I have recently come into a large sum of money

And when I say "I" I really mean the OCRF. We're tight like that. Okay, maybe we're not but that's my post title, dammit.

I started this post on Monday, the day our air conditioning hadn’t been working for about two days. I was miserable--as was our whole apartment, which was a roasting 85 day and night. Bummer, I know. To cheer myself up, I decided to post my final race report from Wisconsin: my Janus Charity Challenge numbers. Much to the disappointment of my dramatic side, the A/C was fixed long before I finished this, so I abandoned the effort. I know that doesn’t make logical sense, but that’s just how I work.

With the help of my family, friends, and amazingly supportive tri community here in H-town I raised $5635 plus a match from Janus for $750--bringing the total gift to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund to $6385. Holy shit!

I loathe fundraising. I hated selling calendars for Girl Scouts, and I ate more candy bars for school sales than I dreamt of selling. In college I’d pay to get out of Thurtene fundraising even though I was broke. Selling stuff I didn’t like and asking people for money felt dirty, and the feeling is compounded by my hating to ask for any type of help. For this particular round of fundraising I felt a lot less bad about asking, but also wanted to give people the opportunity to donate in hopes of getting something in return; the raffle was born, and I decided to write the Houston businesses I loved to see if they could donate anything. Of the 75 letters I sent out, I only received maybe 12-15 positive responses, but the prize pool ended up being around $700 worth of stuff. Apparently all you have to do is ask.

Anyway, here are some neat numbers I found:
$ from family-- $1400
$ from friends-- $1962
$ from Houston Racing Triathlon Club-- $1216
$ from Texas-- $2860
$ from non-TX-- $2775
$ from folks I’ve never met-- $1301
$ from work-- $1156
$ from the raffle ~$775

Clearly the numbers overlap in some places, but that’s a lot of money from a lot of different folks. Some donated because I did an Ironman, and some people just wanted to support me. Others knew my mom or my aunt (who also died of ovarian cancer), and still more lost someone they loved to the disease. No matter what the motive it was very touching, and more than one training session found me thinking about how lucky I am to be surrounded with such caring people. I don’t do much sap, but I’ve been a total baby about this from day one... thanks guys.

I know you're not supposed to get competitive with this kind of thing, BUT I simply can't help my nature. :) I'm pretty proud to have been ~15th of the 50+ athletes in the Janus Charity Challenge at Wisconsin when ranked by how much moolah raised (NOT finishing time). I wish I could get the exact number but they pulled the search for WI 06 athletes after the race and don't publish such things (besides, what kind of self-involved prick would care about a charity ranking? Besides me of course). What's important is the effort, right?

Okay, no more WI stuff. And no more excuses for my recent fusion to the couch and cheese. I'll start training again... this weekend. ;-)

Race report

So here’s the report. In case you’re wondering I made none of my time goals, but I held it together pretty well with most of the other ones (except the pics... they’re awful). I also placed really poorly in my age group, but I was okay with it—those girls were fast and weren’t messing around. Anyway--

The Swim

The course: two loop, wade start. The day before I’d hesitated mightily to get in the water, but found I was being silly—despite the chilly air, the lake was very comfortable, almost warm. The water wasn’t especially clear or cloudy, just a normal lake. Like I mentioned yesterday, I don’t care much for double loops, but the water itself was a-okay with me. On race day I found George and Ben on my way to the water, and we laughed and joked while we waded out to the start. It was relaxed, fun--like college but with wetsuits and better bodies. I opted to start about 10 feet in front of them, and we started drifting apart. We wished each other luck and I tried to put my game face on.

I like to start swims on the front line and out to the side; it’s worked for me so far in these things. The canon boomed and the melee began. I’m used to getting the “swim beating” for about 5-10 minutes, then having the place clear out for the most part. While I started this race in the same spot, I never cleared the water traffic. Most of the thrashing and punching was accidental, but it never seems that way when you’re the one who was punched in the face. There are people who do that crap on purpose, and I’m ashamed to say it occurred to me at one point to deliver a well-timed jab. Of course, my jabs wouldn’t be well timed, and my one attempt to intentionally push someone ended up reaching only water. I took it as a sign I wasn’t meant to be a swim brutalizer and should just keep moving.

At the first turnaround buoy the water got rougher. Since I haven’t open water raced since June I forgot that you can’t take your breaths for granted, and this is especially true in choppy water. I tried to keep my cool, swim straight, and work with the waves, but I had a sinking feeling my swim would be bad. The second loop was more of the same: struggling bodies and waves. I emerged from the water at 1:09:42, 4 minutes after my original (silly) goal. While this isn't a time to be proud of, I did beat 2 female pros-- kinda cool.

T1

Though my time doesn’t show it (7:45) I had a great Mishele T1. I got my wetsuit stripped by an efficient stripper (tee hee), got my stuff together, thanked at least 3 people for their help, and headed out. What took so long? Running up that parking helix, running into the building, then running down a very long transition. Again, I lucked out because my bike was right near the mount line, so my time should have been way worse. I really liked changing indoors because the carpet was so warm and soft under my bare feet; it was also nice knowing my clothes weren’t getting soaked in the rain, which came later. The only bad thing I guess I’d add is my cap got lost in the shuffle, and I really like the IM caps b/c they’re the original small Speedo ones--the best for training unless you have 12 feet of hair to tuck under that cap. Oh well... no sense in lamenting over a $1.50 cap that I got for free.

The Bike

The bike started by riding down another parking helix, which was way funner than running up one. I felt really good but was determined to go very easy til the second loop. Despite my efforts I was riding really fast for me, and I can only assume it was a tailwind helping me along. The drizzle that had begun when I got on the bike never let up, but it was still feeling like a beautiful day. I decided I’d be positive for the first 60 miles no matter how I felt; if I could do that, I could endure another 52 with some semblance of joy. So yeah, the ride out was fast and lots of people passed me, as always. I kept waiting for George and Ben to whoosh by since they are both strong cyclists, and finally Ben pulled alongside me at mile 24.9 (couldn’t he have waited til 25? Sigh). I saw him again at 30 because he stopped to pee. We chatted about the upcoming “hilly part” (funny because a lot of it is hilly) and I told Ben I had yet to see George... strange. He continued on his badass way and two hills later I met up with George. I never saw the two again til the run where they were kicking some serious Ironman booty--it was very inspiring. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The course was as hilly as it had been the day before (I hit a new high speed of 42.8 mph-- while braking!), though it was a bit less scenic due to the dreary weather. Still, it was a nice trip out to the country, and locals lined the roads with cow bells, radios, and lots of enthusiastic cheering. At the top of one especially long hill there was even a guy handing out sausages, and while I knew it was a bad idea I simply couldn’t resist. That sausage tasted so good! I also got lucky and didn’t suffer any consequences for letting my bravado control my nutrition. Speaking of nutrition, I did okay with the eating on the bike, but wasn’t very thirsty; when I stopped at 56 and 80 miles to pee what seemed like gallons, I finally decided that I wasn’t drinking unless I was thirsty for the rest of the ride.

At mile 62 my back started to feel crummy. It was unexpected since it normally doesn’t bother me too much, but I was hardly surprised--it’s an ironman, right? Earlier in the day I’d grinned at the thought of getting a “hard” race to do: rain, cool weather, and a tough course. It would be a day I’d have to earn my stripes. By my pit stop at 80 I wasn’t feeling the challenge, but I was lucky to still be riding... All day ambulances screamed down the road with regularity. Chilling, especially when I thought how it could just as easily be me skidding off the road with my numb hands and feet controlling my ride.

Though I hadn’t worked hard in the first loop at all, I barely survived the second one. The wind picked up and my emotions went all crazy-haywire, and it was with great relief that I turned to head back to T2. In the last 5 miles about 30 people passed me, but I my ego wasn't engaged enough to try to stick with them. Finally I got to the parking garage helix I would have to ride up; I wondered briefly if anyone had walked up it so that I'd be excused if I had to. I thought it would totally suck riding up that thing, but there was no wind or rain on most of the ramp, which was really all that came to my mind when I got to climbing. Finally, I dismounted (clumsily) and gratefully met an indoor T2 after 7:33:06 in the saddle.

T2

I ran into the building, got my bike to run bag, and hit the ladies changing room. Then I started to cry because that’s what I do. After about 10 seconds I got hold of myself, but didn’t make much progress changing with my cold fingers. About that time a volunteer came over to help me put on my clothes. I felt like so helpless and lame before her--and grateful for her help. While we negotiated my running top and mittens she told me with a touch of worry that her son was still on the bike course. Let me pause to say how much I love people who will sacrifice the 7 seconds they’ll see their loved one at some point on the course just to volunteer to help miserable strangers like me--I’d truly have been a mess without her. I hope her son finished okay.

The Run

The run
Out of T2 (a sluggish 10:06) I started worrying about my time, but what could I do? I was going as hard as I could. As I left Monona I watched the winner come through the chute, which strangely inspired the thought, “26.2 miles isn’t that far.” Clearly I’m on drugs. I shuffled along for a few miles, seeing George and Ben going the other direction and looking pretty cheerful. I got excited; having friends on the course is really nice, and though I didn’t like the out-and-back format, it allowed me to see my buds twice each despite their awesome performances (George finished in 11:45 and Ben in 13:30!).

