Seriously... was I born in 1907?

Me [modeling a skirt in a store fitting room]: Do I look like a whore in this skirt?
(I need/want a new skirt to replace my ankle-length, sits-on-my-natural-waist skirt I got in college)
Craig: Mishele, you're in a knee length jean skirt.

Me: So no?

Craig: Sigh.

Put your hands where I can see them—hanging on the wrong side of the law

Around 1 AM this morning Craig and I got the last load of stuff from our old apartment. Included in the last load, of course, were the odds and ends that refused to be packed—our welcome mat, the odd picture, canvas grocery bags, and kitties. Our cats do not like stuff slowly disappearing from their home, but even more than that they loathe riding in the car. Within seconds of starting the engine I was listening to a chorus of meows and whimpers while surrounded by weird crap from our apartment. In all this commotion, I forgot to turn on my headlights while I was in the brightly lit parking garage; fortunately, Craig had my back and said something to me as I pulled out onto the street. I turned them on, cruised up to a red light, and turned right onto an empty San Felipe.

Seconds later there’s a cop car behind me with his lights on. What could I possibly have done wrong already? Did I seem drunk? Is it illegal to drive with two cats? Did I have a tail light out? My mind flashed to a time my mom got a ticket for driving without her lights on, which was silly--she’d turned out of a parking lot and 10 yards later was pulled over on a road so bright that headlights wouldn’t have made a difference. But I was only without my lights through a private driveway--isn’t that okay?

I pulled over (and in true kitty fashion, the cats meowed even louder at having stopped) and started freaking out. Before this I’d been pulled over 3 times: once for no reason by some meanie who made me start crying after he left, once for running a red light by a nice guy who let me go because I seemed really scared and he thought that was funny, and once for speeding by some dude just doing his job... I guess. I’m 1 for 3 with nice cops. The thing is, I don’t need a cop to be nice and let me off the hook for breaking the law; when I run red lights, I should be ticketed. When I speed, I guess I should be ticketed as well (I’m not a huge fan of speed limits, especially since I don’t drive very fast-- my truck is incapable of it). All I want from a cop-MisheleK interaction is some bleeping respect. I am not used to being treated like trash in my everyday life; for the most part folks are nice to me at the gas station and the bank, at work and at the gym. I’m a human. Others are humans. It all works out nicely. That is what I want from a police officer--basic human dignity. I realize I can’t have it because life is what it is, but a girl can dream.

So I pulled over and dude comes over to my open window. “What’d I do wrong?” I asked.
“Well, if you want to be really nit-picky, you didn’t come to a complete stop at that red light. You should have stopped all the way instead of just rolling through.”
I was slightly annoyed since I was as close to being stopped as you can be without completely stopping--and the road was a ghost town. Still, I brightened since the odds of a cop ticketing for something he refers to as “nit-picky” were in my favor.

There were howling cats in the background. “You moving?” he asks, flashing his torch through my cab.
“Yup.”
“Well, I pulled you over because you pulled out of the garage without your lights on--” (frick!) “--and there have been a series of car thefts in the area. Would you mind showing me your license and proof of insurance?”
Would I mind? Would I mind? Heck no I don’t mind! Thanks for asking! Whew! My shaky hands flew to get the documents. As I handed them over I asked him if I looked suspicious. He shrugged.

After checking my stuff he let me go and I called back to him that I’d be sure to stop at that corner from now on (especially since I’m never going back to it). I drove on to catch up with Craig, who’d waited for me, and thought of how crazy it was he asked if I would mind giving him proof I wasn’t stealing my own car.

Now I'm batting .500... and I’ll take it.

Du it, man: Webster Duathlon #3 Race Review

This was my first duathlon: a 2 mile run, 12 mile flat bike, and a 2 mile run. I won the entry back in February and have been looking forward to this race ever since. I've also been mentally preparing to get my butt handed to me; duathlons aren't as popular as tris, but the folks who do them are way faster. After racing I decided that duathlon folks are simply tougher-- even the sprint du's are not for the faint of heart.

Anyway, Craig came with me to this race. He's not a fan of idiotic tri cheering and I'm not a fan of someone coming along with me who doesn't race, so it was his first non-IM race. I thought he'd like it better because du's are supposed to be different-- most folks don't bring a cheering squad and the races are pretty small. We showed up about an hour before the start, got my packet, put my bike in transition, and just hung out. I thought there seemed to be more people than I'd expected, and there were; this was the biggest du of the series with 160 folks coming out. Crap! How was I supposed to place in my age group if more people showed up?!

After a .5 mile jog warmup and some stretching I headed to the line. Dude in charge told us about the course-- out-and-back run, two loop bike, and out-and-back run-- then just said "go" and started us off. It doesn’t get more low-key than that I guess!

Run 1: My goal was to run 8:30-8:45 miles. Starting out going fast is hard! Swimming is a way easier way to start a race. I was ready to start walking within 3 minutes, but naturally didn't. A few folks passed me on the way out, but for the most part it appeared I started in the right part of the pack. I also saw a few HRTCers (naturally ahead of me), so that was nice. At the turnaround I grabbed some water and went to pass some guy about my age. He refused to let me pass him, so I was forced to run with him the entire mile back to T1. Men-- such jerks! Anyway, I soon forgot him when I got to T1-- I've never been so happy to get on the bike!
Run 1 time: 16:41 (8:21 pace)
Run 1 pic: Do I look happy?

T1: My transitions were more about fashion: T1 was headband to bike helmet, and T2 would be bike helmet to hat. It's important to look your best at every opportunity. Anyway, I grabbed another water and walked to my bike. I was spent after the run and needed a rest. Still, I owned T1 because I switched my pedals (a nice lend from a friend also racing) to cages so I could wear my running shoes the whole time; I was in and out in 0:37. Woo!

The bike: two loops of fun. My goal was again 19 mph pace. On the way out we had a tailwind, and the way back was naturally a headwind. I passed a surprising number of people, so that was cool. I also got passed by a few, maybe about 5-- some who'd passed me on the run and would again pass me on the second run, but whose transitions were slow on account of the shoe issue. Suckers! Anyway, the bike was pretty, you know, bike-like. The only problem was my tummy was bothering me a lot so I couldn't eat or drink anything after about 15 minutes. My stomach has been going haywire recently (it's where I store my stress-- lots of room around there!), so I don't want to blame it on my new Accelerade nutrition plan. Maybe I had too much Accelerade before the race? Perhaps my race breakfast is incompatible with it? Anything is possible. The thing is I've never had Accelerade except for post-workout recovery/hydration until this race; more experimentation is definitely needed. That's about it for the bike except that I kept going back and forth with some stupid 14 year old kid. He was annoying the crap out of me because the first time I passed him he was drafting off his dad. Then 3 minutes later he and his dad completely blew by me-- what the crap? I caught the kid again on the second loop, and near the end he passed me... and then kept looking behind him to see where I was, swerving into the middle of the lane. I was annoyed and didn't want to get passed on the bike by some chump kid, so I surged on the street before T2 to beat him. A note to all you 14 year olds out there: don’t f*ck with me. (See? Edited for children!)
Bike pace: 18.6 mph Better than the week before, especially since I wasn't in cycling shoes/clips. Woo!
Bike pic: Nice pedals newbie!

T2: I took off my helmet and put on a hat. Nice, huh? :) Out in 0:27.

Run 2: My goal was +20 sec of run 1 pace, so 8:50-9:05 pace. Oof! Can I walk this? Of course the second run was worse than the first. I saw Lisa, cage pedal lender, at the half mile point and she told me they had cold towels at the turnaround. Booya! My goal at this point in the race was to come in under 1:15 (I came out of T2 at 56:xx) and pass three people. By the turnaround I'd caught two, but I ran a 9:14 mile. Crap! I had to get going to make my goal! After a towel and yet another water (don't judge-- it's hot here) I busted my hiney as much as I could to get in by 1:14:something, passing a third guy in the process. My last mile was 8:57, enough to get me in at 1:14:41, 1:14:38 watch time. Celebration!
Run 2 time: 18:11 (9:06 pace)
Run 2 pic: I'm about 400m from finishing, so I eeked out a solitary smile. Courageous I know.

