The "L" Word

As of late, I have been practicing really, really hard at something, and have gotten really, really good at it.  I have been honing my craft, working to elevate it to its highest form or artistic representation.

I have been working toward becoming the laziest person on planet Earth.  And if not planet Earth, at least the laziest person in my area code.

It has literally become too much effort to work out.  And, many of you might want to kill me for saying this, I have loved every minute of it.

Augusta, as I have discussed ad nauseum, took a ton out of me, physically and mentally.  But I don't think it was just Augusta and the training leading up to it that did me in.  It was the past 3 1/2 years.  When I started running, I literally hit the ground running, and never stopped.  For 3 years, I was always training for something.  The training was everything I needed at the time, thanks to a terrible professional situation that was the focal point of my life (and my family's life) for 2 years.  Training helped me work out the stress, anger, and anxiety of that situation.  And I think Augusta was the finish line for a lot of things, figuratively speaking.  It was a culmination of this epic (sorry for the overused verbiage) life transformation that I thrust upon myself, and it was the release of a great many personal demons.  And those demons plopped themselves down, front and center, during the holidays.

With nothing to train for (at the time), I was left a little aimless in my fitness endeavors.  But I was also left with the baggage of the last few years, and realizing that I had never really, truly dealt with any of it, I hit a wall of emotions and anger that took me a bit by surprise.  This, of course, left me feeling physically weak and unmotivated to do anything about it.

I know, I know.  I should have hit the pavement and worked it out through training.  Believe me, I know just how beneficial training is for depression and anxiety.  But the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder if all of the training I have done for the last 3 years wasn't just a way for me to push aside the real issues I needed to look in the eye, a way for me to focus on something besides my internal pain, a kind of a band-aid.

I continue to enjoy my little hiatus from the world of "crushing it".  It has given me a lot of time to think, and think some more, about where I've been, where I am now, and where I am going.  I don't want to give up what I have spent the last 3 years working so hard for, because it has become a part of me, but I do want to make sure that I am doing it in order to become a better person, and not just to put a mask on the person that I already am.  Does that even make sense?  

And so, I have 4 more days of my lazy bliss before I begin training for my next race.  I am excited to dive in, I am excited to work hard, and I am excited to look at everything through new eyes.  My journey is continuing, just on a slightly more beaten path.

Looking Ahead

It has been a month since my big race, the glow has faded somewhat, and reality has set in.  The grind of daily life has ramped up, and I have found myself struggling to figure out how I was able to fit 9-10 hours of training in each week for 4 months amid all of the chaos swirling around me.  From my current vantage point, it seems impossible to undertake such an ambitious goal as I did, and it makes me feel tremendous mommy guilt.  A natural feeling, I suppose.

The best thing I can do for my family and myself is to keep pushing forward.  In the three years since I began running and racing, I have changed in such a fundamental way and it has been all for the better.  Sure, I have lost weight from my thighs, my arms, my tummy.  Even more important, though, has been the weight that has been lifted from the places that nobody can see.  I am physically and mentally stronger than I have ever been in my life, and I see no options other than to keep moving forward and to keep getting stronger.

I am ready to race again, but I know that my body needs a break.  I've been swimming and running (still not ready to hop back on the bike), working out about 4 times a week.  Core training and yoga are creeping their way back in to my routine, and all I can say about that is YOWCH! Take my advice, don't stop working on your core for 11 months. 

I have outlined very specific fitness and racing goals for 2014, and none of them involve a Half or a Full Ironman race.  Those days will come again in the not-too-distant future, I just need to have the time and energy to devote to those huge physical and mental undertakings. But, for now, I am looking to get faster, to improve and even perfect to a degree my short distance racing because, as slow as my time was at IM 70.3 Augusta, I really feel like my body and temperament are more cut out for long distance racing.  So, my challenge for 2014 is to conquer the short distances, and to feel fast.  And maybe see a podium finish here and there.


2014 Fitness Goals

1. To run a 25 minute 5k. That's an 8:02 min/mile pace, folks. Not exactly Usain Bolt territory, but lightning fast in my mind.