The only reason I got through the run in less than 6 hours is because of Diane from Chicago. We met walking up a hill around mile 5 (where she’d already made up over 5 minutes on me). We chatted and I decided to shed my lazy pace to stay with her. At mile 8 I started slowing down again and thanked her for running with me, but she wouldn’t hear it. “Running is like dating,” she replied. “You just gotta make sacrifices.” We slowed a little but stayed together. Later when she started feeling like dog poop, I was more than willing to walk for a bit... even so, she definitely sacrificed minutes of her time to stay with me. Our time was slower than we both wanted but I was grateful to share the experience with someone.

The run was basically cold and dark and nothing earth shattering happened. Things of note could be running on the UW football field and my extreme chafing that would have forced me to take off my shorts had I been wearing underwear, but neither truly stuck out in my mind. Ultimately it was a long, slow 26.2.

I was so relieved to finish. I’d picked it up at mile 25 but when I made my last turn my heart sank a bit. In front of me was a man running with his small son to the finish, and I thought I’d have to walk across the line since there was no way I was ruining their moment just to knock a few seconds off my time by passing them. I jogged behind them for a few seconds, then realized we were just getting to the 13.1 turnaround--the finish was still beyond! I carefully passed them and crossed the line with a 5:25:22 marathon.

The Aftermath

At the finish they always hold up a banner for you to cross to make your moment and picture that much cooler, but I always feel silly; my photo shows this with my rolled/half closed eyes and drunken smile on my face (at 14:26:01). Diane crossed a few seconds later, and we thanked each other for the run company. I got my medal, bag, etc (and got to keep my timing chip bracelet thingy, which was cool and unexpected) and met with my roommate. Did I cry? NO! I didn’t do lots of things well this race but I did do that. After snagging some pizza/Diet Coke we headed to the car. That basically ended the glamorous part of the night... I went home to really bad chafing and lots of wet stinky clothes. Roomie was great about dropping off my bike with Tribike Transport and general assistance with my junk, which made this trip a lot easier than Arizona. Friends are nice to have around.

Overall, Wisconsin was many times harder than Arizona--the weather, the hills, and the lines. Maybe it’s not fair to compare the larger IM WI to IM AZ, but I just wasn’t impressed with the former’s facilities or organization... one day once I’ve gotten to all the North American Ironman races I’ll have a better sample to compare this place to. And though I swore on Monday I’d never be back to IM in Madison again, I knew I was lying; I’ll be back for this course, just not next year. Heh, maybe I’ll wait til I move somewhere with a fall, winter, and hills before I do so, but I’ll be back. And I’m bringing arm warmers! :-)

Wisconsin: the second state in the Union in which I refuse to live

Hey! I’m alive... barely. My race--the whole trip--did not go as planned, but I made it. I had a nice little race report on my laptop last night, but managed to run out of batteries while insisting on not saving; you’re going to have to wait a day to hear about the race. But you can hear about the pre-race activities and my overall impressions of Madison, Ironman WI, and the great cheese state itself. Neat, huh?

I arrived in Milwaukee on Friday morning to dry weather and the mid 70s. I shivered getting off the plane. My roommate and I got our luggage, hopped in the rental, and drove the 75 or so minutes to Madison. Before we entered Monona Terrace in Madison so that I could register, we were definitely in the top 5% of the thinnest people in the state. Wisconsin seems quite, um, pale and heavyset. Once we walked into Monona Terrace, however, we became just about the fattest people in view. Of course, we’re kind of used to that at these races. We found a restroom, then hopped in a reeediculously long line for registration. While stuck in the line for about 1/2 hour (til we got a sheet of paper, then moved to another reeediculously long line), we were subjected to the conversations of those around us.

I’m not sure I’ve made this as clear as I could, but I utterly dislike Ironmen. And their conversations in line. So, roomie and I made fun of the jerks around us (and those wretched WI accents) for a good 90 minutes before I finally got my wristband and freedom. Next we went up to Inside Out Sports to buy some CO2 cartridges and look around (and stand in another unbefreakinglievably long line). After that we headed to the expo, which was the worst expo ever. PowerBar wasn’t even there, and Clif wasn’t handing out packets of their drinks, only teensy samples. I was annoyed; here I was, wasting a day of vacation, paying for parking, and did I get to score some recovery drink powder samples? Heck no. After I checked in for the Janus Charity Challenge (I raised over $5600! Thanks to everyone who donated! There’ll be a special party in heaven for you!), we headed down to pick up my bike from TriBike Transport--who, by the way, I’d recommend 100 times over. Very friendly, very easy, and I got a free Headsweats visor. Woohoo!

The rest of Friday was spent unpacking, eating dinner with friends, and organizing my crap for what looked like a chilly race day. The prediction: 62 with 30% chance of rain. 30% isn’t much, right? Right. So it was okay I didn’t look for arm warmers til Saturday when they were sold out all over the city because 30% rounds down to 0, and if it did rain even 30% of the day, it’d only be 7.2 hours. Right? Right.

Wrong... but that’s another story. Onto Saturday. I got up (alone... my roommate stayed out with his college buddies), ran and rode around the hotel, then headed back to Monona for a quick dip in the lake. The water was warm, and my swim out was smooth and quick; the current was obviously pushing me along. I decided to cross the swim course and head back so that I could feel the water from every angle I would the next day. When crossing the course I got pummeled. Crushed. The waves were rocking and punching, but when I turned to finally head back I was greeted with an easy swim again. I could handle the thin sections of the course being rough, I thought. After my swim I ran into George and Ben at the expo/transition (I was on a rack right next to the pros and with only 3 bikes! How awesome!), and we hung around and decided to drive the bike course together in the afternoon. We parted ways, I farted around the next few hours, then met up with the guys again to see what I’d be facing on two wheels on Sunday.

I mentioned last post I’d watched Simply Stu’s videos of the course. Due to the speed required to get the entire thing in 30 mintues, the bike one is not representative of the actual course--even though it is the actual course. I'd advise driving the course before deciding what you can actually do on race day. George and I got the Basically Ben tour from our favorite local, which gave us insights into when to eat, what corners to watch, what roads were crappy (think ~80 miles of them... grr), what hills were tough. I knew my goals were screwed by the time I dropped them off--the swim was looking to be choppy, the bike challenging, and the run boring. This wasn’t a PR race situation, but I tried to stay positive; after all, I wasn’t even at the starting line and I disliked the race site, avoided most other competitors, and feared the wretched weather. If I kept being Negative Nellie I wasn’t going to finish.

But I did finish--in 14:26:01. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. My original goal was 13:40 or so, and my during-the-race goal was to break 15 hours. I landed somewhere in the middle, and that’s okay. Maybe if I’d gotten my dry 90 degree day rather than the upper 50s with constant rain I could have done all I’d hoped for. As it was, I did my best. Am I embarrassed? A little, but only at my time. I couldn’t ask for anything more from my body, nor could I have trained any better (well, except maybe that weight training regimen... next year!).

Now I’ll skip to my impressions of the race. I hated it. The swim is a two loop course, and while you don’t have to actually get out and run on the beach after your first loop, I don’t like double loops. They’re too congested. The bike course had a lot of turns and a lot of bumpy roads, and my crotch would like to personally give the finger to whoever planned the course. The run is dull dull dull--out and back twice over an uninspiring, but largely contained, path. I mentioned the long lines, the lame expo, and the parking... we had to pay for parking every damn time we were in town, including race day. Honestly, for $450 I can’t get one freaking day of free parking? I have to send my friend hither and thither to get the car so I don’t collapse after the race? You stink, Ironman Wisconsin. You’re a not-as-good-as-you-should-be race. And Madison? It’s about as big as an almond. The hotels aren’t as close to the race site as I’d expected and there’s not a lot to look at there; I don’t know why this was such a shock to me but it was. I’d cut off a toe before I moved there, though there were some yummy restaurants, pretty town square, and cute college kids (if you could ignore that accent...*shudder*).

Yet despite my strong disappointment and my pledge to not do an ironman next year ("law school"), I had to resist registering for the 2007 race on Monday morning. I couldn’t help it--I wanted to do better on a challenging course. I wanted to be in that selective group again that got to compete in IM WI. It was my pride speaking, not my heart--and haven’t I listened to that enough?

I don’t want to sound bitter about the race, so let me go through the positives. The crowds on the bike course are great, as are the volunteers. While I could have done without the sausage my pride forced me to accept at the top of one hill--and I definitely didn’t need to be peer pressured into running up one hill instead of staying seated--the people added that spark that is essential at an ironman. The bike was challenging but pretty (if it hadn’t been raining and folks hadn’t been crashing or spitting mud from their tires straight to my face). The run was also nicely contained and allowed family and friends to watch at the turnaround/start/finish as well as the halfway turnaround at mile 6-7 and 20-21. It was also pretty flat, which I definitely needed. Finally, it was nice to be able to ask for directions from people and to not get honked at when I failed to pay attention to traffic lights turning green; Wisconsin isn't all bad. See? I’m not totally negative.

I’m off to swim--and I’m actually excited about it! Woo hoo!

Ironman Wisconsin: will she be my, um witch?

I have a number (I’m 45!! Don’t ask me why I’m 2000 lower and the only non-consecutive number of the W18-24s). It’s 5 days away. It’s time to reveal some goals.

As always with these races, my hopes and dreams are tiered. Here they are in increasing order of difficulty:

1) Finish (of course)
2) Finish in under 17 hours-- to be official
3) Finish in under 14 hours
-- Swim of 1:05:xx (previous swim was a 1:06:12, but I did a crappy job sighting)
-- T1 under 6:00 (previous T1 of 6:28, but I have new sock-less cycling shoes and am swimming in my cycling stuff)
-- Bike at 15.1 mph/under 7:30 (previous bike was 15.1 and 7:25:06. This course is hillier but I’m 13% more of a badass on my sweet new ride and serious biking legs)
-- T2 under 7:00 (previous was 9:04, but that’s because I was brain dead)
-- Run at 10:58 pace or 4:48 marathon (previous was 11:09 pace and 4:52:30
-- Total time: under 13:40:00
This is a reasonable though still challenging goal. And I’m down with reasonable.