Afterward there were breakfast tacos, beer, soda, and bananas-- a decent spread! I could only handle water a banana, and a diet Coke. Craig and I hung around with some club members, waiting for results. Normally, there's one girl in my age group at these races. She runs sub-7 minute miles both times (or close to it) and bikes at 20+ mph. Of course I had no chance of winning my age group while she was breathing, but 2nd of 2 was good enough for me-- that was my plan. Well, we were in for a huge surprise when results were posted: there were 6 girls in my age group. Dammit!

And at the top of that list: MisheleK. I won my age group and there were actually other girls in it! Sweet! I won a pint glass and a 700 tube, which I gave to Lisa (who came in second in her AG) since I ride 650s and her gracious pedals lend shaved some serious time.

I will definitely start doing dus-- I like tough stuff, and I really want to get better at these. The atmosphere is also a little more my style, so that's cool. I realize now that +20 seconds for the second run is very unrealistic; still, I want to get my run 1 time down a little faster. Maybe a longer warmup would help? I'll try that next time. And that nutrition issue I need to get ironed out before my last tri of the year: River Cities next weekend.

One other slightly related thing I've noticed in my past two races-- there are "real" triathletes at sprints, perhaps more real than ironmen. They're the folks who race, year in and year out, train every week, each season. It's not that one IM they've done that defines them because they're more than that after a decade of races and, perhaps more importantly, gallons of post-race beers. They don't get their panties in a twist over tri technology, and they don't buy a new bike every other year. They're there to race, to live the life. I want to be like that. But it's not going long that can do it-- it's local races, olys and sprints and HIMs, ties to a real racing community instead of a faceless racing giant running faraway events. The truth is that it's excruciating to go fast for any length of time-- I think it's harder than going steady for an IM. I want to do more sprints next year, even with Louisville looming, because they test your mettle in ways a day-long race simply cannot. They make you real. Besides, I know I've got the mental hardware to go long-- but can I go hard? I'm starting to wonder. And I'm going to find out.

I had three beers!: Jeff and Brede's Intergalactic Tri Race Review

This is two weeks old. My bad. Anyway, J&B's is a sprint run by my tri club: 300m pool swim, 12 mile flat (and fast?) bike, and a 3 mile run. Last year I volunteered--fun, but I wanted to get in there and give it a go this year. It's a sprint, so the race report should be slim...

The swim-- I seeded myself at around a 4:42. I was nervous because I've all but given up swimming this summer, especially because my last pool swim I caught two people, and I didn't want to be getting caught in this race since it sucketh. I needn't have worried though: apparently everyone lied on their swims because I did a very painful 4:59 (probably a 4:49 if you just include the swim and not climbing out and getting across the mat). No one caught me and I caught no one. Yesss!

And here is the best race pic ever. Oooh, and here's the second best ever. Who takes pictures of people while they're getting out of the pool??

Transition-- sucked because I thought I had to move my stuff to the other side of the rack to avoid a penalty. Everyone knows that you have to have your transition towel on the side of your bike touching the ground. But did you know that you have to have the down side of your bike on the same side as the rack number? Me neither! In fact, I don't think anyone really knew that til the head official said something before the race and after transition was closed. However, he also said it is the passing rider's responsibility to get out of the draft zone, which isn't true once you've overtaken someone; it's the slow guy's job to get behind the fast guy. I hope that official learns the freaking rules before he does another race.

The bike-- an out and back. As soon as I hopped on my bike it started raining. Awesome! It poured the entire time, and I had trouble getting any speed between getting pelted by raindrops and being wary of the puddles in the road. I got passed by my new friend Rick (who won his age group and destroyed me on the swim) and a girl in my age group. More on her later. Anyway, I averaged 18.3 mph, not great but not too bad I guess. I really wanted to get 19 mph, but maybe another time.

T2-- fine. I got socks on this time since the cuts on my feet from my last sockless sprint took about a month to heal-- ow!

The run-- really bleeping hurt. It was my slowest sprint run, which could have been because we ran on "grass" (read: swamp) for about a mile of the course. Not too awesome, especially since I was wearing my new and incredibly heavy shoes. Which were ruined by the end of the day. I ran 8:59 minute miles despite my faithful running speedwork every Tuesday. Crap!

Afterward I hung out with K and her tri man (who also won his age group) and hit the kegs as hard as I could. I got in three whole beers! Never mind it was over almost three hours and well before 11:00 am-- I'm a drinking champion! Eventually the weather also cleared up, but not til long after I finished. I felt bad for all the newbies, who started later in the swim on account of their slower seed times, because they were out in the worst of the weather. What kind of first timer experience is that? Anyway, I came in 4th of 27 in my age group; that girl in my age group that passed me on the bike (I tried in vain to reel her in on the run... no dice) was a really fast and accomplished triathlete, and I have no business racing with her. Still, she only came in 3rd-- could I be moving up the food chain?

Three other things about the post race party: K came up to congratulate me on my 3rd place finish. I thought this was suspect since two girls had passed me on the bike and I started 46th, so chances were good that someone was 25-29 ahead of me. Turns out she read the results wrong and I came in fourth, much like I did to my friend on the 4th of July. What goes around comes around!

I also met Jane at the race. She came up to introduce herself and said she read my blog. I danced around like a schoolgirl who needed to tinkle-- 'cause that's how I roll. Smooth, like butter.

Afterward I went to get my stuff from transition and head home. I noticed that everything I owned was not only already mildewing but smelled like actual crap. Turns out that of all the mud on the course, I managed to find the pile of dog poop to step in. Disgusting.

All in all a great race. And a longer report than intended... sorry!

I'm selling any children I have when they're 12

especially if they're girls. But, I'm willing to buy them back at 17... if there's a discount involved.

Last weekend I was the coordinator for the swim portion of a kids triathlon, and kids from 6 to 13 come out for the race. I have to admit I'm a little afraid of kids because they bite. And poop. And puke. And fall over. But I was at the race in the pool area last year, and no one seemed to make too much of a fuss-- I could handle these kids. My real race concern was starting the kids; it's hard to tell from my obnoxiously dry humor, but I have the weeniest pipsqueaky voice in town-- just think mouse with laryngitis. My voice is actually a main point of conflict with Craig because he can never hear me when I talk on the phone (his phone sucks!!) or in France (must not speak too loud or they'll know we're American and we don't know French!). We may end up divorced because he can't hear me, or he may end up smothered with a pillow because his lack of hearing me is pretty frustrating.

But anyway.

The race went well, and even my itty bitty voice could be heard by the 8 year olds. Everyone listened, (okay, most kids listened. Good enough for me!), and the volunteer mothers commented on how "nice girl" I seemed. Ha! I was just about to say that I liked kids when I came across the 12 year old girls wave.

These were not children before me. They were pre-adolescent witches. Gone were the bright-eyed questions like "Can we hit people?" from the 9 year old boys. Gone were the 7 year olds' tears because the water was too cold. And most sadly, gone were the 10 year olds' requests for someone to swim the course for them. 12 year old girls were different beasts. Let me just say it was a long six minutes before I set them off. I still shudder thinking about it.

That's all. Just wanted to share. I have a newfound respect for myself because I was on time (in Katy by 4:45 thankyouverymuch) and for parents for not eating their young at some point. If your club does one, you should definitely volunteer at a kids race. They're so small and cute-- so long as they're not crying or puking at you.

Just something to think about.

The not best 4th of July ever

Have you ever wanted to conjure your stress from an unknown force to a tangible thing, ball it up, eat it, then take a big de-stressing dump and triumphantly flush it down the toilet? What a coincidence! Me neither! But I think that's what happened this week. I woke up Tuesday feeling kind of icky, so I decided to call in. Little did I know I would actually be feeling awful by noon and yelling "Uncle" by 2, all the while whining and moaning to Craig. Poor guy. Anyway, I thought I felt better by Tuesday night, so I went to the Freedom 5k on the morning of the 4th.

