Looking Cool at the Pool

I am noticing some pictures no longer display correctly below, although the pictures and their paths are perfectly fine.  I guess my blog is broken.  I keep saying I am going to move it to my mom's server anyway, but then I get lazy, so I suppose this is good motivation.

You know what else is good motivation?
An awesome bathing suit.

Let me provide a brief back story:
Awhile back, I left my swim suit crumpled up in a wet ball inside my gym back.  The next day (or few days?) later, it thwarted my plan to swim when I found there.  Still in a ball.  And still very wet.

Now, we all know that I am not much a of swimmer, and ideally I use any excuse available to avoid the pool.  But, I do have moments where I convince myself that I am just strokes away from becoming a brilliant swimmer and find myself pumped up at the pool.  I must have been going through one of those phases because I was quite disappointed that my suit was wet and icky and not suitable for wearing.

I figured if I dried the bathing suit, it would get rid of some of the "ick" factor.  I knew from past experiences that putting it in the drier would ruin it.  So then I thought, "But a hair dryer would work!"  only to remember that I do not own a hair dryer.

And then I saw the space heater.

I left my bathing suit draped over the space heater and left the room....and about 5 minutes later, the space heater started beeping  very loudly and the house started to smell like burnt plastic.  It wasn't plastic though. It was my  bathing suit.

The good news is I did not burn down the house. The bad news is my bathing suit had a hole right over the nipple.

I have been known to buy some horrific bathing suits (like the padded one-piece I found on clearance at the mall that was surely meant for a 70-year old with saggy boobs vacationing in Vegas) but even I knew this bathing suit had to go in the trash.

Still determined to swim, I went to Target to score a cheap suit.  It was too close to summer though because the clearance swim suits were gone and replaced with their new "sports illustrated" line of suits. Unwilling to pay $40 for something that did not have any straps, I opted for a black bikini with boy shorts from the Girls department.  At least it had straps!!

It also had ruffles.  And a bow.

Luckily for me, after a few weeks and a few shameful swims, Coeur sports came to the rescue and provided me with a super cute, super appropriate, super comfortable bathing suit, which I just love.  LOVE.

I mean, you really have to love a bathing suit to post pictures of yourself, on the internet, in said bathing suit.

It makes me want to go to the pool.  It even makes me want to go swimming!   The pattern is really cool, too - it is made up of little foxes.  It took me awhile to realize this.  Can you see the foxes?

I promise that I am going to treat this bathing suit with respect that it deserves.

• I am not going to leave it in wet, moldy ball in my gym bag.  
• I am  not going to put it in the dryer.
• I am not going to place it on the space heater or set it on fire or run my car over it.

I am also going to fix my blog.

And lastly, I am going to swim.

Maybe getting Motivated?

The first few weeks of 2014 have been very good weeks, but also very busy, leaving me very overwhelmed.  I had brief thoughts about abandoning my blog, which is unlike me because I have kept a written account of my life starting at age 5.

Growing up, our household "tooth fairy" was an enchanting oddball.  Instead of leaving dollar bills under my pillow, she left me presents.  I only remember two, specifically. Once there was a silver dollar and beaded bracelet.  And once there was a white diary, with a big pink rainbow heart on the cover, and pink lined paged protected by a combination lock.  I wrote in my diary almost daily, filling the pages with barely intelligible scribble about Kindergarten drama.  And now, I have an entire plastic crate in my closet of journals sitting in my office closet, recounting every heartache, strife and hormonal spike of my adolescence.

I really thought by 2014 that I would be motivated to race.  I even signed up for a 10 mile trail race.  The race happened two weeks ago.  Or was it three weeks ago?  Regardless, race day seemed to appear out of nowhere.  Months of being sick left me unprepared.  Even considering trying to race 10 miles was laughable, yet I considered it anyway.

I wisely decided to drop down to the 9K (which was roughly 6 miles).  I told myself I would just "run for fun" but when the race started, I saw kids at the front of the start.  Knowing that this trail would get narrow, I did not want to get stuck behind kids, so I too, started in front.

 

This made me the leading female, which always stresses me out.   At first, I was worried that I started too fast, but after about 10 minutes, the trail started to get technical and the constant uphills and downhills took my mind away from the race.  I was trail running - I was loving it.

I did end up winning the race, and ended up only three seconds away from a course record.  I could have easily ran three seconds faster - at least that leaves me with a goal for next year.  It also leaves me with my first trophy of this year, and perhaps the most unique trophy that Aravapai has given me yet:

 

But the last few weeks have been a reminder that I cannot do it all.  Between all my commitments, I have not had ample energy to focus on anything extra.  I  have yet to do any speedwork or any double-digit runs, nonetheless bike or swim.

