Five years ago I promised myself I would never, ever ride on the Bee Line Highway ever again. Especially not in a race. I really should've kept that promise.
My return to IMAZ didn't go so well. I arrived without incident with my mom and had a pretty restful few days pre-race. I did a few short workouts, rode the run course with Pat Wheeler in prep for his perfectly executed race and tried to get plenty of sleep and spend plenty of time with my feet up. Saturday morning was the carb load breakfast at The Good Egg which also happens to be one of the few restaurants in the country I've been to where I can only eat two of their pancakes. Way better than Denny's or IHOP. I ate with Pat and Courtney and then Kim Schwabenbauer who ended her rookie pro season on a major high note.
After that I packed up my things pretty quickly to get the bike drop off over with. I've never waited in line for this, but this time there was a huge one that wound all through the park. For some reason they decided to take pictures of every single bike before it got brought into transition. I'm amazed that they keep finding new ways to overcomplicate these processes. But eventually the stuff was dropped off and I was basically done for the day. Nothing left but to drink and eat and keep my feet up. And TBS did me a favor by showing some good, funny movies for me to be half asleep while sort of watching.
I think I slept fairly well. I'm not even sure anymore. Breakfast went down fine and then I went back to bed for a bit before getting up just before 5. My mom was actually already awake and ready to head down to the race. She was a little paranoid and left before I did. The hotel, which was only about a mile from the start, was running a shuttle and I had no issue getting down there at about 5:30. Checked everything out, used the bathroom and before I knew it, it was time to get in the water.
I remember Tempe Town Lake being disgusting. So I was not excited about getting in. I was also not expecting it to be quite so cold. I was a little shocked, actually, with how cold it felt when I first got in. I've certainly experienced worse, but the last time I did this it was in April and the water was a lot warmer. The good thing I suppose is that in the darkness it was less obvious how gross the water was, and if it's colder, presumably less gross stuff stays alive in there. I swam my way up toward the front and found myself a good spot probably two thirds of the way over from the inside buoy line and with only one guy in front of me. I didn't really fight to be in front, there just happened to be space and nobody else seemed to be moving up so I decided to stay there. And then the cannon fired for my 15th Ironman start.
I started swimming hard, and my immediate thought was, "How am I not getting the crap kicked out of me right now?" Somehow I had managed to find the magically perfect spot for my swimming ability. The people behind me were not swimming over me, I was not catching anyone in front of me, and I was not getting squeezed out on all sides. Seriously, for probably at least the first 200 yards, it was just me, swimming in the lake instead of fighting for my life. Given that swimming has been going very well for me late in the season, I immediately felt a nice confidence boost from this. Sure, things got tight here and there, but I never had to do that thing I'd found myself doing in some races where I'd just sort of slow up and let people go around me rather than fighting for my position. So I was quite happy that at no point during the first leg of this race did I think I might drown.
The sun started coming up and it got tougher to see, but with a few hundred sets of arms flailing around in front of me I was generally confident that I was heading in the right direction, and the occasional buoy sighting confirmed this. The water still felt chilly but not uncomfortably so. I tried to hold a strong and steady effort, reminding myself several times that once I got out of that water I was done with swimming for the 2012 tri season. Not bad. I felt like I was doing quite well, and given the small amount of people around me I thought maybe for once I would have a really good swim. My fastest Ironman swim to date was in that lake in 2007 at 1:05 and I was thinking I'd get myself a PR. So imagine my surprise when I got out of the water to see 1:09? What? Rather than dwelling on it, I moved on. And actually, I think percentage wise, compared to the rest of the field, I was right where I usually am, the overall time was just a bit slow. Still, it would be nice to finally have a good swim!
Anyway, out of the water for the last time, and on the long run through transition to change gear. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe they just hadn't changed the clock from the pro time and I swam 59, but the fact that there were so many people in T1 immediately killed that delusion. The volunteers are still amazing and they even put my million gels in my jersey pockets before I headed out for my bike.
I had my instructions on my heart rate zone to follow on the bike and I did my best to stick to it. This was especially difficult early on in the ride. There seemed to be a bit of a head wind and it took me a while to settle in, to the point I was even in the small ring. I got fairly frustrated early as I got passed by a few packs of people, quite deliberately drafting off of each other. I'd take each of these as opportunities to sit up a bit and drink a bunch to get ahead on fluid consumption. Seriously, some of these packs were huge. About fifteen miles in I had let another one go and sat up to drink and I could hear a motorcycle to my left, kind of hovering there. He pulled up, said my number and told me I got a red card for drafting and had to go to the next penalty tent. The pack had passed one other guy who was in front of me who I was too close to. I didn't think I was that close but I've played enough sports in my lifetime to know that you don't get anywhere by arguing with the refs, so I just nodded and sat up to fall back a bit more.
So now I was paranoid for the next 97 miles of riding. Especially between that and the next penalty tent. Even worse was that I got passed by several more LARGE groups which I'd then have to sit up and let get very far ahead of me before proceeding on. I'll admit I was a bit taken out of things at that point. That was the first penalty I've ever received in any triathlon. Add to that we were going uphill and into a bit of a headwind and suddenly I was worried I was going to be riding six hours or something ridiculously unlike me.
Things sped up after I hit the first turnaround eighteen or so miles in when I got to go back downhill and with the wind and finally found my very crowded penalty tent. At least the marshals had been paying attention. I had my timer and they marked me down and I felt more of my race slipping away. But I did at least take a moment to drink and take a gel.
So, finally it was time to leave the penalty tent for hopefully the last time in my triathlon career. It took me ten years to get a penalty, for someone who really does try and ride legal, so let's hope that is the end of that. And then it was downhill with the wind to pick up some speed. That was much better. And it seemed like that couple of minutes had given things a chance to spread out and I was mostly just passing people so there weren't really any more fears I might be drafting. I suppose the three times out and back at least breaks things up a bit, but this is such a boring ride. And crowded.
It seemed on the second loop that the wind had shifted directions. It wasn't blowing that hard in either direction, but this time it seemed to be more with us on the way out and against on the way back. It wasn't long into the second loop that I was already lapping some people. I saw a surprising amount of crashes and flats, which is not fun. Oh, and did I mention the stench of the landfill you get to ride by constantly? Yeah, tons of fun. The miles ticked by and thankfully I was getting faster and still keeping the steady effort where it needed to be. Although I still wasn't going as fast as I was hoping to. There's really not a lot to say about the ride. I was mostly passing people, especially by the third lap, although many were quite possibly only on their second. I drank, I ate, I pedaled, and eventually it was finally time to get off after 5:29. I rode about 5:20 there in 2007 under horrifically windy conditions, so this wasn't such a good ride for me.
Immediately upon getting off the bike my hip flexors were practically screaming at me. They hadn't hurt on the ride so I don't know where that came from, but it made for a very gingerly run through T2 to grab my stuff and hit the tent, where I had a nice team of volunteers waiting for me. One even fed me my banana. By the time I got up, the weird hip flexor thing was gone, and there was nothing left to do but run. Well, after a brief stop for a slathering of sunscreen.
I had my instructions on where to keep the heart rate and tried to maintain a nice, steady pace. For me at this point, steady is still pretty darn slow. I ran 3:47 here I think the last time, and at the time it was a crash and burn. Now it seems blazing fast. My heart rate monitor seemed to be giving me some funny readings, as in, incorrect, so I mostly went by feel at that point. I felt decent enough, just tried to keep moving forward. Sometime before mile 3 I stopped in a porta potty just to pee. Honestly, I already didn't have a good feeling about things, so I didn't think I'd have anything to gain by saving 30 seconds but having to spend the rest of the run in urine-soaked shoes.
After that brief pit stop, off I went. It was warm and sunny but it didn't feel hot, which was nice. I still made sure to douse myself with water and ice when available. The first loop wasn't too bad, but somewhere around halfway through the race my legs started to feel trashed as though I had already run 24-25 miles rather than only 14-15. It just felt.... bad. And it didn't take long before I was walking a whole lot more than I was running, and eventually running just about ceased completely. Everyone passed me. The sun went down. Even walking hurt, though I was pretty sure I'd finish. Epic failure.
It took a long time to finish that run, although I did barely eke out a run split faster than my bike split. The only redeeming thing happened at the end of the race. I had been walking with a guy starting at about mile 24 for me, although he still had another lap to go. He was still in college, doing his first Ironman with his father and his sister. It was nice to have someone to talk to for the last couple of miles. But the better part was with maybe half a mile to go we came upon more of the crowds, including a guy with a microphone cheering people on who looked at us and said, "What are you guys, like fifteen?" So that at least made me feel a bit better.
At the final split he went off to do another loop and I mustered up a sort of run-ish motion toward the finish line where I crossed in 12:10. Last time I was there I won my age group by an hour. That did not happen this time. My mom miraculously was actually still there. I got my finisher stuff and then grabbed a piece of pizza and some chips to go sit at a picnic table. I wasn't that hungry but I do know I need to eat in order to function post-race. Eventually Mom found me and I got my food down and then took a while to go and get my bike and stuff. It all took way too long, but even worse was the roughly mile-and-a-half walk back to the hotel. Ouch.
So that was that anti-climactic end of my season. I wasn't really upset, I was kind of indifferent at that point. I mean, you do have to have some sense of accomplishment just finishing these things, even if you are sort of past that point. By the time we got back to the room I was too tired to care about going out and eating. I think it took me an hour to muster the energy to stand in the shower to get cleaned up. And eventually I just went to sleep. And I actually slept for the first time I think ever in the history of my doing Ironman races.
And the next morning involved the hotel breakfast buffet where I still wasn't that hungry, and then we basically just packed up and hit the road. After a quick trip to In-N-Out Burger, that is. And finally flying home where I plan to stay for a good, long time. Tired of plane rides!
So that's it. The end of my season that involved one good Ironman and one crappy one. I still just can't seem to break through this wall I've found myself behind. I'll be the first to admit that much of it is quite possibly still in my head. But for now, it was time to get some rest and then enjoy a Thanksgiving minus the pre-dinner workouts. I also haven't yet eaten enough to make myself feel sick which is also quite different from the norm post-race. In fact, it was Wednesday night before I realized I hadn't even eaten a real dinner since the race. And it's Saturday and that's actually still the only night I've eaten dinner. Ordered a pizza, by the way.
So I've tried to remain positive because it's always hard to figure out how you should react. Yes, I'm unhappy and it's embarrassing. And you'd be amazed at how much less people want to talk to you after a crappy Ironman compared to a good one. But there's not much I can do about it for now aside from take a little break and then get ready for next season. See you later, 2012.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Return to Ironman Arizona
I still remember the first thing I said to my friend Leslie after I finished my race in Tempe five years ago when she met me behind the finish line. "Don't ever do this race." I had spent the prior few years racing only in Lake Placid and Hawaii, where it's actually pleasant to race... sort of. The water is clean and the roads are inviting and the courses offer some beautiful scenery. None of these things are true with Ironman Arizona. Tempe Town Lake is the least inviting body of water I've ever swum in (you know it's a bad idea when nobody swims in the lake EVER, except on race day), three loops of the bike course riding along mostly dead landscape that includes the occasional tumbleweed and the luxury of riding past a landfill six times. And finally a run that twists and turns on lots of random pathways around the lake so that they could somehow find the miles to make up the three-loop marathon.
And yet, I've come back. It took me over five years, but here I am. Even worse is that it was mostly my idea. I'll let you know tomorrow night how I feel about my decision. Last time I was here I was at my best in terms of triathlon performance. It didn't result in my fastest time, thanks to some killer wind on the bike course, but it will be an extremely difficult performance to match. Not to mention the fact that the level of competition over the last five years has increased dramatically. Five years ago I somehow managed to come in 8th woman overall. Including the pros. There were hardly any pros. I won my age group by an hour. Yeah, I somehow don't think that's going to be happening tomorrow but I'll do what I can.
It's been a long and strange season. I don't even remember when I officially started back up last year after my stress fracture. October, maybe? Surely over a year ago. I was in a pretty bad place physically after being injured and totally out of it for so many months. But, a whole lot of races later, here I am, about to do my second Ironman of the year, my eighth race of the season (I think that might be a new record for me) I drove from New Hampshire to Florida to Alabama to Texas to Alabama back to Texas and back to New Hampshire. Flew to Phoenix and Orange County and Hawaii and now Phoenix again.
And less than a week before Thanksgiving, it's time for Ironman #14. Why do I keep signing up for these things? What about getting up at 3:30 tomorrow morning and shoveling applesauce down my throat is appealing to me? I don't know, but I paid a lot of money to do it so I might as well go.
Things have been fine. The trip here was easy and uneventful. I still remember how to drive around here. My mom came with me this time, and she came out here last time, too. Although this will be the first Ironman I've done since Dad died where she was here but he wasn't. We haven't really done much since I'm trying to rest but she's gone to some art galleries she wanted to go to and I've managed to keep my feet up a lot.
This morning we went to breakfast with Pat and Courtney and Kim, and fortunately I steered us away from Denny's and to another place I remembered going to when I was out here that serves up outrageously huge but also delicious pancakes. We all left stuffed. Then I pretty quickly got all of my stuff together to drop the bike off just after 10:00. I've done plenty of these races and I think this is the first time I've ever encountered a line at bike drop off. And not just any line, but a really long one. Apparently for some reason they decided it was important to take a photo of every single bike before they got brought into transition. What the purpose of this exercise is, I have no idea, but it seemed to only serve to make a simple process ten times more difficult than it needed to be. But eventually the bike got dropped off, and I have an end spot on the rack, the bags got where they needed to go and now it's time to just sit back and relax.
I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow and it's a bit odd to know I've got so many people paying attention to it, but I guess we're about to find out.
And yet, I've come back. It took me over five years, but here I am. Even worse is that it was mostly my idea. I'll let you know tomorrow night how I feel about my decision. Last time I was here I was at my best in terms of triathlon performance. It didn't result in my fastest time, thanks to some killer wind on the bike course, but it will be an extremely difficult performance to match. Not to mention the fact that the level of competition over the last five years has increased dramatically. Five years ago I somehow managed to come in 8th woman overall. Including the pros. There were hardly any pros. I won my age group by an hour. Yeah, I somehow don't think that's going to be happening tomorrow but I'll do what I can.
It's been a long and strange season. I don't even remember when I officially started back up last year after my stress fracture. October, maybe? Surely over a year ago. I was in a pretty bad place physically after being injured and totally out of it for so many months. But, a whole lot of races later, here I am, about to do my second Ironman of the year, my eighth race of the season (I think that might be a new record for me) I drove from New Hampshire to Florida to Alabama to Texas to Alabama back to Texas and back to New Hampshire. Flew to Phoenix and Orange County and Hawaii and now Phoenix again.
And less than a week before Thanksgiving, it's time for Ironman #14. Why do I keep signing up for these things? What about getting up at 3:30 tomorrow morning and shoveling applesauce down my throat is appealing to me? I don't know, but I paid a lot of money to do it so I might as well go.
Things have been fine. The trip here was easy and uneventful. I still remember how to drive around here. My mom came with me this time, and she came out here last time, too. Although this will be the first Ironman I've done since Dad died where she was here but he wasn't. We haven't really done much since I'm trying to rest but she's gone to some art galleries she wanted to go to and I've managed to keep my feet up a lot.
This morning we went to breakfast with Pat and Courtney and Kim, and fortunately I steered us away from Denny's and to another place I remembered going to when I was out here that serves up outrageously huge but also delicious pancakes. We all left stuffed. Then I pretty quickly got all of my stuff together to drop the bike off just after 10:00. I've done plenty of these races and I think this is the first time I've ever encountered a line at bike drop off. And not just any line, but a really long one. Apparently for some reason they decided it was important to take a photo of every single bike before they got brought into transition. What the purpose of this exercise is, I have no idea, but it seemed to only serve to make a simple process ten times more difficult than it needed to be. But eventually the bike got dropped off, and I have an end spot on the rack, the bags got where they needed to go and now it's time to just sit back and relax.
I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow and it's a bit odd to know I've got so many people paying attention to it, but I guess we're about to find out.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Why am I Still Training in November?
So whose bright idea was it for me to sign up for an Ironman at the end of November while training in New Hampshire? Oh, right, that was me. Even worse is that five years ago I swore I'd never do Ironman Arizona again. And yet there I was in June scrambling to find a way in. What an idiot.
I've never trained this late in the season before. Well, that's not entirely true. Twice I raced in Clearwater, which would've been this coming weekend. That said, both times it came after having raced in Kona, so I wasn't so much training for it as I was just doing a few workouts here and there to make sure I could survive the world's easiest half ironman. I mean, one year I shipped my bike directly from Hawaii to Florida. And that was my 56-mile PR. Imagine if I'd trained!
