Goodbye, Marley

That is a picture of an adorable golden retriever puppy exhibiting some of his tireless energy.  It was taken ten years ago and up until a little over a week ago the same dog could usually be seen doing pretty much the exact same thing, except he was a lot bigger.  I don't have my own dog.  I haven't since my old childhood dog Shannon died while I was in my last semester of college, at the ripe old age of 13-and-a-half. 

My sister and my brother-in-law adopted Marley just a few months later.  They had just moved into a new house in New Hampshire from their suburban first-floor split level rental in Malden.  Jeff's parents never let him have a dog, and Katy grew up mostly having a dog in the house.  So they found a litter of puppies, picked out the one with the orange thing tied to his collar because he was the one who followed them around the most, and brought him home.  I used to "babysit" him when he was a puppy and before they even had kids for me to babysit for. 

They went to the effort to train him and for the most part he was an obedient and easy-to-live with dog.  I don't ever recall hearing of him chewing anything up.  They never gave him people food so he never expected it or tried to steal it off the table.  He never tried to run away because he just loved being around his people so much. 

His only bad habit was that he went absolutely bonkers anytime anyone new showed up at the house.  Now, he didn't bark or jump up on people, he'd just run up to you and sort of spin around in circles, step on your feet a couple of times and maybe eventually sit on your feet and pretty much convulse because he was just so happy to see you.  Most of us had adapted our own version of the Marley defense stance to prepare for his imminent, ecstatic greeting.  Except of course if his "dad" was home, in which case he would do his best to pretend he wasn't going to launch himself at your feet but you could tell it was taking every ounce of his control to remain somewhat calm. 

In spite of his craziness he usually wasn't completely out of control.  This is his baby sister, Moira, when Marley was only about a year and a half old.  To be fair, once the kids got older he'd been known to accidentally knock them over in a fit of running in circles all over the house in the excitement of a new visitor.  We all thought that once he got older he might calm down a little.  He never did.  If anything I swear two weeks ago when I went to watch my nephew and Marley came to meet me at the door he was even more crazy than usual.  He did always eventually calm down though so you could visit in peace, it was just the initial greeting.

In fact, about three weeks ago we were at the lake house and my brother had had some friends stay over after a nearby wedding, and when Marley arrived with my sister and there were six new people in the kitchen he was just running all over the place and sliding all over the wood floor, so excited and undecided as to which person he wanted to say hi to first since he was so overwhelmed. 

When Marley was about three, we became neighbors, so I got to see him a lot.  It was great, having lots of the benefits of having a dog without all of the responsibilities of having a dog.  I'd see him outside when I ran by and of course he was there every time I visited them.  He would also sometimes sleep over if his family was going away for a night or two. 

He was a lot of fun when they brought him to the lake when all of us were there.  He learned to love jumping off the dock into the water, which he would only do really if someone else was in there and he seemed to think they needed "saving."  Except one time he went up in November and jumped off the dock in his excitement and I'm assuming the shock of that one meant he wanted to see a human enjoying the water first to make sure it was warm enough.  Just last month I was outside with Marley and my niece and nephew watching them blow bubbles and watching Marley put in extensive effort to try and 'catch' every single one. 

He even went on the boat and enjoyed standing up front and catching the wind in his face.  That all ended when my dad bought the Chris Craft in 2006 and Dad was not that interested in having a dog in his nice, new boat (to be fair, the first week we had it Dad promptly spilled a huge cup of coffee all over the rug) but he still loved the lake. 

He loved to eat snow being shoveled, too.  I guess he did have one other flaw, and that was he was awful on a leash.  I mean, you could go almost anywhere with him and he'd stay right by your side, but if you put a leash on him all he wanted to do was pull you around.  To demonstrate this, last year when I picked him up to watch him Timberman weekend my sister told me to just look at him there in front of us, not going anywhere, perfectly content.  She clipped the leash to his collar and immediately started pulling her to the end of the driveway.  It's like he assumed having the leash on Timberman expo that afternoon on my way to the lake house.  My arms were sore the next day from reining him in. 

He had a gentle leader, which any other dog owners probably know is a leash that actually attaches to the dogs' snout.  It looks sort of like a muzzle, so once or twice when I brought him hiking with me and would pass people coming in the other direction they would assume he was vicious and it was keeping him from biting.  I don't think Marley ever bit anyone.  But at least he couldn't pull the leash too hard. 

As Marley got older, his fur got whiter and he looked a lot older but we always talked about how he just wouldn't slow down.  He was still as excited as a puppy and never had any physical problems.  So last week when my sister mentioned he hadn't been eating and wasn't feeling well I didn't think that much of it.  I was going to ride with Katy and Jeff to this open house thing at my brother's office last week so I went to their house to meet them and my mom was going to watch the kids. 

Upon my arrival, Marley did not immediately rush up to greet me at the door.  Katy and Jeff were still upstairs so I thought maybe he was up there with them.  Then I saw Moira in the kitchen and walked in to see Marley lying on the floor in the doorway to the next room, barely lifting his head to see what was going on.  Immediately I knew there was something drastically wrong with him.  He eventually decided to stand up and come see me and my mom, who might have been standing three feet from him and he had a terrible time standing, an even worse time walking to us, and his feet were slipping out from underneath him as he struggled just to sit at our feet.  He all-but collapsed. 

My sister came downstairs and said he had gotten dramatically worse just since that morning and it was decided that he would go to the vet that night.  I didn't think he'd make it until morning if he didn't see someone right away, although looking at him even then I figured this was probably it.  It was about 5:15 and he got an appointment at 7 so we went to the open house and my mom was going to take him in and we'd meet her there.  It took a minute or so to drag Marley to his feet so he'd go outside to pee, which he finally did and it was basically rust-colored which also of course did not seem to be a good sign.

When we arrived the kids were sitting in the waiting area and I sat with them while Katy and Jeff went in to my mom and Marley.  They had no idea what was going on and they asked me really important questions like, "Was Indiana Jones based on a true story?"  And, "Do you think anyone has ever built a real lightsaber?"  The minutes ticked by and I pretty much knew once again that this was probably it. 

