Greyhound and I had an interesting ride this Saturday, complete with 5 used tubes and CO2 cartridges and about 3 hours of delay. Despite the challenges of the day it still beat getting rained out of like the rest of Houston was on Sunday. And it beat working. And it beat getting poked in the arm with bits of glass and metal. It also beat getting eaten by a shark, chased by an angry clown, and stepping in dog poop with both shoes. At the end of the day you just have to ask yourself: would you trade it for a cool glass of iced tea and a book? Would you trade it for having to work all dang weekend? Would you trade it for 10 pounds of blubber on your frame and high cholesterol?
Chances are you probably wouldn't. You're gonna have crappy rides and miserable runs (especially in Houston), but in the end it's worth it. And if it's not, life's too short. Find something else to do. You feel me?
P.S. Saturday's melodrama was all but forgiven on Sunday. I got in my interval workout I accidentally napped through on Tuesday and destroyed that mofo in a nice cool sprinkle. After that I met the 'Hound and we tore up the waves for an hour of open water swimming in rain and, well, thunder. Don't worry--it sounded pretty distant. And we both made it out alive, always a nice perk.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
My avatar
Many moons ago the Dread Pirate asked me about my avatar. Bloody shoes? What the heck is wrong with me? While that question may have too detailed an answer for interest, I can explain the nasty pic.
My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.
So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.
After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.
But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.
My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.
So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.
After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.
But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Um, best compliment ever
The coolest thing happened to me on Monday. I spent the past 5 days in Sarasota, FL visiting my aunt and spending time on the beaches that seem to do so much for my mental health. Since last week's Houston workouts got canned due to freakoutedness, business, and laziness, I brought along my running shoes and goggles (even I won't wear a swim cap in the ocean. I have some pride).
So Friday I swam in the Gulf. 11 minutes out, 8 minutes back, lots of sand and salt up my nose. The water was a little cloudy (did you know that's when sharks are more likely to attack?? Did you know I have an irrational fear of being eaten by a shark?!) and I'm a weenie, so I stayed pretty close to shore and just swam parallel to the beach. Despite the relatively small waves, I got destroyed.
Saturday Craig and I ran over the bridge and back. 5-6 miles. I think he was imagining ways to thow me over the edge into the shark-infested waters below.
Sunday found me at a different beach with Craig. Instead of swimming we just stood around and attempted to get our shoulders burnt (we succeeded). At one point I thought I saw a snorkel about 25 feet out from us... and then realized it was a dorsal fin. Holy shit. A dorsal fin. Oh god! There's another. And another! Three dorsal fins close enough to eat me in 4 seconds flat. I immediately spat out curse words and moved to get closer to the shore than the couple floating near us-- I had no qualms of throwing strangers to the sharks.
Then the fins turned 90 degrees and it was apparent they were dolphins. Well, at least I was only overreacting and not completely imagining things. How often do dolphins swim on your beach? Not too much in my world. Pretty cool!
But this post was not supposed to be about my vacay workouts-- it was prompted by my Monday swim. I decided a 30 minute jobbie would do the trick, and after chillin out max with my aunt, I popped on my goggles and got to work. 17 minutes out against some pretty serious (read: demoralizingly butt-kicking) waves, but I assured myself I'd catch some of the juice as a tailwind on the way back. I ended up only getting about as far as I'd gotten on my Friday swim, though I did start a little farther down the beach. At 17 minutes I retied my hair, rocketed out some of the salt water in my nose and turned back. 12 minutes later I was gratefully back to my towel.
But at 10 and a half minutes into the way back, I stopped and stood to find my aunt and our stuff on the beach. A tan old guy (on vacation? new local? coulda been either) sees me and hurriedly comes my way. "Hey, are you a competitive swimmer?" he asks.
Me: No [truth: yes? Do tris count? I figured they didn't since I didn't train in the ocean. Hey, I never said logic was a strong point.]
Old guy: Did you ever swim competitively?
Me: Yeah, I guess when I was younger. [truth: swam 10 years.]
Old guy: Well you looked amazing swimming out there. I watched you swim out against the wind and the waves and couldn't believe how strong you looked. Have you considered swimming competitively?
Me: Nah, I just really do this for recreation now. [truth: because tris don't count. And they're fun.]
Old guy: You look like you should be in the Olympics the way you swim out there! Very impressive!
And he rushed away. Wow. When's the last time someone went out of their way to compliment me? I can't even think of a time. I considered replying. "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure Olympian swimmers don't train in string bikinis" but it came to mind a second too late (and it's rude and I didn't want to alienate my only fan).
But the coolest thing to me was that I felt like a total jerk swimming out there before he came up to me. I was getting pummeled by the water and had difficulty maintaining my stroke. I imagined tanned hotties in next-to-nothing swimsuits sunning on the beach, laughing at my pathetic attempts to conquer a corner of the sea. But instead I got a sincerely nice comment from a stranger. AND I got to gross out some tourists by blowing my nose into the water.
I love vacation.
(By the way, you should think twice about your ocean swimwear if you're a chick. The first day I got lots of seaweed in my top. The second time I got chafed from the string holding up my swimsuit top. Isn't my life hard? Perhaps I should have stuck with a tri top.)
So Friday I swam in the Gulf. 11 minutes out, 8 minutes back, lots of sand and salt up my nose. The water was a little cloudy (did you know that's when sharks are more likely to attack?? Did you know I have an irrational fear of being eaten by a shark?!) and I'm a weenie, so I stayed pretty close to shore and just swam parallel to the beach. Despite the relatively small waves, I got destroyed.
Saturday Craig and I ran over the bridge and back. 5-6 miles. I think he was imagining ways to thow me over the edge into the shark-infested waters below.
Sunday found me at a different beach with Craig. Instead of swimming we just stood around and attempted to get our shoulders burnt (we succeeded). At one point I thought I saw a snorkel about 25 feet out from us... and then realized it was a dorsal fin. Holy shit. A dorsal fin. Oh god! There's another. And another! Three dorsal fins close enough to eat me in 4 seconds flat. I immediately spat out curse words and moved to get closer to the shore than the couple floating near us-- I had no qualms of throwing strangers to the sharks.
Then the fins turned 90 degrees and it was apparent they were dolphins. Well, at least I was only overreacting and not completely imagining things. How often do dolphins swim on your beach? Not too much in my world. Pretty cool!
But this post was not supposed to be about my vacay workouts-- it was prompted by my Monday swim. I decided a 30 minute jobbie would do the trick, and after chillin out max with my aunt, I popped on my goggles and got to work. 17 minutes out against some pretty serious (read: demoralizingly butt-kicking) waves, but I assured myself I'd catch some of the juice as a tailwind on the way back. I ended up only getting about as far as I'd gotten on my Friday swim, though I did start a little farther down the beach. At 17 minutes I retied my hair, rocketed out some of the salt water in my nose and turned back. 12 minutes later I was gratefully back to my towel.
But at 10 and a half minutes into the way back, I stopped and stood to find my aunt and our stuff on the beach. A tan old guy (on vacation? new local? coulda been either) sees me and hurriedly comes my way. "Hey, are you a competitive swimmer?" he asks.
Me: No [truth: yes? Do tris count? I figured they didn't since I didn't train in the ocean. Hey, I never said logic was a strong point.]
Old guy: Did you ever swim competitively?
Me: Yeah, I guess when I was younger. [truth: swam 10 years.]
Old guy: Well you looked amazing swimming out there. I watched you swim out against the wind and the waves and couldn't believe how strong you looked. Have you considered swimming competitively?
Me: Nah, I just really do this for recreation now. [truth: because tris don't count. And they're fun.]
Old guy: You look like you should be in the Olympics the way you swim out there! Very impressive!
And he rushed away. Wow. When's the last time someone went out of their way to compliment me? I can't even think of a time. I considered replying. "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure Olympian swimmers don't train in string bikinis" but it came to mind a second too late (and it's rude and I didn't want to alienate my only fan).
But the coolest thing to me was that I felt like a total jerk swimming out there before he came up to me. I was getting pummeled by the water and had difficulty maintaining my stroke. I imagined tanned hotties in next-to-nothing swimsuits sunning on the beach, laughing at my pathetic attempts to conquer a corner of the sea. But instead I got a sincerely nice comment from a stranger. AND I got to gross out some tourists by blowing my nose into the water.
I love vacation.
(By the way, you should think twice about your ocean swimwear if you're a chick. The first day I got lots of seaweed in my top. The second time I got chafed from the string holding up my swimsuit top. Isn't my life hard? Perhaps I should have stuck with a tri top.)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Life as an unironman
I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. This summer? Sucking so far. Last week I got in every workout except a 1200 quickie swim before spinning (that day I went home to be lazy and Craig miraculously got me to go to spin class anyway. Without trying. He's gifted), but I got in an unscheduled 19 mile speedy-for-mishele ride on Saturday. Success, right? I was stoked to do my weekly training summary til I added it up to be 6:05. Six hours! What a waste!
The truth is I'm lost without a $500 daylong race ahead of me. I can't function. In fact, last week I blew off my double workout one day just so I could triple up the next, a la my ironman days. What the heck is wrong with me?
Part of it is stress. I don't have anything to pour all my freakish anxiety and petty annoyance into at the end of the day except for patent registration studying, which actually puts me to sleep every night. If I could get hold of the MPEP editor, we'd have a nice little chat about repeating things more than once. But studying is not so much the "sweat out your stress" kind of outlet to which I've been subscribing. On top of that, I have pseudo tri friends now. Yes, I'm the fat one, slow one, and sometimes ugly one but I can still marginally cling to the group of h-town tri hotties (and I can still claim "the smart one!"). That sounds nice, but my lone workouts feel more like lonely workouts these days. If I have pseudo friends, why don't I have pseudo training buddies? Do they not really like me? Do they think I'm too slow? Lazy? It's absurd that I even bother letting such nonsense cross my mind, let alone occupy my thoughts in the quiet of the day, but there it is: crazy girl creeping in. I thought I drowned that witch in middle school.
Instead of grabbing a cocktail and a Lifetime movie to deal with my [imagined] problems, I'm IMing it up again. I don't like people frowning in disapproval when I say I'm taking the summer easy and getting some sprints in.... for three years. (That actually happened, by the way. At Tejas. By more than one person. Can you believe that?) I don't want to feel left out of the loop when I'm way more knowledgeable than most of the local idiot talking heads when it comes to doing an ironman, especially Arizona. But mostly, I want that iron structure back. I want to feel like me again instead of this babbling insecure creepy girl waiting by her phone instead of brazenly ignoring it when it rings. I am not myself right now.
So I'm headed to Louisville in 2008. Admittedly it's my second choice, but I simply can't secure the bones to get up to Canada the first day of law school classes (small detail) or swing a community fund slot for IM Canada. So I'm heading back (almost) home on August 24th or 31st in 2008. Maybe my family will make the measly two hour drive to cheer me on. Er... maybe not. But you know what? I really don't mind either way. I don't do this for cheering family or dri fit hats or that tri community I so love and hate-- I train for me, all me. Hopefully I can get out of 1L with some kind of fitness that doesn't resemble that of Jabba the Hutt. I'll have a solid summer to toil away my evenings bruising my hiney and chafing my chest. And I can't wait.
But this summer? I really need to study. And give kitty kisses to Gary and Lily. And get back to being normal me that doesn't give a crap if I'm riding solo or in a group or what Summer said to Austin when she was drunk last week. Just making the decision has given me a little of the peace I'm used to. Back to basics and off the crazy pills... I hope.
Louisville in 08! Now who's with me?!?!
Uh, just kidding.
The truth is I'm lost without a $500 daylong race ahead of me. I can't function. In fact, last week I blew off my double workout one day just so I could triple up the next, a la my ironman days. What the heck is wrong with me?
Part of it is stress. I don't have anything to pour all my freakish anxiety and petty annoyance into at the end of the day except for patent registration studying, which actually puts me to sleep every night. If I could get hold of the MPEP editor, we'd have a nice little chat about repeating things more than once. But studying is not so much the "sweat out your stress" kind of outlet to which I've been subscribing. On top of that, I have pseudo tri friends now. Yes, I'm the fat one, slow one, and sometimes ugly one but I can still marginally cling to the group of h-town tri hotties (and I can still claim "the smart one!"). That sounds nice, but my lone workouts feel more like lonely workouts these days. If I have pseudo friends, why don't I have pseudo training buddies? Do they not really like me? Do they think I'm too slow? Lazy?
Instead of grabbing a cocktail and a Lifetime movie to deal with my [imagined] problems, I'm IMing it up again. I don't like people frowning in disapproval when I say I'm taking the summer easy and getting some sprints in.... for three years. (That actually happened, by the way. At Tejas. By more than one person. Can you believe that?) I don't want to feel left out of the loop when I'm way more knowledgeable than most of the local idiot talking heads when it comes to doing an ironman, especially Arizona. But mostly, I want that iron structure back. I want to feel like me again instead of this babbling insecure creepy girl waiting by her phone instead of brazenly ignoring it when it rings. I am not myself right now.
So I'm headed to Louisville in 2008. Admittedly it's my second choice, but I simply can't secure the bones to get up to Canada the first day of law school classes (small detail) or swing a community fund slot for IM Canada. So I'm heading back (almost) home on August 24th or 31st in 2008. Maybe my family will make the measly two hour drive to cheer me on. Er... maybe not. But you know what? I really don't mind either way. I don't do this for cheering family or dri fit hats or that tri community I so love and hate-- I train for me, all me. Hopefully I can get out of 1L with some kind of fitness that doesn't resemble that of Jabba the Hutt. I'll have a solid summer to toil away my evenings bruising my hiney and chafing my chest. And I can't wait.
But this summer? I really need to study. And give kitty kisses to Gary and Lily. And get back to being normal me that doesn't give a crap if I'm riding solo or in a group or what Summer said to Austin when she was drunk last week. Just making the decision has given me a little of the peace I'm used to. Back to basics and off the crazy pills... I hope.
Louisville in 08! Now who's with me?!?!
Uh, just kidding.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Wisconsin-bound
I will catch you when you fall. Well, provided you do it at the finish line. Oh! And assuming it’s my turn in line. I’m going to Ironman Wisconsin in 2007, but not as a competitor (ha! As if I’ve ever “competed” in an Ironman); I’m volunteering as a finish line catcher all day. From the easy, confident stride of the winner to the hobble of the bitter 12:01 AM unofficial finisher. There will be tears. Sweat. Blood, perhaps? Oh, and puke... maybe puke. And me.
