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.

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?

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.

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.

Hood to Coast

Hood to Coast was everything I was expecting - gorgeous scenery, great people, and an overall epic experience.  The race start was staggered in 15-minute intervals.  The slower teams began at 7am and the faster teams began at 7pm.  We started at 3:30pm.

Because of our later start, we were able to enjoy our morning in Portland.  The Embassy Suites provided a really good complimentary breakfast.   I had an omelette (made to order), a pancake, a yogurt, potatoes, orange juice and coffee.  I don't get to eat a breakfast like that very often, if ever, because I usually do not stay in an Embassy Suites.

Anyway, the race started on Mount Hood.  It was lovely up there.  The air was so thin that it made our bag of Doritos inflate and my ears crack.  We started with six other teams.  Our first runner was real fast, and passed them all.  This is what people call a "kill."

I was the second runner.  People warned me that my leg was a steep downhill, but they also assured me that it was nowhere as bad as Leg 1.  I knew that it was important for me to lean forward during this downhill to avoid burning out my quads.

Mind you, I have only ran a few times in the past month.  None of them fast.  Few of them over 6 miles.  So, while my legs were able to turn over at a 6 min mile pace, my cardiovascular system was not able to keep up.

At one point, I glanced down at my Garmin to note that it had only been nine minutes.  It's not a good sign if you are exhausted after only nine minutes.





I slowed down but at the expense of my legs.  I wore my Hokas in attempt to lessen the effect but my legs were toasted regardless.  I thought the scenery would serve as a distraction, but instead I barely noticed it.

We finished running down the Mountain and met our Van 2 in a large Safeway parking lot.  There were a lot of other vans there and I met people from all countries imaginable: Amsterdam, Italy, France - and everyone was so open and friendly and interesting.

Eventually we continued back to Portland and had dinner at Whole Foods.  It was the first fresh food since my breakfast feast.  It was also already 9pm, which is my bedtime, so needless to say, I felt tired.  After my soup, I slouched at the table and looked at my teammate standing up, rubbing his belly that was full of smoked salmon.  "Yeah," he said thoughtfully, "I really feel like I need to go for a run."

My second run was around 12:30am through the industrial district.  This stretch of the race is completely dark.  Despite getting crowned with a headlamp, I could not see anything but endless blackness.

I didn't even see other runners!  I "killed" four runners within the first mile, but after that, it was just a sea of black.  The first three miles were pretty good, probably around a 7:15 pace.  But then my legs became heavy with lactic acid.  The best thing you can do when this happens is to run as fast as you can so you that you can be done. So, that is what I did.

I was hoping for sleep before my last run but of course it did not happen.  That is what I dislike most about these relay races - sleep never happens!  Even if you get the chance, your body does not cooperate.

By the time of my last run, my legs were so sore.  I did tons of stretching (at one point, I even had an audience of those in awe of my flexibility.  But the last thing I wanted was to put on a show,  I just wanted my legs to stop aching!)  However, without rest is there is no recovery, body contortion and compression socks aside.

My third run was on rolling hills through the woods.  I would say that these 5.8 miles mimicked the pain of the last 5.8 miles of a marathon.  I hate that pain - that is why I don't run marathons!!

I focused on killing people and hit my expected pace.  And then....I was done!!!!

Despite the fatigue and the pain, I had a great time in Oregon.  I met many fabulous people, saw many fabulous sights and at the end of it all, I felt like I really accomplished something.  It was more of an adventure than a race.

Beat the Heat Report

This was an inaugural race, held on a historically hot weekend, at the hottest time of the day (2:42pm). The hottest temperature recorded on this day was 112, so to be cute, the race distance was 11.2K.  (Although it was really over 7 miles...I guess it's like the 28 mile bike ride in my last Olympic triathlon).

It was pretty hot - around 105 at the start and 108 at the finish.  However, had they waited one more weekend we all would have been in for a real challenge - the forecast for this upcoming weekend is 117 degrees! It's not so much the temperature that I struggle with though, but rather the position of the sun.  At 3pm, the sun directly pounds your skin and there is no escape.  Brenna always demands that I park in the shade when we are looking for a spot in a parking lot...those shrubs do not produce much shade.

Arizona is a dry heat though.  When the air is dry, your sweat cools down your skin, as designed.  My plan for this race was to stop at every single water station to 1) drink water, and 2) pour water on my head to stay wet.  There were 12 water stations, so nearly one every half-mile.

Before the race, we were all squished into a horse stadium.  This stadium was air conditioned but squeezing 1,000 people into such a small place negated any cooling effects.  There was a pre-race yoga class though...it was not very popular but I jumped right in.

The race started inside the stadium and we quickly ran into the bright sunlight.  It felt like a normal race and I constantly caught myself cautiously reigning in the pace.  At 3pm, I always have my kids, so I was not able to train to run this race fast - it was more like an experiment.  How much would it suck?

It didn't suck at all for Miles 1- 3.  In fact, I felt great.
There was a girl in front of me that I desperately wanted to pass, but I played the patient card and stayed at a comfortable pace.  Right after Mile 3, I passed the girl.   Mile 4 was in a headwind, and on a golf course filled with small but steep ups and downs.  This is when I started getting tired.

Mile 5 is when I started getting hot.  I had to adjust my water-station pattern from:

stop - pour water on my head - walk to next cup - drink water - run (5 seconds)

to:

stop - pour water on my head - walk to next cup - drink water - walk to next cup - pour water on my head - walk to next cup - drink water - run (10-15 seconds).

I still think that adding 10-15 seconds at the water stations was a lesser evil than not properly hydrating and slowing my pace by perhaps minutes per mile.

I never found any additional girls to pass and zoned out for a few miles.  I arrived back in reality at the last water station and realized that I was  very hot and thirsty.  But I could see the finish -- I just had to slosh through a sprinkler-soaked grass field first.  I tried to gracefully leap over puddles but as always, I landed right in the middle of each one.

At the finish, reporters asked me questions about the race.  No one offered me water.
I staggered around for awhile, looking for water or, even better, watermelon.  I did find snow cones, which would be AWESOME if you had $2.

Post-race refreshments were replaced with a water slide.

The top 10 finishers won prize money.  This attracted a large professional field.  Unfortunately, the four professional women could not contend with the men.  Oddly, there were no overall women's awards so they were lumped into the age-groupers.  And, us age-groupers did not win money - we won Arabian Horse Show tickets!  Which, I think is pretty cool because my kids will like it.  I was 5th female.

At the finish, a reporter asked me if I would do this race again.
I told them, "Maybe."

Maybe if they provide watermelon.

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.

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.