Snoop Blogg

This wasn't the plan

2012-02-09T18:38:00.000-10:00

2012 isn't starting off the way I'd hoped, I've already made big, big plans for the year - including some hefty cycling in Wisconsin, improving my running, having mad fun with the LUNA Chix and racing faster than ever. I had my schedule written out, days off on the work vacation calendar and had just officially started training when I got a call that my Mom was in the hospital.

Mom's been in the hospital before and for the first four days or so, I was actually chatting with her on the phone routinely and not really all that concerned. She'd been sick and had developed pneumonia. Then I got a call from a friend of hers that she was in ICU and my worry alarm started ringing. Within a couple of days, she'd deteriorated so much that I flew out to Arizona to be with her. I naively thought I'd swoop in, shower her with love and happiness, fix her, whisk her home as good as new and be on my merry way. So much so that I only packed four days' worth of clothes.

That was 16 days ago, and I'm still in Arizona with no end in sight.

Mom developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) in the hospital. By the time I got there, her lungs had "stiffened" up, her lungs were full of infection, she was sedated and paralyzed with three different drugs and all of her doctors and nurses expected her to die. One doctor told me she should be dead already (how's that for bedside manner?) and another gave her a "thirty percent" chance to live. I remember looking at him and wondering how he picked that number. (And muttered silently that he obviously doesn't know my Mom.)

It's been absolutely gut wrenching. When I first laid eyes on her, I actually thought she was dead. She was so lifeless and pale and looked so very tiny and frail. I've never seen so many IV's and tubes and machines on one person. I spent that first night in her house, alone, sobbing and unable to sleep. So I got up and cleaned her place from top to bottom. And called Moose, who flew out the very next day.

After two weeks in ICU at her local, rural hospital, she was transferred to a long-term acute care (LTAC) hospital in the Phoenix area, where she's been ever since. (BTW, I'm becoming an expert not only in oxygen levels, but all the vital signs, a variety of pharmaceuticals and all acronyms.)

I'm here, too - in the Phoenix area. I was staying with my wonderful in-laws, but they're 200 miles (RT) away and it was too much to handle on a daily basis, so I'm now at a hotel within walking distance of her hospital.

She's been "awake" now for 5 days, although she's unable to even sit up in bed on her own. She's on a feeding tube, still. With the trache tube in, she can't talk - which is frustrating to all involved. She has good days and bad days. The past two have been "bad" - she's in pain and tired, so I'm hoping tomorrow is "good." Relatively speaking, of course. On good days, she laughs and jokes despite all of her obvious pain and lack of communication skills, and is overall more active (as she can be).

It's all very day-to-day, and I honestly have no idea how long her recovery will take, or how long I can be by her side. At some point, our finances will demand that I return to Chicago. It totally sucks and it eats away at me in the wee hours of the night.

I tried training the first week, but I quickly came to the realization it's too much. I thought it would be a great distraction, but I stupidly had no idea what this would be like. I essentially have two emotions, and seem to waver between the two; anger/rage and or completely overwhelmed. Always accompanied by a leaden sense of tiredness and fatigue like I've never felt. It's like an elephant is sitting on me all.the.time.

My Mom means the world to me. I know she's one strong, determined woman and has already overcome so much. I hope she continues to improve and I dream of the day I can open the front door to her house and usher a happy, healthy Mom back home. I just don't know when that will be.

Here I am, 2012

2012-01-17T12:10:00.001-10:00

Happy New Year!

I can’t believe it’s been over a month since I last posted – but it always seems like life picks up a bit (OK, like a G6) between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, doesn’t it?

I survived the holidays quite nicely, have topped out at my high point for off-season weight (I'm now on downward slope, finally!), have managed to pull myself together and I’m on track for a killer 2012.

I’m where I need to be mentally, and that’s the key. Everything else is falling into place.

I know you’re all dying to know what happened with the Paleo diet, too. So, uhm, there’s, ah, that.

I’m not a good caveman (woman?). I like to wear dri-fit clothes. I enjoy the comfort of my 10-12mm running shoes, I love hot showers and shampoo and indoor plumbing. I think fire is pretty, but prefer my microwave. Electricity rocks my world. And while I enjoy a grass-fed cow steak as much as the next girl, I also like oatmeal and cheese. And beer. Don’t forget beer.

I gave Paleo a good run of it for about three weeks. I initially lost almost seven pounds, but it all came back immediately when I started eating wheat again, so it wasn’t true weight loss. By the middle of my second week, the thought of eating any meat at all made me want to hurl. Seriously – I couldn’t even touch it, I was so over it. This from the girl who will trample grandmas and shove little kids at outdoor BBQ's to get the last best cheeseburger. (OK, I'd never truly do that, only think it. WHAT? Like you weren't thinking the exact same thing?!)

I struggled a little with the feelings of failure, but that was soothed by my BFF Stella Artois. If I can’t enjoy my organic bison burger on a whole wheat bun with a nice hefeweizen, then what’s the point?!

No, but really. I watched a documentary claiming that going full vegan is the only true way to be healthy. I know myself well enough to know that ain’t happening. Snort.

I watched one that advocates buying a fancy juicer and drinking a crapton of fruits and veggies for a month. Only juice! Nothing else. Nope, can’t do it. I can barely make a smoothie without a major kitchen catastrophe, a juicer might send me over the top.

I watched a movie that says you can eat fast food, as long as you don’t eat the bun (really???). I read a book that says to eliminate all whole grains, but dairy is OK. Another one said dairy causes arthritis, but whole grains reduce cholesterol and heart disease.

My head was spinning! Enough with the nonsense, already!

So my decision is to eat as healthy as possible, eliminate as much processed (if it comes in box) foods as I’m realistically capable of doing, watch my calories – and enjoy my beer occasionally, which I'd like to point out comes in a bottle.

Several of the benefits of my Great Paleo Experiment included discovering that my steamer is my friend, I like bok choy and I *really* like berries.

So, there ya have it. Paleo = Faileo, but happy = success.

And now I've turned my attention to things that really matter, like how to make my dream for this season become a reality, cheerfully and proudly representing the Chicago LUNA Chix Triathlon team and having fun with Moose in the form of new crazy cycling challenges!

2011-12-13T04:01:00.000-10:00

I'm 100% sold on Paleo, or my version** of it. It's been over a week, and so far, it's been pretty easy, despite my near-meltdown last week.

This weekend was Moose's birthday, so we went out to dinner with friends. I relaxed my standards, and had beer. I'd searched online before we went for "safeish" beers - and some people recommended trying lagers over ales, so I ordered a winter lager.

(Yes, I know beer isn't Paleo. I get that. But I figured a lower gluten count might be better in general. I was wrong. Anyway, I'm still trying to figure this all out and not be so intense that if I completely screw up, I give up and quit. It's about finding my own way, and I don't know what that is yet.)

I munched on a salad for dinner, and then Moose got a swimming-pool size of ice cream for his dessert, compliments o' the restaurant, so I ate maybe 1/2 a cup of that (full fat vanilla ice cream).

Not sure if it was the beer, the ice cream or both, but by the time we left the restaurant I was already sick to my stomach and my hands and feet were puffy. That's really all the confirmation I needed that I either have a wheat intolerance, a lactose intolerance, or both.

I'm happily a wheat and dairy free girl now.

Other benefits I've noticed in just eight days:

The best/coolest one is my constant fatigue and flu-like achiness is gone. I have so much energy it's ridiculous! I love it. I've felt like crap for over a year now, and to feel "normal" again is huge. I mean, I'm doing things like going through our cabinets and pulling items to donate, cleaning, and playing with the Yahoos instead of burying myself on the couch.I don't need a nap a day, either.
Similar to that, my chronic sinus infection is completely gone. I don't wake up with a sore throat and congestion. Booya. It's been years, people. Years.
I can't explain this one, but my constant anxiety and edginess is gone, too. Huh. It's a mystery, but it's pretty awesome. This even after drinking my morning cup of coffee. I have energy, but I'm not a paranoid freak. Hello, world.
I actually want to move and work out again. Woo hoo! Considering my goals for next year, this is, ah, good.
I've lost 5.8 pounds so far. Always a bonus, but I feel so phenomenal that even if I wasn't losing weight, I'd continue. That's how good I feel.
My coat is shiny and clean. I just threw this out there to see if you're still reading. ;-)

**My version includes sweet potatoes, brown rice and the occassional white potato for energy. I am training for endurance races, after all.

Welcome to the 2012 LUNA Chix team, Dawn

2011-12-11T03:08:00.000-10:00

I was super excited to learn this past week I've been chosen for the 2012 Chicago LUNA Chix Triathlon team.

I feel forever indebted to the 2007 team, who taught me so much. Not only did I meet women who continue to inspire, influence and push me five years later, they played a key role in my first Ironman finish. I rode with them on their midweek rides from (back then) Waterfall Glen. They patiently taught me how to ride in a crowd, with vehicular traffic, how to change a flat tire, how to transition, how to put a wetsuit on - pretty much how to be a triathlete.

But it's the way they did it that made a lasting impression.

Triathlon can be incredibly intimidating. There's so much to know - and you don't know what you don't know. Everyone has to start somewhere, and sometimes in this sport - veterans have a swagger and a way about them that's, well, intimidating. LUNA Chix taught me so much without making me feel foolish or dumb or inferior or slow or not good enough. And on a side note, they wear blue. :-)

I finally feel like I'm in a position where I can "pay it forward" and inspire others and show them that they can do it too, and have fun and enjoy the experience!

The team also raises money to support the Breast Cancer Fund. Rather than focusing its efforts on a cure, the Breast Cancer Fund focuses on prevention.

So, please "like" our Facebook page for all of the latest information on what the team is up to, and always feel free to drop me an email if you have questions about the team!

You quiero a carb. Any carb.

2011-12-07T14:22:00.001-10:00

I knew this was going too well. It was too easy the first couple of days. I was breezing through Paleo, bright-eyed, knuckles tight on the wheel, wind in my face, not a care in the world. Until yesterday. Which, if you're keeping score at home, boys and girls, was day three.

I'm fortunate to work from home part of the time, and commute to downtown Chicago once or twice a week. Days I work downtown are longer in nature just because I add nearly four hours of commuting to my workday shenanigans. Plus, they can be more stressful in general, with office reindeer games and whatnot.

As I was driving home last night, I was on the verge of hangry (hungry + angry) and really, really, really just wanted to dive face first into a pile of Taco Bell. (Confession: I loves me some Taco Bell. For reals. Love it.) Fortunately for me - or not, depending on how you look at it - I don't pass a Taco Bell on my way home from the train station. I do pass: several McDonald's, a Burger King, a Chipotle, a KFC, a Wendy's, a Steak 'n Shake, a Noodles, a Smashburger, a Buona Beef, a Red Robin, a Red Lobster, a Cattleman's Steakhouse, a Patio BBQ, a TGI Fridays, a Boston Market, a Jersey's Subs, a Jimmy John's, a Chilis and probably 90 other chain restaurants.

I think you get my point.

I vowed to make it home sans any bag 'o food and eat my planned dinner. I did modify my broccoli and beef slightly - I added some mustard. It's not Paleo. I get that. But it was my compromise. Either that or stop for trashy trash food. It worked. I didn't blow it.

And today, day four, has been OK so far, although I have experienced my first "hiccup." I hopped on the TM for the type of run I can do in my sleep. You know, super low heart rate, rocking out to music and just kind of mentally tuning out. I can typically pound out 5-8 miles at this speed in the piss poor shape I'm in and be relatively fine.

I remember thinking about 22 minutes into my run, "Wow, I can't believe I've already run for 22 minutes. It doesn't feel like it! Go me!" and then, I'm not kidding you, walking (slowly) by 27:37.

Who the Q#)($*U{$)(*&{(&# hits the wall 27 minutes into a run? I sure as hell don't! I may not be the fastest runner, but what I lack in speed, I make up for in stubbornness and a maddening ability to go pretty much as long as I want on a whim.

So, I've decided to slightly modify my experiment 'o one: I'm adding in sweet potatoes, rice and (gasp) white potatoes.

A girl's gotta run!

It will still be ridiculously clean to what I'm capable of shoving through my digestive system, so I'm not considering this a failure as much as a, ah, changing the rules slightly. :-) And since it's my game and I'm the ref, I call it good to go!

Today is the second day of the rest of your life

2011-12-05T12:25:00.001-10:00

I made it through the first day of Paleo. :-)

It went surprisingly well. Once I got over the shock of having fresh food exploding from my refridgerator - and actually started preparing meals - I quickly realized it's wayyyyyyy easier than I thought it would be.

And tasty. My god, every little meal and snack I've had so far is ridiculously good! I have to admit, from a tasty food perspective, this will be a piece of Paleo, er, ~~cake~~ carob nibs truffle.

But, I do realize I have a few landmines to avoid, the number one being my insane addiction to carbs and sugar. What an eye-opener! I started Paleo on a Sunday to give myself one weekend day to jump in. Had Sunday evening been a typical Sunday evening, we'd have ordered Chinese (a crapton) or eaten an entire pizza or some other gustatory delight. Instead I was watching YouTube videos on how to cut Bok Choy and pacing. Apparently I get restless when I'm not stuffing processed foods down my throat. So, I distracted myself with the nine games of Words with Friends I have running with Moose at the moment, some internet surfing and getting stuff ready for Monday.

The other sort of odd, ah, "side effect" I've noticed falls in the "too much information but I'm going to tell you anyway" category. I hopped on the scale this morning to discover that I'm just like any contestant on The Biggest Loser. I always watch and snort in disbelief when they get on the scale after a week and drop huge amounts of weight. Until today, that is. I've lost four pounds - four - in one day!

And I know I flushed it all away.

Literally.

I pee like a drunken elephant on this diet! It's remarkable! I have *no idea* where it's coming from, but man - I have certainly impressed myself.

If I keep this rate up, I'll be down to my new goal race weight in...eight days!

I'm almost done with day two. It's actually been even easier than the first day. I'm working from home, too, so plenty of opportunity to say "the hell with it" and grab a Coke Zero or dive face first into some mac 'n cheese but I've barely been hungry, let alone ravenous for carbs.

I've gotten a swim in and an easy three-miler, too. Those aren't really enough to gauge the effect of "low carb" on endurance training, yet, so stay tuned for more of that.

Learning how to eat

2011-12-04T11:20:00.002-10:00

I swore it would never happen, that I'd never shuffle into the bathroom, ashamed of my body and stare at the scale -- contemplating whether or not to hop on. But it has. I've avoided the scale for weeks. No, months. Pretty much since Rev3.

I knew what the scale would say even before I stepped onto it, and I was dead right: it practically rolled its eyes as it spit out my round number, silently judging me. Thank god I'm not geeked out enough to have a talking scale or one that compares me to former me.

I'm taking action, though, and doing something I've never done before. I'm learning how to eat -- nutrition to fuel my body, not to entertain my bored self, or comfort a stressed-out day.

I realized while we were in Arizona that my "normal" jeans were too tight for my liking and knew it was time to face my fat music. I haven't been working out ~~much~~ at all. I've been eating Ben & Jerry's like it's my job. Not to mention beer, burgers, fries (with ranch dressing!), wings, mac and cheese (the real stuff), mashed potatoes, toast with butter.

Pretty much all nutritional shit.

I've read a book about wheat being the root of all evils. I rented a documentary promoting a plant-based diet (vegan). I've talked to people about what's worked for them. I've looked back at my history. Even though I lost a crapton of weight in 2010, I wouldn't beat my chest and announce I'd done it in the spirit of fueling a hard core athlete. It was more along the lines of my high school disordered eating self. (Effective, if nothing else, but obviously not sustainable - I present Exhibit Self.)

I've decided to follow the principles of the Paleo diet. I've had the book the Paleo Diet for Athletes by Loren Cordain for years. Every now and then I get it out and thumb through it, but that's as far as I take it. I might've attempted to eat what I thought was Paleo, which usually lasted until lunch most days.

I've been quasi following a California-based nutritionist/triathlete/Paleoista/Guru, Nell Stephenson, for six or seven months now. I'm not sure how I stumbled onto her, but she has an awesome blog and website on Paleo eating for endurance athletes. She's the poster child for it, actually. Look up her race results. This girl can move!

Last week was a tough week for me. I'm stressed out at work. I'm half-assed whining about training, but not really doing anything. It's cold and dreary here, and on cue, my constant fatigue, sore throat and flu-like symptoms have returned in spite of my daily allergy pill. I refuse to spend another winter lethargic and depressed and wrapped in flannel, fleece and fat.

So, I purchased Nell's Four Week Paleo Kick Start plan. It's a four week plan that tells me pretty much what to put in my mouth, how much and how to prepare it. It's as simple as it can possibly be, and that's what I need.

I realized as I've studied this plan that I have no idea how to truly eat!

What have I been doing for 39 years?! Good lord!

Yesterday I made Moose go to a real store with me to get every single item on that plan for the first week. It was intimidating. (In the future, I won't do that -- I'll go 2-3x/week.) We typically get our food at Wal-mart or Meijer, so stepping into a store that has an ocean-sized produce department is uncomfortable for me. Isn't that sad? I was nervous and a little flustered as we went down my list and tried to find some foods I've never heard of. (Mustard greens? WTF is a mustard green?!)

Not one item of food came in a box! Some of the seafood I purchased frozen and that came in bags. I made sure that there were no sauces or non-Paleo nonsense ruining their pureness. Who am I?! hahaha

I was horrified that the cashier was going to refuse to check us out, since everything in our basket was missing a bar code. I felt my face burning as I unloaded bag after bag of produce, but luckily she didn't say anything. I guess working there, she probably sees it all the time. :-)

But isn't that a sad statement? I think so.

I woke up this morning and went to my new Master's swim practice, which was great. I love being in the water. I love learning new tips and techniques, and I wasn't disappointed.

Then I came home and worked on my Paleo menu. It's not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be, and so far, it's damn tasty. I think the hardest addictions for me to break will be ice cream and diet coke, but I'm committed to following this four week eating plan to the "T".

I'll let ya'll know how it goes!

A few of my meals so far:

Cherum Peak hike

2011-11-21T17:55:00.001-10:00

I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, but I'm beaming from my day and want to get thoughts down.

We're on vacation in Arizona. I vowed as I was packing not to bring a single training item - no swim goggles, no Garmin. (Although I did bring an old pair of running shoes.) But I'd also vowed to see if my brother, hereby referred to as Goat, and Moose would be game for hiking. (I knew they would be.)

My plan was sealed when the rental car lady asked if we wanted to upgrade to an SUV. I jumped at the chance, and our cute, black Ford Escape proved worthy on today's jaunt.

We drove north of Kingman on Highway 93 to mile marker 51 and turned off onto Big Wash Road. Getting back to our trailhead proved an adventure of its own for these flatlanders. It's a 12-mile "drive" on a twisty, windy and somewhat precarious road, especially for city dwellers. I didn't throw up or pee my pants, but I'll admit I had some sweaty palms!

Goat and I both squealed in delight as we cleared a baby tarantula and practically jumped out of the still-moving truck to go look closer at her. We caught her just as she was leaving the road. Generally speaking, spiders give me the heebie jeebies, but tarantulas are bad ass. Isn't she pretty?!

After escaping death on the road, we found the trailhead and began our climb up to 6900 feet, Cherum Peak. It was stunningly beautiful. I'm sure I remarked more than once that it was ridiculous how beautiful Arizona is.

Besides our tarantula, we saw a million Blue Jays, a falcon, two enormous mule deer and every red lady bug in America.

It took us nearly 3 hours to complete the 5-mile hike, but we were taking our time and stopped to take lots of pictures on the way up.

The summit (yes, we actually climbed up to the very top of the mountain!!!) was my first ever true summit. I felt I could reach out and grab the clouds. We found a hiking org can with a granola bar in it. We left it, since we were sharing a bag of dried fruit. :-)

Photos to the top:

Back in with both feet

2011-11-15T03:24:00.001-10:00

I'm sitting at O'Hare, the beginnings of an 11-day travel binge. The first jaunt for work; the second a much-needed recharging of my soul in Arizona. As I sit, I'm well aware of how sore my shoulders are. When I laugh or twist, I feel the burn in my abs. When I stand, my hammies sing.

I went to an offseason clinic last week on strength. We learned of 10 exercises each (30 total) to build strength and make us faster athletes. The guru of the clinic said that during the offseason is when we really work hard on all of this..and she'd be happy if we were so sore "5 or 6 times" this winter where we "have problems going down stairs."

I'm there!

Saturday I rode the trainer. Hard. Very hard. Sunday, I went to a 75-minute yoga class. It kicked my ass. And here I sit, barely able to move, and happy.

And super glad I don't need one of these. I don't know whether to think this is funny or sad:

The pain cave (cloud) is back

2011-11-12T15:21:00.002-10:00

My home gym is back in full force! Crow came home yesterday from her big adventure, and I didn't waste any time putting her to work. Well, that's not true. I wasted a day. I had her all ready to go, but it was Lazy Friday. It's the off season. No need to go nutso now. Plenty of Friday workouts to be endured later! Until then, expect some Lazy Fridays. :-)

My first ride back in the saddle was predictably craptastic. But I loved every torturous minute. 75 of them to be exact.

I didn't puke. Legs were on fire, and I saw my HR reach heights rarely seen when I'm in shape (173!!!)

I fantasized about crushing my races in 2012! Next year's gonna rock. Despite the tough workout and being a little soft, it felt faboosh.

If training is my drug, then I'm as high as a kite now.

Crow in the pain cloud. Can't really call it a cave, it's upstairs and quite light and open:

NOW I've done it!

2011-11-10T12:40:00.001-10:00

Gulp! I remember having someone tell me that once I'm done with college, I still needed to keep learning, otherwise I'd shrivel up like a walnut and die dumb. Er, something like that. My interpretation of that is to "never stop signing up for events that scare the shit out of me."

My latest?

Why yes, yes indeed - that is a United States Masters Swimming 2012 Member Card. So I can compete. As a swimmer. Because, you know signing for Ironman distance races is so boring.

Ok, that's not true. I still have nightmares about Ironman Louisville, and I completed it, uhm, five years ago. I've been known to wake up in a cold sweat about Florida. And, well, Arizona was its own personal nightmare and nothing will top that. And 2013 is the next Ironman year, so I have an entire year to scare myself silly until then, and so master's swim meets it is.

I'm not going in totally unprepared. While I haven't touched Dory since Sept.11 and I run on a very whimsical, non-committed schedule, I've been attending a swim class 90 minutes a week for the past five weeks. I've learned the basics of back, breast and fly. I've learned better flip turns skills. I've been videotaped and coached and met new swimmers, and I've joined (yet another) master's swim team. Except this swim team competes, and I've been told by my coaches I should...compete. So...I will.

Actually, as scary as it is, it's also really exciting and it's nice to have that flutter of fear again.

18

2011-10-30T12:31:00.002-10:00

I ran 18 miles this week! That's the most mileage I've run since the week of August 22, according to my logs. I toyed with running more than three miles this morning to make it a nice, big, fat round 20, but then talked myself out of it. I came home and stretched instead.

I've promised my rational self I wouldn't lace up for "just two more" later today. I have about four hours before I go to bed to manage not to stumble out those two extra miles. Considering I still need to eat dinner, figure out my work clothes for tomorrow, pack my feedings, toss tomorrow's dinner in the crockpot and get in some vegetative state TV viewing - I'm officially calling the week at 18.

I can't wait for the day I blog that I just finished an 18-miler. Baby steps.

Speaking of the stretching part, I'm proud to discover I'm flexible enough these days to squat completely and keep my feet firmly planted, no cheating! I haven't been able to keep my left foot on terra firma for years, so this, my friends, is progress. I could even pee in China and not pee on my ankle! Something I could not do in 2006. (Don't ask.)

So, what's with all the running? Well, for one, I'm a little running starved. I've pinpointed it as my weakest link in this sport of tri, too, so my winter will be very much focused on running. (And swimming, but that's another blog!)

My running goal: Whiskey Row half marathon. It's been on my "dream list" for years, so 2012 it is. Plus, it's a bonafide excuse to go back to Prescott, my nirvana. I think I've convinced Moose it's a great venue, as it finishes literally within steps of the Prescott Brewing Company. If that's not pure race director genius in action, I don't know what is.

Other week activity: 90-minute swim lessons (breaststroke) and 45 minutes of weights/core.

Another running shot from Prescott. The Peavine Trail, between Prescott Valley and Prescott.

Runswithfriends

2011-10-29T16:32:00.001-10:00

Wow, two days of running in a row! Foot didn't fall off, snap, crack or even swell up. Booya!

A couple of friends actually came to my house for a quick run. I say "actually" because I rarely invite people over. As Moose likes to point out: We. Are. Hermits.

We ended up running a very casual 4 miles around my "I have to get to work and can't run where I really want to run" route. It includes a jaunt down a path with 7-foot tall prairie grass on the sides and a pond. Not in the pond, just near it. Suburban bliss for the most part. I guess while I'm painting such a bucolic picture though, I should point out it's the same safe, suburban pond that was searched relentlessly by cops for a well-known missing local woman. (No, this doesn't make me nervous. Her husband is in jail awaiting trial for killing the wife he allegedly murdered before allegedly murdering her...and, well, Moose just doesn't have that much life insurance on me. That I know of.)

I run almost exclusively solo (and don't mind) but it is always fun to run with buddies, too. Like the prepared blogger that I am, I left my phone - and its camera - on my kitchen table. Paint your own picture, and make sure I'm cute, wore matching gloves and am at race weight.