4) Finish in under 13 hours (Superchick goal)
-- Swim of 1:04
-- T1 under 6:00 (no need to get carried away here… I still have a wetsuit to take off and a fair distance to jog)
--Bike first lap in 15.7 and second at 16.0 mph for a time of 7:04
-- T2 under 6:00
-- Run at 10:40 pace for 4:40 marathon
-- Total time: under 12:59:59
Sub goal: if I break 13:00, I’m going to try hard not to soil myself in disbelief at the finish
5) Finish in top 8 (top 20%) of my age group. I don’t have much control over this one since I probably can’t convince any of the girls to slow down. Still, a good (and lofty) goal.

I’m really afraid of this race, and I keep thinking my goals are too challenging; I think I might be afraid to set the bar high enough so that it’s really a challenge. And I’ve only done this twice before with VERY varying results--how can I be sure I can do this? And what if I DO break 13? The implications are too much to consider, though fortunately it will be very difficult to do.

Anyway. I also have some quality goals--not independent of the times above, but certainly distinctive enough to merit their own section:

1) Holy crap you bonehead, get your bike nutrition executed. I’ve never done this one (and I’m just a little bitter about it), so now’s a good time to start. This could be the reason I’m so slow in the saddle, eh? I pledge to drink a bottle of fluid an hour, take a salt tablet every half hour, and try to eat every 30-45 minutes, depending on how the tummy’s faring.
2) Negative split my ride. If I take it easy on the first lap like I’m supposed to, this is a very real possibility. Scary!
3) Don’t walk any hills on the bike. While at first I thought this would be difficult, after seeing the course video on Simply Stu’s site I’m feeling a lot better about being able to keep my butt glued to my saddle the entire time.
4) Don’t go out too hard the first 10 miles of the run. Easier said than done, especially when “hard” is still relatively slow.
5) Don’t finish so fast that I catch someone at the end of the race, making my picture at the finish line suck due to the overzealous turd in front of me. Is it wrong to call someone a turd for being “too excited” for finishing an Ironman? Well I’m doing it anyway.

And here are some non-athletic goals that I’m also aspiring to achieve, in no particular order:
1) Do not lose my bike in transition
2) Don’t look like I’m drunk or high in my finisher’s pic
3) Find the cameramen on the course and smile! Never mind I feel absurd doing so--it’s important for my legacy (ha).
4) Do not cry at the finish line
5) Enjoy the visit with some awesome college pals: hero George, pledge daughter Adrienne, and genius Ben (who’s doing his first IM)
6) Snag an unbelievable amount of samples of powerbar’s electrolyte drink and clif’s recovery drink. Okay, also attempt to score the powerbar recovery stuff and the clif electrolyte stuff... beggars can’t be choosers.
7) Be nice to C
8) Look for a $370 bill on the ground so I can make my fundraising goal


Okay, I think that’s enough. If you want to watch me finish on Sunday or want to follow my progress just type in 45 for bib number or my last name here under “The Latest” in the upper right corner. If Arizona was any indication I’ll start to cry every time I think of you folks watching—which happened to be at every single timing pad on the course. I’m a sucker for support, especially when I’m exhausted and hormonally unbalanced.

See ya later!

Stick a fork in me: my crappy afternoon that wasn’t all that crappy. I guess.

Yesterday I was supposed to have dinner at a friend’s house at 7:30. I was stoked about what was sure to be a fancypants, delicious dinner, but I was a little concerned about getting in the hour ride and 1500 yd swim for the day, especially since I didn’t roll out of bed til after 7 AM. I decided to solve the problem by working through lunch, leaving work at 4:30, riding at the park til I was kicked off by the crits, hit the pool, get home, and jet to dinner. It was a good plan except it’s stupid; in order to make the magic happen, I’d have to take my bike in the cab of my truck to avoid theft and tacking on 40 minutes of travel time. In case that’s not obvious, this is a bad idea. I promised myself I’d admit defeat if it took me more than 7 minutes to shove my bike into the passenger seat, but alas! It only took 5 minutes. I pulled out of my apartment complex a few minutes later with my cheek resting on my front fork... classy.

A few minutes after that, the fork jabbed my chin and left a trail of grease no one cared to mention to me for several hours... classy.

Anyway, I achieved moderate success getting my work done, and left the office on time. I got to the park, put my front wheel back on Lucy, and started to change in the middle of the street (also classy, I know). I thought it would be easy since I was wearing a dress, but I overestimated my ability to shimmy out of my clothes; I think I flashed two unsuspecting cars as they passed. Tough nuggets! After finally getting the dress off, I realize that I have no sports bra to put on. “Oh well,” I think. “Cycling isn’t that jiggle-inducing,” and I tossed on my t-shirt and headed over to the loop to get my cycle on.

My information source said that the crits started at 6:30, giving me plenty of time to jet before folks started warming up for the races. My source was wrong. The sign posted on the loop said the first races started at 5:50, giving me exactly an hour to work out. Everything’s cool still, right? Right. Never mind I’m the only tri bike in sight and wearing a t-shirt and $15 sunglasses. It’s about the workout, not impressing some snooty cyclists. So I rode for my 10 minute warm-up, then am motioned to switch directions on the one way path by 4 or 5 guys going the other way (the crits race clockwise, which is opposite what the path signs indicate). Oops! I turned around. I mostly got passed by folks who don’t have to brake at every turn like I do, but it was okay. Occasionally I had to sit behind some slow cyclists who were taking up the whole lane, but eventually got around them. Then suddenly, the slow people picked up the pace and flew by me. Wow! I tried to catch up for the next 20 minutes and failed, but while doing so I’m going 20+ and EXCEEDING THE SPEED LIMIT on the course. This is immaterial and not even that fast for most, but it’s a helluva lot faster than the 15 mph average I was showing 5 weeks ago. I’m an animal! I’m amazing! Wait! I’m blocked in?

It was 5:50 and the riders had lined up across the entire path, and they were 2-3 deep. What? I’d assumed that someone would indicate we needed to clear the course before a freaking peloton zoomed past, but I was wrong. I slowed and made eye contact with a cyclist. “Excuse me, but do you know how to get out...” the freaking turdface ignored me because he’s a cyclist and cyclists are just about the meanest people in the sports world. This wasn’t that surprising, but while I was trying to get his attention, I’d slowed to almost a complete stop while clipped in. Before I could even finish my question, I toppled over while frantically trying to unclip. All 30 riders and their spectators turn to look at me in a heap under my bike. Someone laughed. I was mortified--more than I have been in years--but mostly fine. My bike computer wasn’t computing, my handlebar tape had a fresh gash, and my hand hurt from landing on it, but my pride was completely destroyed. Finally a spectator said I could probably get out around the edge of the riders (“they’re pretty nice guys” she said. Um, YEAH RIGHT), and I did. As I tip-toed through the edge of the crowd, someone said, “Keep up the hard work--you’ll get it” and “Good effort.” What is this, lollipop soccer? I’m a grown woman and was going a respectable pace the entire time. I just happened to forget to unclip, and it’s because I’m still getting used to my pedals (funny note: 30 minutes before this episode I was patting myself on the back for adjusting to the new pedals so quickly. Ha!). I mean, if you can’t ride the 1.2 mile picnic loop without getting pity comments (and laughter), where can you ride?

I immediately called my roommate and actually started crying. Sigh. My episode subsided rather quickly though, and I headed to the Y. There was a guy at the parking lot asking for passes, and I searched my keychain. Where the heck was my Y pass? After about a minute of looking he finally just told me to go on, and of course I found it after that (it’d been removed from my keyring when my car got serviced the other day). But somehow, 20 seconds later, I couldn’t find my keys. They all disappeared save my car key that was still in the ignition. Finally I gave up searching and went to swim.

Nothing happened in the pool except I peed. I love peeing in the pool. But when I got out of my shower after my workout, trouble popped up again: I had no bra to wear. I had no swimsuits to wear (strange b/c usually there’s 4 in my bag, not just one). I was leaving the Young Men’s Christian Association brazenly missing a bra--show #2 for the afternoon. Sigh... I’m a pinnacle of classiness.

I got home and started to tell this very story when I got interrupted at the no sports bra part. Roomie rudely insisted I was being silly for getting embarrassed about falling in front of complete strangers. What a completely wrong thing to say! We left for our friends where nothing bad happened (and where my hostess insisted that the fall was pretty effing embarrassing and it was okay to be upset. Ahem... thank you). And the badness ended.

Today I’m over it, but I still wanted to share. :-)

4 other things: 1) This was the last of the crits for the year. Praises! 2) I now have to swim with my fingers on my left hand rubber banded together. It sucks, but it works. Remind me to get my bike refitted when I get back from Wisconsin. 3) I found my keys under a pile of bike/swim stuff in my backseat-ish area--like I buried them. Sigh. 4) The weather right now is gorgeous! I never thought I’d say that during a week when it still “Feels Like” 90+, but, well, I did.

Crazy dreams linger on...

