Three Things Thursday

1. Tuesday was my biggest viewership day ever. Even bigger than when Pacers retweeted my monkey post. If I had known doing an Olympic tri would catapult me to blogger stardom, I would have done one sooner! (No, I wouldn’t have.)

2. The downside of pushing yourself as hard as you possibly can in a triathlon? Your suppressed immune system allows all that lake bacteria to climb into your brain and give you a wicked head cold. I’ve been stuck in lethargy limbo since Monday, but my boss is on vacation, so I keep going into work. I think I’m going to go home today though. You win this round, cold.

3. In what can only be described as a shocking development, I kind of liked the swim on Sunday, and now I’m feeling motivated to improve it. Granted this was a small race, but I was 14th on the swim in my AG, but 4th on the bike and 3rd on the run. Yeah, talk about imbalance. As I told the CAR blog mafia, I can finally see now how people might get addicted to this sport… It only took 4 tris! Ha! Tris!

I Am Steelman

Well folks, you were right. Thanks in no small part to your encouragement and the awesome support of most of my favorite training partners,  I did it! And I managed to exceed every goal I set for myself while having fun in the process. In short, Sunday was an amazing day.

I awoke Sunday morning to echos of two years ago. At 4:30, the rain was coming down hard as I worked to attach the bikes to the car rack without getting too cold or wet in the pitch-black process. But as we were driving to the race, a miracle happened: It stopped raining. As I was lifting the bikes back off the car, I made a comment to Katie (my sister) about how at least it had stopped raining, unlike two years ago.

“Oh, that was the worst race ever,” the woman in the car next to us chimed in. Lady, you don’t know the half of it.

We met up with Amy and the Tall Girl and made our way down to the transition area, where we set up and waited for the confirmation of wetsuit legality. I had my wetsuit dance all ready to go, and I was thrilled to break it and the suit out once they made the announcement. Seriously, I was probably the first person to don my suit. There’s nothing like a good wetsuit strut to get you in the mood to race.

Anyway, I digress.

The race started with a swim warm up, which I decided to take advantage of for the first time ever. After the DC Tri, where I jumped in and immediately started swimming then spent the first 200 meters hyperventilating, I realized that letting my body acclimate to the water was a good idea. Usually I just stand there and let myself get more and more worked up and scared before starting the race, a practice that has probably caused some adverse physiological reactions that only added to the miserableness of swimming. So I got in, I put my face in, I swam around, and all was good.

I climbed back out, talked to Lauren and Amy for a while, then Katie and I made our way down to our wave. We were in the second wave, along with every other man and woman under 30 and the Athenas and Clydesdales. Holy superwave, Batman! We moved into the water and out to the first buoy, and then we were off. I settled right in, breathing on both sides almost right away. It was a bit crowded, but I passed the few people who were slower than me and settled right in next to the buoys. I think I’ve mentioned before that the benefit of swimming the way I do is that it’s empty enough that I can take a pretty direct line to the buoys, and I did that on Sunday. At one point I was so close to a turn buoy that I punched it twice. I’m not sure that’s textbook, but it made me laugh.

As I swam along, it felt like I was taking forever. I told myself I’d finish in about 40 minutes and that was ok. I fought the urge to look at my watch, and instead I thought mostly of Dash and how she’d be so proud of me for finishing. Which is true, but kind of a weird thing to think of. I also thought about my dad, and how glad he would be to see me come out of the water instead of dropped off a boat. But this is the first time that I didn’t swear off triathlon completely while swimming, and I attribute that to the fact that I felt confident in my (slow) swimming ability for the first time ever, after two long years of work.

I finally did come out of the water, and was pleasantly surprised to look down at my watch and see 34:11! And did I mention that I’ve figured out that my swim headaches come from shoulder and neck tension? So I didn’t even have to deal with crushing dizzy spells or anything. I came out of the water and started running!