One of those friends is heading to Panama City Beach to tackled her first Ironman next Saturday! This will be the first time in 3 years we won't be down there. I already miss it, but I'll live. I'm heading to Ann Arbor to hang with one of my super positive life influencers. I'll be lucky if I even remember what day it is. :-) I will be in a coma from laughter.

I can't wait.

Friends make everything worth it.

Adding a photo of Lucy Brown because she's cute.

Tap, tap. Is this thing on?

2011-10-28T16:41:00.001-10:00

Trying a post from my beloved iPhone with a blogger app. If this works, imma die of happiness. I have lots of bloggy thoughts and no time at my lappy top to post them.

First week back running. Er, yogging. I'm at 11 miles for 3 days. We won't mention pace or HR. I've run 3 miles twice and 5 miles once. Knock on virtual wood, no pain or stiffness whatsoever. Yay!

Test photo from a run in Prescott in September. Can't wait for my healthy self to be back there in 3 weeks. It's my nirvana!!!

I'm alive!

2011-10-21T11:13:00.002-10:00

"What I did over ~~Summer/Fall Vacation~~ during my forced rest"

The best thing about mandatory rest is my mind takes a break from heart rate zones, calories, daily weigh ins (sort of), miles, shoe rotations and strategic laundry piles. But, it doesn’t go dormant. I’ve used my downtime to sort out a lot of my thoughts and to dream about 2012.

I’ve also used this time to actually mend. It’s been a long time coming – I’ve forced triathlon all year – and my body finally said, “Enough!” Had I been wise from the first sniffle five days post Ironman Florida, and just taken some (a lot) of damn time off over the winter, this year might’ve been different, but I didn’t and well, here I sit. But I don’t feel sorry for myself, and this year has taught me a lot.

Primarily, if my heart isn’t in it and I’m not healthy, no amount of training will make a bit of difference.

I was a good girl and faithfully attended my twice-weekly PT sessions, where I did things like move marbles with my toes, step up and down on a box, try to balance (poorly) and get lots of ultrasound and deep tissue massage on my Achilles tendon. Honestly, the “exercises” made me feel a bit like a drunken toddler, but the deep tissue massage was well worth it.

I was cut loose from all of that and given the green light to resume all activities last week, but…I haven’t yet. I will when I’m ready; after I’ve purchased new running shoes. Real ones, not the minimal racers I’ve cavalierly trained in for two years. I’ve been taunting fate for quite some time, it would seem.

In my six weeks off of structured training, I’ve resumed lifting weights 1-2X a week, which I’m sure is the secret ingredient to not ballooning up to a zillion pounds. I haven’t gained much, if any weight. (I’m by no means at race weight, but I can still wear my jeans, if that makes sense.) I’m also working on core, which is one of my biggest, if not the biggest, weakness I have.

I’ve toyed around with cleaner eating, specifically cutting out all wheat, including my beloved beer (which has been replaced by wine!). It’s been difficult, and this week I’ve slipped into bad habits – a result of being very busy at work. I’ve discovered if I don’t plan for it, then I tend to regress to convenience eating -- Lean Cuisines and a lot of buttered toast.

I’ve also signed up for a five-week swim course to learn the other strokes. I know it’s a little silly to try to learn three more strokes when I’m mediocre at best at one, but now’s as good a time as any, and I harbor secret fantasies that maybe if I learn the others, I’ll magically get better at freestyle. If nothing else, the class has cemented my love of swimming. I’m having a blast and see myself being a swimmer for the rest of my life.

I guess you could say the rest has been good for me. I’m actually enjoying a little break from the grind of a schedule, trying new things and excited for the possibilities in 2012!

Rev 3 Cedar Point 57.3(ish) Race Report

2011-09-13T13:14:00.017-10:00

My 2011 tri season is over, and it ended exactly as it began: at a Rev 3 race, with a swim and a bike only.

I’m sitting here with a walking cast on my foot and a doctor’s note to cool my jets for the next four weeks while two stress fractures in my foot and Achilles tendonitis heal.

This has been a tough season for me, but I’m not really upset or disappointed.

My blog header used to say: “An Ironman can question why. An Ironman can reach out for help. But an Ironman will never quit.”

Anyone can take those words, uttered by Al Trautwig during an NBC broadcast of the Ironman World Championship, and apply them to their lives. I’m choosing to apply them to this entire year. To use another cliché, I may have lost the battle (this year, this race) but I’m winning the war (on being a better athlete), and I will not quit.

Sometimes you have to grow mentally before you can develop physically, and I truly believe this season I was meant to mature mentally as a triathlete.* I’m right where I’m supposed to be, and that’s why I’m OK with everything.

(*But I still reserve the right in a day or two, when reality sets in, to completely flip out about four weeks of no biking or running.)

And now, the race report:

PRE-RACE

The best part of racing for me is getting to do these events with my friends. It’s the entire race experience, and that includes all of the event shenanigans with my friends, that makes all of this so much fun.

Car Shenanigans

Moose and I drove the six hour drive with our friends Dan and Gaye again. Dan and I were racing; Moose and Gaye were our races Sherpas. We essentially laughed our way across two states, before arriving in Ohio Friday night.

I’d gone for a very, very short run Friday morning before we left – and, as luck would have it, developed excruciating pain in my left foot. Like, I stopped and had to sit down. I’d actually been ignoring foot and calf pain for about two weeks prior – the result of hilly runs on vacation in Arizona. "Just hang in there for two more weeks."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. (See the part above about growing mentally. This is what I’m talking about! Ignoring stabbing pain is not the way to go!)

Other than the blood clot (which I don’t consider tri-related since I had it before IMAZ and it was bc-related), I’ve only been seriously injured once in my entire sports life. Considering I’ve been a runner my entire life, I think that’s a pretty good track record. I’m like 39-2.

Saturday, Dan, Moose and I went to the pre-race swim op. I haven’t been in open water since, oh, JUNE, and I thought it’d be a good idea to make sure my wetsuit still fits (barely), I remember what it’s like to swim in chocolate milk (I’m so not kidding) and to scout the course.

I’m not sure why Lake Erie decided to vomit copious amounts of silt along her shoreline, but…she did. We were greeted by roughly 18” of messy, goopy, black mud. I thought it was hilarious and pointed out that some really rich people pay a lot of money for mud baths. Moose reminded me that we’d paid a lot of money for this mud bath.

Whatcha gonna do?!

The practice swim was uneventful (ok, here’s water, I can’t see, what else is new, nothing to do but goof off), and we had a Rev 3 guy take our photo. I think it was Charlie (the head guru), but I’m not sure. Anyway, he was super nice and said they were going to bulldoze the silt away overnight. We told him that “it is what it is and everyone would just have to deal.” Which is true? What can you do, but laugh hysterically? I mean, who’d have thought this would happen?! Really?

We checked in, got all of our race loot, purchased some last-minute race items at the AllThreeSports tent, and I hit the ART tent. Something I’ve never done before, but my foot hurt so badly that I could not walk normally. The doctor worked on me, said I had a ridiculously tight calf muscle, but that I should be OK to race.

That’s all I needed to hear.

True to form, I didn’t sleep well and finally got up 45 minutes before my alarm to putz around.

It’s funny – on any given day, I can (and do) eat like I haven’t eaten in a week, but before a race, I have to force food down a bite at a time. I can’t chew. I can’t swallow. I’m impatient and exhibit signs of ADD. It took me nearly an hour-and-a-half to eat one banana and one plain bagel with peanut butter. I typically can make that disappear in about five minutes!

Rev 3 Cedar Point has, hands down, the easiest race access and parking of any race I’ve done. So, we got there, parked and had everything set up in transition with no stress. Other than still not being able to walk without pain, things were lining up perfectly.

I told myself to swim and bike and at least try to run. I was hoping perhaps that a 3.5 hour warm up would loosen things up, and I’d be fine.

We started walking down the beach, and stayed to watch the full distance pro’s exit the water. I really wanted to see Hillary Biscay – and we did – so that made me really happy. She’s one of my favorite pro’s. She came out second and looked great.

I was going to hop in the water and do a swim warm up as my coach instructed, but the muck was still there and I didn’t feel like getting dirty just yet. (No, that’s not a joke. It seemed like a lot of drama for not a lot in return.) So, I did some one-legged jumping jacks to get my HR up and watched other waves go off.

THE SWIM

Time: 37:46
1:57/100m
7^th place

The water could not have been calmer, flatter or easier to swim in. Ok, that’s a lie – it could’ve had some visibility. But overall, it was perfect.

I seeded myself towards the middle/front of the pack – and immediately lost ground when the horn went off. We had to run/wade out about 75 yards in the knee-deep muck, and it really made my foot hurt. By the time I started swimming, I was at the back of the pack.

I’ve worked tremendously hard on the swim this summer. Very, very hard.

Typically for a race swim, I tend to hang out, keep it easy and just try to protect myself. I don't push it or try to “race.” But I’ve crushed my times in the pool and am within nine seconds of my ultimate goal (to swim a 1:30/100m – I swam 1:39 this summer more than once) – and knew I could swim harder than I traditionally have.

Still skittish of swimming in traffic, though, I skirted to wide of the buoys and started passing women on the left. It worked – I was in clean water and swimming my ass off. I broke the swim into thirds – out, across and back, and told myself to swim each one progressively faster. So, by the time I turned to head back to shore, I was hauling! It was so fun. I was literally passing swimmers like they were standing still. It was awesome!

So, I was dismayed that my time out was 37:46. Almost three minutes off my PR at Steelhead last year. I can only assume the wading at the beginning ate into that time – because I *know* I swam harder/better than I ever have, and was actually expecting to see 33:00 - 34:00 on my time, not almost 38:00.

I was 7^th in my AG, so going off that, I did, indeed, nail the swim!

This year they had wetsuit strippers, which totally shocked me. I almost ran right past them!

My foot was killing me up the sand and into T1, but I told myself it was because I was barefoot and it would be better with a shoe.

Out of T1 as fast as possible, and on the bike. Whew. I smiled to myself for a solid swim, even though my time wasn’t great. Check one box off.

THE BIKE

2:49:44
19.8 m.p.h
Still in 7th place after the bike!

I followed Liz’s advice and took it very easy all the way out of the park, and even out into traffic. They’d had to revise the course due to road construction, so about half the course was new over last year.

The guys at Rev 3 did a great job of altering the course last-minute, I thought.

But…I know it’s Ohio and they get nasty snows all winter – and the roads showed it. The first 45 minutes out and last 45 minutes coming in (so over half the course) were really bad: lots of potholes, holes in general, debris, patches and chip seal, and what felt like a million turns. Oh, and a lot of very frustrated drivers since we essentially took out major roads all over downtown Sandusky. It was not an easy ride, and I didn’t even get into aero for probably the first ten miles.

I focused on my nutrition. Liz has worked hard with me to dial in my nutrition requirements, which included switching what I drink and (radically) upping my calorie intake. I’m thrilled that for a 2:45 bike, I can take in 800 calories and not suffer any GI issues! When I finally do run, I’m gonna blow the barn doors off.

I know it’s all coming together, and next year – watch out!

The middle section of the bike course was awesome. Smooth, smooth roads and hills.

What’s that? Why, yes, I did just call hills “awesome.”

I don’t know if it’s the new bike fit I got earlier this year or what, but I can scream down hills these days. I clocked 33.6 m.p.h. at my fastest. I know. Who am I? I was having a blast.

Coming back through town again, I backed off, and was in a lot of bike traffic by this point. About a mile from the turn back into the access road the park, a peloton of about 15 riders buzzed within four inches of me. I sat up to let them go and yelled, “seriously?!” at them. I don’t get drafters, and I really don’t get drafters who feel the need to ride so close to me that I can feel their arm hair.

I didn’t come in at my goal time of 2:45, but I came in at 2:49 – and I clocked 57 miles on my odometer. So did a friend, so I think maybe the course was long. Either way, I'm still really happy with my bike, too. I rode smart and strong.

I spun it out on the way into the park, trying to determine what was up with my foot. It hadn’t really hurt at all on the ride, so I was hopeful my run would be a “go.” You know, race endorphins and all that.

THE RUN THAT WASN’T

That would be a big, fat no. I knew as soon as I tried to slip my foot into my running shoe and started howling that things weren’t looking good. A volunteer asked me if I was OK. I gritted my teeth and said I was fine. I stood up, grabbed my nutrition and started to run.

Ou.Ch.

I had to pee by now (I always do by the time I get to the run. I just can’t pee on Dory. I can’t.), so I stopped at the portapotty in transition. Kept it quick, and out I go. I couldn’t run. The pain in my foot was excruciating. I quickly decided that it was beyond stupid to even try to run a mile, let alone 13, on this foot since I was already hobbling.

A mature choice was to be made: I could be out for a few weeks, or a year. Up to me.

I swallowed my ego and walked off the course, a big, fat DNF.

AND NOW

I’ve continued to be rational about this, now that I’ve admitted I’m injured. After walking off the course, we drove home same day so I could get in to see a doc on Monday. Moose was sure I’d back down from that commitment, but nope – I was on the phone to schedule an appointment at 8:01 a.m. To my surprise, I got in to see an Orthopedic same day.

Upon examination, which included X-rays and a lot of painful poking, he diagnosed me with a stress fracture in my third and fourth metatarsals (which was not a surprise) and also with Achilles tendonitis (which was a huge surprise). I knew my lower leg was really sore, but I was so focused on my foot.

The doc is concerned about my Achilles and my lack of flexibility in my lower leg. He pointed out a nodule on the tendon, and said if I'm not better after a month of PT, that we need to do an MRI. He educated me on the difference between tendonitis and tendonosis, and hopes I have tendonitis, which is easier to control than tendonosis. He wants to see if the nodule goes down in size. So, fingers crossed on that front! (The whole Achilles thing came out of left field. I honestly had no clue I even had an issue. Like, no clue. None.)

I’m sporting a bulky, gray walking cast and start physical therapy this week.

Just call me Dawn. Dawn (ominous) Vader (breath)

I can swim and lift, so I’ll do that. I’m on a streak with swimming – figure I’ll try to move up to maybe 2^nd or even 3^rd out of the water next year (hee hee). And since I’m not training or racing, I can fixate on diet to get leaner and meaner.

It’s all good. I’m fine, really. I’m going to enjoy the time off, take the opportunity to heal myself, and rest – something I didn’t do after my killer year last year. This way, when 2012 rolls around, I’m not only healthy physically, but mentally ready to give the women in my AG a run for their money!

What's in your treasure chest?

2011-08-14T13:52:00.005-10:00

My birthday is tomorrow. Unless I get sidetracked writing this. In that case, it’s probably today.

I’m not big on setting resolutions at the start of the year, but I do consider my birthday an unofficial midyear check-in for how things are going. I vaguely realize it’s more than half way, but not enough to care that’s it’s not precisely half. Remember, I don’t do math.

While I seem to have found my training mojo, I’m still not at 110 percent. Close, but not there. I’m super excited to race Rev3, but I’ll also be relieved when it’s over. I sorta feel like I need this year to be done so I can start next year. I know it sounds weird and a little cuckoo. It's as if I’m in triathlon jail this season; I am: self-imposed solitary confinement. I’m ready for my sentence to be served. I miss my friends immensely.

I very much have goals and dreams for next year, and I’m excited about them. Training begins “around October ish” – with my friends back in the picture.

So, in keeping with my quasi survey of the year, overall I’m incredibly happy.

I’m going to switch gears and write about some of the things that make me so smiley. Yes, material things. Non-triathlon things. I do, actually, have a very robust life away from swimbikerun, although I rarely write about it; what, with this being a blog about my training and racing.

Obligatory I’m-not-an-asshole caveat: I’m surrounded by people I love and who love me. I have the best furbabies, an awesome job and overall, life is great. I’m right where I dreamed I’d be as a younger me. I’m not talking about that pot of gold here, though. I’m talking about things that can be bought! They are not loyal. They do not love me back. There’s nothing unique about any of them, but they still make me happy.

Obligatory I’m-not-an-asshole caveat part two: I’m not materialistic in the "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" sense. I drive a ten-year-old Honda. We live in one of the smallest houses in our subdivision. We buy aluminum bikes, and accessories we can afford. We wear clothes that are a decade old. We don’t have a maid service or a lawn service. We do all our own chores (unless we're Ironman training. Then we blatantly ignore them and never answer the door). We eat at places like Chipotle and Red Robin on a "fancy" night.

But, I still have things I love! Like, if I had ten minutes to grab stuff before everything disappeared, this’d be in my pillowcase:

My favorite possession is my iPhone. It’s also my newest. I’ve wanted one for years, and patiently waited for my previous carrier, Sprint, to offer them. After eons of waiting, I finally bit the iBullet, so to speak, and switched to Verizon in early July. It's one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. My iPhone has essentially replaced my laptop at home for almost everything. I mean, I’m writing this on my laptop, but my time spent with the laptop burning a hole through my sweats is one-tenth the time it used to be. In a sense, my iPhone has given me more freedom.

Also on the electronics front is my Amazon Kindle. It brings me hours of joy. I love this toy! It’s the perfect size for my Timbuk2 commuter bag. And, as a serial book reader, keeps me merrily up to my eyeballs in several books at any given moment. Seeing how I spend about 90 minutes a day on the train, that’s a lot of books! I just finished the Hunger Games trilogy and am now reading a Chelsea Handler book and a book about the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

My Levi’s 529 (curvy) jeans. Finally, someone got it right! I am not, and never will be, rail thin. Even at the height of Ironman training, at 5’7 and 17 percent body fat, my thighs (ahem, quads) always outsize my waist and I'd get that annoying gap. Well, until these jeans. They are a perfect fit, and I live in them.

My red Team Tri Smart hoodie. It’s red. Perfect size. Oddly dog hair repellent. Snuggly - like wearing a hug. So perfect, I now own two.

My Uggs. I remember when these first hit the scene. I was in college (early 90’s) and there was no way I could afford Uggs. Two years ago, when I was on rat poison and freezing my drugged up butt off all winter, my Uggs kept me alive. Ok, that’s a bit dramatic. But I did have a few nights where I was so cold I actually slept in them (yes, indoors in a heated bedroom). I still have the same pair and still love them just as much, although I’ve promised Moose to never ever ever ever wear them in bed ever again.

Crow.

What?! I know, I said no tri stuff. But she’s not really tri stuff. Crow is my first road bike. She’s five-years-old now and lives mostly on the trainer. She fits me like a glove, and I feel I could take her out at any given moment and pound out 100 carefree miles. She brings a smile to my face!

So, in a nutshell, it appears I have a fondness for electronics and comfortable clothing. :-)

My assessment: 2011 is a totally fine year. It's a growing year. I'm discovering a lot about myself, while comfortably dressed and well-connected.

So, how is your 2011, and more importantly, what's in your treasure chest?!

My pirate booty taken with my iPhone: Crow (sort of), Levi's, hoodie, Kindle and Uggs.

Just call me ToyBox

2011-08-08T12:31:00.009-10:00

(From Diana's website. How bad ass is this photo?!)

I’m watching Diana Nyad attempt to swim 103 miles from Cuba to Florida intently. I can’t fathom swimming that far, but I get why she’s doing it, and so I’m slightly obsessed with her attempt. (Dear Moose: don’t worry, I promise not to do this!**) Plus, CNN’s live tracker feeds my obsession. I can take a nap or eat dinner and click “refresh” to see how far her little red dot has traveled. I like red dots on maps. I do.

I should also point out, for anyone living under a rock, that she’s almost 62!

I fully intend to still be swimming at 62, just not 103 miles at once. Maybe over the course of a year.

I’ve really enjoyed my swimming this summer. I think a lot of it has to do with not getting up at the brink of absurdity (4:30 a.m.) to make master’s swim. Between the wonderful, large outdoor pool at LTF and my fabulous work perk of being able to work from home 2-3 days a week, I’m having a good time.

It’s showing in my times, too. I never thought I’d be the kind of person to swim on my own. Since I learned to swim a few years ago, I’ve pretty much been a master’s devotee. But I’ve also got attention-span issues and a healthy dose of competitiveness, both of which don’t bode well in a group setting. I’m usually more focused on what everyone else is doing and trying to match them or beat them, always to my own detriment.

So imagine my surprise at knocking significant amounts of time off my swimming by my solo swims! I’m positive it’s because I don’t have any distractions. I spend a lot of time – all of it, actually – fine tuning my stroke and technique. It’s pretty cool.

Not that I’m the only one in the pool, mind you.

I usually slip in after the master’s team has left and before the kidlets overrun the place. I do still work and do still need to be present and accounted for by 9 a.m. at the latest, so that’s the ideal time.

Because I tend to be shy in person (cough, understatement, cough) and never know what to say to strangers, I mostly keep to myself even though I see the same three other people almost daily. I’ve nicknamed them:

Aunt Meg: looks like Aunt Meg from the movie Twister. I'd probably follow her home for mashed potatoes and a juicy steak. She’s always in lane 1 and always swims without getting her hair wet. She talked to me once about my grab-bag swim suit. It's blue and has, among other things, a jet on it. She found that amusing. I know I lost her when I started yammering about the Interwebz and online shopping, but I wave to her the most, and she always waves back.

On that same note is Fitness Barbie: she’s the super tan, super blonde, ultra fit aquaciser, and she’s always in lane 6. She, too, needs a swim cap, although unlike Aunt Meg, she routinely swims and puts her face in the water. I silently blame her every time I get strands of long, blonde hair stuck to my goggles, or paddles, but deeply admire her ability to bronze and her uber beautiful hair (as long as it's not stuck on me).

My favorite regular is Scuba Steve. He’s usually in lane 5, next to Barbie, and I think that’s 100% strategic on his part, if you know what I mean (wink, wink). He swims a lot, all of it at the bottom of the pool, and all of it with full scuba gear, sans tank. Sometimes he wears baggie shorts, but most of the time he’s in a European Speedo. He typically gives me a water report as I get ready: cloudy or clear, penny counts, the usual. He’s probably my favorite.

They're all comforting to see; they are part of my routine and my mornings, and I'll miss seeing them when they close the pool for the season.

And as for me, I’m sure they have a nickname for me. What’s good for the goose…

If I had to nickname me, I’d call me ToyBox, what with my endless stream of swim tools – fins, kick board, pull buoy, paddles, and rubber bands -- and let’s not forget my wild swimwear. My philosophy on suits is: I can never have enough and the funnier/busier the pattern, the more I like them!

In a few weeks, the outdoor pool will be closed, and I’ll be forced indoors. I’m pretty sure I’ll head to my tri team’s pool for the winter. I miss my ~~competition~~ teammates and that pool is the prettiest pool I’ve ever swam in. I’m hoping to keep my head on straight and not lose what I’ve gained this summer.

In the time it’s taken me to pound this out, Diana has probably covered two miles. You go, girl!

(**Although I’m all for splashing around in the Florida Keys.)

The Fire Within

2011-07-18T05:53:00.003-10:00

"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday as Moose and I were standing on the side of a road in 100+ degree temps, clanging cowbells and cheering ourselves silly for Ironman Racine 70.3 athletes, something inside me ignited; something else melted. And no, I’m not talking about accidentally setting myself on fire with sunglasses perched on my head and as a result, melting them into my hair – although in that heat, that probably could’ve happened.

I want to race again.

Race. I want to race. I want to win. I haven’t had this desire in over eight months, and it’s back with a fury. I’m intoxicated with energy and passion, and a little woozy at the strength of my rediscovered drive.

Whew! I thought I was destined to be a bitter, washed out one-season wonder dog.

Good to know it was just a slump.

I’m inspired by my friends who raced yesterday. One friend, Kara, makes it look easy. She always does. She ~~loves~~ hates to swim, but even coming out of the water in 65^th place in her AG doesn’t stop her. Nope. She raced her little legs off and ended up winning – WINNING – her AG. And she did it all with a huge smile, despite the oppressive heat and huge disadvantage in the water.

She let me ~~drool over~~ glance at her registration for 70.3 Worlds in Las Vegas in September. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t mean anything. It’s one piece of paper and yet it’s so much more than that. I also got to peek at her AG award as they were setting them up. Pretty nice!

My other friend, Dan, does not make it look easy. He’s three times the size of Kara. And he’s out there on the same course, fighting the same heat, (maybe not smiling as broadly) and finishing against all odds.

He helped ignite my fire, too. He was racing his legs off, and for the first time this year -- when I saw Kara and Dan, I was jealous. Me, too! I want to do that! Let me in! I promise I’ll be good! Give me another chance!

I want to toe the line and know that I’ve trained the hardest, eaten the cleanest and everything else in my power to be the best I could be on that day.

And with that, something in me finally melted. My icy anger, bitterness and frustration with my day at Ironman Florida is gone.

It’s consumed me. All year, it’s been in the back of my mind, eating at me. Taking up energy. Making me sick. Poisoning my relationships.

It’s impossible to move forward when my neck is craned backwards, staring at Florida and all the mistakes I made. If that sounds cheesy, well, I did just spend an entire day in Wisconsin.

I’ve let it go. I’m moving on. It’s time. I have other things to do with my energy.

Dancing with the Devil

2011-07-09T11:54:00.016-10:00

It's not that I'm totally done with triathlon. Quite the contrary, but this year is definitely a "hang on and try to maintain technique and some fitness" so '12 will be big.

I've been regularly beating myself up about how this season is unfolding. Let's face it, it's fallen a bit, ah, flat. It's obvious with my race shenanigans that my heart isn't in it. If I truly cared, I wouldn't start in the wrong wave, not notice a missing chip or blow a race off completely after driving 4 hours (rt).

And it's OK.

I realized just how normal I am at a recent BBQ/reunion with the 4 guys I did IMFL with. We are all on the same page: burnt out and lethargic. We're all bumbling through the year half-assed and non-committed. It's not just me.