2. To run a 53 minute 10k. An 8:31 pace.  For me, that's equivalent to breaking the sound barrier.

3. A sub-3 hour Olympic triathlon. I'm planning on racing at St. Anthony's next April, which is where I did my first Olympic distance. It didn't turn out so well for me, I died on the run. Training for the race might have helped.  This time around, I plan on training long and hard. 2:59:59 is fine with me.

4. A podium finish in a Sprint triathlon. I won my age group once at a sprint triathlon.  It was beginner's luck, and all of the fast people were obviously racing elsewhere that day.  This time, I want to RACE and I want to EARN that podium spot honestly.

5. To get stronger on the bike. This is a bit ambiguous, but being that I am consistently at the bottom of the list in the bike department, I have nowhere to go but UP!  Strength training and long rides will be on the agenda in the coming year.

6. To join a Master's swim team. This is a big one. I have the opportunity, I have the means, now I just have to work up the courage to submit myself to a coach for the first time in a really long time.  I just hope she goes easy on me.  Well, not too easy.  Otherwise, what's the point?

I would love to hear some of your fitness goals!  None are too small and all are big!

The Triathlon Life For Me

Sunday, I got to play a brand new role: I was a sherpa/cheerleader/triathlon groupie at the Ameliaman/Atlantic Coast Triathlon in Fernandina Beach, Florida.  Having just come off Ironman Augusta 70.3, I was in no shape to "race", so I got to be a spectator at a triathlon for the very first time.

My husband was racing his very first 70.3 distance, and since he was patient/generous/gracious/wonderful enough to play the role of MY sherpa/cheerleader/triathlon groupie in Augusta, I thought it only fair that I do the very same thing for him.  That way, the kids could whine and complain cheer for their dad and their dad would have a reluctant enthusiastic cheering squad!

I was also fortunate enough to be able to cheer on and photograph many members of my tri club, who were competing in both the sprint and Olympic distance races.  And while in the wee hours of the pre-race dawn I was feeling edgy and weird that I wasn't zipping up my own wetsuit to race, I soon came to relish my opportunity to see my friends and fellow triathletes do what they do best, and see into their souls just a little bit.

It became obvious to me just why I have fallen so fast and hard for this triathlon life.  Yes, the training can get long and arduous.  Yes, the early morning wake-ups for races can be less than thrilling.  Yes, the hassle of hotels and travel can get old.  But, everything else makes up for those little things and then some.

Besides, how can anything be wrong with having the opportunity to witness this?

Or this?

I don't know that I usually take the time to appreciate the colors of sunrise when I am racing.  But I did yesterday, and I made a mental note to take a picture with my eyes of each and every sky before each and every race I do henceforth.

Watching my friends and teammates race yesterday gave me a little glimpse into their cores, and I came to love and appreciate them so much more.  Seeing their joy, their struggle, and their triumph made me appreciate the journey - both theirs and my own.  I mean, how can you NOT love triathlon when you know someone who can't stop smiling when she races?

Or these two bright and beautiful people who don't spend their days gardening or golfing, but who race and win at triathlon and life?

And sometimes, you have to turn the world upside down to really appreciate it:

Training for Augusta completely exhausted my body and my mind.  It took everything out of me, churned it up, and threw it into oncoming traffic.  Spending yesterday with my triathlon family was just the therapy I need to jolt me back to life.  Now, I can't wait to race again.

And the greatest payoff of all yesterday, for me, was seeing this guy cross his finish line:

Real men do triathlon!

My husband didn't think he could do a 70.3.  Even after watching me finish my race, he felt less prepared and less able.  But, as with everything else he puts his mind to, he showed himself that he WAS prepared and the he WAS MORE than able, and he showed that race who the boss was yesterday.  And I was happy to be a blissful observer.

The triathlon life.  It is SO for me.

Post Ironman Blues

Yeah, I know I didn't do a FULL 140.6. Tell that to my legs, though.  Eleven days later, and I am now feeling like I have been steamrolled.

Since Augusta, I have worked out exactly 4 times: 2 swims and 2 runs - well, if you want to call them runs.  They were slow, frustrating, and eye-opening.  It became painfully clear that I am a 40-year-old broad who's athletic career only began 3 1/2 short years ago.  My body is pooped.  I know I need to rest and recover, yes, I know that.  It's hard, though, to think that it wasn't two weeks ago that I was in the shape of my life, participating in a Half Ironman.  Where did that chick go?

