MY BLOG HAS MOVED

www.twinsandtriathlons.com

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.

Powerbar Team Elite

I've completed nearly three weeks of training, which is a word a use loosely since technically, my race calendar is still blank.  But, I see progress!  Ever since Sedona, I have tried to keep things really simple.  And, letting go of certain pressures made me feel so much lighter.  Right after I realized that I had a little bit of pep back in my step, I also got the memo that I made Powerbar's Team Elite.  I am so excited and honored to be part of such an extraordinary group of athletes.

I think I have a few more weeks to go before I am comfortable enough in myself to sign up for some races. I have been noticing some signs of aging, which is an adjustment.  My warm ups, for example, keep getting longer.  My recoveries are getting longer, too.  I seem to also need more sleep.

Things that used to be easy, like pushing the stroller, also are not easy at all anymore. Although that is probably less about me and more about my kids.  My now really big kids:

 The other day, we ran to Costco to pick up a snack for Hayden’s preschool.   On the way there, our pace was pretty quick because it was all downhill with a tail wind.

We ended up getting a bag of veggie chips, on sale for $3 (Hayden wanted Goldfish crackers but the veggie chips were practically free!!)  Neither kid was willing to hold anything because it would infringe on their ability to eat samples, so we were limited what we could fit into our cart.

I narrowed it down to a few select items, including a massive bag of mandarin oranges to pair with the veggie chips.  Because we all know veggie chips are not really vegetables, and I wanted to please all the preschool mommies with contributing a healthy snack.





My kids weigh roughly about 39 and 41 pounds.  But, add in every single costco sample x 2, and  they weigh more like 42 and 44 pounds.  And then add in 10 pounds of oranges and we are over the BOB 100-pound weight limit.

So, what happens when you exceed the weight limit?

First, it is really heavy.  Especially when you are running uphill and in a headwind.

Second, the stroller makes a lot of creaky and uncomfortable sounds.

Third, all the tires slowly deflate.

About half way home, Hayden asked me, "Mom, Why are we going so slow?”  That is when I noticed he was letting his feet drag on the ground.  But, we eventually made it home and Hayden brought in his snack.

Fast forward to Valentines day - the preschool teacher handed out adorable heart-shaped valentines that read, "orange you glad we are friends?" 

and inside was taped a familiar mandarin orange. 

So - I am thinking our my hard work was in vein. 

Next time, we will just stick with the very light veggie sticks.

Weekend Away

Lately I have been feeling stressed out and strung out, even more so than my usual self (because despite my desire to be chilled and relax, it's simply not my character).  There is not one thing to blame, but rather an amalgamation of many things, coupled with my failure to step back and breathe.

We were doing Dancer's Pose, my favorite pose, in hot yoga class a few weeks ago and I kept falling out.  It was the strangest thing because normally I can sleep in this pose.  But, even as the rest of the class was ready to move on, I planted both feet on the floor, closed my eyes, took a second to re-center, and when I opened my eyes, I had my balance back.

I've been feeling like I've lost my balance in life so I attempted a similar approach and started taking moments to close my eyes.  But, it only takes a few seconds of standing/sitting with my eyes shut before I start hearing stuff like:
"Mom, I am going potty!"
"I am done now!"
"I said....I am done now!"
"Mom, can you come wipe my butt??"
"Hayden! I can help you wipe your butt!"
"Mom, Brenna is touching my butt!"

So I took a more exaggerated approach and went to Sedona.
And, here I am, typing in our hotel room.  And I promise that I am using this desk:

And not this table, conveniently located in the bathroom.  Although as someone who works from home and ardent about efficiency, I think this table is borderline brilliant.

One would assume that having lived in Arizona my entire life, I would have already been to Sedona.  But this was actually a first time for me.  I accepted the idea when my husband suggested it, but I would have accepted to escape anywhere -- even in a hotel down the street.  However, I enjoyed Sedona more than I expected, and it was the perfect weekend reprieve.

When we arrived into town, we could not find our intended hiking trail, but I convinced David that we did not need a trail.  So, we found parking off the side of the road and descended down some rock.