Then my mom came around the corner with tears in her eyes and said, "Do you want to come say goodbye to your dog?"  Moira, who is 9, couldn't believe it.  Conor, who is 5, really had no idea what was going on and actually provided some much needed comic relief by blurting out random, funny things to ease the tension during this difficult moment.  My sister mentioned something about him going to sleep and Conor said, "He's gonna sleep here?"  And my mom said, "No, he's going to heaven with Papa."  

Marley was still just lying on the floor looking so sad and in pain.  He was almost like a zombie, not really that interested in being petted, not wagging his tail at the attention.  I never had to say goodbye to a dog before.  I petted him and then Moira came down to pet him and then Conor blurted out, "What, just pets and no huggies?"  So Moira gave him a hug and then Conor got down on the floor and gave him a hug, still really not showing any sign of knowing what was really going on and then me and Mom took the kids home while Katy and Jeff stayed with Marley in his final moments. 

Apparently he had liver failure.  Possibly he had cancer and a tumor that caused it, but it doesn't really matter.  It was amazing how quick that happened.  Like I said, less than a week earlier I'd been there and Marley was his usual, jubilant self.  Flipping out when I got there and making it very difficult for me and Conor to play Operation when he went to lie down on top of the game board.  He ran up the stairs when we went up there, ran down when I was leaving.  I suppose it's good that he didn't suffer long, and it wasn't one of those on the fence thing where you're not really sure if he still has some quality of life left, but still, it was an amazing shock.  We all expected to see him start limping around a bit in his old age before something like this happened. 

So Marley is gone and almost the minute we left the vet and weren't even in the car yet Moira asked, "Can we get a puppy?"  No word yet on any decisions there.  Probably a bit too early to jump into things.  It was so strange though to go over there for dinner the next night and not have Marley come rushing to greet me at the door.  Although for once I didn't have to contemplate which clothes to wear over there that I would not mind getting covered in dog hair and/or possible dog drool.  He was a great dog and we'll all miss him a lot. 

How cute is that puppy?  Anyway, I know this blog has become a serious downer.  Training starts officially next week and hopefully I'll have other things to write about that are more in the spirit of why I started writing this in the first place.  It's a long way to Ironman Texas and we can probably think of the next seven and a half months as my last chance workout.  Almost time to get serious!  Although I will say that this morning when it was pouring rain and dark and there was even a thunderstorm going on I did not so much mind not having a workout that I absolutely needed to get done. 

A Fresh Start... Again.

It is crazy to me to think back and realize that it has been five years since I had my best season, and how badly I squandered things after that.  Sure, it wasn't entirely terrible, but I brought personal worsts to a whole new level over the past two years.  The worst part?  It is entirely my fault.  I really can't blame anyone else.  And as hard as it is to admit it, much of my demise was probably preventable.

Sure, there have been a few injuries and those are really going to happen no matter what.  But it's how badly I let them get to me that made them effect me that much worse.  My first major issue in 2008 had me out of running for six weeks but I let it completely destroy me mentally and even somewhat physically and the repercussions lasted far longer than that initial period of not running.

For a very long time, I was the person who would never miss a training session.  I'd get up at crazy hours to run 20 miles before work, spend most of every Saturday on my bike, get on the trainer at 3:30 in the morning to get a ride in before getting on a plane, plot out what I was going to eat day after day.  I didn't make any excuses because I wouldn't have accepted them as legitimate.  And you know what?  My performances were the result of this dedication.  I'll admit that I was completely surprised by a lot of the things I had suddenly become capable of doing, because in a way it sort of seemed "easy" to me.  Just do the training like you're supposed to, sleep and eat well, have a great race.  It's really not that complicated and there isn't some magical quality that fast people possess aside from unwavering determination.

After I had my breakthrough year, I think I got a little scared.  How could I top that?  It was so far beyond anything I had even dreamed of accomplishing.  "Winning" Lake Placid, seventh in my age group in Kona, riding away from the field like biking was the easiest thing in the world and even somehow managing to run well.  I decided right away that there was no way I could top it.  So I started training and racing that way.  Well, I can't do any better, so I don't really have to try as hard, right?  The decline was very slow, but it was certainly there.

Aside from my injury, I still did the training, but I stopped taking care of myself otherwise.  Weight started to pile back on which made me feel like more of a failure after having worked so hard to shed the years' worth of evidence of my teenage addiction to Doritos and Pepsi.  I didn't take action, I simply gave up.  And like I said, the race performances showed it.  I remember how I used to show up at race start lines feeling like I'd done absolutely everything that could be done to have the best race possible.  Suddenly every single race I showed up at had me feeling like a kid who forgot to study for a final.  There's nothing you can do at that point but fake your way through it and accept the inevitable of your failure to prepare adequately.  Sure, I could still finish races, but I didn't get into this just to cross finish lines.  If I did, I certainly wouldn't train so much.

So we all know that earlier this season I had to drop out of Mooseman because my foot was bothering me.  My foot had been bothering me since at least Mother's Day, but it didn't really hurt enough for me to think much of it so I just altered my run stride a bit.  Then I found out it was broken.  I was pretty much out for the summer.  Oh, and out at least $1000 worth of race entry fees that might as well have been flushed down the toilet.

A lot of other years this sort of news would have been devastating to me.  I cried when I found out I had a stress fracture just two weeks before Kona in 2009.  I cried on the run I was on in 2008 when my back brought me to a screeching halt.  This time, instead of getting upset about it, I decided to treat it like a good thing.  First, it would keep me from having what I knew were going to be a series of disappointing races over the summer.  I just wasn't in a position to do well.  Second, it gave me a reason to stop training for a while.  And I mean really stop.  Not the couple-week break at the end of the season, not a break from running but continuing to swim and bike like crazy, but to just completely and totally stop.  Sure, I swam and rode here and there, but there was no set schedule.  I did what I wanted when I felt like it.  I slept in pretty much every day and stayed up past 10 on a regular basis.  I participated in family events without going home early because I had to train early the next morning.  I only had to do about 25% of my normal laundry amounts.  I didn't have pressure on myself about coming back as soon as possible.

do have time and as long as I do all of the little things I'm supposed to do, I can be back on track.  Ironman Texas is eight months away.  That is a pretty long time.  But the work does need to start.