I shouldn't have left the house, but I didn't see the warning signs. I was running this 5k, eating some kolaches, then meeting the girls for a 40 miler on Lucy. It was gonna be great. Instead, I ran 2.6 miles because the course was partially flooded (they're not kidding about that Texas rain, folks), unenthusiastically ate my kolaches, and went home to sleep the rest of the day away. I missed the parties and the little of the fireworks I couldn't see from my apartment (that is, if I'd watched them. I'm not crazy about fireworks). I do feel less stressed now though, even if I'm still rumbly in the tumbly. And the 2.6 miler? Perfect 8:00 miles (8:12, 7:54, 4:42 by the ol' watcheroo-- I think I could've brought home a full 5k at 8:00s, but we'll never know). I talked with another girl after the race and we decided the mile markers weren't in the right spot since I was pretty sure I took it out sub-8 and struggled in the second mile. Oh, here's a story about that girl, let's call her Judy: Judy said she was leaving before the awards ceremony, so when I saw she was 3rd in our age group, I ran over to tell her to stick around. Turns out that was the second page of results for ladies 25-29 and I'm a huge A-hole since the sheet clearly showed she was 10th. In my defense, however, places 1-7 were on a sheet very low on an adjacent column, so anyone coulda made the mistake. In fact, I KNEW there was a mistake since I was in first (really 8th), but I couldn't find that other sneaky sheet; in the future, I'll keep my mouth shut to keep my stinky foot out of it.

Anyway, boring 4th for me. Ran (also warmed up-- a good move and a lesson learned the hard way. Several times), nibbled, slept. No post-race blowing chunks, from running or beer pong. How's that for patriotic?

Would you trade it?

Greyhound and I had an interesting ride this Saturday, complete with 5 used tubes and CO2 cartridges and about 3 hours of delay. Despite the challenges of the day it still beat getting rained out of like the rest of Houston was on Sunday. And it beat working. And it beat getting poked in the arm with bits of glass and metal. It also beat getting eaten by a shark, chased by an angry clown, and stepping in dog poop with both shoes. At the end of the day you just have to ask yourself: would you trade it for a cool glass of iced tea and a book? Would you trade it for having to work all dang weekend? Would you trade it for 10 pounds of blubber on your frame and high cholesterol?

Chances are you probably wouldn't. You're gonna have crappy rides and miserable runs (especially in Houston), but in the end it's worth it. And if it's not, life's too short. Find something else to do. You feel me?



P.S. Saturday's melodrama was all but forgiven on Sunday. I got in my interval workout I accidentally napped through on Tuesday and destroyed that mofo in a nice cool sprinkle. After that I met the 'Hound and we tore up the waves for an hour of open water swimming in rain and, well, thunder. Don't worry--it sounded pretty distant. And we both made it out alive, always a nice perk.

My avatar

Many moons ago the Dread Pirate asked me about my avatar. Bloody shoes? What the heck is wrong with me? While that question may have too detailed an answer for interest, I can explain the nasty pic.

My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.

So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.

After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.

But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.

Um, best compliment ever

The coolest thing happened to me on Monday. I spent the past 5 days in Sarasota, FL visiting my aunt and spending time on the beaches that seem to do so much for my mental health. Since last week's Houston workouts got canned due to freakoutedness, business, and laziness, I brought along my running shoes and goggles (even I won't wear a swim cap in the ocean. I have some pride).

So Friday I swam in the Gulf. 11 minutes out, 8 minutes back, lots of sand and salt up my nose. The water was a little cloudy (did you know that's when sharks are more likely to attack?? Did you know I have an irrational fear of being eaten by a shark?!) and I'm a weenie, so I stayed pretty close to shore and just swam parallel to the beach. Despite the relatively small waves, I got destroyed.

Saturday Craig and I ran over the bridge and back. 5-6 miles. I think he was imagining ways to thow me over the edge into the shark-infested waters below.

Sunday found me at a different beach with Craig. Instead of swimming we just stood around and attempted to get our shoulders burnt (we succeeded). At one point I thought I saw a snorkel about 25 feet out from us... and then realized it was a dorsal fin. Holy shit. A dorsal fin. Oh god! There's another. And another! Three dorsal fins close enough to eat me in 4 seconds flat. I immediately spat out curse words and moved to get closer to the shore than the couple floating near us-- I had no qualms of throwing strangers to the sharks.

Then the fins turned 90 degrees and it was apparent they were dolphins. Well, at least I was only overreacting and not completely imagining things. How often do dolphins swim on your beach? Not too much in my world. Pretty cool!

But this post was not supposed to be about my vacay workouts-- it was prompted by my Monday swim. I decided a 30 minute jobbie would do the trick, and after chillin out max with my aunt, I popped on my goggles and got to work. 17 minutes out against some pretty serious (read: demoralizingly butt-kicking) waves, but I assured myself I'd catch some of the juice as a tailwind on the way back. I ended up only getting about as far as I'd gotten on my Friday swim, though I did start a little farther down the beach. At 17 minutes I retied my hair, rocketed out some of the salt water in my nose and turned back. 12 minutes later I was gratefully back to my towel.

But at 10 and a half minutes into the way back, I stopped and stood to find my aunt and our stuff on the beach. A tan old guy (on vacation? new local? coulda been either) sees me and hurriedly comes my way. "Hey, are you a competitive swimmer?" he asks.
Me: No [truth: yes? Do tris count? I figured they didn't since I didn't train in the ocean. Hey, I never said logic was a strong point.]
Old guy: Did you ever swim competitively?
Me: Yeah, I guess when I was younger. [truth: swam 10 years.]
Old guy: Well you looked amazing swimming out there. I watched you swim out against the wind and the waves and couldn't believe how strong you looked. Have you considered swimming competitively?
Me: Nah, I just really do this for recreation now. [truth: because tris don't count. And they're fun.]
Old guy: You look like you should be in the Olympics the way you swim out there! Very impressive!

And he rushed away. Wow. When's the last time someone went out of their way to compliment me? I can't even think of a time. I considered replying. "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure Olympian swimmers don't train in string bikinis" but it came to mind a second too late (and it's rude and I didn't want to alienate my only fan).

But the coolest thing to me was that I felt like a total jerk swimming out there before he came up to me. I was getting pummeled by the water and had difficulty maintaining my stroke. I imagined tanned hotties in next-to-nothing swimsuits sunning on the beach, laughing at my pathetic attempts to conquer a corner of the sea. But instead I got a sincerely nice comment from a stranger. AND I got to gross out some tourists by blowing my nose into the water.

I love vacation.

(By the way, you should think twice about your ocean swimwear if you're a chick. The first day I got lots of seaweed in my top. The second time I got chafed from the string holding up my swimsuit top. Isn't my life hard? Perhaps I should have stuck with a tri top.)

Life as an unironman

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. This summer? Sucking so far. Last week I got in every workout except a 1200 quickie swim before spinning (that day I went home to be lazy and Craig miraculously got me to go to spin class anyway. Without trying. He's gifted), but I got in an unscheduled 19 mile speedy-for-mishele ride on Saturday. Success, right? I was stoked to do my weekly training summary til I added it up to be 6:05. Six hours! What a waste!

The truth is I'm lost without a $500 daylong race ahead of me. I can't function. In fact, last week I blew off my double workout one day just so I could triple up the next, a la my ironman days. What the heck is wrong with me?

Part of it is stress. I don't have anything to pour all my freakish anxiety and petty annoyance into at the end of the day except for patent registration studying, which actually puts me to sleep every night. If I could get hold of the MPEP editor, we'd have a nice little chat about repeating things more than once. But studying is not so much the "sweat out your stress" kind of outlet to which I've been subscribing. On top of that, I have pseudo tri friends now. Yes, I'm the fat one, slow one, and sometimes ugly one but I can still marginally cling to the group of h-town tri hotties (and I can still claim "the smart one!"). That sounds nice, but my lone workouts feel more like lonely workouts these days. If I have pseudo friends, why don't I have pseudo training buddies? Do they not really like me? Do they think I'm too slow? Lazy? It's absurd that I even bother letting such nonsense cross my mind, let alone occupy my thoughts in the quiet of the day, but there it is: crazy girl creeping in. I thought I drowned that witch in middle school.

