tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67172358054885043192024-02-22T10:12:30.526-08:00Molly's BlogUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger267125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-2225129730637729592015-04-29T10:13:00.002-07:002015-04-29T10:13:28.420-07:00Ironman South Africa Race ReportIs a blog still a blog when it is only updated every 3-4 months? Probably not, but I'll write this out anyway, because it was a pretty interesting trip and even if nobody else reads it, I'll want to. <br />
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Where to even begin. Well, the training for this race was challenging, to say the least. I had decided this winter to tough it out and not go south at all, with the exception of a week in Florida in mid-January for a race - a HITS half in Naples that went very well and I quite enjoyed - and this particular winter, if you hadn't already heard, was brutal, to say the least. I've lived here for a long time and usually we get brief reprieves from snow and cold, random days where it is a little warmer and the sun comes out and some of the snow melts. But nope, not this time. It just kept on coming, and stayed bitterly cold. My car developed a speed wobble that I discovered was simply because weeks' worth of snow had packed itself into the inside rim of the wheel. Normally that would melt here and there, but nope, not this year. Coldest February on record. It also snowed every single Saturday night. I thought that particular month would never end.<br />
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But, training had to be done. Somehow in spite of the insanity I only had to move one swim workout (thanks to my gym for only closing that one time due to all of the snow) and due to an awesome foot injury that kept me from running for a couple of weeks I never had to move any run workouts either. In a way though it was sort of nice to actually have something productive to do in spite of all of the snow. And a reason to leave the house. Half the time it was like, "Do I really want to go outside when it's snowing and the wind chill is below zero? Eh, not really." That particular scenario was pretty common. I spent way too much time in the basement on the trainer watching almost every single episode of The Office.<br />
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It always seems more difficult to tell if you are actually getting fitter in the winter. You spend so much time indoors and training alone, and when you venture out to run half the time you're worried about slipping on ice and snow and not even thinking that much about pace and heart rate, and you're layered up in warm clothes. But in spite of that, it did appear that I was more ready for this race than I'd been for any in probably nearly three years. The training had gone flawlessly until my foot decided to stop cooperating in the middle of February, so some things had to be modified for about the final 5 weeks but I did what I could there. <br />
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So enough about that, a week before the race I flew over to South Africa. I left home at 7:30am on Sunday morning and arrived at the hotel in Port Elizabeth at I think 11pm there, or 5pm back home. That is a lot of traveling. Somehow it never actually feels quite as long as it really is, surprisingly. But to say we were exhausted would be an understatement.<br />
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This was my first time traveling to a race in a different country and in fact only my second time leaving the country at all, the last time being Ireland in 1999, when I would've laughed in your face if you'd suggested I do a triathlon. I honestly had almost no idea what to expect, but fortunately South Africa is pretty westernized and everyone spoke English. They drive on the left, their food is way cheaper, there's a lot of cricket and rugby on TV and they seem to have something against maple syrup, but still. There were plenty of American shows and movies on TV and there were Kardashians on the magazine covers. So, see? They haven't only ruined our country, but others as well. <br />
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I slept fairly well the night before the race. All week we'd just been so tired and thrown off by being off 6 time zones in the bad direction, so any opportunities for sleep were usually good ones. I was even kind of hungry for my breakfast, which never happens on race morning. Walked down at about 5:30 in the dark and got everything ready to go. This race actually had more than one age group wave. The pro men went off first, then the pro women, then the first wave of age group men at 6:45 and then the rest of the men plus all of the women at 7. This was I think my 18th Ironman start line, and in all of these races the only aspect that still sometimes gives me true pre-race anxiety is thinking about the swim start. I've been in some brutal ones. But the split start, even though there were still several hundred of us standing on the beach, still just took a lot of that away.<br />
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I can honestly say I don't think I've ever been this relaxed before an Ironman race. I had absolutely no pressure on myself. My foot issue training hiccup sort of took out any high expectations I may have had. The foot was tolerable, but I'd missed some really key training and had just kept things pretty easy in the final weeks I was running. I felt like I was in good shape otherwise though for everything else and had no concerns about having trouble getting through the race, barring of course unforeseen issues like mechanical problems, but it's a waste of energy to worry about those things.<br />
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It was a beach start, plenty of space, and I lined up right toward the front and as far to the left, which was where the buoys were, as I could get. The ocean had been in the upper 60s I believe which is chilly to start but really pretty perfect for swimming. When the cannon finally fired I walked purposefully toward the water rather than dashing in like a mad woman. It's a long, long day, there's really no reason to dart into the water, and there was plenty of room so no worries about fighting for space.<br />
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So, off we went. I don't remember getting hit very much when we were starting, there was a lot of space. A few waves but nothing terrible. The swim is one loop, swim out, 90-degree left turn and swim very far, then 90-degree turn, 90-degree turn, swim back and in. Let's just say that there weren't really enough buoys. And they were the same color. So sometimes you'd look up to find the next one and you might see one in the distance, but you weren't entirely sure if that was the next buoy you were supposed to be swimming for or if that would take you across to the opposite side of the swim course. It wasn't that bad on the way out, and I still had some swimmers around me. But once I turned to swim back in, I don't think I've ever felt so alone on an Ironman swim course before in my life. four or five times I stopped completely to just look around and try and figure out where I was, and sometimes I couldn't even see another swimmer. I could always see kayakers and support paddlers somewhere, but it was pretty unclear whether or not I was actually on the swim course anymore. I had thought that it would be a pain with the wave starting in front of us and I'd run into a wall of slow swimmers, but it really wasn't an issue. I passes some here and there, but everyone was so spread out.<br />
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It got really rough out there with the waves, and it was impossible to find a nice crest of a wave to look out and see the next buoy, because there were dozens of others between you and what you were looking for, obscuring the view. So, I just kept swimming in the general direction I thought I was supposed to go and figured that eventually I would be able to see better where I was supposed to go.<br />
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And of course I did eventually get on course and figure it out, especially once I was close enough to see the pier that marked the end of the course. I had absolutely no clue what my swim time was as I saw no clock and didn't wear a watch, and I was pretty shocked to see 1:07 when I fully expected that after probably swimming three miles it would be closer to 1:15 or 1:20, but whatever. For reasons never explained, for some reason we had to keep our swim caps on our heads until we got to the showers after a beach run, and we were not allowed to take off our wetsuits past our waist until we were actually inside the change tent. Why? I have no idea, just one of the nuances of international competition, I suppose. Transition was quick and painless and then it was time to bike.<br />
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Again, I was thoroughly relaxed. I also really had no major doubts about my bike fitness going into this race. That, plus the fact that I was leaner for this race than I'd been in a while, and there were lots of hills, left me feeling pretty good about how it would go. We had driven the course a few days prior so had some idea what to expect. There were plenty of hills and plenty of beautiful scenery. And monkeys. Definitely my first time doing a bike ride where I saw monkeys just kind of hanging out by the side of the road.<br />
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The ride starts out fairly urban on some wide city streets with plenty of civilization, like McDonalds and KFC. I saw more KFC restaurants in South Africa than I've seen anywhere in the US. I started out riding maybe a little harder than I should've, but I hate the beginning of these rides because there are so many more people around me, especially with a wave of men in front of us who'd had a 15-minute head start. I also started drinking a lot. It wasn't especially hot there, probably topped out maybe in the mid 70s, but clearly I had been training through ridiculous cold winter so some extra fluid wouldn't be a bad thing.<br />
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Eventually things got a lot more rural and the hills began. There were some long ones, and the downhills to compensate didn't help much because many of them had very sharp turns at the bottom that required going very, very slowly or launching off a cliff. I chose the first option. We also sort of alternated between riding on the right or riding on the left. I had been concerned about left-handed bottle swaps at aid stations, but they had those positioned really well, during very slow sections, so it wasn't a problem. And some of them were on the right anyway. The pavement was also quite often very, very rough. Which made it just a little bit more uncomfortable, but you don't have much choice there aside from just getting through it.<br />
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Another added challenge for the day was the wind. We had expected it anyway, but it certainly didn't help speed. But I knew going into this that it was going to be a challenging course, and it was going to be slower than normal, and all I could do was keep pedaling and deal with it. By the time the first loop ended I rode through town with no other people so I felt pretty good about how I was doing. I caught some more guys coming out of town but by about mile 70 I was fairly alone, which can be good and bad. Nice not to worry about other people, but it gets somewhat lonely out there. As much as I enjoy biking, it always gets to a point where it just becomes uncomfortable to be on the bike. My neck was hurting, my wrists were hurting from gripping the handlebars too tightly over all of that rough pavement, the balls of my feet were hurting from so much pedaling, I was just over it. And knowing that on a flatter course like Texas I would've been finished a whole lot sooner also didn't help. But, finally I finished the ride. My nutrition all went down smoothly, I drank 13 bottles of fluid, and I remained upright with no flats. <br />
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So, now time to run. Oh, always the wild card for me these days. I was a runner once, and maybe someday again if I can string together enough consistent months of it without injury or something else I will be again, but I'm definitely not there yet. So I knew this was just going to be about getting through it rather than racing it. Not that I wasn't basically going as fast as I could at the time, but it wasn't going to be fast. My legs also felt pretty wrecked from that brutal 112 miles, but once I get to the marathon I don't even care anymore really, I know I can walk if I have to in order to finish.<br />
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But, I didn't really have to walk much. One very different thing on this course as opposed to US courses was that the water was served not in cups but in sealed plastic bags you had to bite the corners off of. When they described this to us in the pre-race meeting it sounded like it was both stupid and annoying. But once I actually tried it out on the course it turned out it was actually way better than losing half a cup of water down your shirt like we do it back home. Bite a little bit off, and suck it all down, don't lose a drop. Also, if I did this one again I'd take one or two with me for later on longer stretches between aid stations. Because the first half of each of the three loops had plenty of aid stations, and the second half had closer to 2 miles between them. Or, way, way too long. It was like torture at that point.<br />
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Not a whole lot to say about the run. I just kept on moving forward, got passed by a whole lot of people, and kept trying to figure out a way to make my hands stop feeling all puffy and swollen. The on course drink was Gu, and I don't think there was enough salt in there so I was low. I kept eating bananas although I skipped the boiled potatoes they were also offering.<br />
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One other weird thing I experienced in this race that I've never experienced anywhere else, I was hungry on the run. Like, really, really hungry. Normally I'm forcing down nutrition and don't want anything, but at any given moment during that marathon if anyone had offered me a pizza, I would've gladly accepted. I don't think I've ever had an Ironman race where I stomached all of my race nutrition so well, either. Just absolutely no moments of race gut or cramping or feelings that I couldn't stand the thought of another gel. For whatever reason, that all went really smoothly.<br />
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I already explained the aid station situation, but the run course was really pretty flat which was nice. A few inclines here and there, that seemed more and more like mountains on each subsequent loop, but that was it. Crowd support was great, and the aid stations, when they weren't too far apart, were mostly pretty good. Although some seemed to be missing certain things, and one only had Red Bull for some reason. <br />