So let's just pretend that I didn't squander the last two years and maybe just train like there's no way I can fail.  I've got friends I used to train with that I haven't been able to because I got way too slow, and it'd be nice to be able to train with them again.  I'm hoping to spend the next month slowly getting back on track, still without a schedule and still without running because I'm not there yet.  But biking, swimming, lifting, elliptical, just generally starting to get into a regular routine again.  Then hopefully I'll talk to my incredibly patient coach, Jesse Kropelnicki, and we can pick an official start date.  Three years ago he brought me back from the dead.  I dug myself a similar hole this time, and hopefully we will both be able to bring me back again.

So here's to hoping that my blog will now turn back into updates on my training and how things are going well.  Oh, but if only my Garmin 310XT didn't shatter last weekend after falling off my wrist during the race :(

One Year Later

I apologize for the lack of updates.  I promise once my entire life gets back to normal (which I'm hoping will be very soon) I will put blogging back on track.  But for now, sitting around and not training and staring at my booted left foot doesn't make for interesting blogging.

All right, instead of working chronologically, I'll start off with the fact that somehow today is one year after my dad died.  I haven't seen or talked to him in a year.  It seems unbelievable both that it has been that long and even still that it happened at all.  It still feels like some sort of horrible dream that I've yet to wake up from.  The only problem is that for the past 365 days I've awakened to the reality of not having my father with us anymore.

While the year was not without a few bright spots, it's probably safe to say that it was the worst year ever.  I've been told that the first year is the hardest and I am sincerely hoping that is the case.  This past Saturday night, after dinner my mother, brother, sister and I took the boat out and spread some of Dad's ashes over the lake.  We didn't go far, Mom told me to stop a ways out but just make sure that he could still see the house.  Afterward we spent about an hour just talking, just the four of us.

While the circumstances surrounding that evening were obviously horrible, it's probably pretty rare that any family, even one as close as ours, takes the opportunity to just sit and talk for a while, just those of you who grew up under the same roof.  We all felt pretty much the same.  We've all been pretty well checked out for the past year.  So I apologize to anyone who I may have alienated in any way or just not seemed like myself, I just found it difficult to muster up enthusiasm for much of anything.  And everyone else who was on that boat with me that night felt the same way.  We're hoping that it can bring some form of closure and the beginning of what can maybe be a much better year.  It seems unfair that all that we can really do is move on, but that's just the way it goes.

My mother has been amazing through all of this.  As much as I know it hurts me to miss Dad there is the added knowledge that Mom doesn't have him anymore.  You often hear how marriage is work, but my parents made it look like the easiest thing in the world.  A chance meeting at a bar in Boston turned into a relationship that spanned over forty years without any significant road blocks.  Obviously they loved each other, but they also just genuinely liked each other and enjoyed spending time together and just talking.  I even said to my mother on the boat that the two of them set an impossible standard for marriage and my unmarried brother agreed.  How do you replicate something like that?

Mom reaffirmed that everything I perceived about them was true, and that is a good thing.  She also told us how proud he was of all of us, even though when she first married him he apparently took a bit of convincing on having kids at all.  Hard to believe that someone who was such a great dad wasn't really that interested in the job in the first place.  It was a nice evening and thanks to our house guests who let us abandon them for a bit and even cleaned up after dinner.

I had feared the summer as a whole was going to be awful, given that that was where Dad really thrived, driving the boat, riding his bike, golfing, just enjoying life in general.  I inherited the job of boat driver and did my best at trying to get my brother and sister competent at navigating the lake and which side of the buoys to drive on so as not to destroy the propeller on some rocks.  I got to drag the kids behind the boat on the tube and saw why Dad always seemed to have so much fun seeking out waves and trying to send the kids flying.

So to be fair, we did have some fun this summer, though there was no denying there was something missing.  It wasn't really until the last couple of weeks of August that I really started thinking about it.  Mostly that that time last year everything was totally fine and I had no idea that everything was going to change and I'd never see my father again.  We talked about him often, though, mostly the good memories.

Labor Day weekend was especially difficult although we purposely involved some major distractions.  We had quite a few visitors up on Saturday, and in spite of me still being relegated to the boot, I decided to do a triathlon on Sunday morning.  You see, last year the Circle Triathlon, the race just down the road from the lake house, was the last race that Dad saw me do before he went out that afternoon on what turned out to be his last bike ride.  He never went out in the afternoon, but he came to my race instead of riding, putting that off until later.  He zipped up my wetsuit before I got in the water and cheered me on even though I was terribly slow and it capped off a dismal tri season from a performance standpoint.

The nice thing was that this time there was no pressure to perform.  I'd been riding for two weeks after having two months off along with swimming a bit.  I really only had to make it through the first two parts before I walked the last portion.  Most unfortunate was that my Garmin fell off my wrist at the very end of the bike, the strap separating itself from the watch itself, and the screen is now shattered from being run over.  Also racing was my cousin Jeff, the other Zahr triathlete, although he hasn't done a whole lot of races.  Of course it would've been fun to have beaten him even with the boot but I couldn't pad my lead enough with the swim and bike and he passed me on the run.  Next year, Jeff.

I got a lot of funny looks but probably more cheering and encouragement on the run as I walked along in the boot.  It was 2.7 miles, not exactly an incredibly long way to go, though the boot did leave me some nice blisters.  I will say it was a lot easier than walking the entire second half of the marathon at Ironman Utah last year.  I crossed the line way behind where I normally would have, and while most of my family was there to witness it, it was certainly obvious that there was something missing.  And that afternoon as time moved on, I would think about how at noon last year after the race things were still fine.  Everyone went home and I was just watching TV before my mom came upstairs to get me at 3:15, crying.  It is just still so amazing to me that things can change so fast.

