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.

Reverse Triathlon & Reverse Psychology

I have always wanted to try a reverse triathlon.  I was hesitant for a few different reasons.   In a normal triathlon, I slush out of the water seeded in the middle of the pack.  For the rest of the race, I get to silently sneak up on the swimmers, one by one.  I enjoy this chase. It's like a game.

But reversing this process completely changes this game.  The motivation is no longer to hunt people down, but to be the hunted.  It's too much pressure.  I don't perform well under pressure.

My second reservation was the pool. Supposedly, a few years ago, someone almost drowned during a reverse triathlon.  So now, they all take place in a pool.  That way, if you get tired, you simply get out of the pool instead of drown in the lake.  It makes sense.  But, there are lane lines and I am not good at serpentine swims.

But I found myself itching to do something and since it's 110+ degrees outside, there are not a lot of options.

However, I surprised myself by really enjoying the reverse order.  Starting with the run was a larger advantage than I anticipated because I was able to run to my full ability!  Normally, I am tired, hot, thirsty and filled with gut-eating lake bacteria by the time I finally start my run.  Starting fresh meant starting fast.  And fast is always fun.

The run was supposed to be 4 miles but I returned to the transition at only 3.5.  "That way, That way!" someone shouted.  They were pointing to the back to the transition.  I thought maybe you had to keep running and then u-turn, to make it 4 miles.  So....I kept running.

That was wrong.

The course was short.

Even though I lost a minute or so, I still had the lead going onto the bike.  

The bike course was easy, four straight loops.  I averaged 22mph.

When I finished my bike, I stood by a water cooler and drank four cups of water.  I never thought I would want to swim but in a unique moment of excessive sweat, swimming sounded fun.

And the cold water felt good.  As much as I do not like the serpentine, it was nice to be able to see my hands, the feet in front of me and not worry about sighting.  The swim went quickly and I was the first woman out of the water.  This was nice because I was able to watch the rest of the race, including my friends battle it out for second and third place.  I was relieved to not involved in that tight of a race.  Just like I don't like the pressure of being chased, I don't like the pressure of a photo-finish.  Even at awards they were still battling it out.

Not to say though that I have not had my own battles lately.

Everyone has been telling me that I need to regain control of my princess.  One constant thing that I always ask of Brenna is to pull her hair in a ponytail.  Or braid. Or half ponytail.  Or bun.  Or ANYTHING to keep it out of her face.  When her hair is in her face, it is a magnet for food and dirt.
Brenna's constant response to this request is always been "No."  If I dared to pull it back anyway, she simply pulled it out.

In a bold move to make a point that I have control, I threatened Brenna:
"Let me pull it back in a ponytail or I will cut it off."

FYI, I said this while looking at her beautiful, original curls of baby hair.
Of course I did not want to cut it off.
And I knew that girly-Brenna would not want to cut it off, either.
Maybe it would sting - but maybe that is what we needed.

However, Brenna was not about to lose control of her hair by just an idle threat. In an unexpected act, she looked me in the eye and said, "Cut it."

I couldn't back down - so we went to Great Clips.  There was a 15-minute wait.
We sat down.
I took a magazine and found a young girl with very short hair.  I showed it to Brenna.
I quizzed her: "Are you sure you want your hair to look like that?" 

She held the magazine in her lap and studied it for many minutes.

I patiently waited for her to say no.

Instead, she sat there until a stylist called her name.  And, without any prompting, she walked up to the stylist, handed her the magazine, and said with decisiveness, "I want that."

The stylist was very impressed and shocked to learn that this was her first haircut.

I was shocked that my daughter was really about get her first haircut.

Brenna sat very still the entire time.  I watched her face.
It was a hard face to read.  Maybe one day she will play poker.

When the cut was complete, we stood in front of the mirror.  "I like it."  I said.  "Do you?"

She explored her new hair with her hands.  "Yes," she answered.

I forced a smile.  She forced a smile.
And her beautiful hair was placed in a sandwich bag.

But her hair has been effortlessly out of her face ever since.
And at the end of day, there are no longer clumps of  amalgamated cereal milk, apple sauce, sand and snot.

So although a battle - and although it's questionable - I am claiming the win.

Tempe International, Take Number 3

After crunching in a single yet satisfying speed workout, and 4 swims, into last week, I felt confident about this event.  After struggling in my two previous races, this was going to be THE race that did not suck.  Really, that was my main goal – not to suck.  Of course, I preferred to place overall or snag a PR, but at some point, you get desperate and just hope for a decent outcome.