You kids are gonna make me proud. And stinky. Try not to sweat on me.
You kids are gonna make me proud. And stinky. Try not to sweat on me.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Ready to run? Tejas sprint tri race review
Tejas Sprint
600y swim/10.5 mile bike/3 mile run
Sugarland, TX 6/10/07
Ah, my first real race of the season. My training has been light, but I was so stoked to get out there on Sunday morning that it really didn’t matter if I was about to get my booty kicked. Tejas was a benchmark race since it’s the only one besides Arizona that I also did last year. I wanted to spank 2006 Mishele until the run, when I’d probably let her win; I’m still afraid to run. I’m a weenie.
Anyway, I woke up at 5 on Sunday morning and felt okay. Got to the race site, fiddled around with crap in my car, and rode down to transition which was about .5 miles from the parking lot. On the way there I ran into Lisa and Robin, local tri hotties who are also pretty speedy. We hung around while we set up transition, got our chips, etc. Good times.
Finally the race began. The swim was supposed to be a 600 yard open water swim in a decidedly nasty neighborhood lake. This annoyed me because last year was on the same course and was an 800 meter swim, but oh well-- at least I could beat my swim split from the year before. I was in the 6th wave and started in the second row of bodies. You know, it amazes me how nice all the girls are... til the gun goes off. Let the water wrestling begin! Despite the rat race I got out in front pretty early and swam about as straight as humanly possible. I felt pretty good about my line and my effort and fully expected to exit the water around 9:00, so you can imagine my disappointment when I didn't hit land til almost 12:00. What the crap? I don't do 2:00/100yd anything, not even warmdowns. I didn't fret too long though because I saw a good swimmer maybe 30 seconds in front of me in transition, so it wasn't just me being pokey.
T1. Good work. In and out.
The bike. Ah, I was so looking forward to riding. The course was an ultra-crowded out-and-back 2 loop course on new roads, a last minute change back to the crappy 2006 bike course. I stuck above 20 mph except when I was digging around for food or taking u-turns, which I royally suck at. I felt good. Funny thing though: I packed two frozen water bottles in my car that morning, one of water and one of Gatorade-- one for the bike and one for afterward. I left them both in the car, leaving me with just my aerodrink until the run. Oops! It was just as well though because I hate ingesting on the bike. Anyway, just as I started losing my focus tri hottie Lisa came breezing past me-- she's a real force to be reckoned with on the bike. The second she was out of my draft zone I chased her to T2, determined to get her on the run since I have been a stronger runner than her in the past.
T2. Super fast, despite dropping my running shoe (2 seconds) and running the wrong way out transition (4 seconds). Always room for improvement I suppose. I also tried something new dismounting: I left one shoe on the bike. Perhaps the first time trying this should not have been during the race.
The run. My once strong leg is now my greatest fear, in small part because I rolled my ankle on Tuesday and strained that tendon on the outside of your lower leg. It hurts, but it wasn't bothering me when I started running. Lisa was within spitting distance of me for about 50 yds, then she took off and I, well, didn't. Last year I negative split each mile by 30 seconds (8:30, 8:00, 7:30-- not too shabby). This year I clung to 8:30-8:40 pace, and barely. Still, my run was strong and consistent, which I guess is all I can ask right now. A funny thing happened on the run. At mile 1 there is a water station and a photographer, and it's right by transition and the finish so there are tons of folks around cheering. I saw the photographer and planned to smile, but then realized I needed water to take the gel in my hand I was supposed to down in T2. So I keep glaring, grab a water, down the gel-- and trip over the guy in front of me b/c I was drinking. All of the sudden Darlene (remember her from Arizona?) is there beside me cheering. Surprised at tripping and hearing my name, I got water up my nose, which promptly got rocketed out my nostrils. So there I am, being called (out?) by name near lots of people while water and snot run down my face. It was awesome. Anyway, the rest of the run was a pretty 3 miles (2.8-2.9 miles according to the Garmin freaks) until the much anticipated finish. Once I caught my breath I immediately removed my shoes and found my feet a painful chafe/blister party. Good to know now that I can't run without socks even for 3 measley miles. Yeck. Post-race I hung out for awhile (Craig did too), then lifted and got in an open water swim with Greyhound. I was pretty pooped by the time my head hit the pillow.
Here's the comparison from this year to last:
(I recalculated the bike and swim splits to reflect the proper distances since they aren't right on the results. In case you're one of those stalker types that checks that sort of thing.)
Improvement I'd say, especially comparing my bike split, T2, and place in the grand rank and file. Now I just need to smile for the cameras, get some run speed, and club a few girls in my age group so I place one day.
Two more posts coming up this week!
600y swim/10.5 mile bike/3 mile run
Sugarland, TX 6/10/07
Ah, my first real race of the season. My training has been light, but I was so stoked to get out there on Sunday morning that it really didn’t matter if I was about to get my booty kicked. Tejas was a benchmark race since it’s the only one besides Arizona that I also did last year. I wanted to spank 2006 Mishele until the run, when I’d probably let her win; I’m still afraid to run. I’m a weenie.
Anyway, I woke up at 5 on Sunday morning and felt okay. Got to the race site, fiddled around with crap in my car, and rode down to transition which was about .5 miles from the parking lot. On the way there I ran into Lisa and Robin, local tri hotties who are also pretty speedy. We hung around while we set up transition, got our chips, etc. Good times.
Finally the race began. The swim was supposed to be a 600 yard open water swim in a decidedly nasty neighborhood lake. This annoyed me because last year was on the same course and was an 800 meter swim, but oh well-- at least I could beat my swim split from the year before. I was in the 6th wave and started in the second row of bodies. You know, it amazes me how nice all the girls are... til the gun goes off. Let the water wrestling begin! Despite the rat race I got out in front pretty early and swam about as straight as humanly possible. I felt pretty good about my line and my effort and fully expected to exit the water around 9:00, so you can imagine my disappointment when I didn't hit land til almost 12:00. What the crap? I don't do 2:00/100yd anything, not even warmdowns. I didn't fret too long though because I saw a good swimmer maybe 30 seconds in front of me in transition, so it wasn't just me being pokey.
T1. Good work. In and out.
The bike. Ah, I was so looking forward to riding. The course was an ultra-crowded out-and-back 2 loop course on new roads, a last minute change back to the crappy 2006 bike course. I stuck above 20 mph except when I was digging around for food or taking u-turns, which I royally suck at. I felt good. Funny thing though: I packed two frozen water bottles in my car that morning, one of water and one of Gatorade-- one for the bike and one for afterward. I left them both in the car, leaving me with just my aerodrink until the run. Oops! It was just as well though because I hate ingesting on the bike. Anyway, just as I started losing my focus tri hottie Lisa came breezing past me-- she's a real force to be reckoned with on the bike. The second she was out of my draft zone I chased her to T2, determined to get her on the run since I have been a stronger runner than her in the past.
T2. Super fast, despite dropping my running shoe (2 seconds) and running the wrong way out transition (4 seconds). Always room for improvement I suppose. I also tried something new dismounting: I left one shoe on the bike. Perhaps the first time trying this should not have been during the race.
The run. My once strong leg is now my greatest fear, in small part because I rolled my ankle on Tuesday and strained that tendon on the outside of your lower leg. It hurts, but it wasn't bothering me when I started running. Lisa was within spitting distance of me for about 50 yds, then she took off and I, well, didn't. Last year I negative split each mile by 30 seconds (8:30, 8:00, 7:30-- not too shabby). This year I clung to 8:30-8:40 pace, and barely. Still, my run was strong and consistent, which I guess is all I can ask right now. A funny thing happened on the run. At mile 1 there is a water station and a photographer, and it's right by transition and the finish so there are tons of folks around cheering. I saw the photographer and planned to smile, but then realized I needed water to take the gel in my hand I was supposed to down in T2. So I keep glaring, grab a water, down the gel-- and trip over the guy in front of me b/c I was drinking. All of the sudden Darlene (remember her from Arizona?) is there beside me cheering. Surprised at tripping and hearing my name, I got water up my nose, which promptly got rocketed out my nostrils. So there I am, being called (out?) by name near lots of people while water and snot run down my face. It was awesome. Anyway, the rest of the run was a pretty 3 miles (2.8-2.9 miles according to the Garmin freaks) until the much anticipated finish. Once I caught my breath I immediately removed my shoes and found my feet a painful chafe/blister party. Good to know now that I can't run without socks even for 3 measley miles. Yeck. Post-race I hung out for awhile (Craig did too), then lifted and got in an open water swim with Greyhound. I was pretty pooped by the time my head hit the pillow.
Here's the comparison from this year to last:
| Year | 2006 | 2007 |
| Overall time | 1:17:46 | 1:11:36 |
| Swim | 13:10 | 13:10 |
| Swim pace | 1:30/100y | 1:32/100y |
| T1 | 1:30 | 1:38 |
| Bike | 37:30 | 32:15 |
| Bike pace | 16.8 mph | 19.5 mph |
| T2 | 1:26 | 0:46 |
| Run | 24:12 | 25:10 |
| Run pace | 8:03 | 8:23 |
| Age group place | 10/29 | 8/35 |
| Overall place | 317/613 | 237/629 |
(I recalculated the bike and swim splits to reflect the proper distances since they aren't right on the results. In case you're one of those stalker types that checks that sort of thing.)
Improvement I'd say, especially comparing my bike split, T2, and place in the grand rank and file. Now I just need to smile for the cameras, get some run speed, and club a few girls in my age group so I place one day.
Two more posts coming up this week!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A minute isn’t so long
Right?
Yesterday I popped in the pool for 1000 yd time trial. Naturally, this “time trial” was a loose label since I wasn’t trying to go fast. No way. I was just trying to get through it. See, I haven’t swum 1000 yards since my last race. In Arizona. Sure, I accompanied the ‘hound on a swim at Twin Lakes a few weeks back but I managed to find a tri friend to float along with for part of the swim (she was on a date with her tri hottie boyfriend--how gross is that? Seriously.) (okay fine, it’s cute. Maybe I want nauseatingly active dates. Or maybe I want NetFlix and a PBR... I can never decide.)
But yesterday I got my jiggly butt in the pool if only to remind myself I still knew how to swim. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t ugly: I was about 50 seconds slower than normal 1000 time and about 2 minutes slower than a real 1000 TT with TT effort. I was surprised I was even within a minute of my normal self since I felt like a 13 year old boy in the water--gawky, awkward, and other adjectives that use a “w” and therefore look widiculous. I guess that’s no indication of actual progress, huh?
So I’m back. Sure, my first Olympic got cancelled (good thing too since I had neither swum the 1500m distance nor run the 10k distance before since that last race). Sure, my calves now shake when I walk, which is slightly disgusting. But I’m riding this weekend with my enthusiastic if slightly frightening tri buddy. I’m lifting tonight. And Tuesday? I went to track to have my ass handed to me so bad that I still felt sick from the effort 2 hours later. Yeah, it’s that bad.
But don’t worry, I’m not getting carried away. 10-15 hours a week for the rest of the summer TOPS. No more long swims. No long runs (truth is I’m still afraid to run and break myself again. I’m clumsy that way). No 50 mile ultramarathons this fall and no ironmans (ironmen?) this summer. Just me, trying to stay in shape and de-jiggle my calves. And maybe get some buff guns to show off in sleeveless getups. And maybe get that TT back below 14 minutes where it belongs.
So no, I guess minutes aren't so long. But neither is the tri season. Time to hop back in the game.
Yesterday I popped in the pool for 1000 yd time trial. Naturally, this “time trial” was a loose label since I wasn’t trying to go fast. No way. I was just trying to get through it. See, I haven’t swum 1000 yards since my last race. In Arizona. Sure, I accompanied the ‘hound on a swim at Twin Lakes a few weeks back but I managed to find a tri friend to float along with for part of the swim (she was on a date with her tri hottie boyfriend--how gross is that? Seriously.) (okay fine, it’s cute. Maybe I want nauseatingly active dates. Or maybe I want NetFlix and a PBR... I can never decide.)
But yesterday I got my jiggly butt in the pool if only to remind myself I still knew how to swim. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t ugly: I was about 50 seconds slower than normal 1000 time and about 2 minutes slower than a real 1000 TT with TT effort. I was surprised I was even within a minute of my normal self since I felt like a 13 year old boy in the water--gawky, awkward, and other adjectives that use a “w” and therefore look widiculous. I guess that’s no indication of actual progress, huh?
So I’m back. Sure, my first Olympic got cancelled (good thing too since I had neither swum the 1500m distance nor run the 10k distance before since that last race). Sure, my calves now shake when I walk, which is slightly disgusting. But I’m riding this weekend with my enthusiastic if slightly frightening tri buddy. I’m lifting tonight. And Tuesday? I went to track to have my ass handed to me so bad that I still felt sick from the effort 2 hours later. Yeah, it’s that bad.
But don’t worry, I’m not getting carried away. 10-15 hours a week for the rest of the summer TOPS. No more long swims. No long runs (truth is I’m still afraid to run and break myself again. I’m clumsy that way). No 50 mile ultramarathons this fall and no ironmans (ironmen?) this summer. Just me, trying to stay in shape and de-jiggle my calves. And maybe get some buff guns to show off in sleeveless getups. And maybe get that TT back below 14 minutes where it belongs.
So no, I guess minutes aren't so long. But neither is the tri season. Time to hop back in the game.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Well what the heck am I supposed to do now?
Ironman? Finished. Law school? Decided. Jewel Quest? Beaten.
And uh... Harry Potter? As finished as I can be.
I'm mad and I'm gonna rant. Brace yourselves. I am completely addicted to Harry Potter. He's like library crack! I can't get enough; I even dream about him almost every night after I've been reading about him. He's like a real person to me! Unfortunately, I underestimated him and started reading the books in March "to relax." Now I have to wait three whole months to read the seventh book. (Don't ask me the book names. I get them very confused and just call them by their numbers.)
I could have put the first, second, or third ones down, but I didn't. Once I hit the fourth one I knew I was screwed. Back then I thought, "Harry Potter has to die in the seventh book. How could a kid with such an amazing story live a normal life after Voldemort?" A reasonable argument til I got to the end of the sixth book. Then? His death was a thing of beauty, an inevitable end to a wondrous tale. As the story continued through its current endpoint, though, his death would be melodramatic, hackeneyed, absurd. I'm annoyed because I'd bet $17 he's going to die in a particular way, which I won't share at the moment. I'm also annoyed because I don't think J.K. Rowling can write. Hello? Must we use "stride" as a verb on every single page? What's wrong with marching, stomping, walking, stepping, tramping, treading, or even trudging? Not only does she overuse it, she incorrectly uses it as well. And can't we think of synonyms for "brightly" and "flatly"? I have one thing to say to you, honey: Shift +F7. For crying out loud!