The rest of the week has been something like that, too.  Thinking back to last year and spending every day in the hospital just wondering what might happen.  I'll admit that from the beginning I had held some sense of optimism that at some point Dad would wake up and we'd have him back, even if it would take a lot of rehab to make him so that he could ride his bike again.  Mom knew from the beginning.  While today is the day that his heart stopped beating for good, she still considers September 5th to be the day he died.

I sometimes think about how if this were a movie, that death would've just seemed totally unnecessary.  We didn't need to lose someone to bring our family closer together.  We didn't need for him to die in order to realize how amazing he was or how much we should've appreciated him.  But unfortunately in life sometimes stuff like that just happens.  And I will say that as much as I hate what happened, since then I've certainly heard of worse tragedies.  Young fathers, kids, mothers, daughters, whatever.  As unfair as I feel it is, I do know that things could've been a lot worse and I'm incredibly grateful for the time that I did get to spend with him.  I just wish it could've been longer.

So now begins a new year.  Each one will hopefully get a bit better although I doubt there will ever be a time in which I'll be able to think of him and not wish he was still here with us.  Whether it be any major life events or just watching the first Patriots game of the season.  Working the grill on a random Saturday night, driving the boat while I fall asleep in the front, taking me skiing and of course being there at the finish line of my races.  I do hope that I can cross a few more finish lines in the future knowing how happy he would've been to see me do so well.  I don't think I will ever lose the vivid memory of how excited he was when I was leading and then crossed the finish line as the first female in Lake Placid.

As an abrupt segue I will now mention that as of Tuesday's x-ray I am finally boot-free.  There is still a fine line in the x-ray and I've not yet been given clearance to run, but I can wear matching shoes, I can bike, swim, lift, walk, even elliptical.  I'll be honest and say that while it was frustrating to basically miss an entire season, it was probably a good time for it to happen.  I think I needed the break in more ways than one.  It took me a little longer than I thought it would to really want to train again, and I think I'm finally there.  I also got to spend much of last week with my best friends from college who I never get to see anymore thanks to a wedding, and not being able to train gave me an excuse to not miss time with them for training and wearing the boot to the reception gave me a solid excuse not to show off my complete lack of dance skills.

So this is it.  A year later, a lot of changes and a lot of unfortunate firsts.  But I'd just once again like to say that I've got an incredible family and I know we don't say it really, because we know anyway, but I love you guys.  As great as my dad was my mom is equally amazing and we are handling it as well as we are because of her.  My aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone has been great.  And thanks to my friends, some of whom came out of the woodwork after not having seen me for years.  Every note, card, bunch of flowers, bit of food, visit, hug, phone call, e-mail, comment and even facebook "like" meant a lot to me.  Losing Dad sucks either way, but it certainly makes a difference knowing I/we have so much support.  So just know that it is greatly appreciated.

We still miss you terribly, Dad.  Even though sometimes it feels like we just saw you yesterday.  While I know we can't have you back, we can at least try and continue to make you proud.

Day Sixty-Three of My Captivity...

It's been two months since Mooseman, when I ran three miles of the course before deciding that whatever was wrong with my foot could no longer be ignored.  It was another two weeks before I got an x-ray to confirm the fracture but I haven't run since I stopped at the medical tent just past mile three.  I'll be honest and say that I probably needed a break.  From the beginning of this I've tried to look at it from the perspective of me having been training hard since 2002 without ever taking a real break.  And I mean more than a couple of weeks.  So maybe this was just what I needed to be completely mentally and physically refreshed.  Admittedly I took a pretty significant break last fall, too, but the circumstances surrounding it didn't really make it feel like the refresher that I probably needed. 

So I've been doing a whole lot of not training.  The timing worked out that there have been some family events that might not have otherwise been enjoyed as much by me due to having to go to bed early to get up and train the next morning or being exhausted from another seven-hour workout day.  Also, for a while it was an exceptionally hot summer and I certainly didn't wish that I was out running when it was 98 degrees out.  Not to mention the fact that my laundry loads have diminished by approximately 300%. 

But, wow, am I ever sick of this!  I had another x-ray last week that showed that the bone had barely improved in the last three weeks.  I'd fully expected to be good to go by now.  And yet it continues.  You know, when your entire day is really built around whatever workouts you have to do it's like losing your identity when suddenly you can't really do anything.  The most annoying part is that it's one, stupid little bone that doesn't even really hurt that much.  And yet it has essentially ruined an entire season. 

So while not training all the time I instead have to get overly introspective and panicky about what the future holds when/if I finally do get to start training again.  I realized it has been two months since I last ran which is a new record for me since I started running regularly a little over ten years ago.  It took me five years from that starting point until I got to being a fairly decent runner for that very brief period of time in 2006.  I don't have another five years to wait, yet it feels as though I'm going to be starting from scratch again.  I get jealous now when I see people out running, though.  I don't even remember what it's like anymore to return from a run all tired and thirsty and sweaty. 

With the season pretty much shot I had one last race I wanted to do.  It's hardly anything, really.  A tiny sprint with no awards, mostly first-timers, one you can show up to like twenty minutes before the race and still be okay.  I can sleep in my own bed and ride my bike to it in less than fifteen minutes without breaking a sweat.  Old mountain bikes dusted off from the garage and baggy shorts are far more the norm than race wheels and aero helmets.  A quarter-mile swim, a twelve-mile bike and a two-and-a-half mile run and that's it. 

So why do I care?  It's not that it's easy and close by.  It's that it's the race my dad came to watch the morning before he went off and got into his bike accident.  He was there early and he zipped up my wetsuit for me before high-fiving me as I went off to get in the water.  He smiled at me anyway even though it capped off my worst ever triathlon season (until this one, I just keep on "improving"...)  We were even going to go to dinner that night to cap off Labor Day weekend.  It was my last real experience with him, although I did see him heading off on his ride later that afternoon.  So it makes me feel like I really need to do the race again.  Just recently the race organizers posted a bunch of pictures from last year on facebook and there was one of some spectators waiting for the bikes to come in.  And there was Dad, his eyes down the road, waiting longer than usual for me to come in. We can be pretty certain that that was the last picture ever taken of him.