Back in transition I struggled with my wetsuit a bit, but I pulled it off and headed out just as Katie came in to grab her bike. My goal for the bike was to lay it all out there. In the interest of full disclosure, I don’t do many brick workouts. My theory is that if I’m strong enough, in each individual discipline, I’ll be just fine. And it seems to be working for my current fitness/ability level. Maybe someday I’ll get serious and train properly. But anyway, my goal was to just leave it out on the bike course in the spirit of that tired old triathlon mantra, “It IS all about the bike.”

And lay it out there I did. The DC Tri has a much bigger field, so I’m used to coming out of the swim and picking off people like crazy. I was a little thrown to not see anyone from my age group on the bike. Then I thought I might be kind of close to the front anyway, so I just went after it. On a fairly hilly course, I managed to average 18.9 mph for 26.9 miles. I was stoked. I came back into transition after tracking down one of my competitors, waved to my dad, and racked my bike. My goal was to keep T2 down to a minute: I ran out and tapped my watch at 1:05. Success!

I started running and immediately began passing folks. My goal was 50 minutes, which was kind of a reach. I haven’t run 6 miles all in a row in two months. Hee. So I got out there and desperately wanted to walk, but I started bargaining with myself. Self, I said, you have a shot at a podium spot if you run fast enough, but ONLY if you run under 50 minutes. And let’s be honest, you probably feel so miserable because you’re running so fast!

I hit the first mile in 7:50 and suddenly believed the angel on my shoulder. On the way out, I had passed Beth and the Tall Girl, and I was looking forward to seeing Amy and my sister on our two-loop course. The run kept getting harder, but I just kept passing people left and right. I caught up with and passed two girls in my AG, at which point I realized I probably wouldn’t podium (curse you, swimming!) but I planned to get as close as humanly possible.

It had warmed up, and I started dumping water on my head. I also realized that I should have eaten some more food on the run, because I felt like I was bonking. I started sipping Gatorade to get me through it. At long last, I saw mile 6 and then the turn to the gravel path to the finish. Two men ahead of me were racing each other pretty hard, and I just watched them go and wondered how in the world they had so much left. I was absolutely spent.

I crossed the finish line with a 49:40(!!!) for the run, 2:53:21 total and finally got the coveted Steelman finisher towel that had been denied to me two years ago. I hobbled over to Katie, Beth, and the Tall Girl to wait for Amy and my Katie to finish. There I slowly regained my strength and posed for the greatest picture of me ever taken.

In the car on the way back to DC, I told Wes that this was one of my most proud races ever. While my mangled syntax illustrates just how tired I was, the sentiment is valid. I was out and out terrified of swimming when I started. I worried that I would never be able to do an Olympic distance triathlon. I questioned why I continued to swim when it only resulted in frustration and anxiety. A lot of people gave me permission to quit–permission that was sought and much appreciated–but I insisted that swimming was character building. And after Sunday I’m convinced I was right. I spent a lot of my life doing only what came easily to me, but the reward is so much sweeter when you put in some effort, when you finally do what you thought you never could.

Thanks, guys.

On Seeking Revenge

In my racing life, I’ve had few truly terrible experiences. I would say one is the time I played a rugby game in PA, ate nothing all day except for 5 Balance Bars, then came home and tried to run the first-ever 9/11 Memorial 5k. The result? A super-hot race in which I spent much of the time trying not to puke while my rugby captain ran alongside me and never let on how much she was probably judging me and my terrible fitness (32 minutes for a 5k is fine if you’re not trying to play D-1 women’s rugby). Upon arriving home, it was all I could do to get to the bathroom before the bars finally forced themselves out the other end. Bad day.

Look at those cheeks.

The other one is, of course, my one and only DNF, which happened not long after I started my blog. You guys may know the story, and if you don’t, you can read it alllllll back at that link.

But this weekend, I’m going for revenge on the Steelman course. Double the revenge, in fact, because this time I’m making my debut in the Oly distance. A lot has changed in two years. Last time I showed up on my beloved commuter hybrid, walking with the aid of a cane, and planning to wear a bathing suit throughout the whole thing (hard core).

Now I have a beloved road bike, a super sweet tri kit, some triathlons under my belt,  and the CAR blog mafia on my side. I also have a wetsuit that I’m praying nonstop to be allowed to wear because, well, some things haven’t changed, and I’m going to have to fight the mind fuck that is being pulled out of this lake once before.