Patsy Cline reference (the title). Anyway--

Last night I had some crazy dreams. The first one I remember was talking to my tri friend Kay about her new job with a chemical company. Since the place wasn’t far from my job (we were in NYC too... I don't know why. I don't even like the place), I strolled over there about 9:00 AM on her first day at the new place, when lots of execs happened to be showing up. Well, they liked me and instantly hired me (for a LOT more than I’m making now...sad. But I love dreams). I accepted, but felt very strange since it was a Wednesday. Should I finish the week at my old job? Did I really want to leave my company? After all, I liked it a lot. I sorted through these problems by not actually working at my new job and just talking to Kay. It was super fun. Later, however, one exec told me to go get a new wardrobe because I wasn’t very fashionable (couldn’t I have let myself be fashionable in my own dream?? Sigh). She ended up taking me to this boutique, where I spent like effing $1300 on a dress, a purse I hated, and a pair of leather pants. Yes, leather pants. I was super pissed and was about the resolve the problem--somehow--when Lily woke me. Silly kitty!

The next dream was much cooler, though my girl Kay wasn’t hanging out with me. I was at IM Wisconsin whooping some ass. Oh yeah. I posted a 1:08 swim time, two transitions under 5:30, and a bike leg that averaged 15.9 mph (which is quite speedy for me). In the dream I was finishing up the run, and it was dark. Toward the finish line I kind of left my body--which, much like reality on the marathon of an IM, felt like shit--to watch myself finish in 12:51. 12:51! That’s a 10:18 run pace, probably way faster than what I’ll actually run, at least in WI. I train around 9:50 for my long runs, but I don’t think I’ll come close to that in the race. Of course, maybe I could if I actually followed my nutrition plan, especially on the bike. Though it was a dream, that finish was an incredible feeling. One day I’ll do it--in real life? After all, it’s high time I make some race goals that aren’t 100% feasible; achieving them every time (okay, both times) is getting old.

Crotch rocket

I got a new bike. It’s funny—every time I think “crotch rocket” I start singing “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner in my head. I don’t know what’s sadder, that I know the words (from the double disc Foreigner album I have at home… I’m a loser) or that I make such an absurd association. Anyway, I could jump right into talking about my ride, but that’s not my style; here’s the long road to on-topic prose:

Last week I had something of a well-being meltdown. Tuesday during hills I noticed that I felt really bad instead of the normal bad, but I chalked it up to the hot weather (as compared to the week before, not weather in general. It’s always hot here, remember?). On Wednesday I was scheduled to do my last superlong run, but my stomach had other ideas. After 12 miles I couldn’t go anymore. I didn’t even shower—just headed home, (showered,) choked down some rice, and hit the sack at 8:30. Sleep cures all.

Oh wait! No it doesn’t. Thursday I felt worse, and after a quick run in the morning that also ended in disappointment, I decided to take the afternoon off. Well, that’s not true; originally I was just going to go to spin class instead of tacking on the additional hour after class, but it took me 30 minutes to get out of the ^*%!ing parking garage at work; spinning classes were not in my future when I’d be that late. Instead, I went straight to the bike shop to purchase the ugly bike.

When I got there, the guy who’d helped me test ride bikes was gone, but the fitting specialist was there. I asked if he’d ever buy a bike he thought was ugly and he reacted quite strongly (no). This wasn’t helping me overcome my hesitation to drop a chunk on my new pony, but I made the plunge anyway. I’m better than that, right? Besides, I’d called every Felt dealer between here, Austin, and Dallas; there was not an S22 in my near future. If I wanted a new bike it had to be this one.

I meant to get a ride in with my new baby—dubbed Lucetta/Lucy—on Friday, but things didn’t work out between work and the desire to actually hang out with my roommate more than saying hi before eating the dinner and trucking to bed. Instead, we ate some mexican and went to bed early. Saturday would be the inaugural ride: 120 miles of (hopefully) bliss.

I had emailed George on Friday about the extreme shittiness I was feeling and he suggested a cut my ride to a more “reasonable distance.” I took this to mean 115 miles instead of 120. About 3 miles into the ride though, I was thinking I’d be lucky to squeeze out 20 given the unpleasant feeling in my crotch. Apparently this new seat was going to cut the mustard in all the wrong ways. By the time I got to the 23 mile mark where the group had stopped to refuel/let me catch up, I wanted a ride home in a car. I said I was cutting my ride to 40 miles til someone said they wanted to buy raffle tickets for my fundraiser; I then decided I could eek out 60 with the group to raise another $20. It’s for charity folks! Besides, I didn’t know where the turnoff was to take the 40 mile loop. A few minutes later we pressed on.

The ride got better. After mile 23 I didn’t get dropped again, and I sorta went numb about 30 miles in. Once I wasn’t distracted by the fire down below I really liked my Lucy, and could focus on exerting some effort on the road instead of finding creative ways of sitting to relieve my pain. I got to socialize a bit, work in a solid 60 miles, and become accustomed to my new baby, particularly the different shifting setup. By the end of the ride I was glad I didn’t wait around for my dream bike—I loved Lucy (awww). After all, she was plenty nice enough for me and an unbelievable improvement over Big Hoss. Besides, I don’t need to be one of those tri dbags that has an extraordinarily nice bike but is slow as crap… then I couldn’t make fun of them constantly (while also being insanely jealous of their disposable income). Besides, I’m a kid; when I’m over the hill (29) and need the extra incentive to train, I’ll roll up in a top of the line bike—and I’ll make sure it’s carbon too, because when I sell out I’m gonna go all the way. But my nasty side is making me digress… And I’m joking about the 29 by the way.

People always anticipate being faster on a new bike, even when they say they don’t have such silly expectations. The truth is, new bikes do make you faster. Initially when riding the new wheels one thinks, “Oh bummer, I’m not any faster than I was on my old beater bike.” Then comes the realization: throwing money at it won’t fix the problem. Personally having this experience will allow one—well, allowed me—to fully accept that reality and work even harder on the new bike than the one before. For me, I’m no longer ashamed of my bottom-of-the-line road bike with broken aerobars (though you can’t SEE they’re broken I still know), $30 mountain biking shoes, and non-fancy wheels because I no longer have those things save the non-fancy wheels. I’m on a tri bike that, while tacky as shit, is decent in the sea of expensive bikes it hangs out with on a regular basis. It’s easier to ride than my old bike, and (with my new seat that I replaced Saturday immediately after the ride) more comfortable. Riding is fun, and I’ve never genuinely said that before. I expect the next year to bring great breakthroughs in my biking abilities. Who knows, maybe I can drop another 2.6 hours from my time in Arizona 2007! Dare to dream.

Oh, I should mention that I actually am faster on my new bike than my old one. It could be the 5 lbs I lost (via the bike, not via the fat), the 650 wheels (which are actually faster, and the smaller tube size allows me to take 2 spares with me. Yippee!), or the joy of riding an actual tri bike. I also coughed up money for some Ultegra spd-sl’s instead of the spd’s I had on my old bike. I’m all grown up!

I forgot about the other bad thing that happened Saturday/Sunday (I rode again to test out my new women’s specific saddle. Allow me to get off topic and say the WSD bike design I’m not totally buying into, but I’ll be damned if my lady parts ever sit on a “unisex” saddle again). I bought a new pair of cycling gloves because my 4 year old pair is starting to wear through the palms. Unfortunately, the seat fiasco Saturday had me up on the handlebars more than I intended, and my palms were pretty numb. Bummer, huh? On Sunday, however, the problem escalated. My palms were again numb, but this time I couldn’t get full control of my pinkie finger on my left hand. I freaked because hey, that's what I named my blog. But, I figured it’d be better by Monday. Indeed, there was vast improvement there, though I couldn’t exactly swim since my fingers refused to stay together on my left hand. I assumed I’d continue to get better, but I haven’t. I’m starting to worry I’ve done permanent damage to my hand, which would obviously suck a lot. I’m heading out to swim right now and think I might have to put a rubber band around my fingers to keep them together. Does anyone know if that’s legal in a sanctioned race? I hope so or I’m S-C-R-E-W-D screwed. Hey, at least I’ll have a decent bike split, right?

Shot through the heart

Yesterday when digging through the pile that is "months of crap to file" looking for my Rudy Project discount, I came across the July issue of Outside. Floyd Landis glared at me from the cover, and it nearly broke my heart. Just when I thought there was hope for love, admiration...

I'll never have another sports hero again. :-(

(another interesting thought: Outside weighs heavily on my opinions about all things sports. I want to go to Iceland for the summer solstice because Outside told me it was incredible [was supposed to go with my mom one day and chase puffin babies, soak in hot springs, and ride bikes :-(]. I don't like Dean Karnazes despite his being a badass because of an article run in Outside about some female ultra chick who psuedo-fueds with the guy. I think mountain biking is cool in part because of Outside... and in part because it is cool, but still. What do you think about using Ironman® branded products, Outside? I need to know my opinion.)

Buyer's crisis

I’m buying a bike this week. Well, in theory I am.

I went shopping all weekend after weeks of comparing prices, specs, and materials online. What I found was that August is a bad time to buy a bike if you ride a 52. Why? Because the new model year comes out in September and the bike you’ve been lusting after for the past two years won’t be available in any bike shop in the entire city. Or something.

But despite that, I found a bike I love. I rode more expensive bikes and made bitter beer faces while doing so. This lovable bike, while from a brand I don’t like and a line I downright despise, felt like it was made for me. And it was $1000 less than my budget! Sounds like a dream, right?

NO. It just so happens that the 2005 Cannondale Ironman 800 (only in blue) is the ugliest bike I’ve laid eyes on. It’s way nastier than the bike about which I’ve been dreaming for all these long months: the Felt S22. Never mind I can’t find an S22 to test ride to save my life, and that it’s very likely I won’t like it. What do I know about what I like? Before last weekend would have guessed that the Cervélo I rode would have made my heart melt instead of my stomach rumble in displeasure (though it could have been because I was hungry. OR because I hated the bike… one of the two). Expensive doesn’t mean totally awesome when it comes to comfort, but I can’t let go of this dream bike, even when I have something I’ll love within my grasp.