So, rather than fight it, I'm accepting it. I have one more tri on the roster, and that's it. I'm not one of those people who can churn out 110% effort month after month, year after year.

Which is to not say I'm not training. I'm training really hard right now, but I've taken the pressure off myself to weigh in at 125 pounds and be 16% body fat, to PR at everything and to be an all-star.

Which leads me to this race report.

I'd learned about Dances with Dirt in Hell, Michigan probably eight years ago. That's the original race in a series - and at that location, they have a 50K and a 50-mile option. I may be enthusiastic, but I'm not completely reckless, so I've never signed up.

This year I learned of another Dances with Dirt race - about 3.5 hours from my house - in Baraboo, Wisconsin. It's their Devil's Lake race, and in addition to the ultras, they offer marathon, half marathon and 10K distances.

I jumped at the half marathon distance, and signed up months ago. Like in January.

The one benefit of my general malaise is I never actually bothered to read anything about this race. Had I, I might've scared myself out of doing it!

We drove up with another couple, with me and one of our friends doing the race. Moose and the other friend were along for support. Packet pick-up on Friday was a breeze. This venue could not have been more opposite from an Ironman. Well, the whole event had more of a hippie, laid back feel to it than the showboaty, chest-beating, "how much $ can I spend on crap to be faster" Ironman scene. Of course I loved it!

Walking to the start with my friend, Kurt, who also ran.

I slipped into my running shoes, filled my water bottle, and we were ready. A refreshing break from trying to organize a transition area and squeeze into a wetsuit at the crack ass of early. We even had time to actually grab the free continental breakfast at our hotel! Sweet! I had eggs and toast, if you're curious.

The start line was awesome. We did have chips, but other than the timing mat, the start was not much more than a banner and a guy with a bullhorn telling us to go! Again, I ate the simplicity up.

I had no idea what to expect in terms of terrain, pacing or other runners. I packed my Race-ready shorts with 6 gels and a baggie of salt tablets. We took off across a field, down a sandy road about .25 of a mile - and promptly bottle-necked.

I tried not to be annoyed.

We were cramming 500ish runners onto singe-track. I quickly -- and I mean quickly -- realized this wasn't going to be a Sunday run at Waterfall Glen. I usually run there - it's a joke in terms of terrain AND hills compared to this. Again, uber glad I did not research this ahead of time! Ignorance in this case was truly blissful.

I purposely did not wear my Garmin. I never raced with it last year and I was fine. I didn't want to know how fast (or slow) I was going. I did find this elevation chart, though, from a girl who did it last year. Keep in mind, I consider an elevation change of 160 feet over 9.5 miles "hilly." Uhm, yeah. We climbed 850 feet in the first 3 miles! And then ran down it at the end. :-)

Again, this image isn't mine. I Googled it. But it's this race. Gulp.

I wish I could say I marveled at the stunning beauty around me, but my eyes were keenly focused on the trail in front of me! I had no interest in learning to fly. Visions of tripping and launching off the side of a cliff, or worse - landing on the rocky trail -- kept me on high alert. The first 4.2 miles had a technical rating of 4.6. I don't know the textbook term for this, but my interpretation is "holy fvck!"

Even with the number of runners and the 6" wide trail (maybe it was leeetle wider than that. But not much!), we quickly thinned out.

I fell in behind a woman who looked like she knew what she was doing, and learned from her: walk the uphills. Run the flats and the downhills. (Er, if there had been flats...) Got it.

At one point, we were on the side of a cliff, an overhang if you will, with a 300 foot drop off to our left. *This* I stopped for! (We were climbing natural steps here anyway, what's a :30 break?) Beautiful. Trees and the real Devil's Lake peeking out of a corner of the view. It was also cool, shady and breezy.

I didn't stay long, though. I mean, I was racing. Sort of.

I was sore by this point, especially my feet. I wore my Saucony Hurricane's. They're the sturdiest shoes I own - but they're not trail shoes. I wonder if trail shoes would even make a difference. The trail wasn't soft like I expected. It was littered with a jagged rocks and evil roots trying to trip us up. Even now, the bottoms of my feet feel bruised and tender.

I asked a girl with a Garmin what mile we were on. Uhm, 6.5. I glanced at my Timex and burst out laughing: 1:26. Definitely not burning up the course here.

Except I was. At least for me, with zero trail experience. I was running as hard as I could. I was drenched in sweat (it eventually reached 93 degrees today). At one aid station, a volunteer made a joke, asking if I'd come out of a dishwasher.

If you think running downhill for 4.2 miles on a technical trail is easy, I'd love to see your opinion after a jaunt on this trail. :-)

Towards the bottom of the hill (and near the end!) I ran into a group of runners, including a woman I'd been leap-frogging with all day. We had three stream crossings again (oh, did I forget to mention that earlier?!) - and she said, "lets go through them instead of jumping rocks!" I readily agreed and we plowed through them, laughing and enjoying the tiny bit of cool relief. We ran side-by-side to the finish, then I dropped back to let her "win."

Despite filling my 20-ounce amphipod FIVE TIMES during the race, I was still out of water and devil hot at the finish!

The finish was a great party. Laid back, yet still festive and well, an end-of-race party. They even had "showers!" (A hose to the nearby pond, but it was the best shower evar.)

Things I learned today:

I love trail running. No surprise there.
I have my work cut out for me to improve.
Trail running can in no way, shape or form be compared to a road race. Not one bit.
Either wear a super-tight shirt, or better yet, no shirt. My baggy top got caught on everything!
Hats are better than visors.
Trail shoes are probably a good idea.
Chillin' during a race and going with the flow makes for a very enjoyable day. Slow down!
You can never have too many salt tabs.
If scratches and sore muscles are the extent of my war wounds, it's been a great day!

I thought of RBR and Geek Girl. How the hell do they do this week in and week out?! I'm not sure, but I'm inspired by their experiences and can't wait to find my next race!

My official time was 2:44:04 (12:31/mile). 15th in AG. About an hour off my 13.1 PR - which, after talking to the other runners today, is "about right."

The Dances with Dirt crew is spot-on. They put on a phenomenal race in one of the country's most beautiful areas. I can't wait to do their other races, including, yes, an ultra in Hell.

Chips falling where they may and other race thoughts

2011-06-09T05:33:00.009-10:00

Pre-race with my friend, Dan. I'm on the left.

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Or, more appropriately, if a girl finishes a triathlon, and there’s no timing chip on her ankle when she finishes, does she still count?

That smacking sound you hear is my open palm slapping my forehead in frustration, and I’m betting you can guess why.

Just guess.

C’mon. I’ll give you a hint: it has nothing to do with falling trees.

Sunday was the official start to my racing season with the small and superbly-run Lake Mills Sprint triathlon. I did it last year for the first time, and loved it so much I went back this year for another dose. In spite of the cow and cheese jokes, I really do love Wisconsin. It's such a different vibe than our insane Chicago lives - beautiful, rolling hills and the nicest people on the planet. Again, if it didn't snow even more there than here, I'd move in a heartbeat.

One of my big fears this season is that last year was a dream, a fading dream at that, and I won’t be able to compete any more. I know I’m not that great of a triathlete – really, I’m not, but last year I was really good for me. And I’d feared I’d lost that.

Mental basketcase in general + weeks and weeks of missed training due to illness = no confidence. Well, I can put that fear to rest!

And worry about other, more pressing fears. Like losing my chip in the middle of a race.

PRE-RACE
Confident of our ability to make the seven minute drive from our hotel to the race site and still have oodles of time to check in and get in the water for a bit, we took our sweet time. That left us exactly 17 seconds for a warm-up swim before we were asked to leave the water so the race could start. Oh well. I didn’t want to burn up all my energy warming up anyway.

Setting up in transition, merrily unaware that the little blue chip's time on my ankle is short-lived.

THE SWIM
My wave was the last to go, so I stood around chatting with Moose and a friend. I decided that even though my training has been so spotty lately, and I’m not in great shape, that I’d actually try to swim hard. This is a new concept for me. I always seed myself near the back and really take it easy swimming. I daydream. I lollygag. I’m as passive as they come. My race usually starts when I hit the pedals.

So, I started up front. Like. UP. FRONT.

I'm all stealthy up front.

And it worked! No one swam over me; I had clear open water and swam hard. There was no easing into it. I bolted from the minute the gun went off and tried to maintain that the entire swim.

Since I have a tendency to freak out a bit (cough panic attack cough) in cold/murky water, I spent the entire swim talking myself off the ledge. Things like, “you’re not dying. You’re not having a heart attack. You’re not going to drown. There is no shark, no lake monster, no rabid trout coming to eat you.”

Sprints are so short!

I was out of the water in a flash. Literally! I was :50 faster than last year! Holy cow! I didn’t know this at the time – I just knew I’d swam harder than I have ever swam in a race and I was intoxicated with speed. (Relative speed.)

Which came to a crashing halt with my disastrous T1. And it can only be described as “disastrous.”

My 3:00+ T1 quickly brought me back to reality. I couldn’t get my wetsuit off. I’ve started racing with my Garmin, so I have to take that off and put it back on in T1. I couldn’t find my wetsuit tug. I was off balance. In a one word summary, it sucked. In a three word summary, it sucked assssssss. In frustration, I finally wrangled out of it – and unbeknownst to me – my timing chip, too.

THE BIKE
Continuing with my new strategy of aggression, I rode as hard as I could. This was my first true chance to open Dory up and fly with my new fit. I’m a lot more aero than I used to be – and I could tell. I was flying. Really flying. I knew I was going really fast, and it hurt – it hurt a lot, but I just kept thinking, “It’s only 16 miles. You got this. 16 miles.” I don’t know what my overall average was (even though I had my Garmin on, I’m still learning how to use the multisport setting), but I clocked my fastest-ever mile in a race: 24.3 mph.

I passed approximately one million people, and before I knew it, I was back in transition for the run.

T2 was way better than T1. I’m positive I was in and out in seconds, as opposed to minutes.

THE RUN
I knew my run was going to be a weakness. I haven’t run in weeks, and I’m carrying extra weight. Plus, for whatever reason, I’m pretty OK swimming and biking, but running causes a lot of snarfing and coughing and wheezing and congestion. I sound like a badger or a Tasmanian devil.

I headed out and stopped counting people in my AG after the third woman passed me in mere seconds. Any lead I had on the bike was eaten away in steps, and the aggression I had was long gone – now it was just one foot in front of the other. I passed one of the elite women standing along the course, cheering people on. I overhead her say that she kept repeating, “don’t vomit, don’t vomit” over and over in her head, so I started chanting that.

Good times.

As soon as I crossed the finish line, I stopped so the volunteer could take my chip. It was then and only then that I realized I didn’t have it anymore. D’oh! I was like, “OMG! What do I do?! Where did it go?! I knew those fish were dangerous!”

I ran back to the T spot, which looked like the aftermath of a hurricane, and eventually found it inside the leg of my wetsuit. I ran it back to the volunteer, who directed me to the race director.

Oh, the beauty of a small, well-run race. I explained to her what happened and she had me go to the timing van, where I gave them my bib#, showed them my Garmin and they wrote it down, and that was that. I’m listed in the results, although I’m missing all of my splits.

And I’ll never not notice my chip is missing ever again!

In other news:
The docs are now exploring the theory that I have “allergies” and have put me on allergy drugs. As skeptical as I was with this latest diagnosis – I have to admit – it seems to be helping *a lot* and maybe they’re finally onto something. I still don’t feel 100% but I feel way better than I have.

STATS
Weight: 139.2
Swim: 8:33
And my OA time was 1:25:45
.25 mile swim, 16 mile bike, 5K run

Despite being sick and missing oodles and oodles of training, I was only 1:07 off last year’s time! Woohoo! I still got it. :-)

When yer yapper doesn't yap

2011-05-25T16:52:00.008-10:00

It's 7 p.m. and I'm sitting on my bed in a hotel room in downtown Seattle. I've just eaten a gallon of clam chowder, and I'm basically waiting until I can legally fall asleep. If I drift off this early, I'll wake up at midnight wide awake. I have my Excedrin p.m. locked and loaded, so even though I will still nod off ridiculously early, this will ensure that I sleep in like a rock star tomorrow morning.

I'm having a great time in Seattle. I've been here three days, and absolutely love it. I love that there are two bike lanes on the city street outside my hotel. I love the hills and the green and the (sort of) proximity to the ocean. I love seeing Mt. Rainier, my corporate headquarters, fresh salmon and the trees on the roof of the condo building across the street. I love that I can get a salt bagel in 20 steps from my door and be on the waterfront in a ten-minute walk.

So, why the long face?

Because, I thought I'd finally dodged the virus (?) that's been lurking in my body since IMFL, and I've gotten a rude ass awakening. And, much to my dismay, it seems that every time I get sick, it's longer and more severe.

I've been illin' for an entire week now. Yes, again. And, no, I don't remember how many times this is now. Seven? Eight? I honestly don't know.

In the week since I first became host to the illness du semaine, I've managed to train maybe, maybe, 3 hours total. I feel my fitness slipping away and feel helpless. But I'm too tired to do anything about it.

I've seen two doctors, and have my general practitioner literally waiting for me to return home so he can see me. I'm on antibiotics (which aren't helping), and every single vitamin or herb I can find that might help me: echinacea, fish oil, probiotics, Emergen-c vitamin shots...and it's not working.

None of it is helping.

Not to mention, Robitussin, two kinds of cough drops, generic cough suppressants, Vicks vaporub (per Mama Snoop), hot tea, cold tea, steamy showers, honey and lemon, whiskey, honey and lemon, pure honey... I've spent more $ at the Seattle pharmacy (called Bartell's) than I have on food here!

I'd so rather be shelling out dough for the latest tri gear, not this shit!

Besides making my entire business week in Seattle sort of a bust, it's painful. I hurt. My throat hurts. Like, I'll just be sitting and it'll actually cramp. Really? Really? So unnecessary, body!

Today, I coughed so hard that I threw up my lunch. The execs I'm here to meet gotta love me. I know I'm sure as shit impressing myself. Meh. And, if that isn't sexy enough, my right eye is oozing green...ooze.

Someone gimme a kiss.

I've gone through 3 solid boxes of Kleenex.That's a box a day. That's more tissues the US debt total (approximately ten kagrillion)! I wonder if the maid finds that impressive, annoying or gross. Or all the above.

I said a few posts ago that I'd be fine if I lost my voice, because I'm not a great speaker. Can I have a do-over on that? I obviously didn't know what I was yammering about.

I haven't been able to talk for two fulls days now. When your yapper doesn't yap.

REV3 Olympic Aquabike Race Report

2011-05-20T04:48:00.008-10:00

Standing in line for Chipotle the other night with Moose, our conversation went something like this as we discussed my recent race shenanigans at REV3 Knoxville:

YOU DID WHAT?
Moose: So, lemme get this straight. You had to get your time corrected…why?

Me: Because I started with the wrong wave.

Moose: And why was your swim time twenty seconds per 100m slower than any of your races last year?

Me: Uhm, because I’m fat and out of shape? Oh, and…I might’ve swam too far. Or something. I’m not sure. (Mumbling) I wasn’t certain where to turn.

Moose: And you had no idea it was hilly there? Didn’t you research this at all?

Me: Uhm, no. I mean, I knew it was hilly, just not THAT hilly.

Moose: And you didn’t know how to turn your chip in after you got off the bike, or where the finish even was?

Me: Oh, no, I knew where the finish was! It was behind our hotel.

Moose: So you drove 22 hours to be in this race. You had no idea when to start, where to turn on the swim course, that the bike course would be your worst nightmare or what to do when you finished?

Me: Yup, that pretty much sums it up. But I had a blast! I’d like the salad with…

So, technically I haven’t done my first tri of the season yet, but I’m inching my way closer.

LEARN TO SAY NO FOR CHRISSAKE!
Really, the only reason I signed up for this race is because underneath my shiny exterior, I’m an insecure twelve-year-old, and the cool kids asked me if I wanted to go. We were standing in the locker room after Master’s swim one day in January, and they were chatting about it. The locker room is the size of a bathroom stall, so I was right there by default. I think they felt they had to ask me, and I surprised them and myself by agreeing to go. I didn’t even know where Knoxville was. Plus, it was a REV3 race.

For the record, it’s 11 hours by car one way from my house. E-l-e-v-e-n.

Fortunately, the girls in my car had about the same size bladder and interest in eating as I do, so there were no backseat brawls or anything like that to make the weekend unbearable.

We came up with a fantastic idea for an app, though: “How many Cracker Barrels will you pass on your trip?” I’m pretty sure every other exit between Bolingbrook and Knoxville had at least one, but there may be more. They may pair them up on dueling sides of the freeway. We ate at two, if anyone is keeping track. They have amazing biscuits just oozing with white carbs. Polish a couple of those suckers off with some honey and you have one nasty insulin bomb!

I need to learn to say no.

SIX MONTHS OFF IS AS LONG AS IT SOUNDS
My head hasn’t been in the game, and this weekend was a slap back to reality. I was so not prepared. Not just physically, but mentally. I had zero focus. I think subconsciously I didn’t want to be there, and it became rather apparent at race time.

It’s like I showed up on test day and didn’t realize there was a test.

I didn’t know which wave to start with: Aquabike or Oly. And in case you’re wondering, yes we blew off the course talk to go to a local pub, figuring the course was pretty self-explanatory and besides, how many chances would we have for local brewskies?

Big mistake.

The Aquabikes were lumped in with the 70.3 women, and all references to the wave were in terms of 70.3. I also was going to try to draft for the first time ever per coach, and figured my chances of finding someone to draft off of would be easier in a wave going the same distance I was. In the end, that was a moot point because I swam almost entirely on my own and may or may not have made the correct turn. I’ll never know.

Lesson learned.

The swim was typically physical at first, and I actually thought I’m might’ve gotten my pinky finger broken. (It's fine, now.) It happened within the first 300 meters. I was attempting to draft off a woman and she karate chopped my hand with a full force kick as my hand was crawling up her ass. Bitch!

Drafting: fail.

My goggles were goopy and fogged up too, so I was doing the old lady bifocals bend to try to see anything. That probably has more to do with my swim course confusion than not paying attention to directions.

Bygones.

When I finally made it to the boat dock, I had to be hoisted out of the water by a manly man like a drowning cow. That’s hot. I once again thanked my new coach for recommending I not race the full event. I was quivering, rubberized mess. (More on my new coach in an upcoming post!)

Up the ramp, across the road and into transition, where I took a nap and posed for photos. Ok, not really, but I could’ve. My T1 time was a rock solid 3:38. Apparently I’m still set on Ironman time.

I grabbed Dory, and off we went.

Here’s the other big news: Dory is radically different. Oh, yes. I was refit on her several weeks ago, and while she may look like the same bike, I’m now sitting a couple of cm higher in the saddle (approximately one inch) and considerably lower (like 5.5 cm/3 inches!) in the front. Had the Knoxville course been flat, I’m sure I would’ve set the roads on fire, but alas, that wasn’t to be. I saw flashes of speed, but nothing steady.

That bike course is the type of course that makes me wake up in a cold sweat: very windy (whine-dee, not to be confused with win-dee), very hilly, tough climbs and screaming, narrow, twisting descents. I’m uber proud to announce I didn’t walk down a single hill, but my bike average is abysmal. I was terrified. I’d easily pass the same people going uphill, and they – and every grandma on the course –would zoom past me on the descents.

Between strings of obscenities, I quietly thanked my coach for agreeing Branson 70.3, with its intense climbing and descending, was a bad choice. I’m gonna love Miami.

The finish was really disappointing. I came into transition, which was nowhere near the actual finish line, and no one knew what to do with me. So I wandered around for a few minutes with the Pros and tried to look really lean and wiry like them so people wouldn’t think I was that bad at T2. (Yes, the pros were done by this time.)

I finally figured out I needed to turn my chip in at the finish, and since it was right outside our hotel AND near the REV3 merchandise tent, I didn’t mind the hike. I turned in my chip but bypassed the finisher’s medals and shirts (on purpose), took the longest, hottest shower that you can only get with an endless supply of hot hotel water, called Moose to let him know I was alive, and then went back to buy my totally awesome REV3 jacket and wait for my friends to finish.

THE FALLOUT
Well, like I said, there’s nothing worse than no focus and showing up for a race ill-prepared. I’ve been bitch-slapped back to reality. The season is here, and I need to get my shit together! Fortunately, I have a later season, so I’ll be fine. Despite this circus, I feel like I’m back on track, training is going well and I’m starting to come around.

I had a great weekend with my friends, who turned out to be even cooler now that I know them a little better.

I’ll always love my first coach for last season, but I’m incredibly impressed with my new coach and excited to see what we can do together. Her knowledge about everything triathlon is mind boggling.

The folks at REV3 triathlon put on a top-notch event. I was stunned at how agreeable they were to change my registration to the Aquabike and then to make sure my correct results were up online after I told them I’d started in the wrong wave. It’s great to see such a happy, easy-going group of people working in triathlon!

THE STATS
Race weight: I’m an inflated 138.4. Zoikes! Time to whittle off 15 lbs.! Good lord.
Overall time: 2:05:07
1/1 in AG. Woo hoo!
Swim: 31:26 = 2:11/100 meters
T1: 3:38
Bike: 1:29:56 = 16.56 mph (2,381 feet of climbing on the bike)

Randomness

2011-04-25T06:06:00.005-10:00

I keep waiting for the perfect blog topic to pop up so I can have a brilliant post, but it's not really happening. So welcome to another "Random Thoughts" post by yours truly.

I can count on two hands the number of training sessions I've done in the past five weeks. But I can also finally sleep all night without waking myself up coughing. I haven't been achy/chilly or feverish in weeks. I gone cold turkey off the DayQuil. The mysterious rash on/around my lips and under my eye is gone, and so is the constant fatigue. I don't fall asleep sitting on the train, or in the car or eating lunch. I actually feel pretty good! I even voluntarily cleaned the house the other day, that's how fine I feel.

I've signed up for a race that I've been dying to do for years: Dances with Dirt! Ok, I still aspire to do the original one in Hell, Michigan. But that would require me to be in shape for a 50K or 50-mile trail race. I wisely signed up for the half marathon in Devil's Lake, Wisconsin and I cannot wait! I'm more excited about this race than any other on my horizon this year. I suspect once I hit the trails, there's a solid chance I will require an expensive mountain bike. You can never have too many expensive bikes.

I've been trying to sign up to volunteer for Ironman Madison now for days. The funny thing is, I'm 99.2% sure I don't ever want to do another Ironman, which is why most people volunteer - so they have first dibs to register for the race the next day. I want to volunteer to feel a part of the race...I think/thought. I've certainly had ample opportunity to change my mind. I will sign up for the 4th time in a week this Wednesday. Maybe.

I'm once again running a local half marathon (next weekend) without racing it. This is year two in a row of doing this. Last year I'd just run Nashville a week prior and picked the wrong venue to run my ass off at. This year, well, see the part above about taking five weeks off. So I'm running with a friend, and expect we'll have a wicked fun time but...my half marathon PR from 2006 stands. It may never fall.

Moose and I had dinner last night with a member of our host family for Branson. He lives here in Chicago, but his sister lives near Branson. He filled me in on what to expect in terms of weather and terrain: incredibly hot and amazingly hilly. I know it will be hot and hilly, but now I have a better idea of just how hot, humid, sweltering and Everest-like it is. Oh, and I'll keep my eyes open for June bugs on the bike. Apparently they fly blind and would have no qualms about flying into an open mouth. And they're big. Gross.

Sunday, May 1 is 20 weeks out from Branson. I'm training lightly this week, in anticipation of hopping into serious training next week. Fingers crossed my virus is all gone and I'm good to go!

NYC Women's Half Marathon - er, half of a half

2011-04-09T01:26:00.012-10:00

I've decided I'm getting all of my crap out of the way now so I will have smooth sailing later in the year training and racing at Branson. But it does feel like I'm wading through a lot of crap early on.

Last weekend was the second annual Girls Trip - with the focus on a 13.1 and all the fun that goes with, well, a girls trip anywhere. My friend M and I started it last year in Nashville, and had the weekend of our lives. In an attempt to not only continue the tradition, but heighten the experience, we decided on NYC for the second year. Target race: the More magazine NYC women's half.

In Times Square.

It was a Friday - Monday trip, staying in Midtown, being joined by M's cousin A, with great meals planned and some general touristy stuff, too. We booked the trip months ago. You know, non-refundable tix, non-refundable race entry fees. Which is why I felt I needed to go, despite being sick. (Again). I had a nasty cough, fever, achy, youhavenobusinessgoingtoNYC type cold. (I win for Best Worst Small Hotel Room Roommate with my snotty, coughy, sticky self!)

I've finally gone to the doctor. Really - race season is upon us, and I'm sick.to.death of getting sick. Looking back over the calendar since IMFL, I haven't gone more than 3 weeks without catching a cold or the flu. It has nothing to do with too much Diet Coke! I'm working on it, and hope to have it all figured out in the next two weeks.

I super tapered, as in I took 4 days completely off to try to get better. On the 4th day - the Thursday before the trip - I went out for an easy 3-miler and turned back at .5 in. My chest was on fire and I couldn't stop coughing. It didn't look good for the race.

Friday we traveled to NYC. It was 40's and rainy when we got there, so we did what any other tourists in NYC would do: we ignored the weather and ran around. We had packets to pick up! And we're in NY! Who goes to NY to hang in a hotel room?

I had no idea there are Zebras in Times Square!

Saturday was beautifully sunny, but windy and cold. We spent 2.5 hours waiting in line to see the Statue of Liberty. Nothing like a good airing out to do a body good, I always say! I was so cold that I broke down and bought a hoodie and a hat from a street vendor. I now have a NYPD hoodie to match my NYFD hoodie from an earlier trip to NYC (that also required emergency warm wear). Memo to anyone going to Battery Park: even if it's, like, August and 90 million degrees, take a hoodie with you! It's always incredibly windy and stupid cold! Always! Trust me!

