bubbling! I stopped and examined the bubble. Slowly, slowly it was expanding to form a rip.

Okay, I did cry. I cried and walked home in the rain, in my cleats, muddy, dejected, alone, pitiful. WHY hadn't I changed the tire? I knew it was old! I knew it had very little life in it!
It was truly sad and pathetic.

When I got home I checked into Training Peaks to figure out what I could do instead of the ride. The long run. I'm racing Sunday, so the long run was only an hour. Still. An hour. In the cold rain. I almost burst into tears again.

But of course it was fine. Running in the rain isn't bad at all, really, and there is no chance of getting a flat when running, which is one of the reasons I will always love running MORE than riding.

The next morning I woke ready to RIDE, BABY! But okay, I admit, I was a little bit leary of going out because the forecast looked surprisingly familiar:
8 am rain, 9 am rain, 10 am rain, 11 am rain, 12 pm rain, 1 pm rain, 2 pm rain, 3 pm rain
I decided to ride the first few hours on the trainer--safe and comfy in my little home as it poured outside.
Naturally I felt guilty. And wimpy.
So I decided to make my ride on the trainer the toughest mother fucking ride ever.
I turned the heat to 87 degrees. I did not use a fan. I rode the watts I was required to ride outside.

OH MY GOD.

I contemplated putting a bucket underneath me just so I could see how fast it would fill with my sweat. A bonus would be I could use it to barf. I have never ever sweat that much in my life. Nasty. Nasty x 1,000,000.

After three hours of sweating like that I went outside to finish the ride. It was still raining, of course, but at least I only had 2.5 hours left, and wasn't staring down 5+ in the pouring rain.
I made it. Granted, Mrs. Z and I were covered in grit and slime and gravel and mud by the end. But I did it.

And today it's sunny out. It's sunny because on my schedule I just have AN INDOOR SWIM.

Post 40

2011-09-06T07:43:00.000-07:00

The other day I shopped in the little Ocean Park Grocery store. I found a purse for sale there. Strange, I thought, for a purse to be for sale in a tiny grocery store that specializes in making subs and frosted cinnamon rolls, and in supplying tourists with sunscreen, coffee and the morning paper.

The purse was covered in a cloth overlay that bore a picture of a mom and puppy bull terrier. The colors in the photo were garish: bright green grass, orange flowers, the puppy nestled inside a watering can that sat by his mother. On one side of the purse the dogs sat pictured in studded collars with actual miniature rhinestones embedded into them. The purse cost $9.99.

I loved it.

Hmmmmm... Did I dare? Who carries a $9.99 dog purse around?

And then I remembered.
I'm over 40. I can carry whatever damn purse I want.
My days of caring whether people think me bizarre (at best) for carrying a cheap purse covered with a cute puppy picture are over. Plaster my bedroom walls in puppy pictures! It just doesn't matter anymore!

One of my favorite movies growing up was Meatballs, starring Bill Murray. You may remember (if you are old enough to even be familiar with the movie) that the ragtag Camp North Star tries to compete with the richer, smoother Camp Mohawk. At one point, after Camp North Star has lost quite tremendously to Camp Mohawk in a basketball game, Murray (aka Tripper) gives a motivational speech to the deflated campers. The speech ends... It Just doesn't Matter!

It just doesn't matter. That's the key, and it's one of the greatest things about being 40. It took me this long to realize it: I've got one spin on this planet, and if I want to carry a fucking dog purse, I can carry a fucking dog purse.

Here are a few other things I realized I could do when I turned 40:

Wear a skimpy, purple sequined bikini (or the like--I have quite a few outrageous bikinis, actually). Counter-intuitive, I know, but when I was young I felt I couldn't wear the skimpy bikini... I had to be thinner, I had to be more toned, etc. Now that I'm 40--It Just Doesn't Matter... really!
Read a cheesy novel or listen to a cheesy song on Kiss 108 and readily admit that I loved it
Kiss my dogs on the lips
Get a tattoo (or more than one)
Dye my hair (okay, I admit, I've always had fun with dying my hair...)
Eat real ice cream with all the fat
Admit I don't like red wine and just stick with white
Embrace my nasty feet, complete with their bunions and blood blisters, and not apologize for them or try to hide them
Ask when I don't know, even if I should know, and not apologize for not knowing.

Those are just a few things--all seemingly insignificant. But they aren't.

Exhibit A: At 40 I feel I can wear a zebra suit and think I'm hot shit because of it, to boot.

Training has been... going. It hasn't been bad or good--it just has BEEN. Kona is in 5 weeks, and I'm now trying again to TAKE off some of that ice cream weight I put on after IMLP. (Yep, I went a little overboard there!) Next weekend I race a 1/2, Pumpkinman, up in my beloved Maine. I've never done this race, so I'm excited about it. Who will be there? Anyone? Anyone? Let me know!

AG Nationals Race Report Part Deux

2011-08-26T06:57:00.000-07:00

Here I am just after finishing the swim. It must be post-slip, since the slip occurred while I was still ankle deep in water. As previously mentioned, I experienced a massive wave of disappointment when I witnessed my swim time. Still, I'm taking it as a good sign that the two caps in back of me, one green and one pink, are caps from previous waves. That must mean I'm actually super fast, right? (Either that or those folks it the green/pink are reallllyyyyy slow--but let's just say I'm fast, shall we?)

Onto transition.
I got there. It happened. Not very fast.
The one problem I had was that my sunglasses broke as I was running out of transition. I hadn't put them on yet, and a lens popped out, probably because I crushed them by accident with my super human strength. Or the glasses were cheap. Or both. My friend Carrie, leaving T1 at the same time, alerted me to the lost lens. I didn't go back for it... but LATER I found out that Janda had seen me lose it while spectating, and he reached into the fray to retrieve it. He gave it to me after the race. Thank you, Janda!

So, it was a sunglasses-less ride. I briefly contemplated wearing them with the one lens. That combined with my double-padded breasts would make for some good race photos! I decided against it, though, which was likely a good choice given that one eye in darkness and one eye in brightness might make me feel kinda trippy.
As is, my bike race photos turned out rather silly. What was I doing with my face? Trying to be coy? Also, I still look flat. I can't imagine what I'd look like without the pads! (Actually, I can imagine it since I didn't wear padding at IMLP, and have the pictures to prove it. ) Anyway, at least it looks like I am enjoying myself! (Perhaps that's why my average watts are some much lower than I had been shooting for, hmmm?)

So the bike. What is there to say? When I left T1 and finally was on the course I saw Andy. He yelled that Ange and Tracy were only a little ways up and Carrie was just barely ahead. I knew this, but it is always nice to hear it, and always good to see him, too. So that was a boost. Then I saw Kurt, who yelled, Good Swim! which also was good to hear given that I felt my swim had sucked and I was ashamed of it.

For the first five minute a girl in my AG in a one piece tri suit designed to look like a spider web kept passing me and then dropping back. I found the suit oddly disconcerting. She appeared almost non-human in it-- like a small spider-woman-- a real live character straight out of a comic book. I had to resist the urge to slow down to ask her where she acquired such a get-up. Finally, though, I had had enough of her back and forth antics, and sacrificed my VI for a bit and rode extremely hard to get away from her.

After that I remember only that I was frustrated that although my watts looked pretty good I wasn't going very fast. I reasoned it must be a headwind, though I wasn't sure. Were we going slightly uphill? Thank God for the power meter in cases like these, where my speed is slower than I think it should be. My watts were where they should've been, so I resisted the temptation to believe that my slow mph was due to my being out-of -shape, just slow, pathetic, etc... I just rode and reasoned that if I blasted any harder than I already was (and I was definitely riding hard) I would be screwed later.

After a 180 degree turn (during which I felt the need to un-clip and put my foot down so as not to tip over--. DEAR GOD I need help in bike handling....) Anyway, after the turn my speed picked up considerably even though my average wattage remained the same, so it really must have been a case of a headwind early on. During the second half of the bike I felt both strong and light, and most importantly after my race at IMLP, I felt psyched to be racing. The only annoying moments came at the end of the ride. The last half mile of the course was clogged with riders and the shoot to the finish was so narrow that there was no passing and the pace was really slow. (Like 13 mph slow. No kidding.) I lost time there, but I tried to just chill and not get pissed. Everyone had to slow down, right? This was confirmed for me when I read Ange's post and realized she experienced the same problem upon finishing.

When I got off the bike (awkwardly, I will add) and ran into T2 we went over a black mat. The volunteers yelled again, "It's slippery! Careful!" And so of course, I slipped again, this time right on my ass, my bike on top of me. It was comical, and luckily not painful... but still.... another slip? arghhhh.
Luckily I did not slip again for the rest of the race!

The run began with a rather large hill. Strangely, I liked this. It did not allow me to take the run out fast, which is pretty characteristic of me. After reaching to top of said hill, the course flattened out and remained flat. The potential for a fast run time: very good. The problem: I had no confidence in my ability to run fast. My first miles were somewhat effortless and sub-7, which I found both surprising and disconcerting. Would I blow up? I hadn't run a sub 7 mile since... since..... since.....forever! All that IM training with only a few bursts and NO sustained speed.

At mile 3 I started to feel a little empty and weak. I knew I needed fuel, but as is so often the case when racing, the effort involved in reaching into my back pocket for a gel seemed way too great. I only had three miles... three little miles....I would just hold on...

By mile 4 I finally convinced myself I was being an ass and pulled the gel out. Thank God I did. I got my zip back after another half mile. Too bad I had waited so long. How stupid can I get? Will I ever LEARN? Argh. My sub 7 pace had slowed to a just over 7 min. pace. Grrrrrr..... and at mile 4.5 who should pass me? A girl with a 44 on he leg! Of course! I was able pick up the pace, but not pass her back. I learned later she ran a 40 minute 10k, so it wasn't my imagination that she was really hauling when she passed me.

With a half mile to go I saw Andy who yelled. LEAN! and Use your arms! (Later we talked about my absolutely atrocious run form. Another area I need to work! And soon!) Then Kurt saw me and yelled to pick it up. Pick it up! Go! And I tried! I did!

Here I am close to the end. I LOOK HAPPY. And that is how I felt, even though I wasn't some speed demon. My race had gone relatively well, and I felt good, and I was having fun. I needed that. I really needed that after the fiasco at IMLP. Thank you to the almighty gods of racing!

I finished in 2:20:39. That's a PR Oly for me! My swim was 25:19, my bike 1:09:20 and my run 43:40. I finished 16th out of 108 in my AG, but in my mind that is actually 15th, b/c Olympian woman was in my wave and captured first, of course. Ange was sixth, Carrie was ninth, Tracy was 14th. I did not beat any of them, my good friends, :) but HEY! I'm proud to be even a little close by! And as I said, I had a great race--I had fun. AND THAT had been the goal here.

After the race I continued my weekend of socializing. I sought out everyone I knew and chatted and chatted and basically would not shut up. I had the best time with my new fried Rebecca. She is hilarious--nearly as funny as me--which is hard to achieve, of course. Andy and I went back to the hotel, got cleaned up, and then went to meet her, her husband, Tim, Kurt, Amy, Roger and Rebecca's friend John for drinks. Fun! I also got to hang out with Rocco, Rebecca's awesome yellow lab. What a good boy he is...

Later Andy and I got dinner and drinks to celebrate our 12th anniversary, which was the next day. 12 years, folks. I know that any of you married friends know that 12 years is definitely an achievement, and not to be scoffed at. I'm proud of us. After dinner we met Kurt, Catherine (of winning fame) and Carrie and her husband Tom out for drinks. Ahhhh.... a big weekend of socializing for sure! I loved it!

This week I'm back to Ocean Park with Alina. For Jordan's tenth bday on Wednesday we went to Funtown (a local amusement park). It was a great day.

The whole crew, minus me, of course... Sam, Jordan, Noah, Ethan, Maria, Alina, Dara, Lara, Alanna.

Dara and Lara

Watching the big kids on the Dragon's Descent

Dara and Lara on the Frog Hopper

Jordan and Maria being silly
One last week of summer....
(including one hurricane traveling up the coast....)

AG Nationals Race Report

2011-08-23T19:01:00.000-07:00

On Friday morning I left Alina with all six kids (I'm so nice...) and drove to Burlington, Vermont to race in the Age Group National Championship. I had a good race. The two thick pads I used in each cup of my sports bra did not become misplaced in some terrible locale on my body that would've made others stare and point--pity in their eyes.

So that's good.

When I plotted out my season this year I did not plan on racing AG Nats. It fell too close to IMLP, it was at the end of the summer, it was too far away. But then I noted that all of my triathlon friends were racing it and my song changed. I HATE to feel left out, and furthermore, what a great opportunity for me to 1. Socialize and 2. See how I stack up against nearly every one of my triathlon friends!

So, it turns out I stack up where I always stack up, in case you were wondering. But, more importantly, I did get in a mighty fine bit of socializing. In fact, when I reflect on this past weekend that is with what I am left: the race was fine, but the socializing was exceptional. I was also able to spend time with Andy without the kids present. That is a treat.... and a big one.

I was an anxious, nervous wreck before IMLP. In fact, I was so much a wreck that I suspect that some of my sickness on race day can be attributed to my incredible anxiety before the race began. For this race.... well, let's just say I did not get nervous until.....
until.....
Okay. I never got nervous.
This is of note only because the race was a national championship. Many competitors had made this competition the A race of their season. Still, let me be clear: I wanted to kick ass. I always want to kick ass. It's just that my want was about 40 billion times less intense then my want at IMLP.

The night before the race I began my weekend fait de frequenter des gens by meeting Steve (a tri friend from the present and actually also a swim friend from my high school days) and Kurt (my coach), and Ange and her boys. As a quick aside here: her boys are such good kids. Have I mentioned that? They are smart, well-behaved, and kind. I have decided that Ange needs to come live with my family for a bit so she can reform my kids and make them behave well in restaurants like hers? Do you think that's possible? Anyway, it was a lovely dinner, especially since Kurt didn't chastise me much for my choice to eat fries instead of a side salad. He wouldn't' give me a bit of his burger, though, which is just plain mean and likely cost me the race.

The next morning Ange and I, as usual, got to transition early Saturday morning to get ready for the race. We had racked our bikes the night before, so there really wasn't much to do--except to socialize. KT, a blogger friend who has the coolest bike EVER, was right next to me in transition on one side, and another PBM athlete, Rebecca, on the other. Ange was next to KT on KT's other side, and two spots down from me. A few places further down our rack was my friend Nancy, and just across from where I was racked were my friends Carrie and Tracy. These friends, fyi, were just the ones close to me in transition. This race was like my friend mecca. I loved it! There was no shortage of people with whom to gab! And gab I did... mostly with Tracy and Rebecca who I followed around, perhaps somewhat pathetically. It's hard to say.

Our swim wave was number 11, and so we had quite some time to wait around before we went off. I tried not to think about jumping into the cold water. I hate jumping into cold water. Actually, I hate jumping into any water. When it was our turn, however, the jump turned out to be not so bad at all.
This is not our wave, but this is the jump...
I can feel my stomach drop just looking at this picture. And yes, I know, it's not a big jump or anything... but it is still a JUMP.

The water was warm! Too warm.... warmer than Mirror Lake last month for sure. Of course, it likely felt that way because I had a wetsuit on, but whatever. After the jump I noted that most women swam a bit to warm up before being called over to the starting area. Hmmm, could this frenzy to warm up mean there were quite a few swimmers here? Swimmers generally warm up. Non-swimmers don't. I guess there were a few more swimmers than non-swimmers at this race...

Oh dear. Yes. I guess that WOULD be the case at Nationals, huh?

Did I mention that there was a former Olympian (won the bronze in tri in 2004) in our wave? She ended up winning the race--except she didn't, in my opinion. A former Olympian, especially a former Olympian who raced and medaled in the Olympics as recently as 2004, has no business competing as an age grouper. SORRY! No respect for that decision on her part. Get out of our race! (Okay, I know I'm mean and uncharitable....)
(*As an aside, did you know she was training to be an astronaut when she decided to go pro in triathlon?*)
(*One more aside. In my opinion the runner-up this year, Catherine Sterling, who is, incidentally, coached by Kurt, is the true 2011 AG National Champion. Just my opinion, but of course, I'm right. Susan Williams is a champion--no doubt--but not an AG champion. She was, and should still be, a professional.)

Okay. Sorry about that. Back to the swim.
There were a lot of fast women in my AG.
And they swam fast.
I swam fast, too, or so I thought. I felt very strong throughout the swim and I was sure I would click my watch at swim's end and pat myself on the back for a job well done. Oh, so wrong, so wrong. My swim was the slowest Oly swim I have ever had ! I'm still not sure if it was a slow swim because I was slow, however, or because it was a bit long. I'm going with long, so don't burst my bubble and tell me it was dead on, okay? I don't care if you were there. Just shut up already.

So, I swam and swam and then I finished. 25:19.
As I emerged from the water we were directed onto these slippery stairs. The volunteers yelled, Careful! And Don't slip!
And so, naturally, I slipped.
Then I got up and ran while trying to strip off my wetsuit, which I've never been able to do prettily or gracefully. Usually there is snot dripping out of my nose (or water that appears like it could be snot) and I can't wipe it because I'm struggling like a mad woman to get my arms out of the suit while I stumble forward awkwardly. Finally, I did manage to get the suit off.