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For the first time in a couple of Ironman races, I was on the bike course longer than the run course, so at least there was that! I actually picked up the pace for about the last two miles, because it was flat or downhill, because I was thirsty and those last aid stations were really far apart, and because I was hungry and wanted to be done soon. Also I was annoyed that as I looked at the kilometer markers and tried to convert them to miles and compare with my Garmin, it became clear that the run course was long. By a half-mile when I looked afterward. Like we need that. The bike seems to have been about a mile-and-a-half short, but you won't hear me complaining about that.<br />
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Just before it got dark, I crossed the finish line of I think my 17th Ironman. I had no idea of my time because I wasn't sure what time the finish clock represented but I didn't really care, I was just glad that I'd finished and that it wasn't terrible and that for the first time in a long time I ran most of the run, even if not that fast. I had my finish line catcher who took me to get my dry clothes and finisher shirt and then she asked me where I wanted to go. Normally at the end of these things I feel so horrendous that I don't know what will make me feel better, whether lying down or food or water or what. But this time my answer was clear: FOOD. Luckily that was easy, and in short order I'd had pizza, a chicken sandwich and a fudgcicle. It was perfect.<br />
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So, that was that, another Ironman in the books, first international race. I would certainly recommend this one to anyone and maybe someday I'll even do it again myself. But first we need to erase my memory of the insanely long plane rides. Wow, Africa is far. And huge. On our way over we stopped once in Africa briefly, and where we stopped in Africa was actually closer to the US than our final destination on the same continent.<br />
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So that was quite the kick off to the season. Nothing big on the horizon for now, just sticking with a bunch of local races over the summer, I think. But this was a pretty good start.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-11376618919302813932015-01-01T17:04:00.001-08:002015-01-01T17:04:28.470-08:00End of 2014Well, I'm still not great at updating the blog. Oh, well. 2014 has come to a close and we are finally at 2015, and it looks nothing like Back to the Future II told us it would. Oh, well. I'd have to say that in general I enjoyed 2014. It started a little rough when I couldn't train at all for the first couple of months, and then had to go try and do a 70.3 in Texas with hardly any training. Somehow someone knew that under those circumstances it would be the perfect time for me to flat in a race for the first time in 11 years so I couldn't even attempt to run, which would've been a disaster. <br />
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Then I got to spend a month or so training in Tulsa with my friend Jessica Jones and our other friend Logan Franks. These guys are pros, so it was mostly wheel sucking but it really was a nice place to ride, and a gorgeous pool to swim in. Although admittedly it was nice to not be the one in serious training and just go along with whatever. And when we went to the pool, if Jessica had to swim 4000 meters I could be perfectly happy hopping in another lane and only swimming 2000. <br />
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That was kind of my main approach to this season. I'd done so many Ironman races over the prior ten seasons and the last bunch had not gone well in the slightest. It really had nothing to do with my athletic ability and everything to do with the fact that I'd completely lost my motivation to train for those races. I kept kind of falling behind and trying to catch up but mostly knowing that it was far too late. So if you check out any of my race results from the last couple of seasons, none of them were really that surprising to me. I had the result I'd trained for. The last time I remotely trained well for an Ironman race was Ironman Texas in 2012, and hey, 6th in my age group! So, you do the work, the race goes well. You don't? Well, I never finished in the dark before quite recently. <br />
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Rather than continue this pattern, I decided to take 2014 off. There were a few times where I considered signing up for an Ironman, getting in on something late, but I resisted those urges and in the end, I was so, so glad. It's not that I don't enjoy those races or training for them, but you simply can't make yourself do that year after year after year when you're not enjoying it. 2014 was spent without a training plan. I didn't log a single workout. I really didn't even PLAN a single workout. Over the summer I swam a lot with my open water swim friends, I hardly biked at all and I ran just enough to keep from getting winded in a 5K. And I really enjoyed most of the workouts I did. <br />
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I did do a few races, mostly short and incredibly low key ones. I didn't put any pressure on myself, didn't look at the slow results and compare myself to back when I could run marathons faster than my 5K race pace (that was seriously true) but rather just enjoyed going out and doing some fun little races and not worrying about results or training. The intent was not to have this be the norm, but more to give myself the mental and physical break so that I could be ready to get back into serious training for next year. Because I'd been talked into racing Ironman South Africa in March, and I am not going to South Africa without being prepared to race.<br />
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After my last little race of the season in September, my new plan was to go to Hawaii to hang out with my friends and watch the race, swim and run and surf as much as I felt like, come home and take one more week off and then get into serious training. I built myself a training plan that I'd follow for 22 weeks beginning at the end of October, and I was going to stick to it and be "serious athlete" again.<br />
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So far, it's going remarkably well. I think that break was just what I needed. I'm coming up on the end of week #10 and I haven't missed a workout. I'm feeling faster and stronger than I've felt in a very long time and I'm actually kind of excited about this race. Am I super speedy? Ah, no, definitely not. But I'm making a lot of progress, and that is the most important thing. And I've still got 12 weeks of training to make a lot more progress. <br />
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So basically 2014 was like, resting and getting ready for 2015. So far my plan is working well. And somehow I think that training hard in the middle of winter is strangely easier than it is in the summer. I mean, aside from the last week of holidays, nothing is really going on. I'm not missing out on anything when I'm getting up early to hit the pool or pedaling my bike aimlessly in the basement. It's cold and the sun sets at 4 in the afternoon, so I might as well do a lot of training. <br />
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I'm looking forward to what will hopefully be a better year. Last year certainly wasn't bad, and I'd argue it was better than 2013, possibly better than 2012, definitely better than 2011, and infinitely better than 2010, which was the worst year of my life. But mostly I'd like to have a year that I can look back on and without question say was a great one. There's only one way to find out...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-37161798326447315652014-11-17T14:15:00.001-08:002014-11-17T14:15:31.606-08:00"It's Not Easy But It's Worth It!"The title of this post is what some random old guy walking his dogs said to me as I ran by him on the trail. I don't think I'd ever seen him before, so it was truly random encouragement but his words certainly rang true. <br />
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I've just finished my first three weeks of training and am at the beginning of the greatly anticipated rest week. I have to say, for the first two weeks or so, it almost felt... easy. I suppose part of that is that it was relatively easy, since it's base and all Z1 stuff, which is my favorite, and the volume wasn't particularly high. So I suppose it was bound to feel easy, but it was nice to feel good for the majority of the workouts. I do admit that sometime in the middle of week three, when my alarm started waking me up early in the morning out of a sound sleep, that some of the novelty had worn off. But overall, it felt really good to get back out there with a plan and a schedule and an upcoming race to look forward to. <br />
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Weather has also been cooperating mostly. I've lucked out in that I've done all of my bike rides outside so far. It should be noted that I'm willing to ride in colder temperatures than most people. As long as what I bring to drink with me won't freeze solid and the roads are dry, I'm probably going to hit the road. I've had some chilly rides but really, as long as I'm dressed well, I'm mostly fine. <br />
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It's amazing how quickly this makes me feel more like myself. It's not that I hadn't been doing anything before, but I was doing things without any plan or purpose, and waiting and doing things later in the day. I'm the kind of person who really needs to just get up first thing in the morning and get up and get the training done and then move on with the rest of my day. It just makes me feel better in general. And for the first time in a long time I'm really excited about the upcoming season. I feel like I got the rest I needed and the mental break from constantly having an Ironman to do, and now I'm ready to get back at it and do what needs to be done with fresh legs and without feeling mentally worn down. Granted, we still have 19 weeks to go and a lot can happen in that time, but so far, so good!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-5302839767622379972014-11-01T13:52:00.002-07:002014-11-01T13:52:16.180-07:00One Week (almost) Down, 21 to GoMy little training vacation came to an end this past Monday when I decided to actually start training, with an actual plan, for my next Ironman. Today is Ironman Florida which means it has now been a year since I last did one of those crazy races, and it'll be another five months before I do my next one. And right now I'm totally fine with that. <br />
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So on Monday I did something I haven't done in about seven months and I set my alarm and headed for the pool. I've swum plenty, including some pool time down in Oklahoma and lots of lake swims over the summer, but I hadn't set foot at my home pool since before I left to drive down south in the spring for my racing/training adventure. The people at the gym checking me in are totally different, there was nobody in the pool I recognized, and I forgot what it was like to smell like chlorine. It was a good start, though. Then there was some lifting, which I hadn't done in, I don't know, two years maybe? <br />
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The beginning of this week reminded me why so many people must start an exercise program and almost immediately stop. I was really, really sore. Wednesday especially, for whatever reason, was the worst. If I hadn't experienced that before and known it would go away fairly quickly, I might've been tempted to give up, too. But even just Thursday I felt a lot better, and Friday nothing really at all. So that was a good start. <br />
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The weather for the most part cooperated so I was able to ride outside. It hasn't been warm, but it's been dry. Well, until today. Today I knew the rain was coming for my long ride but I thought I might be able to squeeze it in between the first hint of daylight and the storm moving in without getting soaked. That might've been true if my scheduled ride was about 45 minutes shorter, but, sadly, it wasn't. And the mist that started things off turned into full on rain with about twenty minutes to go. Oh, well. I suppose it could've been worse, but as it was I got in probably three hours of dry biking. <br />
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The last two years I became sort of a trainer wimp. Maybe I shouldn't say wimp, because honestly, I've always found riding outdoors in less-than-ideal conditions to be the lesser of two evils when compared to pedaling aimlessly in the basement. But I really did used to ride in just about anything as long as the roads weren't icy and it was above about 25 degrees. Today was in the low 40s, very overcast, but I was reminded that really, if you are dressed for the weather, it's not bad at all. Also funny was that I was all layered up and wearing gloves and shoe covers and fleece lined things and back in September I did a race in just my usual tri kit and it was the exact same temperature. <br />
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The first week will officially be over after I finish up my long run tomorrow morning, in what is supposed to be 40-45mph wind so that will be... interesting. But the good news is, so far things are going well and I'm enjoying it, even with less than optimal weather. It's nice to have a big goal to get me through the winter.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-11735060154343638572014-10-27T16:06:00.000-07:002014-10-27T16:06:42.876-07:00Day 1: 22 Weeks to Race DayRemember me? I did just check and was impressed with myself when I saw that I had actually posted in June, so four months of silence isn't as bad as I'd thought. My intent is to actually blog more often heading into the 2015 season, but since we all know how that can sometimes go I won't make any promises beyond the fact that I'll try. <br />
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Today marked my first day back in "official" training for the 2015 season. My goal race to start off will be Ironman South Africa, which is quite a trek for someone who has actually never left the country before for a race. In fact, I've only left the country one other time, period, and that was fifteen years ago. So this should be quite an adventure. I wrote up my training plan last week and if I survive the grueling workouts I've set for myself, I should be in a very good spot for race day.<br />