Instead of grabbing a cocktail and a Lifetime movie to deal with my [imagined] problems, I'm IMing it up again. I don't like people frowning in disapproval when I say I'm taking the summer easy and getting some sprints in.... for three years. (That actually happened, by the way. At Tejas. By more than one person. Can you believe that?) I don't want to feel left out of the loop when I'm way more knowledgeable than most of the local idiot talking heads when it comes to doing an ironman, especially Arizona. But mostly, I want that iron structure back. I want to feel like me again instead of this babbling insecure creepy girl waiting by her phone instead of brazenly ignoring it when it rings. I am not myself right now.

So I'm headed to Louisville in 2008. Admittedly it's my second choice, but I simply can't secure the bones to get up to Canada the first day of law school classes (small detail) or swing a community fund slot for IM Canada. So I'm heading back (almost) home on August 24th or 31st in 2008. Maybe my family will make the measly two hour drive to cheer me on. Er... maybe not. But you know what? I really don't mind either way. I don't do this for cheering family or dri fit hats or that tri community I so love and hate-- I train for me, all me. Hopefully I can get out of 1L with some kind of fitness that doesn't resemble that of Jabba the Hutt. I'll have a solid summer to toil away my evenings bruising my hiney and chafing my chest. And I can't wait.

But this summer? I really need to study. And give kitty kisses to Gary and Lily. And get back to being normal me that doesn't give a crap if I'm riding solo or in a group or what Summer said to Austin when she was drunk last week. Just making the decision has given me a little of the peace I'm used to. Back to basics and off the crazy pills... I hope.

Louisville in 08! Now who's with me?!?!

Uh, just kidding.

Wisconsin-bound

I will catch you when you fall. Well, provided you do it at the finish line. Oh! And assuming it’s my turn in line. I’m going to Ironman Wisconsin in 2007, but not as a competitor (ha! As if I’ve ever “competed” in an Ironman); I’m volunteering as a finish line catcher all day. From the easy, confident stride of the winner to the hobble of the bitter 12:01 AM unofficial finisher. There will be tears. Sweat. Blood, perhaps? Oh, and puke... maybe puke. And me.

You kids are gonna make me proud. And stinky. Try not to sweat on me.

Ready to run? Tejas sprint tri race review

Tejas Sprint
600y swim/10.5 mile bike/3 mile run
Sugarland, TX 6/10/07

Ah, my first real race of the season. My training has been light, but I was so stoked to get out there on Sunday morning that it really didn’t matter if I was about to get my booty kicked. Tejas was a benchmark race since it’s the only one besides Arizona that I also did last year. I wanted to spank 2006 Mishele until the run, when I’d probably let her win; I’m still afraid to run. I’m a weenie.

Anyway, I woke up at 5 on Sunday morning and felt okay. Got to the race site, fiddled around with crap in my car, and rode down to transition which was about .5 miles from the parking lot. On the way there I ran into Lisa and Robin, local tri hotties who are also pretty speedy. We hung around while we set up transition, got our chips, etc. Good times.

Finally the race began. The swim was supposed to be a 600 yard open water swim in a decidedly nasty neighborhood lake. This annoyed me because last year was on the same course and was an 800 meter swim, but oh well-- at least I could beat my swim split from the year before. I was in the 6th wave and started in the second row of bodies. You know, it amazes me how nice all the girls are... til the gun goes off. Let the water wrestling begin! Despite the rat race I got out in front pretty early and swam about as straight as humanly possible. I felt pretty good about my line and my effort and fully expected to exit the water around 9:00, so you can imagine my disappointment when I didn't hit land til almost 12:00. What the crap? I don't do 2:00/100yd anything, not even warmdowns. I didn't fret too long though because I saw a good swimmer maybe 30 seconds in front of me in transition, so it wasn't just me being pokey.

T1. Good work. In and out.

The bike. Ah, I was so looking forward to riding. The course was an ultra-crowded out-and-back 2 loop course on new roads, a last minute change back to the crappy 2006 bike course. I stuck above 20 mph except when I was digging around for food or taking u-turns, which I royally suck at. I felt good. Funny thing though: I packed two frozen water bottles in my car that morning, one of water and one of Gatorade-- one for the bike and one for afterward. I left them both in the car, leaving me with just my aerodrink until the run. Oops! It was just as well though because I hate ingesting on the bike. Anyway, just as I started losing my focus tri hottie Lisa came breezing past me-- she's a real force to be reckoned with on the bike. The second she was out of my draft zone I chased her to T2, determined to get her on the run since I have been a stronger runner than her in the past.

T2. Super fast, despite dropping my running shoe (2 seconds) and running the wrong way out transition (4 seconds). Always room for improvement I suppose. I also tried something new dismounting: I left one shoe on the bike. Perhaps the first time trying this should not have been during the race.

The run. My once strong leg is now my greatest fear, in small part because I rolled my ankle on Tuesday and strained that tendon on the outside of your lower leg. It hurts, but it wasn't bothering me when I started running. Lisa was within spitting distance of me for about 50 yds, then she took off and I, well, didn't. Last year I negative split each mile by 30 seconds (8:30, 8:00, 7:30-- not too shabby). This year I clung to 8:30-8:40 pace, and barely. Still, my run was strong and consistent, which I guess is all I can ask right now. A funny thing happened on the run. At mile 1 there is a water station and a photographer, and it's right by transition and the finish so there are tons of folks around cheering. I saw the photographer and planned to smile, but then realized I needed water to take the gel in my hand I was supposed to down in T2. So I keep glaring, grab a water, down the gel-- and trip over the guy in front of me b/c I was drinking. All of the sudden Darlene (remember her from Arizona?) is there beside me cheering. Surprised at tripping and hearing my name, I got water up my nose, which promptly got rocketed out my nostrils. So there I am, being called (out?) by name near lots of people while water and snot run down my face. It was awesome. Anyway, the rest of the run was a pretty 3 miles (2.8-2.9 miles according to the Garmin freaks) until the much anticipated finish. Once I caught my breath I immediately removed my shoes and found my feet a painful chafe/blister party. Good to know now that I can't run without socks even for 3 measley miles. Yeck. Post-race I hung out for awhile (Craig did too), then lifted and got in an open water swim with Greyhound. I was pretty pooped by the time my head hit the pillow.

Here's the comparison from this year to last:

Year	2006	2007
Overall time	1:17:46	1:11:36
Swim	13:10	13:10
Swim pace	1:30/100y	1:32/100y
T1	1:30	1:38
Bike	37:30	32:15
Bike pace	16.8 mph	19.5 mph
T2	1:26	0:46
Run	24:12	25:10
Run pace	8:03	8:23
Age group place	10/29	8/35
Overall place	317/613	237/629

(I recalculated the bike and swim splits to reflect the proper distances since they aren't right on the results. In case you're one of those stalker types that checks that sort of thing.)

Improvement I'd say, especially comparing my bike split, T2, and place in the grand rank and file. Now I just need to smile for the cameras, get some run speed, and club a few girls in my age group so I place one day.

Two more posts coming up this week!

A minute isn’t so long

Right?

Yesterday I popped in the pool for 1000 yd time trial. Naturally, this “time trial” was a loose label since I wasn’t trying to go fast. No way. I was just trying to get through it. See, I haven’t swum 1000 yards since my last race. In Arizona. Sure, I accompanied the ‘hound on a swim at Twin Lakes a few weeks back but I managed to find a tri friend to float along with for part of the swim (she was on a date with her tri hottie boyfriend--how gross is that? Seriously.) (okay fine, it’s cute. Maybe I want nauseatingly active dates. Or maybe I want NetFlix and a PBR... I can never decide.)