There was quite of bit chatter in the morning about some out-of-state college elites that “ran a 17 minute 5K off the bike.”  They sounded stupendous, if not super-human, and dissolved any hopes I had about placing in the top 3.  But, I was okay with that – it did not affect my primary goal of not sucking.

I warmed up and, like every year, the race started late.  This year, it started an HOUR late.  As my body cooled-down, the race adrenaline started to dissipate.  And so did my motivation.

Eventually the race did start though and in the brutal swim start, I found myself awakened as I tried to swim through a sea of bodies and flailing limbs (as shown at Minute 1):


Although wetsuits were legal, it was not worth the hassle for only 400 meters.  Instead, I borrowed my friend’s neoprene speed suit.  It was less buoyant than a wetsuit but it did help a little – since I naturally sink when I swim, I need all the help I can get.  I felt like this was the first time I really raced the swim…every time I saw a pink swim cap, I pushed to pass it.  After 200 meters, I finally escaped the pack and I was actually able to swim a little.  And then, the swim ended.

YAY!!!!!!! 

We had to run up a long ramp to get to transition.  I managed to pass a few women.

But once in transition, I struggled to get the speed suit off – T1 felt like an eternity. 

But in reality, it was faster than last year:  1:03.

The first few minutes on the bike were slow.  I had a little container of apple-cider vinegar and it took some skill to remove the lid while keeping on hand on the bike.  But, I swallowed quite a bit of lake water and was relying on the vinegar to save me.

And it did!  I had not a single stomach issue, not even a single fart, for the rest of the race.

The bike was good – same course as last year.  My time was a few seconds slower but that is negligible.  It was the third fastest bike split.  I am pleased.

I rushed in T2, resulting in my best transition ever:
56 seconds.  

The run began with a long descent down a staircase.  And then up a little hill and around a corner.  Once completing these obstacles, I passed the girl I was chasing.  I passed a second girl about a half-mile later.  After that, I didn't see any other females.  I passed plenty of dudes…somewhere during Mile 2, I zoned out.  Keeping focus has been one of my racing challenges.  Last year, I had a competitor who raced me during the entire run, pushing me to run my hardest, and get the fastest female run split.  This year, I ended with the third fastest split – and a mediocre time.  There was a second staircase in the race (I do not remember that from last year?) and I am convinced the course is long – no female broke 21 minutes.  So needless to say, no one ran that alleged 17-minutes.

Final times, results and comparisons:

Swim:  Last year – 9:26 (not much training, no speed suit)

            This year – 7:15

Bike:  Last year – 33:49 (22.1 mph)

          This year – 34:02 (22 mph)

Run:  Last year – 20:26

          This year – 22:04 (ouch)

Final:  Last year – 1:05:58, 2nd overall

          This year – 1:05:26, 4th overall

I was 20 seconds away from third place – one of the downsides of a waved start is that you don't know this.  Could I have ran 20 seconds faster?  Sure.  But, I didn't.   HOWEVER, I did not suck – so I walked away with success and even more importantly, with my first PR of the year. 

It may not be a mind-blowing PR but I will take whatever I can get.

All you need is love?

It’s been a rough rebound after my triathlon debacle last weekend. Although I know I was sick, I can’t brush off the feeling of giving it my best on my bike, yet barely able to break 19mph.

After a few more days of recovery and hot yoga, I returned to the saddle Friday afternoon. I rode for an hour, hilly roads, in 95-degree weather and swirling winds, and ended with a short 15-minute run. Afterwards, I looked at my Garmin was mildly pleased I covered 22 miles during that time. But, it didn't give me the redemption that was expecting.

On Saturday, I met my tri-group for an open water swim. We followed that with a bike ride/ run. Again, my performances were pleasing but didn't bring me the motivation that seems to have melted away during my illness.

There is one last local triathlon in five days before everyone surrenders to the heat. I want to do it. Or more so, I want to want to do it. Or maybe even more so, I want to do it well.

I feel like I have a lot of bad races. I am scared of having yet another.

But, on the other hand, I love triathlons and the triathlon community, so should it even matter if I do well? I feel like it has been ages since I have PR’ed, but that does not mean that I have not had fun during all my attempts.

At the end of the day, I love to race. So I don’t know why I can’t commit and bring myself to fill out the entry form. If I don’t do it soon, I lose the opportunity all together.