But why am I being so silly about the way my bike looks? Hero George has the IM 800 and I don’t remember thinking his bike was ugly. Of course, George is so fast he could have just been a blue streak whizzing past me. And didn’t I learn in college that hot guys were way more likely to be dumb or not funny than the average or dorky looking ones? I am SOO over being shallow, and shouldn’t it be easier with an inanimate object than a person? Well yes, in theory.

Lists help me sort shit out.
Here are my problems with the bike:
* It’s unattractive and I identify with my transportation aides: my truck, my current Felt, my Mizunos
* It has 650c wheels, and while I’m all about accelerating/decelerating faster, they’re not standard
* It’s the same year as the bike I’m riding now since I bought Big Hoss at the beginning of the 2005 model year
* It’s a Cannondale
* It only has one place for a water bottle cage and I don’t like the ass grabbing seat stem water bottle holders
* It’s ugly
* It’s an Ironman® product, which isn’t my style (I think it’s borderline pretentious, especially because I’m slow)
* It’s $1000 less than I wanted to spend (and $950 less than the S22) so its components aren’t as nice… not that I could tell, but still
* It’s ugly as shit

Here’s what I like:
* It’s the most comfortable bike I've test rode by a loooooong shot
* It has Carbon Stryke aerobars, which I wanted to put on my bike anyway
* It’s a tri bike! I’m so grown up!
* It feels like half the weight of my last bike when really it’s only 4-6 lbs lighter
* It’s inexpensive enough that I can justify the $200 new tri cycling shoes I just bought
* It’s aluminum
* If I ever buy racing wheels in the future, they’ll be cheaper for 650s than 700s

Here’s what I like about the imaginary S22:
* It’s a brand I love
* It’s gorgeous
* It has nicer components
* It has 700c wheels on the 52 frame
* It has 11-23 freewheel versus 12-23, so the jumps in gears are slightly more noticeable
* It's also a tri bike
* It’s also aluminum
* I’ve been yearning for it since I first laid eyes on it last year

And what I don’t like:
* It’s punch-in-the-gut expensive for me
* I don’t know what size frame I need since my current 54 is too big but the 50 seems small
* It doesn’t have Profile Design handlebars, and I really like them because you can adjust them so much
* Again, only one water bottle cage spot on the frame
* IT’S NOT IN THE CITY OF HOUSTON

The obvious solution to my problem is to drive to Dallas and buy the bike I love. Oh wait, no. The obvious solution is to wait 3-6 weeks for the new S22s to hit Houston. When it’s so close to potential elation, why not wait? Well, the most obvious reason is Ironman Wisconsin. I have my longest ride this weekend and a (hilly!) 60-80 miler next weekend, so the timing is just right to get a new bike tested out and adjusted before the race; waiting any longer could spell disaster. So why not wait until after IM WI and buy it? Because of--hopefully--law school. IM Arizona will be my last full one til post-law school, and who knows when I’ll fit the next IM in since I see marriage not so far down the road. If I get a new bike, it has to be this week or not til I’m a rich and joyless lawyer. Another reason to not wait is that the price of the S22 has been increasing from year to year, and in September my $2600 ceiling will not be high enough to accommodate it. If I can’t afford it later, why wait? Finally, what if I wait to try this bike and I don't like it? What then? All my patience will be for naught and I'll still be buying the Cannondale.

If I get my way, however, Big Hoss shall not be taken to Wisconsin.

I was supposed to go purchase the Cannondale on Tuesday, but I couldn’t get there because of a fun (sarcastic fun) hill workout and spinning afterward. Tonight I’m doing my last long run (hooray!), so I can’t afford the time to jet to the bike shop. Tomorrow, however, I will have ample opportunity to choose reality over my dream. I don’t know what to do and time is running out! Any suggestions?

Insult to injury

I’m not sure if you’re supposed to learn something on every key training session, but I seem to. Two weeks ago I learned you’re not supposed to wear underwear with your cycling shorts (honestly, how are you supposed to learn that if no one pulls you aside and tells you?). Last week I learned that running 17+ on the treadmill is like running 10 miles outside in August. The past week I’ve picked up even more.

Sunday I was scheduled to do a 90 mile ride. This would be my first ride that I did completely alone, but I figured it was basically just like riding with people who’d dropped me a few miles in (which would basically be anyone capable of riding 90 miles). I didn’t put enough long rides in on my actual bike for Arizona, and I’ve been determined to not allow myself to do the same for Wisconsin. Anyway, the plan was to do the 59 mile Ironstar half IM course, then ride to Richards and back, a 33 mile addition. The ride went pretty well despite the fatigue in my legs from my long run two days before. The course, which I’d ridden 2 of the past 3 weeks, is a simple loop with some rolling hills. Despite my familiarity with the course, near the end of the loop I made a wrong turn and added about 3 miles to the trip. Oops! No biggie, I thought. After I finished the loop, I started the out and back portion of the ride. It was getting hot since I hadn’t started til 8:30, but I was hanging in there because I had so little left to do. Finally, I finished the out and back and turned to head back home.

...except I turned down the wrong street. The last time I’d added to the course I’d missed the safer turnoff to home and had to ride on a major road for a mile or two extra. It was very nerve-wracking, and I was determined to not pass my safe journey home. Unfortunately, in my zeal to avoid said turn I took a wrong one 0.1 miles early. I realized I’d made a mistake when I was about 3 miles out—about the time I ate my last Clif Blok and ran out of water. Fuck. I turned around, got on the right road, and crawled home. All told I spent about a half hour without food and water, which might have been a little more comfortable if it hadn’t been in the 2:00 PM hour. By the time I got back to my car I was in no mood to do a run-- after all, I'd added over 9 miles to my intended ride--so I packed up, drove home, and took a cool shower.

What did I learn in all this? A lesson I should have known months ago: always bring enough hydration/nutrition. It’s worth it to have an extra water bottle or gel with you at the end of the ride in case something unexpected happens--like, for example, getting lost twice. All of this is especially ridiculous because I did stop to buy some water (and a Coke...I was craving one, and it probably kept me from running out of food even earlier) at mile 40. Next time I guess I’ll buy two bottles. :-(

Fast forward to last night. After my wild success doing my long run on a treadmill last week I was planning on doing it again this week. The plan: 18.5 miles, one Clif Shot electrolyte drink, 2 GUs, a bag of Bloks, and an iPod. I also decided to try out my new sports bra and shorts I bought during tax free weekend last Friday. I was a little nervous about the long run since I’d rolled my ankle doing hills on Tuesday night, but figured I could stop if it really bothered me. Well, the run went great—I felt good til mile 17, had no GI troubles, and was pretty jazzed about what music came up on my shuffled playlist. My ankle also felt just fine, at least while I was running.

When I finished my run I stretched, wiped down my ‘mill, then headed to the shower. That’s when I found the largest and nastiest chafe mark on my chest that I’ve had in recent history. So much for my new awesome bra! In addition, the cut on my stubbed toe (I closed it in a sliding closet door on Monday and proceeded to bleed all over the bathroom… gross, huh?) was also aching and swollen, along with my rolled ankle. I was falling apart.

I went home and was fretting about all these non-injury afflictions to my boyfriend, to which he responded, “yeah but it beats a torn ACL.” Eh, I guess. Still, in an ideal world it would be quite wonderful to stay properly hydrated, unchafed, and avoid stubbing one’s toes (which I've done twice in a week).

I’m pretty stoked for the next month and can hardly believe my race is just 31 short days away. I only have three long rides and one long run left! The end is near and very very bright… so long as I can avoid rubbing off my skin or hitting my clunky toes on nearby objects. Train and learn, right?

I used to think I was at least part-time awesome

Now I know better. Waaay better.

There are only 4 people from Houston doing Ironman Wisconsin. 4! I thought folks were scared of hills and only the baddest of asses would race on terrain they have 0 access to. Now that it’s August, I realize that the reason so few H-towners hit up Madison is because it feels nearly impossible to train in 100+ heat every day. Who knew? At least I can kind of chalk up my stupidity to the fact I was living in Ohio when I signed up and simply forgot I was returning to my hotcake city in a few weeks. Live and learn I guess.

But yeah, it’s really hot. I reserve the right to complain this summer since it’s my first full one in Houston, but I’ll have to stop soon since it’s SO hot that no one even complains about it. Last night when I rolled up to the high school to do my intervals at 6:45 it was 97 with the heat index. “What is wrong with me?” I thought as I got out of my sweet air conditioned truck. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing that was wrong with the group of ~20 Houston Fit folks already doing intervals. It’s miserable for everyone, not just me… and yet, lots of people are out busting their hineys to get in workouts in the great outdoors. It’s rather inspiring.

But running a few intervals for a fall marathon and riding 95 miles in the middle of the day are a little different. One is tough. The other is ignorant. I’m never doing IM Wisconsin again simply because training for a September race on the gulf coast is too much for my blood (and my electrolyte balance). That said, the calendar turn has really been as wonderfully motivating as I imagined in July. It sorta doesn’t make sense to me--why does it get progressively easier to train for a race when what your body goes through gets harder? Maybe that’s a sign I’m in the right sport despite disliking biking (by the way, why don’t people question why non-swimmers are triathletes? They still only like 2 sports, same as me. I’m minorly offended every time someone questions my reasons for triathleting) (no, triathleting is not a word). As a comparison, I hate training for marathons and have yet to put in more than 4 weeks for one--my first--yet months of IM training comes with only a little self-prodding. I will say part of the problem with marathons is that now that I’ve done an ironman I mentally can’t commit to *just* running 26.2. Dude, not only am I a dumbass--I’m also a snob. Oh, and anything but awesome.