But yesterday I got my jiggly butt in the pool if only to remind myself I still knew how to swim. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t ugly: I was about 50 seconds slower than normal 1000 time and about 2 minutes slower than a real 1000 TT with TT effort. I was surprised I was even within a minute of my normal self since I felt like a 13 year old boy in the water--gawky, awkward, and other adjectives that use a “w” and therefore look widiculous. I guess that’s no indication of actual progress, huh?

So I’m back. Sure, my first Olympic got cancelled (good thing too since I had neither swum the 1500m distance nor run the 10k distance before since that last race). Sure, my calves now shake when I walk, which is slightly disgusting. But I’m riding this weekend with my enthusiastic if slightly frightening tri buddy. I’m lifting tonight. And Tuesday? I went to track to have my ass handed to me so bad that I still felt sick from the effort 2 hours later. Yeah, it’s that bad.

But don’t worry, I’m not getting carried away. 10-15 hours a week for the rest of the summer TOPS. No more long swims. No long runs (truth is I’m still afraid to run and break myself again. I’m clumsy that way). No 50 mile ultramarathons this fall and no ironmans (ironmen?) this summer. Just me, trying to stay in shape and de-jiggle my calves. And maybe get some buff guns to show off in sleeveless getups. And maybe get that TT back below 14 minutes where it belongs.

So no, I guess minutes aren't so long. But neither is the tri season. Time to hop back in the game.

Well what the heck am I supposed to do now?

Ironman? Finished. Law school? Decided. Jewel Quest? Beaten.

And uh... Harry Potter? As finished as I can be.

I'm mad and I'm gonna rant. Brace yourselves. I am completely addicted to Harry Potter. He's like library crack! I can't get enough; I even dream about him almost every night after I've been reading about him. He's like a real person to me! Unfortunately, I underestimated him and started reading the books in March "to relax." Now I have to wait three whole months to read the seventh book. (Don't ask me the book names. I get them very confused and just call them by their numbers.)

I could have put the first, second, or third ones down, but I didn't. Once I hit the fourth one I knew I was screwed. Back then I thought, "Harry Potter has to die in the seventh book. How could a kid with such an amazing story live a normal life after Voldemort?" A reasonable argument til I got to the end of the sixth book. Then? His death was a thing of beauty, an inevitable end to a wondrous tale. As the story continued through its current endpoint, though, his death would be melodramatic, hackeneyed, absurd. I'm annoyed because I'd bet $17 he's going to die in a particular way, which I won't share at the moment. I'm also annoyed because I don't think J.K. Rowling can write. Hello? Must we use "stride" as a verb on every single page? What's wrong with marching, stomping, walking, stepping, tramping, treading, or even trudging? Not only does she overuse it, she incorrectly uses it as well. And can't we think of synonyms for "brightly" and "flatly"? I have one thing to say to you, honey: Shift +F7. For crying out loud!

And the characters? I have to admit I'm getting tired of them. Hermoine's a tattle-tale, Ron's a whiny baby (despite getting plenty of attention in book 5 I might add), Ginny's a little on the easy side, and Harry's temper is pretty tiresome. Dude, someone needs to beat the crap outta him in hopes he'll get some patience and maturity knocked into him.

And don't get me started on the editing. You'd think that publishing one book a year would give you sufficient time to freakin proofread what was written. Rowling is obviously not to blame for this of course, but Scholastic is. I rarely notice typos in anything I read-- maybe one typo per 1000 pages would be a nice non-scientific estimate. Rowling's books have about 3-5 per book that I notice; surely there are more. If someone who's somewhat oblivious to details (well, for an engineer at least) notices that many errors, your book pretty much sucks. Yeah, I'm talking to you Scholastic.

Perhaps you're indignant that I'm criticizing such an acclaimed writer. Maybe you're smugly skimming my words, rejoicing at every written inadequacy I've provided you. Well Mr. Meanie-head, I'm writing a blog I thought no one was reading, not publishing the highest-rated/fastest-selling/greatest book ever.

Despite the things I so loathe about the books, I still love Harry Potter. Maybe I got past the first book because I'd seen the movie, which was surprisingly well done. Maybe I love a world of magic like every kid does. But I'm pretty sure that, bad adjectives and annoying characters aside, it's one of the best stories I've ever read. Details woven from one book to the next with characters that no human should ever be able to imagine-- it's breathtaking. It's art. It's addictive. I know I have to allow for some melodrama, some annoying brats, and some poor use of language because they're children's books (though "damn" and "hell" do appear in book 6-- I was mortified of course). And whether I want to or not, I'm waiting anxiously for July 21st. Actually, I'm waiting til my library has a copy of the book because I think there's nothing more idiotic than purchasing books that are popular and therefore available from the library. Be honest-- for the most part you're never reading the crap you buy more than once and you're cluttering up your house.

Anyway...

If Harry dies, I will be so pissed. In fact, I'll be forced to mentally rewrite the ending in my ultimate quest for peace. I don't want Harry to be Jesus or the young priest from The Exorcist, nor do I want Voldemort to continue on like Satan in The Omen. I want closure, happiness; frankly, I think I've earned these things as a reader for getting through the 3000+ pages to get to this point.

Now off to find something else to do with my time... :(

Hero worship

I’m going to be honest with you (big shock there). I don’t put much stock in starry-eyed adoration of good/professional athletes. Come on! They’re doing a job! They’re living the dream of the rest of us, something a lotta folks would give a lot to do. Sure, professional athletes are total badasses, but I regard them the same way I do people I work with who are competent: with basic respect. (My one exception: the OF who stole my heart with one of his characteristic saves--Jim Edmonds. Maybe he’s old and maybe he’s overpaid but he is a big hunka man. Delicious.)

I think it’s a lot easier to be amazed by fellow age groupers, fast or not. It’s not easy pulling a good training schedule out of your ass with work, home, and family to juggle--we all know that. But still, somewhere in the back of my mind I still think “So? I can do that too.” Again, there’s one exception: George.

I went to college with George. We drank a lotta beers together, so it goes without saying that we had a lot of good times. After college I picked up triathlon and George’s blog. He picked up ironness well before me, and he amazed me with his ability, determination, and desire to improve. George became my hero. On top of being awesome himself, George saved me the money I would have had to spend on a coach while I was learning how to train, how to eat, how to strive for awesome… thanks dude.

Here’s why I’m sharing all of this with you today:
http://georgeschweitzer.blogspot.com/2007/04/boston-marathon-race-report.html He PRed in Boston last week with a 2 freakin 50. 2:50.17. for 26.2 miles. He nearly even-split a non-even-splittable course. He dug through 20,000+ runners to whoop some serious ass. Unbelievable!

He also did Chicago last fall, PRing (at the time) there. THEN, like 2 weeks later he ran the NYC marathon sick, puking his guts out before the race and only drinking water for 26.2 miles. Only water. In a marathon. Maybe I underestimate my real- and internet-world companions, but I don’t think there’s a single person I know who could do that. Not one.

Except, of course, my hero. Congrats George!

The Grand Canyon is big.

This was a surprise to me. Sure, it's "Grand" and all, but honestly-- how big could it be? Well, there's a reason there're no good pictures of the Grand Canyon. It just doesn't fit on film.

But you can't blame a girl for trying; here's a shot down Bright Angel Canyon:


After the awards ceremony Monday Craig and I drove 4 hours north to stay one night at the Grand Canyon. We left sunshine and 80 degree temps to go through some snow showers and cool breezes in the park. Crazy!

Anyway, we checked in our hotel, took the trail around the rim for about 2 hours, and picked up some dinner before crashing mightily into bed. Unfortunately, I'm the biggest altitude baby there is and at 7000 ft I was sucking wind and pulling out the inhaler what felt like every 5 minutes. It sucked a little.