It probably doesn't mean as much as I think it does, but I feel as though it might bring me some closure.  Sort of finish out the first, tough year after everything changed.  Now that it's August and we're closing in, I keep thinking back to the end of last summer, not knowing that those were the last few weeks I'd get to spend with my father.  I was quite lucky that I did spend that time at my parents' house on the lake. 

See, this is why I need to be out swimming, biking and running like crazy.  When I do that I'm far too tired to think about much of anything!

Ironman Lake Placid Report From a Spectator's Perspective

This past weekend was yet another Ironman Lake Placid.  The big difference this time was it was the first time I headed up there not to race.  In 2004 I went up, scared to death with no clue if I'd finished based on my own training plan, and I finished my first Ironman.  In 2005 I thought maybe I could qualify for Kona and I did.  In 2006 all I really wanted to do was break 11 hours.  Which I did... by a little over 48 minutes with a 57-minute PR.  In 2007 I returned as some pseudo reigning champ and actually got recognized.  Then I went and flipped over the handlebars before turning for the second loop, causing amazingly minimal damage, and I just kind of phoned in the rest of the race since I already had my Kona slot.  In 2008 I went in as a shell of my former self thanks to a series of injuries that kept me from doing lots of my training.  I limped to a new personal worst.  In 2009 I was in a new age group with a new coach and I saw some semblance of my old self and a finish I was finally proud of again, if a tiny bit disappointed that it still was nowhere near where it was.  After a dismal race in Utah last year, I sneaked into the race at the last minute and managed somehow to once again go much slower than I ever had there before. 

So, due to recent history, you can see why maybe I wasn't all that upset that I would not be racing there.  That, and the fact that the swim start gets more and more dangerous every year as they try and stuff more and more people on the course.  Once again, for the love of God, just because you can accommodate 3000 bikes in the transition area does not mean that it is safe for all of them to be in the water and out on the bike course!  This continues to drive me insane and I have a horrible feeling that at one of these races someone is going to die because of it.  I hope that's not what it takes for them to finally cap registration at a much more reasonable number. 

But anyway, that's not the point of this post...  So this year I headed up with my friend and athlete I coach, Kris.  My good friend, and Kris's boyfriend, Trent would be racing his second Ironman and his first Lake Placid after completing St. George last year.  We all knew that Trent was going to have a good race, and he did well as being the only one in our little group who was racing.  His parents also came to watch.  We did not arrive until late Friday afternoon, which was very strange for me having always arrived earlier, although of course when not racing, there wasn't much point in arriving sooner.  It was literally 97 degrees most of the drive up, but got much cooler as we approached Lake Placid.  By much cooler I mean like mid 80's, but still.  I swear that happens every year though, it's really, really hot and humid when I drive up, then a front moves through and race day is quite pleasant. 

Almost immediately upon our arrival we went out to dinner at Jimmy's on Main Street which overlooks Mirror Lake.  I have eaten there on every one of my trips to Lake Placid and always enjoy it.  It's just that this time I didn't have to go out of my way to stuff my face full of carbs in preparation for the race.  The following morning was the QT2 breakfast, but not before Kris and I headed down to the water for a swim.  We'd heard it might be too warm for wetsuits this year, and it certainly felt toasty in there, but nice. 

Breakfast was nice considering once again, I did not have to eat until I felt sick.  I also got to sit and talk with my athlete MaryBeth who was racing.  She lives far enough away that I hardly ever get to see her, so it was nice to get to have a face-to-face chat before the race.  I played coach some more while I went back to another hotel after that to give another one of my athletes, Shaun - who was there supporting his wife - a threshold test.  I'm sure he quite enjoyed that... or at least is glad that it's now over. 

After a quick trip to grab lunch I headed back to the Crowne Plaza to meet with MaryBeth and go over her race plan.  It was good because she didn't seem nervous at all, so we were able to just focus on what needed to be done throughout the race.  I finally made it back to my hotel at 4 and thought to myself, wow that was a long day.  Then I realized that tomorrow I'd be up earlier and certainly would not be back to the room by 4 and I felt a bit silly.  But at least I got to lie down and rest a bit before dinner. 

It was nice on Saturday night to not have to worry about what I was eating and how it would feel in my stomach in the morning and to not have to get up at 3:30 in the morning to shove ungodly amounts of applesauce down my throat.  I'll admit that after seven races in a row there, I really didn't feel as though I wished I was racing that day. 

As is almost always the case on race morning in Lake Placid, it was overcast.  It felt humid when we started walking down to the water, but while we waited a cool, dry breeze blew in and took the humidity away.  We heard that wetsuits were optional but required for anyone who wanted to qualify for Kona or get any age group awards.  If the numbers I saw were correct, roughly 20% of people actually skipped the wetsuits while 80% went ahead and wore them instead of shooting for awards.  Now, to me, if it's going to be a non-wetsuit swim, shouldn't it look like one? 

Aside from the fact that each and every year I did this race the swim got scarier and scarier, I hadn't really considered that anyone without a wetsuit in the middle of all of these buoyant people was likely to get shoved under with no life-preserver effect to bounce them back up.  Honestly, I get short of breath just thinking about it as I can certainly recall that feeling from prior years.  There is not enough room in that lake for that many swimmers.  Sure, the super fast people are going to get off the front no problem and the lousy swimmers or those who simply don't want to get caught up in the craziness are going to wait off the back, but for your average-ish swimmers who need to be aggressive enough to be in a good spot for awards but maybe aren't top age group swimmers, it's downright dangerous in there.  This was another reason I really didn't wish I was in the water with them.  It was nice to be able to breathe whenever I wanted. 