_______ Okay. I'm sick of writing. More tomorrow. I know you CANNOT WAIT. But tough. You have to.

2011-08-15T16:04:00.000-07:00

I'm racing this coming weekend.

And you know what I think?
I think I need to wear my padded sports bra underneath my kit. It is one thing to have boobs that are pathetically tiny. It is another to have pathetically tiny boobs that also SAG. It's just such a mark of becoming old--the sag. The sag needs to be masked.

And since the race is Age Group Nationals, I think it is only appropriate to try to disguise my boobs as something other than breasts that have nursed three kids and seen 41 years. If I can't win my AG at Nationals (and let's be frank here, even if I did amazingly well I would not win my AG at Age Group Nationals...), isn't it almost as good to have the winning 40-44 (padded) breasts? Perhaps I could find a padded bra that makes me look a size D? Wouldn't that be outstanding? Of course, one pad would likely become misplaced and make me look like I had a goiter coming out of my armpit or something.

The last few weeks my (very little) training has gone relatively well. I've been swimming quite a bit and I seem to be OVER my swimming hump. I currently do not hate it! This is likely because I have been doing only open water swimming. How can you NOT love open water swimming...? It is summer; it has been warm... I can swim endlessly in the ocean or lake.

My biking has felt fresh and good. This is mostly because I have not done a ride longer than a few hours. It's hard not to ride well when you only have to be out there for a small chunk of time. I have been playing the VI game with myself on these rides. VI stands for the words Variability Index (and I never ever had that wrong not even a little). Basically it is a measure of how evenly you have ridden. To achieve greatness in VI land you have to stick super super close to a specific wattage throughout your ride--going up hills at the same wattage you go down... etc. To entertain myself I have been trying to see if I can get my average VI for a ride down to 1.01. I have achieved 1.03 consistently, but I'm not down even to 1.02 yet except in small segments. It's a fun game, though. You should try it.

Running, frankly, has kinda sucked lately. It's humid. It's hot. I'm pokey. I can't seem to run fast or far. I'm basically frustrated by it, but I am hoping that as my mileage picks up again I will get some of my zip back. I seem to run faster the more miles I run. Those miles don't need to be fast--but they need to exist.

I have put on some weight, which has gone straight to my gut and which I have to carry with me on the run, but at least I don't look quite so scrawny as I did pre and post IM. Now I just look scrawny with a little Joe. It's lovely. And I don't even really have a Joe. I think I may be imagining it. I just feel like it's there... mocking me. You can try to put on weight, and I will let you--but you will not put it on where you want to put it on! (read BOOBS or ASS.) So I am still boobless and assless--but I do have a nice little belly.
Such is life.

So, there you have it. An update on my life and training.
In other news, Jordan ran a road race (5.2 miles) last weekend with Andy. She loved it.
She is a little studette.
And better still, she sorta looks like me...
and if she is a studette, doesn't that mean I am, too?
RIGHT? Here is Jordan finishing the race with her dad.

And here she is with her dad and her Uncle Doug. (and Noah is in the background giving her bunny ears...)

No Blues for Me!

2011-08-06T18:01:00.000-07:00

The one good thing about feeling really really really really crappy all day on race day is that the post IM blues.... well, they don't really exist. I would much rather NOT relive that day, thank you very much! However, the weeks following IMLP have been quite awesome.

I don't have many good pictures of me when racing IMLP. I looked sick and scary during the race, especially at the end. The photos of me during the race simply provide photographic evidence that nausea and dehydration in the extreme are not exactly becoming. So we'll just skip any more pictures of that, and I offer you a slew of other pictures instead.

Here is a picture from the next day at the awards ceremony--the podium of men/women 40-44. You can see Ange and me up there, and between us is my friend Stacey, who placed 2nd in our AG
.

Right after the awards ceremony we went cliff jumping. Ange's brother, Jeff, and his wife, Leigh, found this place when they were hunting around for things to do on Saturday before the race.

Okay, I admit--I was really lame and didn't get in the water. I still felt sick, and just couldn't handle a jump! But Andy jumped and I sportingly took pictures. The kids loved it. It was definitely a highlight of the trip.

When we got home from Lake Placid I immediately re-packed and headed up to Maine with the kids. We stayed at my parents' awesome house on the ocean in Cape Elizabeth. Alina and I ate and ate and drank margaritas while we ignored the mayhem of our six kids as they danced, stomped, ran and yelled around us. It was fabulous. Jordan and Maria (Alina's oldest) went to kayaking and paddle-boarding camp during the day. The camp was at Kettle Cove where Ted's (a tri friend from Cape) daughter, Maggie was the instructor. They loved camp and Maggie and now Jordan is begging for both a kayak and a paddle board. At the end of the week Alina actually splurged an DID get a paddle board! She and Maria are hooked.

Here are our other four kids at Kettle Cove playing while Maria and Jordan kayak.

We spent a lot of time just hanging around the house. It's a pretty sweet spot, so there is not a great deal of incentive to leave. The pups loved it, too.

Maria and Ernie playing tug.

Lara and Dara sitting by the frog pond.

Maria, Noah and Ernie wrestling.

Hazel being a very good girl (for once).

Jordan. Just standing there.

We also managed to get up to Ocean Park (30 minutes south) to get in some family time with the Holts and some beach time.

Here Maria an Alanna (cousin) make a break for the ocean while Lara re-thinks her desire to take the plunge.

On Friday we had a huge party in Ocean Park--the "fiesta"--to which a ton of my extended family on the Holt side came. Laura, my sister, got Max (Alanna's miniature pony) and gave the kids pony rides. Awesome day, I must say.

I'm back to training.
I love training.
And I especially love training in Maine.

I had a few short and fast bike rides this week. (Riding in Cape Elizabeth is FAR less hilly than in my section of Massachusetts, so I feel like a rocket when riding there.)
I had a few slightly slow but enjoyable runs along the ocean, and I had three awesome swims.

On Monday I went to do my swim workout in an outdoor pool in Portland. Perhaps unsurprisingly, outdoor lap pools in Maine are rather uncommon, so swimming in one is a super super special treat. Alina watched the kids while I did my workout. (She is a tres good friend, no?) On Wednesday and Friday I swam in the Atlantic off Old Orchard Beach. The water is SO warm right now--I swear I could've gone sans wetsuit. But I didn't. Too much icky seaweed to wrap around my ankles. Anyway, on Wednesday the water was pretty calm so I swam all the way from Ocean Park to the Pier in Old Orchard and back. It's about 2.2 miles round trip and I felt awesome the whole way. On Friday it was a little stormy out to sea, and the swimming wasn't so fab. One of these days I will learn that if I swim very very fast on the way OUT, it is unlikely because I have become part shark overnight. Rather, it's the current. I swam out 15 minutes on Friday afternoon, and then turned around. It took me 32 minutes to get back. I swear to you I was swimming in place. I would take a breath and look to the shore, and I would be in front of the same beach house-- for ever. I just didn't move.

Training for Kona really hasn't started in earnest.
But really? I can't wait until it does.

Kona!

2011-07-30T20:25:00.000-07:00

The race sucked for me, tis true. I did not ever feel great, and I only felt good for one lap of the swim, and most of one lap of the bike. What's worse is that my feeling like shit and barfing didn't occur because I fucked up training, or pacing, or planning my nutrition. It was because when you have succumbed to a virus, it does not pick up and leave after 24 hours, even if you feel better. Its vestiges still lurk and fester. Your white blood cells have done their best to fight it off, but the fight has left you white cell deficient, weakened, and fragile. If you try to exert yourself in a serious way after having a virus a few days earlier, like say, by racing all day long, your body will do its best to shut you down. It's not ready to race. It is still recovering.

That is what I learned from this experience.

Of course there is a part of my brain that insists I DID do something wrong; that if I had just eaten at the right time, or not gotten cold before the start, or if I had put just 2 scoops of EFS in each bottle instead of 2.5, then I might not have suffered so badly.

But mostly I learned that if you become ill during the week before an Ironman, you are likely in deep du-du come race day. Hence, the wisdom I leave you with is this: if you have an IM coming up within seven days, bathe in hand-sanitizer, do not leave your home, and do not get within five feet of your children or spouse or anything they touch. Got it?

I find it rather amazing that despite my rather shattered dream of breaking 11 hours--of holding my arms in the air in total glee while skipping under the IM arch and singing, I AM THE CHAMPION! Despite that.... I still got what I really and truly wanted: KONA.

For the first few days after the race I viewed this as a gift from a God I don't believe in. But as the week progressed, I began to view it differently.
I now believe in God.
No. Just kidding. I'm still not sure on the God front.

How I feel is this:
My time was not what I wanted it to be. That's true. But it is also not a bad time. Is it Kona worthy? Oh... I don't know. But I do know that had I NOT had the fitness I had going into this race, I would not have been able to execute the way I did when things went wrong. 11:22 is not what I would've hoped for on a healthy day--but now that I have had time to gain a little perspective, I realize it's not a bad time considering I did it on a few sips of Coke and with frequent vomiting breaks. No, I wasn't able to be the speedy marathoner I know I can be, but hey, I'm pretty speedy for an undernourished barfer! And it's the training I did that allowed me to be that pretty speedy undernourished barfer.

I have ten weeks until I race in Kona. I can barely stand how excited I am to go there, and to see it all, and to race again.

I'm also really excited about the rest of my season. In a few weeks I will go to Burlintgton, Vermont to race in AG Nationals. That race is going to be FUN, mostly because I have no expectations and I really just want to go because all of my friends will be there. Then I race Pumpkinman Half, which I have always wanted to race, and which is in my very own favorite Maine.

Bust most of all, I'm excited to race in Kona. I plan to enjoy it. I plan to enjoy the swim in that warm ocean, I plan to enjoy that hot and windy bike, and I plan to enjoy dying in the sweltering heat as I run a sub -four hour marathon. (I do not care if it is 3:59:59--I just want to go UNDER FOUR HOURS GOD DAMN IT!) If I have to crawl on the swim and bike, that's fine with me. Because as I said, I plan to enjoy this race. I'm going to Kona!

I haven't said my thank yous yet.
Here they are:
TriBike Transport--my awesome sponsor
Ernie and Hazel: because they love me even when I am a pain in the ass, needy, stupid, sick, tired, angry, and wrong.
Jordan: because she gets the Kona thing. She gets it.
Jen: for laying the foundation
My mom: for being my practical, loving, generous mom
Ange, all this would not be fun without you
Alina. you know. xo
Kurt. I was able to pull that fucker off because you trained me so well.
Andy. because you have always been there waiting for me outside the medical tent. and for other stuff, too.

I Wish I Could Make This Funny....

2011-07-29T13:05:00.000-07:00

I pride myself on my entertaining race reports. This one is not entertaining, nor is it funny. If it seems to be tinged with sorrow and self-pity, it likely is. I just can't seem to make light of this one. I worked so hard, and I couldn't make use of that work come race day.

It's hard to suck that up, even though I am working on it, and even though I know I should, and even though I know I am hardly the first or last to experience dreaming big, and then crashing and burning on race day instead of realizing that dream.
_____________________

There were no Tums in my transition bag. I must have only put them in my T2 bag, figuring I might feel sick after the bike... but not the swim. Luckily I did have a few in my Bento Box on my bike. I ate three of them immediately with some EFS once I was safely astride Mrs. Z.

Then I waited.

Roil. Roil.

And I waited. and waited.

Roil.

And then I started to feel a little better. Time to really start biking!

My first loop I mostly felt good. I took in all of my EFS, all of my planned gels, and all of my planned salt tabs. I kept my watts exactly where Kurt and I had discussed, I stayed aero, and I rode evenly.

But then I started to feel sick. I was playing back and forth with this girl I can only describe as Aquawoman. She had a lime green kit edged in black, and she had a lime green bike to match. I think if she had had a lime green cape and helmet it would've been the perfect look. Anyway, we were playing back and forth when I first started to feel queasy again.

I reached in my Bento Box and ate my final two Tums.
It did not help.

I decided to slow down, drink a little water, and sit upright. Being in aero was making me even more nauseated. Aquawoman rode off.
It was on my way back on the out and back that I knew I would be sick and it would be soon. My only question: Should I make myself sick or should I let the puke surprise me? I decided making myself sick would be safer.

I pulled over to the curb, slowed way down and let it come. I didn't need to put a finger in my throat; after I stopped fighting it just came up--quite forcefully--as puke often does. I barfed over my bars, while riding (I am very proud of that even though I only was going about 3 mph). After I puked I did unclip and put my foot down for a second. I used some of my Ironman Peform stuff (I had no water at the time) to clean off the bars, and I tried to breathe deeply. Then I started riding again.

I was shaky. But I did feel tons better. Here is where I think I made a tactical error. I decided to wait before taking anything in again. I feared I would be sick again if I tried to drink or eat. In retrospect, though, I should have tried. I had thrown up a lot of what I had taken in on the first loop, and I was definitely down on calories and electrolytes. I AT LEAST should have taken some salt tabs. But I didn't. I got a bottle of water and sipped carefully until mile 95 or so. then I tried to take part of a gel. At mile 100 (roughly) just as I was turning the corner out of Hazelton, I pulled over again, and threw the gel and the water up. At this point my stomach was just totally used to rejecting things. Alert! Incoming! Incoming! Get ready--okay--here we go---- HURL!

focusing on not hurling

I took nothing else in for the final 12 miles of the bike. I just survived. I tried not to think about the run. I tried not to think about just calling it a day in transition. I could not give up on this race. I had worked so hard for this--and I had wanted to go to Kona so much. I was in such good shape; I was so ready to race!

My average watts for my second loop were about 10 watts lower than my first lap. I tried not to think about this as I handed off my bike to the volunteer. It had been a slow bike, but it was okay. It had to be okay. I ran to get my transition bag, and ran into the tent. My friend Stacey was there. You are in third, Mary, third! she cried.

Third? I was in third ? With THAT swim? With THAT bike?

Now I knew I couldn't give up. I got out of there fast, and began my run.
I felt stiff at first, but loosened up fast. My legs felt SO fresh--. I could do this!

But then, within about 30 seconds of that thought, I had another wave of nausea. I took baby steps. Easy easy easy. Don't throw up yet. Don't throw up yet.

I saw Kurt on the way downhill, out of town. I gave him my Garmin. It wouldn't catch a signal, and also, I just didn't want to know my pace. I just did NOT want to know.
Take in fluids, he said.
I've been throwing up, I whimpered as a reply.

And then I kept running.
I didn't force myself to take in anything for miles one and two, but at mile 3 I decided I must try. A marathon is longggggg and cannot be run on will alone, especially after throwing up all morning. So I took some Perform. And then I ran another quarter mile. And then I stopped and puked that Perform right up.

I can't tell you what was going on in my head at that point, because I can't remember. I think I just turned myself onto autopilot and continued to run. I saw Brian, a friend who works at Fast Splits. He said, Looking Good, Mary. And I said, I just threw up.
I think that might have been the extent of my thinking at that point. I threw up. I threw up. I threw up.

I did not take in anything again until mile 8. Then I took some Coke. The Coke settled. It didn't come up. I would be okay! I could drink Coke! At mile 9 I took some more Coke--and I swallowed a salt tablet. Go me!
Then, just before mile 10, I pulled over to the side and puked up the Coke and the tablet. The salt was partially dissolved, and so my throw tasted very salty. And I thought, At least it is a new flavor of barf...I felt the roof of my mouth with my tongue and it was sore and raw. The acid from my throw up had burned me.

At mile 11 I saw Jesse. It was weird--I was running so slowly at that point--and I saw him in slow motion. He said, It's time to dig deep, Mary.
Did he know? Did he know? I wanted to cry. I wanted to just let go and cry and sink into the pavement. Did I look so bad already that he knew I was about ready to vomit, once again, on his shoes?

I saw Kurt on the way out of town again. He said, Do you have any salt?
I said, No.
Here's what's weird. I did have salt. What I meant was that I could not take salt. I couldn't take anything. But I was too sick to explain that, so I just kept running.

At each water stop I would put ice in my mouth and squeeze a sponge over my head. I didn't try to take in anything else. I just sucked on the ice and let it cool my burned mouth.

I'm going to be honest. I don't remember the rest of this run except in a sort of weird slow motion movie kind of way.

People were cheering and sometimes said, Go Mary! but I didn't know who they were. I remember I tried to take a salt tablet and I chewed it; the salt spread throughout my mouth. It tasted good, but I spit out the rest. I don't remember why.

At mile 23 I was walking and I saw Kurt. You must run, Mary. You are still in this. You must run. There were red horns coming out of his head, his eyes were glowing yellow and I could faintly make out a pitchfork in his hand.
I can't, I said.
You have to run, Mary. Just keep shuffling.

I started to shuffle.
I couldn't keep my head up. It kept dropping back, jerking back, like it does sometimes when you fall asleep while sitting, only to be awakened by the jolt of your neck snapping backward or forward.
I had stopped sweating. I touched my face and it was was cool and dry.

Apparently I passed my family at mile 24. Noah held up the poster he had made for me to see, and I did not look. I did not know he was there, even though I guess he was right in front of me. Later I found he had wept because I hadn't even looked.

Thinking about that makes me ache.

I ran all of the last mile, but it still took me over 12 minutes to do it. When I entered the oval, a girl in my age group passed me. She ended up beating me by 32 seconds. I could not catch her; I did not try. My head was tilting backward, and I tried to correct it.
These pictures were taken in the oval.
And you thought I was exaggerating....