And the characters? I have to admit I'm getting tired of them. Hermoine's a tattle-tale, Ron's a whiny baby (despite getting plenty of attention in book 5 I might add), Ginny's a little on the easy side, and Harry's temper is pretty tiresome. Dude, someone needs to beat the crap outta him in hopes he'll get some patience and maturity knocked into him.
And don't get me started on the editing. You'd think that publishing one book a year would give you sufficient time to freakin proofread what was written. Rowling is obviously not to blame for this of course, but Scholastic is. I rarely notice typos in anything I read-- maybe one typo per 1000 pages would be a nice non-scientific estimate. Rowling's books have about 3-5 per book that I notice; surely there are more. If someone who's somewhat oblivious to details (well, for an engineer at least) notices that many errors, your book pretty much sucks. Yeah, I'm talking to you Scholastic.
Perhaps you're indignant that I'm criticizing such an acclaimed writer. Maybe you're smugly skimming my words, rejoicing at every written inadequacy I've provided you. Well Mr. Meanie-head, I'm writing a blog I thought no one was reading, not publishing the highest-rated/fastest-selling/greatest book ever.
Despite the things I so loathe about the books, I still love Harry Potter. Maybe I got past the first book because I'd seen the movie, which was surprisingly well done. Maybe I love a world of magic like every kid does. But I'm pretty sure that, bad adjectives and annoying characters aside, it's one of the best stories I've ever read. Details woven from one book to the next with characters that no human should ever be able to imagine-- it's breathtaking. It's art. It's addictive. I know I have to allow for some melodrama, some annoying brats, and some poor use of language because they're children's books (though "damn" and "hell" do appear in book 6-- I was mortified of course). And whether I want to or not, I'm waiting anxiously for July 21st. Actually, I'm waiting til my library has a copy of the book because I think there's nothing more idiotic than purchasing books that are popular and therefore available from the library. Be honest-- for the most part you're never reading the crap you buy more than once and you're cluttering up your house.
Anyway...
If Harry dies, I will be so pissed. In fact, I'll be forced to mentally rewrite the ending in my ultimate quest for peace. I don't want Harry to be Jesus or the young priest from The Exorcist, nor do I want Voldemort to continue on like Satan in The Omen. I want closure, happiness; frankly, I think I've earned these things as a reader for getting through the 3000+ pages to get to this point.
Now off to find something else to do with my time... :(
And uh... Harry Potter? As finished as I can be.
I'm mad and I'm gonna rant. Brace yourselves. I am completely addicted to Harry Potter. He's like library crack! I can't get enough; I even dream about him almost every night after I've been reading about him. He's like a real person to me! Unfortunately, I underestimated him and started reading the books in March "to relax." Now I have to wait three whole months to read the seventh book. (Don't ask me the book names. I get them very confused and just call them by their numbers.)
I could have put the first, second, or third ones down, but I didn't. Once I hit the fourth one I knew I was screwed. Back then I thought, "Harry Potter has to die in the seventh book. How could a kid with such an amazing story live a normal life after Voldemort?" A reasonable argument til I got to the end of the sixth book. Then? His death was a thing of beauty, an inevitable end to a wondrous tale. As the story continued through its current endpoint, though, his death would be melodramatic, hackeneyed, absurd. I'm annoyed because I'd bet $17 he's going to die in a particular way, which I won't share at the moment. I'm also annoyed because I don't think J.K. Rowling can write. Hello? Must we use "stride" as a verb on every single page? What's wrong with marching, stomping, walking, stepping, tramping, treading, or even trudging? Not only does she overuse it, she incorrectly uses it as well. And can't we think of synonyms for "brightly" and "flatly"? I have one thing to say to you, honey: Shift +F7. For crying out loud!
And the characters? I have to admit I'm getting tired of them. Hermoine's a tattle-tale, Ron's a whiny baby (despite getting plenty of attention in book 5 I might add), Ginny's a little on the easy side, and Harry's temper is pretty tiresome. Dude, someone needs to beat the crap outta him in hopes he'll get some patience and maturity knocked into him.
And don't get me started on the editing. You'd think that publishing one book a year would give you sufficient time to freakin proofread what was written. Rowling is obviously not to blame for this of course, but Scholastic is. I rarely notice typos in anything I read-- maybe one typo per 1000 pages would be a nice non-scientific estimate. Rowling's books have about 3-5 per book that I notice; surely there are more. If someone who's somewhat oblivious to details (well, for an engineer at least) notices that many errors, your book pretty much sucks. Yeah, I'm talking to you Scholastic.
Perhaps you're indignant that I'm criticizing such an acclaimed writer. Maybe you're smugly skimming my words, rejoicing at every written inadequacy I've provided you. Well Mr. Meanie-head, I'm writing a blog I thought no one was reading, not publishing the highest-rated/fastest-selling/greatest book ever.
Despite the things I so loathe about the books, I still love Harry Potter. Maybe I got past the first book because I'd seen the movie, which was surprisingly well done. Maybe I love a world of magic like every kid does. But I'm pretty sure that, bad adjectives and annoying characters aside, it's one of the best stories I've ever read. Details woven from one book to the next with characters that no human should ever be able to imagine-- it's breathtaking. It's art. It's addictive. I know I have to allow for some melodrama, some annoying brats, and some poor use of language because they're children's books (though "damn" and "hell" do appear in book 6-- I was mortified of course). And whether I want to or not, I'm waiting anxiously for July 21st. Actually, I'm waiting til my library has a copy of the book because I think there's nothing more idiotic than purchasing books that are popular and therefore available from the library. Be honest-- for the most part you're never reading the crap you buy more than once and you're cluttering up your house.
Anyway...
If Harry dies, I will be so pissed. In fact, I'll be forced to mentally rewrite the ending in my ultimate quest for peace. I don't want Harry to be Jesus or the young priest from The Exorcist, nor do I want Voldemort to continue on like Satan in The Omen. I want closure, happiness; frankly, I think I've earned these things as a reader for getting through the 3000+ pages to get to this point.
Now off to find something else to do with my time... :(
Hero worship
I’m going to be honest with you (big shock there). I don’t put much stock in starry-eyed adoration of good/professional athletes. Come on! They’re doing a job! They’re living the dream of the rest of us, something a lotta folks would give a lot to do. Sure, professional athletes are total badasses, but I regard them the same way I do people I work with who are competent: with basic respect. (My one exception: the OF who stole my heart with one of his characteristic saves--Jim Edmonds. Maybe he’s old and maybe he’s overpaid but he is a big hunka man. Delicious.)
I think it’s a lot easier to be amazed by fellow age groupers, fast or not. It’s not easy pulling a good training schedule out of your ass with work, home, and family to juggle--we all know that. But still, somewhere in the back of my mind I still think “So? I can do that too.” Again, there’s one exception: George.
I went to college with George. We drank a lotta beers together, so it goes without saying that we had a lot of good times. After college I picked up triathlon and George’s blog. He picked up ironness well before me, and he amazed me with his ability, determination, and desire to improve. George became my hero. On top of being awesome himself, George saved me the money I would have had to spend on a coach while I was learning how to train, how to eat, how to strive for awesome… thanks dude.
Here’s why I’m sharing all of this with you today:
http://georgeschweitzer.blogspot.com/2007/04/boston-marathon-race-report.html He PRed in Boston last week with a 2 freakin 50. 2:50.17. for 26.2 miles. He nearly even-split a non-even-splittable course. He dug through 20,000+ runners to whoop some serious ass. Unbelievable!
He also did Chicago last fall, PRing (at the time) there. THEN, like 2 weeks later he ran the NYC marathon sick, puking his guts out before the race and only drinking water for 26.2 miles. Only water. In a marathon. Maybe I underestimate my real- and internet-world companions, but I don’t think there’s a single person I know who could do that. Not one.
Except, of course, my hero. Congrats George!
I think it’s a lot easier to be amazed by fellow age groupers, fast or not. It’s not easy pulling a good training schedule out of your ass with work, home, and family to juggle--we all know that. But still, somewhere in the back of my mind I still think “So? I can do that too.” Again, there’s one exception: George.
I went to college with George. We drank a lotta beers together, so it goes without saying that we had a lot of good times. After college I picked up triathlon and George’s blog. He picked up ironness well before me, and he amazed me with his ability, determination, and desire to improve. George became my hero. On top of being awesome himself, George saved me the money I would have had to spend on a coach while I was learning how to train, how to eat, how to strive for awesome… thanks dude.
Here’s why I’m sharing all of this with you today:
http://georgeschweitzer.blogspot.com/2007/04/boston-marathon-race-report.html He PRed in Boston last week with a 2 freakin 50. 2:50.17. for 26.2 miles. He nearly even-split a non-even-splittable course. He dug through 20,000+ runners to whoop some serious ass. Unbelievable!
He also did Chicago last fall, PRing (at the time) there. THEN, like 2 weeks later he ran the NYC marathon sick, puking his guts out before the race and only drinking water for 26.2 miles. Only water. In a marathon. Maybe I underestimate my real- and internet-world companions, but I don’t think there’s a single person I know who could do that. Not one.
Except, of course, my hero. Congrats George!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The Grand Canyon is big.
This was a surprise to me. Sure, it's "Grand" and all, but honestly-- how big could it be? Well, there's a reason there're no good pictures of the Grand Canyon. It just doesn't fit on film.
But you can't blame a girl for trying; here's a shot down Bright Angel Canyon:
After the awards ceremony Monday Craig and I drove 4 hours north to stay one night at the Grand Canyon. We left sunshine and 80 degree temps to go through some snow showers and cool breezes in the park. Crazy!
Anyway, we checked in our hotel, took the trail around the rim for about 2 hours, and picked up some dinner before crashing mightily into bed. Unfortunately, I'm the biggest altitude baby there is and at 7000 ft I was sucking wind and pulling out the inhaler what felt like every 5 minutes. It sucked a little.
Tuesday morning Craig and I got up at 4:30 to take a Sunrise Tour. We'd brought sweatshirts for the cold weather, but we weren't prepared for the chill before the sun could warm us up. We were chilly willy:
But despite the tour guide's bad jokes and the cold wind (omg could the wind just freakin stop already?), it was well worth it to finally see sunrise. Again, pictures don't do a bit of justice to the experience, but they're a nice little symbol of what we saw.
Finally, once the sun came up we could de-hood. Not that it made us any more photogenic:
Once the tour was over we got a hearty breakfast in the lodge, then headed down the Bright Angel trail. As soon as I saw the Canyon I wanted to hike all the way down, but there was no way Craig or my protesting quads would've let me. We settled for a trip 1300 ft down and 1.5 miles along the trail to the first trail stop, a prestigious... toilet. Yup, that's the first (and the second) landmark on the trail. As ridiculous of a stopping point as it was, it was a serious climb out. Here we are about 20 minutes from climbing our way back out:
Bet you didn't expect to be bombarded with Craig + Mishele = loooove pictures, did you? If you're nauseous I'm sorry... but you'll get over it. Anyway, we did the three mile trail in just over an hour and a half... not too bad post-ironman, especially with all the stops we had to make for the mule tours on our trip back up (not that we were complaining-- the rest was welcomed!)
After the hike we showered and high-tailed it back to Phoenix to catch our (late) flight back to Houston. All in all a good trip, no?
But you can't blame a girl for trying; here's a shot down Bright Angel Canyon:
After the awards ceremony Monday Craig and I drove 4 hours north to stay one night at the Grand Canyon. We left sunshine and 80 degree temps to go through some snow showers and cool breezes in the park. Crazy!
Anyway, we checked in our hotel, took the trail around the rim for about 2 hours, and picked up some dinner before crashing mightily into bed. Unfortunately, I'm the biggest altitude baby there is and at 7000 ft I was sucking wind and pulling out the inhaler what felt like every 5 minutes. It sucked a little.
Tuesday morning Craig and I got up at 4:30 to take a Sunrise Tour. We'd brought sweatshirts for the cold weather, but we weren't prepared for the chill before the sun could warm us up. We were chilly willy:
But despite the tour guide's bad jokes and the cold wind (omg could the wind just freakin stop already?), it was well worth it to finally see sunrise. Again, pictures don't do a bit of justice to the experience, but they're a nice little symbol of what we saw.
Finally, once the sun came up we could de-hood. Not that it made us any more photogenic:
Once the tour was over we got a hearty breakfast in the lodge, then headed down the Bright Angel trail. As soon as I saw the Canyon I wanted to hike all the way down, but there was no way Craig or my protesting quads would've let me. We settled for a trip 1300 ft down and 1.5 miles along the trail to the first trail stop, a prestigious... toilet. Yup, that's the first (and the second) landmark on the trail. As ridiculous of a stopping point as it was, it was a serious climb out. Here we are about 20 minutes from climbing our way back out:
Bet you didn't expect to be bombarded with Craig + Mishele = loooove pictures, did you? If you're nauseous I'm sorry... but you'll get over it. Anyway, we did the three mile trail in just over an hour and a half... not too bad post-ironman, especially with all the stops we had to make for the mule tours on our trip back up (not that we were complaining-- the rest was welcomed!)
After the hike we showered and high-tailed it back to Phoenix to catch our (late) flight back to Houston. All in all a good trip, no?
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Oh no! I forgot to mention something crappy!
So on Friday, K and I were walking back to the car with my bike after registering. There were 2 volunteers in an Explorer on the road beside us, and the girl volunteer hopped out of the passenger side of the car with great flourish to move a cone 4 inches to the left. She lazily left her door open, and the idiot boy volunteer started driving forward.
That damn door hit my bike. Luckily, it didn’t hit my fingers or anything important like a deraileur... it just hit my handlebars and ripped my tape. The girl apologized profusely, but the tape seemed to be staying in place so I was very nice about it. My only experience with ripped handlebar tape was a positive one (it’s still ripped on that side and still in place), so I moved on without dwelling on it too long.
Fast forward to T1. I’d looked for electrical tape in 2 stores on Saturday but couldn’t find any, so I left my handlebar as it was since the tension seemed to be keeping it in place. That is, until I actually got my bike onto the road. I spent the entire ride trying to keep the unravelling tape out of my way. Good thing I was in aero so much or I might’ve gone crazy!