Until yesterday, I rolled out of bed at 6am and had this weird idea to go to the pool.  It was around 45 degrees outside, yet the swimming pool was packed.  I placed myself in front of the last available lane.  I sat down next to my bag and took out my Zoomers, swim cap and goggles.  I turned on my Garmin.  I started to unzip my husband's fleece hoodie that covered my bikini.  The cold air on my bare belly promptly brought me to a very awake, and very alert state.

I looked at the people swimming laps to my right, and then I looked at all the people swimming laps to my left, and then I looked at my own empty lane in front of me. 

 "Oh, Crap!!" I said.  

And yes, I said it out loud.

Only then, at that moment, did I really realize what I was doing.  And now there I was, goggles in hand, at the pool.

But the thing is, even though I made that choice half asleep, I still made a choice to go swimming.   I could have went running. Or back to bed.  But I went to the pool.  That is a hopeful sign of emerging motivation.  And, a good enough reason for a  blog entry.

The Never Ending Question

It is always bitter sweet when triathlon season ends.

On one hand, it is very freeing to be relieved of the pressure of finding time to go to the pool and hop on my bike.   I can do what I want to do, and that is way I prefer to do things.

But, on the other hand, I get easily bored.

I like having goals.

So, after a week or two of puttering around, it always begs the questions:  What should I do Next?

This is why I was quick to sign on to run a half-Ironman-distance relay race.  I was stoked to get the chance to participate in one last triathlon of the season, even if it was just for a portion.  Only after the fact that it dawn on me that 13 miles is quite far.   It has been nearly 2 years since I last tackled that distance. And, with only three weeks to train, I wasn't left with much time.

For this reason, I opted to sit out at first trail race of the season on Sunday in lieu of a long run.  I am so lucky though that I have a side job that enables to be involved, even when not participating.  

I love the mountains.  I love being around others who also love them.  Like, my friend Angie.   Angie is perhaps one of the most talented athletes I know so I took the opportunity to run with her  the last few miles of the race.  

She said (without me even asking) that I should focus on running for the rest of the season.  This is exactly what I wanted to hear!!!!

But with my intercostal muscle being nearly fully recovered, I can't shake that nagging voice in my head to keep swimming.

Last year I was determined to "train my weakness."  I swam all winter.

In Arizona, it sounds reasonable.  But, the desert does get cold. 

I hate being cold.

I ask myself, Was it worth it?

I've had some frustration with a general lacking of personal bests, however I repeatedly took time off of my swim.  I also won two races - so, in that regards, the hours in the pool have paid off.  Maybe I just need to continue being patient.

I hate being patient as much as I hate being cold.

I need to contemplate this issue.  While I do this, I am going to shift focus onto my kids.

After a summer of being held hostage to sweltering heat, I dare say my kids are teetering on the brink of becoming couch potatoes.  I am trying to re-introduce them to outdoor activities, it is just proving to be a time consuming project, as documented in this rather lengthy video of attempting to get to the end of the street.

Lifetime Sprint Triathlon

I almost did not make it to this race.

You know that strained lat muscle I mentioned below?
It turned out to be a strained intercostal muscle.  Which turned out to be a pretty big deal.

I never knew this muscle existed until I hurt it - but now I know it is involved in everything.  It hurts to laugh, cough, roll over, sit up, and pick up my kids.  It hurts to breathe and hurts to sleep.  It hurts to open car doors, heavy stores doors, and the house door while also carrying 15 plastic bags of groceries.  It hurts to turn my bike.  And, mostly, it hurts to swim.

When I hit the one week mark without seeing any signs of improvement, I started to accept I would not race my last triathlon of the year.  In some ways, I did not care.  Because of my foot injury and Hood2Coast recovery, my mileage was low and my speed work was sparse.  I felt slow and sluggish.

This carried over to the bike.  In fact, my legs felt so powerless on my bicycle, I took it to see Mr. Bikeman.  "Something must be wrong with my bike", I complained.  "Maybe I need a new one."  It seemed obvious to me the best way to get out of my slump was to find myself on sleek, sexy, out-of-my-price range, TT-bike.

Mr. Bikeman was fast to say, "You absolutely do not need a new bike.  This is a great bike."

Whatever.  It is a road bike.  And it old.  And ugly.  I want a pretty bike!

"This bike would look pretty if you cleaned it more often," was his predictable response.  And then Mr. Bikeman cleaned some grime out of the cockpit and lectured me on my peddle stroke.

But, running and cycling issues aside, most of my summer was focused in the water.
When I thought about the hours, the boredom and the frustration that I invested, I cared about this last race quite a bit.  Otherwise, all those Master practices would have been for nothing.