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This past season I took an intentional break from Ironman, and I think I really needed it. I did my first race in 2004 and since then the only year other than 2014 in which I didn't do at least 1 Ironman race was 2011, and that was only because I found out I had a stress fracture two weeks before I was due to race in Coeur D'Alene. Mentally and physically, I can't tell you how nice it was not to be staring at twenty-five+ hour training weeks constantly, 4-7 hours of training on most days, and just endless miles. Yes, it is nice to push our bodies and test our limits and see what we can do, but I do believe there is only so much of that you can do consistently before it stops feeling worthwhile to you. It eventually requires at least a temporary break, if not a permanent one. I feel much less daunted by the training I'm staring at for the next 22 weeks given that I'm coming off a pretty care-free year in terms of training. I biked when I felt like it, or mostly just when friends wanted to ride. I tried to run at least somewhat consistently, and was in a position where even a 45-minute run was a worthwhile venture, which was a nice change of pace. And I swam quite a bit given that it was summer and I love open water swimming. It was a nice and needed break. <br />
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But today I was back at it. I actually set my alarm and drove to my pool, where they haven't seen me since either late March or early April. Just remember that at that point I went to Texas and Tulsa and got plenty of swimming in down there before coming back and hitting the lakes or ocean, so I haven't been quite as much of a slacker as that timeframe implies. I don't think I recognized anybody there but was at least glad that it wasn't crowded. I then hit the weight room for the first time in a long, long time. I don't even remember the last time I lifted. We had reached a point where since I am not generally a strength limited athlete, we bypassed strength training in favor of other things, but given my lengthy absence from serious training, it seems like it can only be a good idea. <br />
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I even wen to Bikram yoga today. I don't think I've done that in five years but I decided I wanted to toss something else in there and work on some core and other strength stuff. That was more intense than I remembered. And tougher. And I forget that in spite of the fact that I have zero issues when swimming, biking and running, my knees are not so good. But I think it will be a good addition, at least for the first 8-10 weeks before the rest of the training really kicks into high gear, at which point I fear hanging out trying to do yoga in a 105-degree room might have vastly more of a chance of resulting in me passing out in front of a room full of strangers. <br />
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But anyway, day 1 is done. It went pretty well. Now I just have to string together a few months of this and I'll be all set!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-61474635547868653582014-06-24T16:08:00.001-07:002014-06-24T16:08:58.055-07:00Signed up for Ironman South Africa 2015I believe I mentioned in my last post that I am taking 2014 off from Ironman training. I've been very happy with that decision. My "big" race for the year will be Timberman, and the thought of training for "just" a half is so, so much less daunting than a full. 3 hour bike rides? 45 minute swims? No problem. And also the feeling that every little run will help, and I don't have to somehow make it through 26 miles. <br />
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Last weekend I actually did a little race. Half the reason I did it at all was because it happened to fall on my birthday, and I'd never done a race on my birthday. Since usually I do pretty much nothing outside of normal training on my birthday, it seemed like a fun alternative. It was a very small Olympic distance race in a part of New Hampshire I'd never been in before. Or at least I don't think I had. The weather was gorgeous and it was a nice, very small and low key event. There was also a sprint, and a duathlon, and I think an aquabike option for both distances. The longer race was also the smaller one, so with only 40-something of us, it was actually a mass start swim which was kind of fun. The lake was the perfect temperature, and nice and clean and a course that was easy to follow. I managed to be 5th out of the water. As usual, I was way too slow for the fast people (I think the top 4 all came out at least 3 minutes before I did) and too fast for the average people. I think I'm forever doomed to swim in no-man's land. <br />
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The bike was actually 30 miles which is a little long, and since I didn't do my homework I didn't realize how long it was going to be until I showed up and looked at the map. Not that that's a big deal, but I probably should've brought along another energy gel. I raced without any data whatsoever. No watch, no Garmin, no bike computer. It was kind of nice. The ride was fun and went by fairly quickly. I probably could've pushed harder, but since I am officially a terrible runner, I figured I was better off not completely destroying any chance to at least kind of, sort of run. <br />
<br />
Off the bike and onto the run course, I think it was good not to know how slow I was going. I've had once again some pretty interrupted training over the spring with the back issue and minor surgery over the winter, so mostly I just wanted to "run" and get through it. Wow, I was slow. And that course was very lonely. But of course I got through it, and the good news is that if you lack the capacity to run anything resembling "fast" then you don't get blisters and you're not sore at all afterward. So I've bounced back nicely. That race also proved that if you find a small enough race you can always manage to place. I came in third. Out of all of ten women. And I won a tri top, size small. I'm not trying to put myself down, but I'm definitely not a small. Oh, well, it was a fun morning. And that's how I spent my birthday. <br />
<br />
July looks to be empty of races but will consist of some training and the annual trip up to Lake Placid to train, coach, and generally have a fun time hanging out with a lot of my friends. And today I officially signed up to race in South Africa in 2015. The race is at the end of March, which will make the winter.... interesting. But I think this will be good for me. I've never raced internationally. Actually, I've only ever left the country once, on a family trip to Ireland way back in 1999. I've got some friends who brought up the idea of making a big trip out of it, and you know what? Why not? How often do you get to go to South Africa? I'm guessing just the once, so I can't wait to make the most of that. Also, race entry fees there are about $200 cheaper than your average Ironman. So it also has that going for it. <br />
<br />
Other than that, weather has been good, lots of lake swimming and enjoying sun. Looking forward to a good summer of not Ironman training, before I have to spend the whole winter very much Ironnan training.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-59846144442004742412014-06-15T10:45:00.001-07:002014-06-15T10:45:25.492-07:00Tulsa Training RecapThis is more than a little belated since I've been home for almost a month now, but since I've barely updated at all in the past year I'd say it isn't such a bad offense. <br />
<br />
I spent about a month between April and May training in Tulsa with my friend and pro triathlete Jessica Jones. One of the things I love about what I do is the opportunity to meet so many great people and how so many times it has led to such good friendships, often beginning from mere days-long training camps. I met Jessica at a RaceQuest Travel camp last Memorial Day up in Lake Tahoe and we got to hang out a little in Kona, and when she offered to have me come down to Tulsa to train with her, and winter was never ending and I had nothing better to do aside from training by myself, how could I say no? <br />
<br />
I'll say the training there was pretty good. I can't really complain much. Drivers were courteous to bikers, I got to swim in a long course pool that is likely the most beautiful facility I've used, and biking and running along the river trails was also excellent. It didn't hurt to also be a 2-minute walk from a Chipotle. Well, maybe that's a bad thing. I can't decide. <br />
<br />
The only really unfortunate thing was that for the first 3 weeks I was there I was unable to run because my back was seized up. I skipped some swimming too in the initial week or so, but was fortunate that for whatever reason, biking didn't bother it. Except getting on and off, but as long as I was riding, things were fine. Then finally one day, out of nowhere, it just didn't hurt anymore. I suppose I shouldn't say "out of nowhere" because I did get chiropractic treatment, but just as weirdly and mysteriously as the pain had shown up, it was gone. <br />
<br />
After the first week we were joined by another pro triathlete friend, Logan Franks. Jessica knows Logan from Team RWB, and I actually knew Logan from when he was with us at QT2. So funny how everyone knows everyone, just through slightly different channels. Logan also brought his dog, Ubu, who is a really awesome dog who almost makes me want to get one of my own. He also loved licking sweat off your legs after a workout. Logan wasn't training for the race either, so we were both mostly just tagging along for workouts. <br />
<br />
I have to say, for once it was nice not being the one who had to train. I trained plenty, but there were certainly times when we went to the pool and Jessica had to swim 4000 meters when I would just wait a bit before getting in and/or get out early. I can't keep up with her in the water anyway, so I promise this didn't make me a bad training partner. I mean, it didn't make me a great one either, but at least I usually drove us to the pool where we got to listen to what Jessica referred to as the "Russian Roulette" that is my iPod. You never quite knew what was going to pop up. <br />
<br />
I finally got out to do some running as well, and that was nice. Well, mostly. Obviously starting up to run again after some time off is always difficult, but it was nice that it at least didn't hurt. I was still stuck running alone though, because while I can hang on the wheels on a bike with some pro triathletes, I certainly can't run with them. <br />
<br />
It's a lot of fun sharing some time with people who do the same things you do. Always on the same page with workouts (well, that was easy since we just followed whatever Jessica was doing!) and nobody made fun of anyone for going to bed too early. There was surprisingly little down time though, what with all of the training and Jessica's kids. But we did get to spend a nice afternoon kayaking at a local lake, so it wasn't all training all the time. <br />
<br />
Eventually our training came to an end and it was time to head back to Texas for the race. Jessica flew down and her mom picked her up since she lives down in Houston, and Logan and I drove down to meet up at the house we were staying at with Jessica's coach, Kevin Purcell. The house worked out great, not too far away from the venue. I was once again thrilled that I had not signed up, although I was definitely jealous that they were experiencing record cold temperatures and race day was about 20 degrees colder than last year. The swim was even 100% wetsuit legal. Oh, well, it was still better to be on the sidelines that day. <br />
<br />
I got to see a lot of other friends who had come down to race and watch, so that was a lot of fun. Jessica had a very solid day in what was only her third Ironman, coming in seventh place, so everyone was happy. And after the race, we got to celebrate with her birthday cake which her mom had made since her birthday was the day before. Overall it was a really fun trip. <br />
<br />
Sadly, the next day, it was time to drive home. Driving home is never as fun as driving down. I opted to forgo the 4am start on day 1 and any attempts to push to get home in only 2 days and instead got up and ran before packing up and hitting the road a little before 10am. My initial plan was to go just east of Birmingham and stop basically in the same place as I'd stopped by first day on the drive down, but once I got to that point, it wasn't that late and I wasn't sick of driving yet so I decided to push a little further. Sadly, once you get past that point, there isn't much there. So when I finally felt like I wanted to stop, there was basically no civilization for a while and I wound up crossing time zones and stopping just past Chattanooga. But, the good news there was that I was that much closer to home and had that much less road to cover. <br />
<br />
It also meant that I got to stop off the following night in New Jersey to visit my cousin Matt and his wife Carolyn and their daughter, Maddie who just turned 1. I see them a lot when they come up north to visit my aunt and uncle, but I've never seen where they live and since they were right off the highway on my way and it was too far for me to go all the way home, it made for the perfect final rest stop, and only a little over 4 hours to go the following day. <br />
<br />
So, finally, after being gone for almost 2 months, I made it home. Of course once again I feel like I never want to drive all over the country again, but I suppose as long as opportunities keep coming up and I've got nothing better to do, I'll take them. That said, I wouldn't mind if I had more reasons to stay put! <br />
<br />
Since then it's just been adjusting to being home again. I made an early attempt at open water swimming with my crazy friends who seem to think that as long as the ice has melted, the water is ok to swim in. That first attempt was... a little too cold for me, as it involved being able to see our breath and slightly numb lips. I know wetsuits are helpful, but they're not <i>that </i>helpful. Fortunately a week and a half later the water was perfect, so that has been fun. I biked with some friends I haven't biked with in years, caught up with some people, attended some family parties, and the weather has at least sometimes been decent. It's definitely better than it was when I left. <br />
<br />
I think that's about as caught up as I'm going to get.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-55666175044493392292014-06-06T16:40:00.000-07:002014-06-06T16:40:08.739-07:00Definition of SuccessI have returned home from one of my stints of driving all over the country and living out of my car (and other people's homes). Hopefully I'll catch up a bit and write a blog to recap my training travels and experiences, but this is something I've been thinking of writing about for a while and I wanted to get it out. It has to do with success. In this case I'll speak more specifically in regards to success in sport, but I do think it applies to just about everything. <br />
<br />
Success is never a surprise. Not really. I mean, sure, sometimes maybe you didn't expect to do as well as you did, or maybe you failed a few times and it was a little surprising when you finally accomplish what you set out to do, but it is always the result of a lot of hard work and perseverance. The level of success you achieve may be mildly surprising, but seeing a good result from that hard work shouldn't completely shock you. <br />
<br />