You want them on your side.

Can I do it? To quote the bard, I think I can.

No, I’m pretty sure I can. And I’m very much looking forward to making up for that ugly mark on my racing history.

As far as that first race, well, I’ve never been back to do another one, but I did go on to blow the marathon times of my captain out of the water, though she’s a lovely woman, and I would never say I was exacting revenge on her. But there is something deeply gratifying about running way faster than an Eagle.

What’s Next?

So after seven weeks of racing, it was really nice to sleep in on Sunday morning and do an easy 6 miles by myself. I’m still living high off my triathlon last week and vicariously through Katie’s exciting half ironman this weekend. Maybe these triathlons aren’t so bad after all.

With that in mind, I’ve been eying up some Olympic-distance races with the hope that I can get my swim headaches under control before then. Today I’m planning on doing some longish swimming with earplugs to see how that works.

But the pics from Peasantman suggest something else that should maybe be worrying me. It looks like my bizarre swim-shimmy has moved over to my running as well. What can I say? My hips don’t lie. Also nice hair. (Also also, that’s gun time on the clock!)

2009 in Review: Injuries, Injuries, Injuries

Fuck you, 2009

2009 was not a good year for me. I managed to hurt the same leg three separate times, which ensured that I spent much of the year stuck on the couch. I didn’t PR once. I barely worked out. Every time I started to get back into it, I hurt myself again.

I finally succumbed to piriformis syndrome in March 2009, after running with it for about a year and a half. (In 2008 I PRed every distance, so it wasn’t all for naught.) During the National Marathon, my left hip just wasn’t firing at all. I ended up running 1:51:18 on a course that I’d run 1:48:02 on the year before, despite the fact that I’d just run a sub-47-minute 10k in December 2008 and hadn’t slacked off at all. So I knew something was wrong.

When you’re piriformis is a f-ed up as mine was, you’re pretty much down for the count. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t bike, even though that’s how I got to work; I couldn’t use the elliptical or the rowing machine. I could swim, but I didn’t have easy or free access to a pool. So I lifted my upper body and blew that up and worked with a therapist and a chiropractor to get the strength and range of motion back into my leg.

I got back in the swing, did a race in late April (26-something 5k), started training again and … flipped off my bike in July. I missed my triathlon. After about two weeks of not walking and another two months of not running, I was kind of ready to run again. By then I missed my marathon, but after going to watch it, I got the inspiration to start training again. And so I did.

And so you read. I was doing pretty good–until two days after the Tucson Half when my left calf decided it wanted to ensure that I wouldn’t finish the year in any kind of running shape. It’s strained, and 14 days after it happened, I’m still limping. I’m going to see Dr. Paul tomorrow and hope he can finally mash the toxins out.

What does this mean for the Carlsbad Half at the end of January? Who knows. I’m just keeping my fingers crossed and my leg foam-rolled and hoping that 2010 is going to be a running year (and a gym year) again.

More Like Marshmallowman: My First DNF

On Sunday, against everyone’s advice, I got in the water to start my first tri. I then proceeded to swim about 150-200 yards before freaking the fuck out and waving down a kayaker to be pulled from the water. And just in case anyone needed proof that my breakdown was anything but mental, I managed to pull myself into the rescue boat without the use of a ladder. (“Oh, wow,” said one of the rescuers.) Yeah, exhaustion, right.

A lot of stuff went through my head Sunday morning. See, my plan was to do the race because it would be fun. I would take it easy and get through, and the swim would be the easy part, because everything else would hurt my leg. But then it started raining. Katie and I trudged to the transition area at 5:45 am in a cold, continuous downpour. Suddenly the idea of walking a 5k seemed anything but fun, and the warnings about bike accidents began to get to me. Will I ride my bike seriously again? Of course. But have I ridden my bike seriously since the accident? No–as of a few days ago, I couldn’t even get on it.