In the days following the race, I was high.  I had the Iron High.  I felt invincible, like I could climb any mountain with my bare hands.  It reminds me a lot of how I felt after I delivered my two kids.  I felt like Superwoman because I had delivered life forth into the world from my womb!  And much like those experiences, my bliss was short-lived.  For the honeymoon always ends, and reality sets in, and we are back to the drawing board.

**And much like after I gave birth, my body at this very moment feels flabby, blubbery, slow, and uncooperative.  It's a bummer, man.

I have been doing a little reading on what's going on inside my noggin these last few days and, as it turns out, I am not alone.  Post Ironman Blues strikes athletes of every shape, size, and ability.  It makes sense.  You spend months preparing your body to go through the punishment of 5-8 hours of constant energy output (8-17 if you are training for a 140.6), and when it is all said and done, your body is sort of a shell of its former self.  It's like you leave yourself on the course, and have to endure a long wait to regenerate.  I'd reckon that I left a bit of myself somewhere in South Carolina on the bike course, as well as a tad on Broad Street in Augusta.

What's left is a battle in your brain.  A battle between common sense telling you to STOP ALREADY AND TAKE A BREAK and that ADHD/Type A compulsive triathlete person on the other shoulder desperately begging you to chase another finish line like, yesterday.  It's a lonely and aimless kind of feeling, being without a training plan to stick to, longing for some guidance because, just going for a run seems to have no purpose right now.  I've done big races before, and felt antsy to move on to the next goal.  But I wasn't really prepared for this.

I know I am not alone.  Right?

Now what?

I knew it was coming.

That inevitable withdrawal that happens after a big race, after the dust has settled, and the excitement has worn off.  Although, I still haven't quite come down from my Ironman high just yet.  I catch myself silently gloating, inside my head, "I did a Half Ironman!" and I'll a little bit, because I just never thought I would do anything like this in my life. Ever.  I never thought I would be a runner.  I never thought I would be a triathlete.  I never thought I would be an Ironman, even HALF an Ironman.  So, this is a big deal.  And I am enjoying my accomplishment.  But I am feeling a tiny bit lost.

I promised myself I would take the week off from any training.  My body and my mind needed the break.  I broke down on Thursday and went to the pool for a swim.  I thought it would be a good way to ease into some light training after the race, maybe do 3000 yards or so before picking my daughter up from school.  Ha!  About 1000 yards into my workout, and in the middle of a backstroke set, my legs said, "Uh, whatcha doin?"  I was definitely still feeling fatigue, even though my muscle aches had subsided the day before.  So I eked out 2300 yards and called it a day.  Tomorrow I might try some light running, 3 or so miles.  Because I have to do something, or I will go crazy!

To go from training 6 days a week and 7-8 workouts to basically not doing anything but a swim workout and some yoga has got me all cagey.  I got so used to being a slave to a training program, and I realize now that I really do function well when I have a plan (please do remind me that of this statement when I am in the middle of the next training program and I am moaning and groaning about being burned out from training, I can take the verbal spanking).  So, I have started thinking about the next few months, and the next year.  What do I want to accomplish, and how much do I want to punish my body again?

The more I cross the finish line, the more I crave it again.  For the rest of 2013, I am dialing way back.  I might do a 5k and the annual Turkey Trot 10k on Thanksgiving, but that is about it.  But for next year, I want more.

No, I'm not talking a full 140.6.  I'm not ready for that, and the training time that a race of that magnitude requires is unreal.  Hubby and I have already decided that if we are going to slay that dragon, it will be when at least one of our kids is in college.  And that's about 4 years off.  Training for a 70.3 was very time consuming, but we were able to make it work well enough, so I am thinking of tackling that distance again next year.  Maybe Augusta - that damned bike course is my nemesis - or maybe a different course.  I love having options!