Normally now is the time I'm totally sick of training and just want it to be over. It's not even so much that right now for me as it's feeling like I don't even have a race next weekend. It's very strange. Halloween is over and the Christmas stuff is coming out. I'm living in some weird universe where one week we have a devastating hurricane, which of course is a tropical-related incident, and the next week, today, actually, we have to be worried about snow.
So, it just feels like I'm swimming, biking and running, not so much training for an Ironman next weekend. I had a taste of some really chilly weather this weekend when I went outside for my bike ride. I had forgotten what it was like to wear twenty pounds of clothes for a ride. It was slow! Running is being decent to me right now, and in a strange twist, swimming is finally getting faster. For someone who has had the exact same Ironman swim splits since she started doing them 8 years ago, this is a very encouraging thing. Let's hope it shows through in a week and a half.
I guess one good thing about training so late in the season is that I get to be a totally lazy slug on Thanksgiving. Not that that's the kind of holiday that requires much attention from me. But while many of my friends are enjoying their breaks currently, they'll have started up again by then, and I'll just be getting started on my rest. So that's a good thing.
For now I've got a few more days of training to deal with, then it's time to get on a plane yet again and fly out to Arizona for the race. My mom is coming with me this time. She hasn't seen me finish an Ironman since 2010 since she didn't come to Texas. It will also be a much smaller group of people I know there, which will be interesting. I really have no idea how the race is going to go, I'm just hoping to race well based on where my fitness is right now.
I'm definitely looking forward to a little break though. And of course then getting right back into training for 2013. But mostly taking a break I finally deserve and to truly be able to revel in it as opposed to coming off an abruptly ended season due to being injured or a death in the family.
Because this is turning out to be one of the top three most boring blog posts ever, I'll stop now. Although that is actually a tough list to be at the top of.
I've never trained this late in the season before. Well, that's not entirely true. Twice I raced in Clearwater, which would've been this coming weekend. That said, both times it came after having raced in Kona, so I wasn't so much training for it as I was just doing a few workouts here and there to make sure I could survive the world's easiest half ironman. I mean, one year I shipped my bike directly from Hawaii to Florida. And that was my 56-mile PR. Imagine if I'd trained!
Normally now is the time I'm totally sick of training and just want it to be over. It's not even so much that right now for me as it's feeling like I don't even have a race next weekend. It's very strange. Halloween is over and the Christmas stuff is coming out. I'm living in some weird universe where one week we have a devastating hurricane, which of course is a tropical-related incident, and the next week, today, actually, we have to be worried about snow.
So, it just feels like I'm swimming, biking and running, not so much training for an Ironman next weekend. I had a taste of some really chilly weather this weekend when I went outside for my bike ride. I had forgotten what it was like to wear twenty pounds of clothes for a ride. It was slow! Running is being decent to me right now, and in a strange twist, swimming is finally getting faster. For someone who has had the exact same Ironman swim splits since she started doing them 8 years ago, this is a very encouraging thing. Let's hope it shows through in a week and a half.
I guess one good thing about training so late in the season is that I get to be a totally lazy slug on Thanksgiving. Not that that's the kind of holiday that requires much attention from me. But while many of my friends are enjoying their breaks currently, they'll have started up again by then, and I'll just be getting started on my rest. So that's a good thing.
For now I've got a few more days of training to deal with, then it's time to get on a plane yet again and fly out to Arizona for the race. My mom is coming with me this time. She hasn't seen me finish an Ironman since 2010 since she didn't come to Texas. It will also be a much smaller group of people I know there, which will be interesting. I really have no idea how the race is going to go, I'm just hoping to race well based on where my fitness is right now.
I'm definitely looking forward to a little break though. And of course then getting right back into training for 2013. But mostly taking a break I finally deserve and to truly be able to revel in it as opposed to coming off an abruptly ended season due to being injured or a death in the family.
Because this is turning out to be one of the top three most boring blog posts ever, I'll stop now. Although that is actually a tough list to be at the top of.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Back Home
Well, my trip back home served as my punishment for having such a good time in Hawaii and served to solidify the fact that traveling to and from Hawaii can really only be a yearly event. Otherwise a person might lose their minds and/or risk spending the better part of the rest of their lives either on airplanes or in airports.
I had a very long day of mostly just waiting around for my ride to the airport at about 6:30pm. Apparently my flight had already been delayed, but I was going to be just sitting around and waiting whether I was in town in Kona or at the airport, so I might as well check in my bags and stuff. The line was horrendous as there were several flights out that night but I had more than enough time to get through. Once on the other side of security I could jump on my computer and follow the "progress" of my plane. The plane we were taking had taken off close to two hours late from Los Angeles, which of course meant that we would likely be taking off at least two hours late from Kona. I was due to have a two hour layover in Los Angeles on the way back, which at the time seemed like more than enough of a cushion. I hadn't even gone anywhere yet and already I knew I was in big trouble.
Now, sometimes I find the Kona airport adorable in the fact that it is so small and cute and all outdoors. At 9:30 at night at the beginning of 6000 miles of travel "cute" is not a word I would choose to describe it. It's more like, "How about some air conditioning?" Or, much more accurately, "Why are there literally no information screens telling us anything about what time we're leaving or what gate I'm supposed to be waiting at? Where am I supposed to go and when do I finally get to leave?!?!?" I had just hit a finite point where it was time to go home, and things were not looking good.
Finally at some point it became somewhat apparent which gate we were leaving from, and we had to pass through another screening for agricultural stuff to leave the island. On the other side of this were three gates for the three planes leaving at roughly the same time, all of which were full of passengers stuffed into way too small of a space to accommodate all of them. This plus the continued lack of communication or information made me about ready to see if I could probably get my pilot's license and charter a flight home before it was finally time to leave. I'll admit at this point I was overreacting, but did I mention I was exhausted?
It was us Los Angeles passengers, another flight to San Francisco which I also could've been on as an alternative route back, and a flight to Phoenix which again, could've been my starting point. Phoenix took off on time. San Francisco was in the same spot we were... except at one point it became apparent that things got worse for them. They announced that their plane was having some sort of radio frequency issue, hence the delay. Our plane was fine, it just wasn't there yet. Eventually they announced that they were boarding their flight, but the particular issue they had meant that they were prohibited from flying to the mainland, so they would be stopping over in Honolulu. Honestly, I have no idea how that was supposed to better their situation. I have no idea what happened to those people but I'd be absolutely shocked if any of them left for the mainland that night.
Eventually, after I was about ready to start swimming to California since I'd thrown my goggles in my carry-on, we finally got to board our flight. I spent the entire time unable to relax due to knowing almost without question that I was not going to make my flight to Newark. I might have slept some, but the little girl in the seat next to me slept more I know because she kept on falling asleep on my arm in spite of the fact that her father was in the seat on the opposite side of her. I suspect a few times he pushed her to my side.
My flight landed at 7:04am. My next flight was at 7:05am. Of course that was the only flight I was scheduled for in the entire duration of the trip that actually took off on time. So I got to spend some time in line at customer service wondering if I'd even be able to get home that day. The nice lady at the counter told me that they had already automatically rebooked me on another overnight flight home. Yeah, I know Hawaii is far away, but it is not two nights worth of travel far away. She found me another option through Cleveland a few hours later, getting me home four hours later than initially planned. All in all, not so terrible, so I took my $10 food voucher - a nearly useless consolation prize as at the Los Angeles airport I don't think you can get even a simple sandwich for less than $12 - and got to feel slightly more relaxed that at least I would soon be headed in the right direction.
The next flight took off twenty minutes late. Ok, not so bad. The woman sitting next to me never fell asleep on my arm, but the morbidly obese man sitting behind me spent the entire four hours of the flight snoring like a motorboat. Why is it that the people who snore so loudly are the ones who fall asleep the quickest and stay asleep the longest? I could tell in between my trying to watch Spider-Man for the third time in my travels (they kept playing it, and it was like seeing it for the 20th time because I swear I JUST saw that movie when it starred Tobey Maguire...) I could hear him waking himself up, but he'd just go right back to sleep. I'm just glad I wasn't the poor woman stuck sitting next to him.
Upon my arrival in Cleveland at about 7:00 that night I was annoyingly not surprised to see that my last flight had already been delayed. Scheduled for 7:50, it already said 9:29, and given how things were going, of course I knew it would probably be later than that. I walked around the airport aimlessly for a bit, just to move after so much time sitting still. It turns out I probably should've sat down earlier because everything in the Cleveland airport shuts down at about 8pm like it's midnight since there were about 17 of us left to leave the airport either heading to Manchester or Grand Rapids.
My flight was coming from Baltimore and finally it was headed for us, and there was some hope that I might see home soon. I couldn't even tell anymore what day it was or where I was or what was going on. What I did know was that when my plane finally arrived and I watched the few pieces of luggage get loaded on it, there definitely wasn't a bike case involved. Awesome. But again, very much not unexpected. At that point I only cared that I made it back. It was one of those small planes that only has two seats on one side and one on the other, and finally some good luck came when I had nobody sitting next to me. Sure, there was a crying baby in the seat in front of me, but at least I could elevate my feet.
Finally, at 11pm after 20+ hours of travel, I made it home. Our tiny plane load was the only group at the airport, and I walked to the baggage claim area and saw that of course nobody was at customer service. But before I could even try and figure out what to do next, I saw my bike just sitting all by itself in the over-sized bag area. I was too shocked to think anything, just picked it up and then stood there for another minute or two wondering what to do now about my suitcase. Then again before I had a chance to try and think, I saw an airport worker walking our direction wheeling a cart with one bag on it. Yeah, it was my suitcase. "It got here before you did," she said. "I saw you were on this flight." I should've hugged her but I was so tired I could barely even thank her. I just couldn't believe it. So at least things ended well there. Apparently there was another flight to Newark at 8:30 from Los Angeles, and I did not make it through customer service in time to get on that one, but my bags did. Sometimes the airlines can do a little something right.
So now I'm home and trying to adjust to life back on the east coast. I think wimpy things like I can't go outside because it's 55 degrees and I might freeze. And while I've actually been falling asleep fine, I'm still sleeping for way, way too long in the morning. Or I'll get up to swim and come home and go back to sleep. Fortunately it's a rest week so I've got more time for that.
For now, just tapering until the race, really. Very strange. I can say I'm very much over all of this bike taking apart and putting back together and upon my return from Phoenix I plan to stay in one place for a good, long time!
I had a very long day of mostly just waiting around for my ride to the airport at about 6:30pm. Apparently my flight had already been delayed, but I was going to be just sitting around and waiting whether I was in town in Kona or at the airport, so I might as well check in my bags and stuff. The line was horrendous as there were several flights out that night but I had more than enough time to get through. Once on the other side of security I could jump on my computer and follow the "progress" of my plane. The plane we were taking had taken off close to two hours late from Los Angeles, which of course meant that we would likely be taking off at least two hours late from Kona. I was due to have a two hour layover in Los Angeles on the way back, which at the time seemed like more than enough of a cushion. I hadn't even gone anywhere yet and already I knew I was in big trouble.
Now, sometimes I find the Kona airport adorable in the fact that it is so small and cute and all outdoors. At 9:30 at night at the beginning of 6000 miles of travel "cute" is not a word I would choose to describe it. It's more like, "How about some air conditioning?" Or, much more accurately, "Why are there literally no information screens telling us anything about what time we're leaving or what gate I'm supposed to be waiting at? Where am I supposed to go and when do I finally get to leave?!?!?" I had just hit a finite point where it was time to go home, and things were not looking good.
Finally at some point it became somewhat apparent which gate we were leaving from, and we had to pass through another screening for agricultural stuff to leave the island. On the other side of this were three gates for the three planes leaving at roughly the same time, all of which were full of passengers stuffed into way too small of a space to accommodate all of them. This plus the continued lack of communication or information made me about ready to see if I could probably get my pilot's license and charter a flight home before it was finally time to leave. I'll admit at this point I was overreacting, but did I mention I was exhausted?
It was us Los Angeles passengers, another flight to San Francisco which I also could've been on as an alternative route back, and a flight to Phoenix which again, could've been my starting point. Phoenix took off on time. San Francisco was in the same spot we were... except at one point it became apparent that things got worse for them. They announced that their plane was having some sort of radio frequency issue, hence the delay. Our plane was fine, it just wasn't there yet. Eventually they announced that they were boarding their flight, but the particular issue they had meant that they were prohibited from flying to the mainland, so they would be stopping over in Honolulu. Honestly, I have no idea how that was supposed to better their situation. I have no idea what happened to those people but I'd be absolutely shocked if any of them left for the mainland that night.
Eventually, after I was about ready to start swimming to California since I'd thrown my goggles in my carry-on, we finally got to board our flight. I spent the entire time unable to relax due to knowing almost without question that I was not going to make my flight to Newark. I might have slept some, but the little girl in the seat next to me slept more I know because she kept on falling asleep on my arm in spite of the fact that her father was in the seat on the opposite side of her. I suspect a few times he pushed her to my side.
My flight landed at 7:04am. My next flight was at 7:05am. Of course that was the only flight I was scheduled for in the entire duration of the trip that actually took off on time. So I got to spend some time in line at customer service wondering if I'd even be able to get home that day. The nice lady at the counter told me that they had already automatically rebooked me on another overnight flight home. Yeah, I know Hawaii is far away, but it is not two nights worth of travel far away. She found me another option through Cleveland a few hours later, getting me home four hours later than initially planned. All in all, not so terrible, so I took my $10 food voucher - a nearly useless consolation prize as at the Los Angeles airport I don't think you can get even a simple sandwich for less than $12 - and got to feel slightly more relaxed that at least I would soon be headed in the right direction.
The next flight took off twenty minutes late. Ok, not so bad. The woman sitting next to me never fell asleep on my arm, but the morbidly obese man sitting behind me spent the entire four hours of the flight snoring like a motorboat. Why is it that the people who snore so loudly are the ones who fall asleep the quickest and stay asleep the longest? I could tell in between my trying to watch Spider-Man for the third time in my travels (they kept playing it, and it was like seeing it for the 20th time because I swear I JUST saw that movie when it starred Tobey Maguire...) I could hear him waking himself up, but he'd just go right back to sleep. I'm just glad I wasn't the poor woman stuck sitting next to him.
Upon my arrival in Cleveland at about 7:00 that night I was annoyingly not surprised to see that my last flight had already been delayed. Scheduled for 7:50, it already said 9:29, and given how things were going, of course I knew it would probably be later than that. I walked around the airport aimlessly for a bit, just to move after so much time sitting still. It turns out I probably should've sat down earlier because everything in the Cleveland airport shuts down at about 8pm like it's midnight since there were about 17 of us left to leave the airport either heading to Manchester or Grand Rapids.
My flight was coming from Baltimore and finally it was headed for us, and there was some hope that I might see home soon. I couldn't even tell anymore what day it was or where I was or what was going on. What I did know was that when my plane finally arrived and I watched the few pieces of luggage get loaded on it, there definitely wasn't a bike case involved. Awesome. But again, very much not unexpected. At that point I only cared that I made it back. It was one of those small planes that only has two seats on one side and one on the other, and finally some good luck came when I had nobody sitting next to me. Sure, there was a crying baby in the seat in front of me, but at least I could elevate my feet.
Finally, at 11pm after 20+ hours of travel, I made it home. Our tiny plane load was the only group at the airport, and I walked to the baggage claim area and saw that of course nobody was at customer service. But before I could even try and figure out what to do next, I saw my bike just sitting all by itself in the over-sized bag area. I was too shocked to think anything, just picked it up and then stood there for another minute or two wondering what to do now about my suitcase. Then again before I had a chance to try and think, I saw an airport worker walking our direction wheeling a cart with one bag on it. Yeah, it was my suitcase. "It got here before you did," she said. "I saw you were on this flight." I should've hugged her but I was so tired I could barely even thank her. I just couldn't believe it. So at least things ended well there. Apparently there was another flight to Newark at 8:30 from Los Angeles, and I did not make it through customer service in time to get on that one, but my bags did. Sometimes the airlines can do a little something right.
So now I'm home and trying to adjust to life back on the east coast. I think wimpy things like I can't go outside because it's 55 degrees and I might freeze. And while I've actually been falling asleep fine, I'm still sleeping for way, way too long in the morning. Or I'll get up to swim and come home and go back to sleep. Fortunately it's a rest week so I've got more time for that.
For now, just tapering until the race, really. Very strange. I can say I'm very much over all of this bike taking apart and putting back together and upon my return from Phoenix I plan to stay in one place for a good, long time!
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Kona Report
Yeah, I've been a bad blogger. The worst part is there has actually been a lot going on lately that might have actually made for some interesting reading, so I'll do my best to condense the past six weeks into something manageable to read.