If I could take back that moment of saying, “Oh, that’s okay” to that volunteer I would. Of course, I’d replace that comment with “You know, it’d be a great gift to society if you promised not to breed. There are enough ditzy bimbos in the world without your spawn contributing to the problem.” But alas, the time has passed.
Just wanted to share. As for the other 2500 volunteers: they were pretty great. If only they could keep the dumb ones out of motorized vehicles...
Update: My LBS fixed up my handlebar for a measly $5 labor-- they didn't even charge me for the tape! Must've been the world rewarding me for not being my rude self. Sweet! All is well with the world. :)
That damn door hit my bike. Luckily, it didn’t hit my fingers or anything important like a deraileur... it just hit my handlebars and ripped my tape. The girl apologized profusely, but the tape seemed to be staying in place so I was very nice about it. My only experience with ripped handlebar tape was a positive one (it’s still ripped on that side and still in place), so I moved on without dwelling on it too long.
Fast forward to T1. I’d looked for electrical tape in 2 stores on Saturday but couldn’t find any, so I left my handlebar as it was since the tension seemed to be keeping it in place. That is, until I actually got my bike onto the road. I spent the entire ride trying to keep the unravelling tape out of my way. Good thing I was in aero so much or I might’ve gone crazy!
If I could take back that moment of saying, “Oh, that’s okay” to that volunteer I would. Of course, I’d replace that comment with “You know, it’d be a great gift to society if you promised not to breed. There are enough ditzy bimbos in the world without your spawn contributing to the problem.” But alas, the time has passed.
Just wanted to share. As for the other 2500 volunteers: they were pretty great. If only they could keep the dumb ones out of motorized vehicles...
Update: My LBS fixed up my handlebar for a measly $5 labor-- they didn't even charge me for the tape! Must've been the world rewarding me for not being my rude self. Sweet! All is well with the world. :)
Arizona race report: Run and finish
The run
Ah, on my feet again. I was going to finish.
It's funny how you discover your real goals out on the course: I wanted a 65- min swim, a 7 hour bike, and 11 minute miles on the run. Had you asked me the night before I wouldn't have had those answers, but here I was, running 11 minute miles for the first three miles.
Then that idea died. I could have grasped at 11:00 pace a little longer, but I felt comfortable enough running 11:30 miles that I thought I could sustain it the whole marathon. I kept waiting for my feet to hurt but they didn't really. It just felt good to pass mile marker after mile marker til suddenly I was on the next loop.
Running through transition was extra special this year. It seemed like everyone knew my name and was so excited to see me-- I saw K's family, Houston Racing folks, and thought I spied some internet people as well. I recognize it's totally lame, but having strangers read my name from my bib and cheer me on so enthusiastically-- well, it's amazing. I guess I'm a sucker for attention.
That's about all I can say for the 5+ hour run. I didn't walk except the aid stations and that hill on mile 3 of the loop and I didn't make any friends-- no Haley from Atlanta, Troy from Maryland (though I did see him on the course, but my bike wasn't so slow he could completely lap me), no Diane from Chicago. Just Mishele. I stuck to the nutrition plan that worked so well for me last year, a 4 aid station cycle: Gatorade, water + gel, Gatorade, water + banana. In Wisconsin I ate grapes a lot, but they were irritating my already swollen throat this time. (As much as I love Tempe the place makes me sick. Sad.) Over time my legs slowed, and I didn't have enough to get them going. My heartrate stayed around 138-140, remarkable only because running 11-12 min miles on a treadmill and not after riding 112 miles puts my heart rate around 148. Hmm. Maybe I just need an 8 hour warmup?
Before I knew it I was crossing Mill bridge to the finish. I picked it up to look strong at the end, but when I turned the corner I saw a terrible sight: the clock. 13:42! I thought I was going to cry. To be so close to last year's time and see it slip by in 3 minutes... ugh. It made me sick. But I kept running, trying to look positive and not cry. As I got closer to the finish line I realized I couldn't really see right-- and the clock said 13:33! If you watched me finish looking like I'd won $20, it was because I realized I wasn't in fact slower than 2006. I was elated!
My run time was 16:30 slower than last year to put me at 5:09 even, but so what? I didn't reinjure my foot and PRed overall. You don't get that every day. I'm amazed how my non-tri friends are so unimpressed with my race. Dude, it's hard to do well two years in a row. So what if I only dropped 6 minutes?
Oh yes... about Darlene. She destroyed me on the run. Again, she went out waaaay too fast, but I still never caught her. I blame the whole "not running for two months" thing for not beating her. Maybe some other time.
One thing I'm a little annoyed about: they took the finishers videos off the web so they could sell the damn things for $20. That's total bull. Does NA Sports and everyone else associated with ironman have to take every single opportunity to shake down their race participants? It's not bad enough that people are willing to drop $470-$1000 for a chance to do an m-dot race? Could I please see my stupid finishers video just once for freaking free? It'd be one thing if I'd seen ANY finish, but they've all been swept up before I had the chance (or they didn't tape the finish line). I am a little sick of this. In fact, I'm so sick of it that my next ironman won't be an m-dot. They don't respect me as a consumer and I don't respect them as an entity. I came to this realization about a week after I realized that an m-dot is like that cingular blob-man thing-- just a logo. One silly "M" doesn't define me and it doesn't define what I think triathlon should stand for. So, no m-dot tat for me. I have something much better in mind... once I hit 10 IMs, that is. I'm not swearing off NA Sports because they do put on safe races and I want to see every course. I just think smaller races cut out that crap I find so reprehensible, and I need a crap break.
Anyway, I was happy about finishing before I started ranting. I got a finishers shirt (personally, I'm very opposed to this 2-shirt per race trend. One's bad enough!), medal, and was shipped off to get food. I picked up some pizza and a diet coke and looked everywhere for Craig. No sign of him. I ran around looking for him and getting progressively pissed for about 20 minutes, and when I saw him I let him have it, even though he'd been looking for me too... oops. We tried to stick around for K to finish, but my neck was really hurting and I was worried about the state of my sunburn/chafed neck/chest/crotch/feet/etc. We headed home after a quick trip to Walgreens.
Postwar conditions
Best race ever. No chest chafing. No inner thigh chafing. Light sunburn on my arms, but not too bad. My neck wasn't pretty, and neither was my back where I thought I'd gotten sufficiently rubbed down with sunscreen. Apparently I wasn't rubbed down like I thought (btw, this pic is from Tuesday-- 2 days of healing and I still look deformed):
OUCH! Small but painful. :(
I also got one teensy blister on my foot. I'll take a very painful and ugly neck in exchange for healthy feet and boobs. Both pairs deserve a break.
Monday I woke up quite sore but I could walk like a normal person. I swear my post-IM walk has gotten better after each one I've done, an appreciated perk. Wednesday I felt like I was 90% since it only hurt going up stairs. I should be ready to go by Thursday.
Monday morning Craig and I hit the awards brunch, where I ran into Darlene again. She hadn't made the podium, but was quick to point out that 5th in the W19-24 had gone a 12:47. It took all I had to keep my "Good thing she wasn't here last year then" comment to myself, but I did. :) We sat around for awhile, but then Craig and I left early because it was dull (and we had better things to do... like the Grand Canyon!) We waited in the picture line but gave up on that too after 40 minutes and no progress. Honestly, what do people do with their proofs that takes so long? I don't get it. I was done in Wisconsin in like 1 minute. If you're heading to an IM this year, do us all a favor and don't dawdle with your pics.
So that's all. Thank you to all of you who sent emails, texts, calls, blog comments, etc; the support really meant a lot. You folks are wonderful! A super special thanks to Wendy and Nytro (I think I saw you...) for heading out to the course and lending me some cheers-- I needed them!
First timer tips: It's okay to experiment with nutrition out there, especially if you're feeling poopy. Try the broth and the cola. Don't go out too hard. Take off any reflective tape from your front before the finish line so you don't eff up your finishers picture. Find a friend; they can save your race out there. As for the finish line, don't pass people in the last 50 yards or so or your pictures will be messed up... it's a little late to be "racing" at this point. Don't forget to smile triumphantly! The finish is a lifetime top badass moment, so enjoy it.
Next stop will be GC, AZ. Get ready!
Ah, on my feet again. I was going to finish.
It's funny how you discover your real goals out on the course: I wanted a 65- min swim, a 7 hour bike, and 11 minute miles on the run. Had you asked me the night before I wouldn't have had those answers, but here I was, running 11 minute miles for the first three miles.
Then that idea died. I could have grasped at 11:00 pace a little longer, but I felt comfortable enough running 11:30 miles that I thought I could sustain it the whole marathon. I kept waiting for my feet to hurt but they didn't really. It just felt good to pass mile marker after mile marker til suddenly I was on the next loop.
Running through transition was extra special this year. It seemed like everyone knew my name and was so excited to see me-- I saw K's family, Houston Racing folks, and thought I spied some internet people as well. I recognize it's totally lame, but having strangers read my name from my bib and cheer me on so enthusiastically-- well, it's amazing. I guess I'm a sucker for attention.
That's about all I can say for the 5+ hour run. I didn't walk except the aid stations and that hill on mile 3 of the loop and I didn't make any friends-- no Haley from Atlanta, Troy from Maryland (though I did see him on the course, but my bike wasn't so slow he could completely lap me), no Diane from Chicago. Just Mishele. I stuck to the nutrition plan that worked so well for me last year, a 4 aid station cycle: Gatorade, water + gel, Gatorade, water + banana. In Wisconsin I ate grapes a lot, but they were irritating my already swollen throat this time. (As much as I love Tempe the place makes me sick. Sad.) Over time my legs slowed, and I didn't have enough to get them going. My heartrate stayed around 138-140, remarkable only because running 11-12 min miles on a treadmill and not after riding 112 miles puts my heart rate around 148. Hmm. Maybe I just need an 8 hour warmup?
Before I knew it I was crossing Mill bridge to the finish. I picked it up to look strong at the end, but when I turned the corner I saw a terrible sight: the clock. 13:42! I thought I was going to cry. To be so close to last year's time and see it slip by in 3 minutes... ugh. It made me sick. But I kept running, trying to look positive and not cry. As I got closer to the finish line I realized I couldn't really see right-- and the clock said 13:33! If you watched me finish looking like I'd won $20, it was because I realized I wasn't in fact slower than 2006. I was elated!
My run time was 16:30 slower than last year to put me at 5:09 even, but so what? I didn't reinjure my foot and PRed overall. You don't get that every day. I'm amazed how my non-tri friends are so unimpressed with my race. Dude, it's hard to do well two years in a row. So what if I only dropped 6 minutes?
Oh yes... about Darlene. She destroyed me on the run. Again, she went out waaaay too fast, but I still never caught her. I blame the whole "not running for two months" thing for not beating her. Maybe some other time.
One thing I'm a little annoyed about: they took the finishers videos off the web so they could sell the damn things for $20. That's total bull. Does NA Sports and everyone else associated with ironman have to take every single opportunity to shake down their race participants? It's not bad enough that people are willing to drop $470-$1000 for a chance to do an m-dot race? Could I please see my stupid finishers video just once for freaking free? It'd be one thing if I'd seen ANY finish, but they've all been swept up before I had the chance (or they didn't tape the finish line). I am a little sick of this. In fact, I'm so sick of it that my next ironman won't be an m-dot. They don't respect me as a consumer and I don't respect them as an entity. I came to this realization about a week after I realized that an m-dot is like that cingular blob-man thing-- just a logo. One silly "M" doesn't define me and it doesn't define what I think triathlon should stand for. So, no m-dot tat for me. I have something much better in mind... once I hit 10 IMs, that is. I'm not swearing off NA Sports because they do put on safe races and I want to see every course. I just think smaller races cut out that crap I find so reprehensible, and I need a crap break.
Anyway, I was happy about finishing before I started ranting. I got a finishers shirt (personally, I'm very opposed to this 2-shirt per race trend. One's bad enough!), medal, and was shipped off to get food. I picked up some pizza and a diet coke and looked everywhere for Craig. No sign of him. I ran around looking for him and getting progressively pissed for about 20 minutes, and when I saw him I let him have it, even though he'd been looking for me too... oops. We tried to stick around for K to finish, but my neck was really hurting and I was worried about the state of my sunburn/chafed neck/chest/crotch/feet/etc. We headed home after a quick trip to Walgreens.
Postwar conditions
Best race ever. No chest chafing. No inner thigh chafing. Light sunburn on my arms, but not too bad. My neck wasn't pretty, and neither was my back where I thought I'd gotten sufficiently rubbed down with sunscreen. Apparently I wasn't rubbed down like I thought (btw, this pic is from Tuesday-- 2 days of healing and I still look deformed):
OUCH! Small but painful. :(I also got one teensy blister on my foot. I'll take a very painful and ugly neck in exchange for healthy feet and boobs. Both pairs deserve a break.
Monday I woke up quite sore but I could walk like a normal person. I swear my post-IM walk has gotten better after each one I've done, an appreciated perk. Wednesday I felt like I was 90% since it only hurt going up stairs. I should be ready to go by Thursday.
Monday morning Craig and I hit the awards brunch, where I ran into Darlene again. She hadn't made the podium, but was quick to point out that 5th in the W19-24 had gone a 12:47. It took all I had to keep my "Good thing she wasn't here last year then" comment to myself, but I did. :) We sat around for awhile, but then Craig and I left early because it was dull (and we had better things to do... like the Grand Canyon!) We waited in the picture line but gave up on that too after 40 minutes and no progress. Honestly, what do people do with their proofs that takes so long? I don't get it. I was done in Wisconsin in like 1 minute. If you're heading to an IM this year, do us all a favor and don't dawdle with your pics.
So that's all. Thank you to all of you who sent emails, texts, calls, blog comments, etc; the support really meant a lot. You folks are wonderful! A super special thanks to Wendy and Nytro (I think I saw you...) for heading out to the course and lending me some cheers-- I needed them!
First timer tips: It's okay to experiment with nutrition out there, especially if you're feeling poopy. Try the broth and the cola. Don't go out too hard. Take off any reflective tape from your front before the finish line so you don't eff up your finishers picture. Find a friend; they can save your race out there. As for the finish line, don't pass people in the last 50 yards or so or your pictures will be messed up... it's a little late to be "racing" at this point. Don't forget to smile triumphantly! The finish is a lifetime top badass moment, so enjoy it.