On the ferry, I'm a frozen mess! I'm wearing no less than 17 layers. Like the new hatty?!

I woke up Sunday and knew I had to at least try to run my race. I thought, "it's only 13.1 miles, how bad can it be? I can run 13 miles with one leg." Besides, I had my super fast awesomely 80's Mizunos to tear the pavement up on.

I can't say enough good things about the race. I loved it. I loved the simpleness of it. Despite being smack dab in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, it was a remarkably small, intimate road race.

Two loops in Central Park. Seeded start corrals. All women. Pacers. Beautiful weather, perfect for running. Headphones allowed. Everything was lining up to a perfect race. I was excited when we got there, and headed for my corral. I'd had fantasies of PRing before I got sick, and even though I knew that wasn't a reality, I still wanted to run well.

The course was awesome. Central Park is quite a bit hillier than I'd expected, but they weren't very long hills, just steep. Unlike Nashville, which has miles-long hills, I didn't even mind these, they went by so quickly. And I had no idea we were even in a city! The loop is wooded and lined with rock formations. I seriously could've been in Maine or the middle of Vermont. It was incredibly cool.

Central Park, as seen from the Upper West Side. I assume we ran past the pond, but I don't remember it.

I knew almost immediately, though, that my race was in trouble. Which would win? My mind, or my chest, which felt like the hot, liquefied magma raging inside a volcano.

By Mile 4, I knew I wouldn't be finishing. I dropped at Mile 7 (57:35). There was no drama. It was very matter-of-fact. It's impossible to run when you can't breathe. It's impossible to run and cough. There wasn't even a question of limping in - I was out. Done. It's all over.

In 15 years of racing, it's my third-ever DNF. :-(

I know I'm beyond dumb for even lacing up my shoes that morning, but I had to try. I think I'd rather have tried - and know I tried - than to wonder forever.

It's been almost a week, and I'm still sick, although not nearly as bad. Which means I'll be toeing the line at tomorrow's Shamrock Shuffle!!!!

SLAP! I know, I know. This won't be a PR attempt, but the fulfillment of a superstition: every year that I run the Shuffle, I have a great racing year. Every year I sign up and don't race, or don't sign up at all, I have a bad season. So, see? I have to run.

More NYC Images:

It was windy! NOT a good day for a ride!

OK, I have to admit, seeing the Statue of Liberty is pretty cool. Literally and figuratively.

Yay! Verazzano Narrows Bridge! Start of the NYC Marathon! (Been there, done that. Sniff.) Too cool.

Warmest Body Suit on the Planet. It says so right there! Must. Get.

Oh, yeah, we went to the Met after the race. I'm not a huge museum goer, but this was cool enough to have its own guard, so I figured it must be important.

Sleep, eat and be merry

2011-03-24T09:06:00.007-10:00

Because she's cute.

A few weeks ago, I voluntarily participated in the Myers-Briggs test as part of an exercise at work. While I’m not at all shocked by my results, I am a little amused by the whole process and wonder when I’ll be offered the opportunity to consult with a psychic. For the record, my choice of psychics is John Edward. Edward, not Edwards. I have a lot of questions I'd love to ask my dead relatives.

So, those whacky test results. I’m an INFP, “The Idealist/Healer.” I’m also a Leo, was born in the year of the Rat and have a fondness for the number 13, despite being told my number is six, but those results weren’t part of this evaluation.

A few of the INFP’s traits:
Healers present a calm and serene face to the world, and can seem shy, even distant around others. Inside, they're anything but serene.

That’s a nice way of saying: “Hell, no, I’m not paying attention to you! If you could see what I’m seeing and hear what I’m hearing in my head, you wouldn’t pay attention to you either!”

Actually, that’s not totally true. Sometimes I am paying attention, but have very limited verbal skills to speak back to you. Now, if we were IMing, that’s another story.

INFPs do not like conflict, and go to great lengths to avoid it. If they must face it, they will always approach it from the perspective of their feelings. In conflict situations, INFPs place little importance on who is right and who is wrong.

This drives rational and logical Moose nuts. I often tell him if he could spend a day inside my head, he would explode, and I truly believe this.

INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don't give themselves enough credit.

Have you read my blog?!

INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper.

How I communicate:

Email: Best!
Text: Bring it!
IMing: I can go as fast as you can!
In person: Passable, if I know you or are not intimidated, and am not currently engaged in a better conversation in my head.
Phone: Shoot. Me. Now. Assuming, of course, I actually answer.

If I lost the ability to speak tomorrow, I’d be fine with it, I think.

When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things, therefore, a maid service is a good idea.

Ok, I added that last part. But it’s not like it's not true.

INFPs are flexible and laid-back, until one of their values is violated.

Apparently a lot of triathlon violates my values. hahaha! But I do agree that in most aspects of my world, I tend to be just that – laid back and flexible.

Overall, it's just just a test. Yes, most of it rings true, but I think it’s quite difficult to pin everyone down into this bucket or that bucket, and, like I said, I find it all a bit amusing.

In triathlon world, training is going great. It seems that by admitting my disappointment with Florida and realizing I need to sleep more, I've managed to "cool it" and appear to be back on track. Ironically, I'm eating more too, and that seems to be helping. Wow, what a novel concept? Sleep, eat and...be merry!

Happy running

2011-03-19T08:36:00.008-10:00

It's still too chilly to run barefoot through the grass, so instead I wore my Awesomely 80's Mizuno's and my favorite SmartWool socks:

And I headed to one of my favoritest running spots:

I ran 14 miles, and didn't see a single other runner. But I did see signs of spring:

For a lot of where I run, the Des Plaines River is on one side and the I&M Canal is on the other. Bodes well for those of us who enjoy running near water. Today I saw turtles sunning themselves (they bolted as soon as I stopped to try to take their photos, obviously vampire turtles), geese, squirrels and ducks. No deer, but I frequently see deer when I get there a little earlier:

Some people may look at this and see brown trees and dullness. I see freedom. No cell phones, or emails or stress. I see miles of effortless running to clear my head and erase the general insanity that accumulates without these runs. I've reset my crazy meter to zero, so I should be good to go again...for a while at least. :-)

No more angry monkeys

2011-03-16T11:44:00.005-10:00

There's trouble in paradise.

I think I might be experiencing what some folks refer to as the “Terrible Twos.” I know it’s typically used when describing the tantrums, meltdowns and budding defiance of toddlers, but lately it seems to apply to Yours Truly.

From the Interwebz: Characterized by toddlers being negative about most things and often saying 'no', the terrible twos may also find your toddler having frequent mood changes and temper tantrums.

I couldn’t help but make the comparison last night when I found myself raging down the street like a lunatic in the pitch black, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts in freezing temps. At that moment, the only difference between me and our two-year-old neighbor was my superior coordination and considerably longer stride length.

This is supposed to be fun, right?

The scary thing is I’ve been having more and more tantrums lately. This, from the "super happy carefree, Life Is Good, hey, look the sun’s out!" girl. What have I become? Who am I? (I’m being serious).

A few weeks ago, I was so angry during Master’s swim that I went on a profanity-laced rant in the locker room in front of God and everyone, and then stormed out. Again, the only real difference between me and a toddler at that point was I’m louder and know more swear words.

I need to figure it out pronto, or Moose is going to send me back and all my friends are going to “be busy.”

I think the root of my “sudden” Anger Management Issue is I didn’t nail Florida like I’d dreamed I would. I sound selfish and nuts, but I think it’s the underlying vein of my issue. I’ve tried to be all, “Hey, look at how awesome this went - I PRd in Florida, look at me, I’m a Rock Starrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” But internally I’m so incredibly pissed and disappointed by my race that it kills me. It’s like the hard work, the weight loss, the fanatical obsession with the Ironman was a big ass waste of my time.

When Your Best Isn’t Good Enough…right?

I’m entering Year Two of Trying to be a Better Triathlete (Y2TBBT) with that angry monkey on my back and it’s completely distracting me and derailing my efforts. Year One (last year) was awesome. I was full of hope and determination and the world of triathlon was mine to take!

Now, I'm angry, but a huge part of me still wants to be full of hope and determination. My toddler triathlete self doesn't know how to handle it. It’s like I have the good monkey/bad monkey on my shoulders, just like in cartoons, except I think the usual visual is an angel and a devil. I’m experiencing an epic struggle on every front:

Nutrition:
Angry Monkey: Why shouldn’t I have three more beers? Not like it matters, right? Pass the French fries!
(Y2TBBT) Monkey: How the fvck did I GAIN 2.8 pounds in a week? It’s going to take me three weeks to get it off! I’m trying to be faster, not slower. Stop it, Bad Monkey!

Swimming:
Angry Monkey: Why should I bust my ass and get up at 4:30 a.m. and do endless hours of drills on my own time if I’m going to be demoted at Master’s because the men beat me by 2 seconds?
(Y2TBBT) Monkey: You’re faster than you’ve ever been in your life. Stop worrying about what everyone else is or isn’t doing and swim yourself back into the fast lane if it’s that damned important to you. Really? Four years ago you couldn’t even swim 25 meters! Stop it, Bad Monkey!

Bike:
Angry Monkey: I’m bored and hey, it doesn’t matter anyway, right? Florida and all that. Soooo booooooooored.
(Y2TBBT) Monkey: You’re an idiot.

Running:
Angry Monkey has a field day with my running mindset and reminds me I’m a slow runner and always will be. Meanwhile, (Y2TBBT) Monkey has no comeback, which is how I found myself running down the middle of the street last night, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts in freezing temps after a failed speed work on the TM.

I have no idea how to deal with all of this other than writing about it and maybe sorting it out that way. Either that, or sign up for another Ironman – which, to be honest, is the last thing I need/want to do.

So, if anyone has any tips on how to regain your mojo and happy self after a major disappointment, let me know. I realize it’s my funk to get out of, and hope I snap out of this nonsense sooner rather than later because this is really no fun at all, and it's really messing up year #2!

Whole 'Nutha Level

2011-02-28T15:38:00.007-10:00

I have new numbers. I have lots of new numbers, but the ones I’m talking about now include science-y stuff and…uh, things like that.

My metamorphosis from a carefree, non-committed and somewhat slippery-to-pin-down yogger to an insane, obsessed, incredibly Type A+ triathlete is nearly complete.

Five years ago, we joined the new gym down the road, and that’s when I took my first spin class, and sort of learned about heart rate and zones and all of that.

I self-determined my heart rate training zones based on some gym formula, and called it “good.” And I’ve used those numbers for my zones since, except -- true to my non-numbers core, I pretty much forgot all the numbers but one, which was 145. Lower than that on a run = great; higher than that = woah, Tigger, slow down!

I’ve been running with that number in my head ever since -- when I actually bother to put my HR strap on. (I still don’t wear it nearly as often as I probably should.)

Well, I have new numbers.

I did a lactate threshold test last week with my coach and, well, if numbers don’t lie, they also tell a really good story. Mine can be summed up in one word: SLACKER!

I could feel my coach scheming new ways to kill me as she monitored the data from my test. Oh, yes, you’ve definitely got some new numbers to work with!

Gulp.

I do, indeed. Very big numbers. Fancy, fast numbers. Shockingly so.

My immediate response when I got the new HR zones – was to spit beer out my nose and laugh, which hurt as bad as it sounds.

And then I thought, “no friggin’ way!”

I psyched myself out on Saturday’s long run with my new zones, and used every excuse in the book:

I can’t run this fast. I think somehow I messed up the test. Coach is insane. I don’t run this fast or hard. I’m going to die. I need to slow down. I run slower on the treadmill, anyway. I.Can’t.Do.This.

I basically weinied out on the run. I’ll admit it. I sucked, my run sucked.

Sunday, I had a 1:45 trainer ride with Coach and crew. Now, this is my second year of these suffer fests. They are stupid hard. Always have been. And I’ve always thought I was working “as hard as I could.”

Well, not according to my new numbers. :-)

So, I went with it yesterday. About 1/3 into the workout, I decided to stop listening to the loud voices telling me I’d never be able to ride in my new zones, and….rode in my new zones.

I went through 4 towels and 72 ounces of water. On my first jaunt up the stairs at home to put my bike away and take a shower, I actually had to sit down at the top of the stairs because my legs were on fire. Not tired- on fire.

But, I also did it. I think I can do this, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to…a whole ‘nutha level. Or die trying.

I’m the pool’s bitch/anatomy of a flip turn

2011-02-20T15:55:00.007-10:00

Why the sudden fascination with flip turns? Because I still, ah, can’t…exactly…do…one.

Not yet.

But I want to learn, badly. All the ~~fast~~ cool kids do them. And, I’m running out of other things to do in the pool, since it’s become quite obvious I’m a one trick pony when it comes to strokes.

Two weeks ago or so, we had a pop quiz sprung on us at Master’s. Because, you know, getting up at the butt crack of dawn to prance around mostly nekkid prior to getting our asses kicked in the pool isn’t enough. Oh, no, we had to show off our flip turns.

I immediately broke into a cold sweat, despite the tropical pool deck.

My “I just learned to swim last year” excuse doesn’t really work anymore now that I’ve now been swimming for 4.5 years and cart around more pool tools than a toddler.

Pool ~~tools~~ toys
Have nothing to do with flip turns but aren’t they fun?!

I tried to explain to my lane mates and coach just how sucky I am, and no one believed me. So I lurked behind everyone, hoping they’d forget that I hadn’t already gone. They didn’t.

Stunned silence followed by gales of laughter met my ears as I emerged from my attempt.

I suck. I really, really do. I’m beyond awful.

I looked around, hoping someone – anyone – was at least as bad as me, and nope, I hold the distinction of being The Worst. Everyone else might as well be members of The Amazing Flip Turns Family of Euroslavia.

My flip turn is more of flip…flop.

If I’m lucky, I brush the wall ever-so-faintly with the tip of my big toe, but more times than not, I don’t get within several feet of it. Or I end up in another lane completely. Or I end up facing the same wall I allegedly turned off of. And sometimes the lane line gets involved. But mainly I do some weird twisty boa constrictor turn that is as useless as it is awkward.

You get the idea. It’s not pretty.

I’ve been working hard at learning how to do these on my own time, sans the peanut gallery. To be honest, I’m quite embarrassed at how bad I am. So I’ve been sneaking over to my LTF pool after family hours to work on my “form.”

Moose in my pirate cap. He has almost as much hair as I do now, so it was time. And he sort of looks like a pirate, especially in his puffy shirt, which he is *not* wearing at this moment.

I made Moose go with me tonight, and he got quite a show. For the first 30 minutes, my flip turns were nearly flawless. In fact, they were so good that I was working on perfecting my turns with speed and grace, between giving Moose all my awesome flip turns tips.

LOOK! YOU CAN SEE FEET! WHICH IS PROOF ON FILM THAT I DID INDEED DO A FLIP TURN!!! (And then it all went in the crapper again.)

And then, for no apparent reason, my brain shifted back to ‘reset’ and it was as if I’d never done a single good one. Ever.

Back to flops.

Which left Moose in hysterics and me steaming.

I know I’ll get it. I have to, it’s the next chapter in my swimming novel, but until then, I’m (once again) the pool’s bitch.

Snow candy and cool shoes

2011-02-14T17:10:00.008-10:00

One of the main reasons I write this blog is so I have a record of what I was thinking at various points of my training and racing. That way, when I go off the deep end, like I have the past two weeks, I can revisit my thoughts and yank myself back to sanity.

I write for other reasons, too. Like in case my Mom miraculously visits once from the 71,000 links I've sent her. And, I enjoy writing about my triathlon life, and keeping up on what some of my other favorite bloggers are up to (see my list of Woodstocks).

I've had a shitty couple of weeks, but in the end it's all good. I'm choosing to look at it as a positive, and a growth opportunity.

Because, really that's all they were - two bad weeks that ultimately ended up with me well-rested and maybe a little more self-aware.

Looking back, I always go into a bit of a funk post-Ironman, and I always seem to forget this and be amazed that I'm in a post-race slump. I'm right on par with, well, with me.

I have no reason to be, though, and this time I don't need to register for another Ironman to pull myself out of the funk, as I have in years past. The mere awareness that I'm in a funk seems to be enough to switch my light back on this time. Maybe there is wisdom with experience.

Rereading snippets of my blog:
2006: reminds me of the newbie excitement I had for all things triathlon, and my sheer newness to swimming
2007: reminds me what it's like to be more scared, and more determined, than I ever thought possible
2008: reminds me that I get bored with too much repetition
2009: reminds me that I'm so very lucky to be alive, and healthy
2010: reminds me that I can train my ass off and it's OK to want to be better

I can't wait to see what 2011 reminds me of.

In fun news, I participated in my tri club's "Smart Heart Fun Run" this weekend. I discovered an entire trail system of wooded, single-track running paths! I'm in heaven. I simply cannot wait to go back! It was beautiful, and I laughed my ass off with all of my friends for 90 minutes as we traipsed through the woods in two feet of snow searching for candy hearts. (Hey, we've been on forced indoor recess for way too long)!

Being the shoe whore that I am, I ordered even more new shoes! (It's official: I can't stand my Kinvaras). These guys are so friggin' HOT that I pre-ordered them. I'm so excited about the color that I may wear them 24/7. I'm soooo excited about the color that I'll wear them with my tri kit even though they clash severely. That's how awesome they are!

I'm thisclose to learning flip turns. After a truly comical display of an incredible inability to perform a single flip turn at last week's master's class, I sat myself down in front of goswim.com videos, watched their five-step process for several hours on my laptop, then went to the pool and promptly made myself learn. OK, "promptly" may be a stretch, but when left the pool last night, I could do flip turns!

New favorite Web site

2011-02-06T14:23:00.006-10:00

I stumbled across the funniest Web site evar last night, specifically the Comics section.

And, as someone who recently started working from home, this comic leaves me doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down my face. My two favorite sections are the "Degradation of Social Skills" and the "Distractions." But "Loss of Regimen" is funny, too.

If you happen upon me at some point when I'm out in public, and I can't form a proper sentence, or talk like I'm five, now you know why. I've never been one to talk much anyway. Remove me from society several days a week and I'm lucky if I remember how to speak all.

Swimapoolooza race report aka holy crap I swam a long way!

2011-01-30T15:08:00.005-10:00

It wasn't really a race. More of, uhm, a really, really, really long swim class.

I was still very nervous. I didn't sleep at all last night -- I essentially stared at my clock, the wall, the ceiling, the clock again, repeat a zillion times -- before finally giving in and getting up an hour early to stare at the clock, the wall, my laptop, my BlackBerry and the clock.

As I explained to a friend, I don't consider myself a strong swimmer, and it's not like running, where if you stop, you just get a slower time. Ah, as you're all aware, if you stop swimming you...well, you die.

Signing up to swim almost twice the distance of an Ironman swim isn't something I'd ever do on my own. My coach seems to ~~think~~ know things I don't. So, I found myself registered to swim 75 yards 100 times in 100 seconds per set. 4.26 miles when it was all said and done. Gulp. No wetsuit.

Fortunately, I ended up in a lane with four other swimmers, one of whom is a lane mate during my regular master's swim. Sweet! We swim the exact same pace, and I was crazy glad we were swimming together.

And then there was a Russian in our lane, and before you go all PC on me and ask me why I assumed he was Russian, he was wearing the Russian flag on his swim cap and told me he was from Russia. His name was Alex, but I immediately nicknamed him Phelps because I think he *may* have been the fastest swimmer in the entire pool. Cool, he's leading!.

My lane was the third from the right of the picture. That tiny black dot is my head. Notice the mile difference between my black dot and the splash at the top of the lane/pic that is Phelps. Photo courtesy of Waddler and Tri Smart Coaching.

I was able to draft off Phelps for about two seconds each set, but then was left to lead the remaining 74 yards.

I have to be honest, I didn't feel great starting out. I had a hard time getting into a rhythm and really needed to settle down. I remember thinking on lap 15 that there was no friggin' way I was going to be able to finish 100 of these. I was annoyed and angry at my coach for even suggesting I do this.

I'm not a swimmer, WTF am I doing?!

I chilled out and started chatting with my lane mates, who were all awesome. There's a definite bonding factor to being in the same hellish situation with others.

Since we were on a very regimented schedule this is an idea of how our conversations went:

"Where did you get your swim cap?"

"I got it at Kiefer."

"Did you hear..."

Beeeeeep! Swim, swim, swim

"...that Keifer closed?"

"Get out! Hey, only 67 to go!"

Beeeeeep! Swim, swim, swim.

"I don't think my Kiefer closed. Did they all close?"

"The one in Downer's Grove..."

Beeeeeep! Swim, swim, swim

"...closed."

"Oh, yeah, you know I heard my Kiefer closed too! It's the one..."

Beeeeep! Swim, swim, swim.

"....in Orland."

"That sucks!"

"Hey, only 63 to go!"

You get the idea.

So, between conversations and zoning out, I made it through the first 50 and the break. My back was so sore when I got out of the pool, my fingers and toes were tingling. (From pushing off the wall and my disastrous wall turns).

But, I'd made it halfway and there's no way I was going to quit, although I did joke with a friend that she should drop a Baby Ruth in the pool to end the madness early.

We started the second 50, and my buddy started leading, which meant I was drafting for the first time all day. (Phelps was still in our lane and still burning through his sets at a ridiculous pace).

Oh my! What a difference drafting makes! Oh, yeah, this is niiiiiiiccceeee. I could do this all day!

We traded the lead off and on, but the drafting breaks made all the difference, and we were knocking the reps out, bam, bam, bam! I couldn't believe how great I felt -- considerably stronger and better than the entire first 50.

And with each one, we were one closer to the finish. Phelps cheered us in each lap and would slap the water and yell, "14!" before tearing off again.

I swam the first 87 reps between 1:09 and 1:12 each. The last 13, I made an effort to faster, and brought them all in between 1:07 and 1:09! I'm going with a 1:12 average, which is roughly the equivalent of 1:48 per 100m. It's not lightening fast, but the fact that I was able to hold that for 100 75's and get faster at the end really makes me smile.

Maybe I am a swimmer after all!

A nice back shot of everyone in my lane. I'm the one adjusting the black dot that is my cap. Phelps is to my right, lane buddy is to my left and the other two swimmers in my lane are the sweetest two women on the planet. We had a lot of fun. Again, photo courtesy of Waddler and Tri Smart Coaching.

All the sciencey geeky numbers. (You can stop reading now if you'd like, it gets really dry, but I like to refer back to this kind of info later).

Race weight: 135.4 (What? It's the off season. And I'm lifting again).

Pre-race nutrition: Homemade egg sammich with egg, english muffin and 2% slice of cheese

Race nutrition: I'm trying something new in lieu of Perpetuem. Inspired by Crackhea d, who swims way more than this weekly, I brought 342 calories of Infinit, plus 20 oz. of water. My plan was to make that last the entire swim, but I sucked that baby down by the half-way point.

Half time: I had 200 calories' worth of Clif Blocks and 2 Fig Newtons that I bummed of another swimmer.

Second half: I filled my 24 oz. water bottle up with 1/2 water and 1/2 Gatorade. I don't know if it was regular blend or Endurance blend, thus the 1/2 mix. I've previously had stomach problems with Gatorade. I drank most of it and had my bottle refilled, of which I had probably 1/2 of my now third bottle of nutrition.

Estimated total calories: ~700 during the swim. Minor stomach distress in last ten or so, but that's also when I started pushing it.

Distance: 7500 yards/4.26 miles.

I averaged 1:12/75 yards, which by my calculations, comes out to approximately 1:48/100 meters. Swim time 2:03

The Yoga Princess

2011-01-27T12:10:00.006-10:00

I have to get back to yoga.

Mandatory. Immediate. Non-negotiable.

The biggest difference I've noticed so far between last year's training and this year's training is the complete lack of yoga during my week. Yoga was the one time I was guaranteed to get a good stretch in, among all the other benefits. I joke that I would hobble into class a 90-year-old woman and float out a spry, young(ish) triathlete.

My new job has wreaked havoc on my routine -- I can no longer make the Monday morning class that I counted on before (or any morning class), and to be honest, I've been lazy about finding a new time that will work. I fell out of practice before I left my previous job - at the height of Ironman training, it slid off my schedule, and it hasn't reappeared.

Holy stiffness, Tin Man!

There are a million yoga classes I could take, and I've sampled them all. But, naturally, not just any class will do. I'm definitely the equivalent of a yoga princess. Or Goldilocks. Take your pick.

I'm not interested in completely baking myself in Bikram; on the flip side, I get absolutely nothing out of a mass yoga class at the local LTF, where it's typically freezing ass cold in their space. (How can I get a good yoga on wearing a hoodie and mittens? How, I ask)?

No, I have to go to the studio that's juuuuuusssst righhhhttttt.

They have ample classes, so it really shouldn't be that hard to find one that fits into my schedule. It's not like I'm the President or anything. :-)

I've continued working with my coach even though the Ironman is over, and we've been back on track now for 4-5 weeks.

(FTR, she's scheduled yoga several times on my calendar). The challenge this year is to figure out how to improve over last year's incredible season. I'm sure she has that covered. I do what she says, I magically get better. I love it!

I've put a lot of added pressure on myself this year to get faster, especially swimming and running. As a result, I'm training a lot more...intensely. For swimming, that means attending a new master's class and worrying less about volume and more about technique. I'm swimming approximately 2/3 the volume I swam last year, but we do more drills and focus more on form than I ever thought possible! And it's working.