(By the way, I can't chew gum when I run. It makes me violently gastrointenstinally "stressed" afterward. Just wanted to share. :-)

Master plan gone sour

Sometimes training is hard, and it’s not when you’d expect it. I have no trouble gearing up and busting ass (literally) for a long ride or for intervals. My long run never gets skipped, and I not only show up to key pool sessions, I mentally prepare for them as well. There are 5 workouts I never miss: the long ride, bike intervals/spinning, the long run, real intervals, and speedwork in the pool.

Don’t think I only work out 5 times a week, though that’d be cool. It’s just that a lot of the rest of the stuff in my schedule feels like filler. It’s the sessions I call “working out” instead of “training” that I never want to get in. Long swims feel sooo much longer than they actually are, especially considering they’re usually shorter total yardage than other workouts. It’s just swimming 45 minutes straight is boring (at least for the first 10 minutes… and isn’t that the most important hurdle anyway?) Bike for 90 minutes on Tuesday? WHY? To eat up my social life and make me want to shoot myself in the face? Eek! Don’t get me wrong—even the filler workouts have a purpose and help prepare me for my race. I just have a tendency to miss about one a week.

Such a miss occurred yesterday. I had a master plan for the day: swim in the morning, lift at lunch, go home and mop/clean kitchen/maybe get upstairs ready for guests, go to a volunteer meeting, go spin for 90 mins (since it would be almost 9 before I got to the Y), come home, go to sleep, wake up Wednesday and get in a 4000 before getting to work early, go home early and meet the friend who’d just gotten into town. It was genius. Genius until it was raining til after 7 PM yesterday. I lifted at lunch, made it home to clean and realized our kitchen was really dirty. I reasoned that a meeting announced on Monday for a race a month away wasn’t high on the priority list (the real reason I wanted to go was because there was free Star Pizza. Good stuff.) and continued cleaning til I’d finished the kitchen and the floors. By then it was 7:30 and I decided I’d take a quick nap.

I could finish there, but what’s the fun in that? My 30 minute nap extended to almost two hours, despite my boyfriend trying to get me up every 15 minutes or so. Try as he might, he couldn’t rouse me from a dream I never remembered. Finally, when I got up there would only be time for 30 minutes on the bike, and I gave up on my workout. I decided I could get up early easily for a long swim today.

I woke up at 5:50 to rain and laziness. My plan for the day was shot, so I just went to work early (after a stop at the Y to pick up my bag from last night). In retrospect I realize I shouldn’t have even tried to go to the meeting; instead, I should have just gone straight to work out, then home to clean. I probably would have gone to bed early and, well, still gotten up to rain. But still—what if my being lazy this morning actually caused the rain? One never really knows.

Normally this break in the schedule would cause me to leave work early or something else drastic to keep me from “making up” the workouts this weekend, but it’s a recovery week. I should be resting, stretching, and preparing for the hardest month of my training. Instead, I’ve been sore and achy all week; I never fully “recovered” from my brick on Sunday before lifting Monday and doing some quality bike intervals Tuesday. As if to hit this point home even harder, I couldn’t give blood Tuesday because my iron was too low. What? Aren’t I the epitome of cardiovascular health? How could I possibly be low in iron? Maybe my body actually needs to recover during recovery week… I’m taking a couple days off (to entertain my guests!) to follow the lead.

Next week is a new month, and somehow the change in the calendar works wonders on my desire to train. I’m pretty stoked that the end is in sight—til after “the end” when I recover from Wisconsin and start training for Ironstar. Still, there’s an end to the 17+ mile runs, the many hours in the saddle over Texas (mole)hills. There’s a purpose to what I’m doing. Despite my having my longest hours ahead of me, I’m relieved it’ll soon be August and the race is so close at hand.

Now I’m going to go “recover” with my college roommates who are coming to visit. :)

Flushed

Yesterday Floyd Landis blew his load on the last ascent of the stage 16 and what seemed like his chances to be on the podium. I thought about that a lot during my long run (16 miles of SUCK in the Houston heat... it shouldn’t be over 100 at 6:30 PM, and it shouldn’t be 90 at 9 PM either... okay, I’m finished whining) and decided I’d write a post about it. Why? Because I was heartbroken. I don’t follow cycling too much (except in 2002 when I lived in Amarillo and had nothing else to watch), partly because I strongly dislike Lance Armstrong and partly because the big names of the sport don’t seem to change year to year. And let's be honest: it's been pretty boring the last 6 years (the first year I hear was good, but I didn't watch. And neither did you, so don't lie). This year, however, was different. Outside magazine ran a few articles on American cyclists last month, the main one about Landis and how he was a 100% manly man badass warrior who could win the Tour. I bought it hook, line, and sinker--here was a man after my own heart, not some selfish fake prick in the sport for the wrong reasons (ahem, Lance). It also helps he and Lance used to have an open rivalry, one that I hope is just a secret one now. Anyway, I eagerly read my daily stage results and looked for Landis’s name, and was overjoyed the first time he took yellow. When he reclaimed the yellow jersey a couple days later, I was ecstatic and was sure he’d keep it. Needless to say, yesterday was a very bitter disappointment. In my mind I could see Lance watching the stage (he arrived at the Tour yesterday with French papers headlining “Welcome in France, Asshole.” Were there ever truer words spoken?) and saying something offhand about how Landis just wasn’t the man. How he’d cleaned up at this point in the tour year after year. The timing of Armstrong’s arrival just made it even bitterer for me. I finished my run even more sullen than I began it.

Today I wasn’t looking forward to the email detailing the stage results, but I had to see this thing through. “Maybe he could make up a minute or two,” I thought. “Maybe he could have the most amazing time trial in the history of the Tour on Saturday. Maybe everyone in the top 10 would crash.”

None of those things happened.

Instead, Landis blew everyone out of the water and took the stage, 5+ minutes over his next contender and 7+ minutes (with the bonus) over Pereiro, launching himself into 3rd place, 0:30 behind Pereiro and 0:12 behind Sastre. Holy crap!

Regardless of what happens in the rest of the tour, Landis is my hero. I like how he loves the sport, needs a hip replacement, and is kind of awkward in interviews. I like that he doesn't whore himself for endorsements and that he looks like a cyclist and not like a Hollywood wannabe. He epitomizes what I think athletes should be like. He went out today with a hero’s will and accomplished the impossible, and what’s even better is he did it alone. There was no one to draft part of the time, no one to silently (or not? Hell, I don’t know) suffer with--it was just him and his bike. A man like that is the kind that I want to be like, or at least look up to.

I can’t wait til the time trial Saturday. Go Landis!

Like everyone else

I don’t think we realize how connected we are. Too often we insist on feeling isolated, different, special--as if being distinguished from the crowd makes us better, happier. It doesn’t. The truth is we’re interwoven more than we allow ourselves to realize. Support from friends and strangers alike allow us to tell ourselves we’re unique, and we take it in like it’s the air we breathe. I don’t think we need to cling to special anymore. Isn’t it better to be loved, encouraged, able to flourish to your potential than to pat yourself on the back for staying your course alone? It sounds so conceited it’s laughable, but we all do it. My tri friends do it because they bust their asses hours a day. My smart friends do it because people are dumbasses. My engineer friends do it because most people are absurdly frightened of numbers or have no sense at all. Of course, I’m included in every one of those groups... I wish I could say I’ve always considered that being distinctive was the biggest lie we tell ourselves (it probably is by the way), but I just thought about it today. We all have scars that define us, distance us from others—but we all have them. And isn’t that my point?

The guy in charge of my freshman year dorm said something similar to me 6 years ago, but I wasn't quite ready to hear it. I was fretting about my cramped living quarters and lifestyle clashes with one of my roommates, and he listened attentively. After we dealt with the problem he said something along the lines of "It amazes me how many experiences we all share, but we feel so alone. Maybe if we were more open with each other we wouldn't have to make the same mistakes over and over again." I nodded and left because I wasn't really listening-- I was getting a new room when I returned from winter break! When I got back though, J.T. was gone... a huge bummer because not only was he a great asset to the South 40, I'd also never thanked him properly for his support.

Where’d all this come from? Oh, a little thing called fundraising. Right now I’m raising money for the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund via the Janus Charity Challenge. The JCC is a program for Ironman competitors to race for something besides hardware (and let’s face it: my AZ age group finish will be the last for a long while). I initially set what seemed like a lofty goal of $2,000 and was afraid to ask anyone if they’d donate. Why? Because I felt alone. Why would anyone care about my cause? Their moms probably weren’t dead from ovarian cancer. When I did finally bite the bullet and send out some emails (what could it hurt?) I was astounded at the response. People whose lives have been touched by ovarian cancer donated. Friends of mine--and friends of friends--who don’t give a rat’s behind about what I’m promoting gave money, and people I don’t even know donated because they appreciate what I’m doing or why I'm doing it. My family expressed utter surprise I’d even finished ONE ironman, let alone was training for my third—I never tell them stuff like that because I assume they wouldn’t care. It turns out they do. It’s been amazing, and great motivation... something I need in the sweltering Tropic of Houston.