There has been quite a bit of travel and a lot of airports and bike disassembling/reassembling. It began with my first return to Phoenix/Tempe since I left after Ironman Arizona in 2007. I did some training there and realized that I did not at all miss the Beeline Highway. For anyone who has not been there it is one of the most boring stretches of road possible, and to make matters worse, you have to ride the same "loop" three times. It was blazing hot - triple digits - but for some reason I actually enjoy riding my bike when it's really hot out. Maybe it's just the fact that being cold on the bike is so unpleasant, so I might as well soak up the lack of shivering and blue lips and frozen water bottles while I can.
I also got to swim in Saguaro Lake, which should be called, "Why don't we swim here for the Ironman?" Lake. It's clean and nice and in an actual pretty area. This is a stark contrast to Tempe Town "Lake" where you can't see your own hand when your arm is extended. I know I've got some long arms, but seriously. There was also a run of a loop of the marathon course which was flat and easy and while boring, I think flat and easy is just what I need at this point.
After that it was onto another plane and bound for Orange County to meet up with my friend/teammate/fellow QT2 coach Michelle to do a little half ironman on the west coast. I forgot to mention that just before I left for this trip I got a phone call from my credit card company that there had been some suspicious activity on my card. I had used it earlier that day at the bike shop and Walgreens, yet somehow to go with those two purchases totally about $18 was another one, from a Babies R Us in Pennsylvania for about $2600. Yeah, I'd call that suspicious. So, great, credit card needs to be canceled and I won't get another one for a week or so, as in after I get home from my trip. No problem, I've got a back-up.
Except two days into the trip I get an e-mail from the other credit card company saying there was a suspicious charge of about $250 to some web site. Yeah, I didn't make that, either. Before I even left Phoenix I suddenly found myself limited to only the cash in my wallet. Great. So, thank you Jen, another teammate who came out to race, who fronted me the money for food while I was in California!
Anyway, there was a race and I was feeling pretty drained from some fairly hard training in Tempe. That plus heat and a ridiculous race course left me with not the greatest race performance of my career. This was a smaller race, not an "official" 70.3, and a lot less participants. That did not stop them from charging a ton for entry. It was a very early start and the swim in the ocean was nice, but then we climbed 2500' up a winding canyon road before turning around and coming back down. My bike decided to skip in the two easiest gears, so I was left to ride without them. Not ideal. Onto the run which included zero shade, tons of soft sand beach running, waiting for a train to cross before continuing, and multiple out-and-backs on the Pacific Coast Highway pretty much roasted me. I did somehow manage to get I think third in my age group. Having been first off the bike makes that not the greatest result, but I did survive.
Then it was time to head home for a couple of weeks of training and getting used to riding the trainer again thanks to lots of rain. Not super fun. I did swim open water a few more times though thanks to some friends who are relentless in their avoidance of the pool.
But before I knew it, it was time to get on a plane again. Several months ago my friend Mary decided that we needed to go to Kona. I hadn't been since my DNF in 2009 (I knew going in it wouldn't be a finish as I started with a stress fracture that had been diagnosed two weeks prior) and since I don't have to check with anyone to see if it's okay if I do anything, I decided to go. I now have to not spend money at all in 2013, but I'll tell you right now it was worth it.
I traveled for nineteen hours but somehow it didn't feel anywhere near that long. The downside is that you arrive in Kona in the dark and aside from the humidity and exiting the aircraft right onto the tarmac, it is difficult to even be able to tell you're in Hawaii. Mary had arrived just before I did and had time to get the rental car and pick me up and drive us down to the QT2 house, a condo right on the ocean about four miles from the finish line right on Alii Drive. Miraculously, we made it there in the dark. The fact that the ocean was so loud was the only evidence it was there since of course everything was pitch black.
By the time I went to bed, I had been awake for over twenty-four hours. I didn't really care. That did not stop me from waking up at something like 3:30 in the morning. Since that was 9am east coast time, it only made sense and I was expecting it. Instead of futilely trying to go back to sleep I did a few things on the computer and then went out for a run under the stars. Not a bad way to start the trip. Mary and I went and swam at the pier once it got light out and then had ourselves a nice breakfast at the infamous Lava Java. Honestly, you'd think there was nowhere else in town to eat breakfast, but it's always delicious. Eventually we made it back to the house so I could put my bike together and go for a little ride. It's amazing how fast three hours goes by with a change of venue. Then again, anything goes quicker when you're actually moving instead of in the basement. My last ride had started at 3:45am before I got on the plane. Yeah, this was better.
That night we headed over to the TYR house for a little luau which I was somehow awake enough to enjoy. The next morning we swam at the Kona Aquatics Center. This is a beautiful outdoor pool - or pools, more accurately - and it costs exactly nothing to go over and hop in a lane and get your workout done. Even better was later in the week when I'd ride my bike over and I could just leave it right on deck in sight of my lane. This should exist everywhere. After that was the Kona Underpants Run. This storied tradition goes almost as deep as the World Championship itself. It was a lot of silly fun and gave me another opportunity to do something I definitely wouldn't have done if I'd been racing. Don't get me wrong, I love racing too, but in this particular instance I truly believe this is just the kind of trip I needed.
There was probably another bike ride in there and then some time spent at the expo before I went up to Waikoloa to meet some of my athletes for dinner. I had one athlete here racing, who qualified at his first Ironman in Mont Tremblant just eight weeks prior, and he was here with his wife, who I also coach. It's so nice to actually be able to be there in person for an athlete. It's not always possible, but it's great to take advantage when it is. He was relaxed and calm and as ready as he could be.
The following morning I think I was awake before 3. I skipped the team breakfast in favor of getting my long ride done. More important than anything for the day though was some surfing. I've surfed for about ten years and have a board back home (I even went once in mid September although I had to quit after only an hour because I thought I might freeze to death) and Mary had tried it before and wanted to go again, and we had run into our friend and teammate Chuck and his wife Michelle who also wanted to join us.
This particular afternoon, I think probably for all of us, was the highlight of the trip. We had plenty of fun, but this was just an absolute blast. The waves were pretty consistent, the water was warm, everyone got up - including Mary who impressed the instructors with her ability to surf sideways on her knees rather than ever actually standing, and Chuck and I got to go out and ride a few of the bigger waves toward the end of the lesson, including the final one in which we took off right next to each other and broke off in opposite directions and rode the wave almost all the way to shore. This is definitely not something you can do the afternoon before the race if you have to race in the morning. Anyway, funnest afternoon ever.
That night Mary and I went to check out the "Thank God I'm Not Racing" party, which I thought she was just calling that to be funny but apparently it is literally called that and comes complete with hats and medals that indicate that you swam, biked and ran 0.0 miles. It was kind of a zoo with no real good food (we spent the week seeking out free food) and I think we spent roughly fifteen minutes there. We were really tired anyway.
Race morning I was up almost as early as if I had been racing. I felt no desire to be racing that day. Not in the sense that I never wanted to race, just knowing that this was not my year for it. Mary, Charlie and our other roommates Greg and Jody (Greg was racing, Jody is his girlfriend) headed down to drop Greg off and I got my run in right from the house down to meet up with Mary later. Charlie was the official QT2 photographer for the day so he had some work to do. Mary and I found a nice spot on the rocks to watch the swim and eventually made our way up near the infamous "hot corner" to watch the bikers go out. There we learned a valuable lesson: if you're crossing the street in front of the bikers on the bike course, pay attention! After countless close calls, this woman who wasn't even really looking (at this point the bikers are coming around a corner after going downhill, easily topping 20-25mph) darted out in front of this poor racer who had no chance of avoiding her, and there was a loud and painful collision. The racer, miraculously, had minimal road rash on his shoulder as the only visible injury, though was obviously shaken up. His bigger issue was his flat front tire and the unnecessary guilt of having injured this woman who really started his day on a bad foot. I have no idea what injuries she sustained, but she was kept quite still and eventually taken away by ambulance. The racer was able to change his tire and continue with his day, and he finished. What an unnecessary incident.
Anyway, after that there was plenty of waiting around for people to come back from the bike, so we passed the time with some breakfast since I personally was about to pass out. Then we found some tents with the live internet feed playing and hung out there for quite a while. Honestly, spectating is tiring! It was a very hot day and the word was that it was windy out on the bike. Big surprise. Eventually we found a good spot to watch around mile one and saw the leaders and eventually the QT2 crew trickling through. From the looks of everyone, it was an especially brutal day out there. Very few people held it together from start to finish, and that includes some major veterans of the race. Eventually we situated ourselves a tenth of a mile or so from the finish line and Mirinda Carfrae - who was running to her third place finish - stopped right in front of us and could barely make it in from that point. This is not someone who doesn't know how to handle herself out there. It was just that kind of day.
This was my second time coming to spectate the race. The last time was in 2008 and I remember seeing the finish line and wishing I was going to get to cross it that day. I haven't finished this race since 2007. That was longer ago than I'd care to admit. While 2008 made me sad, this year I wasn't feeling that way. This is not because I never want to race here again. I've realized some things recently in thinking about how the last bunch of seasons have ended. 2007 ended with me being burnt out and mentally exhausted. I finished Kona tenth in my age group and was bitterly disappointed. In 2008 I had been injured and it was my first time not qualifying since 2004. Basically I thought I was done with the sport, at which point Jesse actually reached out to me from QT2 and revived me. Unfortunately 2009 also ended in disappointment as a mere two weeks from Kona, I found out I had a stress fracture and couldn't complete the race. My comeback was incomplete and I dropped out after the swim and bike. 2010 saw an early season mental collapse followed by the unexpected death of my father, so my subsequent tri season wasn't really on the forefront of my mind. 2011 I think I tried too hard to be into things, but after losing Dad my heart just wasn't in it, and I suffered another stress fracture that left me mostly without a racing season and off the start lines of any Ironman races for the first time in eight years.
I took that injury as a sign to take a real step back. I had been plugging away for almost ten years without a break and my body was telling me I needed one. But looking back at the way all of those seasons ended, it was no wonder I'd been entering each new one feeling a little more disheartened. The last season that finished on a positive note was 2006 where in spite of feeling as though I was going to die for a good six hours post-race, I had an incredible race in Kona. Looking now at all of the negative endings, it's a wonder I was ready to start training for a new season at all.
Things feel different this time. This year started with my first respectable Ironman finish in three years. It wasn't on par with the best of my performances in the past, but it was the first time in a long time I'd been able to cross an Ironman finish line with my head held high. It included a marathon time that at other points in my career might have been viewed as a huge disappointment, but I was finally able to see it for what it was: progress in the right direction. It didn't get me to Kona, but in spite of the progress I'll admit I probably just wasn't ready yet.
Recently though I've started to be and look a whole lot fitter. I'm finally looking in the mirror and seeing the athlete that was hiding for way too long. I'm heading into Ironman Arizona in just four short weeks with a whole lot more confidence. The last time I was there I won my age group by an hour. I am definitely not expecting that kind of result, and it's funny to look back and know that I was, at the time, disappointed in my finish time because I felt like garbage during that marathon. I can still almost feel what my legs did that day as I tried to make them go faster, but I had blown them apart fighting the extreme wind on the bike. If I cross the line in a time anywhere close to the one I had there in 2007, I'd be ecstatic. At this point I don't know what to expect, but I'm going to give it everything I have. If that means I get to qualify for Kona again, then great. If not, I'll be racing Ironman Texas again in May, and one way or another, I will be at the start line in Kona for 2013. I'm not usually much for professing goals, but this particular decision has already been made.
It's not that difficult to understand why the athletes who race in Kona get there. Sure, there are some anomalies with crazy talent and flawless genetics, and if recent evidence is any indication some of them also use some less-than-legal means to enhance their performances. For the most part, it is the people who choose to do everything they can to reach their potential. I can tell you that in the years I qualified I did some crazy things to get workouts in. It was outrageously rare that I'd miss one. Actually, thinking about my best couple of years, I bet I never missed anything. I made the training a priority and it showed on race day. I was as surprised as anyone with what I was able to accomplish. I can tell you that on my best Ironman day, in Lake Placid in 2006, all I wanted to do was break eleven hours. I had no idea I had the ability to do what I did that day, but things just went perfectly.
And it turns out that's just what happens when you do the work. Your results usually show you exactly what kind of preparation you put in. My heart and my head weren't in things for a while, and my results showed that, too. You can do all of the training but if you're just going through the motions you're probably not going to get the results you want. My heart and my head are back in it again. My physical ability hasn't quite caught up yet (running continues to be slow in coming around) I finally have the confidence back that it will if I continue to follow the path I'm on. And given that, I can be a little more patient and be glad that I wasn't racing this year, and still walk away with the drive and desire to do what it takes to make sure I am on the start line and, more importantly, at the finish line a year from now.
Okay, end tangent. Where was I? QT2 racers had a great day. Cait came in ninth and even she wasn't smiling at the end of the race (if you've ever seen Cait race, it is rare that she shows any indication that running a marathon at the pace she does is difficult or taxing in the slightest) and my athlete didn't have the day he initially hoped for but having lost his Garmin on the swim and with no data to go on, accompanied with stomach issues that started before the race and continued for days after, not to mention race day conditions that were by all accounts the worst in years, I'm very happy with his race and I think he has gotten to a point where he is, too.
We somehow had some dinner and then collapsed in the grass in a heap to await Greg and Jody after their dinner and we drove back to the house. It was definitely a long and exhausting day. That did not stop the early morning wakeup on Sunday and my early morning bike and run before we eventually went to a brunch at the TYR house where Mary found herself once again getting caught up in a kick-off challenge to raise money for Teens Living With Cancer, this time against Craig Alexander who happened to be at the house hanging out with his family.
That afternoon Chuck and I tried to replicate our surfing experience from the other day, but the waves were basically non-existent and while I got in a couple of decent rides, mostly we just sat on the boards waiting for nothing to happen and wound up just paddling in. It sucks how you can never replicate that truly awesome experience. We hit up the awards that night and I found it is much less painful to sit in those folding chairs for three hours if you didn't race.
Monday was the last full day on the island for Mary and Charlie and we did some swimming and hanging out in town and we had planned on trying to surf but the waves were terrible again, so instead we went and jumped off a cliff. Because that's the same, right? Mary didn't jump. I'd jumped off high points of similar height, so I didn't waste much time launching myself off. Actually, climbing back out of the water was much worse. Then Charlie spent quite a while trying to convince himself to jump off, and got some inspiration from the first real-life slow clap I've ever witnessed from some other crazy cliff jumpers. He also said that since I had jumped, of course he couldn't walk away without doing so. We had a nice dinner on the water and ended our final day.
The next day Charlie and Mary left and I was alone, left to train and... that's about it. Honestly, it's been a really good thing, I think. I'm kind of tired of it, but I'd be tired of it anyway. My travels in preparation for IMAZ have done for me exactly what I wanted them to do. I had more ocean swims, rode way too much on the Queen K, swam in the pool, ran on the marathon course and got too much sun. Actually, I didn't get burned but I almost look like a crazy tanning lady, so it's probably time to go home.
It's been an amazing trip. We kept saying the first few days how we couldn't believe how short of a time we had been there, like on day three it felt like we'd been there for a week. Probably because we had been awake most of the time. The past week, however, has absolutely flown by and it's unbelievable to me that it's time to go home. Although the fact that I have no clean clothes left begs to differ. Also, while I've enjoyed not being cold, fall running in New England isn't such a bad thing.
So now it's about time to board a red-eye flight to Los Angeles before getting on another plane to Newark, and then yet another one bound for good old Manchester. I'm certainly not looking forward to the travel aspect but I am ready to go home. And I know I'll be here next year.
If you actually read all of that, you are obviously way too bored.
There has been quite a bit of travel and a lot of airports and bike disassembling/reassembling. It began with my first return to Phoenix/Tempe since I left after Ironman Arizona in 2007. I did some training there and realized that I did not at all miss the Beeline Highway. For anyone who has not been there it is one of the most boring stretches of road possible, and to make matters worse, you have to ride the same "loop" three times. It was blazing hot - triple digits - but for some reason I actually enjoy riding my bike when it's really hot out. Maybe it's just the fact that being cold on the bike is so unpleasant, so I might as well soak up the lack of shivering and blue lips and frozen water bottles while I can.
I also got to swim in Saguaro Lake, which should be called, "Why don't we swim here for the Ironman?" Lake. It's clean and nice and in an actual pretty area. This is a stark contrast to Tempe Town "Lake" where you can't see your own hand when your arm is extended. I know I've got some long arms, but seriously. There was also a run of a loop of the marathon course which was flat and easy and while boring, I think flat and easy is just what I need at this point.
After that it was onto another plane and bound for Orange County to meet up with my friend/teammate/fellow QT2 coach Michelle to do a little half ironman on the west coast. I forgot to mention that just before I left for this trip I got a phone call from my credit card company that there had been some suspicious activity on my card. I had used it earlier that day at the bike shop and Walgreens, yet somehow to go with those two purchases totally about $18 was another one, from a Babies R Us in Pennsylvania for about $2600. Yeah, I'd call that suspicious. So, great, credit card needs to be canceled and I won't get another one for a week or so, as in after I get home from my trip. No problem, I've got a back-up.