But running. My god. Running fast is so hard. It hurts while doing it and it continues to hurt long after I'm done.

I guess hurt is the wrong word. It's incredibly uncomfortable to work so hard running, that's for sure. And afterward, I am one stiff girl. And to make it worse, I usually I hop in the shower and then rush off to work without much of a stretch or cool down.

This is where yoga comes into play. Forget all the mental benefits (which are golden), physically I can't keep this up without it!

So I'm off to grab my mat off its post in the garage and toss it in the washer so it's ready to go, and dig out my yoga gear once again.

Om, out!

Game On! (For reals this time. I double-pinky swear. Mmmmkay)?

2011-01-24T08:29:00.005-10:00

The sky isn't falling. Moose isn't chopping his legs off (yet) and my "A" race is back on!

Wanna see if we can jack this on/off, will she/won't she to a new record?! I do not. Indecisiveness drives me batshit crazy.

Moose saw the orthopedic doctor dude today, and much to my (delighted) surprise -- he merely needs a scope. As in, he may not even be on crutches. Of course the next stop on that ride is total knee replacement and the end of all forms of racing, but we're not talking about that right this second.

Woo hooooooooo!

Branson is back, with the goal of a 2012 70.3 WC slot in Vegas.

What I'm really up to

2011-01-23T15:12:00.006-10:00

Well, for starters, I'm dinking around with the look of my blog. I don't know if I'll keep the current look or toss it for something I like better, guess ya'll will have to check back to see. Once I pick the final look, I'll update the masthead to match. It drives me nuts in its current state.

Sooooooooo... a month ago I started a new job. I try not to talk about work on here, so I won't say much other than to say I'm a lot happier than I've been in years. I didn't realize how toxic my last work environment was. I knew it was bad. Jaws would drop if I told you some of my stories.

Moose said to me two weeks ago, "wow, it's so nice to have my goofy, happy wife back. It's been a long time."

I'm laughing again, so that's cool. It feels good to laugh.

I have no idea what I'm doing this year. I know - the earth just jolted for a split second.

What about all that chest-beating and defiance with Branson?

Well, it's not off the table, but it's not on the table, either.

Not because Moose doesn't think I can do, it or some correspondingly childish reaction on my part, but my reasons do involve Moose. Tomorrow he sees his orthopedic surgeon. Again. He has an appointment for X-rays, an MRI and then the consult with the doctor.

He has one of the best surgeons in the world.

In 1999, at the ridiculously young age of 31, Moose was a test candidate for an experimental (at the time) surgery involving cartilage replacement in knees. Between 20 years of playing elite-level basketball and an unfortunate dose of bad genetics, his knees were shot.

Yeah, so little-known-fact: Moose is sort of a rock star in the orthopedic world. Like, he's been written about in medical journals and documented in videos and stuff. They did a surgery, took out some of his cartilage, sent it off to a lab to replicate it and then transplanted it back in his knee during a second, much more invasive surgery.

His recovery took several years. He gained weight and, at one point, weighed 220 lbs. (He's 190 in the offseason.) His days as a basketball player were over, but once he recovered, he started running, and then biking and then triathlon. Since then, he's run a 3:22 marathon, completed three Ironman triathlons and generally kicked athletic ass.

He hurts every day, though. Some days lately, he can barely walk - the other knee is barking for some TLC. He doesn't mention it often. He's not one to whimper. But it's pretty obvious.

So, tomorrow we find out what's on his slate for the year.

I'm predicting one helluva serious surgery (another transplant), and absolutely no training or racing.

At least we'll know, but it's like a dark cloud hanging over our heads. Well, his way more than mine.

But it does impact me somewhat, because we do everything together. No, we're not the needy, clingy couple, but we enjoy heading out together on a 105-mile bike. (We never run together). More times that not, we do the same races, and thus my inability to make any sort of a decision.

I am signed up for the NYC women's half marathon in April, but I'm only running it for fun. I'm going with a friend (whom I went to Nashville with last year) and we'll have a great time.

I'm signed up for another half, locally, and a few other short races, but so far...no tri's.

Yeah, I'll do tri's. I have to. For god's sake, I have a tri coach, I should, you know, do a least one tri. :-) I just don't know which one(s) yet.

One thing we can do together, is go diving, so a warm, salty ocean trip is on the horizon. Again, I can't book anything yet, but it's so happening. I can't wait.

Baby, Baby, Baby

2011-01-16T14:37:00.005-10:00

Like RBR, I, too, have baby news that I've been holding to close to the vest:
My bestest running buddy is knocked up!

I'll refer to her as "J." We met in 2004 at the Glen Ellyn Runners, training for one of our many Chicago marathons, and we've been tight ever since. That was the funnest training summer of my life. To date, nothing has compared. There were three of us: me, "J" and "N". We ran in the same pace group and formed a solid friendship. I remember belting out 80's songs and laughing so hard we had to stop running - every run. It was magical.

"J" and I live really close to one another, and over the years, we've run thousands of miles and countless hours together. She knows me better than anyone in the world, except for Moose.

She's gold. I love her.

I almost always drag her to crazy events, like the time we ran a cross country race and ended up wading through knee deep horse shit and cutting our shoes off they were so frozen. We used a gift card afterward to eat at a 5-star restaurant. We burst into tears of laughter when the waitress sniffed and then asked if we'd, "been out sledding with our children." J is quite girly compared to my viking self, and I was sure she'd never forgive me for that race.

We've been nearly struck by lightning, we've run through a prairie fire, we ran Reach the Beach together, we've gotten lost on runs more times than I care to count; we've seen each other fall and get bloody knees; we've been scared by creepy dudes, we've shared water and gu and shirts. We talk nonstop and she's offered me invaluable advice on my life in general. I hope I've done the same.

We're planning a baby shower! I've only been to two ever in my entire life, so I have a big learning curve -- but it's really fun so far. I hope I can pull of a nice event and she has a great day to remember for life.

I'm not really into babies, but I really into planning the Best Damn Baby Shower Evar. I've promised her I won't go overboard (Puh-leeze, as if...hahahahha!). There won't be any tattoo artists on site, or clowns or even dogs. I won't wrap her house in pink paper or make everyone play embarrassing games.

And I've vowed to not incorporate one shred of triathlon. :-)

Off the deep end

2011-01-11T13:53:00.003-10:00

Now I’ve done it. I’ve registered for something called “Swimapoolooza.” Emphasis on: swim.

(maniacal laughter)

Really?

(wipe tears of maniacal laughter away)

What is wrong with me?

I’m hoping the rest of the word: “apoolooza” means it will be a pool part-ay! You know, with blow up rafts and fake dolphins and a BBQ pit or something on deck.

No, butreally. I registered for a swim “challenge” called Swimapoolooza. I showed a modicum of restraint by signing up for the 75 x 100 yards choice, as opposed to the certifiably insane 100 x 100 choice.

I kind of didn’t have a choice on that, though. By default I’m too slow to do the 100’s option. So 75’s it is.

OK, I totally suck at math, but if my figurin’ is correct, that’s like 7500 yards of swimming. This means nothing to me because I don’t think in yards. I’m not in the NFL. I think in miles.

Ahem.

4.2 miles.

What a pretty number! It mirrors 2.4. I like. It doesn’t have 1’s or 3’s in it, but I still get a good vibe from it. (It’s green and red, btw).

Did I mention it’s at the end of the month, too? I have less than 3 weeks to get ready to swim almost twice the distance of anything I’ve ever swam before.

Here’s what I’m doing to prepare:

*I filled out the application and sent my monies in

*I’m reading some really good books on my Kindle. One is called, The Imperfectionists. I love it on the title alone. And no, it has nothing to do with swimming, other than the title. Works for me.

*I’m going through my zillion Speedos to determine which one will suck the least in terms of chaffing. (I get rub spots over my rib cage, of all places). I’m also gonna pick one that hopefully won’t disintegrate during the swim. That would suck.

*I’ll probably buy some new goggles

*I made sure my big beach towel is clean and sufficiently fluffy

Oh, yeah. I’m swimming too, but nothing more than I normally swim, which is between 4500-5K a week. I’m gonna wing it, baby! Smile and wave!

And one more thing – I’m thinking of switching back to blonde hair, which is my natural color. I like it brown – it matches Lucy, and I’m all about looking like my dog – but it fades so much in six weeks that my hair stylist throws a tantrum every time I go in. Imagine the drama after a 3-hour adventure in chlorine?! Maybe I’ll work with her, not against her.

This will be fun. I’ll do my best and see how far I get, reserving the right to stop at such point that I can no longer lift my arms above my head.

What are the odds?

2011-01-07T07:05:00.001-10:00

Remember when you were a kid and you'd relentlessly taunt your sibling(s)? That’s the way it was for me and my brothers, especially with my twin brother. We naturally spent a lot of time together, which meant we tormented each other quite a bit. We wrestled, stalked, ambushed and attacked one another for years. (Even as adults, and despite the fact we live thousands of miles apart, it wouldn’t surprise me to be Ninja’d by him at any moment. Likewise, if, against all odds I saw him walking down the street in Chicago, I’d be tempted to stalk him and grab him in a neck hold at an opportune time).

But as much as we argued and fought, we became a unified front immediately if anyone outside our world threatened us. That's just the way it is with kids. I think everyone's like that. You reserve the right to beat the crap out of one another, but if a stranger steps in, woah! New game, new rules, tag team up and all that. Right?

Well, the same thing goes with being told I can’t do something. It’s fine if I think I can’t do something – that’s my prerogative – but when someone else doesn’t have confidence in me, then I circle my wagon of one, get defensive and stubbornly vow to prove them wrong.

Case in point: Branson 70.3.

To be perfectly honest, Branson wasn’t on my radar at all before my coach brought it up. Branson? Who does Branson? Isn’t that, like, well, in Branson? When I think Branson, I think an overindulgence of all things red, white and blue, a dose of Osmond family fun and decorative lawn art carved out of wood and highly glossed. I don’t think 70.3.

But the fact that she recommended it and even went so far as to say I might (gasp) actually race well in Branson got me interested, and then excited, and then scared and finally defiant.

Branson is only a year old, but in its short, short existence, it’s created quite the buzz among tri geeks. It’s, ah, how do you say…got a reputation for being difficult. Specifically, hilly. Like mountains hilly.

And here’s my quirk: I don’t mind going uphill. I will spin uphill all.day.long.

It’s the downhill that wakes me up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

I’m afraid of crashing on a descent, so much so that I’ve been known to actually walk down hills. I’m that big of a basketcase.

But is that going to stop me? Remember the part I said earlier about being stubborn and defensive? That part? Yeah, well my stubborn, defensive self mentally decided I’m doing Branson if it kills me, immediately after my logical, calm saner half Moose pointed out that I’d have to race downhill as hard as I would uphill, and even went so far as to declare, “he didn’t think Branson was a good idea, given my deathly fear of going down hills.”

Snort.

Well.

Huh.

I mean, yeah, he has a point (a good one) but, but…I’ll be damned if I’m going to let something like 6,000 feet of climbing (and descending) stop me from attempting to terrorize myself in new and fun ways!

Here’s how I look at it: I could go race one of the various local, flat, safe 70.3’s in my area and not worry about how many pieces my helmet might crack into if I biff it big time. Sure, yeah, I could totally do that, and no one would care, and I’d be fine and safe and ain’t that grand.

But I’m not going to play it safe. I mean, really, what are the odds?

I’m signing up for Branson, and I’m not signing up for it to be a “fun, goof off” race. No, I’m signing up with the intent of learning to ride my damn bike down hills and actually race as hard as I can.

So, anyone have any downhill bike handling tips?! Or a recommended sports therapist?

2010 ROCKED!

2010-12-30T16:51:00.014-10:00

At our friends' Josie and CD's wedding in June. The "good" pictures, for the Parents, before we got smashed and started dancing on tables and playing with lawn art. Hi guys!

It’s the end of the year, and everyone’s drunk on holiday spirit, sugar cookies and an overabundance of general goofing off. We’re also reflecting on the 365 days that have led up to this year’s binge of holiday spirit, sugar cookies and general goofing off. You can’t miss the photo collages on news sites, or the lists on newscast after newscast. And I’m no exception, but damn it, I actually have something to write about this year!

THE TRAINING
32.4 hours of yoga and core/weights.
Considering that the final 12 weeks or so leading up to the Ironman my toes didn’t touch my yoga mat once and the only lifting I did was to rack my bike, that’s pretty good in my book.

Goal for 2011: to continue lifting until 4 weeks out from my goal race (Branson 70.3)

Ahem. I swam 128 miles. 128 miles!!! I know for some of you, that’s child’s play, but daaaaaamn. I’m so proud of this!

Goal for 2011: to get faster in the water. I’ve shaved a huge chunk of time off my swimming this year, so I’ll do what I need to continue this arc of success, to be determined by my rockin' coach, who has no problem finding this's and that's that I need to fix.

I biked a lot more, too, but much of it was on my trainer. I’ve never worked so hard. On more than one occasion I was *positive* I was going to drop dead during a Z5 bike workout. I thought I knew what hard work on the bike was. I had no idea.

So, I biked 171 hours. If I use an average of 17 mph, which is what I think is a fair number, this averages out to 2,917 miles. I’m rounding up to 3,000 miles for conversations. Again, it’s not super high mileage, but it’s more than I’ve ever ridden, and the quality of those rides was by far superb to anything I’ve done previously.

I ran 620 miles. Meh. I’m not as happy about my running as I probably should be. Why? I dunno. I think maybe because I worked really hard on all three disciplines, and I’ve made little improvement running, especially in comparison to the other two. I didn’t PR in a single running race, although if you look at my tri times, all of my tri runs did show improvement. (And I did start knocking out 7:30/min. miles on my midweek long runs in the months leading up to IMFL, so there’s that).

Goal for 2011: See some damn improvement in my running!

Track workout in Ohio over Fourth of July weekend.

BODY COMP
I don’t know what my body fat% was at the beginning of the year – I have a Tanita scale and it said 33%, but then I switched to athlete mode and it dropped overnight to around 26%, so of course I kept it on athlete mode. Before IMFL it said I was down to 17.3%.

The lowest I ever got on the scale was 123, but that was immediately after we got home from IMFL. I hovered around 125 for much of the summer before gaining about three pounds leading up to the Ironman.

Overall, I’m saying I lost 45 lbs. for the year! I was a soft 172 in August of 2009, so this is (er, I was) huge. The surprising fact of this is, my normal adult weight has always been around 130 (until I started doing Ironmans, go figure), so the 172 was the freak weight, not the weight loss. And I still fully blame modern medicine and the blood clot for the weight gain. Never again.

RACES
*My best race memory of the year has to be Steelhead 70.3. My god, I blew my super secret time goal out of the water with a 5:31! I’ve never felt so incredibly awesome during a race. I want it again. I crave that feeling of complete control and my body responding to everything I ask it to do.

*I shocked myself, and the world, by placing 2^nd in my AG at the Crystal Lake 2-mile OW swim. Last year, I was DFL (dead f—cking last) in my age group!

*I placed 3^rd in my AG at my first-ever Oly tri (Evergreen) on what had to be the hottest temps I’ve ever raced in, and ended up qualifying for USAT AG Nationals! (I had no idea what that even meant at the time, but the T-shirt was cool and now that I *know* what I qualified for, it makes me smile)!

*Won my AG at Petoskey. Yes, it was a small field. There were only 4 of us, but that was the toughest race all year – the hills were outrageous – and I worked my ass off. I still have the bottle of wine that I won.

After Rev3!

*Rev3 – I was in the top 10 in my AG (9^th), despite a rather comical bike mechanical and another hilly course, and ended up getting race wheels as a result of doing so well! (Moose realized I’m finally serious. Go me!)

*And, of course, Ironman Florida. :-)

I managed all of this, of course, with the constant love and support from Moose. If 2010 was the year of my life, it probably goes down as one of his worst years, and yet he's been unwavering in his belief in me. I love this boy.

Satisfied, yet hungry

2010-12-12T10:19:00.005-10:00

I'm training again! Yay! And thrilled. I just snuck a look at my Training Peaks, and the entire week is filled in by Coach. I'm downright giddy. It's been five weeks since IMFL, and I haven't been doing anything structured, by design.

It's been a nice break. I've gotten my fill of forbidden foods and overdosed on sleeping, and the fire is back roaring in my heart. So, yeah, I'm fine with being out of control for a month, because it worked.

I'd like to say I've been "easing" into it, but...I sorta jumped running-clad feet first back into, well, running this week. I've been a running fool. The mileage doesn't confirm it, but my aching knees do. I guess this is what it feels like to be getting old, or at least to have 25 years of running on these joints.

Oh, and before I forget, I'm sort of "meh" on the Saucony Kinvara's. I don't love them like I do my DS Trainers. I get that they're a minimalist running shoe, but so are the Asics. I don't like the sole, primarily. It seems plastic-y and hard. I've only worn them on the treadmill, though. Maybe I'll like them more on roads.

Our Tri Club had our annual dinner last week, and I got this wicked cool plaque for "Most Improved." How cool is that? I never ~~win~~ won anything, ever, and especially not for something like training my ass off.

Looking back on 2010, man, it was stunningly awesome beyond my wildest dreams, and I learned a ton about myself. I'm not afraid to want to be really good at triathlon - or work, or running or whatever, anymore.

I wouldn't give 2009 back, because somewhere in that dark year, I found myself.

The kicker is, I didn't even know I was lost.

So, as I plan for 2011 and what I want, I'm not afraid to admit that I have some pretty lofty goals. I want to PR running, as in 1:40 or faster on the 1/2 and a BQ (3:45) on the marathon. I'm also eyeballing a qualifying run for the 70.3 World Championships, especially now that they're in Vegas.

A new dream of mine is to race 70.3 WC for my mom - who lives outside Las Vegas in Northern Arizona. This goal won't be easy, and I suspect it may take a couple of years to get there, but I'm not afraid to admit I want it, and to try. :-)

Random stew

2010-12-02T10:47:00.006-10:00

Hello there. Yes, I’m around, and in case you were worried about my goings-on, I’ve found plenty of things to fully occupy my time post-Ironman. I’m building pyramids, just not sports-related ones.

I’ve been attempting to run. It’s funny, ‘cause in my head I just ran (I use the term loosely) a marathon, so an hour run should be a piece of cake…right?

My legs aren’t cooperating. They are stiff and jerky. Gone is my effortless stride. I run like I’m made of lumber. I'm churning out...(wait for it)...3 mile jaunts at a time, and it's not feeling good.

To cope, I did what any downward-spiraling athlete would do: I bought new shoes. Light, blazing fast new shoes.

How fast do these babies look?!

I’m a goal-oriented person, and I haven’t decided on a single race for next year, let alone an “A” race or two. I definitely have ideas on what I’d like to achieve, but like I said, I’m busy with other pyramids in my life, and will need to figure out a 2011 racing schedule a little later than I'd like.

I’m back on my off-season diet, with the intent to whittle off more fat and become leaner and lighter. I did go “crazy go nuts” for about 3 weeks (as predicted) and ate like a jerk, but much to my delight/surprise/glee, I really haven’t gained much weight.

I do know without a doubt that I want to be “as fast as possible” and I think that lighter is (usually) better. I’d like to aim for 120 lbs., for next year's racing season, but we’ll see. I’d be lighter than I’ve been since I was about 13 (not including the disordered years). The last thing I want to do is get slower because I’m not eating enough, but I think I’m learning about nutrition and what I need, and hopefully I can fine-tune things this winter.

The most shocking and saddest change is my disinterest in beer. I whined and carried on for the six weeks leading up to my race about cutting out all alcohol, particularly my beloved beer, and now that it’s “OK” again – I have little interest in it.

(Shocker!)

What the hell is wrong with me?

I have no idea why. I even chilled two bottles of wine, to see if I prefer that. So far, no dice. Huh.

Waitaminute. Maybe that's why I haven't gained any weight.

I have a million holiday parties coming up, so here's to flipping my alcohol-loving switch back on.

I'm enjoying my off-season, enjoying extra time with Moose, enjoying my furbabies and really looking forward to 2011. I have a lot to be excited about, and hopefully sooner rather than later I can nail down my race schedule.

Seven Stages

2010-11-22T12:56:00.009-10:00

There are 7 stages of my post-Ironman psyche:

Stage 1: The Relief That It’s Over Phase
Dawn slept on the beach for two days straight, relieved that the training and racing was finally over.

Stage 2: The Second-Guessing Phase
Dawn lay in bed at night and wondered what if she’d dressed warmer or eaten more or ran more on race day.

Stage 3: The Chest-Beating Phase!
Dawn re-entered society and was met with shock and awe by her non-Ironman friends, who simultaneously think she’s nuts but also demonstrates super hero tendencies.

Stage 4: The Depressed Phase
Dawn stared at the clock and wondered what was on TV. Again. Without a training plan or a goal, she wonders if she’ll ever wear her tri kit, and begins sleeping until noon.

Stage 5: The Hoover Phase (My current phase)
Dawn eats and drinks with wild abandon. Gone are the self-imposed diet restrictions on white grains, dairy, alcohol (OK that wasn’t her idea), sugar, popcorn and potatoes. She consumes everything.

Stage 6: Disgust Phase
(She's not here yet) Dawn stops getting told to “eat more” by concerned coworkers, and develops a tummy pooch. Disgusted with herself, she vows to “never get like this again.”

Stage 7: Hey, I Just Signed Up For Another Ironman!!! Phase
Desperate for structure and a goal, Dawn signs up for yet another Ironman.

What else I’m up to:

Demonstrating textbook symptoms of my current stage, (Hoover) I bought a cookbook. OK, it’s sort of a cookbook with training wheels, but I think I can handle it. At least that’s the point of buying this particular one.

An example recipe (I’m not making this up):

Lemon Herb Chicken
4 Chicken Breasts
Lemon Herb Rub
Directions: Sprinkle lemon herb on chicken breasts. Grill until chicken is fully cooked. Eat.

Dare I mention it’s a “guy’s cookbook?” Written for men by a man?

I’ve opened the door to workouts again, sort of, in a desperate but futile attempt to stave off Stage 6.

On Saturday I ran for an hour and twenty minutes with a friend. I didn’t wear a watch or Garmin, so my Type A self is all worked up, what with not knowing how far/fast we ran. Don’t think I haven’t thought about mapmyrunning it.

It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Despite my lackadaisical marathon performance at Florida, my legs were surprisingly sore (still? It’s been 2 weeks!), and both IT bands started screaming. ::sad::

So I did what any frustrated Ironman athlete would do: I promptly went to yoga and tore it up.

Yes, it is possible to kill yourself in yoga, as proven by my complete inability to lift the Kleenex to wipe my depressed tears away with my delayed onset muscle soreness. Kleenex is so heavy. We probably did 47 pushups and I did them all. My shoulders and triceps are quivering noodles of a mess.

And because I overdid it and really can't move my arms (I'm typing with my toes), I took yesterday off and skipped swim today.

I am so lost.

Soon I will tire of my expanding mass and actually develop a kick-ass plan for next year, and all will be right in my world again...but probably not for two more stages.

The Big One: IMFL 2010 Race Report

2010-11-09T15:39:00.018-10:00

Wow, it's over. On November 6, 2010 I completed my third Ironman -- IMFL was a great ending to the season of my dreams.

The nitty gritty numbers: Total time was 13:10:01, a PR of 1:42:14, 59/124 AG OA

Swim: 1:14:49 (1:59/100m), a PR of 15:24, 37/124 AG
T1: 10:10
Bike: 6:00:42 (18.6 mph), a PR of 39:56, 31/124 AG
T2: 6:50
Run: 5:37:31 (12:53/mile), a PR of 51:22, 89/124 AG

I don't know my exact race weight (they don't weigh anymore, and I'm not neurotic enough to pack my scale...yet) but I'm estimating it was around 128.

Things I needn't have worried about:

**Sharks. Didn't see a single one. Saw a gazillion rays, some jellyfish, and two cute little fishies. That's it.
**Salt water. Psssshhh. Whatevs. Water is water. And much to my delight, PCB water is booo-teee-fullll!
**Bike problems. Didn't happen.
**A million other people. The good thing about being surrounded by nine others is that the odds are I won't be noticed -- because several other people are guaranteed to be way crazier than I am. I faded in and out of the group at will and no one seemed to notice, or care.
**Uber bitch. Yeah, she didn't really show up. More about that later.
**How much I wanted this one. Well, lots more about that later, too.

Things I really should've worried about:
**The weather. Specifically, the cold weather. I wasn't prepared for it, didn't dress for it and paid dearly for it.

**Porcelain soap dishes in foreign showers. Uhm, yeah. Two days pre-race I hit my head in the shower and ended up in the ER getting my forehead glued shut (instead of stitches). No shit!

And, it turns out Dermabond was a complete waste of time and money because it fell off in three days. Granted, one of those days was the race, which is like two normal human weeks, but still...

I'll be getting bangs at this week's hair appointment. Until then, Hello Kitty band-aids seem to be working just fine.

Ok, so the race report:

SWIM:

We swam in the ocean quite a bit pre-race, and the crystal clear waters of Panama City Beach were a delight compared to the swollen Ohio river and the pitch black Tempe Town Lake of races past. I had zero concerns about the swim.

That is until race day.

Race day was crazy cold. Insanely cold. Chicago cold - 39 degrees at the start, and I think 61 for a high. I was frozen solid before the swim started, even in my wetsuit and cap. The water was warmer than the air, but it was still cold! I couldn't feel my feet.

We were with all of our friends heading to the start, and the usual mix of emotions were swirling in my head. God, a year of obsession had led to this very moment. It's heady stuff, you know. This is do or die time.