If you’re feeling generous, here is the link to my fundraising site:
http://www.januscharitychallenge.com/wi06/mishelek
You can read my story and help out if you want—and I urge you to. Gosh it is SO MUCH EASIER to fundraise when you care about what you’re doing! I want to raise as much money as I can because I believe strongly in the OCRF objectives. More importantly, I don’t want to let my mom’s memory down, and those are the best reasons I can come up with.

You want to know something else? Only about 30-50 athletes of the 1800+ in the race choose to participate in the program...and being a part of a group that small makes me feel downright special.

Best 4th of July ever

I've been too lazy to recount my superfun Tuesday from a couple weeks back--I'm sure you're heartbroken about that. Well, the title says it all! I had the best day ever.

My holiday started at 5:20. I wanted to run the Freedom 5k in Sugarland because I haven't run one since I was in high school (I think). Why did I pick this race over the one that started down the street from me? Because it was sponsored by the Kolache Factory, my favorite place to eat. Anyway, it was super muggy and looked like it was going to rain the entire time. I was decked out in my Snickers goodies-- my hat and tri top-- and decided that I was too cool to warm up (you just look so silly and it was just a 5k). It was a mistake I won't make again. Anyway, the run was a pleasant little loop through cute suburban streets. I realized at the mile marker that I wasn't going to make my 24:30 goal, but I hung in there and ended up with nearly perfectly even splits on my miles. At the 3 mile marker I felt like I was gonna heave and didn't get to finish quite as hard as I wanted to. Well, it turned out to not matter since I barfed at the finish anyway (not a lot... mostly water really. Still, very gross). It was like HS cross country all over again, only without the eating disorders! :)

After the race (and getting kolaches and pilfering Snickers Marathon bars even though I get them for free) I headed to the Y for a swim test set-- and I rocked it. What a workout! I was feeling fine by the time I got home around noon and joined my roomie in preparing for our holiday festivities.

The plan was to grill out on our new baby grill and play beer pong because the couple coming over had never played. We even bought a table dedicated to the great game! We had hot dogs, ground beef, veggies, chips, s'mores supplies, a 12 pack of Shiner to enjoy, and a 24 pack of Miller Lite to play with. It was a nice spread. Our friends arrived soon after I got back (with corn and sausages!), and we ate chips, veggies, and shot the breeze while a World Cup game was on. Shortly thereafter we began playing beer pong on the porch and it was a HIT! We played til most of the night. We never got around to grilling, but it was a great day. The best day, really. :)

Of course, I took the next day off from working out; roomie justified it by saying that my 4th festivities between workouts and intense pong competition was a lot on a body and I shouldn't push it. I agreed.

If I had my way all the time I'd have a great workout, pick up the house, and play drinking games every weekend. If that's not balance I don't know what is.

Motivation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crazy week

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

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

Florida is prettier than Texas

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

Hey, just an idea.

Worst idea ever

Never again am I going to an ironman without a travel companion. I still think it’s dumb (and selfish) to make someone suffer through an entire wasted day of watching me torture myself when I could just as easily do it at home around Memorial and on my trainer. I didn’t see a need to bring a support team--in my family-less case at least--until now. In the future it will be tough luck for whomever comes with me, because SOMEONE WILL be coming with me. I won’t admit that I can’t do the weekend alone because I just did, but having someone there to support me when I can’t make it myself would be really nice. I made it back home, but I sure as hell don’t know how! Between collecting the 37 bags of equipment (plus my bike) and hauling a huge computer bag, huge duffel bag, and huge bike box, I was pooped when I saw Houston again. I don’t even want to TALK about putting together/taking apart my bike or my various skin ailments. Let’s just say there was a lot of talking to myself and a ton of tears.

So anyway, allow me to give a painfully detailed account of how I raced this weekend (since that’s probably more interesting than the logistics of carrying many heavy bags by myself). I rocked. Either I don’t make difficult enough goals, I am better than I think I am, or I just competed like a champ, but I shattered every goal I had except one. Here are my splits:
1:06:12 swim (6:48 faster than goal)
6:28 T1 (00:32 faster than goal)
7:25:06 (14:54 faster than goal)
9:04 T2 (2:04 SLOWER than goal... I had some sunscreen/sunglasses/hair tie troubles. I’m over it now.)
4:52:30 run (7:30 faster than goal)
TOTAL: 13:39:18--27:42 faster than my highest expectations, 58:42 faster than goal

Even though you’re not supposed to compare ironman times from different courses, that time sure looks a lot better than 15:58, doesn’t it? I also got some hardware by placing 5th in my age group (plaque, fancy socks, and a gel flask!). Before you think my expanding head is floating to the stratosphere, I know my time isn’t that impressive in the super scheme of things... I wouldn’t have made it to the podium with my time unless I was under 25 or over 50 years old. Of course, I won’t really care about that until next year when I age up. Right now, I’m very proud of myself, if only because of my significant improvement.

Now I’ll give the play-by-play.
The swim
The swim is a wade start, which means you have to float around near the start line for 10-15 mins and hope you don’t lose circulation in your feet. That kind of sucked, but it still beat a beach start. I thought a good plan would be to start at the front of the line and the middle of the pack--taking the inside of the loop would probably mean getting a black eye. I figured on the way back in the crowd would have thinned and I could take the inside. Well, the way out was great; I only got kicked in the face once and didn’t kick anyone myself. I took the turn close to the buoys and headed inside for the way home. Everything went according to plan--the crowd had thinned, and I was going to minimize my trip back to transition and be a hero. The only problem was that since I wasn’t swimming with a group of people, I didn’t have anyone to sight for me (sighting is sticking your head out of the water to see where the heck you’re going). My lazy ass figured I could just swim near someone and be fine. Unfortunately, I can’t swim straight and I ended up zigzagging like it was my job; I added at least 2-3 mins to my swim time in just the last ½ mile. I didn’t have any expectations once I hit the ground to have my wetsuit removed, and that lack of expectation was fulfilled--the time read 1:21. “Wow I am SLOW” I thought as I glanced at my watch (which read 1:06). I realized the clock had started with the pros and was 15 minutes longer than my real time. Boy was I elated! I’d taken the swim easy and still beaten my goal!

T1
My first transition: swell. In retrospect, it’s very sad that I didn’t get any sunscreen on my back or legs, as they’d end up very burnt (and a nice rash on my legs, which do not care much for the sun). A bummer, but a minor one.

The bike
I felt really great hitting the first loop of the bike. The wind was at my back on the way out, which happens to be all slightly uphill. At the turnaround I even went to the bathroom, something I’d never done in a race (usually I like to pretend I’m a pro and stay right on the edge of my hydration requirements). What a proud moment! :-) I finished lap 1 well under goal pace and my legs still felt fresh. Then my ass started to hurt. I hate my bike seat with a burning, bruised, chafed passion, and that’s sad since my seat is *new*. I’d like to kick the guy at Cyclone Cycles on the foot for selling it to me. It blows. But I digress... lap 2 the wind started picking up, making the trip home pretty rough. In this lap I stopped to loosen my shoe; a volunteer had put it on for me (too tight) and my foot was numb. I was still sitting pretty (well, not literally) into lap 3, where I also stopped for some lame reason again at the halfway point (“get more salt tablets”). These stops added 5-6 mins to my time, but did a lot to clear my head. I hopped off the bike ahead of schedule and headed to T2 surrounded by cheers from the crowd.

T2
Transition 2 wasn’t my best. I had stopped drinking (why??? I’m so dumb in the heat) on the second half of the bike and my brain decided to take a union break. I scrambled for my clothes and finally made it out the sunscreen put’er-on’ers. The volunteer sprayed my freaknasty chafed/burned neck, and I thought I was going to die from the sting. I didn’t. Unfortunately, my legs were again forgotten in the shuffle and continued to crisp in the Arizona sun. Sad, huh?

The run
Despite my skin injuries, I felt good. GREAT. I felt great starting the run in Florida too; I just love getting off that stinkybutt bike. My first mile was 10:20 and I’d walked the water stop. This was considerably faster than my 11:30/mile goal pace, so I was afraid it wouldn’t last. Still, I had plenty of time to add before I had to worry about missing my goal splits. I decided then that this race was my bitch. I mostly held my pace for the next few miles until I ran into Troy, a 44 year old accountant from Maryland, who was on his second lap. We ran and chatted for about 6 or 7 miles at about 10:15 pace. The fast pace and my lack of fluid intake started to get to me, so I wished him well as he slowly got away from me. I started to have Nasty Stomach, a common ailment for endurance folks. I decided it was all in my head and I needed to assure my stomach that it was imperative that it continue to do its job. The organ talk worked, and soon I was feeling okay again. Night fell (finally!) and then Crazy started setting in. Yes, if it’s not one thing it’s another with me! Every water stop and every time I crossed a timing mat, I wanted to cry, and I can’t exactly say why. I was hoping someone at home was following my race online, and just the thought of someone hitting refresh and cheering my progress made me choke up. This always brings on an asthma attack a few mins after the tears, so I decided that if I wanted to finish in my new goal time of 13:45 (so that even with the 15 mins added from the pro start I’d be under 14 on the clock) I’d simply have to dissociate. I pretended that I was not running the race, and the pain that I observed was not mine; therefore, I could press on, pick up my pace, and worry about achieving my goal splits. After mile 17 I promised myself I could cry a few minutes after I finished, but until then I had a goal and no excuses to make for missing 13:45. I had to deliver. Yes folks, the best way to fight Crazy is with more Crazy. The race was again mine; my game worked and 1 minute after finishing, I burst into tears, but ahead of schedule.