It's funny.  For months, I was all big talk and "I am NEVER going to do another 70.3 again, this is killing me!" and "This is a one and done deal." Never, though, in any space in my brain did I ever make room for the possibility that completing a long course triathlon would make me feel so GOOD.  I feel good physically, I feel good mentally, I feel good old-fashioned HAPPY for the first time in a long while.  It certainly is one good natural high.

Ridiculously happy triathlete!

Everyone should try the drug called triathlon.  The high is unbeatable, and you can get it again and again and again.

Race Report: Ironman 70.3 Augusta, 9/29/13

Where to begin, where to begin...

In the days leading up to this race, I went from terror to doubt to resignation.  I figured I had done the best I could in terms of training, and the only way to see that was to just get out there and do it.  Being my first long distance triathlon, I know that my fear stemmed from the uncertainties: what would my body do, what would my mind do, would I drown, wreck, or cramp up?

Driving to Augusta, I was a ball of nerves.  My heart raced, my stomach fluttered, but it was all in a very good way.  I was excited to get there and I was finally excited to race.  As we drove through town toward the convention center (am I the only one that thinks that Augusta just might be the Detroit of the South?  I mean, there were dozens of abandoned buildings and store fronts!), I practically wanted to jump out of the car and run toward the expo.  The closer we got, the more bikes and Ironman bumper stickers I saw, and I wanted to sing, “I am actually doing this!”, but I kept my composure, lest I look like some kind of triathlon dork.  It was, after all, a race expo, not Comic Con.

I went to athlete check-in (it still makes me giggle to think that I am an ATHLETE), signed my life away to WTC, and got my beautiful blue wristband.  Talk about a badge of honor!  It was like being let into some very exclusive club, and I was giddy like I had just been handed a free puppy.  Then, on to collect my swag bag which, in my humble opinion was sort of pitiful.  The bag that our “swag” came in is beautiful and great and all, but where were the Gu samples, the Clif bars, even coupons for a free beer at the local pub after the race?  But, I digress.  I didn’t come for the free samples of Biofreeze, I had come to do an Ironman race!

Getting the wristband, no turning back now!

I dragged my husband and kids through the expo, including the Ironman store, where I emptied our bank account on a Finisher t-shirt, a water bottle, an Ironman visor, and cowbells for my kids/cheering section.  I also got to see some old triathlon friends from home, which helped to ease my nerves just a bit.

As the hours ticked away, and after I made the pilgrimage to transition to check my bike in (which involved a 1.2 mile hike from the swim start with my son...ant bites and sliding down hillsides were featured prominently, along with some good memories made with my favorite teenaged boy in the world) and we got checked in at the hotel, we went to dinner, and I began feeling oddly at peace with everything that was happening.  I was relaxed, feeling good, and had arrived at the point of just wanting to be in the race.

I slept like a baby, and at 4:15, the alarm sounded, and it was time to get it done.  I ate - half a peanut butter sandwich, a cup of Greek yogurt, and half a cup of coffee, along with a bottle of water and banana in the car on the way to transition - got myself dressed, and got my bleary-eyed children out of bed and to the car.  My husband dropped me off at transition so that I could unload my gear by my bike, and then I took the shuttle (actually a school bus) back to the swim start, where I met up with my family.  All before 6 a.m.  You gotta love living on triathlete time!

Then came the wait.  My swim wave was #14, and it left at 8:24.  The first wave - the pro men - left at 7:30.  We watched the pros leave from a bridge overlooking the Savannah River, and I tell you, watching those pros swim is impressive (and pretty intimidating).  After that, I had time to use the bathroom one last time, wriggle into my wet suit, eat a Huma Gel, and take a few photos with the family.  By that point, it was only a few minutes before shove-off.  Thankfully, I had run into a friend who was in my swim wave, and we were able to chat as they queued us up to pile on to the dock before the race start.  It really eased my nerves to have someone to talk to in those last moments!

Do I look like a triathlete to you?

It was finally time for our wave to approach the start line (the dock)!  We were not allowed to dive in, so rather than standing and taking a feet-first plunge, I decided to sit on the edge of the dock so that I could get my feet used to the water.  The water was 69 degrees, a little chilly, but not that bad at all.  Suddenly, our gun went off, and it was go time!