Next stop will be GC, AZ. Get ready!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Arizona race report: Bike and T2
The bike
That ol' wind that's whippin' out there
It's whistlin' your tune.
That wind blew pyramids to Egypt
And footprints to the moon
And that ol' star that you've been wishin' on
It's shinin' mighty bright
And it's the fire inside your heart
That's gonna lead you to the light
Now I know that slaves built the pyramids and space travel is a product of a governmental dick measuring contest. And the lyrics? Very lame. But this was the song that eased into my head every now and again on the bike, and I allowed it to stay because it was so very appropriate (it's "How you ever gonna know" by Garth Brooks. Country and uplifting or something if that's your kind of thing.)
I felt grrrreat in the water, coming out of the water, and hopping on the bike. The wind was light and so was my heart-- but T1 had sent my heartrate above 150, which I don't like to do ever on the bike...or the swim. All the changing and running must've gotten me overexcited. Anyway, for the first out on the bike I focused on calming down so I didn't eff up the race. I couldn't get my HR below 140 (I usually bike around 120 and drift up to 140 over 4-6 hours) so I just went with it. Instead, I focused on eating. My nutrition plan: 3 bottles every 2 aid stations, an uncrustable every out, a Snickers Marathon Womens bar every back, plus some snacking on bananas and gels whenever I got the urge. Since only 2 bars and 2 sandwiches fit in my Bento box I'd have to stop at special needs to get more food.
Lap 1 on the bike was pretty smooth, though I was sad to see Darlene zip by me at mile 6. I figured she was going out too hard and quickly forgot about her. The wind hadn't picked up yet (here is the wind report-- I didn't search for it but I'll certainly refer to it!), so my first "out" was 1:09, almost perfect 16 mph pace. I really really wanted to hit 16 mph for my bike split because my rides are usually 16.3 mph pace, and 16.1 mph when breaks are included. It's not fast to a lot of you, but 16 was my only real race goal, and marked improvement from the 14.2 and 15.1 mph from my first two IMs. That said, I refused to blow my load for the bike split because walking the marathon was simply unacceptable. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
First out: 1:09, first back: 1:10 (again, wind wasn't bad and I lost my chain... bugger!) for a loop of 2:19. I knew I could never keep that pace even though it felt effortless because I always fade in an IM, so early on I let go of my sweet sixteen dreams. This was a mistake, and possibly one of only three regrets I have from the race.
When I started loop 2 I thought I was shot from a canon; I was holding 21+ mph with a heart rate in the mid 130s, so I took it easy, got out of aero to stretch, and got some calories down my gullet. Even with my relaxed effort I got to the halfway point in 58 mins! I did some math and realized I'd need about 12 mph pace to even split my first two loops-- not a good sign when you're about to head back into the wind. Instead of lamenting or getting frustrated, I just got in aero like a good girl and watched my cadence. I stopped at special needs-- my only trip off the bike except in loop 1 to put my chain back on-- because my stomach hurt, got my uncrustable from my bag and ate it while I went to the restroom (I like to be as gross as possible). Just like last year, it was an overly full bladder that was causing me tummy trouble. I finished the second loop in 2:23, perfect pacing with my 3 minute break at special needs. Woo! This was fun!
Lap 3 seemed easier than lap 2 in terms of wind, but that meant I wasn't going as fast on the way out-- or so I thought. I got to the turnaround in 57 minutes this time, but the way back was brutal. I was holding 13 mph and passing people! However, about 7 miles out my stomach hurt too badly to get into aero. It only felt like a little gas, but there was no way to deal with it without slowing down or risking an "accident". I just tolerated it and stayed as low as I could to get home, and I would have hit 2:20 if the loop had ended where the other two did but I had to go a little farther to get back to T2. I ended up with a 7:06:58 bike split, 18:08 faster than last year in some serious winds. I was pleased, but had I known I'd end up riding so consistently I'd have tried a leetle bit harder to reach my goal. Lesson learned.
I really had fun riding, which was so strange. I kept a lookout for HRTC Mitch to pass me since his goal time was sub 14 hours, but I never saw him. I also kept watch for Brent Buckner but also missed him. I did see K (or rather she saw me) and she still looked downright ecstatic to be on the course. It's neat to see people so lively at an ironman; I know that I always look like I want to kill someone, but really I save my face for useful facial expressions, like looking at people like they're dumb or pretending to hide my annoyance. Smiling? Well, I say stick to what you're good at, and my smile doesn't exactly light up a room.
Anyway, another huge difference besides enjoying myself in this bike leg than any other I've done: I got in around 3000 calories in the saddle! I got 3 uncrustables, 2 marathon bars, 2 full bananas, 5 gels, clif blocks, and 5-6 bottles of gatorade (and 3 bottles of water, averaging 2 bottles every 3 aid stations. Oops!) That's over 1000 calories more than I normally do, and I think it was the difference in this race. I felt good the entire time, and my heart rate trend is about as boring as it'll ever be-- 142 for most of the trip, though it did spike at the end of the loops where the wind was bad and drop when the wind was at my back again. Wind or no wind, my heart rate usually drifts up no matter what pace I ride-- nutrition was the only difference. Does that make biological sense? Not that I care, but it's nice to make sense sometimes.
One thing about the wind. I really hate wind. Give me hills, give me naysayers, give me bumpy roads-- anything tangible over an invisible nemesis. I worried about the wind all last year and didn't have too much to deal with; this year I worried again and it saved me because I was prepared for it. I took advantage of the tailwind to eat and relax, and really focused on staying in aero and not getting down about the conditions. This racer full of grace and composure-- she's not me, but I like having her on my team. I wonder if I can get stuck like this... :)
First timer bike tips: I'm going to assume you're not an idiot, so you're not going to go out too hard. Now, don't go out too hard. Don't forget to drink. If you pee on your bike, try to be mindful of the wind and the folks behind you. Don't pass someone, then slow down to grab a drink while you're still in each others' draft zones. Don't be in that drafting pack (Grrr why aren't more officials on the bike course to nip this in the bud? They only seem to catch loners who drift too close to another loner and I think that sucks). Stay alert. Don't be stupid-- get in aero in a headwind no matter how slow you're going. Oh, and don't pass on the right.
T2
I got off my bike, crotch and butt surprisingly intact, hobbled to my transition bag and then to the tent to get on some run shorts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I'm not running an ironman in spandex for all the world to see my butt jiggle. I have some pride here. Anyway, as I'm changing my shorts and shoes I notice a bubbly person near me-- Darlene. Seems like that racing off at mile 6 either found her sucking wind on the back half of the course or she got a flat. I like the first explanation. We exchanged pleasantries, and afterward I asked my assistant to look at the back of my neck; it had been hurting really badly and I was afraid it was burnt AND chafed like last year. She said it actually looked "really bad" and blistered, so she got the head of the changing tent to look at it. Who got a med staffer to look at it. Who got the head of the medical tent to look at it. This process wasted 60-90 seconds, so I was getting mildly annoyed. Finally, the head med guy looked at it and said, "aww, did someone get a wetsuit hickey?" like he was asking me if I'd made doodie in my pants. I told him that's what I'd been trying to tell them, and he let me loose on the run course. Finally! I'm home!
Now, normally I'm in tears in T2. I just hate the bike and am so emotional by the time I get off that I can't help it. This time? Nowhere near tears. It was strange, but I liked it. I hate crying and having to run right afterward.
Even with the needless delay I got outta T2 in 6:46, 2:18 faster than last year when my chafed neck also had me dicking around in pain. Now off to the races...
First timer T2 tips: Hang in there and try not to cry. That's all I got.
That ol' wind that's whippin' out there
It's whistlin' your tune.
That wind blew pyramids to Egypt
And footprints to the moon
And that ol' star that you've been wishin' on
It's shinin' mighty bright
And it's the fire inside your heart
That's gonna lead you to the light
Now I know that slaves built the pyramids and space travel is a product of a governmental dick measuring contest. And the lyrics? Very lame. But this was the song that eased into my head every now and again on the bike, and I allowed it to stay because it was so very appropriate (it's "How you ever gonna know" by Garth Brooks. Country and uplifting or something if that's your kind of thing.)
I felt grrrreat in the water, coming out of the water, and hopping on the bike. The wind was light and so was my heart-- but T1 had sent my heartrate above 150, which I don't like to do ever on the bike...or the swim. All the changing and running must've gotten me overexcited. Anyway, for the first out on the bike I focused on calming down so I didn't eff up the race. I couldn't get my HR below 140 (I usually bike around 120 and drift up to 140 over 4-6 hours) so I just went with it. Instead, I focused on eating. My nutrition plan: 3 bottles every 2 aid stations, an uncrustable every out, a Snickers Marathon Womens bar every back, plus some snacking on bananas and gels whenever I got the urge. Since only 2 bars and 2 sandwiches fit in my Bento box I'd have to stop at special needs to get more food.
Lap 1 on the bike was pretty smooth, though I was sad to see Darlene zip by me at mile 6. I figured she was going out too hard and quickly forgot about her. The wind hadn't picked up yet (here is the wind report-- I didn't search for it but I'll certainly refer to it!), so my first "out" was 1:09, almost perfect 16 mph pace. I really really wanted to hit 16 mph for my bike split because my rides are usually 16.3 mph pace, and 16.1 mph when breaks are included. It's not fast to a lot of you, but 16 was my only real race goal, and marked improvement from the 14.2 and 15.1 mph from my first two IMs. That said, I refused to blow my load for the bike split because walking the marathon was simply unacceptable. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
First out: 1:09, first back: 1:10 (again, wind wasn't bad and I lost my chain... bugger!) for a loop of 2:19. I knew I could never keep that pace even though it felt effortless because I always fade in an IM, so early on I let go of my sweet sixteen dreams. This was a mistake, and possibly one of only three regrets I have from the race.
When I started loop 2 I thought I was shot from a canon; I was holding 21+ mph with a heart rate in the mid 130s, so I took it easy, got out of aero to stretch, and got some calories down my gullet. Even with my relaxed effort I got to the halfway point in 58 mins! I did some math and realized I'd need about 12 mph pace to even split my first two loops-- not a good sign when you're about to head back into the wind. Instead of lamenting or getting frustrated, I just got in aero like a good girl and watched my cadence. I stopped at special needs-- my only trip off the bike except in loop 1 to put my chain back on-- because my stomach hurt, got my uncrustable from my bag and ate it while I went to the restroom (I like to be as gross as possible). Just like last year, it was an overly full bladder that was causing me tummy trouble. I finished the second loop in 2:23, perfect pacing with my 3 minute break at special needs. Woo! This was fun!
Lap 3 seemed easier than lap 2 in terms of wind, but that meant I wasn't going as fast on the way out-- or so I thought. I got to the turnaround in 57 minutes this time, but the way back was brutal. I was holding 13 mph and passing people! However, about 7 miles out my stomach hurt too badly to get into aero. It only felt like a little gas, but there was no way to deal with it without slowing down or risking an "accident". I just tolerated it and stayed as low as I could to get home, and I would have hit 2:20 if the loop had ended where the other two did but I had to go a little farther to get back to T2. I ended up with a 7:06:58 bike split, 18:08 faster than last year in some serious winds. I was pleased, but had I known I'd end up riding so consistently I'd have tried a leetle bit harder to reach my goal. Lesson learned.
I really had fun riding, which was so strange. I kept a lookout for HRTC Mitch to pass me since his goal time was sub 14 hours, but I never saw him. I also kept watch for Brent Buckner but also missed him. I did see K (or rather she saw me) and she still looked downright ecstatic to be on the course. It's neat to see people so lively at an ironman; I know that I always look like I want to kill someone, but really I save my face for useful facial expressions, like looking at people like they're dumb or pretending to hide my annoyance. Smiling? Well, I say stick to what you're good at, and my smile doesn't exactly light up a room.
Anyway, another huge difference besides enjoying myself in this bike leg than any other I've done: I got in around 3000 calories in the saddle! I got 3 uncrustables, 2 marathon bars, 2 full bananas, 5 gels, clif blocks, and 5-6 bottles of gatorade (and 3 bottles of water, averaging 2 bottles every 3 aid stations. Oops!) That's over 1000 calories more than I normally do, and I think it was the difference in this race. I felt good the entire time, and my heart rate trend is about as boring as it'll ever be-- 142 for most of the trip, though it did spike at the end of the loops where the wind was bad and drop when the wind was at my back again. Wind or no wind, my heart rate usually drifts up no matter what pace I ride-- nutrition was the only difference. Does that make biological sense? Not that I care, but it's nice to make sense sometimes.
One thing about the wind. I really hate wind. Give me hills, give me naysayers, give me bumpy roads-- anything tangible over an invisible nemesis. I worried about the wind all last year and didn't have too much to deal with; this year I worried again and it saved me because I was prepared for it. I took advantage of the tailwind to eat and relax, and really focused on staying in aero and not getting down about the conditions. This racer full of grace and composure-- she's not me, but I like having her on my team. I wonder if I can get stuck like this... :)
First timer bike tips: I'm going to assume you're not an idiot, so you're not going to go out too hard. Now, don't go out too hard. Don't forget to drink. If you pee on your bike, try to be mindful of the wind and the folks behind you. Don't pass someone, then slow down to grab a drink while you're still in each others' draft zones. Don't be in that drafting pack (Grrr why aren't more officials on the bike course to nip this in the bud? They only seem to catch loners who drift too close to another loner and I think that sucks). Stay alert. Don't be stupid-- get in aero in a headwind no matter how slow you're going. Oh, and don't pass on the right.
T2
I got off my bike, crotch and butt surprisingly intact, hobbled to my transition bag and then to the tent to get on some run shorts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I'm not running an ironman in spandex for all the world to see my butt jiggle. I have some pride here. Anyway, as I'm changing my shorts and shoes I notice a bubbly person near me-- Darlene. Seems like that racing off at mile 6 either found her sucking wind on the back half of the course or she got a flat. I like the first explanation. We exchanged pleasantries, and afterward I asked my assistant to look at the back of my neck; it had been hurting really badly and I was afraid it was burnt AND chafed like last year. She said it actually looked "really bad" and blistered, so she got the head of the changing tent to look at it. Who got a med staffer to look at it. Who got the head of the medical tent to look at it. This process wasted 60-90 seconds, so I was getting mildly annoyed. Finally, the head med guy looked at it and said, "aww, did someone get a wetsuit hickey?" like he was asking me if I'd made doodie in my pants. I told him that's what I'd been trying to tell them, and he let me loose on the run course. Finally! I'm home!