I really could not keep my head up.... it was very strange.

When I reached the IM finishing arch I did not smile. I took a few steps, and then, feeling happy I could do so, I let my knees go. Then volunteers picked me up and put me in a wheelchair. And then I lost consciousness. When I became aware again I was in the tent, and they were lifting me on a bed. Then they said, What's wrong? How do you feel? I just looked at them. I didn't know what to say. I feel sick, I whispered.

They put in an IV. They took my pulse. They took my blood pressure.

Later I found out the stats: 1.5 liters of fluid by IV. My pulse was 62. My heartbeat was irregular. My blood pressure was 80 over 60. When they weighed me, after my IV, I had lost 4 pounds since check-in for the race. Here is what I have to say about that: the number I saw on that scale I have not seen since I was 12 years old.

I finished the race in 11:22.
My swim was 1:07. My bike was 5:57. My run was 4:09.
I finished 5th in my age group. Number 4 passed me during the last three miles. Number 5 passed me in the oval.
To finish this race was the hardest thing I have ever done.
Bar none.

Game Changer

2011-07-28T06:59:00.000-07:00

The morning of the swim it was announced that our swim would not be wetsuit legal. The recent warm weather brought the temperature of Lake Mirror above 76.1 (I think that's it...) and according to WTC rules, any swim over that specific temperature would not count toward earning a podium spot or a Kona slot.

Because Lake Placid is known to be wetsuit legal, this decision did not sit well with many competitors. The wetsuit buoys you up and makes swimming less tiring. Without it, many feared a challenging and slow swim at best, and a near-drowning at worst. The directors gave us a choice: wear a wetsuit and have your race "not count" according to WTC standards, or race without and remain in contention for awards and the possibility of earning a spot to Kona.

Obviously Ange and I chose not to wear a wetsuit. We are both strong swimmers (ahem... with Ange being considerably stronger than me! ha!), and though we knew our respective swims would be slower, we also knew we'd be fine. Still, there were many things that pissed me off about this decision by the directors. First, we would have no idea when racing who had worn a wetsuit and who hadn't. For those of us trying to get podium and Kona, this was an annoyance. Second, the actual swim would be conducted with a billion people safely in their wetsuits, while the rest of us swam practically nude beside them. Anyone who has completed an IM swim knows the intensity of the swim in terms of body contact. Being without a wetsuit when so many around us had them on was not fair, or safe. Third, the decision completely changed the allocation of Kona spots to each AG. The 40-44 AG for both men and women are the largest groups, and are allotted the most spots to Kona as a result. However, only the people who chose not to wear suits would count, so that changed--and it changed the MORNING of the race! Our group, 160 strong, was reduced to like 50, and we lost a slot. The 30-34 AG, with only about 80 competitors, were now awarded 5 slots. Why? Because WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG you make decisions differently than when you ARE OLDER. As my 40-44 year old friend Bob said, I based my decision to wear my suit on the basis that I was there to perform my best in the Ironman competition. Going without would have cost me 10 minutes minimum. Bob is an extremely strong athlete, and in my opinion had a shot at earning a Kona slot. Still, his maturity led him to put aside his pride and race so that he could have the strongest race possible--which is what he had set out to do. Younger athletes clearly viewed the race differently, as evidenced by their decision to race without suits. It wasn't so much about their own race as it was how they stacked up against others. This is most definitely an age thing... as you age you are more apt to race within yourself and for yourself--not for the glory of how you compare with Frank down the street. When you are in your 40s you simply have less to prove.

Okay. I'm done with my diatribe!

Here is the story of my swim.

I got in the water with Ange. She went to the front line, straight to where the melee would be. I went to the right and the front, where it would also be insanely combative, but less so. We got in the water with about 15 minutes to go time. The water was cool, and I was nervous, and the cold water and my nervousness combined, and I became chilled. Then I became very cold. Then I became very very cold. I was shaking and chattering and blue. I looked around for anyone I knew. Who could keep me warm? I needed a body--I was desperate. I could feel the hypothermia coming on--having had it so recently I know what it is and how it feels. I was about ready to ask a stranger if I could snuggle up next to him (there were no women anywhere to be found) when I saw Peter.

Peter is a new friend. We attended training camp together a few weeks earlier. So I knew him, but not very well. I think he might have been slightly taken aback when I asked him if I could please spoon him and put my head under his armpit. But he was generous... Thank you, Peter! I hugged him from behind and kept hugging harder. I wanted to crawl INTO his wetsuit--and under his skin. I WAS SO COLD. A man next to me asked, Do you know him? I said between chatters.... Ummmm, sort of?

A few minutes before the canon went off I left Peter and headed to the front. Swimmers closed in around me and they all had wetsuits on... grrrr.... When the canon went off I got clonked on the head and body several times, but then I began to swim and I was okay! I stayed to the far right, and I swear I had relatively clean water for a very long time. Every once in awhile I would move closer to the bouy line, and then, suddenly, I would find myself being pawed and kicked and I would panic... and I would drift out to the side again. But mostly I felt even and steady and calm. I was having a good swim.

I went through the first loop in 31:45. Without a wetsuit... this was an AWESOME split for me. Wahoo! But at the start of the second loop my stomach started to feel just a bit queasy. I slowed a little to let it settle, but it got worse. I actually felt seasick, but there were no swells, so I figured it must not be the water that was causing me to feel so ill. I rounded the buoys to head back to shore, and it was just about then that I knew I was going to be sick. I stopped, but before I could get my head above the water the vomit rose through my throat, out my mouth and slowly mixed with the water around me.Without meaning to I breathed in the vomity water mix and began choking. Right then I thought I might drown. I couldn't breathe as I choked, I didn't have a wetsuit to help me stay up in the water, and my stomach was making another play at pushing out all I had had for breakfast. Somehow I kept the vomit in my throat though, and after a moment I felt it trickle back down into my belly. I stayed treading water for a few moments and tried to breathe deeply. I took a mouthful of lake water and swished to get rid of the taste of barf. Bodies hit me and swam around me. The slightly barfy water around me settled and floated away.

And then I started swimming again.

On the way into shore I decided that just because I had been sick did not mean my day was over. I would take it easy until then end of the swim, and then I would take a few Tums when I first got into transition. It would be okay. It had to be. I was feeling better. I had just needed to get rid of a little breakfast.
But I was really shaken. It was not an auspicious start to the race.

I got out of the water and saw the clock: 1:07 something. Well, that had been a pretty slow second loop, huh! But I wasn't disappointed; I thought it would be worse. My stomach felt pretty good now, and I was going to be fine.

Exposition

2011-07-27T19:13:00.000-07:00

It was the best of races, it was the worst of races; I raced with wisdom, I raced as a fool; I believed, I was incredulous; it was the race of Light, it was the race of Darkness, it was my race of hope, it was my race of despair.

-with best regards to my dearest bud, Dickens.

Here is the greatest aspect of my race:

I stayed the course, and I am going to Kona! I did it!

Here is the worst aspect of my race.

I trained consistently, intelligently, and hard. I was ready to execute a perfect race. But, as is frequently the case with IM, things went wrong and mistakes were made. And though I overcame what went wrong as best I could, I struggled. In fact, this race was the single hardest thing I have done in my 41 years of existence: harder than any training I have done, harder than my previous efforts at IM, harder than childbirth. To finish this race I to go to a place I have never been—and it is a super bad ugly black mossy confusing icky place that I really don’t want to visit – like ever again.

The real story of my race began on Tuesday morning of last week. I woke up, ambled around a bit, and then suddenly and quite powerfully, I threw up on the bathroom floor. Lara had been sick with a stomach virus over the weekend, and so I knew – I knew what was happening and deep down, I knew what it meant for my race. I spent the morning hanging over the toilet. At noon I felt slightly better and so decided I should attempt my run. This was the first race mistake I made. The temperature was in the 90s, and my stomach was fragile. I made it 20 minutes, and then ,without much ceremony, I threw up on my neighbor’s lawn.

I got over the bug quickly. By Wednesday I was eating a little and sipping electrolyte-laden water, and by Thursday I actually felt pretty good. The only problem: I had lost weight and I felt weak. I knew I needed to eat, and I did try, but my stomach, though okay, was still unsure that consuming large quantities of anything was smart. And…..okay, okay… I admit I felt pretty panicked about the fact that I'd been sick, which didn’t really help the nausea. I so so so wanted to be 100% for Sunday… and things were not looking good.

I packed up the car and kids and set off for Placid on Wednesday afternoon. Ange’s family, my family and Ange’s brother Jeff’s family had rented a big house together for the week. The one fear was that I would get Ange sick. I bought like 10 bottles of hand sanitizer and basically bathed in it, and had my kids do so too. Luckily, she did not succumb! Phew. That would be a special thing to have hanging over your neck, huh?

Ange and I spent the next few days doing our best to lounge. We discussed the race over and over and over and over again. People around us were kind, but most likely so agitated with our slothdom and our race-obsessed banter that they wanted to throw us out a window. Kurt came by on Friday and Saturday to check our bikes and ease our pre-race nerves. His visits didn’t really quell my roiling my stomach, but it was still really good to see him. I appreciated that he didn’t roll his eyes (in my presence anyway) when I nosed around for reassurance just one more time… and one more time after that… and then just one more time and…..

Race morning Ange and I arrived at transition early. (with Ange there is NO arriving late. Trust me!) We got body marked by Ange’s most awesomely awesome athlete, Marissa, and then we went into transition to do our stuff. As the morning moved on Ange became more and more intense and focused. She was practically burning up she was so ready to race. I tried to suck up some of that heat for me. Here we are ready to rumble.

I already look a little pale and sickly, but Ange is looking Goddess-like, don't you think?

Okay. More tomorrow.

Testing

2011-07-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

In the last few weeks I've been tested.

There are some tests about which I can write, and some I cannot. I will say I survived most of this testing--sort of.
Pat on the back for me.
or not--depending on the test.

Anyway. Last week I spent in Maine, living at my parents' house (my parents are away) with Alina, my kids, and her kids. This is a ritual week for us; we put the kids into day camp, and then spend our free time swimming, reading, shopping, and lunching out. We joke that it's the best week of the year. It's really NOT a joke, though. It truly is.

The week is an indulgent one. On any day I have an extremely hard time saying no to treats, but this week I have a nearly impossible time saying no. An early morning swim followed by a margarita at lunch? Sure? Heavy cream and strawberries for dessert? Oh, but of course... A nap while the children go bananas downstairs--rocking out to blasting tunes while dancing in their underwear? Okay! Allowing the dogs to swim in the ocean and eat seaweed and crab shells even though I know they will stink up the entire house.... Who could say no?

I also had trouble on the shopping front. I indulged by buying myself all sorts of goodies. Andy experiences constant disappointment in me because I fail to contribute to the design and decoration of our house. I want to... I just become paralazyed when faced with choices on the interior design front. I like what others buy--I like others' homes--but I don't trust my own decorative sense. BUT this week I decided I would buy something for our home.

When I showed him off I'm not sure Andy knew what to say or think.
Hmmmmm. Did I fail on this one?
Here is my other contribution (yes, it's possible I have only contributed two things independently)...

It's a theme--see?

I also bought Ernie a studded collar. I know you can't really tell in this picture, but he looks pretty studly, and with a name like Ernie, he has the whole package if you know what I mean.

Anyway. I was also tested in that I had to give up coffee this week. I am SUFFERING. On the second day of shopping I purchased this magnet:

This pretty accurately summarizes my response to a life without coffee. One of the better aspects of racing next Sunday is that Sunday morning I can have more than one cup of java.

Still on the theme of testing, yesterday I drove to Billerica High School and took the MTEL English subject test. If I pass than I will be able to get a preliminary certificate in Massachusetts to teach high school English. I am certified as a middle school English and history teacher, but I need a different certification to teach at the high school level in public school. I signed up for the test in a moment of panic and whim in which I imagined I absolutely positively MUST get back to teaching this fall. I have since reconsidered; I will, perhaps, look to fill a maternity leave this winter or spring... or I may wait until next year to begin. This fall is too soon--and anyway, the high school English positions are few at this time of year, only weeks away from the start of the school year. But, in any case, my impulsivity is quite developed, and so I found myself in a sweltering classroom in Billerica yesterday afternoon facing a test which actually required me to THINK. (And this after a week of margaritas at lunch...)

I didn't plan well. I had a good breakfast, but unfortunately failed to consider I might become hungry during the test--or even before it started. We were asked to arrive early for a 1:15 start. Apparently, however, the test actually began at two; they simply wanted no one to be late so they essentially lied, saying we MUST report at 1:15 or we would not be allowed to take the exam. Hence the entryway and lobby of the high school were filled with prospective teachers at approximately 12:45. We were damp and stinky in the heat--grouchy and parched and looking forward to sitting in a fan-less, stale classroom, sitting cramped at a graffiti-laden desk with an answer booklet and a few number 2 pencils.

And I was hungry. And the test, which I had assumed would be three hours max, was, in fact, to be four hours long. (Nice that I even looked at the information sheet, huh?) I did have a slightly curdled can of yogurt in my purse, but I had failed to remember a spoon. Should I eat with my fingers? I seriously contemplated it. But, much like deciding NO, I can hold it, I don't need to stop at the bathroom now... I soon regretted that decision. By four p.m. I was so hungry I contemplated eating my answer booklet. My stomach grumbled so loudly and consistently that other test takers began to give me at first sympathetic looks--and then simply dirty looks.

But the truth is, I like taking these types of tests. And I liked this one. The questions were challenging, but by process of elimination I was able to nail most of them, I'm fairly sure. I would have benefited from a little review, of course. I felt slightly stupid when I saw that some test takers had whole books on what to study and how to take the test. I didn't even know what the test included.

The essays were the most fun. They essay topics are so general you can really take the question any way you want. One question asked us to reflect on a passage by Jamaica Kincaid and the other to discuss quest in a particular novel. EVERY novel has embedded within a quest... so I could chose to write on what what I wanted. I wrote about Lily Bart in The House of Mirth, because she is one of my favorite characters; beautiful and tragic,and fatally flawed.

My final test is that this week I tapered, and next week I will continue to taper. I do. not. like. taper. It makes me feel helpless. My runs and bikes have felt sluggish, and though Kurt assures me this is normal--and in truth I assure others it is normal too--I just can't stand it. It makes me lose confidence in all I have done.

And on that note, I will go out on my meager little ride and run, and hope that the hay which I have accrued is enough, and that next Sunday I will reap the benefits of placing it there.

2011-07-13T18:51:00.000-07:00

I'm not really sure I could get any more cynical.

I think everyone's motives are based in self interest. I think people's passions often mask deep personal issues they are trying to bury or destroy. I think nobody actually gives a shit about anyone else outside of their small sphere of people they rely on for love and care, and when that love and care is withdrawn--for whatever reason--they smart for awhile and then abandon their care in kind.

I also don't believe that people change except in small ways. In fact, as we age I think we become even more exaggerated versions of the people we once were.

Ironically, I read with vigor novels of the Bildungsroman genre. I love watching a character struggle, mature, and then find his place within himself and society. But then, soon after I finish such a book, I (not ironically) feel hollow. We grow, but arrive nowhere. We grow. Then lose anyway. We grow, but as Estella says at the end of Great Expectations, “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching. . . I have been bent and broken, but—I hope—into a better shape.”

A better shape. Is there such a thing? Can something bent and broken BE a better shape?

Yes, given that my life view is such a -- well, a downer--you'd think that I would not become victim to hope and the romantic. But there's the irony! I am! It's like this vestige of youth I can't shake... the idea that I can be a more perfect version of myself--that I can love perfectly--that I will be loved perfectly--that around the corner is peace, happiness, true, pure love....
etc.
Seriously. What the hell is wrong with me?

The answer to this is to do an Ironman. Doesn't that make sense? Can't you see it? I'm moving forward--toward something big and great. Sure, it gets me nowhere except another 140 miles down the road. But nothing gets us anywhere... so why not swim, bike and run my way to nowhere? At least my bike is inanimate. I can love her and I can create that she loves me back unconditionally. At least the open water gives me stillness and peace. At least I can lose myself temporarily in the pounding of pavement.Swim, bike, run. It's all good. And more of it is even better.

Which is why I am going to crush this race.

Lemons

2011-07-03T08:47:00.000-07:00

The last few weeks have been on the rough side for moi.
I'm struggling. I'm under a rather severe lemon attack. These lemons are pummeling me; burying me. I can't seem to escape and come up for air--and I feel very bruised.

The timing off this is not auspicious. In three weeks I plan to compete in Ironman, and my plan is to do well. The lemon problem has sidelined me a bit.
This is not to say I haven't been completing the prescribed training. Oh! But of course I have! It's more that my head is in cloud-ville... I'm not focused as I should be. And I'm sad. Generally I don't write when I am sad. Forgive me for not updating my blog -- like at all -- in the last few weeks.

_________________________________________
Enough on that.

I went to a training camp in Lake Placid last weekend. We rented a gigantic house. It was awesome. Being away from home helped me to focus on my workouts--and WORK OUT WE DID. On Thursday night we went for an hour swim. I love Mirror Lake--especially when it is not thick with Ironman competitors, but placid and serene instead. Then we went out to eat and I had a big yummy beer--I think it was some sort of brown ale--and this sweet potato burrito thing which was scrumptious.