I have seen this in the athletes I coach and most notably in myself as an athlete. First I need to say that success should not be measured any one way for every single person. Success means something different for each person. I've coached athletes doing the exact same race where one went 14:30 and another went 9:30 and got a Kona slot and both were extremely successful races. It should be based on reaching your potential under the circumstances you have to work with. This also means that even the same athlete might need to have a different definition of success based on their life situation at the time. Your best race when you have 20 hours a week to train is going to be different from your best race you can manage when you only had 10 hours a week to train because work got really busy, or your wife just had a baby, or any other number of reasons that life gets in the way. The result after only training 10 hours a week might not be as good, but if you maximized the time you had it should still be considered a success. <br />
<br />
People I know who are successful in racing don't make many excuses. They just get the training done. That's not to say that they are not hindered by obstacles like the occasional cold, an unexpected business trip, sick kids, or again, any number of legitimate reasons that training sometimes gets sidetracked. But they do take those things in stride, miss the workouts they simply can't get in, move on and let those go without worrying about how it will impact everything else. But they also do their best to get in what they can without disrupting the rest of their lives. Yes, I said it's ok to miss workouts. The successful people know the difference between missing a workout because you legitimately can't get it in (or are legitimately exhausted) and skipping a workout because it is less than 100% convenient or they decide that a minor obstacle gives them a legitimate reason to skip it. (Please note: I've been guilty of that second one myself. I think we all are at times.) <br />
<br />
This is not to say by any means that every single person who decides to do a triathlon should never make any excuses, and it certainly doesn't mean that they should prioritize their training over things that really matter in their real life. It simply means that you should manage your expectations and don't be shocked when you maybe don't do as well as you thought you would. Or when you maybe don't do as well as that guy you know who you used to be just as fast as, but maybe he has a really flexible work schedule and his kids are in college and he has a lot more free time. <br />
<br />
I don't know a whole lot of people who nail all of their training and then have bad results to show for it. Of course there are always going to be cases of bad luck like flat tires, broken chains, unfortunately timed illnesses or days where your stomach just isn't cooperating. "Nailing your training" though doesn't just mean physically getting it done, but it means being mentally present as well. And taking care of the little things like your health, nutrition and rest. If you're not racing up to your potential (and again, by "potential" here I mean based on your own life circumstances, so your "potential" as a working mom with an hour a day during the week is different from your potential if you are someone like me who is single with no parental responsibilities) then there is usually a concrete reason for that. And if you are successful then usually you can look back and see that you just went out and got it done. <br />
<br />
I've been thinking a lot about this because when it comes to myself, I've somehow morphed from a "no excuses" type athlete to.... well, not quite like that. Training wasn't optional, it was just what I did that day. Alarm went off, and I was up and out of bed before I even had a chance to think about it. Clothes were laid out for whatever workout, and there wasn't any stopping to think, "Should I go train or should I go back to bed?" Again, it just wasn't a question. <br />
<br />
I discourage you from looking at some of my more recent race results, because I know what they say. But if you do, and then you go back and compare them to some of my better years when winning my age group at many races or coming in top 10 in my age group in Kona happened more than once, you might wonder what the heck happened. Now, there were some legitimate setbacks in there. Injuries (hoping for no more stress fractures, ever), minor surgery, or my father's accident and death. But I allowed the setbacks to destroy the momentum, and I haven't fully gotten going again. I can assure you that at this point it is entirely mental as I'm probably physically healthier than I've been in a long time, without any sort of lingering aches or pains that I was working my way through. <br />
<br />
I've done some crazy things in the past to get workouts in. I wouldn't say that every person should do such crazy things, but I will say that when I look back at those crazy workouts and my dedication, it is absolutely no wonder I raced as well as I did. Get up at 4am to get in a 3 hour run before work? Sure. Swim 4000 yards at 5am, drive up to go skiing, and follow up said skiing with a trainer ride and an outdoor run? Sure. Getting up between 3:30 and 4am for an entire week of a vacation at Disney World to get 27 hours of training in while not interfering with any of the family fun? Oh, and also riding my bike on a 2.7 mile loop over and over again, mostly in the dark, for 6 hours, during that same vacation. Sure, I never even thought that it wasn't an option. <br />
<br />
I won't guarantee that every single person who completely dedicates themselves like that will be a Kona qualifier, or whatever else your goal might be. But you can surely improve dramatically if you dedicate yourself enough. But then I'll also say that you should know yourself well enough to know just how much you want to dedicate yourself. If your life is such that you can prioritize the training, then great, go for it. But if it isn't, then that's ok, too. But try not to be envious of the super fast people, because they are most likely making a lot of sacrifices to be so fast, and those sacrifices are probably not worth the result for you. And again, that's ok. Some people's jobs are more demanding, and some people have more family obligations or any other number of real life things that get in the way. Keep your life situation in perspective when it comes to the goals you set out for yourself and understand that your definition of success can vary based on it. Rather than being upset about the fact that you can't beat that guy in your age group because he has way more time to train just appreciate the time that you do have and the reasons that you can't train as much, whether those be your great family or a job you enjoy that maybe just takes up a little more time than you'd like. <br />
<br />
But, sometimes the results just speak more to your level of dedication, and sometimes you don't have a great reason. Or maybe this only applies to me. My results are no accident. Sure, I will tell you that I was surprised when I won Lake Placid since I knocked an hour off my (also Kona qualifying) time from the year before, because I was. I was surprised maybe at the actual level of success, but not at the fact that I nailed the race and felt great the whole way through. I had been completely dedicated to my training. I don't recall specifically but I am pretty sure I didn't miss a workout for at least 6 months leading up to it. I got up early, went to bed early, ate right and raced light. On some level I still see it as a fluke, (and in some ways it was because of course it just depends on who else shows up) but when I really look at my approach in the months leading up, I was incredibly dedicated. The same can be said of my race there in 2009. I did have a somewhat disappointing run that year, but after a terrible year prior, I had to overcome a lot more coming back, and since I once again nailed the training, I had what was probably the best possible result under the circumstances. <br />
<br />
I'm skipping Ironman races this year. I think I needed to not have a marathon weighing over my head for a year, and so far I'm very happy with that decision. After 17 of them, I could use a year off. And I'm hoping to regain that momentum to once again become the successful athlete I was before. It really does become second nature eventually, and I do enjoy the training once getting over that initial hump where it is not fun and you can only think about how slow you are. I'm also hoping to start blogging more again as an outlet for my writing and because when life is going well and training is going well, I write more. So, here's to a fun summer of training and local races and getting the positive momentum going again. I'm looking forward to doing all races within driving distance this year and hopefully having fun and maybe even doing well.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-29175034669012081222014-04-21T10:04:00.000-07:002014-04-21T10:04:03.342-07:00Adventures in TulsaWell, apparently I haven't written in a very long time. Not that a lot of excitement has happened, but still. I did at least start a post in July after spectating in Lake Placid, but it looks like I never finished it. Oh, well. <br />
<br />
So, let's see, for the past year and a half there has been some mediocre training and some terrible races to show for it. I set some new personal worsts but did at least finish some things, so there's that. After Ironman Florida last year I wound up not doing a single bit of training until a little over a month ago due to some issues, and since I had already signed up for Galveston, I had a crash course in half Ironman training. <br />
<br />
This winter was harsh, to say the least. I suppose of all winters to get stuck not training and not contending with the elements, this was probably a good choice. It was routinely below zero with the wind, snowed quite a bit, and never gave us any of those little breathers in the form of days with unseasonably warm temperatures. Every time you walked out the door, any exposed skin just plain hurt. Needless to say, it was not pleasant. Everyone kept asking me where I was going for the winter, or why I hadn't gone somewhere. Well, first, I couldn't train anyway. And after two years in a row of driving all over the place, I'd kind of gotten over it.<br />
<br />
But then winter just kept going. I finally got the go ahead to do some training. And my friend Jessica Jones Meyers had offered to have me come down to Tulsa to train with her for Ironman Texas. After a while it seemed stupid <i>not </i>to do it. So, rather than flying down to race Galveston, I'd drive down and then drive up to Oklahoma afterward to do some training, then go back down to IMTX, and then go home from there, when we can hope that by Memorial Day it will be at least sort of warm back home. <br />
<br />
I did not sign up for Ironman Texas this year. I couldn't be happier about that right now. I almost did, and then it sold out earlier than usual, and then it became apparent that I could in no way be ready for it in time. I've headed into way, way too many races the last few years just not anywhere near where I needed to be. So I haven't been signed up for an Ironman in months and it feels pretty good. <br />
<br />
Anyway, on March 31st, after one last training day that included a run in pouring rain and 35 degrees, I hit the road for Texas, covering over 1100 miles on the first day and spending the night somewhere east of Birmingham. The following day, I made the much shorter drive to Texas. I met up with some of my best friends in Galveston, where we all went in nice and relaxed. All I wanted to do was get through it, as after basically four weeks of training, totally from scratch, just finishing would be something. The swim was incredibly rough, but since I'm very comfortable in the water, it didn't really bother me, it just made me much slower. Also, lack of swim training didn't help. <br />
<br />
The bike was pretty speedy until about 40 miles in when I flatted after running over some glass and there was just no fixing it. I hadn't flatted in a race since 2003, my second half Ironman at Timberman, so I suppose I was due. Of all of the races for this to happen at, I'd definitely take that one. So I went back and watched my friends finish and most had great days. <br />
<br />
So, now here I am in Tulsa. I've never spent more than a night in Oklahoma, passing through to drive somewhere else. I know, people are probably like, you went to Tulsa? To train? It's not usually the first place that might come up on your list. But then neither was Birmingham, and I found the training there to be excellent. I've trained in Tucson and San Diego and a few supposed triathlon paradises. While the weather is usually perfect as advertised, I've often found the roads for riding less than desirable when it comes to stop lights and traffic. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I've been here a week, and so far, so good. I'm really getting thrown into the gauntlet here. Unfortunately, all of that driving seems to have done something to my back, so I haven't been able to run, and swimming doesn't feel so great either. Luckily biking doesn't hurt at all, except for the fact that I am woefully out of shape and with the exception of one recovery ride, all of our rides thus far have been in the 4-5+ hour range. So I'm either going to get pretty fit pretty fast or I'm going to totally implode. We'll see which. I've just been tagging along with whatever Jessica has been doing. It's kind of nice not to have to worry about the race at the end of it. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy training and I like being on task and getting ready for a race, but right now this is just what I need, and it's nice not to worry about my (lack of) fitness or to be overly concerned that I can't run because my back still hurts. Then, when I go home, I plan on racing a lot locally and getting the fun back into things. <br />
<br />
It's been great staying and training with someone, too. I get stuck training alone most of the time. Of course most of that is my own doing. More recently I've just been so far off track that I couldn't train with anyone even if I wanted to. I used to have no trouble going out and doing absolutely everything by myself, but it's certainly gotten old. It's also crazy to see how Jessica keeps up with not just the training, but also two very energetic seven-year olds. I've definitely never taken for granted my ability to finish hard workouts and just collapse on the couch. Although this way does keep things much more entertaining. <br />
<br />
Anyway, nice easy day today and I'm not sure what's on tap for tomorrow but I'm guessing another fairly long bike ride in this nice weather. I'm liking the roads here, too. Hopefully this will be just the kick I need to get back on track, and hopefully it will help Jessica have a great race down in Texas.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-70806432683972089872013-02-01T18:39:00.003-08:002013-02-01T18:39:47.635-08:00Sticking Around For the WinterAnybody who knows me knows that the past two winters I've packed up my car and escaped to warmer climates for a few months. Sure, I got to experience record lows, icy pool decks and snow in Tucson, but the other 2 months and 28 days I was there it was quite lovely. And I learned that Alabama is actually a really nice place to train as long as you can outsprint the loose dogs when biking. <br />
<br />