It was not until the day before the race that I decided my injury had improved enough to endure a half-mile swim.  And even then, it was with a lack of certainty.  And after a two-week swimming hiatus, I now lacked confidence as well.

I felt so nervous getting into the lake water on race day.
I felt more nervous as I floated among the large wave of red swim caps (ladies under 40).  It was so crowded our bodies brushed together.

As always, the start was brutal.  Limbs frantically flew everywhere, including my own.  After a few minutes of chaos, I settled into a rhythm, relieved that I remembered how to swim.  But it was crowded the entire time.  It was windy and the water was choppy.  Sometimes I gasped for air and wound up with a mouthful of toxic lake water.  It became about survival.  Who cared about technique?

My swim time was 14:03, which a PR for the distance.  It was a top swim time, too, so maybe the course was long.  (I like to believe the swim course is always long).

My T1 transition was unpracticed and clunky.  My spot was in the back of the very large transition area.  It was going to be slow no matter what - so yeah, I took my time.  And  a shot of apple cider vinegar to kill the lake demons.


Eventually, I ran my bike out of transition and realized I had to run further than usual in order to mount.  The mounting spot was across the parking lot!  This added nearly a whole minute to my bike time.  But, I felt great on the bike.  The course had many very tight turns and multiple u-turns.  It was crowded, making it challenging to pass.  My overall bike time was a little slow (just shy of 35 minutes), but my cycling time (from mount to dismount) was pretty good (just under 34 minutes).  Not a PR, but also not too shabby for a road bike.

My T2 transition was less-slow than T1.  I grabbed a small electrolyte-induced water bottle for the run.  The goal was to use this water instead of the water stations.  But as soon as I started running, the water started splashing out.  It was a cheap, plastic mini-water bottle with a cheap, plastic sprout.  At about a half mile, I realized I barely had any water left.  I drank the remaining drops.

It was a beautiful day, but still September and still warm.  I was thirsty.  Since I am incapable of drinking from a cup while running, I had to stop at both water stations.

I knew by stopping twice I was not going to break 20-minutes on the run.  But, I did not know that I was in the first place female position.  What a treat to find that out as I crossed the finish line.  I won!

In most ways, I felt stoked because I like winning stuff.  Although, my kids were rather unimpressed (as usual):

and more impressed with the food, (as usual):

In another little way, I feel embarrassed because my winning time is so slow compared to other typical winning times.  It is even 75-seconds slower than my PR.  Before this race I said that I didn't feel my fastest, but I felt the most well-rounded. And that is true:  I didn't win this race by being really good in the run, I won by being equally decent at all 3 events.  And, of course, by luck.  No matter what, a win is always partially contributed to pure luck that no one faster was there.  Because at my level, there is always someone faster.  Just sometimes they are doing bigger, badder things.

Or sleeping.

General Update about Stuff

The kids went to their annual doctor appointment where it was confirmed that they are indeed  taller and heavier than they were the previous the year.

So we have been busy doing BIG KID things.  For example, Brenna and I tried ice skating.  This was a good idea in theory.   It was less of a good idea when I realized I had no idea how to stop and suggested that we just "bang into the wall." 

They are also training for their next race.
So far we do not have the best track record.  During their first race, they sat down and screamed.  And then their second race was canceled due to rain.

Training thus far is trying to make it around the block.  Going around the block can be tedious because there are just so many things to pick up.  Like rocks.  And twigs.  And trash.  And abandoned chewed gum.

And as for me, I have been happily running and persistently swimming.  In fact, I swam 21 miles in August.  For me, that is a lot of miles in a pool.  I was at a pool almost every day!  Even in a lapse of childcare, I still went to Masters.  Thank goodness for computers, tablets and phones and $2 episodes of My Little Pony.

I feel like I should be a good swimmer.  I have crazy long arms and big hands.  Like a monkey.  But, also like Michael Phelps.

But apparently having nearly freakishly sized limbs does not help you at all if you cannot figure out how to control  them.  My elbow does not bend enough.  My hips do not rotate enough.  My wrist bends at the wrong time.  I take too many stokes.  Bla. Bla. Bla.

I strained my lat muscle though so for now, I can only run.  I cannot swim.
I CANNOT SWIM!!!

The injury did not happen in the pool, or even near the pool.  It happened in yoga class, while attempting a forearm stand.

This is my second yoga-related injury.
Who knew yoga could be so dangerous?

Then again, I seem to rather accident prone (Brenna should probably re-think ever going ice skating with me again).  I even ran my car into my own house.  Aside from 9-year old Stephanie Tanner, who does that?