The next morning we rose early so we could ride 112 miles of the course and complete a transition run. For the first loop I rode with Ange. We chit-chatted the whole way, and drafted off Kurt for most of it.

The second loop we separated so that we could each ride at our own IM watts and practice riding well--low VI, in aero, focused. Ange rode away from me in a matter of minutes (no shock there! ha!) and I was on my own. I managed to ride quite well. I kept to my watts and tried to ride smoothly. I find the LP course a challenging course on which to ride well. The first part is slightly up, but then DOWNNNNNN for so so so long, and you average like 50 watts. Then it is rolling for quite a long time and then UPPPPPP for 11 miles or so. On the 11 mile stretch it's hard to ride within your prescribed watts because of the constant climbing. Getting off the bike I was MUCH more shot than I had hoped to be. I did manage to run for a bit, though, even though it was not as fast or quite as far as it should have been.

We went out to dinner again that night and I again had a tasty beer. I allowed myself a beer every night of camp. YUM.

On Wed. we did a swim time trial in Mirror Lake. Kurt divided us into two groups--those who swim slower than 30 minutes for a half, and those who swim faster than that. I didn't know with whom to go. I swim just about exactly 30 minutes for a half. I decided to swim with the fast group so I could practice trying to stay on their feet at the GO! and so I would have people to chase throughout the swim. Well, let me just say... that was a flop! the fast group went off and I only hung on for about 5 seconds before I was toast and they were gone in a flurry of splash! I still had a good swim, though.

After the swim we rode one loop of the course easy, and then did a transition run. Even though the ride was easy, I was still totally pooped. I wanted a nap, not another ride! When we got home I disobeyed the recovery protocol and jumped in the hot tub. That was heavenly....
We then went out to eat and I had the yummiest Oatmeal Stout. I'm fantasizing about that beer right now....

On our final morning we ran 20 miles of the course. The first ten were to be easy, the second ten much harder. I must admit I did not feel too chipper at the start of this run. 20 millllllessssssss owwwwwwww. But it was fine. I ran with Amy, a PBM coach and a great runner, and we chatted most of the way, which made the first 10 miles fly by. Thanks, Amy. The second ten we picked up the pace considerably, and there was no more chatting! I stayed with Amy until mile 18. Then my right knee, which has been a little sore lately, started to really hurt. I think it's tendonitis of some of the tendons surrounding the knee. A doctor at our training camp (Peter) thinks it bursitis. Whatever-- it hurt, and it slowed me way down, and I had to let Amy go. I've been babying it, and I think it will be okay. (I hope.) Stupid overuse injuries. Humph.

I followed up this weekend with a pretty substantial week of training. Until now, I had never completed two centuries + in one week. I've also never run two 20 milers in a week. Suprirsingly, the old body held up. Now I'm letting her rest a bit.

Send me good loving and hugs to get rid of the lemons, okay? Thanks.

You Say It's Your Birthday!

2011-06-22T06:04:00.000-07:00

It's my birthday too, ya!

Okay.. what's weird about today is that I know many many who share this b-day. One is Molly. If you get a chance go and say Happy Birthday on her blog, and also wish her the best at IM CDA this weekend!

So, I continue my trend of not posting often.

I think you might be actually grateful about this if you knew how boring the contents of my brain are of late. Mostly I think about the cracks, and how many things are close to falling through them. The minutiae one must remember come the end of the school year (especially when one has three elementary kids) is quite astounding. Field trips for which one must prepare bag lunches, sunscreen and a water bottle for field day, the piano concert, the band concert, the final soccer game to which you must bring Popsicles, thank you cards for teachers, teacher gifts, bus driver gifts, birthday parties galore (for which you must get presents), end of the year poetry readings, or book sharing, or the end of the year class party to which you are invited! Man, it's relentless and intimidating. I feel at any moment I will forget something.... and appear the negligent parent with the poor, lost neglected child.

Then there's Lara's bday, my mom's bday, Father's Day, my sister's bday, my bday... training camp next week -- must pack! and then train train train train ... the hours are UP THERE as I move toward the final build for IMLP. And the dogs have kennel cough, and Hazel ate a plate of brownies and was literally up ALL night barking and going bananas, as if she had just snorted Coke or something.... etc etc and so on.

So, there you have the contents of my brain.

Last weekend we went to Maine to celebrate my mom's birthday. I will add here that she is basically the hottest 70-year-old you will meet. Really. She's always been pretty, but she is also in shape and sharp, and just all around amazing in the smoking grandma department.

Here are a few photos from the weekend. I'm a little dismayed at how my super cool empire waist dress makes me look slightly pregnants. But other than that, these are some good pics of the Holts.

Andy and Lara

Noah and my nephew, Sam.

Alanna, my niece, and Finn, my nephew

Andy and Me

Odessa, my brother Jordan, and my nephew, James

Jordan and me

AJ, my brother, Jordan, my brother, Dad, Mom, Laura, my sister, me, and Christina, my sister

Noah, Jordan, Mom, James Alanna, Dad, Finn, Sam, and Lara

We had a nice little party for mom, and took pictures to document how awesomely cute all of our children are...

And I had a nice run up in Maine. Nothing like the smell of honeysuckle and salt water. Just awesome.

In other news, I dyed my hair brown. It was blondish/gold for a long time, and the thing is, I was just sick of it. I figure I'm nearly at the time when I can no longer just have BROWN hair, b/c I am just starting to find white hairs here and there (okay FINE, I have been finding them for quite awhile now!). Soon, I will have to highlight to hide all of the white. You know?

These are the kinds of things I think about...

truly vacant.

And now, it's time to finish drinking my burnt coffee, and then get my ass out on the bike before the half day bus roars to a stop in front of my house and lets off my little wonders.

One last thing, Hazel's licking Ernie's privates as he lies there in ecstasy. Seriously, he is lying on his back, paws in the air, head back and mouth open. She's literally slurping. This is disturbing to me.

I figure I should leave you with at least one distinct image before you click on out of here... :)

And Happy 41 to me!

This Won't Be Long

2011-06-13T19:01:00.000-07:00

I keep going missing.
I have an excuse. I'm training. And when I'm not training I'm thinking about training, or planning someone's else training, or re-planning my own training, or questioning my coach about my training, or reading about training.

I'm an extremely interesting person, don't you think?

I remember a long, long time ago I thought it was an amazing achievement to run 20 miles in one week. This really was a long time ago... like when I was still in college. I remember I kept a log of my running, and I distinctly remember hitting 20 miles one week and being in total awe. I had run 20 miles IN ONE WEEK. ME! 20 MILES! ONE WEEK!

And now, at 40, I think I'm lame if I only run 20 miles, swim only 7500 yards, and bike only 120 miles in one week... which is what I did last week when recovering from Mooseman. I was glad for a recovery week. But I still feel lame.

The next three weeks constitute the big push toward IMLP. Putting in big hours and big miles make me tired, but it also make me feel safe. What else can I do but log the time and distance? It's the only control I have over my performance in this game. I must do the work and I can do the work. I can't control anything else.

I have thoughts in my brain, but I'm simply not sure they are worth putting to paper. (or computer screen.)
Here are some anyway:

I've been thinking about how it's crazy that they assign The Sun Also Rises to high schoolers. I'm quite sure it's been awhile since you read it, and I'm quite sure you don't remember what it is about, because, well, you read it in high school. I will just mention, then, that it is a novel thematically appropriate to those older than 16. Most of the characters spend the novel wasted. Seriously, it seems that living as an expatriate post World War I in Paris was about -- drinking. Drinking and searching for passion in a world in which ultimately you are nothing more than a speck in the scheme of things. So you should get drunk. Then Drunker.

I've also been thinking about freedom and control, mostly because I am reading Franzen's Freedom, which is both good and depressing, though not as depressing as The Corrections. We both want control and to be controlled, and then we feel suffocated by it and can't escape it.
Maybe Hem was right and we should just drink...
Except, well, he shot himself in the end.

You can tell I've been spending long hours on the bike, eh? I'm so far into my head I can't find my way out.
4.5 hours on Mrs. Z tomorrow! ueueueu!

Mooseman: The RR

2011-06-06T14:22:00.000-07:00

This weekend I traveled to Newfound Lake with my family and competed in the Mooseman Half Ironman. I raced Moose in 2009 and had a super race, so I looked forward to returning and doing it again. Alas, the Moose I knew and loved was changed! Changed, I say! The swim was the same... maybe a little closer to being legit 1.2 miles, the run was the same, but was definitely made legit (was 12.9--now your standard 13.1) and the bike course... oh MAMA! New and Harder!

But let me start at the beginning.
In the beginning God created....

me.
Okay. What next.....
Saturday was the usual blur of pre-race stuff.... eat/register/eat/rack bike/eat/stress out/eat/stress out more etc.
I did have a lovely breakfast at the 50s Diner in Tilton which consisted of pancakes, eggs and a plain bagel, and for dinner a lovely time at Uno's during which I ate chicken parm and a big beer. (I know--sacrilege to drink before a race. But I like a good dark beer the night before, which is interesting since I actually don't drink often at all.)

On Sunday morning Ange and I met in the lobby of our hotel very very early (like 4:20 a.m.). We wanted to park IN the park, and to achieve that we had to be the first ones there. We got our coffee, got in the van, and drove. When we arrived a half hour later, the policeman on duty informed us we were too late, there was no more room in the inn. (I'm just full of biblical reference today...) But just like the Mary of yore, I did not give up... no, I pleaded...(so did Ange)-- Isn't there anything for us? Oh please? And then he melted b/c Ange and I are so sweet, cute, and lovable, and he told us to go on in. Really! No lie! That's how we got into the park!

It was an auspicious beginning.

After parking we puttered around in transition, got everything all squared away, and then pretty much stayed in the porta potty line until it was time to don our wetsuits. One not so auspicious thing... I was on the rag. And not just on the rag... I was on day 2, the dreaded day, the d-day, the day you feel like you might bleed to death. I know not everyone has periods so heavy the amount of blood lost could fill a huge sink... but oh yes, I know some of you do. And you know what I'm saying here...Being on day 2 the day of a race that will last 5 hours... not good. So I walked around all morning with super plus tampons in my hand, hoping I could put one in as close to the swim as possible... not that it would really make a difference.The tampon would last what, an hour?

I let the whole I will likely pull an Uta thing go while we headed to the lake for the swim start, though. All was good. I was psyched TO RACE! But maybe not so psyched to get wet. The air was cold, and the lake was cold, and I was cold. I really x 5 billion did not want to warm up for the swim. The thought of that cold water slithering up my back was almost unbearable.

But I sucked it up. I got in. I swam about 10 strokes. Then I got out. That was my warm up.

At the cannon for our wave, I dove and started hammering. Cold cold cold! Then I clocked a girl in the head--very hard. And she was pissed. She clobbered me back. Then she pulled my wetsuit from the back and dragged me down under the water.
Great start.
I don't blame her. I call it race rage. I get it too.

But it did throw me a bit. I caught my breath and began to swim again. I had to breathe every stroke and I felt lightheaded and weak. I began to wonder whether I could even finish the swim. I was so. so. so tired....
But then, after about 500 yards, I started to come around. I still breathed every stroke, but I became less desperate to breathe, and the rhythm returned to my stroke. Still, I mentally noted: must practice hypoxia at beginning of open water swims... must practice immediately!

The swim went on. I turned around some buoys. Then I panicked. Wait, was I going the right way? Was I following the buoys in the right order? Then I realized the sun was on the other side of my face, so I must be returning to shore. That was right, wasn't it? I looked around me--mostly blue caps, the wave before us... this must be right. So I just kept swimming. and swimming. Just keep swimming! That damn saying of Dory's (from Nemo) always go through my mind when I race.

I finally got close to shore, swam until my hands reached the bottom, and then stumbled out of the water. I clicked my watch. 29:47... okay! Not bad! I heard Andy yell, Go Mary! Then I began to peel off my wetsuit. Except... it wouldn't come off my left arm. I struggled and struggled and finally got the wetsuit strippers to pull it off. Ugh.

The rest of transition was -- transition. I moved fast. I probably could've moved faster.

I mounted the bike and took a deep breath. Calmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Here is the thing about the bike course. It is actually really really fun. Unfortunately, it is also really really slow. You basically ride a few miles, then go up a mountain for 6 miles (Kurt kindly corrected me--it is only 3.47miles... though I beg to differ... It just HAD to have been longer than that! :) (and it was a mountain which ends with a 16% climb). Anyway, then you go down the mountain (soooo fun) and then you ride on a boring highway which rolls a bit. Then you do the whole thing again. I liked the climbing and I loved the descending.. and well, it was also nice to just ride in between at an even pace. The only problem was that it was a hard course to ride evenly and well--and also that it was a slow course. The top female bike time, done by pro Lesley Paterson, was 2:40+, if that gives you an idea. I think the top guys-- Maxim Kriat and Paul Ambrose--rode it in 2:20.

I saw Kurt both times I began to climb the mountain. That was a boost. Thanks, Kurt!

The only bad parts of the ride were in order: 1. The second time around the loop that 16% climb really did suck. 2. I felt kinda crampy (period, mentioned earlier). 3. I got a little wild on a descent and cornered (or didn't corner) onto the sandy shoulder of the road and almost flipped off my bike. But I recovered (miraculously). 4. I never caught up to Ange, which was a motivator and I was disappointed not to gratify that motivation by ride's end. I did ride with another woman in my AG, though, named Anna, who would later run me down and place 2nd AG to my 3rd.

I happily report that I dismounted by swinging my leg over the bike rather than stopping, un-clipping, and then carefully stepping off my bike. It's the little things. I clicked my watch... and noted that I had finished in 2:56, so under 3 hours, which had been my goal. Yes!
In transition I remembered to take off my helmet but not my sunglasses. Sunglasses are fine, but I do look very dorky in them. I also forgot to pick up my Garmin. So I was running blind, and with sunglasses. Not good.

I saw Andy and the kids coming into T2, and again when I left. They cheered wildly and I was psyched. I exited transition with Anna, and we climbed the first little hill together. But then she sped by me like I wasn't even moving. Have I mentioned that Anna ran a 1:25 and finished first at the Quincy Half Marathon last month? Unfortunately, I did know this going into the run...and I let her go.

I felt good running. And then it hit me...
Hey! I felt good running! First mile was 7:20. Second was 7:10. Not so bad! Of course it didn't STAY not so bad... of course not. But I felt good for a long time. At mile 5 I started to drag a bit and tried to sip some gel. My stomach was having none of that, though, so I decided to stick to water. As an additional bonus it did not appear that I had yet pulled an Uta. I had on my black TriBike shorts, but nothing had gone beyond said shorts. At mile 6 I saw Andy and the kids. Here I am running by... this video courtesy of Ange's dad.
Jordan wants to know where I put the keys to the car, which was why she keep screaming at me, Where are the keys? (I had left them in my transition bag after saying I would leave them by the car. oops!) Later she would accuse me of ignoring her... Ummm. Right. I was in a race, Jord?

Andy shouted to me that there was a girl only about a minute and a half ahead of me that was fading. I nodded. Got it. At mile 7 I saw Kurt and he said the same thing... only now she was only 35 seconds ahead. Had I really closed the gap that quickly? Turns out they were talking about two different people! Andy was talking about Anna, who I knew was ahead, and Kurt was talking about Becky (who would finish fourth) and who was fading slightly and only about 30 seconds ahead, but I did not know this at the time. Still, both Andy ad Kurt had confirmed there was someone I could run down, so I decided to just move it, and run down every girl I could until I found her. It took until mile 8, but I did find her. She had a bright yellow hat and a Team Psycho shirt and a 43 written on her calf. There she was! I made the pass. Phew.

But then I was tired. And running scared. And I still had 5 miles to go. Oh boy... now it gets FUN!

I began drinking Coke at mile 9. I think it helped, even though it also made me feel slightly ill. I kept turning to see if Yellow Hat (aka Becky) was there, but I couldn't see her. Did this mean she had hung on and was right on my ass? At mile 11 I was reaching delirium, and once again I turned to look, but this time I saw.... something yellow. OMG! Yellow! I began to run as hard as I could. I had to get third! I would not get passed! I tried to keep my pace... ouch ouch ouch ouch. After what seemed an eternity, I found Andy and the kids at mile 12.5, and Kurt a little while later. Kurt said, You got this...

by which I hoped he meant yellow hat girl could not pass me now. But I wasn't sure, so I kept running as hard as I could until ahhhhh...... over!

I ran a 1:36 high, which is the fastest 1/2 marathon I've had off the bike. My time for the race was 5:06:54. I finished 3rd in my AG so I got myself some syrup! I finished 16th overall for women, and 10th overall for women not including the pros. Ange won our AG in just under five hours, and Anna beat me by about 2.5 minutes in 5:04.

It was a solid race for me. I'm psyched to take on Placid.

Thanks to Andy for being there and supporting all this shit, and thanks to Kurt, too.

And thanks to Ange, Anna and Becky, who made this race an incredibly fun competition for me.

Hola

2011-05-26T03:30:00.000-07:00

Yes, well. It's been a long time since I last posted.

There should be some great reason for it. But there isn't. I've been busy coaching. I've been busy parenting. I've been busy training. I've been busy playing with and walking and not training my dogs. I've been busy reading... some books with literary merit, some books with little; I've been busy cruising Facebook. I've been busy cleaning this shit hole of a house.