David was weary of hiking without a trail and it turns out he was right, because after 10 minutes of hiking down and over rock, we were stuck at a creek with no crossing and plenty of little scratches and scrapes to show for it.

So we did what naturally any couple would do it that situation.

We made-out and took selfies.

We also went wine tasting, ate brownie ice cream sundaes, and of course I went running.

Running has always been my go-to version of "closing my eyes."  Lately, it has been causing more stress than relieving stress, though.  Part of this is because I have not done speed work in....oh.....6 months?   It's a tad hard to see myself not running nor feeling like my former self.  But I know that if you don't use it, you lose it, and that it just does not magically come back.  So being hard on myself does not help, and, if anything, it is ruining the one thing in my life that makes my world a happy place - no matter what.

When I stepped outside my hotel room in Sedona, I tried to also step outside the fact that I wish I was running faster. I found myself seeking out the steepest hills, and running on roads named, "Ridge" and "High View" and "Cloud High."  It has been many months since a double-digit run for me and I was hoping to see that "10" on my Garmin when I returned to my hotel at my allocated time....but alas, all the vertical running slowed me down even more, and I was only at 9.87.  

But I ran up mountains and saw gorgeous views that were normally reserved for folks like George Cloony (he has a house there, don't think I wasn't searching out of the corner of my eye!)  I felt free.  I felt like me.

And that is why I run.

One wonderful weekend did not return me completely recovered, rejuvenated, and ready to battle the world.  But, I do feel refreshed, re-centered and ready to battle Monday.

I think I have my balance back.

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.

Coeur Sports and Tri Scottsdale

It is the first blog post of the year - Happy new year!

The last few months of 2013 were rather rough.  It started with a relentless cold, that turned into a sinus infection, that turned into bronchitis.  It was immediately followed by a wicked, never-ending, antibiotic-resistant virus, and finally one more sinus infection.

This was probably the first "off" season that I really took off.  Towards the end of December, I started finally feeling like myself again.  We visited some family in Chicago and for the first time, in a long time, I was able to breathe during a run.  I was so happy to have my lungs back that I didn't even care that I was inhaling 7-degree air.  In fact, after avoiding it for my entire adult life, I realized that I loved the snow.  OK...I love it for a short visit.  But, if I could run in snow, it means I can run in anything and be a runner anywhere.  Figuring that out, as a I frolicked down the sugary white street, was very liberating.  I felt free.  I felt like a kid again. 

As for my kids, they were not as thrilled or as awed by the experience.  They liked the snow for the first minute they saw it - but that ended with a blood-curdling scream the second they touched it.  

 

We are back in the desert now and running is slowly returning to me. 

I feel sluggish and stiff.

I am still mustering up the will power to get back into the pool.  I question how I ever convinced myself to swim all winter last year.

But, I am sure I will figure it out again and I am excited about 2014.

My goal is to travel, do races in other states, and step outside of my comfort zone.

At the very least, I will be able to do it style because I am now a proud ambassador for Coeur Sports!  Aside from the cute clothing, Coeur is a company that gives back.  A percentage of their profits goes to charity and I love being part of something that is bigger than myself.  The other girls have fantastic attitudes and their excitement has made me excited.

I am also part of the TriScottsdale Elite Racing team this year.  It will be fun to meet new people, get to know familiar faces a little better, and push myself a little harder.

I am hoping for a PR in 2014, at this point I will settle for one in ANY event - but regardless, it's going to be a fun and stylish year!

Toddlers, Teenagers, Turkey Trots

One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is the token Turkey Trot.   Which, of course, does not surprise anyone since running is favorite thing to do upon waking up.  I also signed Brenna up for the "tot trot" - a short 35 meter dash for kids under seven years old.   She was excited and enthusiastic about it, especially since she had new running shoes.

In fact, both kids have new running shoes.

So it's just about transitioning from the stroller to the sidewalk.



Because yes,  we still do sometimes use the stroller, but it's not just as simple as it used to be.  For example, a simple jog to Walgreens to pick up a prescription easily turns into a shopping spree.

The day before Thanksgiving, I took the kids to the packet pickup.  Hayden surprised me by announcing that he also wanted to race.   "Are you sure?" I asked him, because the race had an $8 price  tag.   He assured me, and even though I was skeptical, I believed him.