As Moose and I walked under the arch with the gang, "our" song started playing. A completely inappropriate song for a race start, I might add. I expect, you know, like some Van Halen or Usher or something. Not a slow song. Not this song. Not now.

I broke down and immediately started crying. And yeah, Moose and all of our other guy friends may or may not have started choking back tears, too. They'll never admit it, so it didn't really happen. Right? :-) Sand in the eyes and all that. We hugged quickly, said our good lucks and headed off in separate directions to avoid a complete group break down.

I heeded my coach's advice, and seeded myself where she told me to. I tried in vain to find other white caps (women) because, let's face it, if I'm going to get the shit beaten out of me, I'd rather it came from another woman. I couldn't find any.

I turned around and was faced with a sea of humanity. Oh my fucking god! I'm too close to the front! I'm going to drown! Shit!

As Panama is blasting on the sound system, the cannon shot off, and I ran for my life towards the water.

The IMFL swim was the most beautiful swim evar, but also the most violent - by far. It's a two-loop swim and the first loop, I battled for space the entire way. I never got swam over, but the physicality of the swim surprised and scared me. Not enough to back off, though.

I swam with the big dogs.

The waves were coming from my right, so I mainly breathed to the left, and honesty, tried not to drown. Before I knew it, we were past the turn buoys and on our way back in. Although I couldn't see the buoys at all because of the mist caused by 2800+ pairs of flailing arms, I could tell where we were in relation to the shore by the color of the water. Out far = dark blue. The close we got to shore, the greener it got.

I ran out the first loop and was shocked to see I was out at 35 minutes. BOO-YA! I grabbed a cup of water, sucked it down, readjusted a few wetsuit parts and ran back in for loop two. I expected the second loop to be easier, but it wasn't. There was just as much fighting going on, but this time the current had picked up as well. Sweet!

Again, I focused primarily on not drowning.The last half mile or so, I matched stroke-for-stroke with another swimmer. Literally. We were like water twins. Every so often we'd get separated by a swimmer, but somehow we always found our way back. We swam that entire distance about 4 inches apart, shoulder to shoulder. He had a TYR wetsuit with red stripes down the sleeve and some sort of white helix. Anyway, I thought that was kind of cool.

Despite feeling like I swam the second loop much better and faster, I still ended up with a several-minute positive split. Everyone did though, so I can only assume it was the extra current.

Still, I'd crushed my previous swim times, and I smiled. YAY!

T1:
I ran up the beach, got stripped (and almost literally got stripped - had to grab my tri shorts to keep from being buck nekkid on the beach because they are two sizes too big), ran through the shower, grabbed my T1 bag and into the changing room.

The guys room was apparently way too small. I ran past no less than 30 dudes who were truly buck nekkid in the hallway, before hitting the ladies changing area.

This is where I made my first fatal flaw of the race.

I'd packed arm warmers, my GoreTex jacket and full gloves for the bike. I chose only to wear the arm warmers. No gloves. No jacket. I honestly didn't think it would be so cold. I was in Florida, for chrissake!

I think I expected the sun would shine away the frozen temps, what with it being, you know, The Sunshine State and all that.

I exited the tent wearing soaking wet tri shorts, a soaking wet jog bra, my tri singlet and arm warmers.

Dory looking all bad ass pre race!

THE BIKE:
I knew within a mile on the bike that I'd made a big mistake by not grabbing all of my clothes. Not only could I not feel my hands, I couldn't feel anything. I was numb from head to toe. The wind was ridiculous.

We ride in wind all the time, so it's not like I'm not used to it, but it still sucked. I was beyond shivering.

I tried to keep my bike "easy", and was racing without my HR monitor or Garmin. I had my bike computer, so I knew vaguely what my time was -- and focused on drinking my Perpetuem every 30 minutes.

This would become my second fatal mistake of the race: I didn't compensate for the cold by upping my calories. I had 810 calories on the bike, which is good for a nice summer ride, not a 40-degree race. In hindsight, I should've had at least 1200 calories, if not closer to 1500. I was using so much energy just to keep my body warm.

I was painfully cold; indescribably, utterly and completely miserable. And I stayed this way for the rest of my race -- and most of the next day. I never recovered, could never warm up. As the day grew, I felt like I had the flu. I didn't -- it was my body doing what it had to do to keep going.

IMFL is infamous for huge bike peletons. My coach warned me that all of the young men who were poor swimmers would pass me, and she was right. They did. Huge packs of 20-30 guys would zoom past.

They made me angry -- not only were they blatantly cheating -- they blazed by at ridiculous speeds with absolutely no wiggle room.

I stopped to use the bathroom at around mile 35 or so. I just can't pee on the bike. I can't do it, although I saw a few people doing it during the race. (Really?!?!)

After I'd started riding again, at about mile 40, a nasty accident happened in front of me. A guy decided he needed to pee in the woods on the other side of the road, and made a sudden and unannounced left turn right in front of the woman who was behind him. She went down hard. He continued into the woods to pee.

I stopped, along with four other riders. The woman was in agony - she had a broken collar bone, if not ribs too. Her day was obviously over. I helped get her bike out of the way, and directed other racers to get over, and waited for the course marshalls to show up on the motorcycle. I explained what I saw, and then left.

By this time, the dude had finished his pee, and much to his credit, came back to the scene. I don't wish bad stuff on anyone, but I hope he got DQ'd. I didn't stick around to find out.

I slowed down even more after that; became more cautious. I didn't care about my time. I wanted the race to be over. I wasn't having fun. I was shocked by the accident, and freezing my ass off.

I'm not going to rant too much about Ironman races, but man - 2800+ racers is too many. It's fine on the run, but the swim and the bike = dangerous and chaotic.

The rest of the bike was uneventful -- I ate exactly as planned, put my head down, and battled the winds. I stopped one more time to pee.

T2:
I patted Dory was we headed into T2 and thanked her for getting me through another ride.

Despite the bike nonsense, I was following the plan perfectly. I hit my goal time right on the nose: six hours! Sweet!

I had the same girl help me in T2 as in T1 and chatted with her. Her name was Maddie, and her mom was the volunteer coordinator. That's why she was still there six hours later. I told her she was good luck for me, and thanked her again for helping me twice in one day. I hit the bathroom one more time (at least I was hydrated!) and headed out on the run.

THE RUN:
I was hoping I'd warm up on the run, but that didn't happen. I ran out of transition and into huge crowds, so that was fun, but I was still miserably cold.

My tri team had members down there cheering, and even though I don't know everyone that well, they were rock stars! I was so happy to see them and felt great. They were the highlight of the entire race, and I saw them all four times I passed.

I knew I was going too fast, and made an effort to slow down. I still wasn't wearing my Garmin, but I had my Timex watch and was keeping splits. It felt sooo easy. I was running great, nothing really hurt, and this is my favorite type of run – and out and back, twice. I broke it down in my head to four runs: out, back, out back. Piece of cake.

I made it through the first out and most of the back, still following the plan, but I began feeling worse and worse. My fake flu symptoms were in full swing: all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. I ached all over – that achy flu feeling. I wasn’t in pain from the race, I was exhausted. Not Ironman exhausted, though. Sick exhausted.

I fantasized about pulling big puffy sweats on and sleeping in someone’s front yard. My throat hurt. My voice was hoarse. My head throbbed with each step. I was frozen beyond frozen. (I was running in my tri kit only at this point.)

I had two gel flasks, and intended to take one full one before starting the other, but I couldn’t keep track of which one was which, even by looking through their clear exteriors. It’s like I was stoned. I didn’t have a single clear thought in my head.

At the half-way point, we got our special needs bag, so I stopped and dug out my long sleeved shirt and my throwaway gloves. I was beyond thankful that I’d decided to put a special needs bag out – I initially wasn’t going to!

I’m missing a chunk of time, mentally, from miles 14 – 25. I mean, yeah, I remember trudging along, freezing my ass off. I stopped keeping splits with my watch. What’s the point? I knew I‘d fallen off the plan, and looking at 16:00 mile splits would only piss me off.

We wound through the neighborhood, past the bar, and out into the State Park, which was my least favorite part of the run. On the second loop, it was pitch black. I could hear animals making noise in the swamp, but was rational enough to realize no alligator could possibly be warm enough to move fast enough to catch me.

I stopped to pee at mile 20, and it would be the last time I’d pee for 24 hours. In addition to tossing both my gel flasks (they were too confusing and annoying to me), I also stopped drinking. I was so cold and the water was so freezing.

I had a head lamp and amused myself by turning it off and on. For some reason, I found this hilarious. Light on: chase the light. Light off: laugh in the darkness. Light on: chase the light. Light off: laugh like a hyena. I did that for about 3.5 miles, before handing my light off to someone who didn’t have one, heading out into the darkness.

“Here, you’re going to need this.”

I could hear the Ironman finish line fiesta, even though we were about two miles away. I looked at my watch: it was 12:44. I vaguely realized if I picked it up, I could come in under 13:13 – the time I’d bet on in our Ironman pool.

I started running and immediately popped a huge ass blister I didn’t even know I had on my foot. I swore and veered off course.

A guy I’d named Colorado (he was from Colorado), asked me what the hell just happened. I explained I’d hit a personal land mine. We chatted about my shoes for a minute (Asics) and I took off. I had a bet to win.

I ran the last two miles as hard as I could. Since I’d long since stopped keeping track of time, I have no idea how fast I was really going, other than it took me 25 minutes to go two miles, minus my land mine blow up.

There comes a point in every Ironman, when I’m at the finish, where I lose my physical body and just float. I floated in the last .75 mile or so. I literally don’t feel a thing. I didn’t hear my name, I have no idea what was playing on the tunes.

Moose and our friend Dan were there, and our friends waddler, and snips and Sara.

Moose ushered me to the food tent, where I downed two slices of pizza in about 45 seconds, and then we trotted off to get our transition bags and head home.

This is another example of just how mentally confused I was: we went in to get our bags and when asked what my bib # was for my T2 bag, I casually explained that I “didn’t have a T2 bag.”

Imagine my panic the next morning as I was packing my Tri Bike Transport gear and realized I was missing all of my bike gear! (Dan took me back to the race area, and after about 20 minutes of searching, we found it. Thank God!)

FINAL THOUGHTS:
In hindsight, I was way too cold. I didn’t wear enough clothing, I didn’t take in enough calories, I didn’t drink enough on the latter stages of the run.

I’m positive had I worn more clothes, I’d have had a different race. But I only missed my super secret dream time by a little over an hour, and I’m crazy thrilled with my day overall. I’m not disappointed in the least. How can I be? I PR’d by almost two hours! :-)

I’ll take this opportunity as another lesson. If I knew it all, what fun would that be?

I’m so proud of all my friends who raced with me – they’re the ones who make mile after training mile so fun.

I’m over the moon proud of Moose, who not only came back from being hit by a car and having a detached retina this summer , but who had the swim of his life, and the bike of his life. He’s the epitome a true Ironman: Never Give Up.

He went into this race knowing it would be painful and slow, and yet he made the most of it. He kicked ass when he could and hung on when he needed to. My god, I love him to death.

I can’t wait for next year!

What my mom would say

2010-10-20T08:59:00.007-10:00

When I was a little kid - really little - like 4, I had a nightmare that was vivid enough that I remember it to this day. My bedroom was attached to the attic, and my bed was near the attic door. In this dream, my dad (whom at this point I'd only seen in photos because my parents divorced and he lived thousands of miles away) came to visit me from the attic. I reached out to touch him, and he crumbled into a million pieces when my hands touched his arm.

I freaked out enough that my mom had to rearrange my room so my bed was farthest from that door. For years she'd open the door periodically so I could peer into the darkness in the safety of her presence and see that a pile of my crumbled dad was not in there.

As we're closing in on two weeks until race day, I'm opening up the attic door to my race fears so I can be reassured that they're not that bad. In the end, this is just a race and I'm doing this for fun. I don't make my living racing, I'll never qualify for Kona and in 10 years, I'll still remember race day, but it won't be the big deal it is right now.

Gulp. Right?

I'm afraid of sharks.
What mom would say: the sharks are more afraid of you. (OK, this one seems a little bit like a cop out answer, but yeah, she's right. They probably are more afraid of me. And if not, I'll punch them.)

I'm afraid I'll swallow too much salt water and throw up all my nutrition.
What mom would say: maybe you should keep your mouth closed on the swim. Also, with as much salt as you eat in general, you're partially marine life anyway.

I'm afraid of a bike mechanical.
What mom would say: so what? You can change a flat. You've had bike problems before. You know what to do.

I'm afraid of spending an entire week in a house with a million other people. In my world, it's usually just me and Moose and many days during the week, we barely see one another, so I spend a good chunk o' time solo. How will I adjust to constant people -we're sharing the beach house with 8 people - 10 during actual race weekend? Gack!
What mom would say: calm down. You can go off to the beach, or close your door and take a nap and no one will care. You are not responsible for everyone else or their happiness.

I'm afraid of being uber bitchy on race day. My friends joke about "Pre-race Dawn". PRD is mean to the nth degree. I'll admit it. I'm a complete 180 of my typical quiet, calm self when I'm scared -- and in the hours leading up to an Ironman, I'm about as scared out of my mind as I get.
What mom would say: she'd remind me that she raised me to be a good person and to not do or say anything that would diminish my character. And if that doesn't work, go do my own thing and again, stop worrying about everyone else!

And the final fear, the one that's hardest to admit, the one that makes me swallow hard and break out into a cold sweat:

I'm afraid of how much I want this one.

WTF?!?! Right?! Seriously?

But I am.

The obsession I've had all year with every bite of food I eat, every drop of liquid I consume, every ounce on the scale, every wink of sleep, every meter in the pool, every mile on the bike and every foot step on the run; every massage, every vitamin, every song for my iPod, every waking day dream, and my Coach, all comes down to this.

Do I have what it takes? I want it - "it" being to race the hell out of myself on November 6th, to know that I could not have pushed myself any harder; to leave it all out on the line.

We have an Ironman Pool going amongst our friends. We each put in $20 and guess what time we think we'll finish. The person closest to their estimated time without going over wins the pool.

I can't tell you how freaked out I get when I sit down and plug in my "perfect day" race numbers. I've calcuated them a million times and more, based on my 70.3 races this year and my training, and the goal time I come up with blows my mind.

There's no way I can do that. Me? (But what if I can!?)

I dragged my ass in under the time limit at Lou. I did a little better at Arizona and landed in the hospital for 5 days (coughunrelatedcough), but still - that goal number, what I could push out on a great day, scares the bejeezus out of me.

And my mom? Well, she'd say: I love you no matter how you do at that "marathon."

And that, folks. is what makes it all OK. It's just a race. Right?! :-)

Questions galore!

2010-10-13T10:23:00.005-10:00

What I do when I call in sick and am not asleep - I answer questions. Got these from Kim. Feel free to cut/paste into your own blog.

One Word Mime in a Blog. The rule goes like this: Your answers have to be just a single word. Feel free to post it in your blogs and pass it on:

1. Where is your cell phone? Attached
2. Your significant other? Best
3. Your Hair? Dyed
4. Your Skin? Storied
5. Your mother? Love
6. Your favorite thing? Roger
7. Your dream last night? Chased
8. Your favorite drink? Beerz
9. Your dream/goal? Speed
10. The room you’re in? Living
11. Your hobby? Expensive
12. Your fear? Accidents
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? West
14. Where were you last night? Training
15. What you’re not? Loud
16. Muffins? English
17. One of your wish list items? Happiness
18. Where you grew up? Ohio-zona
19. The last thing you did? Napped
20. What are you wearing? Uggs
21. Your TV? Flat
22. Your pets? Rule
23. Your computer? HP
24. Your life? Rocks
25. Your mood? Tired
26. Missing someone? Always
27. Your car? Sensible
28. Something you’re not wearing? Underwear
29. Favorite Store? Online
30. Your summer? Perfect
31. Like someone? Love
32. Your favorite color? Blue
33. When is the last time you laughed? Always
34. Last time you cried? Cycling
35. I hate? Mindgames
36. Whose answers are you anxious to see? All!

A week later and I'm too tired to be the basketcase I was last week. Well, not really, I feel fantastic, but you get my point. I've bounced back.

2010-10-10T14:19:00.005-10:00

I think the biggest difference between last week and this week is about, oh, 50 degrees. Which confirms my suspicion that I'm a tropical lizard.

We're having an awesomely wicked heat wave in the Midwest, so my body has come out of hibernation to once again participate in my ironman training.

Much to my relief. Not that I was worried or anything. Just nuts - but if you read my blog regularly - I've already admitted that we're all nuts 4 weeks out from the Ironman.

In addition to the freak heatwave, I also got a massage and visited my shaman.

I haven't gotten a massage in, like, years. I kept threatening, but never actually followed through on it. That is until I was certain I was permanently broken last week. (Yes, I'm dramatic. Quiet, but dramatic. I'm still a Leo after all.)

My thoughts on the massage:

The first thing I noticed was the massage bed (table?) was heated. I looked around to see if I'd died and gone to heaven. (See the previous part about being a lizard.)
Then I noticed the thread count on the sheets was close to 1 million. They were like butter.
And most important, there wasn't one single dog hair anywhere. Well, except for the 70,000 that I'd contaminated the joint with off my clothes.

I was so in love with the heat, the sheets and the lack of dog hair that I actually climbed back onto the table after I'd gotten dressed for one last feel.

And then I booked another massage. :-)

And then I made a visit to my shaman because he always fixes me.

My thoughts on that:

His table is not heated, nor is it even sheeted, but that's just fine because it's less mess to clean up when I crap my pants because he's breaking my femur in half right in front of me.
He was so excited at the depth and size of my quad knot that he was giggling like a school girl. I, on the other hand, was sweating like crazy, holding my breath and trying not to crap my pants or scream loudly.
His trigger point on my knot was actually causing my entire quad muscle to quiver like, well, I dunno. Like a muscle being stepped on by an elephant.
At one point, he showed me a picture book from his most recent deep-sea fishing trip, and it was all I could do to not rip it in half as he tried to break my leg.

He did the elephant dance on my quad 4 times, I got up and walked out feeling better than I have in months!

But I didn't book an appointment with him for this week. That's an uber-special weapon only to be used in the most extreme of circumstances.

And so, between the blissfully warm temperatures, the massage and the shaman, I was able to knock out my highest-volume training week of my life this week. What a difference a week makes.

I'm back on track mentally and physically to do this thang!

A slight setback

2010-10-03T13:44:00.002-10:00

This is supposed to be my crazy peak phase, where the hours I'm putting into my training rival that of a part-time job, and I build the confidence that I can do this.

Instead, I spent more time napping this afternoon than I did riding this morning.

::sob::

I've had an awesome week. Spectacular, in fact. Yesterday I ran 18 Smooth Operator miles. I'm running better than ever, which is saying a lot - I've done 8 marathons.

I was supposed to ride for 5 hours today, and made plans with Moose and a friend to head out into the wind for the first half so we'd finish strong, because the wind has been redonkulous lately.

It was cold this morning. Way colder than it's been - it is October in Chicago, after all.

So, I bundled up: wool socks, booties, fleece-lined cycling tights, fleece top, cycling jacket, and neoprene hoodie.

I was tired immediately, but hey, I should be, right? This was the final workout in a week of mega hours of training (for me). I was doing OK - kind of. I couldn't seem to keep up, and my legs were so. tired.

It wasn't long before my right quad started to hurt - both on the upstroke and the down stroke.

We stopped about 25 miles into our ride for water and to ask a cop for directions (we were riding in a new area) and that was the beginning of the end.

As we were leaving, I had problems lifting my leg over my top tube. My bike mount was so clumsy that I made a joke about it, but in the back of my mind I was concerned. That friggin' hurt!

And I was...done.

The good thing about crying on the bike is your tears fall away immediately. A few miles later I pulled off to the side of the road. Wow, my leg really hurt! Moose stopped with me, and together we hobbled another mile where our friend was waiting patiently for us.

He was the voice of reason.

Here's the thing: I will actually ride until my leg falls off. I just will, it's who I am. But they convinced me to at the very least to end the "out" and start heading home, cutting the ride short.

All I could think of was how disappointed I was. Will my coach be mad? Disappointed? Think I'm a failure? I felt like an ass. I'd ruined the ride. And we're supposed to be peaking!

So we turned and started heading back. I was averaging 13-14 mph. I made it 7 more miles - tears streaming behind my sunglasses, all sorts of negative thoughts racing through my mind: What the fuck am I doing? I'm never going to be good at the Ironman. I'm such a loser. I should've known better than to try this distance again. I suck and will always suck. What an idiot.

You know - dark, dark thoughts.

In the end, the phone call no one wants to make was made, my ride was over. I had quit.

Moose sat on the side of the road with me, waiting to be picked up and wiped my tears when I totally lost it for the last time.

I've been self-diagnosing by Interwebs all evening. It's an odd spot - upper thigh, but not inner or outer, so it's not an adductor or abductor. Fortunately it's not near my knee. Or groin.

I think, really, it's only a quadriceps strain. I think the cold weather was probably the final straw. I'm fatigued from the training and the low temps were too much for tight muscles.

I've been icing and using our assortment of medieval torture devices on it. I'll go see my shaman as early as I can - he'll tell me for sure what's wrong, and no doubt fix it.

My season isn't over. I'll finish my Ironman if I stay smart and take care of myself, but it still sucks ass. Now? Now? Really?

My newest obsessions

2010-10-01T08:07:00.007-10:00

Things that motivate and excite me these days include an impulse buy at the grocery store, a gift from a friend that’s as good as gold, and a new master’s swim class.

As I write this, we’re 5 weeks and 1 day out from IMFL. That means that we’re cresting the peak of this mountain of training.

I feel good. No - I feel friggin’ awesome. I mean, yeah, I’m tired as hell and can literally fall asleep anywhere if I sit still for too long, but I feel good in the water, I feel good on the bike and I feel good churning out those run miles!

Moose and I are mowing through food at astonishing rates, as you can imagine. We came home from da Bears game Monday night, and I realized he’d eaten the last of my Skinny Cow ice creams. ‘Dems fightin’ actions there!

And, as I ranted, I also couldn’t help but notice that he was knuckle-deep in my Sam’s Club barrel of salted almonds. So, that meant a trip to the grocery store to refill the coffers, which rates up there with wading in sewer water or doing timed math tests as far as I’m concerned.

I generally despise it, and handle grocery shopping like a military mission: get in and get out!

I was racing down the aisles when I saw this notebook out of the corner of my eye. And I had to have it.

Item #1 that I’m obsessed with is a mass-produced red and black Julius the Sock Monkey journal. I have it at work – and every time I look at the cover, it makes me smile.

It’s about as anti-corporate as I dare go, and it reminds me when I’m in endless meetings that there’s life outside of this pointless rat race, and that dreams are good.

No, I don’t dream about Julius the Sock Monkey, but it’s exactly the same notebook I’d be carrying around if I was 18 instead of 38 – and when I was 18, anything was possible.

Item #2 that I’m gaga over is what I’ve lovingly dubbed, The Holy Grail.

Before you get religiously offended, realize what I have and then you’ll see why I call it that! A friend gave me a one Terabyte hard drive (that’s like a gabillion X a gabillion) with oodles of music on it. And when I say oodles, I mean like every band, artist, song and their recordings since the beginning of time.

Think about that for a minute, and then nod your head: yes, Dawn, you do have The Holy Grail!

I have that at work too, and listen to it every chance I get. It’s phenomenal. It’s like an iPod on steroids.

My final new obsession is a bit of a surprise, but not really.

My coach started a master’s swim program fairly close to my house, and at a time that I can generally make it. Since my usual master’s swim class is going on hiatus for a few months, I made the leap to her class.

I always have a bit of anxiety starting new swim anywhere. I have flashbacks of my first swim lessons. You remember that adventure – me, 35, and a class of them, all aged 7. How many ways can I say mortified?

Anyway, I took a deep breath and tried something new: and I’m discovering a whole new world of swimming.

I can’t claim that I’ve mastered the freestyle stroke, because I haven’t. (I’m not sure I ever will), but we do more than freestyle. This is a swim class (not a triathlon swim class), and we do it all.

The first time she told us to do the IM, I was like, “crazy ass says what?”

IM in my book = Ironman.

IM in the swimming world = Individual Medley.

Seriously.

I wikipedia’d it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medley_swimming

I get the “individual” part. That’s fairly straightforward. It’s the “medley” part that scares the crap out of me. It’s SO hard and yet…SO FUN! I LOVE IT. I can’t even really do it, especially the butterfly, but it’s so much fun trying. And I swear to god, when we do end up swimming freestyle, it’s so much easier.

I'm obsessed.

We've all gone more nuts

2010-09-26T10:41:00.008-10:00

We're 6 weeks out from Ironman Florida.

Well, technically, we're 5 weeks and 6 days out.

And hell yes, I'm counting!

I break it down all sorts of ways:
**With taper, it's really only 3 weeks. Technically 2 weeks and 6 days.
**My bike goes away on TriBike Transport a week before the race, so that's really 3 weeks, but then only one more week and a fart-around last weekend...
**If I only count long rides, then it's like 2 more 100+ rides, maybe 3, which, when broken down further, are 4 50+ miles rides ridden consecutively, or 10 10+ miles rides x2, maybe 3, or...

You get the idea.

I've gone nuts.

But I'm not the only one. We've ALL gone nuts. Well, more nuts than usual. "We" being me and all of my friends doing IMFL. It's only natural. I get that. We're at the height of insanity. This train left the station almost a year ago, but it's been picking up speed like crazy the past few weeks, and we can finally all see the end of the line -- where this train pulls up to an endless beach in Panama City, and the only choice is to hop off and start swimming.

The closer we get to the race, the louder the hum of insanity gets, for all of us.