Except two days into the trip I get an e-mail from the other credit card company saying there was a suspicious charge of about $250 to some web site. Yeah, I didn't make that, either. Before I even left Phoenix I suddenly found myself limited to only the cash in my wallet. Great. So, thank you Jen, another teammate who came out to race, who fronted me the money for food while I was in California!
Anyway, there was a race and I was feeling pretty drained from some fairly hard training in Tempe. That plus heat and a ridiculous race course left me with not the greatest race performance of my career. This was a smaller race, not an "official" 70.3, and a lot less participants. That did not stop them from charging a ton for entry. It was a very early start and the swim in the ocean was nice, but then we climbed 2500' up a winding canyon road before turning around and coming back down. My bike decided to skip in the two easiest gears, so I was left to ride without them. Not ideal. Onto the run which included zero shade, tons of soft sand beach running, waiting for a train to cross before continuing, and multiple out-and-backs on the Pacific Coast Highway pretty much roasted me. I did somehow manage to get I think third in my age group. Having been first off the bike makes that not the greatest result, but I did survive.
Then it was time to head home for a couple of weeks of training and getting used to riding the trainer again thanks to lots of rain. Not super fun. I did swim open water a few more times though thanks to some friends who are relentless in their avoidance of the pool.
But before I knew it, it was time to get on a plane again. Several months ago my friend Mary decided that we needed to go to Kona. I hadn't been since my DNF in 2009 (I knew going in it wouldn't be a finish as I started with a stress fracture that had been diagnosed two weeks prior) and since I don't have to check with anyone to see if it's okay if I do anything, I decided to go. I now have to not spend money at all in 2013, but I'll tell you right now it was worth it.
I traveled for nineteen hours but somehow it didn't feel anywhere near that long. The downside is that you arrive in Kona in the dark and aside from the humidity and exiting the aircraft right onto the tarmac, it is difficult to even be able to tell you're in Hawaii. Mary had arrived just before I did and had time to get the rental car and pick me up and drive us down to the QT2 house, a condo right on the ocean about four miles from the finish line right on Alii Drive. Miraculously, we made it there in the dark. The fact that the ocean was so loud was the only evidence it was there since of course everything was pitch black.
By the time I went to bed, I had been awake for over twenty-four hours. I didn't really care. That did not stop me from waking up at something like 3:30 in the morning. Since that was 9am east coast time, it only made sense and I was expecting it. Instead of futilely trying to go back to sleep I did a few things on the computer and then went out for a run under the stars. Not a bad way to start the trip. Mary and I went and swam at the pier once it got light out and then had ourselves a nice breakfast at the infamous Lava Java. Honestly, you'd think there was nowhere else in town to eat breakfast, but it's always delicious. Eventually we made it back to the house so I could put my bike together and go for a little ride. It's amazing how fast three hours goes by with a change of venue. Then again, anything goes quicker when you're actually moving instead of in the basement. My last ride had started at 3:45am before I got on the plane. Yeah, this was better.
That night we headed over to the TYR house for a little luau which I was somehow awake enough to enjoy. The next morning we swam at the Kona Aquatics Center. This is a beautiful outdoor pool - or pools, more accurately - and it costs exactly nothing to go over and hop in a lane and get your workout done. Even better was later in the week when I'd ride my bike over and I could just leave it right on deck in sight of my lane. This should exist everywhere. After that was the Kona Underpants Run. This storied tradition goes almost as deep as the World Championship itself. It was a lot of silly fun and gave me another opportunity to do something I definitely wouldn't have done if I'd been racing. Don't get me wrong, I love racing too, but in this particular instance I truly believe this is just the kind of trip I needed.
There was probably another bike ride in there and then some time spent at the expo before I went up to Waikoloa to meet some of my athletes for dinner. I had one athlete here racing, who qualified at his first Ironman in Mont Tremblant just eight weeks prior, and he was here with his wife, who I also coach. It's so nice to actually be able to be there in person for an athlete. It's not always possible, but it's great to take advantage when it is. He was relaxed and calm and as ready as he could be.
The following morning I think I was awake before 3. I skipped the team breakfast in favor of getting my long ride done. More important than anything for the day though was some surfing. I've surfed for about ten years and have a board back home (I even went once in mid September although I had to quit after only an hour because I thought I might freeze to death) and Mary had tried it before and wanted to go again, and we had run into our friend and teammate Chuck and his wife Michelle who also wanted to join us.
This particular afternoon, I think probably for all of us, was the highlight of the trip. We had plenty of fun, but this was just an absolute blast. The waves were pretty consistent, the water was warm, everyone got up - including Mary who impressed the instructors with her ability to surf sideways on her knees rather than ever actually standing, and Chuck and I got to go out and ride a few of the bigger waves toward the end of the lesson, including the final one in which we took off right next to each other and broke off in opposite directions and rode the wave almost all the way to shore. This is definitely not something you can do the afternoon before the race if you have to race in the morning. Anyway, funnest afternoon ever.
That night Mary and I went to check out the "Thank God I'm Not Racing" party, which I thought she was just calling that to be funny but apparently it is literally called that and comes complete with hats and medals that indicate that you swam, biked and ran 0.0 miles. It was kind of a zoo with no real good food (we spent the week seeking out free food) and I think we spent roughly fifteen minutes there. We were really tired anyway.
Race morning I was up almost as early as if I had been racing. I felt no desire to be racing that day. Not in the sense that I never wanted to race, just knowing that this was not my year for it. Mary, Charlie and our other roommates Greg and Jody (Greg was racing, Jody is his girlfriend) headed down to drop Greg off and I got my run in right from the house down to meet up with Mary later. Charlie was the official QT2 photographer for the day so he had some work to do. Mary and I found a nice spot on the rocks to watch the swim and eventually made our way up near the infamous "hot corner" to watch the bikers go out. There we learned a valuable lesson: if you're crossing the street in front of the bikers on the bike course, pay attention! After countless close calls, this woman who wasn't even really looking (at this point the bikers are coming around a corner after going downhill, easily topping 20-25mph) darted out in front of this poor racer who had no chance of avoiding her, and there was a loud and painful collision. The racer, miraculously, had minimal road rash on his shoulder as the only visible injury, though was obviously shaken up. His bigger issue was his flat front tire and the unnecessary guilt of having injured this woman who really started his day on a bad foot. I have no idea what injuries she sustained, but she was kept quite still and eventually taken away by ambulance. The racer was able to change his tire and continue with his day, and he finished. What an unnecessary incident.
Anyway, after that there was plenty of waiting around for people to come back from the bike, so we passed the time with some breakfast since I personally was about to pass out. Then we found some tents with the live internet feed playing and hung out there for quite a while. Honestly, spectating is tiring! It was a very hot day and the word was that it was windy out on the bike. Big surprise. Eventually we found a good spot to watch around mile one and saw the leaders and eventually the QT2 crew trickling through. From the looks of everyone, it was an especially brutal day out there. Very few people held it together from start to finish, and that includes some major veterans of the race. Eventually we situated ourselves a tenth of a mile or so from the finish line and Mirinda Carfrae - who was running to her third place finish - stopped right in front of us and could barely make it in from that point. This is not someone who doesn't know how to handle herself out there. It was just that kind of day.
This was my second time coming to spectate the race. The last time was in 2008 and I remember seeing the finish line and wishing I was going to get to cross it that day. I haven't finished this race since 2007. That was longer ago than I'd care to admit. While 2008 made me sad, this year I wasn't feeling that way. This is not because I never want to race here again. I've realized some things recently in thinking about how the last bunch of seasons have ended. 2007 ended with me being burnt out and mentally exhausted. I finished Kona tenth in my age group and was bitterly disappointed. In 2008 I had been injured and it was my first time not qualifying since 2004. Basically I thought I was done with the sport, at which point Jesse actually reached out to me from QT2 and revived me. Unfortunately 2009 also ended in disappointment as a mere two weeks from Kona, I found out I had a stress fracture and couldn't complete the race. My comeback was incomplete and I dropped out after the swim and bike. 2010 saw an early season mental collapse followed by the unexpected death of my father, so my subsequent tri season wasn't really on the forefront of my mind. 2011 I think I tried too hard to be into things, but after losing Dad my heart just wasn't in it, and I suffered another stress fracture that left me mostly without a racing season and off the start lines of any Ironman races for the first time in eight years.
I took that injury as a sign to take a real step back. I had been plugging away for almost ten years without a break and my body was telling me I needed one. But looking back at the way all of those seasons ended, it was no wonder I'd been entering each new one feeling a little more disheartened. The last season that finished on a positive note was 2006 where in spite of feeling as though I was going to die for a good six hours post-race, I had an incredible race in Kona. Looking now at all of the negative endings, it's a wonder I was ready to start training for a new season at all.
Things feel different this time. This year started with my first respectable Ironman finish in three years. It wasn't on par with the best of my performances in the past, but it was the first time in a long time I'd been able to cross an Ironman finish line with my head held high. It included a marathon time that at other points in my career might have been viewed as a huge disappointment, but I was finally able to see it for what it was: progress in the right direction. It didn't get me to Kona, but in spite of the progress I'll admit I probably just wasn't ready yet.
Recently though I've started to be and look a whole lot fitter. I'm finally looking in the mirror and seeing the athlete that was hiding for way too long. I'm heading into Ironman Arizona in just four short weeks with a whole lot more confidence. The last time I was there I won my age group by an hour. I am definitely not expecting that kind of result, and it's funny to look back and know that I was, at the time, disappointed in my finish time because I felt like garbage during that marathon. I can still almost feel what my legs did that day as I tried to make them go faster, but I had blown them apart fighting the extreme wind on the bike. If I cross the line in a time anywhere close to the one I had there in 2007, I'd be ecstatic. At this point I don't know what to expect, but I'm going to give it everything I have. If that means I get to qualify for Kona again, then great. If not, I'll be racing Ironman Texas again in May, and one way or another, I will be at the start line in Kona for 2013. I'm not usually much for professing goals, but this particular decision has already been made.
It's not that difficult to understand why the athletes who race in Kona get there. Sure, there are some anomalies with crazy talent and flawless genetics, and if recent evidence is any indication some of them also use some less-than-legal means to enhance their performances. For the most part, it is the people who choose to do everything they can to reach their potential. I can tell you that in the years I qualified I did some crazy things to get workouts in. It was outrageously rare that I'd miss one. Actually, thinking about my best couple of years, I bet I never missed anything. I made the training a priority and it showed on race day. I was as surprised as anyone with what I was able to accomplish. I can tell you that on my best Ironman day, in Lake Placid in 2006, all I wanted to do was break eleven hours. I had no idea I had the ability to do what I did that day, but things just went perfectly.
And it turns out that's just what happens when you do the work. Your results usually show you exactly what kind of preparation you put in. My heart and my head weren't in things for a while, and my results showed that, too. You can do all of the training but if you're just going through the motions you're probably not going to get the results you want. My heart and my head are back in it again. My physical ability hasn't quite caught up yet (running continues to be slow in coming around) I finally have the confidence back that it will if I continue to follow the path I'm on. And given that, I can be a little more patient and be glad that I wasn't racing this year, and still walk away with the drive and desire to do what it takes to make sure I am on the start line and, more importantly, at the finish line a year from now.
Okay, end tangent. Where was I? QT2 racers had a great day. Cait came in ninth and even she wasn't smiling at the end of the race (if you've ever seen Cait race, it is rare that she shows any indication that running a marathon at the pace she does is difficult or taxing in the slightest) and my athlete didn't have the day he initially hoped for but having lost his Garmin on the swim and with no data to go on, accompanied with stomach issues that started before the race and continued for days after, not to mention race day conditions that were by all accounts the worst in years, I'm very happy with his race and I think he has gotten to a point where he is, too.
We somehow had some dinner and then collapsed in the grass in a heap to await Greg and Jody after their dinner and we drove back to the house. It was definitely a long and exhausting day. That did not stop the early morning wakeup on Sunday and my early morning bike and run before we eventually went to a brunch at the TYR house where Mary found herself once again getting caught up in a kick-off challenge to raise money for Teens Living With Cancer, this time against Craig Alexander who happened to be at the house hanging out with his family.
That afternoon Chuck and I tried to replicate our surfing experience from the other day, but the waves were basically non-existent and while I got in a couple of decent rides, mostly we just sat on the boards waiting for nothing to happen and wound up just paddling in. It sucks how you can never replicate that truly awesome experience. We hit up the awards that night and I found it is much less painful to sit in those folding chairs for three hours if you didn't race.
Monday was the last full day on the island for Mary and Charlie and we did some swimming and hanging out in town and we had planned on trying to surf but the waves were terrible again, so instead we went and jumped off a cliff. Because that's the same, right? Mary didn't jump. I'd jumped off high points of similar height, so I didn't waste much time launching myself off. Actually, climbing back out of the water was much worse. Then Charlie spent quite a while trying to convince himself to jump off, and got some inspiration from the first real-life slow clap I've ever witnessed from some other crazy cliff jumpers. He also said that since I had jumped, of course he couldn't walk away without doing so. We had a nice dinner on the water and ended our final day.
The next day Charlie and Mary left and I was alone, left to train and... that's about it. Honestly, it's been a really good thing, I think. I'm kind of tired of it, but I'd be tired of it anyway. My travels in preparation for IMAZ have done for me exactly what I wanted them to do. I had more ocean swims, rode way too much on the Queen K, swam in the pool, ran on the marathon course and got too much sun. Actually, I didn't get burned but I almost look like a crazy tanning lady, so it's probably time to go home.
It's been an amazing trip. We kept saying the first few days how we couldn't believe how short of a time we had been there, like on day three it felt like we'd been there for a week. Probably because we had been awake most of the time. The past week, however, has absolutely flown by and it's unbelievable to me that it's time to go home. Although the fact that I have no clean clothes left begs to differ. Also, while I've enjoyed not being cold, fall running in New England isn't such a bad thing.
So now it's about time to board a red-eye flight to Los Angeles before getting on another plane to Newark, and then yet another one bound for good old Manchester. I'm certainly not looking forward to the travel aspect but I am ready to go home. And I know I'll be here next year.
If you actually read all of that, you are obviously way too bored.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Circle Triathlon Race Report
Somehow summer is almost over. How is it that January, February and March never go by anywhere near as fast as June, July and August? I'm not quite ready for cooler weather yet. Especially since I've been existing in beautiful weather basically since February thanks to my winter excursions through the southeastern part of the country, so it's sure to be a pretty big shock to the system. But it has to happen eventually, and somehow it's Labor Day weekend, which means it was time for the fifth annual Circle Triathlon.
You've probably never heard of it. It's the kind of race you only know exists if you happen to live nearby. I think the way I learned of its existence the first time was a small, hand-painted sign by the side of the road on one of my bike rides. This is not the usual way people get information on races to sign up for. It's a very low-key sprint race right down the road from Mom's house on the lake which makes it nice and easy to get to and race and thus has become a tradition.
Last year I completed it while wearing the boot. I know that doing a race with a stress fracture isn't highly intelligent but I had already signed up and I was going to race no matter what. I had also challenged my cousin Jeff to come up and race, and given that he was obviously able to beat me last year, I wanted a rematch so he brought his family up for the weekend. He did not do himself any favors by drinking more than just the "taste" of wine he initially planned on and staying up a whole lot later than I did, but we all make choices we have to live with.
I woke up before my alarm to darkness, keeping my eyes closed and wondering if it was still the middle of the night or if it was late enough that I should stop trying to go back to sleep. Those thoughts were distracted by a distinct noise outside my window that made me wonder, "Is that rain?" In the history of this race I'm pretty sure it has never rained, and there was no hint that it would that morning, either. But a few minutes later when my alarm went off at six it became apparent that regardless of what the forecast had said, it was certainly raining. A check of the radar online told me that it should stop soon, and when we converged downstairs for some breakfast and some moaning about how early it was and how racing in the rain sucks (not from me) we saw the rain dissipate and got ready to make the big trek three miles down the road for the race.
I opted to ride my bike down while Jeff got a ride from his wife. I had no problem giving him that slight advantage. The moment I started riding my bike down it started raining again, although it didn't last that long. Racing in the rain really isn't that big of a deal, it's all of the other stuff surrounding the race that is a lot less fun in the rain. I spotted Jesse not long after I arrived, who would also be racing. We chatted a bit and of course I was about 99% sure he was going to win the race. Preparations were quick and painless and I managed to get down a double latte gel (I HATE double latte gels, but I needed the double dose of caffeine) before putting on my skin suit and heading for the water. Again I decided to go without the wetsuit both because I wasn't sure I'd be faster given time lost taking it off later and because the thing is starting to fall apart and I need it to last at least through November.