Anyway, after some waiting and watching a whole lot of bobbing heads, the cannon fired and the race was off.  It was crazy to see from a spectator's perspective.  It looked scary even from 200 yards away.  Except for the two or three people who zoomed off the front, vastly far in front of everyone.  I wonder what that feels like?  Oh, and they were wearing wetsuits.  It took several minutes for everyone to really "start" the race and cross the line, and a few people were off the back so far I swear it was like they weren't even trying to swim forward.  And literally 400 yards into the swim someone bailed and got hauled out in a boat.  I have no idea why, but that seems awfully early to quit the race.  At least try one loop. 

After watching some of the faster swimmers continue on to their second loop we decided to head over to transition to watch people come through.  I got separated from everyone as I made my way down to the fence surrounding transition so I could really see people and get some good pictures.  There was nobody there, so it was great. 

That would be QT2 teammate and coach extraordinaire, Tim Snow heading out to get on his bike in his tenth race in Lake Placid.  After that I moved to watch people come out of the tent in droves.  Everyone I expected to see earlier came out much later due to the whole wetsuit vs. non wetsuit thing.  I have heard some pretty rough stories about the whole ordeal and hopefully it is not something that will happen again.  Anyway, I kept my eyes open for all of the QT2 people and was still pretty much by myself except for this one other woman.  After literally about 45 minutes of spectating there some security guy told us we had to leave.  I have no idea why it mattered at that point, but I went out onto the street and ran into my friends Kevin and Leslie, AKA the rest of Trent's supportive fan club. 

We did some sitting and some more sitting and I started to see how this whole spectating thing might be a better deal than racing.  I was sporting my awesome boot over my broken-foot-that-will-not-heal and got to stumble around lopsided all day long, but it was far less uncomfortable than I expected.  The sun was out and eventually we abandoned our lovely couches inside the Golden Arrow and went up the hill to where the bikers would come through to turn for the second loop.  Eventually we got in touch with Trent's parents and Kris and had to describe where we were.  Our easiest frame of reference is, "Okay, do you know where Molly crashed her bike?  Yeah, we're up the hill from there." 

 Here are Leslie and I spectating at the top of the hill.  Kevin was nice enough to leave the boot out of the picture. 

Here is Trent looking all serious and focus before he hit the second loop.  Apparently he didn't even notice us even though there were six of us and we were all screaming for him, but whatever. 

We got to watch everyone come through, looking good.  Trent was right on pace.  After watching the throngs come through, we decided to go and get some lunch.  Again, why did I not think of this spectating thing before?  Instead of Powerbars and gels on the go while riding and running I could sit down and eat a sandwich?  Yes, please.  After that it was hard to believe that runners would already be coming out.  Me and the boot started walking back to the run start.  That was my nickname all weekend - Boot.  Did I mention I'm tired of having a broken foot?

The lead runners were far and away ahead of everyone, due to both the fact that of course they're pros and faster than most, and that they had a 10-minute head start. 

We snagged a nice spot on the run course that was both where the run started and where they came back around mile eleven, and above is TJ Tollakson in the lead and on his way to his first Ironman win.  It was fun to get to see the different ways people run out of T2.  It's very apparent who is going to have a good run.... and who probably isn't. 

This is Trent smiling and waving as he begins the run... way too fast.  If not for the uniforms, a QT2 athlete can always be spotted by the banana in their hands out of T2.  He was pretty much on even pace for the second half of the bike from what we could tell and looked to be in a good spot.  Actually, any and all QT2 athletes we saw coming down that road looked good and not at all like any of those people who had obviously biked too hard. 

This is my athlete MaryBeth, running her way to a Kona slot in her second Ironman. 

We stayed in that spot for a while before we decided to move on to somewhere a bit less crowded where we might be able to sit down for a bit.  Trent's parents and Kris stayed there and Kevin, Leslie and I wandered over to where the QT2 tent was on the short out-and-back by the lake.  Or to where we thought it was.  After a very convoluted route and lots of crossings, we discovered that the tent was on the other side of the road from where we thought it was.  There were serious fences preventing us from getting over there so we had to walk way down to cross and then come back by going up and over this hill.  It seems silly to be irritated by that sort of stuff while these people were doing an Ironman, but come on, I was in a boot and Leslie is recovering from brain surgery, so give us a break! 

We had the tent to ourselves as apparently most of the rest of the QT2 crew was down at another spot.  We got a lot of good cheering in there, along with a lot of good sitting in the shade.  Mary Eggers stopped by briefly to say hi and introduced us to a friend of hers.  He asked me again what my name was and I told him, and then he said, "This is going to sound really weird, but do you kind of kick your heel out when you pedal your bike?  I think I went back and forth with you a bunch of times here two years ago."  Yes, recognized for my funky pedal stroke.  I really need to fix that.  I've probably been remembered for much worse.  Although I used to get remembered for having "won" there.  I swear, walking around town now in the state I'm in I feel so far removed from that it's as though it wasn't even me or it happened in another lifetime or something. 

Anyway, the spectating continued and we had a great view of the athletes from there.

This is Trent about to start the second loop.  He ran the first one a tad too fast but fortunately still held it together for a great marathon.  This was just before Leslie asked him if he peed on the bike and he had to admit that he pulled over twice.

There's Brian Hughes, owner of Fast Splits in Newton and another member of the QT2 team.  I didn't really want to leave our lovely little spot, but eventually it was time to make our way back toward the finish line.  At least this time we knew the more direct route.  We had seen the winners come through, TJ and then Heather Wurtele for another win.  You know, the last time she was an age grouper she finished 20 seconds in front of me in Kona.  We seem to have followed different improvement paths since then. 

We caught Trent coming up the hill just past mile 24, definitely looking like someone at mile 24 of a marathon, and then we headed over to the finish line to watch him come through.  This is where the boot got tricky, when trying to walk on slopes.  Trent finished in 10:19 which was pretty much dead on his goal time.  Tim Snow of course had been the first QT2 athlete to come across.  A whole bunch of others followed soon after, pretty much everyone having great races.  I waited and saw MaryBeth come through, also pretty much right on goal time.  Her run was questionable going in because she's had some issues but she toughed out a 3:55 marathon after running like four times in eight weeks and getting 6th in her age group and that Kona slot. 