Ah yes, the same person who injures themselves in yoga class.

Queen of the Mountain

There are a lot of mountains in Arizona.

On a good weekend, I find myself on top of one of them.

On a great weekend, I find myself on top of multiple of them.

Saturday started off with a 4-mile trail race.  It was a small (100 participants) and free(!) event.  Aside from its price tag, there were a few other selling points:

1) Everyone was allowed to run in a test pair of trail shoes.  As many of you know, I have a thing for shoes. 

2) It was a trail system I had yet to explore.

3) The fastest woman would be named, “Queen of the Mountain.”  I have always wanted to be queen of something. 

Like most trail races, the race started with a sprint to a single-track trail.  The first mile was a slight uphill, with a little dips to keep you interested.  At Mile 2, there was sharp turn and a huge increase in grade.  The trail, a series of switchbacks, steeply continued all the way up the mountain.  When we reached the peak, the trail quickly brought us back down.  Fancy footwork was required.  

I love running up mountains and had little doubt that I would be dubbed queen.  I got a gift card but unfortunately, no royal sash.

  

"My" mountain is only a few miles away from where I grew up – although I have very little memory of that early in my life, I do recall my parents taking me hiking in the surrounding areas.  I sorta remember whining and complaining.  I also sorta remember having fun.  I definitely remember the time we climbing up a mountain and a naked man came running down.  I am so glad that my parents made me climb mountains when I was small because it helped enable me to run up mountains today.

I pay that forward to my kids, especially Hayden since he inherited my love for mountains.  Or, maybe he just loves all the dirt.  But regardless, I took him up his own mountain later that day.

The next day, I found myself on the bottom of a different mountain - in a lake, to be specific.  It was gorgeous.  At least at first glance.

But, the water was cold.  And choppy.   

It made my nose and ears hurt. It made me really dizzy.

After surviving the swim, I reluctantly remained with my group for the bike ride.  The only place to ride our bikes was on the road – up the mountain.  For 10 miles, we slowly rode our bikes up a hill that never seemed to end.  Eventually, the pavement ended instead.

I like uphills.  

But unfortunately, what goes up must come down….and I hated every second of the down hill.  At one point, I got off my bike and decided to walk.  But then I realized that would take hours.

I feel like I have the most control over my bike when peddling.  The issue on a steep downhill is peddling makes me go faster, which I know most cyclists love, but I start hyperventilating at 30mph.  I lose focus, as well as any confidence in any cycling skills that I possess.  I start to scream profanities into the wind and develop a rage for every deceiving blind curve that deludes you into thinking you are almost down.  But then you descend around the corner and discover -- you are not.  You are not even close.

My bicep starting to ache from riding my break - Who even knew that breaking required bicep strength?  My forearm hurts, too.  It hurts to type this.

This ride did confirm something I already knew about mountain though:

I love going up them.

I hate coming down.

Marquee Olympic Triathlon

As some may remember, I did the Sprint distance last year.

Last year, I struggled on the swim and did awesome on the run.

This year, I improved my swim but also drank the lake water.  After last weekend, this was my biggest fear.

Race day morning started off rather splendidly.  I fluttered around, like a little social butterfly, and did not arrive to the swim start until my wave was almost entering the water.  I saw my Dad, who had been looking for me. He held my goggles while I put on my wetsuit.  I turned so that he could zip me up only to realize my zipper was in the front.  It was backwards.

My wave started entering the water as my Dad and I frantically pulled off my backwards wetsuit.  I put it on correctly and was the last person to enter the water.  30 seconds later, we started.

Everything was fine for awhile until I noticed that some people were swimming under one section of the bridge and others were swimming under a different section.  Perhaps this was user error, but I also do not think the sighting buoys were lined up accurately.  I swam Tarzan-style while I tried to figure out where I was supposed to swim.  I eventually said, "I am so confused...." and a helpful lifeguard instructed me where to swim. A lot of people were swimming the wrong line.  You can see in this photo that everyone is on the wrong side of the yellow buoy.

 Although once I corrected my positioning, I felt like I got into a rhythm.  Even though people explained that I had to fully exhale after each breath to avoid swallowing bacteria-infested lake water, one week was enough time to enforce this new habit.  I still gasped for air.  I still swallowed.

I became more aware of my breathing style when I started belching.  While I do think I corrected it, I also think it was too late.  But I knew the best thing I could do was forget about it.

I finished the swim in 28:57 - almost an entire minute slower than last week.  But, everyone had relatively slow swim times so even though I know say this after every race, I think the course was long.  I was the 15th-20th female out of the water (out of 133).  Unlike last year, my transition was a non-issue.