I actually kind of enjoyed driving and seeing so much of the country. Anytime anyone asked me about it, they'd usually shake their heads and tell me they didn't know how I did it. Sure, it gets old after a while, but when there is no traffic, which there often isn't as you drive through so many remote parts of the country, it's actually pretty peaceful. And how often do you get to do something like that? But I think in May as I woke up one morning in Louisiana and didn't stop to sleep again until Pennsylvania over 1000 miles later I felt like maybe I'd had enough driving all over the country and packing up my life for 3-4 months at a time. <br />
<br />
So this year I've decided to suck it up and settle in and accept that yes, I am a northern girl. And hey, it's been a while since I really got used to my bike trainer and watched a whole lot of movies and TV shows. In some ways it's nicer than hoping that route I made up while looking at Google maps would turn out all right and I wouldn't get lost. And then there was that time I flatted in a pretty remote area of Tucson my final week there and then pulled my phone out of my jersey pocket and realized I didn't have anyone to call and it seemed like a total waste that I'd been carrying it with me all those months. "Hi, Mom. I got a flat. No, I know you can't come get me, but I just wanted to let you know. No, don't worry because every few minutes some random pickup truck drives by and I'm sure the one that stops won't be because they want to murder me." Plus, just think of how much less mileage I'll put on my car. <br />
<br />
Nothing else much to report here. I have Galveston 70.3 and IMTX again on tap to start the season. I never would've thought I'd actually like racing in Texas but I enjoyed both way more than I thought I would. So, why not go back? Especially when I can fly there and it won't require driving across Louisiana. If you've never driven across I-10 and I-12 through Louisiana, I wouldn't recommend it. Somehow the traffic never seems to let up, you will almost inevitable at some point come across the kind of rain that makes you have to pull over for a few minutes until you can see again, and for some reason people down there seem to like to drive 5-10mph under the speed limit as opposed to 5-10mph over like we do up here. <br />
<br />
All right, that's about it for now. I'm hoping to get back to blogging more regularly so that all three of you who read this can be further entertained :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-90105096939758779012013-01-22T15:22:00.001-08:002013-01-22T15:22:29.468-08:00A Poem From JackThis may be a new record for longest I've gone between posts, but I'll try a little harder. <br />
<br />
Last week we lost a relative after he spent some time battling cancer. Jack McCarthy was my mother's cousin, although to me he seemed more like an uncle you just don't get to see that often, occasionally joining us for Thanksgiving or Christmas or some other random popping by. What made him unique was that he was a poet. He traveled the country reading at poetry slams, which I never knew existed before him, and was quite well known within the poetry community. He's got a few books of his poetry out, but it really was something to watch him perform. Boston people can truly appreciate his poem for Bill Buckner. <br />
<br />
When I learned of his passing, I remembered an email he sent me after my father died. It included a poem that anyone might find quite comforting when facing the loss of a loved one. I thought I might share the email and the poem he sent me. The writing of mine he refers to is what I wrote about my father while he was still in the hospital and before he died, and the mention of my brother is in reference to his eulogy.<br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Jack McCarthy: May 23, 1939 - January 17, 2013</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
Dear Molly,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
Thank you. Actually, Mark printed off a copy and I read it
last night. It was beautifully written; all the love was between the lines, you
never spilled over into sentimentality.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
Funny: I know 20x as much about John today as I did 2 weeks
ago. He never tooted his own horn, and I think he usually had to let the dog
out a few minutes after I arrived. I mainly remember him as someone I didn’t
want to collide with on the basketball court or the football field; it was like
running into a wall. Strange to be saying even that; it must be 30 years since
we played our last game.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
I’m very glad I came. I never would have appreciated the
unending line at the funeral parlor, the mob at the funeral. I would never have
had an inkling of what a remarkable guy John was.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
You have a real talent for writing. There’s not a lot of
money in it, but there is a lot of satisfaction. And Johnny could be a writer/performer—but
that won’t surprise anyone.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
We have followed your Iron exploits from a distance. We’re
all very proud of you—although it’s crystal clear that you didn’t get those
talents from the McLaughlin side.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
You have some hard days and nights ahead of you. Following
is a poem that might bring you some consolation in the low moments. (Helen was
Carol’s mother; I wrote this for her when she lost her significant other.)</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
I know that you can never doubt how much you have been
loved.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
Jack</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps;">The
Spaces Between</span></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span><i>for
Helen</i></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
It hurts</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>when
love dies.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
When love is deep,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>it
hurts deeply—</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
more deeply maybe than you thought</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>anything
would ever hurt</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
again.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
But with time,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
the spaces between the moments
when it hurts</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
get longer,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
the moments themselves become</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>less
devastating,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
till eventually you come to
associate them</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>with
a sad sweetness</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
that has as much in common </div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
with love</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
as it does with grief.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
I will not say</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span><i>Don’t
grieve for me</i>—</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
do I look like Saint Francis?</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
But I wish you long </div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
spaces in
between,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
and may you carry into them</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
all of that
sweetness,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
and only enough sadness to attest</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
the risk that’s being taken</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
by everyone who
loves you.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
Every time we love, we’re saying</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span><i>Let
it ride</i>,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
and what’s on the table</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<span> </span>is
the rent money.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
And every time we stride again</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
out into the crisp desert night</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
our fists shoved deep into empty
pockets</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
we know ourselves for losers.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
But, <i>Jesus</i>,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
what brave losers
we are.</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
I wish you this too,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
for the spaces in
between,</div>
<div class="yiv137000618MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
this bravery.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-59854161254508465632012-11-24T15:03:00.002-08:002012-11-24T15:03:51.937-08:00Ironman Arizona Race ReportFive 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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-17051195598591456332012-11-17T13:51:00.002-08:002012-11-17T13:51:31.982-08:00Return to Ironman ArizonaI 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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-32173902027683978642012-11-07T13:33:00.000-08:002012-11-07T13:33:26.710-08:00Why 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. <br />
<br />
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! <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-4318145209227485542012-10-25T18:21:00.000-07:002012-10-25T18:21:17.686-07:00Back HomeWell, 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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-8881283072955025922012-10-21T18:11:00.003-07:002012-10-21T18:11:53.430-07:00Kona ReportYeah, 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. <br />
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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. <br />
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I also got to swim in Saguaro Lake, which should be called, "Why don't we swim <b><i>here</i></b> 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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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! <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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, <b>pay attention!</b> 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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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If you actually read all of that, you are obviously way too bored.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-51286226803107034902012-09-03T13:27:00.001-07:002012-09-03T13:27:08.055-07:00Circle Triathlon Race ReportSomehow 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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-66171616955427302732012-08-30T09:23:00.004-07:002012-08-30T09:23:53.702-07:00Vermont Camp ReportThis 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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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? <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-3520037735400405562012-08-21T09:59:00.000-07:002012-08-21T09:59:08.461-07:00Timberman... Ten Years LaterThis 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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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 <i>not</i> 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. <br />
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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. <br />
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Anyway, enough about <i>that</i> 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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-53569324829898199582012-08-03T17:40:00.003-07:002012-08-03T17:40:54.739-07:00Yeah, 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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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Handball is kind of weird and I don't quite get it. <br />
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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. <br />
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Speaking of indoor volleyball, why does one player on each team wear a different colored jersey?<br />
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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. <br />
<br />
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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-75587870714894987272012-07-31T15:49:00.001-07:002012-07-31T15:49:58.089-07:00Never AnonymousOnce 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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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! <br />
<br />
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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-8014210694165030652012-07-28T19:31:00.001-07:002012-07-28T19:31:48.887-07:00The Rest of 2012...The other day I sat down and finished up making all of the arrangements
and paying all remaining entry fees for the rest of my season, and a bit
into 2013. It made me realize why this sport is full of people who
earn lots and lots of money. It's expensive! If I hadn't been such a
good saver once upon a time, I'd be in real trouble right now. The fact
of the matter is that I'll probably have to really cut back on any
camps or excess travel next year, but for now, the worst of the damage
has been done. I felt like I wanted one really awful credit card
payment so that next month I may feel like I'm under the illusion of
actually making a bit of money. But truthfully my account is about to
have the least amount of money in it I think there has ever been. I
sure wish I had that Ironman CDA unused entry fee back from 2011. And
Timberman from 2011 AND 2010. And other races maybe that I did but
shouldn't have.<br /><br />If anything, I should use this as incentive to
really nail my training. I've invested way too much money to waste it!
So what does this all entail? Let's see.... August will be somewhat
busy including my first return to race Timberman since 2008. The last
time I raced Timberman was the one time I actually cried on the run
course. I also managed to spend more time on the run course than the
bike course. Let's hope I do not have a repeat. The week after that is
QT2 camp in Vermont. Again, I can't really afford this but at the same
time I think I need the group training environment as much as possible
right now. I've always been a real loner when it comes to training, but
to get back where I need to be the group thing seems to be doing me
some good.<br /><br />September will involve a trip to Phoenix for the
first time in five years to do a training camp for Ironman Arizona.
This is necessary to obtain my sneaky entry. Well, not that sneaky,
it's pretty well advertized. Technically I don't have to DO the camp to
get the entry, but if the money is being paid, I'll be doing the camp.