Race day was hectic and the tot trot was crowded.  The kids were understandably intimidated.

Brenna was a trooper and nervously stood at the start line.
Hayden, on the other hand, refused to leave my side.

 The start gun went off and the tot trot turned into the tot stampede...there were kids running everywhere.  My kids ran too - or maybe Hayden moreso got dragged - and less than 60 seconds later, it was all over.  The finish was a sea of lost kids, standing and screaming for their parents.  Once nice thing about having kids attached to your hip is you cannot lose them, even if you tried.

The adult race was much more organized.  The 10K started first and the 5K started five minutes later.   Of

course I chose the 5K!

The race started off fast but I stayed in my comfortable zone.  Within the first mile, I passed most of the girls in front of me.  I knew there was one more girl up ahead, but she remained out of my sight for most of the race.  The course quickly became crowded as we merged with the slower 10K runners.   It is much easier to just go around people on the left instead of weaving through the crowd, however, it's not very strategic because it is a longer route.  I chose that option anyway.

My longer route was 3.19 miles but I didn't care.  Until I saw the finish, looked down at my watch, and realized I was not going to break 20 minutes unless I started to sprint.  So, I smiled one last time and managed to cross the finish line at 19:56.

I recently turned 32 and I guess maybe I acquired some patience with my older age because for the first time ever, my mile splits go from slowest to fastest.

Mile 1 - 6:20

Mile 2 - 6:15

Mile 3 - 6:10

I knew that there was one girl very much ahead of me who after the first corner, never re-entered my sight line.  So I was surprised to learn at the rewards that I finished third place, not second.  Who was the other girl?

The other girl turned out to be so much faster than me that she never was in my sight to begin with!  And not only was this girl many minutes faster than me - she was only 13 years old.

But anyway, I got a small check and a pie.  The pie was strawberry.

On a similar note,

I am doing an inaugural, all-women trail race series.

The first race was a 5K on a hilly trail and an easy win.

The second race, a 6K, was on Saturday.  

There were some new, fast looking faces at the race.  But the only one that made me nervous was a short, thin girl lined up directly on the start line.  She was 13 years old.

Again, the race started off fast, but again, I know better so I allowed the young girl to take the lead.  I knew my best bet was not to run fast, but to run smart.  Unlike at the turkey  trot, I selective about my route...keeping the distance as short as possible, while attempting to avoid puddles of wet mud. 

A little past Mile 2, I was able to take the lead and pick it up for Mile 3.  This race was 3.75 miles and during the last half mile, I got tired.  I carefully glanced over my shoulder and saw emptiness.  I sighed with relief and slowed down.  But a few minutes later, I glanced again and there she was - moments behind me.

So once again, I realized that I had to frantically sprint to the finish.

This time, I barely beat the kid.  These kids are going to be super stars one day.

I wonder if it all started with a toddler trot?

"So When Are You Going to Do One?"

It was that day of the year again - perhaps my favorite day of the year - the day of the local Ironman.

This is a day that I immensely enjoy....a day that the entire city is immersed and obsessed with my favorite thing.  The triathlon.  All day people are swimming and cycling and running....and my neighborhood is packed with people who love swimming and cycling and running as much as I do.

My day is very active as I cheer on my friends.  I even drag my kids and husband with me.

  

But.......I get spared from the lake waters, eat real food for lunch in lieu of gels and relax on my couch instead of tackling headwinds on my bicycle.  I feel very satisfied with my choice to not subject myself to such self-inflicted misery, although every year, I am routinely asked:  So, when are YOU going to do one?

Even my husband asked me this, to whom my answer was:  When I am 50.

OK, so 50 is pretty far away.  Maybe I will be grandma.
However, I still consider myself still fairly new at this sport.
I have never used a coach or even a training schedule.  I have never tried a tri-bike or long sleeved wetsuit. I have never raced in a different state or swam in the ocean.  I have never found my footing during an Olympic triathlon nonetheless felt ready for anything longer....

I obviously have a lot to learn.