The bike course was tedious.  There were six tight u-turns and at least a dozen tight corners.  There were a few hills, but a corner at the end of each down hill.  This course required as much skill as fitness.  And luckily, I have focused on this aspect of cycling with one of the best in the state.  I was amazed how everyone moved so far left before making a right-hand turn.  I used that to my advantage and passed many people by taking a shorter line.  

Last week, we did a 2-hour lesson on properly standing on your bike.  When you do this, you use your body weight to pull your bike.  Since this course had so many moments of accelerations, I was constantly standing.

The course was slightly different from last year - each loop was exactly 14 miles - the Olympic distance did the loop twice.  My pace was almost exactly the same as last year though...21.5 mph.  But, that was fast enough to be the 4th fastest bike split among the amateurs.

But, the moment I got off my bike, I felt the repercussions of my swim.  It did not feel good.

I told myself I was fine.  I really believed that I would be fine after I got things moving.

I ran the first mile okay.  The second mile was okay, too.  My stomach was really tight and crampy, but I just focused on my running form.  Mile 3 is when I started to walk.  It just hurt so bad.  Still, I did not walk often.  And then I reached Mile 4.  It totally felt like some mutant lake-seaweed baby was trying to rip my abs open.  Every few minutes I had to stop and walk.  I wanted to puke.  I wanted to fart.  I wanted ANYTHING to relieve the pain and pressure.

A little past Mile 4, I got passed by two girls.  I knew they were coming but I also knew I was in serious pain.  They both looked so graceful as they ran passed me.  I suspect that is how I looked last year when I was running 6-minute miles.  This year, I looked anything but graceful.  People quit cheering for me and instead looked at me with concern.  Even when I could see the finish line, I still could not run more than 30-seconds at a time.

I finally sprinted through the chute and collapsed, with a shameful 10K time that I don't even want to talk about.

 But, I finished.  And, placed 5th overall and first in my age group.  Nonetheless, it was humbling run.

After the race, someone advised putting a shot glass of apple cider vinegar in transition.  That way, I can gulp it immediately and supposedly, it will kill the lake bacteria.

I have always had a sensitive stomach so it does not shock me that I cannot digest duck poop, algae and decomposing dead tilapia.  It actually makes apple-cider vinegar sound like a refreshing cocktail.

1500 Meter Open Water Swim

I never thought I would do a swim race that did not reward me with a run at the end.  But unlike last year, a run was not included.  Otherwise, it was very similar:  I ran into my old best running buddy again.  The lake was gross again.  I forgot anti-fog again.

This distance was a little farther this year (1500 meters) and I was a little faster this year (27:04) but considering how much work I have put in at the pool, I am not sure I am pleased with the investment of time.

And okay, okay...maybe I have not gone to the pool that much in the past month, but I was at Masters during the winter when it was 40-degrees and raining. 

The thing is, open-water swimming is much different than pool-swimming.  When you stand in the lake on race day and peer into the distance to sight your turn-around buoy, it always looks so far away.  This course was two 750-meter laps but yet it looked intimidatingly and frustratingly far.

I am tempted to point out that the shirtless man standing a mere few feet behind me is a South African gold medal Olympic swimmer with a really awesome accent.  But anyway, I still could not believe I paid money to subject myself to swimming in this gross lake.

When spotting a camera, I managed to smile.  But even I could not make it look convincing.

My friend, who won the race in a mere 20 minutes, is also in this picture.  She claims it's "no big deal" because she has "been swimming her whole life."   When the race started, I was kicked and hit and a few bodies literally swam over me.  It was a crowded and unpleasant start for those of us not in front.  I immediately took the opportunity to blame my mother.  Maybe if she did not let me quit swim team when I was young kid, I could swim in the front with my friend.

Although, in my mother's defense, it would still have been unlikely.  I suspect my friend liked swimming when she was young.  I bet she was very good at it.  I bet she wanted to go to practice every morning.

I know I was not born to be a swimmer.  I was born to be a trail runner who dabbled in road running.  But before triathlons, I was riddled with injury all the time.  If I want to run for the rest of my life,  swimming in this gross is lake is simply what I need to do, even if I am never able to finish in 20 minutes.

After the pandemonium thinned out, I concentrated on my stroke.  Stroke Stroke breathe left - stroke stroke breathe right. Spot.  Stroke stroke breathe left - stroke stroke breathe right. Spot.  It was very boring.

But finally, I finished!  7th place, out of 42 females.  

After the race, I was horribly bloated.  It hurt to breathe.

I need to figure out how to not swallow air and water when gasping for my life.