So as I struggled through the water after the start of my wave and began to hyperventilate, I couldn’t help but remind myself that I had missed six swim workouts due to my injury, that I had never swum 800 yards and had always struggled with swimming, that I would probably fall off my bike and break my leg this time (and if I didn’t, Katie would and it would be my fault for bringing her here), and that if I didn’t break my leg biking, I probably would running, and oh my God I’m drowning. Then the next wave of swimmers came through, destroying all of my confidence, and I thought about getting out of the water. And when I did, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. So I got out and got dropped off on the dock in the care of two EMTs. I apologized to them for wasting their time and explained that I shouldn’t have started the race because I was hurt. They assured me I wasn’t wasting their time (liars), but said they were wondering why I was limping.

I think that if swimming had been the hard part of the tri, as it was always supposed to be, I might have made it. If it had been dry and I wasn’t so scared of falling off my bike, I might have made it. But all I had to look forward to after struggling through a muddy, murky swim–and I’m someone who doesn’t like to put her face in the shower–was more pain. My boss’ boss called it my better judgement. She said she was glad to hear that it kicked in before I hurt myself. I’ll take it, and I’ll try not to be too embarrassed that it didn’t kick in at a more appropriate time.

But three good things about DNFing:

One: Katie finished and set a 5k PR. She came in fourth in the Athena group (a category designed to give tall athletes eating disorders) and was the fastest Bolton. I’ve asked her to write a real race report.

Two: I found my dad’s cousin! He was resting on the kayak I went to for help and either miraculously recognized me or thought he’d take a chance and ask the other shlub on the kayak if we were related. And we were. Rick swam from kayak to kayak and went on to finish the race just fine. We all managed to catch up with him and his wife after the awards ceremony, so now we’ll have something to talk about at the next reunion.

Three and perhaps best of all: I ran into an old co-worker, one of the first people to turn me onto running. I hadn’t seen Ellen in about 8 years, but she’s the first person who brought me to a road race so that I could run along with her four-year-old (now 13) son while she and her husband did a 5-mile race. The whole time her son and I ran the one-mile fun run, he talked on and on about what a great runner his dad was. I thought it was an adorable example of how much a little boy loved his father, but no, it was the truth. Ellen’s husband, Budd Coates, came in to win the race. I later found out that he is director of employee health at Rodale–publishers of Runner’s World–and an all-around running bad ass. (Here’s where I would ask Budd for a job if it didn’t entail moving back home.) If you’ve ever gotten a running log with your RW subscription, chances are Budd wrote it. A quick Google search shows that he’s a four-time Olympic Trials qualifier and that he came in 16th once. That’s pretty good.

Anyway, they were there on Sunday, cheering on their daughter, and I never would have seen them if I hadn’t been waiting for Katie to finish. One of the guys on my bike rack joked that I was a little too committed to getting my $85 worth out of the race, but I can say that seeing Ellen again made it all worth it, and I mean that in the most earnest way possible.* In the long list of things I loved about Laneco, she was at the top.

*Oh, and so did seeing a flash of impressed-ness cross Budd’s face when I said I ran a 3:45 at Marine Corps (“Not bad,” he said. I guess he didn’t expect that from the girl wrapped in an emergency blanket complaining that she got scared.)

You Can’t Go Home Again

Except when you can, which I did today. Does that make any sense? It was supposed to be a jokey way to say that I’ve arrived in the great Q-city, home of the Steelman Triathlon and other great things such as the Q-mart and my family.

My painful Igor hitch has disappeared in favor of a moderate, considerably less painful hunchback-y swagger. I’m leaning toward doing the tri and walking the 5k because why not?

Next Steps

Holy crap, you guys. 10 page views today. That’s a new record. I’d like to thank my mom, God, and those railroad tracks for throwing me off my bike and giving me something else to do besides train.

Since I can’t bear the thought of sitting around and letting my triathlon and Boston dreams slip away, I’ve devoted myself to the search for my Next Race. What to do? First I went looking for another triathlon that I could do in September or November. (Am I kicking myself now for not signing up for the Nation’s Tri when I had the chance? You betcha.) But the timing of Chicago–which I’m still doing as the airfare and hotel are prepaid–takes out most of the remaining available triathlons. Beach 2 Battleship, which takes place in November in Wilmington, NC, one of my favorite vacation destinations sold out its Half Ironman race, so it looks like it will be a while before I get another tri. (Get it, tri?)