When I returned to running post high-school cross country, our city was having its inaugural rock and roll marathon.  Despite having very little experience with distance running, I actually did quite well and was quickly enamored with the marathon.  It was challenging.  It was prestigious.  It was undisputedly hardcore.

Anyone can run a 5K...but 26 miles?  You have really love running to run 26 miles.

But the marathon came at a price.  I suffered through an endless array of injuries.
Shin splits.  Tendonitis.  ITBS.  Sciatica.  Pulled hamstring.  Stress fracture.

My scoliosis, an annoying and unsightly 25-degrees curve in my spine, makes me prime candidate for pretty much any injury.  Each injury was unique in its own terrible way but they all shared one common thread:  They made me depressed.  And how does a runner deal with depression if they cannot run?

The marathon just wasn't worth it.

Over the past 7 years, which includes running for 30-weeks during my pregnancy, I have learned a lot about myself as an athlete.  There is so much more to running than just distance and there is so much more to recovery than just taking a day off.   My body will perform in amazing ways, but it requires a little more work and a little more patience than perhaps other bodies.

So while the marathon, a lost love, is still waiting for me to return, I am in no rush this time.  I am enjoying the path...filled with 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons and trail races.  I have won races I never thought I could win and have set PRs that I never thought possible.

I am going to do a marathon again one day, but I am not going to limp and hobble away from the finish line in defeat and depression.
So until I can get my body to that point, there is no reason to even contemplate an Ironman.  Until then, I am going to enjoy the journey and seek successes that may be shorter but that are also followed by breakfast and sunshine.

And, of course, I will continue to celebrate the day of the Ironman while cheering on my friends, who are amazing and admirable athletes, while at the same secretly happy that it's not me out there.  At least, not yet and not any time soon.

Before and After Pictures

I think I mentioned a few posts below that over the summer I drove my car into my bedroom window.

I was working from home and playing hooky - to be more specific, I took a break to go to the neighborhood pool.  I did a quick swim and rushed home to return to work.   I carefully coasted into the driveway, just like I have a hundred times before, and gently tapped the break.  Except, somehow, it was the gas pedal instead.

I jumped out at the car, wearing only a Zoot bikini and flip flops, jaw agape.  I didn't know what to do, so I paced back and forth in the front yard for 20 minutes.  Every once in awhile, I glanced up to see if the damage somehow magically disappeared.

Eventually, I gathered my gall and called my husband.  He handled the words, "Dude, I just drove my car into our bedroom" surprisingly well.  It took me a little longer to come acquire the same ease, however, today I am ready to talk about it.

The previous owner converted the garage into a master bedroom.  David and I never loved the fact that the windows faced the street.   Lets call this the "Before Picture."

And I guess we can call this one the "After I Drove My Car Into the Window Picture" or shorten it to simply the "After Picture." 

The wall was boarded for a few weeks and then reconstructed.  We decided to forgo the window.  After our new wall was complete, I realized that it was now the perfect wall for supporting handstands.  And if I am going to be handstands, I figured, why not stop there?  And so, it has now become a family yoga corner.

Before:

              

After:

               

                                 

So....even though I am very pleased with the end-result, I do not recommend trying this at home.  I can't believe my husband still allows me to park the driveway. 



End of October

I don't have many memories of Halloween growing up.   I slightly remember collecting my candy in a pillow case.  I do remember the year my mother made my costume, though.  I was a bat.

I suspect this was a safe choice for my mother, who has never resembled a Betty homemaker of any sort. Bats are perhaps one of the ugliest creatures to spawn on the planet, so this gave her a lot of leeway.  Even a horribly hideous costume would be successful, as long as it was brown.

What I didn't realize back then, as I was standing in brown tights, deformed wings, and tears streaming down my cheeks, is how much work goes into everything when you are the parent.   This last week in October has been filled with fall festivities - all of which has left me somewhat deflated.

I want to give my kids warm family experiences to remember, however I had many of those experiences and yet all I remember is that butchered bat costume.

One thing I may consider giving up next year is the pumpkin patch.  The problem with pumpkin patch is its opened during October.  Even though this year we waited until the last weekend to go, it was still 91 degrees.  After a long car ride and smothering the kids in sunscreen, we waited in the sun to ride the ponies.