Weather Woes

It's pretty hard to complain about the Arizona weather in  the winter - the forecast varies from "Sunny with a Chance of Clouds"  to "Sunny with a Chance of Three Clouds."  We've been spending a lot of time outside, climbing mountains and stuff.

However, every once in awhile, the weather goes astray.  When this happens, it becomes the top story on the news and the headline of every paper:  Weather Forecast is Changes!

First, it was cold.  Maybe not cold compared to the rest of the country, but cold considering I do not own running pants and that I require a sweater for anything under 75 degrees.

If I don't own running pants, it's safe to say the kids do not own running pants so this put a damper on everyone's training.  After suffering through multiple runs that left my hands so frozen it hurt to bend my fingers, like a fool, I decided to try riding my bike.  Of course I do not own cold-weather cycling clothes, so I did my best to improvise with a hair band across my nose, fuzzy socks for leg warmers and non-fuzzy socks for arm warmers:

After the horrible cold spell, the rain clouds appeared.  Rain in Arizona usually resembles the burst of a water balloon - immediately intense but a quickly empty sky .  If it rains on a Saturday morning, you will be running or riding your bike by noon.

Except not last Saturday.  It was raining heavily when I woke up around 7am.  So, I waited.  At 9am, I was surprised that it was still raining heavily.  So, I waited some more.  By noon, it was still raining!  So, I surrendered to the sky and rescheduled my run for Sunday.

Sunday was also the big race day for the kids - but unfortunately, the rain clouds did not clear.  The race was canceled.

One thing about a missed race, or even a bad race, is that there is always another race.  The kids have an  upcoming 300-yard dash.  I remain unattached, but have a tentative 8 races planned for the next two months.

And so training continues.

After the cold front, and the rain, came the worst - the wind.

I  try not to let the elements dissuade me so on Monday, I battled the wind on bike and tackled it on Tuesday for speedwork.  The planned workout was 3 x 6 minutes @ 5K effort.  After studying the wind during my warm up, I placed myself on the cross-cut canal, which by coincidence, was hit by a cross wind.  My first 6 minutes were erroneously 5:10 (@ 6:07 pace).  It felt good.  My next 6 minutes (and 10 seconds) were at 5:59 pace.  It felt good.  My last six minutes were 5:10 again (the wind had picked up and I got tired) @ 6:07 pace again.  Ended with 2:10 x 2 (@ 5:55 pace).  So, 20:40 and 3.45  miles worth of "speed."  Better than last week and my first sub-6 mile in many months.

I wish improving in the pool was as simple as improving on my feet.  But I will save a whiny swim post for a rainy day.

Still not an Ironman

Every year I spectate the local Ironman.  I usually know a handful of people participating.

Every year I  find it to be an interesting phenomenon how people cheer on the Ironman and think to themselves, “This is something I want to do.”

Maybe it looks like fun for the first few hours.  The energy and excitement at an Ironman start is surreal.  But, it is also cold and crowded.  I was happy that I was warm and dry and running instead.

By the middle of the day, people are starting the marathon and seem sincerely happy to be off their bikes (after 5-7 hours of cycling, who wouldn’t be happy?)  For the third year in a row, we trekked around in the jogging stroller, clapping our hands.  The kids were finally capable of saying things like, "Good job!" "Way to Go!"

It’s tricky to cheer with the stroller because I feel like we can only run against the crowd – even during an Ironman, people don’t like to be passed by a woman pushing a double stroller.

We did the same loop as last year, stopping repeatedly for some recovery.

After awhile, Brenna finished her lollipop.  Yes, yes...we moved on from cheerios to candy.  BUT, it was a dum-dum, which is almost too small to even be considered a real lollipop.  Right?
And shortly after, with a little help, Hayden finished his.

After that, I let them loose to play at the park with my Dad.

At this point, there is no "maybe" - the race does not look fun.  It looks miserable.  And tormenting.

People are limping and hobbling.  I can practically see the lactic acid pulsing through their legs.  Imagine that you are lost and walking through the desert: thirsty yet bloated, hungry yet nauseous, tired yet unable to sit down, sleepy yet unable to sleep.

You want to run up and hug them.
I watched one of my friends stagger through a water station during her last loop of the run.  She tripped but caught herself, stood in a daze for a few seconds, grabbed a water cup from the aid station and poured it on her head. (My better instinct told me she did not want a hug).  Now, if that was me, I probably would have sat and cried.  Or called a cab.  But instead, she looked up and continued to run.

I guess that is the difference between me and an Ironman.

Although, I will never say never.
At one point, I was sure I would never like coffee.
At one point, I was sure I would never be watching MTV shows when I was 30 years old.
At one point, I was sure I would never bribe my kids with free cookies at the grocery store.
So sure, I can say I will never be crazy enough to put myself through such a grueling chain of events - but who knows, maybe one day I will get bored and decide I want a new red tattoo.