Tuesday morning Craig and I got up at 4:30 to take a Sunrise Tour. We'd brought sweatshirts for the cold weather, but we weren't prepared for the chill before the sun could warm us up. We were chilly willy:


But despite the tour guide's bad jokes and the cold wind (omg could the wind just freakin stop already?), it was well worth it to finally see sunrise. Again, pictures don't do a bit of justice to the experience, but they're a nice little symbol of what we saw.


Finally, once the sun came up we could de-hood. Not that it made us any more photogenic:


Once the tour was over we got a hearty breakfast in the lodge, then headed down the Bright Angel trail. As soon as I saw the Canyon I wanted to hike all the way down, but there was no way Craig or my protesting quads would've let me. We settled for a trip 1300 ft down and 1.5 miles along the trail to the first trail stop, a prestigious... toilet. Yup, that's the first (and the second) landmark on the trail. As ridiculous of a stopping point as it was, it was a serious climb out. Here we are about 20 minutes from climbing our way back out:


Bet you didn't expect to be bombarded with Craig + Mishele = loooove pictures, did you? If you're nauseous I'm sorry... but you'll get over it. Anyway, we did the three mile trail in just over an hour and a half... not too bad post-ironman, especially with all the stops we had to make for the mule tours on our trip back up (not that we were complaining-- the rest was welcomed!)

After the hike we showered and high-tailed it back to Phoenix to catch our (late) flight back to Houston. All in all a good trip, no?

Oh no! I forgot to mention something crappy!

So on Friday, K and I were walking back to the car with my bike after registering. There were 2 volunteers in an Explorer on the road beside us, and the girl volunteer hopped out of the passenger side of the car with great flourish to move a cone 4 inches to the left. She lazily left her door open, and the idiot boy volunteer started driving forward.

That damn door hit my bike. Luckily, it didn’t hit my fingers or anything important like a deraileur... it just hit my handlebars and ripped my tape. The girl apologized profusely, but the tape seemed to be staying in place so I was very nice about it. My only experience with ripped handlebar tape was a positive one (it’s still ripped on that side and still in place), so I moved on without dwelling on it too long.

Fast forward to T1. I’d looked for electrical tape in 2 stores on Saturday but couldn’t find any, so I left my handlebar as it was since the tension seemed to be keeping it in place. That is, until I actually got my bike onto the road. I spent the entire ride trying to keep the unravelling tape out of my way. Good thing I was in aero so much or I might’ve gone crazy!

If I could take back that moment of saying, “Oh, that’s okay” to that volunteer I would. Of course, I’d replace that comment with “You know, it’d be a great gift to society if you promised not to breed. There are enough ditzy bimbos in the world without your spawn contributing to the problem.” But alas, the time has passed.

Just wanted to share. As for the other 2500 volunteers: they were pretty great. If only they could keep the dumb ones out of motorized vehicles...

Update: My LBS fixed up my handlebar for a measly $5 labor-- they didn't even charge me for the tape! Must've been the world rewarding me for not being my rude self. Sweet! All is well with the world. :)

Arizona race report: Run and finish

The run

Ah, on my feet again. I was going to finish.

It's funny how you discover your real goals out on the course: I wanted a 65- min swim, a 7 hour bike, and 11 minute miles on the run. Had you asked me the night before I wouldn't have had those answers, but here I was, running 11 minute miles for the first three miles.

Then that idea died. I could have grasped at 11:00 pace a little longer, but I felt comfortable enough running 11:30 miles that I thought I could sustain it the whole marathon. I kept waiting for my feet to hurt but they didn't really. It just felt good to pass mile marker after mile marker til suddenly I was on the next loop.

Running through transition was extra special this year. It seemed like everyone knew my name and was so excited to see me-- I saw K's family, Houston Racing folks, and thought I spied some internet people as well. I recognize it's totally lame, but having strangers read my name from my bib and cheer me on so enthusiastically-- well, it's amazing. I guess I'm a sucker for attention.

That's about all I can say for the 5+ hour run. I didn't walk except the aid stations and that hill on mile 3 of the loop and I didn't make any friends-- no Haley from Atlanta, Troy from Maryland (though I did see him on the course, but my bike wasn't so slow he could completely lap me), no Diane from Chicago. Just Mishele. I stuck to the nutrition plan that worked so well for me last year, a 4 aid station cycle: Gatorade, water + gel, Gatorade, water + banana. In Wisconsin I ate grapes a lot, but they were irritating my already swollen throat this time. (As much as I love Tempe the place makes me sick. Sad.) Over time my legs slowed, and I didn't have enough to get them going. My heartrate stayed around 138-140, remarkable only because running 11-12 min miles on a treadmill and not after riding 112 miles puts my heart rate around 148. Hmm. Maybe I just need an 8 hour warmup?

Before I knew it I was crossing Mill bridge to the finish. I picked it up to look strong at the end, but when I turned the corner I saw a terrible sight: the clock. 13:42! I thought I was going to cry. To be so close to last year's time and see it slip by in 3 minutes... ugh. It made me sick. But I kept running, trying to look positive and not cry. As I got closer to the finish line I realized I couldn't really see right-- and the clock said 13:33! If you watched me finish looking like I'd won $20, it was because I realized I wasn't in fact slower than 2006. I was elated!

My run time was 16:30 slower than last year to put me at 5:09 even, but so what? I didn't reinjure my foot and PRed overall. You don't get that every day. I'm amazed how my non-tri friends are so unimpressed with my race. Dude, it's hard to do well two years in a row. So what if I only dropped 6 minutes?

Oh yes... about Darlene. She destroyed me on the run. Again, she went out waaaay too fast, but I still never caught her. I blame the whole "not running for two months" thing for not beating her. Maybe some other time.

One thing I'm a little annoyed about: they took the finishers videos off the web so they could sell the damn things for $20. That's total bull. Does NA Sports and everyone else associated with ironman have to take every single opportunity to shake down their race participants? It's not bad enough that people are willing to drop $470-$1000 for a chance to do an m-dot race? Could I please see my stupid finishers video just once for freaking free? It'd be one thing if I'd seen ANY finish, but they've all been swept up before I had the chance (or they didn't tape the finish line). I am a little sick of this. In fact, I'm so sick of it that my next ironman won't be an m-dot. They don't respect me as a consumer and I don't respect them as an entity. I came to this realization about a week after I realized that an m-dot is like that cingular blob-man thing-- just a logo. One silly "M" doesn't define me and it doesn't define what I think triathlon should stand for. So, no m-dot tat for me. I have something much better in mind... once I hit 10 IMs, that is. I'm not swearing off NA Sports because they do put on safe races and I want to see every course. I just think smaller races cut out that crap I find so reprehensible, and I need a crap break.

Anyway, I was happy about finishing before I started ranting. I got a finishers shirt (personally, I'm very opposed to this 2-shirt per race trend. One's bad enough!), medal, and was shipped off to get food. I picked up some pizza and a diet coke and looked everywhere for Craig. No sign of him. I ran around looking for him and getting progressively pissed for about 20 minutes, and when I saw him I let him have it, even though he'd been looking for me too... oops. We tried to stick around for K to finish, but my neck was really hurting and I was worried about the state of my sunburn/chafed neck/chest/crotch/feet/etc. We headed home after a quick trip to Walgreens.

Postwar conditions
Best race ever. No chest chafing. No inner thigh chafing. Light sunburn on my arms, but not too bad. My neck wasn't pretty, and neither was my back where I thought I'd gotten sufficiently rubbed down with sunscreen. Apparently I wasn't rubbed down like I thought (btw, this pic is from Tuesday-- 2 days of healing and I still look deformed):

OUCH! Small but painful. :(

I also got one teensy blister on my foot. I'll take a very painful and ugly neck in exchange for healthy feet and boobs. Both pairs deserve a break.

Monday I woke up quite sore but I could walk like a normal person. I swear my post-IM walk has gotten better after each one I've done, an appreciated perk. Wednesday I felt like I was 90% since it only hurt going up stairs. I should be ready to go by Thursday.