And then we took a hayride to the pumpkin field so that the kids could pick out overpriced pumpkins. 

They each selected a small pumpkin that they  I had to lug around for the remainder of the day.  

Shortly after our trip, all the pumpkins at Sprouts (even the large ones) went on sale for $1.  So, not only did we pay $20 to get into the farm, we overpaid 400%  for our pumpkins.  

Hayden's pumpkin got carved and sent to school,

Brenna's pumpkin still sits outside our decorated house, which now needs to be un-decorated.

Albeit work, I admit, I did have fun decorating.

In addition to the deformed panda bear and Mr. Wonderful  from last year, I created three new characters using butter knives and fake blood.

On Halloween, my creativity continued as I made Hayden's favorite food:  Hot dogs.

I made them look like bloody fingers!!

At first, I was quite proud.

But then he refused to eat them since they did, indeed, look like bloody fingers.  

Hayden did like his costume though (Thomas the Train).  Brenna was a mermaid and a little more demanding and dramatic.

After celebrating at each of their respective preschools, it was time for them to pay me back by collecting as much candy as possible.  Previous years proved their trick-or-treating skills to be sub par.  I mean, last year, we practically had to drag them around the block.   This year, they walked on their own, with very little whining, and we even made it off the street.  And, Hayden only tripped and spilled his candy twice!

They really enjoyed knocking on the doors, perhaps too much, and did a good job holding out their buckets for the droplets of candy.  Unfortunately, we came home without any Twizzlers or Butterfingers and too many tootsie rolls.

One thing I have learned raising twins is to take as many shortcuts as possible.  Next year, we will just buy a pumpkin in the comfort of a clean and air conditioned Trader Joes.  And the hot dogs will remain plain, boring hot dogs.

In hindsight, I do appreciate the effort my mother put forth when attempting to create my bat ensemble.  It's a lot of work to get a kid into a costume, nonetheless make the costume.

And for this reason I will spare myself the stress and stick to the consignment stores.

One weekend: Two hard races

Race #1:
This was Brenna's race - a very short, very fast, very straight course.  Hayden opted out so this was a unique opportunity for Brenna to claim something, and have a moment to shine on her own.

I was excited for her.
I was ecstatic as she lined up on the start line in her form-fitting pants( showing off her perfect legs) and her race bib plastered to her Hello Kitty shirt.  She was the image of intimidation.

Just like most races, there was that uncomfortable wait from the lineup to the start.  Brenna's face began to appear nervous.

Of course, I am on the sideline, frantically waving and jumping up and down - so she could be less nervous and more mortified.  I shock myself sometimes by behaving like that mom.  You know, the embarrassing kind that I swore I would never become.

When the race started, all the kids started to run.
I don't think Brenna expected quite the stampede.
Lost in the shuffle, she started to freak out.

My baby girl was scared.
She wanted to quit.
I jumped in the race, grabbed her hand, and a mere few seconds later, she flew into the finish.
She was very proud of her well-deserved medal and wore it for three days straight:

Race #2:

This was my race - a half-Ironman distance relay race.  Naturally, I was doing the run portion (a half marathon).

I signed on to do this 5 weeks ago, very honored to be part of such an amazing team.  It only dawned on me a few days later that 13 miles is a really long distance.  After taking many weeks off due to injury, my first long run, 10 miles, was brutal.

I took a week off for my triathlon, and then returned with another 10-miler that slightly boasted my self confidence.  I followed up with a 12 miler and 13 miler - and then declared myself ready because I had no choice.  But being part of a team relieved a lot of pressure and I actually felt like I really was ready.

The race day morning air was saturated with energy and excitement - I loved being part of it all while not putting on my wetsuit.  As I watched athlete after athlete jump into the water, I was filled with delight that I was remaining dry.

Our swimmer, a talented athlete who is returning to the sport after a life-altering medical condition leaving her short a limb, bravely jumped into the water with all the others.  If she was scared, it did not show.

She swam a fantastic swim - I was there to help her out the water but honestly, she did not need help.  I switched the timing chip to our cyclist and he sprinted off with his bike.  Now, I just had a two hour and 20 minute wait.