Now, normally I'm in tears in T2. I just hate the bike and am so emotional by the time I get off that I can't help it. This time? Nowhere near tears. It was strange, but I liked it. I hate crying and having to run right afterward.
Even with the needless delay I got outta T2 in 6:46, 2:18 faster than last year when my chafed neck also had me dicking around in pain. Now off to the races...
First timer T2 tips: Hang in there and try not to cry. That's all I got.
Arizona race report: Race mornin', the swim, T1
Sunday. I woke at 4:45, 15 minutes before my alarm. While I actually opened my eyes because I heard a door slam in a neighboring room, it was a rumbly in my tumbly that got me out of bed. "Oh good!" I thought. "I'm getting this out of the way early!"
Then I went again.
And then again.
By 5:15 I was nauseous and not feeling too keen on the breakfast I hadn't touched. "Maybe you're nervous" offered Craig.
Eh, maybe. But I didn't feel nervous. I felt calm and relaxed-- I just wanted to vomit. Small detail. After groaning and lying down for 10 minutes, Craig and I headed down to the race. The minute we were out of the car I realized I needed the nearest port-o-let or else. I got to one right near the parking lot/buffet line, which turned out to be lucky; the lines for the potties closer to transition were very long, and everyone knows race porta-potties reek of poo (which also happens to make me nauseous). After that 4th trip to the 'room I felt much better, and in no time Craig and I parted ways so I could enter the athletes only area.
A bustling transition on race morning.
I got body marked, got a new wristband (I'd almost twisted mine off the night before), prepped my bike, dropped off my special needs bags, and ran into K. She hooked me up with some Imodium after I told her my 4-poop story (K's not too into poop stories, but that doesn't usually stop me. No, I have no idea how we're friends in light of this grave detail). She said that she felt like she could cry at any minute she was so excited, and I was surprised that I felt the same way. I was... happy. Excited. Ew. I thought maybe I was going soft til I realized I could be PMSing. "Come on Mishele, strap on your pair and let's go."
Sunrise on the swim course.
Into the wetsuit and toward the water. I realized on the way there that I'd forgotten to wipe the excess defogging gloss out of my goggles, so I decided to lick it out. Crazy as it sounds, a substance called Catcrap will induce instant dry heaving. It tastes like, well, crap. I'm an idiot, and I'm lucky nothing came up when I was hugging the trash can and wishing for a stick of gum.
The pros started at 6:45, and my girls and I finally got into the water. Here's another first timer swim tip: Don't be a water pansy-- get in early if yours is a wade start. Why? Because if you wait til 6:45 or 6:50 to get in, everyone actually swims to the start line instead of calmly drifting. It's a real buzz-kill compared to the leisurely floating people do at 6:35.
The swim
I started at the very front about 2/3 the way from the inside. I'm fast enough that I don't get passed much, and the course is wide enough that there's not a ton of pushing. Call me crazy, but I prefer my swim to be challenging because of waves, clarity of the water, and my speed, not the people around me. That's why I love IM AZ. Anyway, in no time we were off. I was surprised about 5 minutes into the swim that I was passing so many folks since I wasn't really going too fast, but I guess
that some people start out fast, get in my way, and must be put back in their places. Within 7 minutes it was easy to avoid running into most folks so long as you were careful in the murky water; oftentimes I wouldn't know I was near someone til a foot was perilously close to my face. 20 mins in I slid more toward the inside of the course to avoid some guy who kept running into me for no apparent reason-- and suddenly was RIGHT on the inside of the course. Heavy traffic. I stayed calm, reasoning that no one gave enough of a fuck about my race to intentionally run into me-- it was just really hard to see in this water. I was very proud of myself as I usually get really frustrated at having my butt grabbed and my face elbowed... I was growing up to be a nice, conscientious ironman! :)
Suddenly, someone pulled me from behind and held my head under water for long enough that I panicked-- maybe 5-8 seconds. Then I got really freaking pissed, grabbed the hands holding me down, and went to punch the face of the ass who was trying to drown me. It was a... girl?
I didn't swing for three reasons: 1) I didn't want to get DQed, 2) I didn't want to waste the energy, and 3) I didn't want my butt kicked by some little pansy; I haven't ever been in a real fight, and this girl at least thought she was IM material. Not promising fighting odds, though I had at least 20 pounds on her.
"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.
"I'm sorry but you just knocked my goggles off my face! We should be helping each other, not hurting!" she yelled back. (Ironic, yes? And she didn't sound sorry at all)
"I'm sorry I didn't see you-- it wasn't intentional" I replied. What a freaking witch.
"Well PAY ATTENTION" she yells back and starts swimming again.
Excuse me?? I can't even begin to describe how I regretted not giving her a bloody nose. I don't like hitting people, but I would really have enjoyed grabbing her ankle and getting her face close enough so that my fist could catch it. Here we are in an ironman swim, not some lovey dovey Irongirl event. Everyone knows the swim can get brutal; I personally am thankful every time I leave the water unbloodied and unbroken. You should expect to get roughed up a little, especially if you're swimming in the most direct line on the swim course. Moreover, I can't hurt people even when I try! I tried punching someone last year in Wisconsin and completely missed. The idea that I could muster the coordination and motivation to smoothly rip some chick's goggles off in an attempt to come in 407th instead of 408th out of the water is laughable. Besides, my hands hadn't touched anything sharp or hard like goggle lenses; I think she caught the wrong person. I was horrified that anyone would act that way in a stupid race, and the mean part of me hopes she didn't finish and her race was a painful one.
I am always anti-man in these races because male triathletes don't realize the charmed lives they lead. And there are no women (<19% of the field in AZ) in the longer races. And they won't let you pass them once they realize you're a girl. And they're smellier. But honestly? Put me in 2500 pushy, pompous dudes before leaving me in the water with one vindictive wench. They're freaking psycho.
Anyway, on the way home I again had some trouble sighting like last year, but it wasn't quite as bad. I rolled outta the water at 1:04:37 and an average heart rate of 147. I beat last year by 1:33... Not too shabby!
First timer swim tips: Get in early. Get the heck out of the way if you're not a strong swimmer. Don't go all chainsaw massacre on someone who hits you; if you stay calm you can usually tell if it's a malicious hit. Dudes, swallow your pride and don't be a pain to pass if some chick is faster than you. If you are getting harassed, try kicking extra to let the person behind you know you're there and they need to find a different route; no one actually wants to swim over
you. Don't go out too hard; you have all day to kick some booty. If it's crowded or the water's murky, use sighting to avoid people, not actually look for landmarks to swim straight-- you probably will anyway.
T1
No trouble changing, but my moleskin had bunched on the swim to chafe my neck all the way across. Ouchie. This year I got the sunscreen guys to get my back, shoulders, low back, legs, and neck so that I could avoid the burning and sun poisoning I got last year. Unfortunately for me, when I said "shoulders" I meant "shoulders to elbows" and got a little
pink on my arms. After some trouble clipping in (embarrassing in front of the crowd!) I started le bike. I got out of transition in 5:50, 38 seconds ahead of last year. Woo!
Check out that cleavage! Who says wearing 2.5 sports bras isn't sexy?
First timer tips: You should really try to minimize your clothes changing, even in an ironman. I always see women who get nekked after the swim and I wonder why someone so fast outta the water would waste T1 time putting on sticky clothes. Also, trust your assistant and let them know how they can best help you. After all, you have a freakin helper to wipe your feet and tie your shoes and shit. Very cool-- but don't forget to thank 'em.
Psst... I have a swim start video Craig took, but don't know how to post it. Any help?
Then I went again.
And then again.
By 5:15 I was nauseous and not feeling too keen on the breakfast I hadn't touched. "Maybe you're nervous" offered Craig.
Eh, maybe. But I didn't feel nervous. I felt calm and relaxed-- I just wanted to vomit. Small detail. After groaning and lying down for 10 minutes, Craig and I headed down to the race. The minute we were out of the car I realized I needed the nearest port-o-let or else. I got to one right near the parking lot/buffet line, which turned out to be lucky; the lines for the potties closer to transition were very long, and everyone knows race porta-potties reek of poo (which also happens to make me nauseous). After that 4th trip to the 'room I felt much better, and in no time Craig and I parted ways so I could enter the athletes only area.
A bustling transition on race morning.I got body marked, got a new wristband (I'd almost twisted mine off the night before), prepped my bike, dropped off my special needs bags, and ran into K. She hooked me up with some Imodium after I told her my 4-poop story (K's not too into poop stories, but that doesn't usually stop me. No, I have no idea how we're friends in light of this grave detail). She said that she felt like she could cry at any minute she was so excited, and I was surprised that I felt the same way. I was... happy. Excited. Ew. I thought maybe I was going soft til I realized I could be PMSing. "Come on Mishele, strap on your pair and let's go."
Sunrise on the swim course.Into the wetsuit and toward the water. I realized on the way there that I'd forgotten to wipe the excess defogging gloss out of my goggles, so I decided to lick it out. Crazy as it sounds, a substance called Catcrap will induce instant dry heaving. It tastes like, well, crap. I'm an idiot, and I'm lucky nothing came up when I was hugging the trash can and wishing for a stick of gum.
The pros started at 6:45, and my girls and I finally got into the water. Here's another first timer swim tip: Don't be a water pansy-- get in early if yours is a wade start. Why? Because if you wait til 6:45 or 6:50 to get in, everyone actually swims to the start line instead of calmly drifting. It's a real buzz-kill compared to the leisurely floating people do at 6:35.
The swim
I started at the very front about 2/3 the way from the inside. I'm fast enough that I don't get passed much, and the course is wide enough that there's not a ton of pushing. Call me crazy, but I prefer my swim to be challenging because of waves, clarity of the water, and my speed, not the people around me. That's why I love IM AZ. Anyway, in no time we were off. I was surprised about 5 minutes into the swim that I was passing so many folks since I wasn't really going too fast, but I guess
that some people start out fast, get in my way, and must be put back in their places. Within 7 minutes it was easy to avoid running into most folks so long as you were careful in the murky water; oftentimes I wouldn't know I was near someone til a foot was perilously close to my face. 20 mins in I slid more toward the inside of the course to avoid some guy who kept running into me for no apparent reason-- and suddenly was RIGHT on the inside of the course. Heavy traffic. I stayed calm, reasoning that no one gave enough of a fuck about my race to intentionally run into me-- it was just really hard to see in this water. I was very proud of myself as I usually get really frustrated at having my butt grabbed and my face elbowed... I was growing up to be a nice, conscientious ironman! :)
Suddenly, someone pulled me from behind and held my head under water for long enough that I panicked-- maybe 5-8 seconds. Then I got really freaking pissed, grabbed the hands holding me down, and went to punch the face of the ass who was trying to drown me. It was a... girl?
I didn't swing for three reasons: 1) I didn't want to get DQed, 2) I didn't want to waste the energy, and 3) I didn't want my butt kicked by some little pansy; I haven't ever been in a real fight, and this girl at least thought she was IM material. Not promising fighting odds, though I had at least 20 pounds on her.
"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.
"I'm sorry but you just knocked my goggles off my face! We should be helping each other, not hurting!" she yelled back. (Ironic, yes? And she didn't sound sorry at all)
"I'm sorry I didn't see you-- it wasn't intentional" I replied. What a freaking witch.
"Well PAY ATTENTION" she yells back and starts swimming again.
Excuse me?? I can't even begin to describe how I regretted not giving her a bloody nose. I don't like hitting people, but I would really have enjoyed grabbing her ankle and getting her face close enough so that my fist could catch it. Here we are in an ironman swim, not some lovey dovey Irongirl event. Everyone knows the swim can get brutal; I personally am thankful every time I leave the water unbloodied and unbroken. You should expect to get roughed up a little, especially if you're swimming in the most direct line on the swim course. Moreover, I can't hurt people even when I try! I tried punching someone last year in Wisconsin and completely missed. The idea that I could muster the coordination and motivation to smoothly rip some chick's goggles off in an attempt to come in 407th instead of 408th out of the water is laughable. Besides, my hands hadn't touched anything sharp or hard like goggle lenses; I think she caught the wrong person. I was horrified that anyone would act that way in a stupid race, and the mean part of me hopes she didn't finish and her race was a painful one.
I am always anti-man in these races because male triathletes don't realize the charmed lives they lead. And there are no women (<19% of the field in AZ) in the longer races. And they won't let you pass them once they realize you're a girl. And they're smellier. But honestly? Put me in 2500 pushy, pompous dudes before leaving me in the water with one vindictive wench. They're freaking psycho.
Anyway, on the way home I again had some trouble sighting like last year, but it wasn't quite as bad. I rolled outta the water at 1:04:37 and an average heart rate of 147. I beat last year by 1:33... Not too shabby!
First timer swim tips: Get in early. Get the heck out of the way if you're not a strong swimmer. Don't go all chainsaw massacre on someone who hits you; if you stay calm you can usually tell if it's a malicious hit. Dudes, swallow your pride and don't be a pain to pass if some chick is faster than you. If you are getting harassed, try kicking extra to let the person behind you know you're there and they need to find a different route; no one actually wants to swim over
you. Don't go out too hard; you have all day to kick some booty. If it's crowded or the water's murky, use sighting to avoid people, not actually look for landmarks to swim straight-- you probably will anyway.
T1
No trouble changing, but my moleskin had bunched on the swim to chafe my neck all the way across. Ouchie. This year I got the sunscreen guys to get my back, shoulders, low back, legs, and neck so that I could avoid the burning and sun poisoning I got last year. Unfortunately for me, when I said "shoulders" I meant "shoulders to elbows" and got a little
pink on my arms. After some trouble clipping in (embarrassing in front of the crowd!) I started le bike. I got out of transition in 5:50, 38 seconds ahead of last year. Woo!
Check out that cleavage! Who says wearing 2.5 sports bras isn't sexy?First timer tips: You should really try to minimize your clothes changing, even in an ironman. I always see women who get nekked after the swim and I wonder why someone so fast outta the water would waste T1 time putting on sticky clothes. Also, trust your assistant and let them know how they can best help you. After all, you have a freakin helper to wipe your feet and tie your shoes and shit. Very cool-- but don't forget to thank 'em.
Psst... I have a swim start video Craig took, but don't know how to post it. Any help?
IM AZ race report: Pregame
This is going to be long and painful, so grab a brew and strap on your safety belts.
I had a good weekend. I hope you did too. Instead of starting at just the race, I'm going to start with my arrival and end with my departure. Awesome. AND, in honor of the 41% of the field in Tempe attempting their very first ironman, I'm going to throw out some first timer tips to anyone who has their sights on the iron distance. You know, for fun.