I was in the first wave. This may be the only race anywhere in which numbers, and subsequently, swim waves, are assigned in the order in which you sign up for the race. This means that as soon as I hear that registration is open, I sign up, and for the second year in a row I was wearing #5. Jesse in wave #5 and Jeff in wave #6 were not thrilled with their assignments. I'll have to tell them when registration opens next year... after I sign up myself. Anyway, we made it down to the beach and it was dry at this point and it was a very casual start but eventually we were finally told to go.
I dived in and started swimming good and hard. Looking at the people starting with me, I really had no doubts that I'd be one of the fastest ones and likely wouldn't have to worry too much about swimming with a crowd. It was a bit tight for a minute maybe, but then three of us broke away. There was one guy in a wetsuit who basically was a fish and there was no hanging on his feet. I was swimming right behind a woman wearing just a regular swim suit and had a feeling that she may have started a bit hard and I wouldn't have to worry about her for very long, and after we made the turn at the first buoy I was proven correct when I moved around her and left her behind for the rest of the swim. I swam good and hard and had no issues following the course and before I knew it, I had made it out of the water. The guy in front of me seemed to have a substantial lead already, though.
I looked down at my watch as I hit the beach and saw 7:02, which was my fastest for that swim. Of course, on any given year the swim probably varies quite a bit in distance, but being faster is still a good thing. I changed as quickly as I could, opting to skip the sunglasses and hitting the course. I wasn't paying that much attention and I couldn't tell if the guy in front of me was already on the bike or not. I assumed he was given the amount of a lead he had on me coming out of the water. I put my head down and went pretty hard, starting the heavy breathing as I tried to push the pace. I am terrible at pushing the pace but I'm trying to be better, which is why races like this are so good for me. Some guy passed me when we were going up one of the first little hills but I immediately passed him going down and didn't see him again.
While this race very much caters to the beginner triathlete, just given the nature of the area by default the bike course isn't going to be easy. But it is literally one of the toughest bike courses of any race that I do. I had the distinct advantage of having ridden it a bunch of times in training, so I know where the worst hills are and I know which sketchy, twisty downhills I need to worry about and which ones I don't. No wondering which way to turn, just follow the course I know so well. The past couple of times I've raced there I've not been in a good spot and therefore found myself getting passed by people on the bike. It was a pleasant change when this did not happen. I kept waiting for it to, but it didn't. I was completely alone and would occasionally turn around to look behind me to confirm that that wasn't going to change anytime soon.
I still thought there was someone else in front of me somewhere out of sight but later found out that I was actually leading the entire field. That's a new one for me. In the past there has been a police car escorting the lead biker, but that didn't happen this time. About halfway through it started raining pretty hard again, but then stopped again at some point. It was one of those mornings. I continued riding as hard as I could manage, impatiently awaiting a certain point on the course I thoroughly enjoy after you ride up the last somewhat nasty hill by this little farm and you can really settle in and push hard. With about a mile to go as I turned onto the final stretch of a few more little hills and some of the worst pavement you'll see anywhere, Jesse finally passed me... after having started eight minutes after I did. "Wow, this IS really hilly!" Yeah, I wasn't kidding about that. I got passed by someone else not long after as I pushed it the final stretch to transition, barely getting my feet out of my shoes before I dismounted.
I took a moment to try and wipe the exceptional amount of dirt off the bottoms of my feet before slipping on my shoes, grabbing my race belt and visor and taking off on the run course. Running and I have had a tumultuous relationship in the recent past, but we're starting to reconcile. I wasn't looking at my watch or anything, I was just trying to run fast... or whatever my approximation of "fast" is these days. The good news is, I actually felt like I was really running for the first time in a very long time. Sure, Timberman was a good start, but this time I was actually trying to be speedy, and it almost felt successful. This was a nice change not only from most other races I've done recently, but also last year's outing at this race in which I donned the boot and proceeded to get passed by almost everyone else in the race.
A few people passed me and reminded me that yep, I'm still slow, but I'm at least less slow than I was. And while probably more than half of the people I know can run marathons at the pace I completed that 2.7 miles, I have to at least remind myself that it is good progress, and at least it wasn't my legs giving out on me that might have slowed me down a tad, but rather the feeling that if I'd tried to push any more I just might have thrown up. Did I mention that fast and I don't get along? Anyway, I crossed the finish line and regardless of any outcomes I was quite happy with how everything went. It was nice not to spend the run wondering if there was some way to become invisible so nobody could actually watch me trying to do the race at such a slow pace.
It was my fastest overall time at that race, although 2009 included a much longer swim and faster bike and run splits, but it still felt good. I am disappointed that I missed the overall win for the women by 18 seconds. I was thinking that looking back I don't know where I could find 18 more seconds though it turns out I was 22 seconds slower in transition and maybe wearing my wetsuit would've made the difference, so I think next year I'll definitely be wearing it. But it's still nice to walk away from a race feeling good about the result and, more importantly, having fun doing so.
Wait, I almost forgot about the real race, the one against my cousin Jeff! Well, I won. He biked past me when I was closing out the run (run and bike courses intersect for about the last half-mile) and I saw him hitting the run course just as I was finishing, but I brought the title back where it rightfully belongs. And by a solid twelve minutes. And of course the whole family was there to witness it. My brother even made it down, all the way from the house that five-minute drive away. He's seen me race one other time, and that was in Hawaii. Also, as predicted, Jesse won the race outright.
The rest of the weekend was spent with the family. They all enjoyed a feast last night of lobster, steak, sausage and steamers - all things I don't eat. It was sort of amusing to eat my chicken in ten minutes and then just sit there as they all kept eating and eating for a good ninety minutes. I didn't feel bad later when they were all moaning about how their stomachs were about to explode and I still felt just fine.
And now everyone is gone and I'm staying here until tomorrow. It was a good distraction for the weekend. It's not going to be an easy week, but at least I have a lot of training to get me through it.
You've probably never heard of it. It's the kind of race you only know exists if you happen to live nearby. I think the way I learned of its existence the first time was a small, hand-painted sign by the side of the road on one of my bike rides. This is not the usual way people get information on races to sign up for. It's a very low-key sprint race right down the road from Mom's house on the lake which makes it nice and easy to get to and race and thus has become a tradition.
Last year I completed it while wearing the boot. I know that doing a race with a stress fracture isn't highly intelligent but I had already signed up and I was going to race no matter what. I had also challenged my cousin Jeff to come up and race, and given that he was obviously able to beat me last year, I wanted a rematch so he brought his family up for the weekend. He did not do himself any favors by drinking more than just the "taste" of wine he initially planned on and staying up a whole lot later than I did, but we all make choices we have to live with.
I woke up before my alarm to darkness, keeping my eyes closed and wondering if it was still the middle of the night or if it was late enough that I should stop trying to go back to sleep. Those thoughts were distracted by a distinct noise outside my window that made me wonder, "Is that rain?" In the history of this race I'm pretty sure it has never rained, and there was no hint that it would that morning, either. But a few minutes later when my alarm went off at six it became apparent that regardless of what the forecast had said, it was certainly raining. A check of the radar online told me that it should stop soon, and when we converged downstairs for some breakfast and some moaning about how early it was and how racing in the rain sucks (not from me) we saw the rain dissipate and got ready to make the big trek three miles down the road for the race.
I opted to ride my bike down while Jeff got a ride from his wife. I had no problem giving him that slight advantage. The moment I started riding my bike down it started raining again, although it didn't last that long. Racing in the rain really isn't that big of a deal, it's all of the other stuff surrounding the race that is a lot less fun in the rain. I spotted Jesse not long after I arrived, who would also be racing. We chatted a bit and of course I was about 99% sure he was going to win the race. Preparations were quick and painless and I managed to get down a double latte gel (I HATE double latte gels, but I needed the double dose of caffeine) before putting on my skin suit and heading for the water. Again I decided to go without the wetsuit both because I wasn't sure I'd be faster given time lost taking it off later and because the thing is starting to fall apart and I need it to last at least through November.
I was in the first wave. This may be the only race anywhere in which numbers, and subsequently, swim waves, are assigned in the order in which you sign up for the race. This means that as soon as I hear that registration is open, I sign up, and for the second year in a row I was wearing #5. Jesse in wave #5 and Jeff in wave #6 were not thrilled with their assignments. I'll have to tell them when registration opens next year... after I sign up myself. Anyway, we made it down to the beach and it was dry at this point and it was a very casual start but eventually we were finally told to go.
I dived in and started swimming good and hard. Looking at the people starting with me, I really had no doubts that I'd be one of the fastest ones and likely wouldn't have to worry too much about swimming with a crowd. It was a bit tight for a minute maybe, but then three of us broke away. There was one guy in a wetsuit who basically was a fish and there was no hanging on his feet. I was swimming right behind a woman wearing just a regular swim suit and had a feeling that she may have started a bit hard and I wouldn't have to worry about her for very long, and after we made the turn at the first buoy I was proven correct when I moved around her and left her behind for the rest of the swim. I swam good and hard and had no issues following the course and before I knew it, I had made it out of the water. The guy in front of me seemed to have a substantial lead already, though.
I looked down at my watch as I hit the beach and saw 7:02, which was my fastest for that swim. Of course, on any given year the swim probably varies quite a bit in distance, but being faster is still a good thing. I changed as quickly as I could, opting to skip the sunglasses and hitting the course. I wasn't paying that much attention and I couldn't tell if the guy in front of me was already on the bike or not. I assumed he was given the amount of a lead he had on me coming out of the water. I put my head down and went pretty hard, starting the heavy breathing as I tried to push the pace. I am terrible at pushing the pace but I'm trying to be better, which is why races like this are so good for me. Some guy passed me when we were going up one of the first little hills but I immediately passed him going down and didn't see him again.
While this race very much caters to the beginner triathlete, just given the nature of the area by default the bike course isn't going to be easy. But it is literally one of the toughest bike courses of any race that I do. I had the distinct advantage of having ridden it a bunch of times in training, so I know where the worst hills are and I know which sketchy, twisty downhills I need to worry about and which ones I don't. No wondering which way to turn, just follow the course I know so well. The past couple of times I've raced there I've not been in a good spot and therefore found myself getting passed by people on the bike. It was a pleasant change when this did not happen. I kept waiting for it to, but it didn't. I was completely alone and would occasionally turn around to look behind me to confirm that that wasn't going to change anytime soon.
I still thought there was someone else in front of me somewhere out of sight but later found out that I was actually leading the entire field. That's a new one for me. In the past there has been a police car escorting the lead biker, but that didn't happen this time. About halfway through it started raining pretty hard again, but then stopped again at some point. It was one of those mornings. I continued riding as hard as I could manage, impatiently awaiting a certain point on the course I thoroughly enjoy after you ride up the last somewhat nasty hill by this little farm and you can really settle in and push hard. With about a mile to go as I turned onto the final stretch of a few more little hills and some of the worst pavement you'll see anywhere, Jesse finally passed me... after having started eight minutes after I did. "Wow, this IS really hilly!" Yeah, I wasn't kidding about that. I got passed by someone else not long after as I pushed it the final stretch to transition, barely getting my feet out of my shoes before I dismounted.
I took a moment to try and wipe the exceptional amount of dirt off the bottoms of my feet before slipping on my shoes, grabbing my race belt and visor and taking off on the run course. Running and I have had a tumultuous relationship in the recent past, but we're starting to reconcile. I wasn't looking at my watch or anything, I was just trying to run fast... or whatever my approximation of "fast" is these days. The good news is, I actually felt like I was really running for the first time in a very long time. Sure, Timberman was a good start, but this time I was actually trying to be speedy, and it almost felt successful. This was a nice change not only from most other races I've done recently, but also last year's outing at this race in which I donned the boot and proceeded to get passed by almost everyone else in the race.
A few people passed me and reminded me that yep, I'm still slow, but I'm at least less slow than I was. And while probably more than half of the people I know can run marathons at the pace I completed that 2.7 miles, I have to at least remind myself that it is good progress, and at least it wasn't my legs giving out on me that might have slowed me down a tad, but rather the feeling that if I'd tried to push any more I just might have thrown up. Did I mention that fast and I don't get along? Anyway, I crossed the finish line and regardless of any outcomes I was quite happy with how everything went. It was nice not to spend the run wondering if there was some way to become invisible so nobody could actually watch me trying to do the race at such a slow pace.
It was my fastest overall time at that race, although 2009 included a much longer swim and faster bike and run splits, but it still felt good. I am disappointed that I missed the overall win for the women by 18 seconds. I was thinking that looking back I don't know where I could find 18 more seconds though it turns out I was 22 seconds slower in transition and maybe wearing my wetsuit would've made the difference, so I think next year I'll definitely be wearing it. But it's still nice to walk away from a race feeling good about the result and, more importantly, having fun doing so.
Wait, I almost forgot about the real race, the one against my cousin Jeff! Well, I won. He biked past me when I was closing out the run (run and bike courses intersect for about the last half-mile) and I saw him hitting the run course just as I was finishing, but I brought the title back where it rightfully belongs. And by a solid twelve minutes. And of course the whole family was there to witness it. My brother even made it down, all the way from the house that five-minute drive away. He's seen me race one other time, and that was in Hawaii. Also, as predicted, Jesse won the race outright.
The rest of the weekend was spent with the family. They all enjoyed a feast last night of lobster, steak, sausage and steamers - all things I don't eat. It was sort of amusing to eat my chicken in ten minutes and then just sit there as they all kept eating and eating for a good ninety minutes. I didn't feel bad later when they were all moaning about how their stomachs were about to explode and I still felt just fine.
And now everyone is gone and I'm staying here until tomorrow. It was a good distraction for the weekend. It's not going to be an easy week, but at least I have a lot of training to get me through it.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Vermont Camp Report
This past weekend was the annual QT2 training camp in Vermont. As far as I know, this is the QT2 camp that started them all. My first participation in this camp was in 2009 when it was scheduled as the biggest weekend before Lake Placid. My most vivid memory is spending at least an hour sitting at a table one night with Cait and Chrissie as we composed a several-page list of all of the delicious things we planned on eating once the race was over. I also made it up in 2010 when it was the same weekend. Last summer it got moved to August since there were so many people doing Ironman Coeur D'Alene on the weekend camp usually fell, and unfortunately my broken foot took me out of contention, although it wasn't a bad year to miss because they had to get out of town quick before hurricane Irene came in and literally flooded the town. Seriously, they've made a ton of progress but there are still plenty of reminders riding around of how badly that area suffered from that storm.
Anyway, that brought us to this year, where I decided to go to camp once again because, well, why not? Currently I need all of the outside training motivation I can get even though I'm typically fine to do things on my own. So this was perfect and easy to get to. I headed up on Thursday after a bit of a setback when I got about thirty minutes into my drive and realized that I had forgotten my lap top. So it took me quite a bit longer than expected to get there, but I did arrive at a reasonable hour and before they ran out of sandwiches.
It was a very small group for camp this year. A lot of people did the camp in Lake Placid who probably would've done this one without that option but didn't really feel the need to do both. We all stayed in one big house which was nice and instead of sharing a hotel room with 2-4 other people as I'm accustomed to, I wound up in my own room and even with an extra bed. On Friday we started things off with an easy swim in the lake at the state park. It's a small lake but it's the kind of venue I love where the water is the perfect temperature and you can tell it's actually clean. I wore a skin suit instead of a wetsuit because my wetsuit is very much showing its age and I need to save any and all future wearings to only when I really need it so as to extend its life as long as possible. Remember when the absolute top of the line wetsuits were "only" $400?
After the swim we changed into our run gear and headed out for the long run of the weekend. I was glad to be getting this out of the way first because for me personally I was sure it would be the most difficult workout of the weekend, and I was certainly right about that. In retrospect, having forgotten to eat anything all morning before probably didn't help, and the gels I took certainly didn't make up for it. I ran with Dan, one of my teammates for a while, but after three miles or so he took off as I slowly deteriorated. Honestly, that run was how I had expected my run in Timberman to feel, so I'll certainly trade a great run at Timberman with a crappy one a few days later at camp.
We didn't waste much time once we got back to the house hopping on our bikes for an easy ride. It was short and easy and the weather was great. It left us with an uncharacteristic lull in the afternoon where we actually had some time to relax for a bit before heading to the pool for a quick video analysis. I hadn't had one of those in a long time and I'm happy to say that my swim stroke apparently finally has a good catch. Of course now this is at the expense of zero back end, but with swimming there is always something new to work on.
Saturday we were back at the lake for a 1-mile swim time trial. Given the group of people I figured I'd be swimming mostly alone, especially in the skin suit since most others were in a wetsuit (except Cait and another pro, AJ, both of whom I would only keep up with if I had some sort of gas powered motor) and I was right. I swam a bit with this other camper, Tim (not Snow - he was off doing a 6-hour mountain bike race) and then pulled ahead and swam hard. I finished exactly where I expected within the group, about three minutes behind the next closest and two minutes ahead of the one after me, so truly no-man's land. But I pushed hard and was very happy with how it went.