We made it back to the hotel and went down the road to the Dancing Bears lounge to sit outside and enjoy a celebratory meal.  Trent was still getting around pretty well.  Then I got to actually enjoy some sleep after an Ironman race.  If I race I can never sleep because I'm so pumped full of caffeine and sugar from the day.  Not much to do the next morning except head over to rolldown which seemed almost more chaotic than usual.  All of the slot allocations were changed because of the wetsuit wearers and non-wetsuit wearers.  Your slots would be determined by the number of eligible athletes in your age group.  Far more 40+ people wore wetsuit than those younger, and even though those age groups had the most participants they lost a bunch of slots.  In the end I think my age group had something like six slots, which is crazy.  I don't think any women's age group ever gets that many anymore.  Anyway, Trent did not get his slot, but a slot in the women's 35-39 age group rolled way down since they told everyone rolldown was over and then came back ninety seconds later and said they had one more.  Someone is very happy they stuck around because a whole lot of names were called before it was claimed. 

Anyway, then it was time to leave Lake Placid behind for another year.  I did not sign up for next year.  It was strange to be there under such different circumstances.  I had lots of fun and just enjoyed the moment, but looking back it's interesting to think about all of those other times going up with my parents and finding them in their little spot before the race, seeing my mom when I went to get my bike in transition - and last year making sure I did not continue down the wrong row.  The two of them at the top of the hill by the lake as I came around to finish the first loop, my dad always right there when I got off my bike and headed into T2.  Then of course seeing them on the run course and at the finish line.  Of course I can especially remember seeing them in 2006 and their reactions then.  Even though I've enjoyed being a spectator and gotten used to it at this point, I do hope someday to get out and race to my potential again.  Unfortunately another x-ray on Tuesday showed that my foot is healing incredibly slowly.  So you can imagine the frustration.  So if anyone has any secret special ways to make bones grow back together (isn't there some Harry Potter spell or something?) that would be great.  I've been bad enough at running the past two years even when I was training.  It's been two months without running now.  I may be 45 before I get it back again.  I don't think I have the patience for that.

Nana is 90

7-11-21.  Some lucky numbers, right?  Also that would be Nana's birthday.  She turned 90, although whenever we'd tell her that her birthday was coming up she'd ask us what year it was and then try and do the math and figure out how old she was going to be.  She was so shocked one of the times I reminded her that she said, "I guess I can no longer deny being an old lady."  Nana is not a fan of being thought of as an old lady.  When she was in her early 80's she had cataract surgery that left her with perfectly clear vision for the first time in years.  One she got her first good look in the mirror, she immediately went out and bought wrinkle cream.  I'm sure those things work great as a preventative, but I'm not sure they can turn back time thirty years.

My Nana is the greatest grandmother ever.  Don't even try to compare.  She never knitted or sewed us anything, she really doesn't cook anymore, (although she did make the best mashed potatoes in the history of the world, as well as the best potato salad) and she doesn't shower us with money or gifts.  Much better than that, she's just a great person to be around.  She almost always can be found sitting at the head of the table at the breakfast room in her kitchen, overlooking that peaceful, serene intersection of Wallace Road and Route 101.  I suppose when they moved into that house in 1957 it was peaceful and serene, though now it is anything but.

My grandmother grew up in South Boston near the beach, although she will tell you that she doesn't know how to swim.  I think I've heard the story dozens of times about the mean woman who used to throw her in the water, and this must've happened in the 20's. 

I could tell a ton of stories I've heard over the years, but I'll try and give you the condensed version even though we all know that's not my strong suit.  My grandparents were married in November of (I'm fairly certain) 1944.  Katherine Pucci was now Mrs. Leo McLaughlin and I sincerely doubt that they had any idea of the legacy they were going to create.  My mother was only the beginning.  They lived in a house on Sunset Hill Road in West Roxbury until my grandfather bought an old farmhouse in Bedford, New Hampshire without Nana even getting a look at it. 

Nana goes in cycles of stories she tells me.  Sometimes she tells me a bunch of times about the mean woman who threw her in the water, sometimes she tells me about her brief attempt at smoking cigarettes at the insistence of her friends that left her so horribly sick she decided that maybe it wasn't the best idea.  But recently she's started telling me about when they moved up to Bedford.  A big, white house with enough room for all of the kids, a huge field in the back and twenty acres of land all for $28,000 in 1957.  She likes to tell me how she thought she was moving to the edge of the world because there was hardly anything around.  There's a lot more there now, but that was where she raised her ten kids. 

I have no idea how she managed to raise such a household with her five daughters, five sons, dogs that came and went, and other kids surely coming and going.  I'm not sure I even want to imagine what that must've been like.  By the time she had her tenth kid she wasn't even forty.  I'm sure it helped that the back yard was a vast field with woods beyond, so everyone could just go outside.  The field got a backstop and a mound and turned into a baseball field, and eventually they put in an in-ground pool, which at the time was something not a whole lot of people had.

She raised those kids and eventually those kids had some kids, and some of those kids have kids.  All in all, if my math is right there are currently thirty-four people whose lives she is directly responsible for.  And literally in days that number is going to reach thirty-five.  That's a heck of a lot of people.  We are down one because my aunt Rosie died in 1994, on Nana's 73rd birthday.  I can't imagine what it must be like to look around and see all of these people that wouldn't be here without you.  I'll let others be the judge as to whether or not our family's existence is a good thing or a bad thing...

I've spent every Christmas at her house and most of my Thanksgivings.  Most of my childhood summers were spent meeting up with my cousins at her pool.  You see, of all of Nana's kids, most of them didn't go very far.  In fact, several of them built houses right on that land that they bought in the fifties.  We refer to it as the compound, which I thought was a new name until I recently discovered an old family newsletter my grandfather had written that included that title, and in it was mention of how my mother was going to have another baby - my twenty-nine-year old brother. 