I got to Tempe on Friday around lunchtime after wisely using my flight to download all my workouts from my watch to my puter. K was waiting for me at the rental car place, where I was offered a Mustang convertible for the same price as my blah standard size. What kind of luck is that? The one time I could get a non-crappy car and I have to shove a stupid bike in the back seat. What would be better than a convertible for a road trip after my race? Turns out I was glad not to have it as we hit some snow on Monday, but more on that later.
Anyway, K and I went straight to registration. The USAT folks somehow forgot to bring an updated database of members, so they made anyone who'd forgotten their USAT card buy a one-day pass-- the boat I was in since my new USAT card hasn't come yet, 4 weeks after I renewed it. USAT is great...on top of things and organized the way a governing body should be. While in line a dude behind me was asked about IM WI since he was wearing a finishers hat. And a finishers shirt. At the same time. While registering for another IM. He confirmed he'd done it (really? Are you sure?) and started grilling the question-asker about his IM credentials. I rolled my eyes. Well, apparently IMWI guy had forgotten his USAT card as well, and he loudly asked the USAT chick "Is this going to be a problem later in the season? Because I'm ALSO doing Ironman Louisville." Actually, it wasn't a question; it was more of a blatant declaration of his superiority. I'd have kicked him in the junk had there been anything worth injuring.
Anyway, after that I got weighed and received my packet from a nice volunteer who asked me if I was a pro ("Do I look like a pro?" "You'd be surprised!"). All was well. In fact, we got an event t-shirt and the Ford IM black drawstring bag right there instead of at the finish. Instead of a huge "FORD" on the bag it actually has an Ironman logo--finally! A huge improvement. Of course, with the bag given to us at registration, we had to hold all our crap at the finish line instead of having it tossed in the bag. But no biggie.
Is there anything more exciting than an empty transition area?
First timer registration hints: Don't forget your USAT card. Women, don't wear heavy clothes if you're going to get depressed you weigh so much more than you do naked. And finally, don't be that A-hole in the registration line. Believe me, no one is actually impressed.
K and I cruised the expo (which was sadly skimpy on samples with GU and Clif not there. It was even worse than Wisconsin without my favorite two booths), I picked up my bike, and we were off. We grabbed some lunch and drove the bike course, then checked into our hotels. In no time it was off to the pasta dinner, where my new HRTC friend Mitch flagged us down to some sweet seats. Dinner was mostly uneventful except I met someone I may have felt an unnaturally strong desire to beat on Sunday. Let's call her Darlene.
Darlene works professionally instructing two of the three tri disciplines, and she's younger than me. She's bubbly and puts on makeup. Obviously not my type of galpal. Anyway, I didn'tlike how she grilled me about last year, which was probably just my projecting my bike performance insecurity onto her innocent questions. But still. I decided I wanted to beat her to the run, where I felt I could give her a good whomping.
After dinner I headed back to the hotel, talked Craig's ear off, and hitthe sack around 10 local time. I was pooped.
Saturday. Woke up at 6, ran 10 minutes. Rode 20 minutes. Swam 20 minutes, dropped off my bike and my transition bags. Picked up a tired and grumpy Craig at the airport. We whiled away the afternoon after he napped and I rested, then hit dinner with a big group of Houstonians. It took forever, and I ended up getting two whole glasses of wine with my pizza dinner (I'm just not a pasta girl. Sorry). After unbelievable drama with the bill, we went back to the room and prepared for race day, and got to bed before 9. Unlike most racers I can sleep normally the night before a race, and I take advantage.
I had a good weekend. I hope you did too. Instead of starting at just the race, I'm going to start with my arrival and end with my departure. Awesome. AND, in honor of the 41% of the field in Tempe attempting their very first ironman, I'm going to throw out some first timer tips to anyone who has their sights on the iron distance. You know, for fun.
I got to Tempe on Friday around lunchtime after wisely using my flight to download all my workouts from my watch to my puter. K was waiting for me at the rental car place, where I was offered a Mustang convertible for the same price as my blah standard size. What kind of luck is that? The one time I could get a non-crappy car and I have to shove a stupid bike in the back seat. What would be better than a convertible for a road trip after my race? Turns out I was glad not to have it as we hit some snow on Monday, but more on that later.
Anyway, K and I went straight to registration. The USAT folks somehow forgot to bring an updated database of members, so they made anyone who'd forgotten their USAT card buy a one-day pass-- the boat I was in since my new USAT card hasn't come yet, 4 weeks after I renewed it. USAT is great...on top of things and organized the way a governing body should be. While in line a dude behind me was asked about IM WI since he was wearing a finishers hat. And a finishers shirt. At the same time. While registering for another IM. He confirmed he'd done it (really? Are you sure?) and started grilling the question-asker about his IM credentials. I rolled my eyes. Well, apparently IMWI guy had forgotten his USAT card as well, and he loudly asked the USAT chick "Is this going to be a problem later in the season? Because I'm ALSO doing Ironman Louisville." Actually, it wasn't a question; it was more of a blatant declaration of his superiority. I'd have kicked him in the junk had there been anything worth injuring.
Anyway, after that I got weighed and received my packet from a nice volunteer who asked me if I was a pro ("Do I look like a pro?" "You'd be surprised!"). All was well. In fact, we got an event t-shirt and the Ford IM black drawstring bag right there instead of at the finish. Instead of a huge "FORD" on the bag it actually has an Ironman logo--finally! A huge improvement. Of course, with the bag given to us at registration, we had to hold all our crap at the finish line instead of having it tossed in the bag. But no biggie.
Is there anything more exciting than an empty transition area?First timer registration hints: Don't forget your USAT card. Women, don't wear heavy clothes if you're going to get depressed you weigh so much more than you do naked. And finally, don't be that A-hole in the registration line. Believe me, no one is actually impressed.
K and I cruised the expo (which was sadly skimpy on samples with GU and Clif not there. It was even worse than Wisconsin without my favorite two booths), I picked up my bike, and we were off. We grabbed some lunch and drove the bike course, then checked into our hotels. In no time it was off to the pasta dinner, where my new HRTC friend Mitch flagged us down to some sweet seats. Dinner was mostly uneventful except I met someone I may have felt an unnaturally strong desire to beat on Sunday. Let's call her Darlene.
Darlene works professionally instructing two of the three tri disciplines, and she's younger than me. She's bubbly and puts on makeup. Obviously not my type of galpal. Anyway, I didn'tlike how she grilled me about last year, which was probably just my projecting my bike performance insecurity onto her innocent questions. But still. I decided I wanted to beat her to the run, where I felt I could give her a good whomping.
After dinner I headed back to the hotel, talked Craig's ear off, and hitthe sack around 10 local time. I was pooped.
Saturday. Woke up at 6, ran 10 minutes. Rode 20 minutes. Swam 20 minutes, dropped off my bike and my transition bags. Picked up a tired and grumpy Craig at the airport. We whiled away the afternoon after he napped and I rested, then hit dinner with a big group of Houstonians. It took forever, and I ended up getting two whole glasses of wine with my pizza dinner (I'm just not a pasta girl. Sorry). After unbelievable drama with the bill, we went back to the room and prepared for race day, and got to bed before 9. Unlike most racers I can sleep normally the night before a race, and I take advantage.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Can I get a booya?
Overall PR (by 6 minutes, but hey, I'll take it). Swim PR. Bike PR. And-- this one's for you Kaoru-- Transition PRs. The run? Well, I ran the whole thing but you sorta can't tell by my time. Oh well. It's all pretty frickin' awesome.
I was also the victim of an attempted murder, but more on that later. Time to walk around like I'm constipated and head to the Grand Canyon, baby!
I was also the victim of an attempted murder, but more on that later. Time to walk around like I'm constipated and head to the Grand Canyon, baby!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Ironman Arizona Preview: Numero 64 lays it out
I don’t want to link to my own blog because it strikes me as silly, but it’s easier than wading through months of my talking to myself to get to last year’s race report and goals. I thought that I’d laugh at 2006 Mishele for being slow and dumb, but no way. My race report is positive (because my race was positive and not somewhere wretchedly unliveable like, oh, Wisconsin) and my goals are rational. Arizona 2006 was my second Ironman, so I was a little timid to put anything out there. Now? I feel pressure to push myself, but I’m not sure I have a leg to stand on here. Instead of more guarantees, I can make less. Sad.
Anyway, because of my running setbacks this season I’m going to be a pseudo goal weenie like I was last year. I have some cycling legs that I didn’t possess a year ago, but that run is a big, daunting question mark. My only hope is that I go Crazy again this year and work some miracles.
Without further ado, the 27 goals of mishelek. Actually, here's a little more ado: A) I don't give a flying dog turd about my transitions. As long as they're under 15 minutes I won't be mad at myself; the transition times in the goals below are based on last year (because the distance I have to go probably hasn't changed) and are round numbers to keep me from getting all glassy-eyed at breaking 15, 14, 13 hrs, etc. B) If my actual swim-bike-run breaks 15, 14, 13 hrs etc, that's close enough for this guy. I've always been a little slow getting on my cycling shoes or peeling spandex from my body in exchange for some breezy running shorts. That'll never change.
Okay, here we go:
1) Finish (same goal every race!) It ain’t easy, no matter how many times you get to that start line.
2) Get my nutrition straight on the bike. This year I’ve taken in as many as 130 calories/10 miles on the bike, around 200-220 calories/hour. That sucks but it’s the best I’ve done. My goal is to match that and exceed it if I’m feeling good; maybe I wouldn’t need Crazy to finish strong if I had some calories to burn. I also don’t drink enough, like, ever. I want to get through my aerodrink o’ Gatorade and a bottle of h-2-o every aid station, a lofty goal.
3) Beat my first IM time of 15:58:43. You know, for continuity.
4) Finish in under 15:09:xx--my worst case scenario assuming I don’t crash. Or burn. Or walk too much of the marathon.
Splits:
1:12:00 swim (1:42/100 yd)
10 min T1
8:00:00 bike (15 mph pace)
10 min T2
5:35:xx run (12:48 min/mile)
5) Finish in under 13:39:xx, last year’s performance. Here’s how I’d expect that race to go down--
Splits:
1:06:30 swim (1:35/100 yd)
6.5 min T1
7:10:00 bike (15.6 mph pace)
9 min T2
5:07:xx run (11:45 min/mile)
6) Finish in under 13:06:xx--a real goal. I can do this if my feet hold up. Of course, if I’m close I might as well push for under 13, right? Let’s just see how the bike goes before getting too ambitious.
Splits:
1:03:22 swim (1:30/100 yd)
6 min T1
7:00:00 bike (16 mph pace)
8 min T2
4:48:xx run (11:00 min/mile)
7) Enjoy meself. I wouldn’t be such a turd as to say that an ironman is fun (though you’d be amazed how wonderful it feels to get out of the water and onto that first bike loop... ooh I crave it. Can’t wait!) but to have $470 to waste on the selfish pursuit of some dumb race? That’s nice. To have family and friends there, on the course and cheering you on—very cool. Basically, I’m a lucky wench and should appreciate that. Not being sure of what the day will bring has forced me to enjoy the experience instead of focusing on a time; not my idea, but I’ll run with it. Hopefully I don’t look evil in my race pics like I normally do.
8) Snag some samples? I’m not sure about the sample situation. Last year I got tons of stuff from Arizona--mostly recovery and electrolyte drink samples from Clif and PowerBar and a race belt, stuff I actually use. Of course, Wisconsin sucked ass for samples because there were hardly any at all! Seriously, why pay so much if you’re not getting hefty sponsor freebies? Really annoys me. I don’t know what to expect for this race though... last year’s buffet or Wisconsin’s skimpiness? I’ll let you know. By the way, what idiot made PowerBar the gel sponsor? Their shit is gross. I’m a Gu girl all the way (except when I’m a Hammer girl; they really have spectacular flavors). Anyway, I’d like to give a good scowl to the a-hole who changed gel sponsors.
Right now the forecast is calling for 18-21 mph winds depending on what site you cruise; last year’s race had 12 mph winds with 15 mph gusts. Sounds like cake, right? It really wasn’t; even Miss Jones was complaining about the bike wind and the heat and she won the womens race. If the weatherman is still saying scary things come Saturday, I might take the bike out harder than normal, just to try to get further into the course before I’m punched in the face with an invisible nemesis. My legs can recover on the run.
Anyway, that’s the word, bird. I fly out Friday morning and Craig’s coming out Saturday; his mom is also flying out from NJ to visit a friend and stop by the race, so I’ll actually have real people watching me and getting bored because the race takes so long. Exciting! After the race we’re heading up to the Grand Canyon to look around and take a sunrise tour (gulp!). Hopefully it’s a nice vacation for both of us. Regardless of how the race turns out, I’m still free of long long rides for the foreseeable future--yay!
Wish me luck and I’ll see some of you cats out there! If you want to follow me on ironmanlive.com, my number is 64, the number of goddesses. Feel free to worship at your leisure. :)
Off to tackle my nerves for yet another day...
Anyway, because of my running setbacks this season I’m going to be a pseudo goal weenie like I was last year. I have some cycling legs that I didn’t possess a year ago, but that run is a big, daunting question mark. My only hope is that I go Crazy again this year and work some miracles.
Without further ado, the 27 goals of mishelek. Actually, here's a little more ado: A) I don't give a flying dog turd about my transitions. As long as they're under 15 minutes I won't be mad at myself; the transition times in the goals below are based on last year (because the distance I have to go probably hasn't changed) and are round numbers to keep me from getting all glassy-eyed at breaking 15, 14, 13 hrs, etc. B) If my actual swim-bike-run breaks 15, 14, 13 hrs etc, that's close enough for this guy. I've always been a little slow getting on my cycling shoes or peeling spandex from my body in exchange for some breezy running shorts. That'll never change.
Okay, here we go:
1) Finish (same goal every race!) It ain’t easy, no matter how many times you get to that start line.
2) Get my nutrition straight on the bike. This year I’ve taken in as many as 130 calories/10 miles on the bike, around 200-220 calories/hour. That sucks but it’s the best I’ve done. My goal is to match that and exceed it if I’m feeling good; maybe I wouldn’t need Crazy to finish strong if I had some calories to burn. I also don’t drink enough, like, ever. I want to get through my aerodrink o’ Gatorade and a bottle of h-2-o every aid station, a lofty goal.