A little drive back to the house to hit the road for the long ride. We split off into a couple of very small groups. I started off with Tim (again, not Snow) but I knew once we hit this major hill that he was going to take off on me. Just because he's a way better climber than I am. And I was right, so I spent the remainder of the ride after the first hour by myself. It really wasn't a big deal, I do that all the time, and I was riding six hours while a lot of people around me weren't riding as long.
The weather had been fantastic, but as I climbed up toward Killington, the rain started. I've ridden by Killington about five times in my life now, and it rains every single time. Although apparently some others got hail there, so I wasn't quite as bad off as I could've been. The ride was pretty uneventful aside from the rain. Courtney had the van for intermittent refills, I was a little jealous of people floating down the river on inner tubes as apparently you can just go rent the things at these little road side stores and they drop you off up river and you just float back. You could tell some places where the roads had washed out.
On the way back of course it rained at Killington again and I heard some scary thunder as I got closer to the house but I survived intact and made it back to change and head out for an easy transition run. And then finally I was done! As always for these camps, we were very late for our initially planned dinner reservation and wound up in a different restaurant because of it, although it was the restaurant we had always gone to in the past anyway.
For the final day we started with an easy ride down to the bottom of Tyson Road where we would be doing a 6+ mile time trial, mostly uphill. We had climbed it the day before and I wasn't really looking forward to it, though not dreading it either. We lined up in the order we had finished the swim and took off in whatever intervals we had come in during the swim. So, since I was three minutes or so behind John Spinney in the swim, I left three minutes or so behind him. Tim started off two minutes behind me and I really thought he was going to catch me. I had a hard time getting my heart rate up even though I felt as though I was pushing fairly hard, but given it would take nearly thirty minutes you can't exactly sprint like crazy from the beginning. I didn't get caught and kept my place in line and was happy with the effort.
Then all we had to do was ride home nice and easy, go for a little one-hour run and another camp had come to a close. I'm glad I went to this one. I probably won't be able to go to as many camps next year so I'm glad I got these in. This week has been a bit crazy with cramming a lot of the bigger training into the earlier part of the week because I'm doing a sprint race this weekend. It is the fifth annual Circle Triathlon in Ashland, and right down the road from my mom's house on the lake so how can I not do it? Besides, I have to redeem myself from last year, being beaten by my cousin Jeff while I competed in the boot. No boot this year! And some actual training will probably help, too.
Anyway, that brought us to this year, where I decided to go to camp once again because, well, why not? Currently I need all of the outside training motivation I can get even though I'm typically fine to do things on my own. So this was perfect and easy to get to. I headed up on Thursday after a bit of a setback when I got about thirty minutes into my drive and realized that I had forgotten my lap top. So it took me quite a bit longer than expected to get there, but I did arrive at a reasonable hour and before they ran out of sandwiches.
It was a very small group for camp this year. A lot of people did the camp in Lake Placid who probably would've done this one without that option but didn't really feel the need to do both. We all stayed in one big house which was nice and instead of sharing a hotel room with 2-4 other people as I'm accustomed to, I wound up in my own room and even with an extra bed. On Friday we started things off with an easy swim in the lake at the state park. It's a small lake but it's the kind of venue I love where the water is the perfect temperature and you can tell it's actually clean. I wore a skin suit instead of a wetsuit because my wetsuit is very much showing its age and I need to save any and all future wearings to only when I really need it so as to extend its life as long as possible. Remember when the absolute top of the line wetsuits were "only" $400?
After the swim we changed into our run gear and headed out for the long run of the weekend. I was glad to be getting this out of the way first because for me personally I was sure it would be the most difficult workout of the weekend, and I was certainly right about that. In retrospect, having forgotten to eat anything all morning before probably didn't help, and the gels I took certainly didn't make up for it. I ran with Dan, one of my teammates for a while, but after three miles or so he took off as I slowly deteriorated. Honestly, that run was how I had expected my run in Timberman to feel, so I'll certainly trade a great run at Timberman with a crappy one a few days later at camp.
We didn't waste much time once we got back to the house hopping on our bikes for an easy ride. It was short and easy and the weather was great. It left us with an uncharacteristic lull in the afternoon where we actually had some time to relax for a bit before heading to the pool for a quick video analysis. I hadn't had one of those in a long time and I'm happy to say that my swim stroke apparently finally has a good catch. Of course now this is at the expense of zero back end, but with swimming there is always something new to work on.
Saturday we were back at the lake for a 1-mile swim time trial. Given the group of people I figured I'd be swimming mostly alone, especially in the skin suit since most others were in a wetsuit (except Cait and another pro, AJ, both of whom I would only keep up with if I had some sort of gas powered motor) and I was right. I swam a bit with this other camper, Tim (not Snow - he was off doing a 6-hour mountain bike race) and then pulled ahead and swam hard. I finished exactly where I expected within the group, about three minutes behind the next closest and two minutes ahead of the one after me, so truly no-man's land. But I pushed hard and was very happy with how it went.
A little drive back to the house to hit the road for the long ride. We split off into a couple of very small groups. I started off with Tim (again, not Snow) but I knew once we hit this major hill that he was going to take off on me. Just because he's a way better climber than I am. And I was right, so I spent the remainder of the ride after the first hour by myself. It really wasn't a big deal, I do that all the time, and I was riding six hours while a lot of people around me weren't riding as long.
The weather had been fantastic, but as I climbed up toward Killington, the rain started. I've ridden by Killington about five times in my life now, and it rains every single time. Although apparently some others got hail there, so I wasn't quite as bad off as I could've been. The ride was pretty uneventful aside from the rain. Courtney had the van for intermittent refills, I was a little jealous of people floating down the river on inner tubes as apparently you can just go rent the things at these little road side stores and they drop you off up river and you just float back. You could tell some places where the roads had washed out.
On the way back of course it rained at Killington again and I heard some scary thunder as I got closer to the house but I survived intact and made it back to change and head out for an easy transition run. And then finally I was done! As always for these camps, we were very late for our initially planned dinner reservation and wound up in a different restaurant because of it, although it was the restaurant we had always gone to in the past anyway.
For the final day we started with an easy ride down to the bottom of Tyson Road where we would be doing a 6+ mile time trial, mostly uphill. We had climbed it the day before and I wasn't really looking forward to it, though not dreading it either. We lined up in the order we had finished the swim and took off in whatever intervals we had come in during the swim. So, since I was three minutes or so behind John Spinney in the swim, I left three minutes or so behind him. Tim started off two minutes behind me and I really thought he was going to catch me. I had a hard time getting my heart rate up even though I felt as though I was pushing fairly hard, but given it would take nearly thirty minutes you can't exactly sprint like crazy from the beginning. I didn't get caught and kept my place in line and was happy with the effort.
Then all we had to do was ride home nice and easy, go for a little one-hour run and another camp had come to a close. I'm glad I went to this one. I probably won't be able to go to as many camps next year so I'm glad I got these in. This week has been a bit crazy with cramming a lot of the bigger training into the earlier part of the week because I'm doing a sprint race this weekend. It is the fifth annual Circle Triathlon in Ashland, and right down the road from my mom's house on the lake so how can I not do it? Besides, I have to redeem myself from last year, being beaten by my cousin Jeff while I competed in the boot. No boot this year! And some actual training will probably help, too.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Timberman... Ten Years Later
This past weekend was the annual Timberman 70.3 in Gilford, NH. I was actually able to participate for the first time in several years. They've gotten at least some of my money the past couple of years but last year I was unable to participate thanks to a broken foot and the year before it was decided that I was in such a bad place as far as training went that really no good could come from my racing, so I watched instead. The year before that I participated on the bike as part of a relay which was a lot of fun. I believe they took away relays for a couple of years after that, but they've since been reinstated. Probably because the race has failed to sell out the past couple of years.
It's crazy to me to think that it was ten years ago I did this race for the first time, as my first half and second triathlon ever. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. My training consisted of, "I'll just swim, bike and run sometimes," my bike was my dad's old road bike with no aero bars and which I even wore bike gloves and socks to ride, I took a camelback on the bike because I didn't understand bottle hand-ups, and my race nutrition included, among other things, Wheaties for breakfast (how can you go wrong, right) a banana, a little bag of gummi bears (sort of like those Gu chews, right?) and a Rice Krispie treat. I remember thinking I was very clever about all of that. I have no recollection of where I got those ideas from, I probably read some random stuff on the internet.
I know I signed up two months before when I discovered there was a half in New Hampshire and thought, why not? Uh, why not? Maybe because you have no idea what you're doing? And it's not like the concept of online coaching was so wide spread back then. Not that I could've afforded it. At the time they still allowed you to sign up for a first-timers wave, which went off last. The sprint was also held on the same day, so I came out of the water with mostly people from the sprint because me, the terrible swimmer with a terrible sense of direction on a swim course (had to be redirected toward the finish by a kayak) and without a wetsuit, took about 45 minutes to complete the course. Once I had biked past the sprint turnaround, I felt like I was on a training ride all by myself. Definitely not like the course is now.
The bike went pretty well and upon my return I'm sure that people were finishing the race as I headed out on the run. Did I mention it was about 96 degrees that day? The gummi bears cannot save you when it's that hot out. I'm sure I ate all sorts of random crap from aid stations like cookies and chips and pretzels, in the hopes that things would get better. I still spent most of the run wanting to curl up in the shade under a tree and take a nap, but I kept going. Somewhere around mile 9 I remember hearing a car honking on the road going the other way and discovered through the haze of late-race confusion that it was my cousin and her boyfriend (now-husband) who had already completed the race and was going home. That was not encouraging.
I remember reaching the finish line and thinking that was by far the most difficult thing I had ever done but at the same time was already wondering how I was going to do better next time. After a dip in the lake where I swear I heard my skin sizzle, I took a look in the food tent that was devoid of pizza and left with mostly a few abandoned bagel halves and some empty jars of peanut butter and instead my parents took me out for ice cream. I think that brownie sundae at Sawyer's still sticks out in my mind as top five ice cream experiences.
You know, that stupid race probably ruined my career in the film industry? Two weeks later I moved to Los Angeles and at the age of 23 I had what I thought was going to be my dream job, working on movie sets. Not that it's super glamorous to be a production assistant, whose jobs included things like standing in the background of a scene making sure nobody walked through while they were shooting, writing down when the gaffers went to lunch, supplying wetsuits to the production staff for the water scenes, watching crap get blown up or trying to stay out of the way of the cattle they are trying to get to stampede through the fake South American town re-created north of LA (tip you may never need in life: cattle really don't want to stampede, even with ranchers chasing them on horses with whips while yelling, "Yee-haw!") or getting blueberries and yogurt for "The Rock" for his breakfast.
The point is, I had become hooked on the whole, stupid triathlon thing and working sixteen hours a day was vastly cutting into my training time. I'd run during the week and go ride the Pacific Coast Highway on the weekends, but I didn't want my life to be all about work, so I eventually left. Timberman was my favorite race for a long time and is probably mostly responsible for my falling in love with the sport. I did it seven years in a row, and the last time I completed the whole course was in 2008, when I hit what was at the time my lowest point in triathlon. It is I think the only time I have cried on the course.
Okay, that was a long enough tangent, so why don't we talk about this year? I was not excited about the race. I wasn't not excited, either, as in I wasn't sitting around thinking that I didn't want to race at all, I just wasn't thinking much about it. For starters, I had three people I coach racing Ironman Mont Tremblant. Two were going for their first Ironman and the third has completed a few but had suffered from DNFs lately due to nutritional issues. I'll just skip to the end there and tell you that they all had great races, one got a Kona slot on his first try, and I got to watch them finish online.
The other strange thing was that I was alone before the race. That was usually the case in the beginning, but Timberman had become a big event with some of my friends and we'd all race and yet for some reason this year there was just hardly anyone I knew who raced. I was staying at my mom's on the lake, but since one of my cousins was visiting at my grandmother's from out of town, there was nobody at the house. All that alone time and not training gave me a bit too much time to think and I had a bit of an emotional lead-up to the race based on things that had almost nothing to do with the race at all. Among other things I had remembered going out to dinner with my dad the night before the race, two weeks before he died. Or a couple of years before that when all of my friends stayed at the new house and the night before the race was the first night we ever had dinner on the big dining room table my parents were so excited to have found. So, Timberman has a lot of memories for me.
Anyway, enough about that and let's get on with the race and stuff, right? I went to bed nice and early and slept really well. My alarm went off at 4am as I had decided to leave nice and early to get a parking spot right at Ellacoya. My friends used to make fun of me for wanting to get there so early to get a parking spot since you could just take the shuttle from Gunstock, but let me tell you, having your car right there and not having to deal with that stupid shuttle plus getting your bike back to the car afterward is definitely worth it to me. You have to get up early that day anyway, right? Might as well get a good parking space.
I arrived just after 4:30 and had gotten a bit of a head start on my breakfast on the drive over. It's at times like these that it's a good thing applesauce is basically drinkable. Ugh. Of course in the dark I felt as though I'd gotten most of it down, only to park the car and realize I still had at least half to go. The other nice thing about early arrivals is the clean porta-potties with no lines. Fortunately I had also remembered that in the middle of August it's kind of dark that early in the morning so I remembered my head lamp. It was also pretty darn chilly.
I got my transition set up at #890 (the first time I did this race I was #892 - so close!) and then actually went and hung out at my car since there was nothing better to do and in a strange twist really nobody I knew around to talk to. I had run into my friend Lauren a couple of bikes down from mine, but that was it for the morning until I finally lined up with my swim wave and saw a couple of other people. I finally put on my wetsuit, then had to take it off for one more bathroom stop, and then it was time to eat my gel and get in the water.
I was still not excited, but not dreading it. It was just like, a process I had to follow. I lined up toward the front and told myself I was going to have a good swim. I have always been notoriously slower than normal on that swim. Not quite the 45 minutes of that first year, but always about two minutes slower than I felt I should've gone. I had nothing to lose, so I decided to go in with the mentality that things would go well. It was a bit crowded to start but I was on the inside and stayed there and followed the course easily. It got a bit rough at times with some boat wakes, but not as bad as prior years. And there was one spot about halfway through where it seemed every wave in front of me had bunched up to collide into one massive human obstacle course, so things got a bit slow there, and then again on the way in when I tried to follow the feet of someone who seemed insistent of going off course, but then I could see the exit arch in the distance and had no trouble following a straight line in to the finish.
I exited the water in just over 33 minutes, which again, for me on that particular course, I was very happy with. I think that's the fastest I've done that one and at 5th in my age group out of the water, definitely not a normal spot for me. So in spite of the ups and downs of the past couple of years, my swim of all things has actually improved some, so I was glad to see the day begin on a good note.
Transition was way too slow but now it was time to bike. I had no crazy aspirations of blowing the bike course away or riding as hard as I could. Lately, the focus has been on staying in control so that I actually have the tiniest chance of having a good run. Normally this would mean me holding back on the bike to the point where it was almost painful not to be pushing harder, but my legs were not cooperating and for some reason I just didn't feel that great, so staying "in control" in this case kind of meant pushing as hard as I could under the circumstances. But with zero goals going in, I just took it for what it was, did what I could and ate and drank like I was supposed to while being occasionally annoyed when little groups of 2-3 guys from the waves behind would blow by, quite obviously working together in their little draft packs. There wasn't a ton of that, but it's just annoying that you can't do a race without seeing it.
I tried to pick it up in the last ten miles which was good and finished in a decent time, though probably about ten minutes slower than I've done on my best years there. Given the circumstances I'm all right with that. But, then it was time to run. Do you know what it's like to get off a bike in a triathlon, put on your run shoes and just expect imminent disaster? I do. It's like waiting for the time bomb to go off, but you can't see the timer. You don't know when it's going to blow, but you know it will at some point. Of course this wasn't always the case, but I've gotten quite used to this feeling in the recent past. It's almost disappointing when it only takes me thirty seconds to put on my run shoes and take off my helmet, sort of like, wait, now I really have to go try and run? Crap. But off I went.
Amazingly, I didn't feel too bad as I set off on the run course. I held my head up high and tried to at least look like I knew what I was doing. I changed my watch so I could only see the heart rate and had been instructed to keep it stimulated, basically anything higher than what it was on the bike, and I was at least succeeding at that, doing my best not to look every mile when it beeped and would show me how slowly I had just run that one. My tendency over the past few races is to hit that, "Oh, crap, this is going to be really rough," feeling sometime within the first mile and a half. I'd already be thinking about walking aid stations... and pretending those aid stations went on for at least a quarter-mile, or risk not being able to "run" at all.