Oh wait... scratch that last one. I guess I haven't been doing too much cleaning--that would be why this place is a shit hole. We even have rodents. I discovered a mouse taking up lodging in the dog food container. The little dude scared the piss out of me. He looked at me with those pools of big black, innocent eyes....and I screeched.

Since I have taken such a long blogging hiatus, I feel it important that I provide a truly insightful, interesting, illuminating post. Alas, I'm not sure I'm capable of doing so. My tiny brain appears to be vacant, even in its far reaches.

One thing on the busyness front: I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time preparing. I prepare lunches, I prepare meals, I prepare for my workouts, I prepare for the breakfast the evening before... If I added the time I spend each day in preparation, I believe the amount would be shocking to both you and me.

Add to this that I believe I might have a slight OCD issue going on with certain types of planning.

For example, I could go out Saturday night (let's just pretend for a moment that actually ever happens) get completely lit, arrive home at 3 am stumbling, and I guarentee I would still set up the coffee machine so all I have to do is press ON in the morning, place my vitamins and other supplements in my cereal bowl, take out a coffee mug and put it next to the coffee machine and the sugar bowl, take out my cereal (Grape-nuts and Go-Lean), my box of golden raisins and a banana, and place them next to the cereal bowl (with vitamins/supplements stored neatly in it).

Exhibit A:

I do this every night. Sometimes I even prepare for breakfast the next day directly after I finish breakfast. I kid you not.

Breakfast preparation is not the only obsessive preparation in my daily existence, either. I must make the kids lunches for the next day as soon as they arrive home. I must lay out what I'm going to wear the next day even though I work from home and wear sweats.
And I spend incredible amounts of time preparing for workouts.

I get on Gmap pedometer and prepare my route.
I make the bottles. I make extra bottles just in case.
I prepare the fuel belt. I put the water and/or sports drink in the little 8 oz flasks and store them in the fridge, and I make sure the fuel belt has the necessary gels in its pocket and is placed next to my running gear.
I put all bars/gels/food to be taken on route for a ride in a cereal bowl which I place in the cabinet to keep it safe from dogs (and mice).
I charge the iphone and use an elastic hair band to attach my license and bank card to it
I lay out every item of clothing I will need, including matching socks.
I pump my bike tires.
I put the aero bottle on the bike.
I put the Garmin computer on the bike.
I put my gloves and sunglasses in my helmet.
I place my bike shoes next to my helmet.
I lay out transition wear including my little Nano and my Garmin and my untied sneakers with fresh socks in them.
I pack my swim bag making sure I have two clean suits, two fresh towels, my workout written out and stored in a zip-loc bag, my pool ID card, toiletries, a razor, extra caps and goggles (I have about 20 caps so I can always match my cap to my suit) and a gel and water bottle just in case I need it.

Now, lest you think this is just a classic case of OCD, I should point out that this obsessive preparation does not extend to everything in my life. For example, I don't plan my meals except breakfast, and I don't plan my family's meals either. I don't plan when I'm going to the grocery store--I just go when it is clear that the family will soon starve to death if I don't make a trip. I don't plan to go the library, yet I find myself there at least two times a week. I'm often late for appointments, and my system for remembering what I need to do on a daily basis is on a rudimentary desk calendar underneath my computer (this strange and antiquated method left over from my teaching days), and frankly, is not consulted nearly enough.

So why the obsession with preparing for breakfast, what I will wear, my kids' lunches, and workouts?

I think I know the reason. Do you know the reason?
Hint: the reason is not that I am simply obsessed with food and working out (though I am admittedly and obviously obsessed with those things....)

Next post: in which I congratulate you if you figured it out, and I enlighten you if you did not. (And I enlighten you even if you could give a rat's ass... :)

Sudbury Spring Sprint Race Report

2011-05-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

I love this little race.

It's super short. (400 yards in a pool, 7 tame miles on the bike, and 2.2 flattish miles on the run.)
It's close to home.
It's the first triathon I ever did.
What's not to love?

It's also a race at which I can measure myself from year to year. Because it's a pool swim the course is literally exactly the same every time I race it. And so..... drum-roll...... I present my Sudbury Sprint Stats from 2007-2011.... tad-dah!

Note: They don't separate out transition times in this race, so each split appears a little slower than it actually was b/c it includes some transition time, too.

2007: 48:11
swim, 6:22, bike, 25:16, run 16:33
6th AG

2008: 44:56
swim, 6:02, bike, 22:33, run, 16:30
2nd AG

2009: 42:06
swim, 5:42, bike, 20:51, run 15:33
2nd AG, 2nd woman

2010--Didn't race. Did Florida 70.3

2011: 41:11
swim, 5:47, bike 20:06, run 15:13
1st AG, 2nd woman, 10th overall

In 2009 I came in second (barely--my friend Tracy was right behind me by like two seconds...) This year I came in second again. But I lost to different women. In 2009 I lost to a woman in my AG. This year I lost to an up and coming 19-year-old ITU girl. Grrrr.

I did have a great race, though and a big P.R. (Thanks, Kurt!)

The swim:

Okay, this didn't go so well, I admit. I felt that totally hypoxic I am going to die I must slow down right now feeling just 75 yards into the swim. Not Good. Then a guy passed me. Also not good. Then another guy passed me. Really really also not good. The second guy (both were teenagers) splashed water in my mouth as he passed and as I tried to take a breath. Not his fault, but I inhaled water and had to stop momentarily as a sputtered and coughed. That sucked.

I will add here that because it is short and a pool swim, many high school swimmers seem to do this race. And high school swimmers are faster than me--by a lot--as evidenced by the two young boys whose bubbles I ate.

After I got my sputtering under control I continued to chug along, praying no teenaged people would tickle my feet again. Finally I reached the last length, and I dragged myself out of the water at the end, clicked my watch, noted it was a 5:29--which was slow, but not so slow considering I had stopped and choked, and then hauled ass as fast as I could to get to the timing mats outside so my swim time wouldn't appear to be pathetic.

The Bike:

I still can't get on my damn bike well. I'm sure it's painful for onlookers to watch. I run like the wind and then come to a dead stop to get on. Once finally on I clicked my watch and began to push. WOAH. Why were my legs on fire? Oh! Right. I'm racing! I looked at my Garmin to check my watts, but I couldn't even see the numbers because I was moving and working so hard. I passed a girl. I passed a guy. I turned a corner. My quads burned. I tried to keep my panting under control. Then a guy passed me.
Ummm. What? No. Nobody in this race can pass me. This is a small town race. I. will. beat. you. in. the. small. town. race. MUST.BEAT. MAN. ON. BIKE. GET. EVIL. MAN. ON. BIKE. GET. MAN. GETTTTTT. MANNNNNN. It took me a few minutes but I passed him back, and didn't see him again. I passed a girl. I passed another girl. I passed a guy. etc. And then it was over.
My watch read 22.5 mph, 18 minutes and something. Okay.
I'll take it.

The Run:
I also don't get OFF my bike well in case you were wondering. I stumbled off the bike and ran to the timing mats. I noted my hands were shaking in transition and I had trouble unbuckling my helmet and putting on my shoes. Go Go Go! my mind reeled. Go! Go! Go!

I ran out on the course and heard my kids and Andy scream my name. oh! Hi! Hi!

I hurt. And I coudn't run fast. GO LEGS! COME ON LEGS..... GO! They sort of went. How come running off the bike feels so GOOD in practice and feels so HARD in a race? (Ummm... maybe b/c you are going all out in the sprint, I know, I know.) My legs really did feel like bricks. And my breaths came in sharp, painful little gasps. Every person I passed must have thought I sounded on the verge of collapse.

At about mile 1.75 my legs finally started to come around. I had .4 miles to go at that point.
There is a reason I seldom do sprints.....

I saw Andy and Jordan on the sidelines cheering as I ran in. Go Mommy! Go!
I clicked my watch and saw the 41:11. I did it! A PR! Even with that crap swim!

Hours later I found out I was second. I had hoped for first....and RATS. I had lost it to the 19 year old... all in the swim. :( But I did have the fastest bike split for women. That felt good. :)

I collected my award (a Fuel Belt which I gave to Jordan--and she was so excited. She always wants to use mine for her one mile runs around the block), and watched my friends get theirs.

A great Mother's Day for me.

Drive

2011-04-30T07:33:00.000-07:00

I got up this morning to go swimming.

I didn't sleep well last night. I don't know why. I felt absolutely exhausted, but my mind raced. Unfortunately, my mind didn't race with interesting thoughts--just thoughts like... Why can't I sleep? I've been lying here at least an hour. Why can't I sleep? I've been lying here at least one hour five minutes. Why can't I sleep? I've been lying here an hour and a half! Why can't I sleep? I'm so pissed I can't sleep! etc. etc.

So. Again. This morning I got up to swim.
And I felt tired. And unmotivated. And kinda pissed.

I did make it to the pool. I did get in the water. I did do a little over half the swim I had planned to do.

But it was one of those mornings during which I wondered, irritably, why do I do this? I've heard a zillion times.... It's not as if this is your job. No one is paying you to do this.

I know that. My teaching, for fifteen years, was my job. Ten years ago my job shifted and divided into two: a teacher and a mom. Now my job is to be a mom, take care of this house and its dogs, and to be support and coach to adult triathletes and runners. Those are my jobs.

Triathlon is not my job.

Except on most days, I treat it that way. My workouts are priority. I may push "work" duties aside, but I rarely shift a workout unless parental duty forces my hand. I work at triathlon on average more than 12 hours a week, year round. I force myself to complete my workouts, even though 50% of the time I really really don't feel like doing so. My thoughts gravitate to triathlon most of the day, every day. A central goal of my life is to make it Kona, to be in the top 1% of women in my AG nationally, to win local races.

Triathlon is not my job.

So what is it? To say it's a hobby trivializes it at best, but to say it's more than that risks making me appear misguided; a fool. What's worse is that I'm honestly not sure why I do it.

I don't always enjoy it, that is for sure. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes I feel so strongly that I don't want to get my body wet in the pool, or make my lungs ache when running, or make my crotch burn after too many hours, too many days in a row, on the bike. Sometimes is even an understatement, actually.

But then sometimes, when swimming, I feel smooth as my hips rotate and I cut through the water and I think, I love the feel of the water against my body.

But then sometimes, when running, I descend a hill after climbing and climbing and I feel high, crashing down the road on my strong legs--legs that only get this strong if you work as hard I have worked, for years. and years.

But then sometimes, when riding, I experience a moment of bliss. It's beautiful, I get a whiff of the pungent, spring earth; I discover a tree, isolated from the main roads, dripping and fragrant with lush, pink cherry blossoms. I take a wrong turn and realize I have opened the door on a whole new area to ride; I come across a pasture ripe with the smell of manure, and see a donkey, his head giant atop his wiry gray, furry body, and he looks at me, and his large, brown watery eyes connect with mine as if to say, How did you find me?

And it's those moments that I know why, but mostly I don't know why.

I remember reading in some tri magazine once that you need to spend time figuring out why you do triathlon. You'll need to call upon that reason when you don't want to get up in the morning to swim, or when you go for a ride, and are two hours from home when the skies open up and soak you, and you have no where to go except through it, or when you are in a race and you are falling apart and just want to crumple to the ground and weep.

What I find interesting is that I really, truly don't know why, and yet I force myself to get up to swim, I force myself to ride home instead of calling a cab, and I push through the race, hard, and I don't cry. I never cry.

In 1997 I ran my first marathon. I remember when I decided I would run it. It was just before Christmas, in 1996. I had run with a friend that morning, and she planned to run Boston. We ran ten strong miles together, and she questioned why running a marathon seemed so out of reach to me. I remember thinking that if I could run a marathon I would be a different person: the kind of person who ran--who could run-- a marathon. I longed to be that person. That person was stronger than me, fitter, a true athlete, truly worthy (of what, I am not sure).

I trained that winter using Samuleson's Running for Women as a guide. I did all of my training alone, fearful that I would reveal I wasn't truly a runner to anyone I ran with. I needed to get through the training on my own... in my own private world of pain and triumph. After long runs I could only get through the day if I took a three hour nap following the workout. These were the days before gel--and I did my runs with water and determination, and that's it.

BUT WHY? I had to slay that proverbial dragon, that is true. I wanted to prove to myself that I was not lazy, not a slug, not fat--that I was the kind of person who ran marathons. I believed, somehow, that I would be transformed by running a marathon.

The funny thing? I was transformed. I thought of myself differently after I finished that race. I didn't have to fear that I couldn't run a marathon... that I wasn't the kind of person who could run one. And that was enough for quite a long time.

But then it wasn't anymore.

And now, I am forty... forty-one in a few short months. I have run 8 marathons. I have run a marathon in 3:15... and Boston at that. I have completed two Ironmen, both in respectable times. I have ranked as an All-American in triathlon for the last two years. I have won a few 5ks; a have won a few local triathlons. I coach others to do the same.

And all of that feels good to say, to write, but I know you don't really care. It doesn't affect who you think I am. So why do I do it? Why do I keep getting up to swim when I really don't want to?
Is it the fear that I will undo all that I have done if I stop?
Will I not be the person I created anymore?

And is the person I created really any different than the girl, single and alone with her dog, who trained for the marathon in 1996?
I think so. I also think maybe not.

We are Insane

2011-04-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

Today I rode outside.

It was really fucking miserable outside.

The start of the ride was okay. It was raw, yes, but it wasn't so bad. I had on wool socks. I figured I'd be okay.

An hour into my ride the skies opened and it started to pour. Ten minutes later sleet began hammering against my helmet. Ten minutes later I began to fantasize about getting windshield wipers for my sunglasses. The icy rain drove against me. It. sucked.

Soon my wool socks weighed about 500 pounds. My hands (in cotton gloves, yes cotton) were frozen and I couldn't shift. I rode in one gear for the final 10 miles of the ride. That was fun.

I didn't exactly feel sorry for myself. Honestly I just felt like an idiot. I could've completed the ride on the trainer, but I didn't because I felt so sick of the trainer that I thought (stupidly) that anything would beat it. I spent the remaining time of the ride contemplating how I must certainly be the only one dumb enough to be out on a day like today. I did see a few runners out, but nary a cyclist. Of course I didn't see a cyclist. Only someone who is borderline insane, like me, would ride in this.

By the time I got home I was so cold I could not remove my clothing. Andy had to pull it off me before I got in the shower. Fortunately he remembered how to do this. When I got in the warm shower my hands and feet started to throb. Thawing hurt. It hurt very very much.

But finally I did thaw. Then I toweled off, dressed and went to log into Training Peaks to admit what a fool I had been to ride outside.

Minutes after I logged in to report the workout Kurt emailed back to say that he had been riding in the rain, too.
He had?
Really? In that cold rain?
And he had been out there longer than me.
And he was talking like it was no. big. deal.

Then Ange emailed to say she had just experienced the worst ride ever... that she couldn't even undress herself she was so cold upon finishing it. It was driving snow the whole time.... she could barely make it home. But unlike me she had STILL gone on her transition run whereas I had selected to strip and get in a hot shower.

AND then, a little while later, I learned that my friend Mike had been out riding too, along Sebago Lake in the driving snow.

Wow. I'm definitely not the only insane one.

I didn't think I was a bad ass, really. I just thought I was crazy for even thinking of riding in that kind of weather. (Of course I am just coming off a case of hypothermia, but still.) But the truth is most of my friends are as crazy as I am. They really are. In fact, they are sometimes more crazy than me.

And I guess that's the rub, isn't it? You don't get good in this sport by deciding it's too wet and cold, that getting in the ride outside is not worth the risk of dying from hypothermia. You get good by training insane amounts in sometimes insane conditions. If I was the only one crazy enough to ride in shit weather like today, then I would probably be winning race after race. But I'm not. I'm not because Kurt, and Ange, and Mike....
are out there training in that shit, too.

Let's Get This Part-A Started!

2011-04-21T18:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the most indulgent day ever. It's vacation week, so I have the kids home all day, but yesterday my in-laws took them. They did wholesome things like play charades, and then they went to the library. I kid you not. They really did both.

Anyway. While they were being treated to wholesomeness instead of another episode of Good Luck, Charlie, I was out spoiling myself. First I got a really good massage from my masseuse, Margaret Karg. She is the BOMB of sports massage. She stands on you and uses her feet using this technique called Ashiatsu Oriental Bar Therapy. After my massage I got a pedicure and manicure. My feet are nasty on a good day: post-marathon they are nasty squared. I'm always grateful when the pedicurist even agrees to deal with them at all. Now my toes are painted grape, and so are my short fingernails. I feel very.... grape. I then went to my very favorite consignment shop and bought several stylish, adorable, inexpensive used items of clothing. Oh, and I also bought a funky pair of jeweled flip-flops and some cool earrings. I then trotted off to Starbucks and had a large hazelnut latte. I then went home to finish a super book I was reading (The Paris Wife--a story narrated by Hemingway's first wife. Absolutely brilliant. So good. Made me want to go to Paris and drink and write.) Finally I took the dogs for a very long walk in the woods.

WHAT A PERFECT DAY.
The only bad part was that it ended, and the kids came home.
That was a bummer.

After my perfect day I decided I was ready to face the music:

It is time to focus on IM training. Bring it on, Baby!

I got up this morning and had a decent swim workout. I was slow, but at least I completed it, which is more then I can say for my swim workouts in the last week as I anticipated running Boston. Then I had kids over all day b/c it's school vacation week and they BEGGED to have friends over and well, I caved. By the time said kids had gone home (actually one was still here) I finally got on the bike for my second workout, and did... oh..... not quite the whole thing.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat start.