I laid down, drank water, did some drills.
I was concerned about my feet because I felt a blister forming.
So I re-adjusted my shoe a few dozen times.

I started to run a little after 10am - very aware of the elevating sun and warming air.  I was also aware of my foot that I cautiously wrapped in mole skin, but it felt okay.  The tailwind made that first mile effortless, but everything after that got exponentially worse.

Miles 2-6 were fine.  I was still aware of my foot but I was averaging 7-minute miles with relative ease.  But then Mile 7 started and my foot started to hurt.  Despite my best effort, I must have changed my gait because then everything else started to hurt.  My quads.  My hamstrings.  My other foot.

I struggled to hold 7:30s and then 7:40s.

Even though I managed to put on a smiling face for the camera, my form, or lackthereof, is a complete giveaway of my crumbling condition.

Mile 4                                            Mile 10

 At Mile 11, I was in so much pain that I was doing the unthinkable:  stopping.
I wasn't even walking - I would just stand for a few seconds to allow the pain to subside.

I wanted to quit.
But I had a team relying on me.
The stopping-running method is not efficient nor recommended but it did finally bring me to the finish.

With the heat and lack of training, I wasn't expecting anything phenomenal but I also was not expecting such excruciating pain or a piddly 1:36:07.  Our team finished 20th, and while respectable, I wish I could have ran slightly better.  But, we had a great time and I am thrilled I got to participate.

When I got home, I inspected my foot to find out that my blister was actually a Planter's wart.  I removed it with a pair of tweezers and after much stretching, I am pleased to emerge unscathed despite a little bruising to the ego.  At the end of the day, I am so grateful to be able to run, even with a nasty wart.

Running Fast is Hard

With my intercostal muscle and foot finally fully healed, I have been loving every step of running.  I have not managed to find the willpower to find myself at the pool – it’s cold in the morning and in the afternoon, well, I rather run. I always tell myself, “Run today and swim tomorrow instead.”  And then the following day, I simply repeat myself.

I had an itch to race but resistant because I am not in my best shape.  When I saw my friend Angie last week at the trail race (as mentioned below), I thought it was really cool that she could just run a race for fun.  She is nursing school so not in her best shape either (last year, she won that race - this year, she chatted with me for the last four miles).

I love racing.  I also want to be able to separate the fun aspect from the competitive aspect.  I cannot always be in tiptop shape but that doesn't mean I need to sit at home.  Octoberfest seemed like the perfect event to pull off a "just for fun race."

My original plan was to do the 5 mile race as a tempo run.  I cannot even recall my last tempo run.  But after a chatty 45 minute warm-up with a friend, I missed the start and switched to the slightly later 5K.  And also, 45 minutes to me is practically an entire workout on its own.

                

As always, I felt great during the first half mile but I cautiously kept myself from sprinting ahead.  I was guessing I was running a 6 minute pace.  I started to feel tired around Mile 2, which is typical, so I looked down at my watch.  I was surprised to see I was only running a 6:20 pace.   And then we reached the stairs.   Stairs?!?!    I took them two at a time, which in hindsight, was not the best approach.  It made my legs feel really heavy when I attempted to run fast again.  I looked at my watch – 6:27 pace!

I ended up with a 19:36, so not horrible considering the lack of training. And because of the convoluted local race schedule, I placed 3rd and got a plaque.

It made me re-realize how hard it is to run fast  (if that is even considered fast).  But, it was fun, and that was the point.

Next weekend is another race.  It is a kid race.  Like me, the kids have done minimal training.

Brenna, who literally follows in my footsteps (since I do not let her cling to my leg), is eager to run to run like mom.  She even sticks out her tongue deep in concentration.  Her short legs are surprisingly quick.

 

Hayden, on the other hand, is not only realizing how hard it is to run fast, but how hard it is just to run.  After a few seconds, he pretends to fall.  And after a few falls, he is exhausted.  This is the result of too many summer afternoons watching My Little Pony because it was 120 degrees outside.  

I don’t want to force him to do something he dislikes, but if up to him, he would only play with Lego and trains all day.  So, I do not know if he will do the race – that’s for him to decide – I can only encourage him to be healthy and remind him what I remind myself:  It’s all about having fun.

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.