Somehow, the feeling didn't creep in. I ran through the first aid station thinking, maybe I'll walk the next one. But then I still felt okay at the next one, maybe just thanks to some snow they were handing out, so I ran through that one, too. Well, then there's this nice, big downhill so that's easy to run down, and then you're almost to the first turn around to come back and hey, this isn't so bad. Maybe I'll walk up that really big hill I ran down, but, well, I don't feel that bad so I'll run slowly up. This sort of thing continued and before I knew it, I had run the entire first loop.
Okay, this may not sound like a big deal to anyone, running a whole six-and-a-half miles or so, especially for someone who used to have zero issue with that sort of thing and blow through it at a pace I currently probably couldn't run a 5K race in. But based on recent memories, this was by far the best I've felt on one of these in a long, long time. To venture a guess, I'd say the last time I felt any better for a half was Mooseman in 2009. But I still started that second lap expecting to fail. A good first loop had built up the confidence a little, but not enough to completely erase the nagging doubt and the expectation that eventually I'd fall apart.
Regardless, of course I didn't feel as good heading out on the second loop, but I was still running and only slightly discouraged that my Garmin seemed to be telling me I'd hit another mile about three tenths before I'd see that mile sign on the road. I think it was around mile 8 when I finally decided to walk one of the aid stations, but I didn't feel the same sort of thing where I wasn't sure if I'd be able to run much anytime soon or I wished the aid station went on another half-mile so I'd have some sort of excuse. It was just like, ok, walk a little, hydrate some and... well, I guess I'm fine to just keep going again.
I won't say I felt fantastic the entire time, but that feeling of totally falling apart that I'd been fearing all day never seemed to materialize. Three weeks ago I did a half where that feeling arrived within the first three miles, so this was definitely a surprise. I actually think I got a bit too cautious with the aid station walking and the walking the last big hill because after mile twelve I decided I still felt pretty good and could pick up the pace, so I did. That has literally never happened before, even when I was running really well. I might say, hey, let's pick it up to the finish, but even if I felt like I was running harder, it wasn't really any faster. Well, not the case on Sunday. So in truth, I probably should've run a bit harder from the beginning.
I got 13.4 miles on my Garmin and crossed the finish line feeling pretty good. Astonishingly, I only lost two places in my age group on the run. Sure, the run was far from a good time, but I think I can finally take it for what it was, a step in the right direction in the name of progress based on where I'm headed and not compared to times in the past when I've run nearly thirty minutes faster or whatever. It went well based on where I am right now, and that's what I need to keep in mind, so I was very happy with the outcome.
I saw a couple of people I knew afterward but eventually it became apparent that there wasn't much reason to stick around, so it was probably the earliest I've ever gone home after that race, but I didn't really feel like sitting around by myself for at least another two hours waiting for awards or whatever. So that was my weekend. Timberman is always a bit bittersweet because I know the end of summer is coming. The weather has been absolutely incredible so it's going to be sad to see it go. But I did get home in plenty of time to watch some people finish their first Ironman in incredible times and I'm happy to be able to say I can be there to coach someone through their first experience there.
I'm still sore and sunburned but there were no blisters and now I've got Vermont QT2 camp this coming weekend. Then there will be a sprint race Labor Day weekend, a couple of weeks later a training camp in Tempe, then a race in Orange County, a trip to Hawaii and finally an Ironman in Arizona. It's going to be a busy couple of months but I can say that the big step in the right direction this past weekend has given me a much better outlook as far as how it's all going to go.
It's crazy to me to think that it was ten years ago I did this race for the first time, as my first half and second triathlon ever. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. My training consisted of, "I'll just swim, bike and run sometimes," my bike was my dad's old road bike with no aero bars and which I even wore bike gloves and socks to ride, I took a camelback on the bike because I didn't understand bottle hand-ups, and my race nutrition included, among other things, Wheaties for breakfast (how can you go wrong, right) a banana, a little bag of gummi bears (sort of like those Gu chews, right?) and a Rice Krispie treat. I remember thinking I was very clever about all of that. I have no recollection of where I got those ideas from, I probably read some random stuff on the internet.
I know I signed up two months before when I discovered there was a half in New Hampshire and thought, why not? Uh, why not? Maybe because you have no idea what you're doing? And it's not like the concept of online coaching was so wide spread back then. Not that I could've afforded it. At the time they still allowed you to sign up for a first-timers wave, which went off last. The sprint was also held on the same day, so I came out of the water with mostly people from the sprint because me, the terrible swimmer with a terrible sense of direction on a swim course (had to be redirected toward the finish by a kayak) and without a wetsuit, took about 45 minutes to complete the course. Once I had biked past the sprint turnaround, I felt like I was on a training ride all by myself. Definitely not like the course is now.
The bike went pretty well and upon my return I'm sure that people were finishing the race as I headed out on the run. Did I mention it was about 96 degrees that day? The gummi bears cannot save you when it's that hot out. I'm sure I ate all sorts of random crap from aid stations like cookies and chips and pretzels, in the hopes that things would get better. I still spent most of the run wanting to curl up in the shade under a tree and take a nap, but I kept going. Somewhere around mile 9 I remember hearing a car honking on the road going the other way and discovered through the haze of late-race confusion that it was my cousin and her boyfriend (now-husband) who had already completed the race and was going home. That was not encouraging.
I remember reaching the finish line and thinking that was by far the most difficult thing I had ever done but at the same time was already wondering how I was going to do better next time. After a dip in the lake where I swear I heard my skin sizzle, I took a look in the food tent that was devoid of pizza and left with mostly a few abandoned bagel halves and some empty jars of peanut butter and instead my parents took me out for ice cream. I think that brownie sundae at Sawyer's still sticks out in my mind as top five ice cream experiences.
You know, that stupid race probably ruined my career in the film industry? Two weeks later I moved to Los Angeles and at the age of 23 I had what I thought was going to be my dream job, working on movie sets. Not that it's super glamorous to be a production assistant, whose jobs included things like standing in the background of a scene making sure nobody walked through while they were shooting, writing down when the gaffers went to lunch, supplying wetsuits to the production staff for the water scenes, watching crap get blown up or trying to stay out of the way of the cattle they are trying to get to stampede through the fake South American town re-created north of LA (tip you may never need in life: cattle really don't want to stampede, even with ranchers chasing them on horses with whips while yelling, "Yee-haw!") or getting blueberries and yogurt for "The Rock" for his breakfast.
The point is, I had become hooked on the whole, stupid triathlon thing and working sixteen hours a day was vastly cutting into my training time. I'd run during the week and go ride the Pacific Coast Highway on the weekends, but I didn't want my life to be all about work, so I eventually left. Timberman was my favorite race for a long time and is probably mostly responsible for my falling in love with the sport. I did it seven years in a row, and the last time I completed the whole course was in 2008, when I hit what was at the time my lowest point in triathlon. It is I think the only time I have cried on the course.
Okay, that was a long enough tangent, so why don't we talk about this year? I was not excited about the race. I wasn't not excited, either, as in I wasn't sitting around thinking that I didn't want to race at all, I just wasn't thinking much about it. For starters, I had three people I coach racing Ironman Mont Tremblant. Two were going for their first Ironman and the third has completed a few but had suffered from DNFs lately due to nutritional issues. I'll just skip to the end there and tell you that they all had great races, one got a Kona slot on his first try, and I got to watch them finish online.
The other strange thing was that I was alone before the race. That was usually the case in the beginning, but Timberman had become a big event with some of my friends and we'd all race and yet for some reason this year there was just hardly anyone I knew who raced. I was staying at my mom's on the lake, but since one of my cousins was visiting at my grandmother's from out of town, there was nobody at the house. All that alone time and not training gave me a bit too much time to think and I had a bit of an emotional lead-up to the race based on things that had almost nothing to do with the race at all. Among other things I had remembered going out to dinner with my dad the night before the race, two weeks before he died. Or a couple of years before that when all of my friends stayed at the new house and the night before the race was the first night we ever had dinner on the big dining room table my parents were so excited to have found. So, Timberman has a lot of memories for me.
Anyway, enough about that and let's get on with the race and stuff, right? I went to bed nice and early and slept really well. My alarm went off at 4am as I had decided to leave nice and early to get a parking spot right at Ellacoya. My friends used to make fun of me for wanting to get there so early to get a parking spot since you could just take the shuttle from Gunstock, but let me tell you, having your car right there and not having to deal with that stupid shuttle plus getting your bike back to the car afterward is definitely worth it to me. You have to get up early that day anyway, right? Might as well get a good parking space.
I arrived just after 4:30 and had gotten a bit of a head start on my breakfast on the drive over. It's at times like these that it's a good thing applesauce is basically drinkable. Ugh. Of course in the dark I felt as though I'd gotten most of it down, only to park the car and realize I still had at least half to go. The other nice thing about early arrivals is the clean porta-potties with no lines. Fortunately I had also remembered that in the middle of August it's kind of dark that early in the morning so I remembered my head lamp. It was also pretty darn chilly.
I got my transition set up at #890 (the first time I did this race I was #892 - so close!) and then actually went and hung out at my car since there was nothing better to do and in a strange twist really nobody I knew around to talk to. I had run into my friend Lauren a couple of bikes down from mine, but that was it for the morning until I finally lined up with my swim wave and saw a couple of other people. I finally put on my wetsuit, then had to take it off for one more bathroom stop, and then it was time to eat my gel and get in the water.
I was still not excited, but not dreading it. It was just like, a process I had to follow. I lined up toward the front and told myself I was going to have a good swim. I have always been notoriously slower than normal on that swim. Not quite the 45 minutes of that first year, but always about two minutes slower than I felt I should've gone. I had nothing to lose, so I decided to go in with the mentality that things would go well. It was a bit crowded to start but I was on the inside and stayed there and followed the course easily. It got a bit rough at times with some boat wakes, but not as bad as prior years. And there was one spot about halfway through where it seemed every wave in front of me had bunched up to collide into one massive human obstacle course, so things got a bit slow there, and then again on the way in when I tried to follow the feet of someone who seemed insistent of going off course, but then I could see the exit arch in the distance and had no trouble following a straight line in to the finish.
I exited the water in just over 33 minutes, which again, for me on that particular course, I was very happy with. I think that's the fastest I've done that one and at 5th in my age group out of the water, definitely not a normal spot for me. So in spite of the ups and downs of the past couple of years, my swim of all things has actually improved some, so I was glad to see the day begin on a good note.
Transition was way too slow but now it was time to bike. I had no crazy aspirations of blowing the bike course away or riding as hard as I could. Lately, the focus has been on staying in control so that I actually have the tiniest chance of having a good run. Normally this would mean me holding back on the bike to the point where it was almost painful not to be pushing harder, but my legs were not cooperating and for some reason I just didn't feel that great, so staying "in control" in this case kind of meant pushing as hard as I could under the circumstances. But with zero goals going in, I just took it for what it was, did what I could and ate and drank like I was supposed to while being occasionally annoyed when little groups of 2-3 guys from the waves behind would blow by, quite obviously working together in their little draft packs. There wasn't a ton of that, but it's just annoying that you can't do a race without seeing it.
I tried to pick it up in the last ten miles which was good and finished in a decent time, though probably about ten minutes slower than I've done on my best years there. Given the circumstances I'm all right with that. But, then it was time to run. Do you know what it's like to get off a bike in a triathlon, put on your run shoes and just expect imminent disaster? I do. It's like waiting for the time bomb to go off, but you can't see the timer. You don't know when it's going to blow, but you know it will at some point. Of course this wasn't always the case, but I've gotten quite used to this feeling in the recent past. It's almost disappointing when it only takes me thirty seconds to put on my run shoes and take off my helmet, sort of like, wait, now I really have to go try and run? Crap. But off I went.
Amazingly, I didn't feel too bad as I set off on the run course. I held my head up high and tried to at least look like I knew what I was doing. I changed my watch so I could only see the heart rate and had been instructed to keep it stimulated, basically anything higher than what it was on the bike, and I was at least succeeding at that, doing my best not to look every mile when it beeped and would show me how slowly I had just run that one. My tendency over the past few races is to hit that, "Oh, crap, this is going to be really rough," feeling sometime within the first mile and a half. I'd already be thinking about walking aid stations... and pretending those aid stations went on for at least a quarter-mile, or risk not being able to "run" at all.
Somehow, the feeling didn't creep in. I ran through the first aid station thinking, maybe I'll walk the next one. But then I still felt okay at the next one, maybe just thanks to some snow they were handing out, so I ran through that one, too. Well, then there's this nice, big downhill so that's easy to run down, and then you're almost to the first turn around to come back and hey, this isn't so bad. Maybe I'll walk up that really big hill I ran down, but, well, I don't feel that bad so I'll run slowly up. This sort of thing continued and before I knew it, I had run the entire first loop.
Okay, this may not sound like a big deal to anyone, running a whole six-and-a-half miles or so, especially for someone who used to have zero issue with that sort of thing and blow through it at a pace I currently probably couldn't run a 5K race in. But based on recent memories, this was by far the best I've felt on one of these in a long, long time. To venture a guess, I'd say the last time I felt any better for a half was Mooseman in 2009. But I still started that second lap expecting to fail. A good first loop had built up the confidence a little, but not enough to completely erase the nagging doubt and the expectation that eventually I'd fall apart.
Regardless, of course I didn't feel as good heading out on the second loop, but I was still running and only slightly discouraged that my Garmin seemed to be telling me I'd hit another mile about three tenths before I'd see that mile sign on the road. I think it was around mile 8 when I finally decided to walk one of the aid stations, but I didn't feel the same sort of thing where I wasn't sure if I'd be able to run much anytime soon or I wished the aid station went on another half-mile so I'd have some sort of excuse. It was just like, ok, walk a little, hydrate some and... well, I guess I'm fine to just keep going again.
I won't say I felt fantastic the entire time, but that feeling of totally falling apart that I'd been fearing all day never seemed to materialize. Three weeks ago I did a half where that feeling arrived within the first three miles, so this was definitely a surprise. I actually think I got a bit too cautious with the aid station walking and the walking the last big hill because after mile twelve I decided I still felt pretty good and could pick up the pace, so I did. That has literally never happened before, even when I was running really well. I might say, hey, let's pick it up to the finish, but even if I felt like I was running harder, it wasn't really any faster. Well, not the case on Sunday. So in truth, I probably should've run a bit harder from the beginning.
I got 13.4 miles on my Garmin and crossed the finish line feeling pretty good. Astonishingly, I only lost two places in my age group on the run. Sure, the run was far from a good time, but I think I can finally take it for what it was, a step in the right direction in the name of progress based on where I'm headed and not compared to times in the past when I've run nearly thirty minutes faster or whatever. It went well based on where I am right now, and that's what I need to keep in mind, so I was very happy with the outcome.
I saw a couple of people I knew afterward but eventually it became apparent that there wasn't much reason to stick around, so it was probably the earliest I've ever gone home after that race, but I didn't really feel like sitting around by myself for at least another two hours waiting for awards or whatever. So that was my weekend. Timberman is always a bit bittersweet because I know the end of summer is coming. The weather has been absolutely incredible so it's going to be sad to see it go. But I did get home in plenty of time to watch some people finish their first Ironman in incredible times and I'm happy to be able to say I can be there to coach someone through their first experience there.
I'm still sore and sunburned but there were no blisters and now I've got Vermont QT2 camp this coming weekend. Then there will be a sprint race Labor Day weekend, a couple of weeks later a training camp in Tempe, then a race in Orange County, a trip to Hawaii and finally an Ironman in Arizona. It's going to be a busy couple of months but I can say that the big step in the right direction this past weekend has given me a much better outlook as far as how it's all going to go.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Yeah, Olympics!
I really enjoy watching inspirational things on TV. I enjoy inspirational books as well, but right now I'm just overwhelmed with inspiration by watching constant coverage of the Olympics. I swear, there is a real shortage of inspiring television these days. For some reason it has become much more likely for us to "celebrate" idiots like people on Jersey Shore or Real Housewives. I really don't understand why everyone is so fascinated by watching people who do virtually nothing with their lives aside from basking in their moronic past times. Too harsh? Sorry, sometimes I get a bit worked up that reality show stars are filthy rich just because they agree to share their idiotic lives on TV. I mean, didn't Snooki even "write" a book? Who are these people who care in the slightest what she has to say? To be fair, most of my Snooki knowledge comes from the guy who plays her on Saturday Night Live, but I'm guessing based on that I know everything I need to know.
Anyway, that got a bit off track. The point is that it's awesome to just have days on end of amazing athletic accomplishments available pretty much whenever we want it. I've been watching a lot of swimming of course, as though hoping I can somehow absorb their fish-like abilities through some form of osmosis. Based on recent workouts, it hasn't worked as of yet. It's especially frustrating when watching the distance events. I swear some of the people in the 1500 kick as little as I do while looking like they're barely working hard and I still probably wouldn't be able to beat them if I tried to swim half the distance in the same time. And it's not like I'm the worst swimmer ever, they're just inhumanly fast.