Nathan's Triathlon Race Report

We may as well just call this #2 and copy and paste this entry: Last years race report.

It was nearly an identical performance - which is not what I intended, considering I have spent all year practicing shorter races.  and swimming.

The swim went okay.  My ankle did not hurt although it did stiffen towards the end.
I think I did a good job sighting, the buoy was always where I expected it to be.  I bi-lateral breathed as necessary.  I was hoping to draft, but within the pandemonium of the start, I was too busy getting repeatedly kicked in the face to remember that plan.

Things were settled by the first buoy and then I did manage to catch a draft to the second buoy.  But the course is a rectangle so this really didn't help me much.

Looking back, I didn't really push myself in the swim.  It's still always less about swimming and more about surviving.

Last years swim time = 29:47.
This years swim time = 28:41.

There is rumor that the swim course was long.  This was the rumor last year, too though - although the winning swim time (by the same girl) was a whole minute longer.  But the only thing that matters is your placement out of the water - I was 31st - which means I cant retire Masters class yet.

Last years T1 = 1:48.
This years T1 = 1:54.

This transition area is quite unfair because it's really big.  Some people get to run in / out, grab their bikes and go, while others have to grab their bikes and run in / out in their cleats.  Like me.

The bike was fine.  The bike is always fine.

Last years bike = 1:08:12.
This years bike = 1:08:20.

Eh, there was wind.

I somehow acquired this fancy amino acid hydration supplement.  In my mind, since it is fancy and the bottle swears to have magical hydration effects, it is awesome.  For this reason, I save it for race day.

Mid-way through the bike, I notice my stomach starting to cramp. This is a phenomenon that plagues me in every single olympic distance triathlon.  I have blamed everything: lake water, gels, over-hydration, heat.....but yet, I have never considered that maybe, my super-cool amino acid drink was the culprit.

Feeling like an idiot for not connecting the dots, I stopped drinking.  I ended the bike less bloated but more thirsty.

Last years T2 = 1:46.
This years T2 = 1:36.

I loosened my bike shoes before getting off my bike, which was a mistake considering how far I then had to run with my bike.  Given my lack of coordination, it should be no surprise that I tripped.   BUT, luckily, my peddle caught my knee and I was able to slide on onto my bike instead of falling clumsily on my face.

It was an unintended moment of grace.

Followed by the much longer, less graceful moment of dealing with my  bib-belt.

The plan was to grab it and put it on as I left transition.

This was a plan I remembered! 

So I grabbed it.

          And I tried to put it on.                   And tried.                              And tried.

A few minutes later, it was finally on, I dashed off for my run.

But only to the first water station.

The race started late (past 7:30am) and the temperature at this point was over 90-degrees.  Not only was I thirsty, I was hot.   Very hot.

I took every cup available to me and poured them over my head.

And then I "dashed" to the next water station.  I spent probably close to 30-seconds at every water station, gulping water and pouring water over my head.  Then with soaked shoes, I sloshed to the next station.  Sometimes we look back at races and think, "well, it wasn't really that bad."

Nope, not this time - it really was that bad.  I only smiled if I saw a camera.

Last years run = 47:21.

This years run = 46:27.

I was hoping for sub-42.  On labor day, I did a 31-bike ride, bricked with 6.1 miles @ 6:45.  I really thought maybe it was doable.  And maybe it is doable, on a different day with a different heat-index. 

After the race I was bummed about it, but I more happy just to be done and in the presence of lots of water, fans, misters, and my kids.  

Final time = 2:26:30, 5th female, 3rd AG (1st AG since 2 of the top 3 were in my age group and you cant double dip.  This is one of the benefits of being in a competitive age group).  

I am going to try the olympic triathlon one more time - when its not almost 100-degrees outside.  Until then, its trail racing season so if you need me, I will be on a mountain (starting with the Estrellas in two weeks).  

Or Masters, because I just can't let swimming beat me.

Xterra Highs and Swimming Lows

I had the grand opportunity to work at a local Xterra triathlon.  I have done Xterra races before but my ineptness for mountain biking has kept me away from their triathlon - so I jumped at the opportunity to participate in a relay team.  It was really everything a girl could ask for...awesome people, awesome race, a few extra bucks in my pocket, and a weekend away from anything that excessively screams and/or poops.

I found myself in awe of all the other female participants.  It takes a really "cool" girl to mountain bike.  I have tried it and, well, as long as there were no rocks or bumps or major hills, I did okay.  But let's be real:  Xterra is only rocks and bumps and major hills.  Or you may have to find a way to get your bike through a knee deep puddle, or over a closed-fence, or miles of mud.  I don't think Xterra worries too much about logistics because "finding a way" is sometimes more fun than being told the way.