I'll fly from there to Orange County for the staggeringly low price of
$61 thanks to Southwest, where I'll spend the weekend doing a half
ironman out there with Michelle and Jen.<br /><br />I'll then fly home for a
couple of weeks before boarding some very long flights to Kona. Mary
and I spent the weekend joking about how ridiculous it is that we're
going to Kona. She says it's like we're acting like high rollers and we
are definitely not. Seriously, when I bought my car last year they
very nearly didn't give me a loan because of my income. Fortunately my
credit score is outstanding or I might have to ride the Cervelo
everywhere. That would've been a long ride to Texas. We are definitely
crazy for going, but it's still going to be lots of fun and I plan to
make the most of it. My biggest training weeks for Ironman Arizona just
happen to coincide with my trip over there, so it will work out
perfectly. I also plan on doing some surfing. I've been surfing a few
times back here in NH, but it is certainly not the same!<br /><br />So, once
I return from 12 (wait, TWELVE? Who do I think I am?) days in Hawaii,
I'll basically be back for a few weeks of tapering and whining about
training in the cold and dark before going back to Arizona for another
Ironman. The first thing I said to a good friend of mine at the finish
line in '07 there was, "Don't EVER do this race," because I found it so
unpleasant. But, well, the timing is right and I know the course and
know I can go fast there. It is also the site of my first major
disappointment in a race. I had huge hopes for that one, and I
completely blew my legs apart on the bike trying to fight the wind. I
'fell apart' to a 3:47 marathon. I really wish that was still my fall
apart marathon time! We're getting there :)<br /><br />After that, I will
be coming home to sleep for many days and have Thanksgiving before
gearing up for 2013. I'll be racing again in Galveston and at Ironman
Texas. I honestly thought I would hate that race, and nothing could be
further from the truth. In fact, I obviously enjoyed both of those
enough to go back. But rest assured: I will be flying there!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-67338609717578701092012-07-25T10:34:00.001-07:002012-07-25T10:34:15.513-07:00Lake Placid 2012 Spectator ReportI have been terrible about updating, I know. This is going to have to end soon. But, to make up for it, here is an excessively long post about the details of my six days in Lake Placid.<br />
<br />
I headed up on Wednesday, which just happened to be close to a hundred degrees, which meant another packing session spent with sweat just pouring off my face. But once in the car the drive wasn't too bad. I learned that my tiny little car can fit two bikes in it as though it was nothing. And it's not like my bikes are small. I swear that car is like some optical illusion, like the tents in that Harry Potter movie that look all unassuming from the outside, but then inside looks like a huge house. <br />
<br />
I made it in about four and a half hours even though I had bad timing on the ferry, seeing it just pulling away as I rolled up to the pay gate. I was staying at Art Devlin's Olympic Motor Inn, which just happens to be an amazing location for race week. My car was not moved upon my arrival. The girls of room ten became the girls of room 26, right upstairs from our abode several weeks ago. Mary arrived later that evening and as usual we spent too much time talking and went to bed way too late, but fortunately we didn't have a set time to start things in the morning. <br />
<br />
The morning was pleasantly cool, such a nice change of pace after days and days of hot and humid. I actually felt like I could run when I set off for my long run in the morning, up around the lake and down toward the bike course. All I could really think about was how nice it was to not feel like collapsing due to heat exhaustion. After a quick shower I took a walk up to the expo to check things out and wound up replacing my aero helmet. Mine was completely falling apart and literally unwearable at this point since it is cracked nearly in half. I'm no safety expert, but I'm pretty sure that means it has lost its effectiveness. <br />
<br />
Mary and I set off to ride a loop of the course at around noon, her on her new QR which she loves. The weather was simply gorgeous and at that point there weren't too many bikers out, so it was a really pleasant ride. Not long after we finished we met up with Kim so we could all go for a little swim. I am not sure there is another body of water I enjoy swimming in more than Mirror Lake. Well, Mirror Lake as long as it is not on race day, that is. We swam two loops and completed our first day of Placid training in time to get cleaned up and head to dinner at The Cottage with Kim and her husband Kyle. <br />
<br />
Mary and I were going to be the only ones in our hotel room again but we got a late call from Tara who was on her way up. Apparently the house she was supposed to stay in had a guest who was severely allergic to dogs, which meant that Marley wasn't going to be a great addition. This was unknown until just then and even the house owner had to keep his dog in the garage. So she asked if she could come stay with us. Well, why not? So room ten was almost entirely reunited and we got our little mascot back. And of course we stayed up too late talking.<br />
<br />
We decided Friday would be long ride day, and had no interest in leaving at the crack of dawn. So we set off about eight. Mary had about a hundred meetings that day and had to bypass the ride, but Tara and I went off with Charlie and Jen Gray. We all had various lengths to ride but we made it about 30 miles together, at least. Tara had the smart idea of adding to the ride by going back and forth on the flat section rather than climbing back and forth into town, so we all did that as much as we needed to before climbing back into town.<br />
<br />
Of course I was left alone after about 50 miles because I had to ride the longest. The weather was absolutely perfect, and I had one fun experience of refilling my bottles with some lawn sprinklers. I must say that that lawn sprinkler water was delicious and icy cold. Once my ride was done I got in a little transition run and was glad to finally be able to sit down! We took a little break and had planned to swim a little later on. Tara headed down to the beach with Marley, I stayed in to lie down and Mary was off doing whatever Mary does when she's incredibly busy and being pulled in a million directions. <br />
<br />
I finally headed to the water at about five to find Mary and Tara who were both less than enthusiastic about getting in the water. I have to say, at that moment I easily could've put my head down in the grass and fallen asleep right there amidst the chaos, but I also knew I'd feel better if I got in the water and swam. Honesty, the hardest thing sometimes is just getting started. So I convinced them to come with me. Trent arrived in time to join us as well and of course we were all glad that we had gotten in the water. <br />
<br />
After our swim, Mary, Tara and I headed out of town a bit to Tail o' the Pup with Tim Snow for a little coach's meeting. Just a good way to all sit down and ask all of the questions that needed asking and get face to face answers. It was very helpful and a fun way to spend the evening. Well, for us, anyway. Not sure how Tim felt about it! <br />
<br />
We made it home to the hotel where Trent and Marley were waiting, and believe it or not, that did not complete our group. Nope, later that evening, Solveig arrived. I promise though, that was it! Yes, five people and a dog in one little hotel room. Somehow the room actually seemed cleaner than when we were in room 10. So clearly it was all Jennie's fault ;) <br />
<br />
Saturday morning was the QT2 breakfast and we decided we wanted to get a run in before, so we all set off for our various times and distances and got back in time to clean up before heading over for some food. It's quite amazing to see how this has evolved over the past few years. 2009 was my first year with QT2 and at that point we had a few tables set up in the main dining room. Then for two years we were in our own room that was attached to the regular buffet. This year we had nearly a hundred people, our own room and our own personal buffet set up. It was truly incredible. <br />
<br />
Those of us not racing got to enjoy an adequate breakfast that did not involve stuffing ourselves full of pancakes. It was quite nice. You always kind of wonder if you'll get to the race venue and be jealous of the people who are racing. I really wasn't. Maybe it's knowing I've got my own races coming up or the fact that I've done it seven times and don't feel like I'm missing much, but fortunately I don't think it's because I'd never want to. It's just nice to be in town without the pressure and be able to walk around and enjoy things rather than resting and trying to do everything "right." <br />
<br />
After breakfast I took a chance to do some work and then chatted with one of my athletes who was racing so we could go over everything. It's too bad that I can't be at every big race for my athletes because it really is nice to be able to be there for a face-to-face meeting for these things. After that I had just enough time for a little bike ride before we went to go swim again. <br />
<br />
As we walked toward the water we kept running into people we knew. It was funny, the first year I went there I knew I think three people aside from my own family. Now I can't go anywhere without running into people I know. And I'm not even the worst one. I'm positive Mary knows more people and Tara probably does, too. Either way, the consensus once we finally made it to the water was that from then on we had to tack on an extra thirty minutes to get from the hotel to the water even though the walk only takes five, because surely we'd be running into people and talking. <br />
<br />
Another wonderful swim and then we had to get cleaned up for our pre-race meal. There were quite a few people out and about and we had to wait for a table at Dancing Bears but had ourselves a nice meal. We even saw some athletes with race wrist bands having cheeseburgers. Honestly, good for them. I kind of like seeing the people who don't take it that seriously. Sometimes we can put too much stock in eating the exact right thing. I personally wouldn't be able to eat a burger the night before a race, but if it works for you, great.<br />
<br />
After that we headed back to the Lake Placid Brewery for the non-racer pre-race festivities. It was fun and once again I was not sad not to be racing. But even not racing, a little after ten I started fading fast and it took me a while to get out of there because it was like as soon as I decided I was ready to leave I'd get into another conversation, but eventually we did manage to get out of there. Somehow I had a harder time falling asleep than if I were racing, in spite of having been so tired. We also heard some rain that night, but it was over quick.<br />
<br />
Mary got up at 4 I think. I don't know, I was still deliriously tired at that point and could barely figure out what was going on. The rest of us finally left the room sometime after 6. As we headed toward the lake, I still wasn't excited to be racing. Tara is racing in New York City in a few weeks and I asked her if this made her any more excited about her own race and she said no. I told her that I bet that as the day went along she'd be more and more excited about it.<br />
<br />
Let's face it: nobody likes the beginning of an Ironman. The absolute worst part of the day is like the last 15-20 minutes before the race starts. You sit there thinking about all of the training you've done and all of the things that could happen, wondering if you're ready, wondering if you'll get what you wanted out of the day. You wonder if your stomach will cooperate, if you're hydrated enough, if you need one more trip to the bathroom before you get in the water. Then you get in the water and just wait. Just start the stupid race, already! The waiting sucks. It gives you too much time to look at everyone else and wonder how much potential they have to kick you in the face or punch you in the back of the head once you start swimming. The anticipation of the swim start is usually worse than reality. But again, the bottom line is that you do not want to trade places with the racers at that point in the day.<br />
<br />
We saw the pros go off, which is decidedly uneventful as there aren't that many of them and you simply watch Andy Potts launch like a torpedo, never to be seen again. And eventually the cannon fired and off the racers went. We watched a lot of people complete their first loop before making our way toward transition where we could see some people. Positioning ourselves on the oval right where the racers ran toward their bikes turned out to be the perfect position to cheer people on and even ensure that they saw us. It's an excellent place to cheer for people. <br />
<br />
After a long stretch of this we decided to head back to the hotel to quickly regroup and then head over to the infamous Papa Bear hill to continue the spectating. It took us a long time to push our way through the treacherous and ill-planned crosswalk (everyone was just walking into each other and once you got to the other side nobody would move so you could actually get through) but eventually we got to the hotel. Everyone headed out and I stayed behind for a bit to get some neglected work done. I swear I've never felt like I had less time to myself to do my work than I did this week. I hopped on my mountain bike to expedite the process and was too late to see the first few bikers come through but eventually they all started rolling up and we were able to see quite a few of our friends. <br />
<br />
This is where you start to miss the race a bit more. I have a pretty good memory anyway, but I have to say that I vividly recall going up that hill, especially the second loop in 2006. Simply an incredible feeling. We stayed long enough to see all of our athletes before decided to move on. Tara, Marley and I walked back toward the lake to get a swim in. Trent and Mary headed back to the hotel and Solveig was doing some workout somewhere. The trip to the lake involved some sketchy maneuvering behind bike special needs but we did survive. <br />
<br />
Once again we were not that excited to swim, but I have to say it made me feel so much better. Spectating isn't easy. You spend so much time just standing around and your feet and lower legs start to swell up. This is why that one little loop in the lake was so essential. I'm not sure I would've made it through the rest of the day without it. The beach was a zoo but there weren't too many people in the water which was quite nice. <br />
<br />
After that we went back to the hotel and then to the QT2 tent to cheer on some runners. This is maybe a quarter-mile out of transition. As a racer, it is quite intimidating to run by the QT2 tent. I know we all race for ourselves and our friends are simply there to be supportive but there can be a lot of pressure when you know so many people are watching you! It seemed quite hot out even just as a spectator so it would be an interesting run to watch. QT2 racers all seemed to be doing quite well and it was exciting to watch. Also a nice touch was that we were close enough to the hotel room that we could run back whenever we needed anything. <br />
<br />
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of racers and just watching the QT2 women move up to dominate the podium as they took top 3. It was incredible to watch. Jessie Donavan won, who turned pro less than a year ago and works full time, married with three kids. Jennie Hansen came in second in her first Ironman, also having to spend her days working. And third was Jacqui Gordon in her 20th Ironman which apparently she "trained through" so she can also race in New York City in a few weeks. Pretty good day for us! Our men and age groupers didn't do too badly, either. <br />