Another fun race today was the women's 10,000 meters on the track. The woman who won took off on the last lap like she'd hardly been running the previous 24. 62 seconds. Again, I couldn't run 50 meters at that pace. I've seen a decent amount of water polo, both men and women. I think from a swimming standpoint I might be decent at it, but not so much on the trying-to-drown-each-other-under-water side of things. Perhaps this is the kind of training we all need for triathlon mass swim starts.
Did anyone get to watch white water kayaking? They actually built rapids for the games. My question becomes, what do they do with that course once the Olympics are over? I somehow doubt there will be a line of people waiting to take their kayaks down for fun. But then again, they might do things differently in England.
And who doesn't love a good badminton scandal? But seriously, if it is to anyone's advantage to lose matches on purpose in order to gain better placing later on, then I think that the system is flawed and it needs to be set up in a way that ensures that they will always want to win.
Handball is kind of weird and I don't quite get it.
A woman on the US volleyball team is named Destiny Hooker. That seems kind of unfortunate but at the same time she has obviously risen above it given the fact that she is an Olympic athlete.
Speaking of indoor volleyball, why does one player on each team wear a different colored jersey?
In spite of the fact that I did not absorb any swim skills by watching swimming, I'm still sort of hoping for the same when I watch the track events.
That's all for now. But it's just a lot of fun to be able to watch so many inspiring athletes and it's sort of incredible how many different sports there are and how many different things you can specialize in. I'll try and remember to be inspired on my long ride tomorrow.
Anyway, that got a bit off track. The point is that it's awesome to just have days on end of amazing athletic accomplishments available pretty much whenever we want it. I've been watching a lot of swimming of course, as though hoping I can somehow absorb their fish-like abilities through some form of osmosis. Based on recent workouts, it hasn't worked as of yet. It's especially frustrating when watching the distance events. I swear some of the people in the 1500 kick as little as I do while looking like they're barely working hard and I still probably wouldn't be able to beat them if I tried to swim half the distance in the same time. And it's not like I'm the worst swimmer ever, they're just inhumanly fast.
Another fun race today was the women's 10,000 meters on the track. The woman who won took off on the last lap like she'd hardly been running the previous 24. 62 seconds. Again, I couldn't run 50 meters at that pace. I've seen a decent amount of water polo, both men and women. I think from a swimming standpoint I might be decent at it, but not so much on the trying-to-drown-each-other-under-water side of things. Perhaps this is the kind of training we all need for triathlon mass swim starts.
Did anyone get to watch white water kayaking? They actually built rapids for the games. My question becomes, what do they do with that course once the Olympics are over? I somehow doubt there will be a line of people waiting to take their kayaks down for fun. But then again, they might do things differently in England.
And who doesn't love a good badminton scandal? But seriously, if it is to anyone's advantage to lose matches on purpose in order to gain better placing later on, then I think that the system is flawed and it needs to be set up in a way that ensures that they will always want to win.
Handball is kind of weird and I don't quite get it.
A woman on the US volleyball team is named Destiny Hooker. That seems kind of unfortunate but at the same time she has obviously risen above it given the fact that she is an Olympic athlete.
Speaking of indoor volleyball, why does one player on each team wear a different colored jersey?
In spite of the fact that I did not absorb any swim skills by watching swimming, I'm still sort of hoping for the same when I watch the track events.
That's all for now. But it's just a lot of fun to be able to watch so many inspiring athletes and it's sort of incredible how many different sports there are and how many different things you can specialize in. I'll try and remember to be inspired on my long ride tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Never Anonymous
Once upon a time I could show up at a race, do my thing, and go home without anyone ever giving me a second thought. I was just another name on the results, buried somewhere between the middle and the bottom; nothing spectacular, nothing notable. Well, maybe I'd come in top five in my age group... which is easy to do when you are 20-24 and there are only somewhere between four and six people in it in the first place. I remember going to races and not knowing a single soul except maybe my parents who had come to support me from the sidelines, camera around one of their necks like it was the first day of school or something.
This past weekend I participated in a little local race. Sometimes when I do these races I think to myself that it would be fantastic to do only these kinds of races from now on. They're way cheaper, there are so few people racing that parking is a breeze and you don't have to arrive three hours before it starts, there are only eight porta-potties and yet still no lines. In fact, this is probably the first time I've gone into a porta-potty before a triathlon and been the first one to use it. I didn't realize it was possible for them not to smell terrible. The course isn't crowded and you don't have to worry about drowning on the swim due to hundreds of other people you're swimming with and you don't have to give a second thought about avoiding drafting, because people are just naturally very spread out.
I'd never done a race where they took roll call before you got in the water to start your swim. There were maybe ninety people racing but we were still separated into I believe four waves. It was so strange to look around at the other competitors before the race and realize that I knew nobody. Sure, that was normal when I first started racing, but especially to be racing local, I don't think I've done a race where I knew nobody since I raced in the middle of nowhere in Arizona. And at least in that case it made sense to know nobody. I feel as though I should know all of the triathletes in New Hampshire, but apparently I do not.
Somehow swimming has become my best event. This has less to do with my having gotten a lot better at swimming than the fact that I've gotten so much worse at biking and running. Either way, I feel pretty good in the water, and after starting in a little pack and following some feet for a few minutes and a couple of swim buoys, I decided they were not moving fast enough for me and broke away, spending the remainder of the swim alone, with the exception of passing a few people from the wave in front of me. After swimming two loops I spent the run up to transition feeling as though I was going to projectile vomit. I felt fine during the swim, not sure where it came from, but I had to seriously slow down or risk an explosion of epic proportions.
Fortunately, the feeling subsided rather quickly once I was on the bike. The approach for the race was to try and execute it well from a heart rate standpoint. I am absolutely notorious for going too hard on the bike and faltering on the run. Of course in my head I am convinced I can bike but not run, so why not push my best discipline since I know there is no way the run is going to save me? This is the wrong attitude to have, by the way, but it's hard not to have that constantly running through my head. But this time, instead I spent especially the first half of the ride keeping my heart rate down and thinking to myself I had to keep it in a place where I was sure I could maintain a higher heart rate on the run.
This resulted in many, many people passing me. I'm more used to not being passed by anyone on the bike, but that was not going to happen this time. The course was fairly tough and hilly and I was just trying to be in control rather than "race" so that's what I did. It's also funny to do a race so small that each aid station has precisely two volunteers. And that was really all they needed. Sadly, the on-course drink was HEED. Okay, seriously, is there anyone out there that actually likes this stuff? I don't know the science behind it, so maybe it is the perfect electrolyte drink, but it tastes like what I'd suspect the sweat I might ring out of my socks after a race would taste like.
Anyway, the hills kept coming and I kept on not going very fast, but that's not really what I was thinking about. I was thinking about just going for a ride and keeping my heart rate in the right place. This resulted in my slowest half ironman bike in a while... wait, maybe not that long since Mooseman last year was a disaster, but still not a great one. As I ran my bike into transition I heard a few people say my name and looked around to recognize nobody. This wasn't a names-on-your-numbers kind of race, so I have no idea how they knew who I was or if I knew them.
Off on the run, and, amazingly, my heart rate went where I needed it to go. I felt like I was running way too easy for it to be so high, but I also figured there was no way I was going to be running that half marathon anywhere near fast, so I just went with it, only keeping an eye on the heart rate number and nothing else. The run course was actually really nice. A main road for a bit but then we went on some rolling dirt roads and saw hardly any cars. We even wound up on a trail for a bit.
Somewhere in the two-three mile range someone ran by me and asked, "Are you Molly?" Now, this sort of thing has happened to me a lot over the last several years. As you can probably guess it is mostly because of the whole thing in Lake Placid 2006. Of course, time keeps passing and the realization that that was six years ago is astonishing to me. At the same time, I've fallen so off the radar since then that I just assume that people have completely forgotten. Was that really that big of a deal anymore? But apparently people haven't forgotten about it.
I ran with her for a bit and she told me she's been following me since that race. She also very kindly told me that she was sorry to hear about my father. I actually thought about him quite a bit that day. The only other time in my life I'd taken the road I took to get to that race was when we were driving back and forth to the hospital he died at. She also told me I was an inspiration. This is not the first time I've been told such things by random strangers on the race course, although it's been a while. It's definitely a bit strange to me especially since I haven't been incredibly inspirational as of late, but I won't lie and say it's not nice to hear. The only thing now is that I have to remember that sort of thing and actually earn the right to be inspirational. I think it's too late to ever get to do races anymore where nobody knows who I am, so I'm just going to have to get back to living up to my reputation.
She took off and the run continued while I wasn't thinking about much aside from continuing to move forward. The aid stations were sort of weirdly placed at random intervals, and the only bad thing I'd say about this race is that there were close to three miles after halfway in which there were no aid stations at all. This is where I sort of started to lose it a bit. I was thirsty! And at one point I considered swimming across the lake back to the finish line, but I kept going instead, getting passed by plenty of people along the way. I paid no attention to my time, I just wanted to survive to the finish. I really miss actually racing these things, but I'm not really in a position to do that right now.
The good news was that somehow I escaped the race with no blisters and once again, thanks to the awesome Pearl Izumi tri outfit, no chaffing. Seriously, have you ever done an Ironman and not had even a hint of chaffing? I have. Get yourself outfitted in their stuff. I crossed the little finish line and wasted no time walking back to the water to get in. It was an overcast day for the most part, but at times it felt pretty toasty on the run.
After that I had my Endurox and then sat at a picnic table with some random people. I heard behind me, "Aren't you the one who won Lake Placid in 2006?" Yep, that would be me. Again, the anonymity is definitely gone even if it still surprises me. I did win my age group, which was mostly due to the fact that once you took out the top three overall, there were only three people left in the race in my age group. But I did get another shiny medal to add to the collection. Then it was time to head back to the lake house where I pretty quickly got cleaned up and headed over to Wolfeboro to hang out with my friends there who had participated in the Chunky Dunk Duathlon. It was a half-mile swim and a 5K run. I kept thinking that I probably should've raced there instead!
So, another little race done and another reminder that I do need to get back what I had before. It's in there somewhere. I seriously feel like I'm typing into thin air when I write these blogs so it's always a surprise to me when someone tells me they actually read it. I mean, I know that's sort of the point, but that doesn't make it less surprising. I plan on spending the next few months totally transforming myself back into the athlete who can really race these races, so hopefully it will be more interesting to follow.
This past weekend I participated in a little local race. Sometimes when I do these races I think to myself that it would be fantastic to do only these kinds of races from now on. They're way cheaper, there are so few people racing that parking is a breeze and you don't have to arrive three hours before it starts, there are only eight porta-potties and yet still no lines. In fact, this is probably the first time I've gone into a porta-potty before a triathlon and been the first one to use it. I didn't realize it was possible for them not to smell terrible. The course isn't crowded and you don't have to worry about drowning on the swim due to hundreds of other people you're swimming with and you don't have to give a second thought about avoiding drafting, because people are just naturally very spread out.
I'd never done a race where they took roll call before you got in the water to start your swim. There were maybe ninety people racing but we were still separated into I believe four waves. It was so strange to look around at the other competitors before the race and realize that I knew nobody. Sure, that was normal when I first started racing, but especially to be racing local, I don't think I've done a race where I knew nobody since I raced in the middle of nowhere in Arizona. And at least in that case it made sense to know nobody. I feel as though I should know all of the triathletes in New Hampshire, but apparently I do not.
Somehow swimming has become my best event. This has less to do with my having gotten a lot better at swimming than the fact that I've gotten so much worse at biking and running. Either way, I feel pretty good in the water, and after starting in a little pack and following some feet for a few minutes and a couple of swim buoys, I decided they were not moving fast enough for me and broke away, spending the remainder of the swim alone, with the exception of passing a few people from the wave in front of me. After swimming two loops I spent the run up to transition feeling as though I was going to projectile vomit. I felt fine during the swim, not sure where it came from, but I had to seriously slow down or risk an explosion of epic proportions.
Fortunately, the feeling subsided rather quickly once I was on the bike. The approach for the race was to try and execute it well from a heart rate standpoint. I am absolutely notorious for going too hard on the bike and faltering on the run. Of course in my head I am convinced I can bike but not run, so why not push my best discipline since I know there is no way the run is going to save me? This is the wrong attitude to have, by the way, but it's hard not to have that constantly running through my head. But this time, instead I spent especially the first half of the ride keeping my heart rate down and thinking to myself I had to keep it in a place where I was sure I could maintain a higher heart rate on the run.
This resulted in many, many people passing me. I'm more used to not being passed by anyone on the bike, but that was not going to happen this time. The course was fairly tough and hilly and I was just trying to be in control rather than "race" so that's what I did. It's also funny to do a race so small that each aid station has precisely two volunteers. And that was really all they needed. Sadly, the on-course drink was HEED. Okay, seriously, is there anyone out there that actually likes this stuff? I don't know the science behind it, so maybe it is the perfect electrolyte drink, but it tastes like what I'd suspect the sweat I might ring out of my socks after a race would taste like.
Anyway, the hills kept coming and I kept on not going very fast, but that's not really what I was thinking about. I was thinking about just going for a ride and keeping my heart rate in the right place. This resulted in my slowest half ironman bike in a while... wait, maybe not that long since Mooseman last year was a disaster, but still not a great one. As I ran my bike into transition I heard a few people say my name and looked around to recognize nobody. This wasn't a names-on-your-numbers kind of race, so I have no idea how they knew who I was or if I knew them.
Off on the run, and, amazingly, my heart rate went where I needed it to go. I felt like I was running way too easy for it to be so high, but I also figured there was no way I was going to be running that half marathon anywhere near fast, so I just went with it, only keeping an eye on the heart rate number and nothing else. The run course was actually really nice. A main road for a bit but then we went on some rolling dirt roads and saw hardly any cars. We even wound up on a trail for a bit.
Somewhere in the two-three mile range someone ran by me and asked, "Are you Molly?" Now, this sort of thing has happened to me a lot over the last several years. As you can probably guess it is mostly because of the whole thing in Lake Placid 2006. Of course, time keeps passing and the realization that that was six years ago is astonishing to me. At the same time, I've fallen so off the radar since then that I just assume that people have completely forgotten. Was that really that big of a deal anymore? But apparently people haven't forgotten about it.
I ran with her for a bit and she told me she's been following me since that race. She also very kindly told me that she was sorry to hear about my father. I actually thought about him quite a bit that day. The only other time in my life I'd taken the road I took to get to that race was when we were driving back and forth to the hospital he died at. She also told me I was an inspiration. This is not the first time I've been told such things by random strangers on the race course, although it's been a while. It's definitely a bit strange to me especially since I haven't been incredibly inspirational as of late, but I won't lie and say it's not nice to hear. The only thing now is that I have to remember that sort of thing and actually earn the right to be inspirational. I think it's too late to ever get to do races anymore where nobody knows who I am, so I'm just going to have to get back to living up to my reputation.
She took off and the run continued while I wasn't thinking about much aside from continuing to move forward. The aid stations were sort of weirdly placed at random intervals, and the only bad thing I'd say about this race is that there were close to three miles after halfway in which there were no aid stations at all. This is where I sort of started to lose it a bit. I was thirsty! And at one point I considered swimming across the lake back to the finish line, but I kept going instead, getting passed by plenty of people along the way. I paid no attention to my time, I just wanted to survive to the finish. I really miss actually racing these things, but I'm not really in a position to do that right now.
The good news was that somehow I escaped the race with no blisters and once again, thanks to the awesome Pearl Izumi tri outfit, no chaffing. Seriously, have you ever done an Ironman and not had even a hint of chaffing? I have. Get yourself outfitted in their stuff. I crossed the little finish line and wasted no time walking back to the water to get in. It was an overcast day for the most part, but at times it felt pretty toasty on the run.
After that I had my Endurox and then sat at a picnic table with some random people. I heard behind me, "Aren't you the one who won Lake Placid in 2006?" Yep, that would be me. Again, the anonymity is definitely gone even if it still surprises me. I did win my age group, which was mostly due to the fact that once you took out the top three overall, there were only three people left in the race in my age group. But I did get another shiny medal to add to the collection. Then it was time to head back to the lake house where I pretty quickly got cleaned up and headed over to Wolfeboro to hang out with my friends there who had participated in the Chunky Dunk Duathlon. It was a half-mile swim and a 5K run. I kept thinking that I probably should've raced there instead!
So, another little race done and another reminder that I do need to get back what I had before. It's in there somewhere. I seriously feel like I'm typing into thin air when I write these blogs so it's always a surprise to me when someone tells me they actually read it. I mean, I know that's sort of the point, but that doesn't make it less surprising. I plan on spending the next few months totally transforming myself back into the athlete who can really race these races, so hopefully it will be more interesting to follow.
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