Wave 14 swim start

I hadn’t had any real warm-up time, so I decided to start slow and let my shoulders loosen up a bit.  I knew the swim would be faster than in other races, because we were swimming with the notoriously strong current of the Savannah River.  Within about 200-300 meters, I felt good enough to dial it up, and I was able to swim a good, strong stroke.  We all had a good amount of room to swim, and I only bumped into a few people along the way.  It was much less chaotic than any other race I have ever done.

My husband says I'm in there somewhere!

As I swam, I tried to sight the buoys to my left.  When I hit buoy number 8, I knew that I was almost done, and I felt like I had only just gotten in the water!  As I made the slight right turn toward the final buoy at the boat ramp, I realized that I felt really darned good.  I made my way up the boat ramp, and began the long jog to transition.  The transition area at this race was kind of labyrinthian, in that you had to snake up one side, then enter the area, then find your row, then find your bike.  I am happy to say that I did not get lost in transition once during the day!

In T1, I took time to dry my feet well, throw my wetsuit, goggles, and cap in a bag, and then I was off!  My family was waiting for me at the bike start to cheer for me, and it was beyond amazing to see my kids’ smiling faces. 

**I purposely did not try to rush through either T1 or T2, because I wanted to do everything to guarantee my comfort and nutrition.  My T-times were ok, around 6 and 8 minutes respectively, but I definitely know where I could trim seconds in the future.

Now came what I knew would be my ultimate test of the day: the bike ride.  I really don’t enjoy sitting on a bike from more than about an hour, so this was not only going to test my fitness, but it was also going to test my mental and emotional strength.  And it proved to be so much more than I had ever anticipated.  Weatherwise, it felt great.  Except for the requisite headwind that seemed to be present for about 70% of the ride.  Then there were the hills.  The damn hills.  What seemed like dozens of them, spread out over 56 long and arduous miles.  Long, slow inclines that never seemed to end.  Rapid descents that were actually fun and relieving.  And sharp points that felt like actual mountains rather than hills.  My top speed of the day was 37 miles per hour, which I hit briefly on a descent.  My slowest speed? An embarrassing 5.2 mph on this one short but brutal hill toward the end of the bike course.  We had just come down a good descent, took a corner, and this hill smacked us in the face.  Nobody that I was riding around saw it coming.  One poor woman and her bike tipped over because she couldn’t spin her pedals fast enough to keep climbing.

Pretty much the only time you would catch me smiling on the entire bike ride!

With each passing hill, from about 20 miles into the ride, I could feel my back getting a little worse.  Then my left hip.  Then my left IT band, which NEVER bothers me.  There was a point on one particularly long incline that I actually considered dismounting and walking my bike up the hill.  Of course, I realized how silly that was, and just soldiered on.  As much as I was hating the bike ride, I never EVER wanted to quit.  I wanted to be done, and I even told myself that it was the LAST time I would ever ride a bike, but I never even thought of throwing in the towel.

Aside from the hills, there were the bumps in the road to contend with.  I thought the roads here in Florida were in pitiful condition, but they are nothing compared to the roads in South Carolina.  It was bad enough having to dodge other racers’ litter - water bottles, bento boxes, power bars, gels, etc. - but the bumps were just awful.  I know that is what contributed to my back pain during the race.  I would say that about 30-35 miles of the roads were so bad that I thought for sure that I was about to blow a tire at any moment.  Thankfully, I didn’t, but I saw plenty of people who did.  And there were plenty of sections, especially close to Augusta, that had had recent road repairs, so at least there was something to be thankful for.  Rapport among the athletes on the bike course was ok.  I briefly chatted with several nice folks, mostly commiserating about the hills and bumps.  I got passed A LOT, and I knew I would.  Most everyone did the right thing, announcing “on your left” as they approached.  But there were a few occasions when I nearly got run down by some meathead who couldn’t be bothered to have manners.  On the rare occasion that I passed another cyclist, I looked over my shoulder 2 or 3 times before passing, and almost always there was a cluster of bikes coming up behind me.  The course was crowded in a few spots, especially at the aid stations, so you really had to be alert the entire time.  There was no room in my plan for a bike wreck.