The run lived up to my Xterra expectations.  I blissfully flew along the course.  I didn't wear a Garmin but it was a good, well-paced effort.  I did feel like I was somewhat cheating since I did not do the 15-mile mountain bike - that feeling took the "race" out of the race and made it more into a really fun run.  However, I did pull our team from 5th place to 3rd place and had the fastest run out of all the relay teams.

My favorite part of the run was the water.

Somethings you know you are meant to do.

I know I meant to trail run.  

Somethings you know you are not meant to do.

My body has been telling me that it is not meant for swimming.  I look at it and say, "Why not? You have long arms and gigantic hands like Michael Phelps!  You should be awesome!"  

And it responds by getting injured.

I HAVE A SWIMMING INJURY.

You are probably thinking that my shoulder hurts because that is a typical swimmer's injury.  But no, it is my ankle.  My swim coach, my swim friends, and my chiropractor are all baffled at this recent injury.  And I cannot bend or twist my ankle outside of the pool in a way to trigger the pain - I must be in the water, kicking my feet, for at least 10 minutes.

In any other conditions I would be on the roof screaming, "I can run.... I can  bike....I can dance....I can do anything BUT swim!!"  Unfortunately, with my triathlon looming in just one short week, this is an anomalous occasion where I do want to swim. 

Not to mention, I have put in HOURS at the pool, swimming 5 days a week, averaging 10,000-12,000 meters per week.  For countless weeks!  

My arm hair turned blond.

My swim cap ripped from overuse.

My bathing suite is so stretched out that your kids should not be able to look.

People no longer recognize me without goggle marks around my eyes.

The hypothesis is that I am doing something wrong with my flip turns.  This does make sense because it hurts the most after I flip.  If this hypothesis is correct, then aside from my training abruptly ending two weeks too early, I will be okay in the lake.

But, if this hypothesis is wrong, then I can end up in the middle of the nasty lake with a really nasty ankle cramp.  

And, it will just confirm that I meant to be running in the mountains instead.

Pools and Potties, Part 2

Potties.
Saturday was Day 1 of the Three Day Potty training method.  As expected, Hayden was resistant.  We followed the rules in the literature that David instructed me to read.  Unfortunately, I opened it up with good intent but got hung up on the 30 pairs of underwear mandated for each child.  Who has time to read when they are frantically shopping for 60 pairs of underwear?

I had some sticker shock over the price of underwear - but between Target, Walmart and Amazon, I was able to fulfill the underwear requirement without entirely draining the bank account.

The first step to the method is to have the kids carry out all the diapers and put them in the trash.  (Of course this is wasteful and just for show).  Then, you put them in their underwear and say, "Who wants juice??"

To them, juice was water that tasted like candy.
Their minds were blown.

They guzzled sippy cup after sippy cup like college kids on spring break.  Their little bellies grew like water balloons.

"Do you have to pee?" David would ask them.
"Do you have to pee?" I would ask them.
They would shake their head, extend their hand to pass us their empty sippy cup and demand,  "More juice."

They held their pee for an impressive amount of time, but what goes in must eventually come out.  And when massive amounts go in, massive amounts come out.  I will spare you the descriptive (and dramatic) details.

Sunday was Day 2.  It is always peaceful after a storm.

By Day 3, we were back to our normal routine, except always with a towel in tow.
We went to Costco:

We went running (it was too early for Hayden to be photogenic)

I took us to see the cow just in case we had to make a pit stop.  This road already smells like poop.

We also went to the mall:

So far, accidents have been few and at home. Of course, I am knocking on wood as I type this.


Pools.
I know, it's not a very fun topic.  My apologies in advance.
I started logging my workouts two weeks ago.  I will refer to this as the beginning of training.
Week 1 included three intervals workouts (in addition to Masters and endurance workouts):
Workout #1 was 250x4.  My fastest was 4:36.
Workout #2 was 200x5. My fastest was 3:40.
Workout #3 was 100s. My fastest was 1:42.

Week 3 I revisited these intervals with the following workout:
250 x 2 - 4:21 / 4:21
200 x 2 - 3:28 / 3:23
100 x 2 - 1:36 / 1:37
200 x 2 - 3:30 / 3:30

I am not really sure what those numbers mean in regards to swimming 1500 meters in open water.  BUT, I know that 4:21 is faster than 4:36, 3:23-3:30 is faster than 3:40 and 1:36 is faster than 1:42.   This may be a new road but I think its the right direction - so far.  I am still knocking on that wood.