In addition to my running, biking and swimming, I was able to spend weekend with my favorite people. On Saturday, David and I went out for our anniversary. We rarely go out so this was a special treat. I had quite a few drinks.

On Sunday, I laced up my running shoes and left for a run – I had no idea where I was going or how far I would go…I didn’t bring music or water…I just ran! After about a mile, I thought maybe I had a hangover. And I realized that it was very hot. But I just kept running and it turned out to be glorious run – I ran all over the city – and eventually found myself at my mom’s house. She gave me a hug even though I was all sweaty.

I love my family.
I love to run.
I love to race.


I should just do it and have fun.  I have nothing to lose.

Esprit de She v.s. My bed

I was looking forward to this event very much and was hoping for a PR (sub-1:12).  I feel like I am in the best shape of my life, although I cannot seem to have a good race to prove it to myself.   I had hopes that this would be the race.

And then Friday happened.

I was at work and my body started to ache.
I felt this instant and incessant need to go to bed.
So I left work early and did go to bed, where I stayed all day.  And all afternoon.  And all evening.
I sent my husband to Subway for dinner.

I was expecting to feel better on Saturday but  I woke up in the morning and found the only thing I was capable of doing was napping.  I sent my husband to Subway for dinner again.

Around 11:30pm, I awoke because I could not breathe.  I sprung up, gasping for air, only to realize that I was choking on puke...... if you think that is gross to read, don't imagine how gross it is to experience.  And, the proceeding events only get worse so I will spare you the rest of the details.

The fact I was sick was not shocking.  Hayden had a stomach bug last week, Brenna had a stomach bug a few days later and David got the stomach bug a day after that.  On Thursday I was standing in the kitchen, cutting an onion, praising my invincible immune system for not catching the sickness.

What I do find shocking is while David and the kids were able to poop a few times and be done with it, I was inhabilitated for days.  They eat hotdogs and goldfish crackers.  I eat spinach and kale.  How does that work?

Anyway, I knew that I was going to show up on race day morning no matter what.  I was just hoping that I could improve enough to keep some nutrition inside me - and even more so, I was hoping everything would remain inside of me during the race.

I can understand perhaps pooping yourself during the Olympic trials or something - but it would really suck to be the girl who pooped herself during a local sprint triathlon.

And here is the good news:  I DID NOT POOP MYSELF!!

My warm-up, however, included simply dashing back and forth from the transition area to the toilet.  On one hand, I was grateful to be empty.  On the other hand, having an empty tank is not a great way to start a race.

My mindset automatically changed from "try to PR" to "just have fun!"  It seemed easy enough to have fun while doing something you love.  I realized while swimming from the dock to the start line, I was wrong.

Nothing is fun when you are sick.  There was not a moment of that race when I did not want to quit.

My legs were so useless that at one point on the bike, I checked to make sure my break was not rubbing.

The finish line had champagne, massages and manicures waiting for us.  Although those are my favorite things, all I could think about was my bed.

I think I was the first athlete to remove her bike from the transition area.

After I finally reunited with my beloved bed, my kids reminded me that I promised to take them to the "ice cream store."  Ice cream actually sounded really good.  On our way, we instead found ourselves at a shaved-ice food truck.  The combination of ice and sugar magically cured me!!!

For an hour.

I realize if skipped the race, I would probably be better today.  But, whether its ice cream or a race, I try to honor my commitments.  I knew no matter what, I would live to write this post.  After all, it was just a sprint triathlon, the worst case scenario was I would have to poop.

Was my race good?  Not to my standards. I was eleven minutes off my PR.
But, the $65 entry fee came with a really nice cycling jersey.   It is perhaps my favorite piece of race-swag.
And, now I can wear it proudly because it's not the race that I skipped - it's the race that I conquered while sick.

I will just feel better tomorrow instead.

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.

Oh. Taper.

My next race is an Olympic triathlon and it is next weekend.
Things have been going really great with training... I have been having a lot of fun, doing group workouts, and feeling unsurpassably strong.  In the past three weeks, I have a done at least:
- 12 mile run (with 10 miles at tempo pace / 6:50)
- 13+ mile run x 2
- 43 super hilly bike ride
- 37+ bike ride bricked with 4 miles x 2 
- Cycling intervals on the power-meter x 3
- Track x 2 and speedwork directly off the bike
- A few bikes rides bricked with my favorite running partners:

And then, on Wednesday, I was reminded that I should perhaps start my taper.

My response:  "Already????" 
I felt sorta bummed.