One thing that I was successful with during the bike ride was my nutrition.  Two bottles of electrolyte drink in my aerobottle, and a strawberry Huma Gel every hour helped keep me going.  Though, I did begin to feel actual hunger toward the end of the bike ride, which scared me a bit for the run.  I was ok, though, and made sure to take the Coke that was offered at the last few aid stations of the run course.  You wanna know what tastes better than just about anything on this planet?  Warm, flat Coke after having been working out for 6+ hours.  Don't believe me?  Try it.

As the bike ride blessedly came to an end, I knew from my bike computer that I had gone about 3 hours, 40 minutes, which is about what I had expected.  Slower than I should be, but considering I’d never biked any of the course, it was ok with me.  The most important thing was that it was OVER, and it was time to run a half marathon.

I racked my bike, changed my socks, put on my running shoes, race belt, and visor, and headed off to the maze toward the run start.  I stopped at the sunscreen tent and let them lube me up, which likely contributed to my longer T2 time, but I was glad I did.  The run course had lots of shade, but it also had lots of spots in the open sun, and I tell you, it was one gorgeous day out.  

I did my 60 second walk out of transition, like I had trained for, before beginning to run.  I went slow, which was ok with me.  In order to finish in 7 hours, I knew I had to run between a 2:45 and 3:00 half marathon.  This killed me, because my slowest half to date was Iron Girl back in April, and I did that in 2:23 while suffering from debilitating calf cramps.  But, I was more focused on finishing this race than setting any sort of land speed record.

I felt pretty good as the run began.  I was 2/3 done with the race, and most importantly, I had survived the bike ride!  I walked through the first water station, drank some electrolytes and some water, and moved along.  About 2 1/2 miles into the run, we were into downtown Augusta, and the crowds picked up.  The course support all day long was incredible, from the volunteers to the local folks who had come out, sporting funny hats and hilarious signs to keep the athletes moving, motivated, and smiling.  It was at this point that I looked up, and standing on one corner were my kids, screaming and smiling for me, shaking their cowbells at me.  In that moment, I was so overcome with emotion, and I could feel the tears welling up, and I wanted to just break down right there.  I knew right then and there that I was going to finish the race!  The emotions were powerful, powerful beyond words.  For my kids to see me pushing through the pain and exhaustion to reach a goal was humbling.  There was no way I wouldn’t cross that finish line.

Are we having fun yet?

I felt great for about 7 miles of the run.  Then fatigue really began to set in.  I started walking more and for longer periods of time.  I never wanted to quit AT ALL, I just wanted to be finished.  As I made the second loop downtown, I had noticed the crowds were a lot smaller than they had been, so the encouragement began to come from us athletes.  We were in the final stages of this journey together, and we lifted each other up.  We talked about how much food we were going to eat, how we couldn’t wait to have a beer, whether this was our first Ironman 70.3.  I congratulated a fellow 40-year-old woman, who promptly answered back with, “you go girl!”.  I watched as runners began to lose hope, and their physical strength, but never their spirits.  I was inspired by those around me, some much younger and some much older, who were out there doing it for their own personal reasons, reasons as important and huge as mine or anyone else's.  To be surrounded by that kind of  emotion makes you feel super human.  In the midst of the pain and the exhaustion (and the extreme hunger!), I had never felt more alive in my entire life.

Turning the corner at 11 miles, I could hear the finish line commotion, and I knew that it was inevitable.  I was going to finish the race, wow!  As I turned the final corner, a lady standing there shouted, “one more corner and you can SEE the finish line!” I picked it up.  All of the aches and twinges I was feeling were suddenly gone!  I rounded that last corner, and there it was: the finish chute!  Lined with people, and the gray Ironman carpet, it was a sight to behold.  I tore down the chute, and as I crossed the line I pumped my fists in victory.  It was an unbelievable feeling.

They know their mom is one tough old lady now!

All of the training.  All of the pain.  All of the time.  It had all led to that moment.  And it was so worth it.

I was ready all along.  

Ironman 70.3 Augusta 

Swim: 29:48

Bike: 3:40:32

Run: 2:31:44

Finish Time: 6:57:48

**My race wasn’t perfect.  I beat my goal time of 7 hours, but I know I could have done better, especially on the run, and probably shaved off at least 10 minutes.  But I hadn’t felt that kind of jubilation in a race since my very first triathlon two years ago.  So, after all of that talk about “one and done”, I think I want to go again.  