Sigh.
Okay.... so maybe I start TOMORROW.
That's it. Tomorrow I will execute it all perfectly. I know it.

I leave you with a few Boston Marathon pics.
What have I to say about these pictures?
(Other than, yes, I know I stole them and they say proof all over them as a result.
Naughty.)

But really, my first thought upon seeing them?

Dear GOD I need a dye job. My hair looks like shit! As soon as I saw the pics I scheduled a hair appointment for a cut and color. It's orange for crying out loud! When did this happen? How long have I had horribly disgusting orange hair????
Also, I think it is very curious that my lips appear to already be BLUE. Remember the hypothermia? What was going on? Had my body temp. already dropped? Very very very interesting, I say.
I know I am not smiling in any of these pictures. Frankly, I was working too damn hard to smile. Frowns and grimaces are much more becoming, anyway, don't you think?

Boston Marathon! The RR

2011-04-18T19:57:00.000-07:00

I had a great run.

Don't get me wrong....
It did not feel great, especially at the end, but it was still a great run.

This is the short version of my RR:

I felt GREAT for the first 10 miles! Then I felt pretty good for the next 6 miles. Then I really did not feel very good for the next 6 miles after that. Then I really wanted to collapse on the ground and cry and have someone carry me home. Then I saw the end and it looked about five thousand miles away and I ran like a wild woman with hands and legs flailing all over the place and spit coming out my nose and eyes and mouth and then I was there!! And I crossed the line! And....And....

WTF! They so don't catch you like they do in IM. I wanted a catch! Instead. I staggered a bit and then some very stand-offish dude said, Nice Job. Now keep walking.

Isn't that just about the essence of the marathon???

****GREAT!/ Good.../not so good/ Dear GOD end soon or I will die for sure/....THE END THE END THE END! Stagger.****

______ Long Version of RR:

The pre-race festivities were lovely... until about 10 minutes before the start. I was hanging with my friend Zac (who went a 2:54!! GO Zac!) and my new friend Teresa. We had a leisurely stroll to the athlete village, and then a leisurely pee after waiting in line at the porta-potties, and then we went to drop our bags off at bag check. Except.... where was bag check? Too late we realized that bag drop off was like a mile away. And it was 10 minutes til go time....
Oh yeah... there was a big OH FUCK right about that point.

Zac took our bags and ran them out to the baggage check.
He is a God.
I will be eternally grateful to Zac. You are the man. I owe you like 500 Guinness. Thank you.

Meanwhile Teresa and I started jogging to our corral. We kept jogging. And jogging. We were in corral eight of nine. There were 8000 people in front of us. We had to go like a mile down to the road to get to our starting point. Then, once the gun went off, it took us more than five minutes to get back up the road to the starting line. Insane!

The first miles were very difficult... because I am not patient. Boston is an insidious course. It starts downhill for the first 4 miles. I ask you, who needs 4 miles of downhill at the START of a marathon? And more importantly, who needs four miles of uphill starting at mile 17? That is like a super cruel joke. Really. It is.

I tried to hold back, but I felt like I was running on air. It felt SO easy. But I had to hold back. You can't jackrabbit a marathon--even if it does start downhill. My patience was further tested because there were, well, 8000 runners ahead of me, and there was literally no room to move. Between trying to keep a reasonable pace and continually getting boxed in, I felt like a caged animal.

This feeling pretty much lasted until mile 10. I felt super, but I also felt pissy. I knew I could fly, but I couldn't.grrrr. Get out of my way!!

By mile 13 I no longer felt boxed in, but there were still people all around me. However, at this point I was no longer holding back anyway. I was just holding. I felt good, sort of... but certainly not quite as super as I had been feeling at mile 10. Still, I had no doubt I could keep pace. And I did. For four more miles.

I saw my mother and father in-law at about mile 15, and that was a boost. Then I saw Andy and the kids at mile 15.75, and that was a huge boost! My kids had this sweet sign Jordan had painted... Go Mom! Keep Running! SO adorable. I will keep it forever.

Unfortunately, the sign did not prevent me from the feeling the inevitable. Soon after I passed them I started to no longer feel good--at all. In fact, I felt barely tolerable. I knew I could continue on indefinitely, but frankly, I wasn't too psyched about what the next 10 miles might hold.

I hit the first hill. Ewwwww. Then that was over and I was all good again. I saw my athlete, Kelly. Big Boost. Then another hill...and ewwwwww. Wow. My pace was really dropping. Then it was flattish, and I was okay, but really, well, hurting. And then there was Heartbreak Hill... ewwwwww

At this point I drew strength from my two marathon IM experiences. I had felt so much worse during those marathons. And here? Well sure, I hurt. But was I barfing? no. Was I shitting? no. Was I about to pass out? no. Okay then. I was fine. Just run and stop your bitching, self. Just run.

By mile 21 I was feeling maybe a little loopy and definitely achy, and I had definitely slowed down, but I noted that I was passing many people, so even though my pace had slowed considerably, I was still doing better than some others. That is always a boost, don't you think?... I may feel like crap, but I'm sure I don't look as bad as that dude...

The last miles of the race were really a blur. I hurt. I hurt everywhere. I was being passed, but I was also passing people. I really had to talk myself through... Okay... only 5k. You can do a 5k. Okay... only 2.5 That is nothing. Only one mile. Mary... you have this. Just don't crack. etc etc. Until the very last step.

I crossed the line at 3:15:54. I had hoped for as fast as a 3:13... but I was still very very very very happy with a 3:15... (no matter how high that 3:15!) I had to run 6:55 pace for the last .3 to get that 3:15, so I am so giving myself credit for squeezing in under the 3:16 mark!

Ahhhh ... finished.
After I finished things weren't so good, though.
I felt ... cold. Like immediately. And they make you walk and walk and walk and walk. My bag was so far away...
By the time I had found my way to baggage claim I was shaking--really quite badly. I got the bag, and then tried to find Sharon, my ride home and also the person who would take me to my friend Jeff's (Sharon's husband) office, which was walking distance and I could get changed there.

The only problem was that along with shaking I started to get disoriented. I could not figure out how to get where I was to meet her. And then I couldn't remember her name.
And then I knew I was in big trouble.

I found an EMT and tapped him. I said, shaking, I'm really cold. He looked at me and then everything went very fast. I was in a wheel chair, and then the medical tent. I saw my friend Mark Scribner when I entered and he told me he would find a way to call Andy. And then there was a thermometer in my ear and a group of people putting me on my back and piling blankets on me. I was shaking so hard that I was convulsing, my jaw was so clenched I couldn't really talk, and the woman pushing me in the wheelchair said my facial coloring was blue when they had found me.

A little while later they asked me questions. I don't remember them really. I just know I could not remember Sharon, still, and I couldn't remember Andy's phone number! My temp had climbed to 91 degrees but it wasn't budging. Then they put this super cool blanket thing with a hot air device that blew up like a raft type thing over me. They put my head under it, and wouldn't let me out to peek unless they were pulling it back slightly to take my temperature. Soon after I was able to give them Andy's number, and I was also able to tell them where I was, my finishing time, my race number, and that my friend's name was Jeff. A+ for me!

At about 5 pm my temperature finally got to 97.5 degrees and I was set free. It was a happy moment, although to be quite frank I was slightly worried about leaving that super cool air blanket thing and getting chilled again. The doctor began to give me instructions, then changed his mind, turned to Andy and gave them to him instead. If she gets confused... and her temperature falls below 94... emergency room.

Okay then!
Isn't that an exciting story?
I am such a sucker for drama...
My temperature stayed fine, btw. I almost roasted Andy and my kids out of the car... but it was fine.

The important thing is that it wasn't my running that put me in the med tent. It was my post running situation, which I blame on the BAA for making the baggage claim a mile away from the damn finish. I love the Boston Marathon. But I won't be checking a bag again, that's for sure!

Congrats to all my friends who ran. The conditions were perfect, and I know many people had a great day. I had a great day too.
Thanks to Kurt. You are the best!
Thanks to Zac. Thanks to Mark. Thanks to ANDY for coming to save me!
and thanks for reading!

2011-04-13T06:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't been writing lately, and I haven't been reading blogs. This isn't really on purpose.

I just am not getting all da shit done these days. I won't list da shit. It would be boring for you, and depressing to me. But suffice to say da shit is getting in the way of my blogging and spending quality time in the blogosphere. But onward.

Let's talk about my ride yesterday, shall we?
It's April in New England. Daffodils. Birds chirping. No place to hide and pee because the leaves aren't on the trees yet.
Springtime also means it's time to clean off all that winter sand from the roads. No one likes sand, especially road cyclists, so generally I like to see those sand sweeping trucks out and doing their thing.
Except when I am actually riding. Today was the ride of the sand sweepers......they were out in droves and they were blowing that fucking sand at ME, baby.

I pedaled along, minding my own business, when I'd see one in the distance, coming toward me, roiling up the road, the earth, the dust, the SAND.

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
And there was no where to go ... no where to go.... but straight through it.
You can imagine what I looked like at the end of this ride.

It was also the ride on which I became reminded that I do not particularly enjoy riding longer than 2 hours. To be frank, I get sick of it and I just want to go home. Today this was exacerbated by the fact that I was covered sand and grit, of course. I need to increase my biking mental endurance. I remember this is the case every spring... I am so excited to be out for the first part of the ride, and then I am miles from home, and just want it to end.

I have developed my pacing plan for Boston. The plan is to go BIG or go .... into the medical tent. One or the other. I am taking a risk with this one. My running has been going well, but not so much better than it was going when I PR'd the marathon last time, 1.5 years ago. For that marathon I trained similarly... similar mileage, similar pacing. And I ran an easier course to get that PR. SO, am I being a fool to run harder on a harder course this time around?
Perhaps.

But why not risk it... I have nothing to lose here. Boston is not my A race this season. I am not trying to qualify for it for the future; I am not particularly worried about seeming the fool if I fall apart; I am not terrified of falling apart in general. If I do, I do. I will still make it to the end unless I pass out or something.

So, that's my plan. Run the first 16 at constant, manageable, but not easy or slow pace, and then hang on for dear life. Sound good?

Meanwhile, this week should be taper. Only it doesn't feel like taper. I am certainly tapering the run; I think my total mileage this week before the marathon will be under 20 miles. But I am still biking, and I am still swimming. My bike yesterday took me over three hours, which is normal for IM training at this time of year for sure, but not normal in terms of tapering for a PR marathon. Oh well. Still, the priority, even though I want to run well at Boston, is Lake Placid, and I simply can't afford to stop biking right now in service to the marathon.

Two days ago my dogs got into the kids' crayons and yesterday they shat multi-colored poops. The colors were pastel, and I had this urge to shape the poop into Easter eggs, put the shaped poop into an Easter basket, photo it, and then have you guess what the eggs were made of.

But I didn't do it. Next time.

What's Going ON

2011-04-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

Hi. It's been awhile. And there's lots to write about. And not.

Let's see...

Boston is about a week and half away. I am number 7986. For those of you out on the course, this means I will have on a red bib and I will start at 10 a.m. I will likely be wearing a Tri-Bike shirt (red, white and black with a big bike on the front that frames my non-existent boobs). So cheer me on if you see me. Cheer really loudly. Thanks.

I'm excited to race. I'm still not exactly sure what my pacing plan is, but it is forming. Boston is tricky because the first 15 miles are a net downhill. And then you have those nasty hills that come at such an inconvenient time in the race... Still, I hope to get a personal best time.

Last weekend my family headed up to Maine to hang out with Ange and her family. We had an awesome time. On Saturday morning Ange and I got up early to go for a run. I had my last long run before Boston... a 17 miler, and Ange agreed to do it with me. The night before Ange had made sure I understood what I was getting into. The area in which she lives is mountainous. I knew this... yeah yeah yeah. I can do hills. I will be fine....

Oh MAMA! I'm not sure how much climbing we did, but it was A LOT. My pace was a good 30-40 seconds slower on average than it is when I run around here, and we have hills here, too! I'm not sure I would have completed the run if Ange hadn't been with me; I'm fairly certain I would have found a reason to cut it short. But we did it all.... I remember during the final 1/2 hour we began climbing a steep hill. I made the mistake of looking ahead... and could see how this hill went on and on and on... winding and winding. I wanted to cry. I was so trashed already! But we trudged up that hill... and like all things, eventually it did come to end!

After the run we headed to Sunday River to go skiing. Well, my family and Ange and her family skied. I stayed inside and read all day! (And oh... it was lovely...I'm reading Tom Perrotta lately--just finished The Abstinence Teacher, which was excellent.) But the kids definitely had fun.

After skiing we went out to eat with Ange's family and some of their friends, and let me just say, I am NOT in good drinking shape!After just a few drinks I wanted to go to bed... it was rather pathetic. Mark (Ange's Mark), however, WOULD NOT LET ME go to bed. So up I got... and rallied... sort of. :) I used to be such a partier! Oh sad sad sad...

This weekend I'm off to Maine again to hang out with my Bates friends. We will shop and eat out and chat. I can't wait. And of course I will squeeze in a few runs. Boston ... so close. Can't wait.

Okay Okay

2011-03-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

I am off my biological imperative kick. For now.

Let's start with Barbie:

The poor lamb has seen better days. I finally found her head:

When I begin to feel glum, like I am just running on the hamster wheel and going nowhere in particular except, eventually, off the wheel and into the ground, I can think of Barbie--mutilated by a 20 pound dog. Things could be so much worse than endless running.

And I do love running. Right?

The big news: on Saturday I RODE OUTSIDE. This was a big feat. It was 35 degrees, windy and cold on Saturday. The night before I had carefully cleaned and readied Mrs. Z for the outside, though, and I would be DAMNED if I didn't go through with my outside adventure. I dressed warmly, and you know? It was fine! I am so over it!

I remember with running it was this way. I thought, can I run in 10 degree weather? Will my lungs splinter into icicles in my chest if I try? And then I did run in 10 degree weather. And it was fine! Pleasant even! So although I will not be riding during snowstorms, I will now be riding through the winter when I can. If 35, cold and windy is just fine, then I'm sure 25, cold and windy can't be that much worse. There is a man who lives in my neighborhood who rides his bike to work year round. In the dead of winter I watch him ride off at 7 a.m., 10 degrees out and think, He is NUTS. But you know? I think maybe he is onto something.

Yesterday I had my final very long run before Boston. It trashed me more than other runs have. I think it could be the close proximity of the brick the day before, or maybe that I hadn't gotten enough sleep the previous nights leading up to it. I was able to run part of it with a few of my friends, and that DEFINITELY made it easier. But I was tired from the start. It was a tough one mentally to get through.

I need a few good new songs for my IPod. Let me know if you have suggestions.

A Reponse

2011-03-26T06:16:00.000-07:00

This was sent to me anonymously in response to my last post. I think it's excellent, so I decided to post it. I know most of you aren't particularly interested in these little philosophical debates...but I like them, and hey, it's my blog! haha!

"They say we only use ten percent of our brains. I think we only use ten percent of our hearts."
-- Owen Wilson, Wedding Crashers

I'll take your E. M. Forster and raise you one...

I'm no evolutionary biologist, but I think you have reversed the biological priorities in your post. An individual's primary purpose is to perpetuate the species. Early on, this takes the form of advancing one's own reproductive potential. So eventually you have kids. Then, having fulfilled your reproductive purpose you live out the rest of your life in service to those who still have to fulfill their reproductive potential. That is how your priority of perpetuating the species stays consistent, though your role may change. Maybe over time, then, we evolve from selfish individuals to those who are more altruistic, at least in the reproductive sense.

Except that it doesn't quite work that way. For starters, even after you have kids, you still have reproductive potential. So what do you do? Do you live in service to your kids and their potential, or do you continue your quest to preserve your own? And even if your reproductive ability suddenly disappeared, we're still human and we've gotten attached to the initial, selfish quest and it's hard to let go of it and just be in service to others.

The reality is, I think, that we try to do both. We try to live for our kids and ourselves at the same time. Because we can do both, we want to do both, and because no one is forcing us to make an absolute choice.

So, what do the game-theoretic, evolutionary biologists have to say to this? Something about maximizing net societal reproductive capacity? I don't know and, while I love to think about that shit, to a certain extent I don't really care. Because at that point it starts to feel like I'm forcing messy reality to fit a once-elegant model and that seems to have reversed priorities as well. It also makes me feel like inevitably, as we head down the intellectual and logical paths, we have to reduce love to a crude biological imperative toward preserving the species. I only love someone so that I can fuck them. I only love my kids so that, one day, they too may fuck.

You could argue that I basically nailed it right there. That it's all about the fuck. But there's something more to fucking that just having offspring and there's something to love that's more that just self- and social preservation. It feels good and it feels right and it's the same thing that, as I mentioned above, drives one to act in their own self interest even after their own reproductive viability has passed.

There's a great phase in a new relationship in which all you do is eat, sleep and fuck--often sacrificing the former two for the latter one. But over time things change and we aim for more in life than simply to eat, sleep and fuck. We decide it was time to not just fuck, but reproduce.

Why do we do that? Were we just acting according to some genetic programming? I don't buy it. I had kids because somewhere deep down I was convinced it was right. I wouldn't have had kids unless I felt that way. That same sense is causing you to examine your motivations and question the evolutionary imperative. You, in a very honest way, are refusing to simply adopt morals and ethics that our culture hangs over us and that many would accept without questioning. You won't accept it until and unless you feel it is right. How evolutionarily-correct is that? It must be some subtle code that would allow us to question its primary function.