<br />
As we were spectating and more and more people had finished it was funny to realize that nobody in our little group was racing, so we had no set end time to the cheering. It was like, when are we allowed to go get dinner? Finally we decided to head down to Lisa G's to get something to eat. We sat out back next to a waterfall and it was great. It was also nice to just sit down! It was room 26 plus Pat and Courtney Wheeler. We had all just about had enough after a full day of spectating and cumulative lack of sleep. But of course we did make one last trip to the finish line. <br />
<br />
I saw my athlete finish, and she did not have the day she wanted due to medical issues out of our control. It's disappointing but those sorts of things happen. Kim in her first Ironman as a pro suffered the same sort of fate. It's unfortunate but happens to the best of us. Finally we had had enough and called it a night. <br />
<br />
The following morning we decided to swim a bit early and just get it done. After days and days of it being a zoo over there it was incredibly quiet when we got in the water, as was to be expected. Tara and I swam two loops while everyone else got out after one. Did I mention I love swimming in that lake? <br />
<br />
Upon our arrival back to the hotel we discovered that apparently we needed to check out in an hour. I was the only one who was actually going to stay that night but of course everyone would've used the room to hold there stuff at least a little bit longer, but we had to scramble to get out of there. Fortunately Tim and Cait put me up for the night in the house they'd rented. I probably could've just left, but I had it in my head I wanted to do some workouts on Tuesday morning before I left and just couldn't bring myself to get out of there. <br />
<br />
I walked down to the awards but they did it differently and it was a very simple and quick thing rather than a whole banquet with food, so I actually missed the winner speeches which was disappointing. But I did get to see and talk to some people. That night I had dinner once again at Dancing Bears with Cait and Tim and their other friends from the house. Pretty busy night out there. <br />
<br />
And that brings us to the final day, where I woke up too early and was torn between just falling back asleep because I was so exhausted or just getting up and running, which is what I decided to do. I wanted one more run and it was so nice and quiet, almost eerie. I quickly packed my stuff up and got in one more swim by myself. It was so weird to be alone after so many days of swimming with my friends, but it was still nice. Then I hopped in the car and headed for the ferry.<br />
<br />
I realized that this was my ninth year in a row going to Lake Placid for that race. It seems impossible to me that I'm old enough to be able to say that, but it's true. I absolutely love that town. It's where I did my first Ironman, got my first Kona qualification, and had the absolute race of my life. Every time I go down Main Street I remember a bunch of different little things. Dinners at Jimmy's for my carb load, my last-minute sunglasses purchase at EMS in 2006 because mine broke, my parents shopping in the Adirondack stores to help outfit their new lake house, pre-race swims, running out of T2 and taking the lead, running that out and back, the time I inexplicably tripped over my own two feet and hit the pavement a quarter-mile from the finish, seeing my friends out on the course. Just so many different things. I can't imagine not going back there, whether I ever race there again or not. Either way, I think it was just what I needed for the motivational push to tackle the rest of the season. <br />
<br />
And now I've just finished booking plane tickets and signing up for races and getting hotel reservations and paying for the house in Kona. I have no money left, but it had to be done. It will be interesting to see what happens next for me.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-68531928482732319572012-06-25T15:50:00.001-07:002012-06-25T15:50:06.603-07:00Lake Placid Camp ReportIt's been a while since I blogged and I really do have to get better about it, but often times there is just nothing exciting happening. Not that any of it is all that exciting, but I'd rather have at least a little something to say. Anyway, finally I do. This past weekend we had the first of what should become an annual QT2 training camp up in Lake Placid, home of the awesome Ironman race. From the first time I went up there in 2004 to race for the first time I absolutely loved it, and every time I go back I feel exactly the same. Seriously, I could live there. <br />
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Anyway, I went up on Wednesday, hitching a ride with my friend Trent who conveniently lives nearby and was also attending. It was about 97 degrees while I was packing that morning and before that I barely completed a 35-minute easy run because I was so wiped out. I took several breaks in the midst of packing from sweating so profusely. The drive up was painless and uneventful and we had excellent timing on the ferry and arrived in town after four-and-a-half hours of travel. Had a quick dinner and checked into the hotel. <br />
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Tara was the first of my awesome roommates of the weekend to arrive, with her dog Marley who would serve as room 10 mascot. He is not to be confused with my sister's Marley who we lost last September and who outweighed this Marley by a good seventy pounds. We had some time to settle in before Mary and Jennie finally arrived at like 10:30, so we could finally go to sleep to prepare for the first day.<br />
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Thursday morning we woke up in time for some breakfast and to meet up with the other campers before heading down to the water for our first workout of camp: a one-loop time trial swim. Not so luckily, the swim course is currently set up for rowing, which extended a "loop" about another 550 yards, or somewhere around there. The water was fantastic and I wished I had brought one of my now-illegal skinsuits instead of my wetsuit since the wetsuit is starting to show its age and I didn't really need it to keep warm, and all of that on/off is not going to help it from a longevity standpoint. <br />
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Anyway, we all lined up in the water ready to take off in a mass start of about 29 of us and then it was time for some good, hard swimming. Coming off Ironman Texas last month I am not exactly in prime shape, and as usual, going as hard as I possibly can isn't really my specialty, so it was certainly a challenge, though a good one. I stayed on someone's feet, finding out at the turn that it was Trent, which I decided were good feet because we've raced together a lot and I am pretty sure he has always beat me out of the water, so I pretty much followed him the rest of the way. Thanks, Trent! I finished three seconds behind him, about seventh I think among all of the swimmers in our group. Also, toward the end I did, in fact, feel like I might throw up, so I decided I definitely paced it correctly. <br />
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After that we all headed back to change into bike gear for another hard ride, a time trial on the old out and back. We rode back down the back side of the bike course, which I'd never done before. Certainly it is downhill but nothing like the infamous descent on the course itself. Also, the road was in pretty terrible condition for this stretch, so we had to be careful. It was incredibly warm out during this ride, so I was not upset to find out that the time trial was only 4.1 miles and not entirely uphill.<br />
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We lined up in the order we'd finished the swim and took off in intervals based on where we finished the swim. So if you finished ten seconds behind the person in front of you, you took off ten seconds after they did. That was kind of fun. It started off pretty painlessly with some downhill and then flattened out before moving up. Did I mention I'm not good at all-out efforts? I reached a point of maximum oxygen deprivation and just felt like I was almost hyperventilating and couldn't go any harder toward the end, so that was not my best performance, but still fun in that weird sort of way that we all find training like this "fun." Then all we had to do was ride back and then hit the roads for some running.<br />
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I was feeling pretty beat up and given the heat I didn't think I'd get much out of an actual run, so instead I ran to the lake and then hopped in the water with Mary and Charlie to do some water running. Charlie is forced to water run due to injury and Mary and I were simply there for moral support. If you've ever been forced to water run it is possibly the most boring activity on the face of the planet. But water running with a couple of friends in Mirror Lake on a beautiful day isn't such a bad thing. <br />
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We had a tiny bit of time to get ourselves together before our pizza dinner that night to load up for our big ride the next day. There was a sports nutrition talk that night but a few of us headed back early to get some work done and get in bed early since we are pretty well versed on the Core Diet. I'm pretty sure I slept well that night, having gotten used to sharing the bed with Marley curled up near my legs. <br />
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Friday morning we were up, well, as late as we could get up while still making it in time to grab something to eat before our easy one-loop swim in the lake. It was much more pleasant without the feeling like I was going to throw up thing going on. Then it was time to hop on the bikes to ride the course. I opted to ride with the middle of three groups given that my super-speediness on the bike in Texas had all but completely vanished, so I knew I was not going to be keeping up with the big guns. The loop was even slower than I expected and I had to skip a bit the second time around in order to not wind up riding way longer than planned. Given that I pulled into the hotel parking lot after exactly six hours of riding, I'd say I did a pretty good job. <br />
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I had ridden with people off and on, stopping often to fuel up thanks to Courtney and her wonderful QT2 van with Marley riding shotgun. The weather was mostly nice, although the second time down the descent it was raining which is sort of painful when you're moving 45mph, but it didn't last too long and the sun came out again later. The day was topped off with a little run and finally I was able to relax... for a very brief period of time before we had to head to dinner.<br />
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I guess I should mention that Friday also happened to be my birthday. Now, I don't make a big deal about my birthday. I think in the past ten years I've had a birthday cake twice, maybe. A couple of times I may have literally not seen anybody. Or sometimes I'll meet friends to swim or something and they have no clue, which is fine. Four years ago I did the exact same thing on my birthday, riding the course in Placid when I was up training with friends. The thing is, somehow people always find out. That time it was because my cousin called me to say happy birthday while we were eating lunch and someone heard just enough to be able to figure it out. This time, while my birthday isn't listed on facebook, all it takes is one person to say it and for that person to be friends with a lot of the people who happen to be up at camp with you and the word spreads. <br />
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Mostly I wasn't even thinking about it being my birthday. I forgot about it myself most of the time. It was only the second birthday I've had without my dad, and if I skim the calls my cell phone has received I can still see the time he called me on my birthday in 2010. I thought of him a lot when I was up there. He watched me race all seven times and might have loved the town even more than I did. The last time he was there he and my mom were talking about maybe coming up for a winter getaway. It's just too bad they didn't get to do it. <br />
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Anyway, upon finishing the run, Courtney was the first one to mention the birthday since she had spent much of the day on social media since she didn't have much to do aside from wait for a lot of tired and thirsty athletes to refuel before moving up the road another twenty miles or so. And then as we were walking to dinner Trent, thanks to having seen my mom and a few other people post on my facebook wall, told my roommates as we walked down to dinner. So, the secret was out. Oh, well. I'm just not the kind of person who wakes up on my birthday and walks around screaming it to the world. <br />
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Dinner was up the road at the Dancing Bears, a restaurant at the High Peaks resort. Fajitas never tasted so good. Afterward I was surprised with a birthday, um, bowl of fruit with a candle embedded in the strawberry. Yes, it's QT2. To be honest, having been so stuffed with fajitas I'm not sure I would've been able to handle cake at the time, anyway. I'm also pretty sure that's the first time I've been sung happy birthday since I turned 18. <br />
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So then it was time to head back for the general Q&A with the coaches before going back and getting into bed. I think it was difficult to even hold my head up at that point. Oh, but I did get to use our awesome Norma-Tech recovery boots and those felt great. I'd just need a bigger pair for my freakishly long legs. Fortunately, Saturday was a much lower key day. In fact, workouts didn't even start until 9:30. Our standard morning routine was for Mary to get up way before any of us and Marley to bark a bit at her and get all riled up before leaving his spot between me and Tara on the bed to go lie on Mary's pillow next to Jennie. The rest of us would stay in bed until the last possible moment. I am sure I was up pretty late. <br />
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First up Saturday was two loops in Mirror Lake. Again, these were long loops so it was more like 5600 yards than 2.4 miles. But I could practically swim all day in that lake, so I had no issues with it and the hour and twenty six minutes didn't feel like it was that long. I did feel exceedingly hungry afterward, though. We had a bit of a break after that where we got some lunch and got to wonder when it was going to rain, because it was definitely going to rain. I had a little bike fitting with Jesse and we moved my saddle forward just a tad, but that was it. There wasn't much reason to change anything else. That's always a good thing. <br />
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It was pouring rain and thundering at that point, at which time we were supposed to be doing our ride. I also had two athletes racing the next day who I had to get in touch with so I had to make sure I was available until we finally connected, so that made the afternoon a bit sketchy. I'll be honest and say that I didn't ride. In the grand scheme of things, me missing one recovery bike ride, my strongest sport, five months out from my next A race is probably not a huge deal. So I chose not to worry about it. I got my work done, kept Marley company, had my phone calls, and then went out for the run, which is always the thing I need to spend more time on. Running around Mirror Lake is pretty pleasant.<br />
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It's funny though because many times throughout the weekend I also thought of racing there in 2006. There are definitely a lot of vivid memories in my head from that day. The marathon on the out and back, coming to the top of Papa Bear with all of the spectators, seeing my dad when I got off the bike in T2, running out of transition and taking the lead. I really need to figure out how to get somewhere near that again! Not necessarily winning races, just maybe actually having a reliable run again. <br />