Taper Madness

As the days tick away, and race day approaches rapidly, I have become one horrible person to live with (just ask my husband, he will nod his head enthusiastically).  My training has tapered WAY DOWN, and my body aches from the shock of not punishing it with 4-hour megaworkouts.  My mind is racing constantly with fears, worries, scenarios, and images of the FINISH LINE on Sunday.  I am positively irrational with my husband and kids, and I know they think I have lost my mind.  I have gone from defiance to denial to downright depression to finally, excitement, all in the span of about 7 days.  But, the fact remains, 

I AM RACING AN IRONMAN 70.3 IN 3 DAYS!!

I think - no, I know - I am ready.  The bike ride still scares me to death.  I worry most about getting a flat, getting flustered and taking 3 hours to change it, causing me to get swept off the course by the clock police.

The run scares me a bit, too.  But only because it will feel like an eternity after sitting on my bike for 3 1/2+ hours.  I just hope my legs and brain can work together to get me to the end!

I keep envisioning the finish line.  If I don't puke, I will cry.  Like a baby.  Ugly crying, too.

I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately.  Always my biggest critic - and loudest cheerleader - my dad would have doubted my ability to do this, but would have supported me to the very end.  I wonder if he would understand and respect what an undertaking this has been, what a physical and emotional trip I have taken?  Probably not.  But I hope that he will be with me on Sunday, shouting at me to "GO Goddamn it!", just like he did when I wasn't swimming fast enough for his liking so many years ago.

Two years ago I did my first triathlon.  Two years ago, I did that little sprint race, and it changed me.  I was scared then, and I showed myself that I was made of more than I ever knew.  I crossed the finish line that day and fell into the arms of my husband and my kids, and they celebrated with me.  Sunday, when I cross the finish line in Augusta, my husband and my kids will be there, and I will remember that feeling I had at that first race, and I am sure that I will be overwhelmed and exhausted and elated and about 100 other things that I have yet to experience.  But, above everything, I will be grateful.  Because, you know, I am just a 40-year-old mom, an ordinary old lady who hopes that her kids can take something away from watching their mom suffer a little bit.  

See you again in 70.3 miles!

What's so wrong about being afraid?

Wow.  I've been gone a while.  All 2 of my readers have undoubtedly abandoned me, so I guess I am left to blog at a blank wall.  It has been a long couple of months, but here I am, a mere 10 days (10 DAYS!) out from the race that I have put my life on hold to do.  Ironman 70.3 Augusta is almost here, and I have to be at the starting line on September 29, ready or not.  Am I ready?  That remains to be seen.

I have been training.  Hard.  Hard for me, anyway.  Bike ride after bike ride, and run after run, and swim after swim have left me mentally and physically drained.  I've discovered new limits for myself, and I just hope that I will have the capacity to bust through them on race day.

I've made no secret to friends and family about just how scared I am to do this race.  And I have taken a bit of crap for expressing this feeling.  Among my favorite (note sarcasm here) comments are:

• What are you so scared for?  It's easy! I doubt you'll find a long course triathlete ANYWHERE that would say that what they do can be described as easy.
• Noone is making you do this.  NO shit.  I entered into this willingly.  I also entered into childbirth willingly, and I was scared to death of that the first time, too.
• It is supposed to be fun.  It is fun.  Otherwise, I would have taken up knitting (which would likely NOT be fun and end with me shoving the needles in my eyes from boredom) or raising chickens or puppies or something else.  But I like to race, and I love the finish line!  
• Don't give in to the fear monster.  New age crap like that really annoys me.

First off, let me begin by saying that it warms me when anyone cares enough about me to make an attempt to help me assuage my neuroses.  With that being said, it is obvious that you don't know me.

I am not a quitter.  I have not suffered through months of injury, given up weekends with my kids, and awakened at 3:30 in the morning for workouts in order to run in the opposite direction of this race.  I am not a fall-down-and-die kind of gal when things seem tough or frightening.