Moose has decided now that he needs a new saddle, which means he's in the bike shop for several hours every other day, trying something new out. (OK, in his defense, his previous saddle sort of fell apart.)

Another one of our friends got a new bike fit, radically changing his entire set-up: going aggressive, moving cleats, the whole nine yards. But considering this is the same guy who bought new shoes (as in never even wore the model before) the day before he did IMMOO and then wore them on race day, he's light years ahead of himself.

I'm right there with them on the crazy train. I'm so happy I have a coach - moreso now than at any other point, which is saying a lot. I have no idea how I've done this 2x before without her. Even so, I still have one leg on the ground, and the other in the batshit crazy cave:

**I take an insane amount of vitamins in an attempt to stay healthy. (My hair is awesome!)
**I'm almost fanatic about my sleep, which is difficult with my job. I have no qualms about heading upstairs at 8 p.m. Thank god for DVRs, because I am and always will be, a TV girl.
**I ordered race wheels (Hed's if anyone cares - Jet 6/9 Combo)
**I'm afraid I'll be afraid of my wheels.
**I'm crazy enough to wonder if I should actually, you know, race with them. (I don't adapt to change well. Remember it took me 2 years and like 7 bike fits before I finally accepted Dory.)
**I'm constantly adding up silly and pointless race numbers - as in, "If I swim this and take this much time in T1, then bike y, and run z..."

Not to mention all of the ridiculous pre-planning I'm doing for 2011, which, I think, is a coping mechanism - kind of like dissociation. "I can't worry about Ironman Florida now, I have my English Channel swim to worry about next year!"

We all have moments where we question if we're ready, will we be ready, are we too ready?

Will this make us faster? Or that? Less Xtend? More Xtend? More orange juice? Less coffee? Whiter toothpaste? No toothpaste?

As I told another one of my (slightly nuts, but only because she's doing IMFL in six weeks, er 5 weeks and 6 days) friends, we're all normal. This is all normal. This is part of doing the Ironman. It's funny, I see it clear as day when chatting with my friends, but when I turn the eye to myself, it all goes to hell.

The closer November 6th gets, the further away it seems.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go work on the mini yet to-scale model I've made of the bike course so I can study every elevation change -- the road is ready for its little fake paint.

Rev 3 Cedar Point Race Report

2010-09-13T13:57:00.014-10:00

Holy crap! For starters, wow, it's been 2 weeks since I last posted. Since I have constant internal dialogue going on, I'm startled that I've been so...quiet. It's so loud in my head.

Oh, yeah, and it's been two weeks since my last race. :-)

On that note, my Rev 3 Cedar Point race report:

(Disclaimer: May take reader as long to read as it took me to race, so skip to the very bottom if all's ya want is cold, hard numbers.)

I've been a racing fool this year. I think I've raced more this year than all of my other years combined. Seriously. I'll admit, there's some race burnout going on, and I joked all day yesterday that, "my season is one race too long." But then I'd remind myself I could be fat and sick and a vegetable on the couch.

I knew I wanted to do the Rev 3 Cedar Point Half Ironman as soon as I heard about it, so if IMFL was my "A" race, then this one was my "A-" race. But like most of my races this year, it snuck up on me. I didn't really taper (as in the weekend prior I rode 87 miles hard and then ran the fastest 14 miles of my life the next day), and I was sick for most of the week with a cold/flu-type issue. But whatevs. Shake it off, right?

We headed up and moved out in the family truckster with some of our tri buddies Friday.

------> Paleo diet approved? Ah, no. Good idea for pre-pre-race nutrition? Also, ah, no. But tasty? Oh yes. Tasty! Coconut M&M's!!! And jerky. Food of the Gods.

As soon as we dropped off all of our gear at the hotel, we made a beeline for race check-in Friday night. It was really easy - the Cedar Point amusement park was closed to the public, so we zoomed in and got front row parking. But on the flip side, no one was there. Like, no one.

But the race staff was awesome, and we got really good race schwag - they don't mess around at Rev 3! We got a cotton race t-shirt, a Headsweats brand visor (my new favorite visor!!!) and all of our race numbers, chip, etc. Super easy check-in.

DRAMA ON THE HIGH SEAS
Saturday we went back for the practice ~~swim~~ drown. OMFG! The water was the worst I've ever tried to swim in! Holy crap! We headed out as a group - all of us (my tri friends, 6 of us total), and stuck together, which forced me to keep going. One of them said, "You have to understand, I swim at the Lifetime pool! What is this?!"

I wanted to high tail it out of that water so badly. Like, bolt and never look back. And I would've if it was just me, but I'm a lemming and they kept going so I kept going. Assholes. hahaha

I thought once we got past the breakwater, that the water would be calmer, but it was worse. We were getting tossed around in 5-6 foot waves. I couldn't figure the pattern out, I got bounced around like a toy. I think it took me 45 minutes to swim 300 yards out and back! Gulp. I hoped it would be better on race day.

We racked our bikes Saturday, and it was awesome -- instead of racks, they had boxes for us to put our bikes in, with each athlete's name. Very cool. Easy to use, made for a very clean transition area!

I slept really good for me the night before the race, got up and ate a piece of ww bread, PB and a banana for breakfast, then we met our group of tri friends and drove to Cedar Point. Again, getting to the race was a piece of cake.

It was chilly setting up, but the winds had shifted and thankfully the water was a thousand times calmer that it was the day before! Yay!

We all suited up for warmth and stood on the beach, watching the full Rev 3 competitors come out of the water on their first loop and head into the second loop. It was really cool to see them! During setting up in transition and watching the full peeps, I ate 2 Hammer gels.

THE SWIM
Ok, when am I going to learn that I can swim? I mean, no, I'm no Dara Torres, but I always, always, always self-seed way too far back and spend a lot of energy swimming through traffic. So, yeah, this race was no exception.

I struggled through swimmers until the first turn buoy. Argh!

I'm also apparently am yellow-blind. The buoys between turns were yellow - and I never saw a single one of them until I was like 20 feet from them. It wasn't sunny, so I probably have some new, undocumented missing color yellow rods or cones in my eyeballs or something that's gone undiagnosed. Yeah, that's probably it.

Overall the swim was one of the more difficult ones I've had in terms of traffic, chop, sighting and general conditions, but I never freaked out. Yahoo! Small victories.

THE BIKE
I headed out on the bike feeling really, really happy that the swim was over. Immediately something felt "off" but I didn't know what. The road heading out of the park was rotten - rutted, with speed bumps and many, many holes - potholes and ruts and really pretty crappy. We'd driven the course the day before, so this wasn't a surprise to me.

Within 2 miles, I lost a C02 cartridge. I heard it fall, but didn't know what it was -- I thought I actually lost a bike part and was looking for an obvious missing piece, like my chain or a pedal or something, when the guy behind me told me it was a cartridge. OK, I'm down to one. Hopefully I won't have a Chrissie moment.

I had a Chrissie moment.

It wasn't immediately, but around mile 18 I felt my seat twist. I thought, "wow, I must really be sweating to slip so easily on my saddle!" which surprised me because it was still really chilly out.

Ah, no. That wasn't sweat, that was my seat falling off.

ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?!!!!

HAHAHA.

I was so shocked that I started laughing. Ah, shit. Here we go.

I stopped in someone's driveway and visions of Louisville danced in my head. This is the first serious mechanical I've had since then, so 1 every 3 years ain't bad.

I was thinking in my head, "can I ride 38 more miles standing?"

I whipped out my trusty (and rusty) tool and started randomly tightening bolts, before realizing that of course it was one of the bolts under my race sticker -- I always put it on my seat post. So I'm trying to peel that off when out of the blue 3 SAG guys are there like magic. Seriously! I never see SAG on a race, evar, and here were 3 of them! They basically confirmed I was (finally) tightening the right bolt and sent me on my way.

I thanked them profusely and told them I hoped I didn't see them again that day.

I don't know how many minutes that little snafu cost me, but I'm estimating (based on the difference between my bike computer and my race time) ~ 6 minutes.

It felt like an eternity.

I worked my way back into traffic and started picking off all the riders that I'd picked off previously.

The course is not flat! Not by a long shot - a surprise to this NW Ohio girl. I grew up several hours south, which is pancake flat. It was also very windy, but it seems like all I do is ride in wind anymore, so - par for the course.

But I liked the course - a lot. I think if they can clean up some of the pavement and maybe find some sections that haven't been recently chip-sealed, they will have a crazy good course. It was pretty and challenging and overall, a good ride!

At one point, I got a little sappy - an indication that I'm tired. The sun was shining, I was hauling ass, passing guys and feeling really good -- and was a little overcome by how great this year has been. It's difficult to put in words, but I was working so hard and it didn't matter that the swim was a washing machine or I'd lost time on the bike or my legs were screaming -- I was having a blast.

I rode harder than I usually do -- turned it up a notch or two. If I rode Steelhead easyish at 75-80%, then this was closer to 90%. Not all out, but pretty hard. I hoped it wouldn't bite me in the ass on the run.

On the way back into the park (on Pothole Lane), I could hear the motorcycle cop leading the male pro from the full, and as they passed me I zoomed up for a few meters and pretended the cop was leading me. :-)

That was really fun.

Oh, and I lost all of my tire levels on the way back in. Someone combing that street probably has enough bike parts to build their own race bike.

Bike nutrition: Estimated 400 calories of Perpetuem and about 50 ounces of water.

THE RUN
I headed out on the run way, way, wayyyy too fast. My first mile was an 8:25. I stopped to pee right after MM1, and mile 2 was 9:22 with a pee break and a water stop.

Slow down, Tigger!

I really wanted the race to be over. Nothing hurt per se, but I was mentally done. I kept looking for the mile markers, and sort of zoned out on the course. It seemed there was a lot of zigging and zagging and weird little loops.

By now, it was sunny and warmer than I thought it was supposed to get. I ate 3 gels on the course (every 3ish miles). At around mile 10 I started to feel really bad -- and took stock. I was white - covered in salt, and hadn't taken a single endurolyte all day. It was so chilly on the bike, but obviously I needed them stat. Fortunately, they had them on the course, so I snagged two and wala - problem solved.

The last two miles my legs were so tired and sore. I was trying to pick up my pace and kick it, but they just didn't have anything left to kick. I guess I did ride too hard after all.

A girl I'd been chatting to prior to the swim passed me with less than a mile to go. She's the exact same age as me. I tried so hard to fall in behind her, but she just had more in her legs than I did.

The finish line at the Rev 3 definitely rivals the Ironman. Dare I say, in a few years when they have a bigger base, it's gonna be better than the Ironman! There was a long, long carpet and finisher's chute, a huge jumbo tron, a fantastic announcer, good crowd (when I finished -- later in the evening, there was no crowd at all. Sad.)

---->waddler got this shot of me finishing. I'm nowhere near that tall or legged-looking, so she must have a freak camera. :-)

To recap, no, I didn't PR. I was exactly 8 minutes slower than Steelhead, despite racing (what I felt) was much, much harder on the exertion level. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Not enough to rock my world or anything, but I'm definitely a little sad.

I'm staying positive that I didn't freak on the swim, didn't freak with the bike mishap and was wise enough to realize my nutrition was off on the run and fix it as soon as I could.

STATS FOR YA'LL WHO DON'T LIKE TO READ MY BABBLING:
Race weight: 126.6
Swim: 37:55 (1:57/100m)
T1: 2:45
Bike: 2:55:18 (19.17 mph)
T2: 2:12
Run: 2:01:13 (9:15/mile)
Total: 5:39:01

9/44 AG
31/267 Women
220/751 OA

All Summer Long

2010-08-30T11:32:00.006-10:00

It’s been my observation that the more beautiful the race venue, the more difficult the race. For example, Galena is a magnificent area of Illinois, and the Galena sprint tri is notoriously hilly. The Horribly Hilly Hundreds, a bike ride in Wisconsin, has redonkulous, uh, horrible elevations – but is way pretty. See?

I raced my second Olympic distance tri this weekend in Petoskey, a gorgeous little town roughly 7 hours north of Chicago, in northern Michigan. It was stunningly beautiful. Calendar beautiful. Post card worthy.

You do the math.

RBR, I thought of you often. You are one tough athlete. Hills kills.

The Breakwater Triathlon (Olympic distance) was not originally on my race radar, but was quickly added a few weeks ago to help my tri team (Tri Smart) score some more points in our USAT division.

I drove up with two awesome friends, and we’re still friends after the trip. Over the course of Saturday/Sunday we spent 15 hours together in the car. Well, now that I think about it, we actually spent every minute of the entire trip together, sans bathroom breaks.

And, I might add, there were no fist fights or cussing matches, at least none directed at one another, and we’re all still speaking to one another, so – good times!

This was a really easy race venue to get in/out of, with awesome parking and facilities. It was a piece of cake getting everything set up race morning, and it was, hands-down, the most relaxed race I’ve ever been to. Must be all that pristine beauty. And indoor plumbing.

THE SWIM
The water temp was 72. It was a wade start from a boat dock, out the marina between two rows of boats, and then two loops around the buoys before heading back to the dock. There was a barge sitting near the breakwater, for repairs. I smiled and felt a little connected to our teammates, many of who were racing at the exact same time as us, except they were doing Ironman Louisville, which is loaded with barges waiting for the triathletes to get out of the water so they can resume barging.

And like IMLOU, the water also had some added diesel flavor. But unlike Lou, the water was crystal clear (despite the fuel). I loved it. You could see all the way to the bottom. Beautiful, blue, clear. It was awesome. I wish I had one of those underwater cameras to take pix. We could have been in the deep blue seas of Hawaii.

I realized as soon as we made the second turn on the course that I’d forgotten to wear my ear plugs. I realized this because the water was a little choppy and wavy. I immediately tossed up some of my PB toast that I’d eaten for breakfast. Dammit! What a dumb ass mistake to make. But, whatevs, it’s not even a mile swim, right? Suck it up (or spit it out in this case, buttercup.)

It was an OK swim. Not my best. I never really got into a groove. It was difficult to, what with 8 turns in less than a mile. I didn’t sight as well as I have in the past. Fortunately, I didn’t get too sick, and I loved the beauty of the water.

T1:
Ok, I won’t spend too much time on transitions, but the T1 was probably the only really, truly bad (yet amusing) thing about this entire event and is worth noting. It had a bit of an Xterra feel to it: Out the corral barefoot, across a brick road, up a flight of stairs (carrying bike and shoes), through an underpass (beneath the highway), up a flight of stairs, turn, up another flight of stairs and finally to the mount line. Hahahahaha!

I was in zone 5 before I even got on the bike, and we were faced with a half-mile climb straight out of transition. Zoikes!

BIKE
The bike course was the hilliest bike course I’ve raced a triathlon on, and rivals that of the Horribly Hilly Hundreds -- which means there was a lot (and I mean a lot) of mental swearing.

The first five miles were the toughest, with many steep and long climbs. I was lucky to look down and see 8 mph. I broke my rule of no little ring. Oh man, I used it again and again and again. Dory was great – she didn’t drop her chain once.

After we got past the first five miles, it remained very hilly, just not 8 mph at top speed hilly, until the last 5 miles and then it was stupid hilly again.

I missed the first turnaround. Twice. The volunteer was convinced I’m an idiot. I’m convinced he was a mute idiot (but thanks for volunteering!)

We were supposed to do a U-turn. I *swear* he motioned for me to turn right, so I did and he started screaming at me, so I looked over my shoulder and he’s like, ‘get back here’. So I went back – and turned right again – thinking I was initially supposed to go straight. So he screamed at me AGAIN and was like, “this is the TURNAROUND” and I was like, “well why didn’t you say so the first time?” and then I joked that it was really early and really sunny.

I didn’t look around too much while riding – I felt I spent a lot of time climbing and a lot of time flying down hills trying not to biff it, but I did notice a lot of forest roads and it reminded me of my college days at NAU.

If all of Northern Michigan is like Petoskey – and it appeared to be – then I can see why Kid Rock wrote a song about it.

T2:
The made us use the ramp instead of the stairs going back into transition, so there was a lot of that back-and-forth that ramps usually have. I actually laughed out loud at the insanity of it.

But quick transition and zoom we’re off on the run.

THE RUN
The run was awesome. Usually I take off like a lunatic immediately off the bike, but I was the opposite this time. It took me a good two miles to shake the hills out of my legs. The run was mostly flat, with a lot of shade and we ran the majority of the course along Lake Michigan. It was stunning.

I had the chance to see all of my teammates out on the course too, and that was great. I love being on this team. There’s nothing more motivating than getting a high five or a holler in the middle of a race.

The more I ran, the faster I got. I have no splits, but I know the last 2 miles I was hauling ass and passing guys left and right!

The finish area was on a great lawn on shores of Lake Michigan. We sat around, ate the yummy post-race food (they had awesome food – fresh deli sammiches, chips, fruit, twizzlers, cookies, water – all good stuff.) and chatted. We cooled off in the lake and waited for awards, and then afterwards, visited a local campground and took showers before heading home.

RESULTS:
This is my first-ever AG win, but I say that laughing. There were only 4 women in my AG. I was 6th woman overall (out of 27) and 22nd overall (out of 100). We got bottles of wine.

Weight 127.2
Swim: 28:54 1:59/100m
T1: 1:23
Bike: 1:29:39 (16.6mph)
T2: 1:11
Run: 52:00 (52:00)
2:53:05

And yeah, even though the two Oly’s I’ve done so far have been extreme – either in temps or elevation – I think I really do like this distance!

More nonsense!

2010-08-24T14:35:00.004-10:00

Yeah, I've used this picture before on my blog, but hey: it's my blog, and I like it! The photo. Well, the blog, too.

I finally match my USAT age! 38 for those counting candles. It's not an advancement in AG or anything, so it's sort of a non-event.

My birthday was a week or so ago. The day itself was spent with my friend - a fellow Ironman Florida competitor - riding our asses off over hills, and hills and hills, followed by some birthday steak and birthday cake for recovery. Since riding my bike is one of my favorite things to do, it was a great day! I think we both had fun, and there's always extra smugness to inhaling steak when you feel like you've 'earned' it.

As with any little milestone, my birthday is always a time to think about the future.

My dreams, thoughts and general observations:

I just read that the cost of an Ironman is now going to be $700.

I'm out! I fold!

I'm not debating whether or not it's a justifiable cost, I'm flat out stating that a Ford-branded Ironman has now become too expensive for me.

I want to leave Chicago and move home.

Or close to home: Arizona, Nevada, Utah or New Mexico will do.

Every year it gets a little tougher. Case-in-point: this latest debacle with Moose's eye - we asked the Moose Parents if they could come help -- and for various reasons, they could not. We moved here 15 years ago to be independent and have high adventure -- which we've done. And now I want the support and love of my family. Moose does too.

I want to run another marathon, a fast marathon.

And I have a short list of choices. My harebrained plan now, without chatting with my coach, is to race triathlon through June/July of 2011 and then train for a fall marathon (Octoberish), but I'm *not* racing Chicago again.

I'm a little burnt out on Ironman training.

But that means I'm right on course with everything, because I traditionally become overwhelmed and freak out right about now -- I'm on schedule to be nuts. So I'm accepting that I still have 10.75 weeks to go, and I'm working on the "one day at a time" plan.

I enjoy popcorn.

It used to be my favorite food evar, but currently it's cheeseburgers. Although now that I think about it, if I was forced to eat one food for the rest of my life, and only that food, I'd have to go with popcorn.

I like the old-fashioned popcorn that you make on the stove. But you have to have the right pan, which we don't. So I will find a new awesome popcorn pan for that little love in life.

Nonsense is good.

Like posts about popcorn, Arizona, racing and family. I like nonsense. I need more nonsense.

A funny thing happened on the way to absurdity

2010-08-17T16:13:00.002-10:00

When I came home from work yesterday, I noticed immediately that:

1. There was food sitting on the table for me. Hot, steamy, brand new food, not crap I'd left there at breakfast.
2. My husband was home.

Of course he's always home these days. 24/7 to be exact. Being blindish totally cuts into driving. Plus, he's still following that "keep yer damn head down" rule that the doc keeps bellowing, which scores him a reprieve from work.

Fine. But like inmates and mental patients, he's getting used to his strange new world -- and so am I.

We're not nearly as freaked out about it as we were. Not at all. In fact, dare I say, there are things about this whole ordeal that are surprises (like food! Yay food! Yay hot food made for me!) to both of us. Nice surprises.

I love seeing Moose. Love it. We typically see each other for *maybe* an hour each day during the week, but usually it's closer to 30 minutes. And we're always rushed and stressed out and one of us (the short one) is usually a little, uh, ~~bitchy~~ grumpy.

Now, he's always here. We sit and talk before I leave for work. He texts me. Sometimes he even calls me. And when I get home, he's here. That is cool.

We laugh a lot. I like that.

The yahoos are wayyy calmer too.

But one of the best perks, besides the food, is...I have my own househusband!

IT ROCKS!

Even though he's still keeping his head down, a bored Moose is a very active Moose around the house. He dusts. He vacuums. He loads and unloads the dishwasher. He does laundry constantly.

I was all freaked out, thinking I'd be doing it all, and I've become the equivalent of a 1950's working man! I walk in the door and practically get handed a newspaper, a cigarette and a glass of rum.

It's awesome! I could get used to this.

Another new normal

2010-08-06T16:05:00.003-10:00

How does the saying go? The one about life and lemons and lemonade? Or how about the one that mentions God and not being given too much to handle?

Life took an unexpected left turn earlier this week, when Moose lost all vision in his right eye.

No shit.

He somehow detached his retina (again). This is the same eye that he injured 12 years ago in a basketball injury, so it's not a complete spontaneous bomb, but...it kind of is. Spontaneous blindness isn't, ah, normal.

I'm pretty sure his truck + bike = concussion accident two months ago probably has something to do with it. This is the same side of his head that bounced off the pavement, cracked his helmet and got all banged up. Maybe that started the rip in his retina and Steelhead somehow was the last straw. I suspect he didn't have vision when he finished the race, based on how whacked out he was acting -- and he kept it quiet to see if it would merely go away.

It didn't. He's 50% blind. Or 50% see-able, depending on my mood.

At least I get to realize my dream of being a seeing eye dog. I sort of suck at it though. Today he walked smack dab into a pole at the doctor's office before I could stop him.

This week has been a flurry of doctors visits, culminating in emergency surgery yesterday. He had a vitrectomy -- they took all of the fluid in his eye out, lasered the retina tear, froze it and filled his eye back up with a gas bubble.

The real shitty part about all of this is (and this is huge): he has to be in a face down position for, oh, TWO TO SIX WEEKS.

This dude isn't Rog, because he flipped out when I tried to snap a pic, but this photo perfectly demonstrates the ridiculousness of vitrectomy recovery:

He has to eat, sleep, sit, and "be" in this position 24/7 for weeks. He's stuck at home, can't work and can't drive.

It totally sucks ass. I feel helpless. He's irritable and tired and sore already.

But you know what? We're giving the universe the big middle finger and dealing with it.

We borrowed a massage table from an awesome friend. Our living room looks like a combination of a tent city and a mad scientist's lab. We've got mirrors strategically placed so he can watch TV. We've got part of the weight bench up here for an alternate position so he can sit up.

We'll figure it out.

I feel like I'm going through the gamut of emotions. At first I was scared and shocked and terribly sad. (I think this is the end of his IMFL dream.)

Today, driving to my 1/2 day at work, I was crazy angry and screamed at traffic (more than I usually do).

And of course selfish Ironman triathlete can't be forgotten, after all this is my crazy selfish Ironman thoughts blog. Why now? Why not in December? How am I going to do it all alone?

As much as I try to be pleasant and sweet and go with the flow and try not to think about me, me me, I'm really freaked out about training and fitting it all in, and I've been horribly short and snappy (PR for "bitchy") the past few days.

I'm completely overwhelmed. I have to mow the lawn. And do laundry. And go shopping. And make food for both of us (we usually do our own food thing). And play with the dogs. And take the trash out and go to work (which is crazy busy), and still train for an Ironman, and I just need to stop and calm down and do the best that I can, or I'm going to go nuts.

Just breathe.

On a positive note, we have each other, and we'll get through this too. That's what we do. And it's only temporary.

And tonight, well, tonight we're laughing at it, and getting used to another normal.

Ironman Steelhead 70.3 Race Report: Am I dreaming?

2010-08-01T15:06:00.015-10:00

Tri Cliff Notes Version for those of you who can’t read:

Dawn had a good day.

The unabridged version for those with ~~a little~~ two hours of spare time:

Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. If you wake me up, I will punch you.

So apparently this whole “not focused” thing is working, and working really well.

Steelhead 70.3 was Saturday, and would become my first “true” 70.3 because the first one I did (Steelhead ’08) morphed into a weird duathlon race day morning due to severe lake conditions.

It totally snuck up on me, as in, “Holy crap I have a half on Saturday!” I feel like I’m getting through my life one day at a time these days, so events a day or two out might as well be next year as far as I’m concerned. This is a complete 180 from typical me, but I’m just trying to keep my head above water and, hey, it seems to be working anyway.

We spent the entire weekend with our friends who have access to this sweet beach house.

We drove over Friday and Moose, Dan and I swam in the lake. It was perfect – very calm, perfect temps, clear, beautiful. Then we hopped on our bikes and rode a few miles to the town center where we were staying to check everything out.

We felt like aliens, riding our speedy bikes with our aero helmets on, and garnered quite a few stares from the tourists. I told Dan, “look like a pro” which is hilarious, because none of us looks remotely professional except Moose, but as I told Dan when
he pointed that out, “they don’t know that!”

Many laughs and hours later, we had our Wristbands of Awesomeness on, our bags backed and our bellies stuffed with whole grain pasta.