But then I woke up Thursday to meet my friend for what normally would be a tempo run.  But instead, we just ran.  It wasn't fast.  It wasn't far.  But yet, it felt hard.  My streak of feeling stronger every workout was over.  I felt tired.  Or, at least I convinced myself I was tired so I would abide by my  taper.

The taper is an important thing for me.  Not only is it an opportunity to recover, but it is an opportunity to swim, do yoga and get caught up on my errands -- so far, I have two massages and a facial scheduled.

Massages and facials may paint me as the lady of leisure I would love to be, but aside from this exact sentence that I am typing right now, "leisure" and "twins" are simply two words that never find themselves together.  Just the fundamental task of keeping my kids alive keeps me very busy........nevermind trying to keep them happy.

When we are not doing things, their default activity is fighting.  Brenna is usually the antagonist, but at least once a day, I catch Hayden slowly extending his hand towards Brenna's ponytail as if he just cannot resist the temptation of pulling on it.  This is one reason Brenna's ponytail never makes it past lunch time.

It is hard to be "doing things" all the time, especially with two three-year olds in tote.  So, I have continued separating them a few nights a week.  This makes doing things a lot more easier.  For example, this week, I took them each to a little carnival.

I walked Brenna through her very first funhouse:

And a few days later, I accompanied Hayden on his first flying elephant ride:

I was real excited to find out he was tall enough to ride the tilt-a-whirl...I used to love that ride!  But, he was not interested in anything that daring yet.  I was not surprised considering he is scared of practically everything in life unless you have ice cream.  And I had no ice cream.

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.

Feeling Rather Beat Up.

I have not swam for a week but assuming I am still suffering from my unique swimming injury, I have more annoying aches allowing me to create quite a list.  All of them, however, are self-inflected, so I am not sure I am entitled to complain?

I shall complain anyway.

The first one was a bike accident.
It is not new news that I don't check the weather reports before embarking on a bike ride. I mean, it's Arizona.  Our weather is hot and sunny 99% of the time.

But last Tuesday, the forecast supposedly called for rain.  A lot of rain.
I discovered this factoid when I was 12 miles away from home and the rain was falling so hard that it felt like tiny needles hitting my skin.  Needless to say, I don't have a lot of experience cycling on slippery roads.  I gripped by handlebars tightly, kept my head down and gave it 100% of undivided concentration.

I was 2 miles away from home when the rain finally stopped.  I let out a huge sigh of relief, relaxed my cramped hands, and made a right hand turn.  Or, tried to make a right hand turn.  The bike did turn- onto its side.

My first thought as I hit the ground was, "OH MY GOSH, CAN I RUN??"
I did an immediate check of the knees and ankles.  Everything felt normal and I was left with just some road rash and oozy wounds, like this:

But as the day moved into the evening, my neck and back started to hurt.  I guess I tensed up when I fell and accrued some whiplash.  Despite seeing a chiropractor, by the next day, I was unable to turn my head.
Brenna was unforgiving and insisted to clinging to my neck.  We couldn't even survive a trip to the grocery store, we had to be shuffled around in a shopping cart.

(and I realize this is not the first time I have posted myself squished in a shopping cart)















I started to feel better by the weekend, right in time to take a trip to San Francisco for a wedding.  David and I enjoyed our two toddler-free nights to the fullest.  We did everything you would expect me to do.... run a lot (and get lost a little) and eat and drink.

and drink, again.

You know you are having a really fun time when you end up buying purple, sparkly converse shoes.

Although - I don't have regret buying the shoes.  I love the shoes. And a girl can never have too many pairs of purple shoes (at least according to Brenna).

But I may regret running up so many hills....so many really, really big hills.

The opportunity to go out run for as long as I want doesn't happen very often.  For the first hour, I felt fantastic. I frolicked through the city and pranced up the hills with glee.  I was giddy when I found the Golden State Bridge.

But then, I had to turn around.
And all those hills were still there.  Only they seemed a lot bigger.  And my legs felt a lot heavier.

So, with my cycling wounds still fresh and my whiplash still lingering, I got on the airplane to return home with legs overflowing with lactic acid.
Thank goodness I had brought my bright pink compression socks.
Thank goodness they match my purple shoes.

I have spent my time resting and hoping that everything repairs itself for the race this weekend.  I swore this time around that I would practice my transitions - but I have not.   I don't feel ready so I plan to do what I always do - survive the swim, mess up in transitions, take a bike ride and then run too fast the first mile.  I get a strange pleasure in the predictability.