So then I started thinking about other possible marathons. And there, at least, my options are plentiful. If Chicago is a bust, I could do Richmond, Philadelphia, or Tucson. Wes’s sister moved to Tucson last year, and we’ll probably go out there and (both?) do the half in December anyway, but if someone’s fitness is peaking late because of a nasty bike spill, well, maybe she’ll just go for the full. There’s no way to know.

Anyway, headed to Quakertown tomorrow for Steelman weekend. Wish Katie luck. Look for a race report Sunday or Monday.

Oh yeah, as promised

I can break into song and dance at any moment.

Weekend Update

Well, this weekend I officially graduated to limping. I don’t use the crutches around the house, which I think is probably a bad idea, because I’m not so much walking as hopping around on my left foot. That can’t be good for my poor muscles. I look more like Igor than some sort of lean, mean, running machine. (Yes, I am very much aware of the fact that what was once my greatest triathlon strength may now be the thing that keeps me from doing it at all. If I’m still limping at the end of this week, then it will have to be a no go. I’ll sacrifice myself to some extent, but I’m not a total idiot.) I’m going to try to get in to see my chiropractor on Wednesday to see if competing is an option. The tri offers awards for brutal, gut-wrenching performances, so I think I might just qualify…

Anyway, the good news, besides the walking, is that I got in some exercise this weekend too. I met my friend for some aqua jogging yesterday at the new Washington and Lee pool. Lovely space, lots of lanes. I’m not the greatest aqua jogger in the world, I think my arms got a better workout than my legs did, but it’s a start.

Afterward, we swam some laps, and I had a run in with some crazy girl who literally hopped into my half of the lane and started swimming. The guy in the other half of the lane “conveniently” didn’t see her, so I had to stand there for a while wondering wtf was going on, and then I had to ask him to please start swimming in a circle. And keep my fingers crossed that Crazy would follow our lead. The guy was like “I only have on lap left,” which I thought meant “cool out,” but he did start swimming in a circle. Then they both got out, but so did I.

Then today the clouds parted long enough for me to get my 400-yard swim in. The bad news: my leg doesn’t totally kick. It’s slowing down my swimming, and it makes breathing on the left even harder than it usually is. The good news: the slowed pace means that I can keep my breath more easily. I did a lot less resting between laps, which resulted in a time of 11:25 for the workout. I did the equivalent of slowing down but forgoing walk breaks today in the pool, which I think is a good idea when it comes to swimming what with the whole drowning and all.

More bad news: I missed Dog Days because of today’s rain and general leg-tiredness. But, good news: I’m going to take a bath now, and I’ll be able to finish and return my library book before incurring a fine. It’s all in how you look at it, people.

Countown to Tri

According to the Steelman* website, there are only 17 days until my first triathlon! The thing about distance events is that, to people who don’t exercise, you’ll garner as much respect doing a sprint tri as doing a marathon despite the fact that they have a totally different workload.

For example, if you’re me doing the sprint distance, your life (well ok, my life) doesn’t really have to change at all. You just throw some swimming in when you used to be running. And in DC in the summer–even this summer, when it’s been absolutely delightful weather-wise–swimming is a refreshing treat** whereas running is an exhausting, humidity-filled slog.  So cheers to the tri.

Of course, there is the Ironman* distance, which is a marathon on top of a buttload of swimming and biking. I’m guessing that when I do one of those, my life will probably change.

What’s the point of all this? Quantity blog posts, not quality.

*Why you gotta be so sexist, triathlons?

**Swimming is not only fun. It often results in negative side effects that range from snorting pool water to headaches to drowning. I’m not buying all this bullshit from former swimmers “Oh, running is so hard!” Yeah, running is kind of hard, but when you get tired you walk. When I get tired swimming (which the human body was NOT designed to do) I drown.