I don't think you had kids just so that they might reproduce. I think it is way more likely you had them so they might eat, sleep and fuck. And love it.

Who Cares?

2011-03-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

I wish this sentiment didn't strike me so frequently. I am jaded; I'm fairly certain I have been jaded since birth.

I seldom believe that a person's motivations stem from anything but self need. Even Mother Theresa needed something. I'm not sure what... but her motivation to be the saint she was stemmed from some place of emptiness... of a self that needed to be recognized by God, by others... by something. Ultimately, I don't believe in altruism. It is a human contrivance used to try to mask our selfishness.

See. I'm bad.

I like to watch my dogs because they are so unabashed about their selfishness. Ernie and Hazel love each other, I think--or they love each other in the dog version of that--but they will nevertheless steal eachother's food, or hog the best place in their shared crate, or jump all over me in jealously and desperation when I pay any attention to the other. Kids are somewhat like this, as well. They wear their selfishness in the open, at least until they ripen to the point of understanding they must hide their selfish desires in favor of appearing "human."

Except it's human to watch out first for self. It's human to be selfish. If it weren't human to be selfish, our species would have died out a long time ago. Species simply do not last the cold indifference of evolution if they are altruistic. It just doesn't work. So what is actually human is our playing at altruism... at care.

This is not to say that humans don't experience care. They do. It's just that care does not stop most of us from moving onward with our lives in the face of world tragedy, for example. I felt horror watching videos of the Tsunami wreckage in Japan. And then I went to Starbucks and got myself a latte and thought about who knows what: my upcoming race, what I needed at the grocery store, whether I had enough time to walk the dogs before I got the kids off the bus.. And I don't think this makes me a bad person. I think it makes me a human person.

Naked I came into this world, naked I shall go out of it. And a very good thing too, for it reminds me that I am naked under my shirt, whatever its colour.
(That's E.M. Forster. He's a smart dude.)

etc.

Why the hell am I writing about this? It is certainly not uplifting. It is jaded. And I know many of you are thinking I have it all wrong. That I need to, perhaps, study Jesus. That humans are not animals and were designed separately... uniquely...

I'm not really having an existential crisis. I'm not.
Really I'm just trying to make myself feel okay about my life and my choices. So it's all about me. Of course. ;)
_________________

Because this post is such a boring downer and only written so I can blab and get my jaded self some air time... I will end it with some down-to-earth regular tri-blog fare.

I had a smokin' run today. And then I got on the bike to do these really hard intervals and I nearly keeled over and died trying to do them. And if I did die? You would feel this pang! And then you would go get a latte... (oops, sorry. still being jaded.)
I'm trying to figure out my game plan for Boston. The only plan I have is to P.R. I just don't don't know how I'm going to do that yet.
I'm going to ride outside on Saturday morning even if it's 20 below zero. I'm done with the trainer. DONE! But I have watched several seasons of Desperate Housewives. Excellent show, I must say. Many a crisis to put my own crises in perspective.

Have a great weekend!

Lots O' Racing Weekend:Day 3 and 4

2011-03-22T07:07:00.000-07:00

I must admit I did not feel much like swimming when Saturday morning rolled around. I had worked quite hard the day previous, even if my heart wasn't originally in the effort. I was scheduled to swim the 500 free and the 50 back on Saturday, only two morning events this time because I wanted to save myself for my half marathon effort on Sunday. Of course, morning or not, the 500 free is not an event to take lightly in terms of energy suckage. It is a killer.

I will be straight. Kurt did not want me swim racing at all this weekend. He wanted me to rest and focus solely on the half. He nearly strangled me (except you can't strangle over email, luckily for moi) when I mentioned I may be cornered into doing a few relays. When I told him how hard it was to say no to Zach and Son (MESC meet organizers) he resorted to begging--something like please please please do not do any more events! The begging was too much. I knew I had to say no (NE record up for grabs or not, right, Son?) :) and I also knew I should scratch the 500.

And I did scratch it. I came to Blodgett on Saturday morning just to race the little ol' 50 back. I warmed up well (as opposed to the previous day) and practiced a few starts. I was in the 9th heat of 14--the middle--of course. The worst part of the back is jumping in the water to start. The water is so damn icy it takes your breath away, and then you just prolong the agony by waiting to start as you hang onto that little bar under the blocks.

My start was once again a rather pathetic back flop. I really really do suck at them, but I got over it and into the groove and had a fast tight turn at the 25. I kicked hard off the wall and then continued to kick like a mother the whole second length, touching the pad in 35.8. When I was 14 I came in second in the 50 back at our Junior High Championship in a 33 something. So I am a little off that... but 35.8! Not so bad for 26 years later. And I had lopped two seconds off my seed time, which is pretty sweet since the last time I did the 50 back I had on one of those spiffy speedsuits. I ended up placing 7th out of 11 in AG. (not even the middle, God dammit) but I am still happy with the effort, and I got to collect my pretty purple ribbons for two 7th places in the 100 and 50 back.

Alina won the 50 back in AG in a 31 flat. She also won the 50 free in 25.2 and was 2nd in the 100 IM in 1:07.4. She is amazing. (But she didn't get any purple ribbons... only blue. So there.)

----------------------------------------- SUNDAY--------------------------------------------

I was stressed to the freaking max for this race.
I had a plan, but when I really thought about this plan I felt seriously ill. The plan was to take it out in 6:55 pace on the Garmin, knowing that the Garmin GPS is always slightly off (measuring miles slightly short) and so a 6:55 pace would likely truly be a 7:00 pace at race's end.
This pace was not an unreasonable target given how I have been running in training lately. However, it is faster than my previous 10K PR (not that that my 10K PR is anything to brag about), but still, I was going to take it out in a pace faster than I had ever averaged in a 10K? Was I high?

So I simply tried no to think. I would just execute. I would not let myself down, and I would prove to Kurt that I can race and not let me head get in the way. I would.

(God, I hoped I would.)

One of the reasons I picked this half is because I didn't know anyone doing it. Less pressure when you don't know anyone there and you can just fart and blow snot rockets as you race without fear someone will tell on you. Turns out I knew a ton of people at the race, though. One of my athletes, Jim, was there (okay, I knew he was racing... :) Courtney and Pat were there (Pat got second even after getting lost on the course), my GNRC friends Zac, Tom and John were there (Zac was fourth. I know all the fast people, huh?) and my two blogger friends Ana Maria and Kristina were there, too. (Ana Maria was 4th female and Kristina had a BIG PR, going well under 1:40.)

Anyway. I clearly could not rest easy if I chose to fart, piss, or blow snot during the race. I did anyway, but the fact that I knew people at the race did cause me pause.

Onward. This post is getting to be way too long, so I will cut to the chase. I took it out maybe a little too hard. I then held my own for quite a long time, even though I could not for the life of me find a big body to sit behind so I could avoid the wind off the water. I doubted myself at mile 5 when we hit a big hill, but then I pulled it together on the big downhill that followed. I felt good in the middle--or as good as can be expected given I was racing a 1/2--and didn't lose it again until mile 11 when a rather long, large hill forced me to slow my pace and wonder if I had enough gas in the tank to finish. I pulled it together again, though, and finished well, though I admit there may have been a little pissing my pants involved in the last tenth or so.
Here are my splits:
6:44
6:51
6:55
7:01
7:01 (4/5 had that damn hill)
6:57
6:49
6:49
6:57
7:00
7:06 (started to lose it b/c of the hills)
7:15 (started to wonder if I would finish or drop dead if this hill didn't end)
6:55 (pulled it together through here)
5:44 ( for last little bit, downhill)

Finished in 1:30:59. I would write 1:31 flat, but I killed myself to get to the finish when I saw I was close to breaking 1:31, so I am giving myself full credit for that one second. I also PR'd the 10K (in 42:55) and the 10 mile (in 1:09.09). So yes, this was a super big PR race for me! I ended up 8th overall and 3rd in my AG. The field was big... with about 850 racing, I think, so I am mighty proud, thanks.

Thanks to Kurt. Like mucho thanks. like mucho mucho mucho thanks.

Lots O' Racing Weekend:Day 1 and 2

2011-03-21T06:17:00.000-07:00

I had a big weekend in terms of racing.

It started with the race to clean the house on Thursday. Alina came down from Maine to swim in the NE Masters Championship at Harvard, and before her arrival, the house was pretty grim. The most grim were the bathrooms. They were like close-to-vomit upon entry disgusting. After going through several bottles of Lysol and several sponges, I moved onto the kids' rooms, which basically entailed throwing every clothing item on the floor into the basement laundry and changing sheets-- which aside from Noah's hadn't been changed in... a very long time. (Best not to try to figure out how long I always say...) I admit I may have used a little disinfectant in the kids' rooms, too. I then lit smelly candles all over the house to try to get rid of the super potent dog smell. The effect was quite satisfying. The house appeared to be somewhat tidy and clean. I struggled to keep it clean after the kids arrived home from school and before Alina showed up (kinda like rowing upstream), but I prevailed!
Race #1 = a win for Mary.

The next race(s) began the following morning at Blodgett Pool at Harvard for the NEMSCY Championship. I admit, I haven't been focused on my swimming of late, and I wasn't focused for this meet either. My lack of swimming verve was bad enough so that I actually contemplated not warming up for my events because I simply didn't feel like getting wet. Yep. Not a good sign.

I did warm up in the end. I then went onto swim five events: the 100 free, the 50 fly, 200IM,, the 100 back and the 50 free in a relay. Those of you who once competed in swimming (or still do) will nod, knowing I was swimming super fun events... none of which (save possibly the 200IM) had the potential to kill me.

The 100 free was first. I may or may not have warmed up quite enough to swim decently. I was seeded in the 9th heat of about 18, so as per usual, smack in the middle. The first length felt smooth and easy (as it always does) but by the third length I was feeling that whole body cement-like, hypoxic pain of swim sprinting and I was wondering why the hell I insisted in swimming in these meets. My splits were still pretty even, though, and my time (1:07.7) is only a second or two off what I did when I was a kid, so I will take it. I finished 12th out of 19th in my AG. Humbling... but hey, I was with SWIMMERS at a championship meet! Alina placed first in 57 seconds. The girl is fast.

Next up was the 50 fly. This was my best showing of the meet in terms of placing. It felt smooth and easy until the last few strokes of the 2nd length. Gotta love the 50. I finished in 33.9, about normal for me, and was 10th out of 22 in my AG. Again, I'll take it. Alina was first again, in 28 seconds.

The 200 IM was al slightly disasterous. I am best at fly and back. Breaststroke is my weakest stroke with free following closely behind. Hence I always am winning my heat at the 100, and then dead last by the end of the race. It's serouisly demoralizing. They need to have a 100 fly/back event. That would ROCK. Anyway, I took it out in 1:16, and then finished in 2:52. So you do the math and please don't cringe too much. I finished 9th out of 14 in my AG. Same old.

By the 100 back I was freaking tired. Meets are exhausting. Still, back is my best stroke, so I had high hopes. I felt surprisingly good, and finished in 1:17, despite a totally pathetic back flop at the start. Four seconds off high school... but still. NOT so bad. I was 7th out of 12 in my AG, again, in the bottom middle. Hey, at least I'm consistent! Alina... was 1st AG in 1:07. She's consistent too.

I was with some awesome Maine girls (I swim for Maine) in the 200 free relay. No pressure, just fun. The big thing is not to jump the gun and DQ the relay. I had a pretty good start (I swam 2nd) and finished the 50 in 30.3. I have yet to break 30. Annoying. Alina's 200 free relay broke the NE record. She swam her 50 in 25.2. She is a sprinting swim goddess.

So that was my day! Are you still with me?

After the meet we had a fabulous dinner at the Border Cafe with Mike and John, two of our MESC (Maine) swimmer friends. Margaritas!!! Yum.

Stayed tuned for Part II of race weekend. It gets better. (at least for me!)

Groundhog Day and Pain

2011-03-16T19:06:00.000-07:00

Wake.

wakethekidswalkthedogsfeedthekidsfeedthedogspackthelunchescleanupbreakfastforgetmycoffeeinthemicrowavecleanupshitscoldhazelforstealinglara'stoastgeternieoffthetable!thebuswillbehereinoneminutewhereismycoffee?wellwhydidn'tyoueatwhenyouhadthechance?thebusiscoming!youforgotyourbackpackforchrist'ssakemomdon'tswearthatwasnotswearingyouwantmetoswear?getthehellouttherebeforeireallystarttoswear!ohmygodmomsaidhell!

etc.

I am having a groundhog day sort of week. I know that movie is a comedy, but I still think it was quite poignant. And I adore Bill Murray. Meatballs. Lost in Translation.

My week has also been punctuated by vivid dreams. In my dreams I'm late for class or I can't find something or I can't open my locker at school and the halls are fast becoming silent. In one dream I couldn't get to Ernie before he was hit by a car.

My dreams might be because I'm racing this weekend. Or they might be simply because I am fucked up. One or the other.

I have a meet on Friday and Saturday at Harvard. It's the Short Course Yards Masters Championship-- a big meet. I am not stressed about the meet, though. Alina is coming down. I'm more focused on that. I will swim a few events. It will be fun. It will mean nothing.

I'm stressed, however, about my 1/2 marathon on Sunday.

I usually get anxious about big big races--like say, IM, or even a 1/2 IM. But this is just a stupid road race. It is just a benchmark.. a stop along the way... a measure. The problem is that I have been running very well lately.

How is that a problem, you ask?
Well... it's problematic in that it makes me wonder, and hope, and maybe even fantasize about what I might be able to do. And the truth is that hope--hope that crosses over into fantasy especially--is dangerous. It can lead to disappointment. And embarrassment; embarrassment that I could imagine more from this 40 year-old-body than it will hand over.
Disappointment and embarrassment can be painful.
And protecting myself from pain is. very. important.

I sound like some scarred woman... burned over and over by her lofty aspirations that didn't pan out. But I'm not a scarred woman. Racing has given me an endless sense of accomplishment. I generally don't let myself down, and I long gave up the notion that anyone really gives a crap how I do other than me. (Which is not to say people aren't supportive... just that my doing well or not rocks no one's world except my own.) So why the fear of psychic pain?

I have my private theories, and I will allow you to draw your own conclusions. But one thing I will say: there is a tension that exists between my groundhog life and the thrill that comes with risking failure. And the reason I am passionate about racing is because if that tension did not exist I'm fairly certain--neither would I.

Mish Mash

2011-03-11T06:42:00.000-08:00

I have been writing infrequently for the last few months. As a result I have a backlog of posts I want to write all swirling about in my head. The problem is that when I sit down to write I can't remember what I felt so keenly I must write about. It is frustrating. It makes me feel like I have early onset Alzheimer's.

Which reminds me, I am reading Still Alice by Lisa Genova. Actually, more accurately, I am listening to it in my car on CD.
This is what is weird for me. Lisa and I went to Bates College together. We shared the same circle of friends. We weren't especially close, but we were friends enough to always be at the same small party or at the same table in Commons, (where we ate meals) or in the same section of the library. (Please note she was at the library many more hours than I was, of course, and also at the library at times I did not frequent it, like the morning.) Lisa was our valedictorian. This was especially amazing because the girl partied. She definitely partied. She was this combination of incredible discipline and also social savvy and hip. I digress. Anyway, the weird part is hearing HER voice on the CD, and losing myself in the story she wrote as she reads it. Every once in awhile I remember it's her.. and think, Weird. That's Lisa!

Here is a list of updates in Mary-ville:

I actually did every yard of swimming I was scheduled to do this week. This hasn't happened for many moons, so I am pleased.
I had an awesome run yesterday. It was one of those runs during which I thought, Wait, WHY do I do triathlon? I love just running!
On Sunday I made it through a three hour trainer ride. I have friends who are on the trainer routinely for three or more hours at a time, but I find it painfully hard to do that. I have a hard time focusing on TV while I work out, but then... just sitting in the same place for three hours is incredibly boring without the TV. So I will watch TV during the easy parts of the ride, and then lose track of what I am watching when the hard parts kick in. I then have no clue what is happening when the easy parts of the ride return. I just want to get outside. Soon. It will be soon.
On a totally non-training front, my son (age 7.5) was just diagnosed officially with ADHD. I am not shocked or upset about it, but I also don't exactly know what to DO about it. If you have a child with ADHD, or you have experience with it in any way I would love your input. Medication for someone so young? Diet? Resources? How should I deal with getting the services he needs in school? How can I help him control his emotional responses (explosive)? How can I help him make and keep friends? He is so sharp, cute, lovable, and funny. And I can see how his ADHD manifests -- it is a part of his funny, lovable, sharp nature! I totally accept the diagnosis. I just want to help him. I don't know how to help him.
I'm convinced that hot, power yoga will be the next "essential" of triathlon training. It strengthens without worry of injury (unlike Cross Fit or even TRX), it balances, it stretches, it makes one more aware of her body and the way it moves and works, and it is peaceful , self-affirming, and rejuvenating. Most importantly, it helps to undo the inflexibility and the tightness that swim/bike/run inflicts. I know that more and more runners and triathletes are doing yoga. I also know there has been NO research that has shown that yoga helps triathlon or run performance. But I'm convinced it does help, and I think it is the next coming wave for us. I believe it has prevented me from becoming so tight in my calves/ankles and feet that I snap, even as my run and bike mileage have increased each week.
Jesse just wrote a great post on what he describes as the "stress budget." I am your typical AG triathlete, spending outside of my budget when I have no business doing so. I've gotten better at this, but it remains a problem. It is also a problem for nearly EVERY athlete I coach. It takes a long time to drill into a driven AG triathlete that recovery is equally important to success as hard training. I frequently hear, "but I don't want to fall behind!" when a recovery week is assigned. I get this. I feel the same way about my own training. But after some hard lessons, I do understand the gold that recovery is, and so I take it. I am hoping next season will be all the better for it.