3) Beat my first IM time of 15:58:43. You know, for continuity.
4) Finish in under 15:09:xx--my worst case scenario assuming I don’t crash. Or burn. Or walk too much of the marathon.
Splits:
1:12:00 swim (1:42/100 yd)
10 min T1
8:00:00 bike (15 mph pace)
10 min T2
5:35:xx run (12:48 min/mile)
5) Finish in under 13:39:xx, last year’s performance. Here’s how I’d expect that race to go down--
Splits:
1:06:30 swim (1:35/100 yd)
6.5 min T1
7:10:00 bike (15.6 mph pace)
9 min T2
5:07:xx run (11:45 min/mile)
6) Finish in under 13:06:xx--a real goal. I can do this if my feet hold up. Of course, if I’m close I might as well push for under 13, right? Let’s just see how the bike goes before getting too ambitious.
Splits:
1:03:22 swim (1:30/100 yd)
6 min T1
7:00:00 bike (16 mph pace)
8 min T2
4:48:xx run (11:00 min/mile)
7) Enjoy meself. I wouldn’t be such a turd as to say that an ironman is fun (though you’d be amazed how wonderful it feels to get out of the water and onto that first bike loop... ooh I crave it. Can’t wait!) but to have $470 to waste on the selfish pursuit of some dumb race? That’s nice. To have family and friends there, on the course and cheering you on—very cool. Basically, I’m a lucky wench and should appreciate that. Not being sure of what the day will bring has forced me to enjoy the experience instead of focusing on a time; not my idea, but I’ll run with it. Hopefully I don’t look evil in my race pics like I normally do.
8) Snag some samples? I’m not sure about the sample situation. Last year I got tons of stuff from Arizona--mostly recovery and electrolyte drink samples from Clif and PowerBar and a race belt, stuff I actually use. Of course, Wisconsin sucked ass for samples because there were hardly any at all! Seriously, why pay so much if you’re not getting hefty sponsor freebies? Really annoys me. I don’t know what to expect for this race though... last year’s buffet or Wisconsin’s skimpiness? I’ll let you know. By the way, what idiot made PowerBar the gel sponsor? Their shit is gross. I’m a Gu girl all the way (except when I’m a Hammer girl; they really have spectacular flavors). Anyway, I’d like to give a good scowl to the a-hole who changed gel sponsors.
Right now the forecast is calling for 18-21 mph winds depending on what site you cruise; last year’s race had 12 mph winds with 15 mph gusts. Sounds like cake, right? It really wasn’t; even Miss Jones was complaining about the bike wind and the heat and she won the womens race. If the weatherman is still saying scary things come Saturday, I might take the bike out harder than normal, just to try to get further into the course before I’m punched in the face with an invisible nemesis. My legs can recover on the run.
Anyway, that’s the word, bird. I fly out Friday morning and Craig’s coming out Saturday; his mom is also flying out from NJ to visit a friend and stop by the race, so I’ll actually have real people watching me and getting bored because the race takes so long. Exciting! After the race we’re heading up to the Grand Canyon to look around and take a sunrise tour (gulp!). Hopefully it’s a nice vacation for both of us. Regardless of how the race turns out, I’m still free of long long rides for the foreseeable future--yay!
Wish me luck and I’ll see some of you cats out there! If you want to follow me on ironmanlive.com, my number is 64, the number of goddesses. Feel free to worship at your leisure. :)
Off to tackle my nerves for yet another day...
I don't think you're supposed to be sore while tapering
Oh crap. I am wearing a cummerbund of pain today. Everything from below my natural waist to my illiac crest (the hip bone that sticks out in the front, correct?) is groaning every time I moved; I really did work my abs yesterday. My hamstrings are also extra sore from that third set on the Total Gym. Crap! On the plus side, my ass is less sore than it usually is after PT; it didn’t get any new and horrible exercises yesterday. My butt is so lucky!
At least your core heals quickly, right? It does, doesn’t it? Regardless, if I’m sore on Sunday I’m firing myself for being a pansy.
At least your core heals quickly, right? It does, doesn’t it? Regardless, if I’m sore on Sunday I’m firing myself for being a pansy.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Rehabilitated means sucking less than you used to
I knew it was coming. I ran 6.2 on land last week. No pain. I wore high heels for the first time in two months yesterday (not that I missed them in the mean time). No pain. It was time.
Today I went to physical therapy, full of myself and proud my newly shaped butt (okay okay, you have to touch it to know the power it possesses), my super serial hamstrings, and my quads that look a little misshapen with all that muscle underneath a comfortable layer of cellulite. I was finishing up PT and no one was gonna kick this ass again.
Apparently my therapist didn’t get the memo because she whooped my butt today. Lower ab stuff. Upper ab stuff. Lower ab stuff again. Redo it because I didn’t keep my form the entire set. Slow down til my core is shaking like it’s scared for its safety. Whoever said anything about working my abs? Three sets on the Total Gym. I was sweating like a stinky cow in heat by the end, and I was completely demoralized. Who was this skank (it was skinny PT, not my favorite PT after all) to be challenging ME on my last day? As my hour finished up I had the sinking feeling I was going to have to make more appointments--there was no way I was getting wiped off the floor like I was in this session if I was supposed to be “better”.
Then I met up with my favorite PT for my final eval (insert happy eyebrow raise when she told me to come get her for that very reason). She had me do squats in the middle of the gym--embarrassing!-- and examined my ankle flexibility. Finally she sighed and said, “You look much better, but keep stretching--you’re going to have to stretch for the rest of your life. Two times a week will cut it for some people, but not you; it’s just the way you’re made.”
She mentioned how my stiff feet are a great benefit, but I couldn't allow my muscles to get progressively tighter. She then explained how I’d know that I was too tight or too fatigued to keep running based on where the pain was in my legs. And while she told me about the plusses as well as the minuses of being me, the meaning of her words dawned on me: We all have our weaknesses. Sure, I’m one stiff mofo, but that keeps me from other types of injury. Those nimbly pimbly yoga machines may have loose muscles, but that doesn’t mean they’re better suited to do any of the stuff I do. Ultimately, we have to play the hand we’re dealt. I have to stretch (and preach about stretching to you stinkers who don’t do it) all the time--ideally every day, before and after every workout. Maybe you don’t. But there’s probably something really crappy about your body that doesn’t even cross my mind, and I take great comfort in that.
But really, you should probably stretch your calves more than you do. If I had $1 for everyone who mentions their chronic Achilles tendonitis while skipping off after a track workout without stretching, I’d be able to afford Starbucks every day.
Now that that’s outta the way, can I get a listen for some IM goooooooals? Sweet. See ya tomorrow.
Today I went to physical therapy, full of myself and proud my newly shaped butt (okay okay, you have to touch it to know the power it possesses), my super serial hamstrings, and my quads that look a little misshapen with all that muscle underneath a comfortable layer of cellulite. I was finishing up PT and no one was gonna kick this ass again.
Apparently my therapist didn’t get the memo because she whooped my butt today. Lower ab stuff. Upper ab stuff. Lower ab stuff again. Redo it because I didn’t keep my form the entire set. Slow down til my core is shaking like it’s scared for its safety. Whoever said anything about working my abs? Three sets on the Total Gym. I was sweating like a stinky cow in heat by the end, and I was completely demoralized. Who was this skank (it was skinny PT, not my favorite PT after all) to be challenging ME on my last day? As my hour finished up I had the sinking feeling I was going to have to make more appointments--there was no way I was getting wiped off the floor like I was in this session if I was supposed to be “better”.
Then I met up with my favorite PT for my final eval (insert happy eyebrow raise when she told me to come get her for that very reason). She had me do squats in the middle of the gym--embarrassing!-- and examined my ankle flexibility. Finally she sighed and said, “You look much better, but keep stretching--you’re going to have to stretch for the rest of your life. Two times a week will cut it for some people, but not you; it’s just the way you’re made.”
She mentioned how my stiff feet are a great benefit, but I couldn't allow my muscles to get progressively tighter. She then explained how I’d know that I was too tight or too fatigued to keep running based on where the pain was in my legs. And while she told me about the plusses as well as the minuses of being me, the meaning of her words dawned on me: We all have our weaknesses. Sure, I’m one stiff mofo, but that keeps me from other types of injury. Those nimbly pimbly yoga machines may have loose muscles, but that doesn’t mean they’re better suited to do any of the stuff I do. Ultimately, we have to play the hand we’re dealt. I have to stretch (and preach about stretching to you stinkers who don’t do it) all the time--ideally every day, before and after every workout. Maybe you don’t. But there’s probably something really crappy about your body that doesn’t even cross my mind, and I take great comfort in that.
But really, you should probably stretch your calves more than you do. If I had $1 for everyone who mentions their chronic Achilles tendonitis while skipping off after a track workout without stretching, I’d be able to afford Starbucks every day.
Now that that’s outta the way, can I get a listen for some IM goooooooals? Sweet. See ya tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
It's not all bad
Believe it or not, my everyday life is not in shambles. I’m just tired and stressed; it’ll all go away on April 15th, so bear with me folks. Why the 15th? Law schools and NA Sports collaborated to put all my spring stress on one fine date: law school decision and my first race o’ the season. But I can do it. Taper has given me the light at the end of the tunnel.
First, the run. Two weekends ago (when I got in that Friday 4 hour aquajog that sucked because I forgot to bring anything to eat except part of a bag of sports beans and a 20 oz gatorade I found hidden in my bag), I ran for the first time. My rationale: it was too late to run very far, but I needed to know that my body could run some of the marathon. I have some pride every now and then. So Saturday when I tried 1.6 miles.
I flew.
“Easy” was 9:00 miles, about 30-60 seconds faster than I’m used to. I was stoked. So on Sunday, I opted to run again after 7.5 hour ride. I ran 2.4 this time, and as expected I felt like dookie off the bike. My first .8 mile lap came in at 8:11, and I was pleased with my pace. The next two laps? Negative split. Once I got my legs under me and I wasn’t even touching the ground. I pulled a 7:00 second lap and a 6:53 third lap, again not feeling all that tired. Could using my glutes and hammies actually make me faster? Apparently. 22:04 is not a usual time for me for a 2.4 mile jaunt after 115ish mile ride. Still, my foot ached a bit so I decided to quit while I was ahead.
I went to PT two days later and my therapist asked me if I’d run yet. I almost said no since I hadn’t been given permission, but I fessed up. She nodded at my progress and told me I could run 3 miles every other day, but not after I biked anymore--a reasonable rule I can follow. After a week of running with no serious pain, she told me yesterday I could up it to 4 miles and that I only had one more PT session left. I’m going to graduate from physical therapy before Arizona!!
So what did I do with that permission to go longer? Decide to run 6 of course. I did my last longish run last night--6.2 on the ‘mill and 7 in the pool. Today I’m a little sore, but it’s mostly from the PT. If I can run half the marathon at the Y I can make it at least that far in AZ. I’ll be mighty sore come the 16th but I think I can do it. Oh confidence, how I’ve missed you.
My swim isn’t going down the toilet either. Last week I was too lazy to come up with a practice so I opted to do 2x1000 moderate as a yard-eating main set. I rolled in my first on at 14:38 (1:28/100yd), about a minute faster than I was expecting. After a minute of rest I was off to the races, determined to keep it under 15 again. As I swam I felt fatigue setting in; I worried that I’d missed a 50 on my previous 1000. The slower I felt, the faster I swam, fearing the time I’d see when I finished. My second 1000 was considerably higher effort--especially the last 300--but I was relieved to see I came in at 14:29 (1:27/100yd). Yea! It meant my first wasn’t a mistake and my swim ability is the same as last year. Since I’m not looking to improve my swim time I’m ready to roll!
Finally, I’m only $105 away from my fundraising goal. It’s exciting. Still, I have a ways to go so please, please help out if you can.
11 more days. Sometimes it seems so easy. Sometimes.
First, the run. Two weekends ago (when I got in that Friday 4 hour aquajog that sucked because I forgot to bring anything to eat except part of a bag of sports beans and a 20 oz gatorade I found hidden in my bag), I ran for the first time. My rationale: it was too late to run very far, but I needed to know that my body could run some of the marathon. I have some pride every now and then. So Saturday when I tried 1.6 miles.
I flew.
“Easy” was 9:00 miles, about 30-60 seconds faster than I’m used to. I was stoked. So on Sunday, I opted to run again after 7.5 hour ride. I ran 2.4 this time, and as expected I felt like dookie off the bike. My first .8 mile lap came in at 8:11, and I was pleased with my pace. The next two laps? Negative split. Once I got my legs under me and I wasn’t even touching the ground. I pulled a 7:00 second lap and a 6:53 third lap, again not feeling all that tired. Could using my glutes and hammies actually make me faster? Apparently. 22:04 is not a usual time for me for a 2.4 mile jaunt after 115ish mile ride. Still, my foot ached a bit so I decided to quit while I was ahead.
I went to PT two days later and my therapist asked me if I’d run yet. I almost said no since I hadn’t been given permission, but I fessed up. She nodded at my progress and told me I could run 3 miles every other day, but not after I biked anymore--a reasonable rule I can follow. After a week of running with no serious pain, she told me yesterday I could up it to 4 miles and that I only had one more PT session left. I’m going to graduate from physical therapy before Arizona!!
So what did I do with that permission to go longer? Decide to run 6 of course. I did my last longish run last night--6.2 on the ‘mill and 7 in the pool. Today I’m a little sore, but it’s mostly from the PT. If I can run half the marathon at the Y I can make it at least that far in AZ. I’ll be mighty sore come the 16th but I think I can do it. Oh confidence, how I’ve missed you.
My swim isn’t going down the toilet either. Last week I was too lazy to come up with a practice so I opted to do 2x1000 moderate as a yard-eating main set. I rolled in my first on at 14:38 (1:28/100yd), about a minute faster than I was expecting. After a minute of rest I was off to the races, determined to keep it under 15 again. As I swam I felt fatigue setting in; I worried that I’d missed a 50 on my previous 1000. The slower I felt, the faster I swam, fearing the time I’d see when I finished. My second 1000 was considerably higher effort--especially the last 300--but I was relieved to see I came in at 14:29 (1:27/100yd). Yea! It meant my first wasn’t a mistake and my swim ability is the same as last year. Since I’m not looking to improve my swim time I’m ready to roll!
Finally, I’m only $105 away from my fundraising goal. It’s exciting. Still, I have a ways to go so please, please help out if you can.
11 more days. Sometimes it seems so easy. Sometimes.
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