So yeah, I finished (sans asthma attack--yesss) and as soon as I told my helper that I was fine, I broke down. After my exhibition round of tears, I went to eat. It sucked. Fresh hot pizza sucked. I sucked. Bananas sucked. My feet sucked. Feeling down, I got in a long line for a massage. While I was waiting I heard a guy asked why it was taking so long. Someone in charge replied that they were losing therapists left and right. This bummed me out, so I looked at my watch to see how long I had to pick up my bike. My watch said 11:45 (transition closed at midnight). Of course, I hadn’t changed my watch from Houston time, but I was too tired to remember that. With more than 2 hours to do so, I rushed off to get my stuff out of transition, then called Craig. And cried. A lot. I felt so pitiful and helpless and alone... I had no interest in talking about how well I’d done. I just cried. After that, I picked myself up, got to my rental car, and took my bike apart (crying of course). Then I drove to my hotel and viewed the damage: severe chafing in every place you can’t talk about with strangers (armpits, chest, crotch, inner thighs, neck), sunburn just about everywhere, and minor sun poisoning on my thighs. 2 teensy blisters on my feet (I love Mizuno running shoes!) and 3 toes that were numb. Oh, and I was a little sore. :-) Satisfied that I wasn't going to die in the night, I went to bed but I slept really poorly.

I think it’s funny how your body comes to a point where it needs sleep so badly but can’t get it. Maybe next time I’ll take some sleeping pills (or at least Tylenol PM, the greatest medicine ever).

Oh! It was hot during the race, but I didn't think it was too bad (I think the high was 88 or 90). I feel like a bad person for saying this since so many had trouble with the heat: 11.2% of the field didn't finish, and that's a LOT of folks. Maybe hot weather really is growing on me!

Monday I hit up the awards ceremony and then headed north to Tonto State Park. I was determined to see something nature-y while I was there, and I’m glad I did. I had a good time and would love to explore more when I’m in town next... hopefully next year for IM AZ 2007, but the rumor mill says they’re moving the race to November or October. Eff that, man. I’m only doing it if it’s a spring race. If that is the case, maybe 2007 is the time for Ironman New Zealand? Time will tell.

So that was the race. I was fully un-sore by Wednesday and un-stiff by Thursday, some unreal healing if you ask me. However, I’m still very tired; I am getting a lot of sleep and it’s still not enough. I’m anxious to get back into the swing of things so I can work on my cycling game; Ironman Wisconsin is in less than 5 months! I am still reeling from achieving all my goals--where do I go from here? The Wisconsin course is considerably hillier than Arizona, so I can’t be too ambitious with time goals. I’m going to have to see how my training pans out, but I want to at least maintain the same (modest) bike pace I kept on this course. Ideally I’d also continue with my running progress and hold 10:50 pace (which is a 4:44 marathon). The running goal should be easier for me than the bike one now that I’ve seen how my quality long runs and speed workouts are paying off... I LIKE putting in the time on foot. Now I just need to get my ass in that saddle--

Thanks for reading! And if you want to see some pictures, take a look here:
http://www.asiorders.com/view_user_event.asp?EVENTID=10039&BIB=886

I WANT to wet my pants

… but I’ll hold off for now. This is quite possibly my most exciting week in recent history. I leave for Tempe on Friday to race in my second Ironman (my first branded one). The weather forecast is as close as Arizona can get to Texas—a high of 86, no rain, and a merciful 21% humidity. Assuming I don’t evaporate into the desert, I should be able to handle the heat with strength and grace. I have racing wheels. I trained about twice as hard as I did for my last IM (and have marginal weight loss to show for it). To say the least, I’m excited! I’m so very stoked!

If you want to sneak a peek at my progress, you can look on ironmanlive.com. They provide full coverage (even for the slow people like me!)--just type in my sweet sweet name or my number (886 for life, baby!) and point and laugh. If you get FSN Arizona there’s a highlight show on Sunday at 10PM. Since I may not even be finished yet, don’t look for me there.

My last IM was just under 16 hours, and I’m hoping to keep my head in the game and really improve my time this go-round. Wanna know my goals? Well, tough. I’m afraid I won’t make them and therefore don’t want to share. But I suppose there’s no harm…
1) Finish. Short of near-death experience or complete bike failure, I will see
this through.
2) Beat my last time of 15:58:43. Because come on, I could kick October Mishele’s ass.
3) Finish under 14:30. Fourteen hours has such a nice ring to it.
4) Run a 5:00 marathon. This is 11:27 min miles, way slower than my training pace, slow training pace, or super slow training pace. Seeing as I’ve run marathons without even training and come in around 4:30, I can do this with some focus.
5) Goal splits: 1:13 swim, 7:40 bike, and 5:00 run (with 7 min transitions… slow and attainable changing time)—total 14:07.

During a bickering point this spring I told my boyfriend not to go to the race. It seemed like a good idea at the time because he’d surely distract and annoy me: not because he’s distracting and annoying, but because traveling and stress make me just about as unpleasant to him as possible. I figured I’d spare him the heartache and me the additional stress—but still, I’m sad. I don’t want to be there all alone. College buddy George will be competing as well, so at least I’ll know someone. I'm pretty excited to see George; he's the hardest-training triathlete I know, and he's a cool guy to boot.

In other triathlon news (is there other news?), I got an email yesterday from the Snickers Marathon Team. Anyone who’s been down the Bar Aisle at the grocery store knows that Snickers offers some lines of energy bars called Marathon bars (They have energy and low carb and protein ones... something for everyone). Anyway, they have a team of age-grouper athletes--like me--that they sponsor. I applied to join the team with the reasonable expectation of a consolation prize (box of Marathon Energy bars, please? Any flavor will do). But imagine my surprise when I got the team acceptance email! I’m so stoked! The thing that makes all of this better is I really like the Snickers Marathon bars--I don’t even have to fake it! Yessssss. I’m officially a sponsored athlete. In case you're wondering, I don't know how many people make the "Team," so it's entirely possible I'm extremely special or extremely non-special. At any rate, I now have yet another reason to train hard. Ooh, I hope my picture ends up on their website... then I’d be a celebrity. Wouldn't that be so cool?

I’m off again. I am so excited I can hardly sit still! Look for an update next week. :-D

Intervals!

My favorite part of triathlon training is speed running workouts (my least fave? Long bike rides. Is there a comfy seat in all of bikedom? My ass and my experience tell me no). Since moving to Houston and getting through my hardest training ever, I've been really great at getting in a good interval workout a week.

Intervals workouts are basically doing shorter distances at a fast pace--over and over. I think the purpose is to get your leg speed up, get your body used to going fast, and to learn to control your pace. I love intervals. I LOVE intervals. For example, my ideal Valentines Day happened this year and included a tough interval workout--then pizza and Law & Order. Anyway, I am a pretty consistent runner once I have my pace (about 1:45 to 2:00 faster than my typical run pace for speedwork). We used to do intervals twice a week when I ran in high school, and I miss the track, the camaraderierie of a team, and running until I felt a little sick... no matter how long you go, distance running will never replicate the greatness of wanting to heave 75% of the way through ½ mile intervals. Oh, sweet nostalgia.

Recently I've been running intervals with my coworkers once a week at a nearby high school track. It's fun to go fast, be on a track, and shoot the breeze between runs. I like it because I usually get to make most of the workouts and pick the pace; I don't know if my friends defer to me because I'm actually in training for something, I seem knowledgeable about speedwork, or they just don't care-- it doesn't matter to me though. I'm pretty easy to please when I get my way. :-) At any rate, I bailed on the group this week so I could run intervals on my own. I was really busy this week since I'm going out of town today, had a fantasy baseball draft last night and a Rockets game the night before that AND I've been trying to get in some extra workouts during the week so I can be out of town with as few workout obligations as possible. In this mess of overscheduling I thought it would be a good idea to go to the Y and do an interval workout at yesterday's lunchtime. After all, it would take less time than the swim I often get in during my lunch break, and that track is 1/6 of a mile-- something different from the normal ¼ mile jobbie.

By the way, this is the worst idea ever. I live in Houston and it's March. Yesterday it was in the low 80s with 70% humidity when I ran. Even so, I had a great--albeit sweaty--workout, maintaining that sweet 7:20 goal pace throughout the various 1/2, 1/3, and 1/6 mile intervals. I also got to stop between intervals instead of walking 100m, which is what my friends usually like to do. I like to just stop... it's hard to hunch over and fight off puking when you're walking a cool 100. Besides, I didn't have time for stuff like that.

Before I knew it, I was finished and quite pleased with my workout. I went up to shower and when I finished, I realized I was still hot and flushed. REALLY flushed. I dressed, left for the office, and headed to the mall to get some lunch before heading upstairs back to work. At Subway I had a hot flash while waiting to pay. ½ hour later I had another one at my desk. I broke out in a sweat at my boss's cube shortly after that, and sweat all the way through my coolmax shirt while spinning after work (usually I just sweat through 1/2 of it). I was perspiring through my fantasy draft and when I got into bed last night. I woke up sweaty this morning. I was sweaty getting ready for work, going to work, sitting at work, running an errand, eating my breakfast. Finally, I completely cooled off about 11:00 AM today, 23 hours after I finished intervals. How foul is that? I am officially the grossest person alive.

On a positive note, I got some more sun during my run. Today a co-worker commented on how tan I am, and that made me pretty happy. These lunchtime workouts are the best because they break up my day, allow me to get 2 workouts in without having to get up before my normal 6:00 wake-up, and I get some sweet Texas sun. They also happen to be super high quality, an even better perk than the sun. Perhaps in the future I should just stick to the pool though...