A Post in Which I Blab and Get Gross

2011-03-05T06:54:00.000-08:00

I have had a slew of totally crappy crappy workouts now. I have some sort of a sleeping/weak/tummy/bowel sickness. What is really truly annoying is that I actually feel okay. I'm am just like 1 degree off, and it is fucking up my week, big time.

Last night I went to bed at 10 p.m. This morning the alarm went off at 7 a.m. I turned it off, and then it was 8:30 a.m.like THAT. And I was still tired when I got up! That is like 10.5 hours of sleep! WTF! Meanwhile, my kids went downstairs and made pancakes while I slept. It's not unusual for them to do so, but the mess they make when they cook without me there never ceases to amaze me.

At any rate, I am procrastinating getting on the bike b/c I am having just a little trouble digesting breakfast, and also, no amount of coffee is making me feel like I have the umph to get the workout done. (It's a long one.) But yet I really don't feel bad. It is super annoying. It needs to go away.

I'm gearing up for a 1/2 marathon in a few weeks. I feel it is really possible I could PR. But then when I think about PRing I stop myself, afraid that I will be disappointed if I don't. That is stupid and not the way a "winner" thinks. I know this, yet my thinking is automatic. I have not even been thinking about biking and swimming. I have been doing them (though I admit to being somewhat slack about swimming lately) but they just aren't on my mind. Do you ever feel like if you are not thinking (read obsessing) about something then it will slip through your fingers? And I wonder why I am in therapy. That sentence just sounds so WRONG. I clearly use anxiety and obsession to (ironically) ease the fear that I will fail.

Blah. Lately I am super duper in tune with my psychological ailments. I mean, everyone is psychologically ailing, really. I know this. We all have our shit. But I am just perseverating about MY shit lately. Sometimes doesn't it seem totally impossible to get over, beyond, at peace, WHATEVER with your shit? Especially if your shit gets in the way of important stuff. ek. I know I am being vague. It's like that trap of wanting to talk about something, deciding to do it in a public sphere, and then just being half-assed and circling around but never landing because you can't REALLY say what is on your mind.

I am truly impressed if you are still with me at this point.

In other news. I really like my coach. He is a good, smart egg.

Here are a few tidbits from the Wilson household this fine, Saturday morning.

1. Andy is away with two good friends who are both cops. They are in northern Maine drinking beer and shooting guns and staying in a log cabin without heat. hmmm....

2. Noah, my 7 year old, is walking around naked because he wet his bed last night, stripped himself of his wet PJs, and now feels it's necessary to walk around in the buff with just a fleece blanket wrapped around him.

3. Jordan put orange juice in a glass last night, stuck a knife in it, and froze it. Now she is walking around with a huge orange juice popsicle with a gigantic,rather sharp knife lodged in it. Please do not call DSS on me.

4. Jordan just said, Ummm, mom? Don't you have to get on the bike? Love it when my kids call me on my procrastination.

4. This is the best one of all.
Hazel just took a crap in the house. It was a crap that wasn't really a crap. It was a sock, encrusted with crap. (She must have eaten the sock in the last 36 hours). This sock encrusted crap was attached to another crap by way of a long hair (probably one of mine). Ernie picked up the sock crap and began running around with it, the hair crap flowing behind him as he ran. Hazel chased him and they began to play tug with the crap (remember it was solid because it was really a sock encrusted crap), until I realized what it was they were playing tug with. After a horrified scream, I tried to get the crap out of Ernie's mouth (holding a paper towel in my hand to do it). Hazel grabbed the paper towel as my hand locked on the shit.

And that is my morning. This is my life.

Suffering

2011-03-03T16:45:00.000-08:00

No, I am not going to write about suffering. That would be a good blog topic, of course. Suffering versus enduring versus welcoming pain.

But that is too heady for me right now. I am without content recently (read the last few months). I am running on a wheel.

Until recently my running (even if on a wheel) was faster than normal running on a wheel. But the last two days I had SHIT runs. Like they were shitty experiences and also shitty (literally) experiences. I am fighting some sort of a something. I puked up a gel at mile 7 of a run today. And then I had to run home, because I was like... you know, seven miles from home. So I guess that's suffering... and hence this is about suffering.

Because I am empty of anything riveting to tell you (I have riveting things on my mind but I'm sorry, I don't feel like telling you, unfortunately), I will conform to the blogging trend of using the ABC's to reveal stupid facts about me that you may (or more likely may not) find particularly illuminating. Don't get me wrong... I love these sorts of things ... (ABCs to get to know you etc.)

Here goes:
Age: 40. ew.
Bed size: King. I have been married over 10 years. Duh.
Chore you dislike: I dislike all chores, especially putting away laundry and cleaning man/boy piss off toilet seats.
Dogs: Oh but of course! Two destructive puppies, Ernie (a Boston Terrier) and Hazel (a yellow lab). I was inspired to get Ernie after I became obsessed with Jesse's Boston, Cooper.
Essential start to your day: coffee. then more coffee.
Favorite color: green
Gold or silver: silver
Height: 5'2" and 1/4 inch
Instruments you play: piano, trumpet, French Horn. None of them well, and none of them since college
Job title: mother, coach. I still think of myself mostly as a middle school history and English teacher.
Kids: 3. ages 9,7 and 5, girl, boy, girl
Live: Westwood, MA aka totally lacking in any kind of diversity Boston suburb.
Mom's name: Mary Jean
Nickname: Mar. But I hate that nickname so please refrain from calling me that.
Overnight hospital stay: Childbirth. three different (and each very special) c-sections.
Pet peeves: When people say, "you're so good" in reference to my working out. I am good. But not for that reason.
Quote from a movie: Stacy: When a guy has an orgasm, how much comes out? Linda: Oh, about a quart or so. (Fast Times). I know there are better ones out there, but that shot into my head.
Righty or lefty: Righty
Siblings: one older sister (Laura), one younger sister (Christina), and two younger brothers (Jordan and AJ)
Time you wake up: it depends on whether I am working out in the a.m. or not. Either 5:15 a.m. or 7:00 a.m.
Underwear: Hazel likes to eat it, so it must smell really great.
Vegetables you don't like: eggplant, raw tomatoes.
What makes you run late: that would take too long to list....
Xrays you had: teeth, feet, ankles, boobs, uterus, knees
Yummy food you make: I make a mean cake from a mix.
Zoo animal favorites: Polar Bears. Lions. I don't know. Unlike Kim, I like all of them, even their smelliness.

Hope you learned something important about me that will help you discern the content of my character; the depth of my soul.
or something like that.

I'm backkkkkkkkk....................

2011-02-27T07:45:00.000-08:00

I had quite a week+ with my family in sunny Orlando. We visited the Animal Kingdom on Sunday, Typhoon Lagoon Water Park on Monday, Universal Studios on Tuesday, Epcot on Wednesday, the Magic Kingdom on Thursday, and Typhoon Lagoon again on Friday. My favorite parks were Epcot and Typhoon Lagoon. They were less crowded and at the Lagoon I was able to lie in the sun for a bit and read. Reading while sitting the sun...now that is MY idea of the ideal vacation activity.

Lara (our youngest) was sick was a really super bad stomach virus on our first Saturday, Sunday, and Monday--which was really and truly a bummer. On Monday she was so sick that she opted to stay at the condo with my mom (my parents were with us). My mom is basically a goddess for staying home with her. (Thanks Mom!) My mom also bought her little treats like a stuffed Yedi from Animal Kingdom and a stuffed Crookshanks from Harry Potter World to make her feel better. (She was pretty upset when she puked on the Yedi, though...) At any rate, both my mom and Lara were troopers throughout the whole thing. Lara kept a fairly good attitude even after barfing on the plane, in the car, at Denny's, at the Animal Kingdom, and numerous times into her blankie as she sat comatose on the coach in the condo. She willingly downed the Pedialyte, too, which is saying something b/c that stuff in nasty.

I know Pedialyte is nasty b/c I used it as fueling for a run later in the week. It's like grape KoolAid--only somehow worse. Blek. But I had nothing, and I needed SOMETHING for my longish run. The ingredients on the Pedialyte container looked very similar to the ones on the PowerBar Endurance container. So there you go. Speaking of running, my runs in Orlando were awesssssommmmeeeeee. This is for three reasons: one, it is flat there. That was dreamy. Two, it is warm there. I ran in a tank and shorts every day. That was bliss. And three, I was unable to bike or swim in Orlando, so it was ALL about the run. It made me realize how much I love to run every single day... and how much MORE I love running than the other two disciplines. But I also know that my body doesn't do exceedingly well when I keep running every day indefinitely. It starts to rebel by way of injury. And I like racing triathlon better than road racing. The landscape of central Florida is pretty ugly, It think, but it sure is great to run there at this time of year. As I write it is snowing here. I have a run planned for later today. Can't wait to deal with the slush. Sigh.

This is Lara being a trooper on our first night there, at the Magic Kingdom. She felt like ass.

We had perfect weather the whole trip. How lucky is that? Somewhat unlucky were the unbelievable crowds. I think going in January or May might make the trip more enjoyable in terms of lines and crowds. The worst crowds were at the Magic Kingdom on Saturday night and at Harry Potter World in Universal.
Check out the crowds in this snapshot as we entered Harry Potter World:

We waited 90 minutes to get on the Harry Potter Hogwarts ride. It was a great ride... I admit. But it wasn't worth 90 minutes! Andy captured our sentiments with a video. This was shot 70 minutes into our 90 minute wait.

Looks fun, huh?
We DID have fun though... on rides like One Fish Two Fish:

And the roller coasters were pretty cool at Universal. Jordan is a roller coaster junkie and she forced me to go on the Dragon roller coaster in Harry Potter World. That was a doozy. I was messed up for the rest of the day. She wasn't, of course, and went on the Hulk, by herself I will add, because she was so determined to ride every scary coaster she could find.

Luckily for us, Lara felt much better by Tuesday. She was psyched for Universal:

I liked Epcot best, except for the simulation rides, which made me want to barf. Here are my parents with Jordan and Noah:

And here are the kids in front of a Lady and the Tramp topiary. It would be cool to be a gardener at Disney. (Okay, I might be the only one to think that...)

By the end of the day at Epcot we were spent, and had dinner in Mexico. At this point we were all a little punchy:

The Magic Kingdom is not nearly as great as I remembered it (as a kid), but my kids did love it. The best ride is Space Mountain, by far. Here we entering the park.

The lines were a PITA, though, and by the end of the day my kids were begging to go back to the condo. Here is Noah in full I want to go home rebellion:

Typhoon Lagoon was awesome, as I previously mentioned. After this picture was shot Andy took the kids to the slides and I took a reading break on a beach chair.

This is Lara on one of the kiddie slides. She was psyched:

This is the wave pool at Typhoon which we all thought was pretty darn cool:

The pool at our condo was also pretty sweet.
Check out that slide!

So there you have it. Our Disney vacation in pictures and videos.

And now back to our previously scheduled program.

The More I Know the Less I Know and Other Thoughts

2011-02-15T08:18:00.000-08:00

The heat has stopped working in this house.
A tech from the oil company is on his way, but in the mean time I can barely focus I am so cold. I'm sure there is simply a reset button on the furnace or something, and I am too dense to know where to find it.

Despite that my fingers are icy, I will try to write anyway. I should be getting on the bike, but I fear stripping to my shorts and top when it is so frigid in this house, and also I fear appearing half naked at the door and dripping with sweat when the tech person shows up. I have never come in contact with a female heating technician. Why is that?

In real time:
He arrived. The furnace has not been cleaned since 2007 and the boiler is all "clogged up". Oops.
I think it is in my wifely duties to schedule those cleanings? Oh dear...

Onward. I have been mired in "think" land for the last few weeks. I lack a sense of humor and I am generally a drudge to be around when I get especially thinky. I am repeatedly told by those close to me that I over-think anyway.
Recently even I see it. Sigh.
Here is what I have bee thinking about:

Evolution and whether free will is a myth
How our childhoods shape us in so many ways--expected and unexpected. I believe this, and yet I am also so taken with the idea that we are genetically predisposed to behave in certain ways (see bullet one)--that our being shaped is also a myth and we are simply a product of our genes.
How I take intellectual short-cuts--always. How I can't help but take short-cuts, and I wonder if this is an attentional problem? For example, I rarely finish non-fiction texts. I begin something, became enamored by it, I gather the central premise of the book, and then I tire of it. I do not force myself to read and understand beyond the big picture, and so I never really understand things in depth. This makes me an excellent generalist, but not much of an expert on anything.
How my running has been getting better, and why is that? What am I doing differently now? There are two things, I think: I am running more frequently (although my runs are usually not longer than 45 minutes) and also I have been adding bursts to every run. The bursts are only about 20 seconds each, and only a few in each run. Could they really be making such a difference? Is this purely a muscle memory thing? By running more frequently and by adding frequent bursts of speed my body rarely forgets what it is to run quickly ? Why does that translate into faster speed overall, though? Or is it simply that I have shed a couple pounds? (honestly, not more than 2.)
I have an FTP test scheduled for Wednesday, and I am uneasy about it. I have been hitting the required watts for the intervals I have been assigned. They are not easy, but not so hard. I can manage. But I fear the 20 minute all out test. What if I can't muster the umph to push as hard as I can? What if I don't push as hard as last time and my watts are lower and it appears I am going backward?

On Friday we leave for Orlando.
We've never taken the family to Disney. I am excited.
If you have been with children between the ages of 5 and 9, and you have advice for me, I'm game.

I am quite sure I will snap out of think-ville and become vivacious and full of vim and humor soon. At least I hope so. Of course, to my credit, it is hard to be full of vim and humor when it is 52 degrees in your house and dropping.

Happy Training!

Mean People Suck

2011-02-10T10:43:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a run in which a woman in a big ass SUV almost took me out. I was running across an intersection of a major road and a small neighborhood street. She came crashing down the neighborhood street--like out of nowhere--and as she approached (going FAST) her head was turned to look for oncoming cars so she could dart out onto the main street if at all possible. No need to stop at a stop sign if there are no cars, coming, right?
She saw me at the last second and skidded to stop. I was like a deer in headlights.. I froze...I think I may have hopped forward. I don't know. I knew she was going to hit me.

She didn't.
Instead she gave me the dirtiest look imaginable. My heart was racing. I had just escaped being flattened by an SUV.
and then I was mad.
I flipped her off and shouted Fuck You! at the top of my lungs.

That is all this woman needed. She rolled down her window and started screaming at me.
It's not worth repeating what she said. I'm not sure it was even very intelligible. Lots of swearing.

I really don't think this type of thing happens as much in other parts of the country. Am I wrong? Boston suburbanites can be so freaking MEAN and aggressive when they drive. It's like everyone here is one step away from losing their minds because they are so stressed out. It's the family men and women in their super large and fancy-schmancy family cars who are the worst. More often than not a beater of a car or a rusty pick-up will slow and wave me on when they see me running. It seems the nice and bigger the car is, the more likely it is that an asshole is driving it.

All I know is that it makes me long to move out of here. People in Maine, where I am from, can be mean, of course. But it is so rare that this type of thing happens there.... or at least it has rarely (actually never) happened to me when running there. Here I have had people cut me off, run me off the road, people come close to hitting me with their cars who then lash out at me as if it was my fault they nearly took me out. I've even had a man drive up to me, seemingly to ask for directions, who rolled down his window and asked if I would get in his car and suck him off. And yes, he was in a nice, big SUV type car--and was a professional/father type looking man.

I've lived in Boston for nearly all of my adult life. But I will never consider myself a Bostonian. And today I just want to go home.
____________________________
In workout news:
My running is going quite well right now. I feel stronger and faster than I have in a really, really long time. This is not to say I am running fast... I am just running faster. My running was in the shitter for so long; it feels good to be running somewhat normally again.

My swim and bike workouts are getting done, although without much feeling or analysis on my part. I look at what is assigned and I do it. My bike assignments are straight forward and uncomplicated, and I like this. Usually there is a small stretch of time in which I must work very hard (just at or below FTP). I like these little stretches. They make me work, but they don't leave me totally shattered because they never add up to more than like a 1/2 hour of total hard work time. I'm sure this will change eventually, but for now it is really nice.

When doing a long interval just below FTP the other day, I was listening to a cover by Mary Blige of U2's song "One." I love the song anyway, but this cover of it I find just chillingly awesome. I blasted it as I rode hard, and I sang at the top of my lungs closing my eyes and using my thumb as a microphone. Even my dogs got into it:--barking and crooning with me. The way the song builds is just incredible... orgasmic, even.

That was a high point of my workout week-- no doubt.

And now I'm off to walk my dogs in the freezing cold and icy woods.
Miles to go before I sleep.
Just get me through winter, God. Just get me through.