Motivation

This weekend I did my first sprint triathlon (COMbat Tri in Texas City... it's a well run race if you're in the neighborhood for next year). Since the distances were short by most standards-- a 300 yard pool swim, 15 mile bike, and 3 mile run-- I was pretty stoked to let loose a little and have a speedy race. My goal time was 1:16, which I thought was pretty attainable. Well, I was wrong. Turns out that sprint tris require the thing I fear most: sprinting. I rolled in after 1:25, feeling like booty but coming in 3rd in my age group. I’m so glad more 24-25 year olds don’t know about triathlons so I can still get hardware.

Let me explain about the race. Everyone gets their number by their seed time they put down for the swim. Before the start of the race we lined up by our race number/seed time around the pool, and every 10 seconds someone hopped in the pool to start. You swim up one side of the lane, down the other, and then go under the lane line to the next lane and do it over again til you’re out of lanes. If you touch someone’s feet they’re supposed to stop and let you pass, but people are generally jerks about this part. Case in point: #22, the guy in front of me. I touched his feet 1/2 way through the 5th lap (of 12). I figured he’d stop at the wall at the end of the lap so I went to the left side of the wall to do my flipturn so he wouldn't have to lose as much time while I passed him. Turns out I was wrong because that huge slow jerk (okay he’s a triathlete and therefore quite slim, but still) pulled out in front of me off the wall. I touched his feet the entire next lap and had to resort to breaststroke for most of the way down. Man, what a dick. Finally he let me pass, and I never saw him again til transition. I clocked about a 4:24 (plus 8 seconds to get to the timing pad), so not much faster than my seed time of 4:27, certainly not 10 seconds faster to catch up to him. The truth was he lied on his seed time to feed his ego. I’m still annoyed.

Anyway, the bike was out and back a few different ways along the feeder roads of a state route. The way out I was going 21 mph, pretty sweet tracks for me. The wind was at my back and I was feeling okay except for my stomach, which had been hurting/cramping since before the race. My guess is PowerBars are not the way to go for me pre-race; I’ll have to try something else next time. When I turned around to head back, however, I felt even worse because of the wind whooping my ass. I maintained about 14 mph, but it took a lot of work to do so. When I pulled into transition again, I was exhausted.

In transition the 2 turds next to me had reracked their bikes crookedly so there was no room for mine. I panicked and shoved til there was room, tossed on some running shorts and changed my shoes, and left-- without my race number. This will get you DQed in 99% of races, but I got lucky (fortunate because I didn’t notice til 1.5 miles into the run I was sans number). I was as thrilled as always to get on my feet and pass some folks like I do in other races given my crappy biking. This time was different. The essence of booty that I was feeling in my stomach didn’t go away, and I felt like I was crawling. On top of that, the slow swimmer/fast biker folks that I usually pass had started seconds, maybe minutes behind me; there was simply no ground for me to gain. Ultimately I only passed two people the entire time! I’m so lame. I crossed the finish line grateful to be done, but not with the same fatigue I'm used to at the end of a tri.

It was a tough race for me. However, I learned a lot about what I need to improve in my races, especially because I have another sprint coming up in less than 2 weeks (fortunately with a .5 mile open water swim and a shorter 11 mile bike leg). Here’s just a sample:

1) No powerbars for breakfast. They don’t like my tummy.
2) Find a good racing outfit that can go from swim to bike to run. I can’t change clothes for every leg of a sprint race, which I did for Combat. Come on, that’s so lame.
3) Save something for a great run. Most folks don’t feel swell when they hit the pavement, so why waste my energy in the biking leg of the race where I can’t make up any ground?
4) Practice my transitions, which suck.
5) Lose weight this minute. Seriously. Now. Ready, go.

On the drive home I got progressively more disappointed in myself. It’s not that I’m in bad shape or I didn’t try; I’m just slower than I want to be. This race turned out to be the thing I’d been needing: motivation to get back into serious training. It was time for action. I went to lift right after the race, then went home to plan my workouts for the next 10 days. On Sunday, I went to numb my mind at Memorial by riding around the 1.1 mile bike path 26 TIMES before I went spinning for 2 hours. At the park I got stung by the bee on the thigh, hit in the face by two more bees, AND I got passed by a mountain biking smoker on the bike path (in my defense I was warming up). Things were not going as planned. I was sour by the time I left for the Y, but I had a good workout that included a decent amount of time on my own saddle, which wasn’t unbearably uncomfortable for once. Hopefully the new non-sore ass is more of an indication than the bees of how the next four months will go. At any rate, I'm just glad to have my head back in the game, and just in time.

P.S. Did you know a bee sting will give you a huge red swollen circle on your leg? It quit hurting by Monday but it looks horrendous. I'm fascinated with it because I haven't had a bee sting in at least 12 years.

Crazy week

Last week was crazy! Why? To begin, I got up to train before work twice. That’s two more times than usual! Also, the apartment complex across the street from our complex burned down. The place had been vacated a few weeks earlier and they were in the process of demolishing the buildings, so no one got hurt. Still, it caused a huge ruckus and put lots of smoke in the air, which of course went straight toward our apartments. We couldn’t use the air conditioning for about a day, but fortunately we didn’t have any smoke damage.

It was eerie driving to the pool the next morning and seeing everything in shambles across the street. Morning walkers were poking their noses through the fence to get a better look at the destruction. Everything was quiet. You know, maybe we all need a little destruction in our lives... it sure gives nice perspective to what’s still intact. Like, for example, my healthy, loving relationship with my boyfriend AND my workout schedule. Sometimes I think I have it all.

Florida is prettier than Texas

I just got back today from a trip to see my aunt and uncle in Florida. They live in Sarasota, what used to be a cutesy artsy fartsy place about an hour south of Tampa. As with most totally awesome places on the coast, the place has morphed into this slightly depressing but still gorgeous city with towering condos and monstrous houses on itty bitty lots. I feel like my vacationer’s soul has grown up in Sarasota because my aunt has lived there most of my life, and I've visited maybe a dozen or so times. I used to want to retire there, but already I can’t afford it and have given up the dream. Besides, I’m sure the place would lose its charm without my aunt dragging me to the EcoFest or the farmer’s market or didigeridoo playing or botanical garden concerts--you get my drift. This particular weekend we spent the mornings relaxing and being family, the lunch hours exploring some fun and/or different event, and the afternoons lounging in the beach. I’m amazed at how much more whole I feel on the beach; it’s my sanctuary. I don’t know how that ever happened. I don’t have special family beach memories, and the one time I went to Easter sunrise service on the sand I was pretty damn grumpy for having to get up for the freaking sunrise. At any rate, I was thinking: maybe we have these places that make us happy or serene or vital because they’re our natural “place”. Maybe some folks are most at peace in church, in the forest, in a dark room. Maybe my great place of worship is on the sand, bowing before the waves.

Hey, just an idea.