So many of my memories are from her kitchen, whether they be holidays or just a random Saturday for lunch or a Sunday night dinner.  My parents had their wedding reception in that back yard, and so did a few of my other aunts and uncles.  My sister had hers there and next summer my cousin is going to have his. 

She almost always has a smile on her face and has no shortage of visitors.  But she's also really good at reading people and she can tell if someone probably shouldn't be bothered with.  She may not be able to tell you what day of the week it is most of the time but she's still one of my favorite people to just sit down and talk to. 

Here's a picture of her at her 90th birthday with her "little" sister, Peggy.  (who is 88)

Nana is the one on the right in pink.  Her party was a great success, good times had by all and I think she was more amazed than anyone at how many people were there for her.  I loved the look on her face as we all sang Happy Birthday to her.  And in spite of her typical memory not being able to tell you what she had for lunch, like, five minutes after she finished it, a few days later she was still talking about what a great party it was.  So I'd say it was a winner. 

So happy birthday, Nana.  We all love you!

Fourth of July Weekend

This was the first fourth of July weekend since 2003 in which I was not roughly three weeks away from racing in Lake Placid.  It's been two weeks and I'm tired of my stress fracture and, in a bizarre twist of events, actually want to go for a run, but this weekend at least I was able to look on the bright side of not having to do a whole bunch of crazy workouts, getting up at the crack of dawn to get things done and avoiding tempting treats at parties.  That's not to say I'm eating like a pig, either, but I don't feel intense guilt if I eat a brownie for fear that I just added 3 minutes to my Ironman time. 

The weekend was spent mostly up at Squam Lake with my mom, my sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and brother.  Friday night was especially exciting for me because I finally got a new car.  I had debated whether or not to get a new car recently and finally it seemed like a good time.  I finally had to say goodbye to this:

 This is my 2001 Nissan Sentra.  I bought it on July 2nd, 2001, not long after I graduated college.  That was my parents' graduation "Let's learn responsibility" thing.  They helped with the down payment, and I was responsible for the rest.  This car has been through many cold, New Hampshire winters but it has also spent some time transporting me around when I lived in Los Angeles and Arizona.  I got into one car accident in it, involving an incredibly busy intersection and bright morning sun that just sears into your retinas.  Amazingly, I finished up after almost exactly ten years with just a little over 90,000 miles on it.  Based on the fact that I never had a long commute and I'm sure I probably rode my bike more miles in the past ten years than I drove.  (that's unlikely, but I bet it's kind of close) 

I bought the car originally after lots of internet research and knowing that I wanted something that was reliable, would last forever, and would get good gas mileage.  At the time gas prices had soared... to about $1.49 a gallon.  I think at first it cost me like $15 to fill the tank.  I had a few cars in mind and I remember I first test drove I think some small Suzuki that felt a lot more like driving in a really small tin can than a car, and a steering wheel that didn't adjust and did not accommodate my extra-long legs. 

Next on the list was the typical stuff:  Civic, Corolla, Sentra.  We went to the Nissan dealer first and I thought it was a good car and certainly a huge step up from the first car I test drove.  My mom came with me and she is not known for her patience.  "You like it?  Okay, let's get it."  Wait, what?  Shouldn't I try... nah, okay, let's just get it.  I'm more of a person who likes to weigh my options and make sure I'm making the absolute right decision.  My mom is more like, let's just go ahead and pick the first thing we like.  In the end, I don't think it would've made much of a difference.  Both of my parents are also terrible negotiators, and I have certainly inherited that.  They tell us the price, we just say okay.  It scared the crap out of me to be responsible for an entire car and to actually owe what seemed like a huge amount of money, but fortunately I did not have a problem paying it off.  In fact, I usually paid more than was due each month just so it would take me less time to pay it off.  I repaid a 60 month loan in 30. 

Anyway, it did just what I needed it to do.  I never had to make what I considered to be major repairs.  It never broke down.  It didn't have any strange quirks.  For some strange reason though, once the car got up there in years my mother hated me driving it.  She was convinced it was just going to die on the side of the road even though it had never done that.  But then that check engine light got pretty persistent.  And accelerating to get on the highway started to become a lot tougher than it used to be.  I'm sure that these things could've been fixed, but it had gotten to the point where the money to fix it very well could've been more than the car was even worth anymore.  Plus, I was in a unique position of having two cars to trade in, thanks to that ugly, yellow Xterra.  No offense to anyone who has one of those, but anyone who knows me can probably tell that driving around in a bright yellow, attention-grabbing car is totally not my style. 

I did some research again on small cars and a new Sentra seemed kind of expensive for what it is.  I thought about the Civic but that was sort of the same thing as a Sentra.  Then I came across this:

Anyway, Saturday we went over to Winnipesaukee for a party at a family friends' house.  They have this party every year but this was my first time going.  Usually I'm on my bike, or like last year, running a 10K race.  So it was kind of nice to just get to go and not worry about workouts or anything.  On Sunday we had some family up to the lake for a cookout and set off some fireworks and watched fireworks being set off all around the lake.  There were no "official" fireworks, but I swear, the stuff people buy now to set off themselves can be almost just as good.  One of the founders of Comcast has a place across the lake and the show they had rivaled that of many small towns.  And for once I didn't have to go to bed before the sun went down so I could be up at dawn to run or ride my bike for six hours. 

Yesterday was gorgeous weather and a little bit of teaching my brother how to navigate the lake in the boat and how to dock it (which took a few tries)  and eventually came back for yet another cookout at a friend's house.  I think I'm all partied out for now.  The good thing is that being busy all weekend didn't give us, or at least me, much of a chance to think about who wasn't here for the first time. 

So now we get a bit of a break before a huge party this weekend to celebrate Nana's 90th birthday.  Since her short term memory isn't so good, she gets amazed anytime she realizes her birthday is coming up and can't believe how old she's going to be.  Last time I was with her and she realized it she said, "I guess I can't deny I'm an old lady now, can I?"  Her birthday is 7/11/21.  Lots of lucky numbers.  Yes, this is definitely a good year to not be doing Lake Placid.  Too much going on.  And of course the fact that my foot is definitely still broken.