Monday morning Craig and I hit the awards brunch, where I ran into Darlene again. She hadn't made the podium, but was quick to point out that 5th in the W19-24 had gone a 12:47. It took all I had to keep my "Good thing she wasn't here last year then" comment to myself, but I did. :) We sat around for awhile, but then Craig and I left early because it was dull (and we had better things to do... like the Grand Canyon!) We waited in the picture line but gave up on that too after 40 minutes and no progress. Honestly, what do people do with their proofs that takes so long? I don't get it. I was done in Wisconsin in like 1 minute. If you're heading to an IM this year, do us all a favor and don't dawdle with your pics.

So that's all. Thank you to all of you who sent emails, texts, calls, blog comments, etc; the support really meant a lot. You folks are wonderful! A super special thanks to Wendy and Nytro (I think I saw you...) for heading out to the course and lending me some cheers-- I needed them!

First timer tips: It's okay to experiment with nutrition out there, especially if you're feeling poopy. Try the broth and the cola. Don't go out too hard. Take off any reflective tape from your front before the finish line so you don't eff up your finishers picture. Find a friend; they can save your race out there. As for the finish line, don't pass people in the last 50 yards or so or your pictures will be messed up... it's a little late to be "racing" at this point. Don't forget to smile triumphantly! The finish is a lifetime top badass moment, so enjoy it.
Next stop will be GC, AZ. Get ready!

Arizona race report: Bike and T2

The bike

That ol' wind that's whippin' out there
It's whistlin' your tune.
That wind blew pyramids to Egypt
And footprints to the moon
And that ol' star that you've been wishin' on
It's shinin' mighty bright
And it's the fire inside your heart
That's gonna lead you to the light

Now I know that slaves built the pyramids and space travel is a product of a governmental dick measuring contest. And the lyrics? Very lame. But this was the song that eased into my head every now and again on the bike, and I allowed it to stay because it was so very appropriate (it's "How you ever gonna know" by Garth Brooks. Country and uplifting or something if that's your kind of thing.)

I felt grrrreat in the water, coming out of the water, and hopping on the bike. The wind was light and so was my heart-- but T1 had sent my heartrate above 150, which I don't like to do ever on the bike...or the swim. All the changing and running must've gotten me overexcited. Anyway, for the first out on the bike I focused on calming down so I didn't eff up the race. I couldn't get my HR below 140 (I usually bike around 120 and drift up to 140 over 4-6 hours) so I just went with it. Instead, I focused on eating. My nutrition plan: 3 bottles every 2 aid stations, an uncrustable every out, a Snickers Marathon Womens bar every back, plus some snacking on bananas and gels whenever I got the urge. Since only 2 bars and 2 sandwiches fit in my Bento box I'd have to stop at special needs to get more food.

Lap 1 on the bike was pretty smooth, though I was sad to see Darlene zip by me at mile 6. I figured she was going out too hard and quickly forgot about her. The wind hadn't picked up yet (here is the wind report-- I didn't search for it but I'll certainly refer to it!), so my first "out" was 1:09, almost perfect 16 mph pace. I really really wanted to hit 16 mph for my bike split because my rides are usually 16.3 mph pace, and 16.1 mph when breaks are included. It's not fast to a lot of you, but 16 was my only real race goal, and marked improvement from the 14.2 and 15.1 mph from my first two IMs. That said, I refused to blow my load for the bike split because walking the marathon was simply unacceptable. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

First out: 1:09, first back: 1:10 (again, wind wasn't bad and I lost my chain... bugger!) for a loop of 2:19. I knew I could never keep that pace even though it felt effortless because I always fade in an IM, so early on I let go of my sweet sixteen dreams. This was a mistake, and possibly one of only three regrets I have from the race.

When I started loop 2 I thought I was shot from a canon; I was holding 21+ mph with a heart rate in the mid 130s, so I took it easy, got out of aero to stretch, and got some calories down my gullet. Even with my relaxed effort I got to the halfway point in 58 mins! I did some math and realized I'd need about 12 mph pace to even split my first two loops-- not a good sign when you're about to head back into the wind. Instead of lamenting or getting frustrated, I just got in aero like a good girl and watched my cadence. I stopped at special needs-- my only trip off the bike except in loop 1 to put my chain back on-- because my stomach hurt, got my uncrustable from my bag and ate it while I went to the restroom (I like to be as gross as possible). Just like last year, it was an overly full bladder that was causing me tummy trouble. I finished the second loop in 2:23, perfect pacing with my 3 minute break at special needs. Woo! This was fun!

Lap 3 seemed easier than lap 2 in terms of wind, but that meant I wasn't going as fast on the way out-- or so I thought. I got to the turnaround in 57 minutes this time, but the way back was brutal. I was holding 13 mph and passing people! However, about 7 miles out my stomach hurt too badly to get into aero. It only felt like a little gas, but there was no way to deal with it without slowing down or risking an "accident". I just tolerated it and stayed as low as I could to get home, and I would have hit 2:20 if the loop had ended where the other two did but I had to go a little farther to get back to T2. I ended up with a 7:06:58 bike split, 18:08 faster than last year in some serious winds. I was pleased, but had I known I'd end up riding so consistently I'd have tried a leetle bit harder to reach my goal. Lesson learned.

I really had fun riding, which was so strange. I kept a lookout for HRTC Mitch to pass me since his goal time was sub 14 hours, but I never saw him. I also kept watch for Brent Buckner but also missed him. I did see K (or rather she saw me) and she still looked downright ecstatic to be on the course. It's neat to see people so lively at an ironman; I know that I always look like I want to kill someone, but really I save my face for useful facial expressions, like looking at people like they're dumb or pretending to hide my annoyance. Smiling? Well, I say stick to what you're good at, and my smile doesn't exactly light up a room.

Anyway, another huge difference besides enjoying myself in this bike leg than any other I've done: I got in around 3000 calories in the saddle! I got 3 uncrustables, 2 marathon bars, 2 full bananas, 5 gels, clif blocks, and 5-6 bottles of gatorade (and 3 bottles of water, averaging 2 bottles every 3 aid stations. Oops!) That's over 1000 calories more than I normally do, and I think it was the difference in this race. I felt good the entire time, and my heart rate trend is about as boring as it'll ever be-- 142 for most of the trip, though it did spike at the end of the loops where the wind was bad and drop when the wind was at my back again. Wind or no wind, my heart rate usually drifts up no matter what pace I ride-- nutrition was the only difference. Does that make biological sense? Not that I care, but it's nice to make sense sometimes.

One thing about the wind. I really hate wind. Give me hills, give me naysayers, give me bumpy roads-- anything tangible over an invisible nemesis. I worried about the wind all last year and didn't have too much to deal with; this year I worried again and it saved me because I was prepared for it. I took advantage of the tailwind to eat and relax, and really focused on staying in aero and not getting down about the conditions. This racer full of grace and composure-- she's not me, but I like having her on my team. I wonder if I can get stuck like this... :)

First timer bike tips: I'm going to assume you're not an idiot, so you're not going to go out too hard. Now, don't go out too hard. Don't forget to drink. If you pee on your bike, try to be mindful of the wind and the folks behind you. Don't pass someone, then slow down to grab a drink while you're still in each others' draft zones. Don't be in that drafting pack (Grrr why aren't more officials on the bike course to nip this in the bud? They only seem to catch loners who drift too close to another loner and I think that sucks). Stay alert. Don't be stupid-- get in aero in a headwind no matter how slow you're going. Oh, and don't pass on the right.

T2
I got off my bike, crotch and butt surprisingly intact, hobbled to my transition bag and then to the tent to get on some run shorts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I'm not running an ironman in spandex for all the world to see my butt jiggle. I have some pride here. Anyway, as I'm changing my shorts and shoes I notice a bubbly person near me-- Darlene. Seems like that racing off at mile 6 either found her sucking wind on the back half of the course or she got a flat. I like the first explanation. We exchanged pleasantries, and afterward I asked my assistant to look at the back of my neck; it had been hurting really badly and I was afraid it was burnt AND chafed like last year. She said it actually looked "really bad" and blistered, so she got the head of the changing tent to look at it. Who got a med staffer to look at it. Who got the head of the medical tent to look at it. This process wasted 60-90 seconds, so I was getting mildly annoyed. Finally, the head med guy looked at it and said, "aww, did someone get a wetsuit hickey?" like he was asking me if I'd made doodie in my pants. I told him that's what I'd been trying to tell them, and he let me loose on the run course. Finally! I'm home!