Moose and I had the loft bedroom in the house, which meant that we could see the heavens and earth without lifting our heads off the pillows. We awoke at 3:00 a.m. to thunder, lightning and lots and lots of rain.

I’d worked myself into quite a ball of stress as we got to the race venue – because of the rain. I hate riding in the rain – it scares me. Moose told me I didn’t have to race if I didn’t want to, but of course there was no way I was not going to race.

I set my transition up in pouring rain, and was so cold that my hands were blue, and I was shaking. I fought to put my wetsuit on half way to try to stay warm, and then found Moose to help me get into the rest of it.

I think the hardest thing I did all day was try to get that damn thing on while soaking wet!

Dan walked with me the 1.2 miles to the race start (point-to-point swim), and we ran into one of our swim buddies from Master’s and walked some with her. She’s trained her butt off, and I knew she’d have a great race. And she did!

I realized on the way to the swim that I…had my wedding rings on. I hardly ever wear them right now because they’re too big… and I never train or race in them. It's a fluke reason why I even had them on.

Are you effing kidding me?! Talk about not focused! Jesus! (@Q*#(&#Q* I looked to see if I could find my coach to pass them on to her, but my wave was entering the water as I made my way down the beach, so I’d just have to suck it up and try not to lose them. Damn it! This might be an expensive-er race.

Swim
The swim was a piece of cake. It was a non-event. No traffic, no panic attacks, no problems sighting. I followed my coach’s advice and took it really easy. In fact, I caught myself daydreaming several times, and only stopped 3 times to catch my rings. I couldn’t believe it when I reached the buoy for the turn to the finish.

I raced up the sand, trying to be as fast as possible without stroking out and simultaneously wrestled out of my wetsuit, and I mean that literally. We fought a good round, me and that suit. I could.not.get.it.off!

Finally, I was free and off and running with Dory – until the woman directly behind me flagged me down and pointed out that my chain was off. WHAT? How did that happen?

Zoikes! Fortunately I got it back on fairly quickly and, let’s do this again!

Bike
On the bike and it’s still raining and the roads are a mess, so I’m cautious. This is fine – I was supposed to take it easy on the bike anyway, and I figured this was all my coach’s doing. I’m pretty sure she made it rain on purpose so I’d slow down. It worked – I slowed down.

Following my success with races past this year, I rode with no bike computer or Garmin, but merely by feel. At about mile 10 or so, my coach zoomed past in the car and then tried chatting with me for about ten seconds.

I could never be a Tour rider because I couldn’t ride next to the car to get my bag of groceries or whatever it is they get from their support cars. It was great to see her out there, though, and actually calmed me down some. I settled in, made sure to take in my Perpetuem and drink, even though it was chilly and I wasn’t thirsty, and tried not to burn myself out.

This is the exact opposite of how I typically race.

The bike is my strength, so in my little head, riding as hard as I can is the way to go. But that wasn’t the plan. I trusted my coach and did as she said – took it easy, shifted into even easier when I felt the burn and used the downhills to my advantage.

After the first hour or so on the bike, it cleared up and my confidence grew, so I sped up some now that the roads were clear. It was a gorgeous day, and unlike the first time I did Steelhead, there were no packs of drafters anywhere to be seen.

Around mile 40 or so, I was done mentally with the bike. I’ve only ridden over 40 miles twice this entire year, so it didn’t really surprise me that I was ready to stop riding. I was a little uncomfortable, ah, from the saddle, too, and started looking for the markers placed every 5 miles. Oh, and I had to pee like a racehorse. I’d actually had to pee since before the swim, and the last 45 minutes or so on the bike were uncomfortable.

T2 was a fast one, and I was off and running fairly quickly for me.

Run
Quickly because by now I *really* had to pee. Like, it hurt now. I’m not really fast enough to warrant a golden shower mid-race, so I kept my eyes open for the first portapotty I could find. It came at like mile 1.5. Fortunately, there was no line! Aw, sweet relief.

Ok, back to business!

I knew I was running too fast and tried slowing down. I felt sooo good, though! I’ve never in my life felt so strong during a race. Usually by this point, I’m sick and doing a death march. I felt like I’d just started a Saturday jog!

BOOYA!!!!

There was one hill on the 2-loop course that I gave myself permission to walk up. It seemed the wisest choice – I could burn a lot of energy to go a little bit faster, or I could save it and walk up. So I walked.

Making the turn for loop two, I saw the Tri Smart tent and my teammates and my coach, and I screamed at her that I felt awesome – and I did! I knew that even if I slowed way down (which I wasn’t going to do) that I was going to have a ridiculously fast time for me. Like dreamland fast.

I couldn’t believe how great I felt.

The second loop was definitely tougher, but I never fell apart. With five miles to go, I could feel my legs starting to work. “Suck it up, buttercup” I said in my head. I focused on a faster cadence and keeping it together.

I walked the hill for the second time, and knew I had less than three miles to the finish.

Past the team tent again and a high five, and I was zooming! My legs were screaming at me, but I kept telling them to be quiet. There was no way in hell I was going to stop now. I put my head down and ignored the fire in my calves.

And then I was done, and with a time I’d never even let myself dream of. I felt great overall – legs were sore, but nothing worth drama over or anything.

We sat around and ate free Pizza Hut pizza. Is there anything tastier than the free food at the end of a long race? I doubt it. We then jumped in the lake in all of our race wear glory to cool off and get some of the gunk off. I was disgusting – I was caked in road grime.

Dory was too.

Sunday we chillaxed and spent all day at the beach, soaking up rays and playing in the water. As you can see from the pic below, we felt pretty good!

I can’t believe how well this year is going; I’m shocked at how well this race went. I mean, yeah, I worked for it, especially at the end of the run, but I never really bonked. I completely surprised myself, and I’m energized and excited to begin this last phase of training before Ironman Florida!

Details:
Swim: 35:30 1:52/100m
T1: 4:18
Bike: 2:48:07 19.99 mph
T2: 2:50
Run: 2:00:24 9:11/mile
Total: 5:31:09
Placement in AG: 21/20/20
Best race of my life, so far!

Conditions:
68 and rainy at the start
83 and sunny at the finish

Race Weight:
129.8 lbs. 17.7% bf

Bike energy: 520 calories of Perpetuem, 48 ounces of water
Run energy: 330 calories of Hammer gel, as much water and ice as I wanted, 1 cup of Gatorade at last aid station

Ponies and rainbows

2010-07-26T15:00:00.002-10:00

It was bound to happen sooner or later – I’d miss a workout. Or, in this case, I missed one complete workout and had one removed from the schedule.

In hindsight, it’s but a blip on my training calendar, but last week freaked me out a little bit --enough to blog about it.

After a good day at Evergreen, followed by working all day, lugging equipment and shooting video, I woke up with a very angry back last Sunday.

This happens periodically, so it’s not a big deal, except yoga didn’t fix it Monday like it tends to do. Swimming helped Tuesday, and I thought I was good to go, but then I sat all day at work, stiffened up nicely, and my damn toes on my right leg went numb. Er, number.

They’d been numb for several days, but I was ignoring it. Tuesday they just got worse.

One of the benefits of having hypochondria is that I have a doc on speed dial and was able to get in to see my magic shaman with one general look in his direction. He diagnosed me with piriformis and worked on the knot in my ass, told me how to take care of it and come back in a week, and sent me on my way.

So, five days later the toe numbness is gone and so is most of the pain in my ass. I have it under control, and was able to resume training this weekend without much of a problem.

I’m using that whole ordeal as a slap back to reality and an opportunity to refocus on the Ironman.

It sounds sort of crazy, because I’ve been training for Ironman Florida for 8 months now. I feel, though, that lately I’ve been racing a ton – short races – and doing a lot of speedy, but short training. I’m not doubting my coach or the plan at all (on the contrary, she friggin’ ROCKS, and I’m sooooo happy with everything) but I feel that mentally *I’ve* been a little bit distracted by “all the little stuff”.

That’s my bad.

So, I’m changing that, starting today.

We have 15 weeks until our race, which means a 12-week serious build and 3-week taper. (Give or take a week 'cause I can't count.)

This is it.

This is where I figure out how to fit the training in with my job, lose my weekends completely, handle the stress of it all, love my husband and dogs as much as I see them, sleep when I can, and not lose complete control of the house, the yard, my friendships, etc.

I have a 70.3 on Saturday and another one in 6 weeks. But no more sprints or Oly’s or running races or random swim races – time to hunker down and get this training done!

I’m setting goals to accomplish between now and race day:

One Day at a Time
I’ve started to freak out about the impending build in volume and time, and have gone back to basics and what’s gotten me through 8 months with one missed workout: Take it one day at a time or even one workout at a time. No need to stress out about the weekend when it’s only Tuesday. In fact, no need to wig out about Tuesday’s afternoon workout before I do Tuesday’s morning workout – just take it one session at a time. Or one 800 repeat. Or one step. Or one mile. Whatever it takes.

Follow the plan
I’m pretty good (great) at this, so just need to stick with it and follow it as closely as I can.

Nutrition/Weight
I’m at 130 lbs. and feel phenomenal, but I’ve slid a bit in my food monitoring. I’m not as strict as I was, because I’ve discovered once you reach goal weight, you can eat more. This is a dangerous place to be for me, so I’m back to journaling and counting calories and nutrition.

I want to race at 120 – 122 lbs. and ~ 15% body fat.

Is that a maintainable weight? No, it’s not, and I’m aware of this. That’s why it’s called race weight.

Moose will race at 175 – 178 and he’s 6’5. It’s funny – I feel a wee bit of a double standard here, but I’m trying to shrug it off -- like it’s perfectly OK for the guys to get uber lean.

And most of all – HAVE FUN!
Ponies and rainbows! Rainbows and ponies! (Thanks, Spy!)

I do this because I love it. I love the training, and this year I’m having a blast. I discovered a true love for swimming – never thought that was possible. Riding my bike is worthy of an entire Sunday for sure, and running has always been my first love.

It’s great fun to work with my coach and discover that hey, maybe there is something in here under all this mess after all.

Update. I present exhibit A: The snake

2010-07-22T02:28:00.002-10:00

See?

SNAKE!

Photo taken by the son of one of my tri team buddies, who was also in my wave.

Excuse me while I run screaming away. Again.

Evergreen Olympic Tri race report, or swims with snakes

2010-07-18T10:33:00.008-10:00

Yesterday was my first Olympic distance triathlon.

I know, get on your soapbox and rant about how I've created a small black hole somewhere in the universe by doing an Ironman before an Olympic. Gasp!

Keep going.

Mmmh. Hmmm. Right.

Done yet? Feel better?

Good, I'm glad you got that off your chest. :-)

I've always hated the 10K running distance, and to be honest, I'm not yet a big fan of the Olympic distance. I'll give it another chance, though, simply because yesterday here in the Midwest was an absolute inferno. If I'm gonna hate on the distance, I should at least hate on it fair and square. I believe it got up to 95, with a heat index in the low 100's with 200 million percent humidity, and I'd probably hate sitting on the front porch in those conditions, too.

Plus, I was distracted and tired before the race even started, weighted down by work responsibilities and facing the reality that I was supposed to be at work, shooting video in an outdoor venue of brimstone and fire, by 1 p.m. Awesome.

Play hard, work harder, right?

Moose and I got up at 3 a.m. and zipped the 1.5 hours south to race central. We knew before we even got there that water temps were 82, so no wetsuits. Fine, whatever. I don't need a wetsuit, I swim without one 99.9% of the time. Plus it might be a faster T1 if I'm not wrestling out of it.

Set up was stress-free and uneventful, and we got to chat with our friends. They're hilarious and calming at the same time. I love them.

I hopped in the water for a pre-race warm-up and instantly went into panic mode. WTF?! I thought I was over that, especially after Crystal Lake last week. I know what it is, though -- it's the level of murkiness in the water. This lake made Crystal Lake look, well, crystal clear. I couldn't see my hands out in front of me, it was so cloudy. I swam around a little more and forced my mind to calm the hell down.

That didn't last long.

As my wave entered the water to stand around for two minutes before our gun went off, at least one snake decided to join us, and I heard there were at least two. I'm not sure who freaked more, the W35-39 age group as a collective whole, or the poor little snake swimming with us.

Two things on earth make the hair on my neck stand up and my heart to jump out of my chest: spiders and...

snakes.

So much for a calm start.

Because I have no confidence and didn't know what to expect from the race, I started in the back, far side from the buoys. This was a mistake. I need to be more confident in my ability -- I was swimming through traffic the first 1/3 of the race - before reaching the wave that started ahead of me and beginning the process of weaving through another group all over again.

I never had clear water to just swim, the water was warm and the sun seemed to be in our eyes for most of the course - even with a triangle shape. I wanted out of the water. Badly. But I kept my coach's advice in my head -- to be conservative, no more than 80%.

About 100 meters from the finish, the faster swimmers from the wave behind me caught up, and they were crazy aggressive. I was aggressive back.

Here's the thing: if you are an ass in the water, I will be an ass back. You will not drown me.

Fortunately it was truly only maybe 100 meters, so the brutal boxing match was over after a couple of minutes.

I thought I did OK in T1, and breathed a sigh of relief as I headed out on Dory. I always have a sense of relief when the swim is over.

I didn't race with a computer on my bike -- as much of a techno geek as I am training, I'm Amish racing this year. Only had my simple Timex watch. I've discovered I like to race by feel. I can gauge 80% effort just fine on my own. Lately, I get caught up in mph and this can be bad if I feel like I should be going faster, faster, faster.

The bike was hot and windy and a little hillier than I was expecting, but not too bad. I wore my new Louis Garneau aero helmet and really like it. It looks incredibly dorky, even dorkier than my Rudy Project aero helmet, but it's quite comfortable and very light.

I didn't go all out on the bike, again - conservative per my coach. I drank my entire aero bottle of water, but maybe only 1/3 of my Perpetuem. When it's hot, I have no desire for calories. I hoped the race was short enough that this wouldn't bite me in the ass on the run.

I had no idea what my bike average was coming into transition.

T2 was slow: as soon as I stopped riding, I realized just how insanely hot it was. I took my time and poured water over my head, and put socks on because I wasn't sure how my Asics DS Trainers would do barefoot, and I chose them over my Zoots.

The run was brutal. Brutal, brutal, brutal. Not an ounce of shade anywhere. It was soooooo hot! I averaged over a minute per mile slower than my goal. It was frustrating -- I feel like I've been running really well lately, but...it was impossible to go any faster in the heat.

I walked each water stop and drank and poured water over my head and put one foot in front of the other.

I never wanted to quit -- which is good. Old Dawn would've just given up and walked on a day like this, so I'm taking that as a massive victory! Plus, I saw lots of my tri team out there and they were awesome. Bonding in hell as a team is a good thing.

I was disappointed after the race with my time and the day in general, and started gathering my stuff to get out of dodge and home so I could get to work. But, they had a lady sitting at a table and she asked me if I wanted my race results. I said sure -- and she handed me a slip of paper with all my data.

HOLY SHIT!!!

It said preliminary results: 3rd AG. I was in disbelief, and instantly pessimistic. I didn't really get third, it's a typo.

The women setting up in the transition area around me had been very serious and race ready, and I couldn't believe I'd placed in that group of people. (This race was the USAT Midwest Regional Championship race, and a qualifier for USAT Nationals. I found this out AFTER I signed up or I never would've signed up!)

And it's true: I did get 3rd in my AG! Of course I should asterisk that -- only 15 in my AG total.

My OA time was nowhere near my secret goal, and I'm disappointed with it, despite the AG placement. It seems silly that such a slow time qualified for Nationals, but I'm still wearing the t-shirt I got with my cowbell award anyway. :-)

And no, I'm not going to Nationals. We can't afford it, and I'm out of vacation time.

Splits:
Time: 2:48:17
Swim: 32:29 (1:59/100m)
T1: 1:59
Bike: 1:15:19 (20.7 mph)
T2: 1:46
Run: 56:51 (9:09/mile)

And finally, but nowhere near last, I have the best husband in the world. I still can't believe he married me. Once I got home, I literally showered, changed and was out the door to head to the shoot in 18 minutes. He unpacked the car and all of my disgusting race crap, cleaned it and put it away.

Crystal Lake OW Swim race report

2010-07-11T02:08:00.004-10:00

Why yes, in case you’re wondering, that is bling in my happy little paw. (And for the uber observant, why yes, yes that is a Chiquita banana sticker on my shirt.)

And no, no I didn’t:

Buy it
Steal it
Find it
Make it myself
Or Photoshop it in

Nosiree!

I earned that bad boy.

Ahem.

Are you sitting down?

I earned it SWIMMING.

Feel free to faint, ‘cause I know I did!

The only other bling I’ve ever carted home came from a running race during which I was the only one in my category. It was a huge ass trophy that the pups have since destroyed. Oh, and I got 2nd in my AG once in a sprint tri a few years ago, but again, it was a fluke. No one showed up to race because it was, like, snowing and I didn’t stick around to see if I placed (I never place), so no hardware.

So, boo-YA!

2nd place AG at Crystal Lake 2-mile OW swim
OA time: 57:43

This is a 22+ minute PR over last year!

Ok, yeah, so last year I’d only swimmed like 5,000 meters all year, and this year I’m up to 92+ miles of swimming already – so there’s that. And last year I was a fat-ass, unhappy, sick triathlete, so there’s that too. And my $500 wetsuit finally fits, so there’s that.

But mostly I think it goes back to the 92+ miles of swimming to date. Yeah, that might have something to do with it.

I knew the minute I entered the water for my warm-up that I was going to have an awesome day. I felt great. The water was calm. I had my ear plugs in, and I just felt good! I felt very strong and everything was clicking.

I seeded myself in the middle/left of the pack, on the outside of the buoys – which were to our right. Normally I hang out in the very, very, very back and try to avoid everyone and everything since I don’t really like people, particularly in a mass boxing match. Except now I’m so used to having feet in my face and arms flung at me that being in a pack of swimmers isn’t nearly as terrifying as it used to be. I can punch and kick with the best of them.

I mentally broke the race up into 4 sections: out, back, out, back.

The first out was fighting for space and getting used to the water. For the first time, I did not have a panic attack! I didn’t go nuts at all!

The first back was the most difficult – the sun was directly into our eyes, and I swear we were swimming against the current, even though we were heading towards shore.

My game plan – I had a super-secret game plan and goal time – was to swim the first mile conservatively, swim the 3rd leg moderately hard and swim the last leg as fast as I could.

As I headed out on the 3rd leg/beginning of mile 2, someone kept brushing my feet, and would.not.go.away. It didn’t take me long to realize I had a drafter! ME! A drafter! Hahahahahahaha!

Oh, if Svetlana or Natasha or Anna or whatever the name of my first hired swim teacher was could see me now! (She’s the one who told me in broken but stern English that there was, “so much wrong with my stroke she didn’t know how to fix me.”)

I stuck to the plan and picked up the pace, rounded the last outward buoy and headed for home. The last leg wasn’t as bad as it was on the first loop. The sun had shifted some and, well, it just seemed better. I picked up the pace even more and was breathing pretty hard, but still swimming well – good form and all.

I wanted to be done and out of the water. When I could see I only had two more buoys to go, I thought of every single 50m and 25m sprint I’d done in the pool this year where I wanted to puke from swimming so hard.

I swam until my hands hit ground and the finish was like right there!

I forgot to stop my watch right away, but looked down and saw a sub 60:00 swim. Holy crap! Last year I swam this in 1:19:xx and was 2nd from last in my AG.

My super secret goal was 1:05 – 1:07, so I smashed that. Even if (as I suspect) the course was a wee bit short – I still blew my time way. Add 5 minutes and I’m still wayyyyyy faster than I was last year.

This is kinda cool.

Pass the food. All of it.

2010-06-29T11:00:00.002-10:00

So, of course I love talking about food as much as I like eating food.

My intake volumes are astounding right now. I’m hungry as I write this. I’m always hungry. Always. I don’t remember being this ravenous in previous Ironman endeavors, but then again, I’ve never trained like this. Or maybe I was, and I just forgot.

While I’m not dropping weight like crazy anymore, I’m still heading on a downward trend overall (it’s slowed considerably), and I suspect my BF% is getting lower. I’d like to get even leaner, but now I walk the fine line between “lean enough” and “oops, went too far.” I hover between 131 and 133 on the scale, except when I run too far with not enough water in hot and humid. Then I dip into the 120's. I’d like to drop 10 more pounds, but I’m not going to force it. If I raced Florida tomorrow at this weight, I’d be perfectly happy.

Some of the, ah, more generationally advanced peeps at work have a collective concern. They corner me and quietly ask me if I’m OK and if I’m trying to lose the weight, to which I respond (in a matching whisper), “Yes”. Funny, I don’t remember anyone asking me last year if I was OK, and I was stoned off my rocker 24/7 for months.

People also frequently ask me what I eat, so here’s a normal day for me. My estimate is all of the food below is approximately 2800 calories and about 100 g of fat. Holy buffett, Batman!

My eats during the week, on a 2-workout day. I don’t eat as much for a single workout day:

Pre-swim: banana and some Coke Zero

During swim: Xtend drink (it’s a bodybuilding drink, but I love the taste of it. Zero calories, lots of BCAA’s. It’s yummy!)

Post swim: I usually have a homemade Egg McMuffin
1 egg (made with Pam spray)
1 whole wheat English Muffin
1 slice of 2% Singles à which I know is crap nutritionally, but I like it and don’t need to use butter if I have this, so it wins. At only 45 calories, I can’t beat it.

Alt Breakfast if I’m in a hurry or out of eggs:
Homemade protein smoothie:
50% less sugar orange juice or cranberry juice
1 scoop protein powder, frozen mango or berries

Mid-morning Snack: 1 oz. salted almonds (24) and 2% cheese stick

Mid-Mid morning Snack: I go into dramatics this point, crying and sobbing at my desk, *positive I’m going to pass out or die of hunger every single day* before bumming a granola bar off my friend Marsha. The chewy kind. Which reminds me, I owe her like 45 granola bars.

Lunch: I’m into homemade turkey wraps right now.
1 whole wheat tortilla
Ground turkey
hummus spread on tortilla for a condiment
tomato or two and cucumber slices TASTY!
1 cup brown rice
banana
And yogurt. Yoplait regular (red container).

But I also bring: cans of vegetarian chili or a turkey brat and some veggies or leftovers from Chipotle or tuna and crackers.

Mid-afternoon Snack: I’m totally out of food at this point (again), so I break down and have a large diet Mountain Dew and a Twix bar. Sigh. I know. (Hangs head in shame). Total nonsense but completely irresistible.

Pre-workout #2 Snack: HUMMUSSSSSSSSSS! A recent blood analysis revealed that I’m 10% A+ blood, 10% Chipotle+ and 80% hummus, red pepper+. I eat as much as I want, but keep in mind I have a workout to do, so no belly busters. Usually I consume this with tortilla chips or whole wheat crackers.

Workout #2: This is usually longer and harder than swim – and up to 2 hours in duration. Kicks my ass on a regular basis. I consume Hammer gels, Xtend and water during these workouts.

Dinner: Is whatever I can stuff into my face. I try to keep it as healthy as possible, but I’m also trying to shower and get to bed. I don’t eat dinner until 8:30 or 9 at night. It could be those steamer veggies and some sort of grilled meat, or Chipotle (salad/no dressing), whole wheat pasta w/ Prego sauce…whatever. If I’m really tired and lazy, I’ll eat a frozen dinner or frozen pizza.

Pre-bed Snack: Skinny cow ice cream! Love these! I have either the cone or the sandwich. LOVE them.

Friday: Fridays are my “Fat Friday” Day. I eat anything I want, including wings or French fries or big, juicy cheeseburgers.

Sat/Sun: Relax a little bit. It’s much harder to eat 9 zillion times during the weekends, so I eat bigger quantities, but less meals. And we eat out a ton. I try to keep myself in check. I do OK. Oh, and beer – 2 a week limit right now. Sad, I know, but one bottle knocks me out.

Are you going to eat that?

I'm not afraid

2010-06-26T02:25:00.003-10:00

This is my official personal training song for IMFL 2010:

Music is a huge part of my Ironman training. I ran like Forrest Gump in college (often and far), always alone and always with my thoughts. But then I met Moose, and he introduced me to the power of music. At the time the delivery method of choice was those chunky, square yellow Sony cassette players. Then they got am/fm radios on them. Then they became circular CD players, and now -- now I'm on, like, my 7th iPod.

Obviously, I like my music.

Most of the time I use it as a distraction -- better than dissociation and developing multiple personalities, yes?

But I also use it for motivation. When we began this Ironman journey 3 years ago, I was really into country music and Tim McGraw's, "How Bad Do You Want It?" got me through many long rides and runs. Plus, just the power of the message was gospel to me: am I willing to lay it all out on the line? Why yes, yes I am.

My music choices are also an insight into my psyche.

In 2008, I was burnt out, fat, unmotivated and completely not into training. My song then? McGraw's, "Back When". It's about how things used to be much better back in the day. And a great indicator of just how not plugged in I was. I wanted to be 8 again, drinking lemonade and running around the farm on a hot, muggy summer day.

No race in '09 means no song, but my friend Dan chose the Black Eyed Peas' "I Gotta Feeling", so I sort of adopted that. But it's his song and not mine.

Which brings us to 2010, getting ready to ramp it up in a few months for Ironman Florida. Time for a new theme song.

I fell in love with Eminem's, "I'm Not Afraid" the first time I heard it.

I'm NOT afraid.

I guess I had to go to that place to get to this one
Now some of you might still be in that place
If you're trying to get out, just follow me
I'll get you there