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Anyway, after that it was once again time to get cleaned up and I got a great deal on a new swimsuit before it was time for my pre-dinner massage. Courtney made me want to cry, but she just casually talks to you while inflicting the pain as you try and pretend you're fine. It was probably a good thing, though. Dinner was some delicious chicken, veggies, salad, sweet potatoes and some other random stuff. And that night was our mental fitness talk. I really, really almost fell asleep during that. Not because it's a bad talk, but simply because I was exhausted! That night we didn't talk much before going to sleep while Tara stayed up working a ton. <br />
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Then it was time for the last day. No swim, but easy bike and long run. It was a chilly morning and I opted to run first. I did that because I felt as though I'd be better off surviving the run first rather than trying to get through it as the last thing of the whole weekend. That, and frankly it is not really enjoyable to me to run on the same course at the same time as a whole bunch of people running way, way faster than I am. This leaves me with approximately zero running partners but maybe sometime in the future I'll be able to run with some people again. <br />
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But, it was a beautiful, cool, sunny morning in Lake Placid and I could run around the lake a few times without too many people in town, although the lake was crowded with tons of swimmers. There were definitely a lot of camps in town. I finished up in time to pack up my stuff and move out of the room since we had to be out by 11:00 thanks to a horse show. <br />
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Once packed and ready I hit the road for my easy ride which was quite nice, especially since I could just ride with some of our runners and chat with everyone. Before we knew it, camp was over and we had some time for lunch before hitting the road. But not before one last little stop at Starbucks with my roommates and Trent who designated himself as an honorary member of room 10 and we parted ways about 3:30. We made it to the ferry with good timing and it was as crowded as I've ever seen it. I actually was worried we wouldn't get on, but thankfully we did. Then just the rest of the super boring ride down 89 and I was home at 8:15. Not too bad. <br />
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Somehow I had a hard time sleeping last night, but I did manage to get up this morning to meet some people to swim at Glen Lake. It is definitely not Mirror Lake but at least it was warm and I didn't need my wetsuit and the bacteria levels warning had been lifted. It was a good day for some rest because not long after the swim it started raining and pretty much didn't stop the rest of the day. <br />
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So it was an awesome time with some great friends and a good way to kick off the real training for the second half of my 2012 season. I am officially confirmed for Ironman Arizona in November. I recall hating that race, but I do know I can race well there and I know the course and the timing is right, so, there aren't a lot of good reasons not to do it. I'm sure I'll be okay with the fact that the bike course is the most boring on the Ironman circuit as long as I remind myself how fast it is and that the last time I raced there I won my age group by an hour. Not a bad precedent. <br />
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Okay, almost time for bed because it's another big training week ahead!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717235805488504319.post-28690611395776653032012-06-06T10:55:00.000-07:002012-06-06T10:55:17.011-07:00Mooseman Spectator Report and What Happens NextThis past weekend was what I often feel is the official kick-off to summer triathlon season in New Hampshire: Mooseman. After the original Mooseman in 2004 this race moved to Wellington State Park in Bristol where it has been held every year since 2005. I raced the half in 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 and last year and the Olympic distance in 2010 since it was a tad too soon after Ironman St. George. The point is, this was my first time not racing. Not once during the weekend did I wish I was. <br />
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No, that is not because I don't like racing and don't want to do another triathlon. That is definitely not the case. Two weeks after Ironman Texas I certainly was not in racing mode yet again and the weather was... less than desirable. The weather in New Hampshire in June is sometimes quite pleasant. But there is something about this race that attracts either incredible heat and humidity or torrential rain and cold. It's very rarely anything in between. 2005 was blazing hot, 2006 was really cold, 2008 I think the pavement was on fire, in 2010 you would've been better off keeping your wetsuit on the entire race. <br />
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So this year as race weekend approached, while the weather was absolutely gorgeous in the days leading up, just in time for registration the rains moved in along with awesomely cold temperatures. Nothing like having to wear a heavy jacket in June. I wisely opted to skip spectating on Saturday at the Olympic. It rained all day long. My friend Trent came up to stay at the Zahr lake house and we went over to the QT2 dinner in Bristol with an exceptional amount of athletes. The team has expanded so much I feel as though there are more people I don't know than do know at this point. Being a non-racer I was just about the only one without a plate of pasta and chicken in front of me. <br />
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The other nice part about not racing? I didn't set an alarm that night. I knew I was going to watch but under the circumstances I figured there was no reason for me to be there to sit in the rain and watch people come out of the water. I woke up a little after 6 and fortunately Trent was already long gone so no worries about him missing his start or anything. The good news was that it actually wasn't raining. The even better news was that a quick look at the weather radar showed that it really wasn't going to be all that rainy that day. The temperatures weren't going to get out of the 50s, but cold and dry is a hundred times better than cold and wet. So I took my time getting ready and then hit the road. <br />
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Given that I had some extra time I stopped off for some breakfast at a little local diner I've always loved and had a really good veggie omelet and arrived at the race site about 8:15. There was some drizzle as I pedaled my bike in from my really-far-away parked car, but other than that, it was basically fine. Oddly, it took me a very long time to run into anyone I knew. I watched some people heading out on the bike before heading over to see some of the slower swimmers come out of the water. Given that there was nothing else to watch really at that point, I opted to stay and watch the final swimmers come out. It's sort of amazing to see the circuitous routes some of these people take. Not that I haven't been one of them in the past. It's also pretty cool to see how immensely thrilled some of these people are just to get through the swim. Two guys came in together (note that every single one of those slower swimmers I saw were men!) and just made the cutoff and a couple of minutes later one last soul came in and unfortunately had to be told that his day was over. But the guy would take like ten swim strokes and then stop and "rest" by treading water in place for like ten seconds before continuing forward. If that was his entire swim strategy then he might want to consider at least doggie paddling in a general forward direction while he "rests" so he's at least continually making progress.<br />
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Anyway, after that I just kind of wandered around some, looked at the expo and stuff, because the bikers wouldn't be back for a while. And even after the first biker came back it was like ten more minutes before the second one came in. That bike course is so challenging that everyone is really pretty spread out, but slowly people started to come in, including plenty of QT2 jerseys right up front. I don't think I saw anything particularly exciting. I will say that transition was basically a swamp, so that was kind of amusing. And actually watching people come out of T1 quite a few of them would walk out and put their shoes on after they were out of transition and there was even a person with a hose standing there to spray people's feet off. Yes, things were messy. But again, at least it wasn't raining!<br />
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I think at some point there in spite of the lack of rain it actually got colder outside. Great running weather, though not so great for biking. Eventually I went over toward the finish line to watch people come through which is always fun. Lots of very solid performances there including by two athletes I coach, which is always nice to see. Especially since this was the first race I'd coached them through. Trent had a good race in spite of having been stopped on the bike course for a bit due to an ambulance and a bike accident. I hope nothing too terrible happened there. Then it was just watching more and more friends come through. <br />
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Sometimes I can't believe how long I've been racing and I remember my first few years not knowing anyone when I'd go to a race. I think I'd have to go race in Switzerland or something at this point if I didn't want to run into anybody. It's always fun though to run into people at races. And eventually it was time to get out of there. That is of course another perk to not racing and certainly not getting awards, you can leave whenever you want!<br />
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Last year this race was basically the end of my season. I had had a disappointing race in Oceanside, a really bad race in Florida including a foot that kept hurting and I didn't know why, and then I went out at Mooseman knowing things weren't going to go well. It was the second race I'd ever had to drop out of, although the first one I knew going in I'd have to stop before the run because I already knew I had a stress fracture. After a terrible bike ride I ran three miles and finally said to myself, something is definitely wrong with that foot. So I stopped. And an x-ray some days later told me that I was not imagining things and I was sentenced to the boot for the entire summer. So, anyway, let's just say I'm in a better spot this year. <br />
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All right, so, what's next for me? For the first time ever, I didn't have a whole line-up of races planned out. After IMTX I had no plans. Zip. Zero. Honestly, a couple of months ago I was wondering if I'd even wind up racing at all again afterward. My USAT membership needed renewing in March and I usually renew it for two years just to delay the hassle a bit, but I opted for one because, well, I wasn't sure if I was going to need it beyond that. Who knew what was going to happen? <br />
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The best possible outcome was another trip to Kona. That obviously didn't happen, and that's ok. I finally had to start thinking though about what I might want to do next. Right away I went into overdrive thinking up a few crazy ideas. Mooseman had 25 slots to Lake Placid. Maybe I could get through that and get a Placid slot and qualify for Kona and race there again. I knew that entire plan was ridiculous, but it was hard not to at least consider it briefly. Jesse would certainly never let me do that. <br />
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Another thing I discovered was that Ironman Louisville was still open. In the past I felt as though you'd have to pay me to do that race, run in that weather and, most importantly, swim in that disgusting water. But suddenly it all sounded like a great idea. Three months. I can be ready in three months, right? Well, Jesse didn't like that idea either, really. And the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. I mean, not only is it turning around and doing another Ironman pretty quickly, but if the whole point was simply to get to Kona again, I'd then have to turn around and do yet another Ironman six weeks later. Yes, maybe that's not the best idea. <br />
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So, I'm trying something new. Being patient. I'm not going to lie and say it's really easy. A big part of me is still sitting here thinking, but if you just get your act together you can do it <i>now</i>. Okay, that may be true, but at what cost? Where is that going to leave me for 2013 and beyond? Admittedly we all have a finite amount of time to be elite athletes. I can't pretend that there will always be enough time because unfortunately, that's not actually true. But at my age another year is not going to make or break me. Craig Alexander and I share the same birthday... except he's six years older than I am and he seems to still be doing pretty well. <br />
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So instead of scrambling to try and barely make it through the season and maybe or maybe not make it to race Kona for 2012, I will be ending my season with an Ironman, it just won't be in Hawaii. Where has not been 100% finalized, but it will be at a point in time in which I can perform to my own standards. Those standards are pretty high, but given another five months or so it will be amazing what I can do. I'm sure in October I'm going to feel a little sad that I am once again not racing on the Big Island. It was 2009 when I last toed the start line and 2007 the last time I finished the thing, so you can see why it might be tough for me to be patient. But being patient now will pay off a whole lot more in the long run. <br />
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Given the late season plans there is a lot of room for some racing over the summer and I am quite happy to say that it appears that every race I do between now and October will be in my home state and involve me waking up in my own bed. Not bad. Next up is Black Fly in Waterville Valley, an international distance and a race that I've always wanted to do but it never quite fit the schedule. After that most likely I'll be doing a small, independent half ironman at the end of July in Enfield. How small? Well, last year there were 49 people who raced. But hey, maybe I can finally get my elusive half ironman win. I've won a sprint, Olympic and an ironman but haven't quite nailed one of these, yet. If things go well and only about nine women show up maybe I can finally hit for the cycle. After that I get to finally race Timberman again. Yay! I raced it eight years in a row and it was my first half TEN years ago, so it will be nice to go back after my little hiatus for 2009, 2010 and 2011. Then there is yet another small, new half ironman over by Sunapee in Semptember. I don't know how or why so many of these races have sprouted up in my tiny state, but I'm not complaining and am taking advantage. <br />
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So, a busy but fun schedule I'm certainly looking forward to. Entry fees on some of these smaller races are certainly kinder and gentler. As is the lack of flying. It is really nice to be excited about racing again instead of sitting around worrying just how bad the next personal worst is going to be. Very pleasant change of pace.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0