Now, normally I'm in tears in T2. I just hate the bike and am so emotional by the time I get off that I can't help it. This time? Nowhere near tears. It was strange, but I liked it. I hate crying and having to run right afterward.

Even with the needless delay I got outta T2 in 6:46, 2:18 faster than last year when my chafed neck also had me dicking around in pain. Now off to the races...

First timer T2 tips: Hang in there and try not to cry. That's all I got.

Arizona race report: Race mornin', the swim, T1

Sunday. I woke at 4:45, 15 minutes before my alarm. While I actually opened my eyes because I heard a door slam in a neighboring room, it was a rumbly in my tumbly that got me out of bed. "Oh good!" I thought. "I'm getting this out of the way early!"

Then I went again.

And then again.

By 5:15 I was nauseous and not feeling too keen on the breakfast I hadn't touched. "Maybe you're nervous" offered Craig.

Eh, maybe. But I didn't feel nervous. I felt calm and relaxed-- I just wanted to vomit. Small detail. After groaning and lying down for 10 minutes, Craig and I headed down to the race. The minute we were out of the car I realized I needed the nearest port-o-let or else. I got to one right near the parking lot/buffet line, which turned out to be lucky; the lines for the potties closer to transition were very long, and everyone knows race porta-potties reek of poo (which also happens to make me nauseous). After that 4th trip to the 'room I felt much better, and in no time Craig and I parted ways so I could enter the athletes only area.

A bustling transition on race morning.

I got body marked, got a new wristband (I'd almost twisted mine off the night before), prepped my bike, dropped off my special needs bags, and ran into K. She hooked me up with some Imodium after I told her my 4-poop story (K's not too into poop stories, but that doesn't usually stop me. No, I have no idea how we're friends in light of this grave detail). She said that she felt like she could cry at any minute she was so excited, and I was surprised that I felt the same way. I was... happy. Excited. Ew. I thought maybe I was going soft til I realized I could be PMSing. "Come on Mishele, strap on your pair and let's go."

Sunrise on the swim course.

Into the wetsuit and toward the water. I realized on the way there that I'd forgotten to wipe the excess defogging gloss out of my goggles, so I decided to lick it out. Crazy as it sounds, a substance called Catcrap will induce instant dry heaving. It tastes like, well, crap. I'm an idiot, and I'm lucky nothing came up when I was hugging the trash can and wishing for a stick of gum.

The pros started at 6:45, and my girls and I finally got into the water. Here's another first timer swim tip: Don't be a water pansy-- get in early if yours is a wade start. Why? Because if you wait til 6:45 or 6:50 to get in, everyone actually swims to the start line instead of calmly drifting. It's a real buzz-kill compared to the leisurely floating people do at 6:35.

The swim

I started at the very front about 2/3 the way from the inside. I'm fast enough that I don't get passed much, and the course is wide enough that there's not a ton of pushing. Call me crazy, but I prefer my swim to be challenging because of waves, clarity of the water, and my speed, not the people around me. That's why I love IM AZ. Anyway, in no time we were off. I was surprised about 5 minutes into the swim that I was passing so many folks since I wasn't really going too fast, but I guess
that some people start out fast, get in my way, and must be put back in their places. Within 7 minutes it was easy to avoid running into most folks so long as you were careful in the murky water; oftentimes I wouldn't know I was near someone til a foot was perilously close to my face. 20 mins in I slid more toward the inside of the course to avoid some guy who kept running into me for no apparent reason-- and suddenly was RIGHT on the inside of the course. Heavy traffic. I stayed calm, reasoning that no one gave enough of a fuck about my race to intentionally run into me-- it was just really hard to see in this water. I was very proud of myself as I usually get really frustrated at having my butt grabbed and my face elbowed... I was growing up to be a nice, conscientious ironman! :)

Suddenly, someone pulled me from behind and held my head under water for long enough that I panicked-- maybe 5-8 seconds. Then I got really freaking pissed, grabbed the hands holding me down, and went to punch the face of the ass who was trying to drown me. It was a... girl?

I didn't swing for three reasons: 1) I didn't want to get DQed, 2) I didn't want to waste the energy, and 3) I didn't want my butt kicked by some little pansy; I haven't ever been in a real fight, and this girl at least thought she was IM material. Not promising fighting odds, though I had at least 20 pounds on her.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.
"I'm sorry but you just knocked my goggles off my face! We should be helping each other, not hurting!" she yelled back. (Ironic, yes? And she didn't sound sorry at all)
"I'm sorry I didn't see you-- it wasn't intentional" I replied. What a freaking witch.
"Well PAY ATTENTION" she yells back and starts swimming again.

Excuse me?? I can't even begin to describe how I regretted not giving her a bloody nose. I don't like hitting people, but I would really have enjoyed grabbing her ankle and getting her face close enough so that my fist could catch it. Here we are in an ironman swim, not some lovey dovey Irongirl event. Everyone knows the swim can get brutal; I personally am thankful every time I leave the water unbloodied and unbroken. You should expect to get roughed up a little, especially if you're swimming in the most direct line on the swim course. Moreover, I can't hurt people even when I try! I tried punching someone last year in Wisconsin and completely missed. The idea that I could muster the coordination and motivation to smoothly rip some chick's goggles off in an attempt to come in 407th instead of 408th out of the water is laughable. Besides, my hands hadn't touched anything sharp or hard like goggle lenses; I think she caught the wrong person. I was horrified that anyone would act that way in a stupid race, and the mean part of me hopes she didn't finish and her race was a painful one.

I am always anti-man in these races because male triathletes don't realize the charmed lives they lead. And there are no women (<19% of the field in AZ) in the longer races. And they won't let you pass them once they realize you're a girl. And they're smellier. But honestly? Put me in 2500 pushy, pompous dudes before leaving me in the water with one vindictive wench. They're freaking psycho.

Anyway, on the way home I again had some trouble sighting like last year, but it wasn't quite as bad. I rolled outta the water at 1:04:37 and an average heart rate of 147. I beat last year by 1:33... Not too shabby!

First timer swim tips: Get in early. Get the heck out of the way if you're not a strong swimmer. Don't go all chainsaw massacre on someone who hits you; if you stay calm you can usually tell if it's a malicious hit. Dudes, swallow your pride and don't be a pain to pass if some chick is faster than you. If you are getting harassed, try kicking extra to let the person behind you know you're there and they need to find a different route; no one actually wants to swim over
you. Don't go out too hard; you have all day to kick some booty. If it's crowded or the water's murky, use sighting to avoid people, not actually look for landmarks to swim straight-- you probably will anyway.

T1

No trouble changing, but my moleskin had bunched on the swim to chafe my neck all the way across. Ouchie. This year I got the sunscreen guys to get my back, shoulders, low back, legs, and neck so that I could avoid the burning and sun poisoning I got last year. Unfortunately for me, when I said "shoulders" I meant "shoulders to elbows" and got a little
pink on my arms. After some trouble clipping in (embarrassing in front of the crowd!) I started le bike. I got out of transition in 5:50, 38 seconds ahead of last year. Woo!

Check out that cleavage! Who says wearing 2.5 sports bras isn't sexy?

First timer tips: You should really try to minimize your clothes changing, even in an ironman. I always see women who get nekked after the swim and I wonder why someone so fast outta the water would waste T1 time putting on sticky clothes. Also, trust your assistant and let them know how they can best help you. After all, you have a freakin helper to wipe your feet and tie your shoes and shit. Very cool-- but don't forget to thank 'em.

Psst... I have a swim start video Craig took, but don't know how to post it. Any help?