But, if you are afraid of something, it is OK to say it, write it, and feel it.  Boys and girls, fear doesn't define you if it resides in you.  Fear is just renting space until you kick it to the curb by showing it the door.

The fear that I feel is very palpable, and it is sitting squarely on my bicycle.  About halfway through my training, I began to experience terrible back pain during even short bike rides.  Soon, I was rendered pretty much immobile.  I couldn't bend over, reach, lift anything at all, or sit upright for even a few minutes.  Icing, heating, stretching, NOTHING helped.  Except for training.  Training - running, mostly - made the pain go away temporarily, but it would return a few hours after my workouts.  After having to take a week off from my training when the pain got unbearable - missing a few key long rides - I went to an Orthopedist, who x-rayed my back.  As it turns out, I have a stress fracture in one of my lumbar vertebrae, which I have probably had for years and years.  When the volume of my training jacked up, it irritated the fracture, and caused me the intense back pain along with severe sciatica.  I powered through workouts (medicated, mind you), despite the pain, and eventually the pain subsided.  I got my bike adjusted, too, which has helped tremendously.

Because my long rides have been so extremely painful, thanks to the achy breaky back, I am seriously dreading sitting in the saddle for 3 1/2 + hours on race day.  I worry that I will be in that same terrible pain, with no strength to do the most mundane things after I cross the finish line.  And it makes me wonder if all of this has been worth it.  So, you see, I'm not just a scaredy cat because it is new and unknown - that fear is there, of course - but I am afraid that I won't be able to do it again if I choose to.  I am afraid that my body is going to fail. 

But I will not quit the race.

What is so wrong with being scared of something?  Better yet, what is so terrible about acknowledging it aloud?  Fear is a powerful force, motivating even.  It's true, some people would avoid, run, and hide from fear.  But that's not me.  But I am also not going to ignore the "fear monster" that is lurking inside my head.  Ignoring it doesn't make it go away.  Acknowledging it means that I am ready to put up a fight.  Without the gloves.  So FEAR better be ready to rumble come September 29.

Do these rest days make me look weak?

All I wanted to do was train for this little Half Ironman race without getting injured.  Unrealistic?  Probably.  Too much to ask?  I suppose.  Inevitable?  Yep.

My back, to put it bluntly, is jacked up.  I've strained my lower back but good, and some days I can't even bend over.  Ironically, I feel great when I race and workout.  But the day to day activities of life are painful.  It hurts to stand, it hurts to sit, it hurts to lay, it hurts to reach, it hurts to walk.

I know exactly how I did it, too.  Such a rookie mistake.  I got a new saddle for my bike and I didn't get it properly fit on my bike.  In an effort to alleviate the complete and total numbing of my nether regions during long rides, I have turned the back side of my body inside out.  

My husband installed my saddle.  And no, I'm not blaming him, it's my fault.  When it comes to pain, I don't like to complain, and I figured the sit bone pain was normal, along with the achy lower back.  I figured it was just because I was sitting differently on the new saddle, and as my body adjusted, the pain would subside.  Boy, was I incorrect about that assumption.

I awoke one morning after a long ride and I could not get out of bed.  I couldn't bend over the sink to brush my teeth without having to support my upper body with my elbows.  I couldn't turn, I couldn't do anything.  And no, I didn't go to the doctor.  That's another story for another day.  But I did ice it, and I did spend several consecutive days doing agonizing yoga poses that weren't ordinarily agonizing.  I felt 100 years old.

So I've suffered through a few bike workouts, I've even raced a short sprint tri.  I felt great during and after the race, even the next morning.  But the aches crept back in my back.  And they haven't gone away entirely.  As I sit and type this, my lower back feels tightly wound.  

And now, smack in the middle of my half Ironman training program, I have missed several key workouts in an effort to get better and feel stronger, so that I can tackle the hell that comes in the back half of the training program, not to mention the 8 hours of hell that will come on race day.  I took 4 days off from training, luckily during a recovery week.  Yoga had become a daily routine again, and I realized that it never should have stopped being part of my daily routine.  And ice is my new best friend.

I'm finding that my social media does little to make me feel better.  Friends are training hard and strong, and I feel soft and weak.  Others inadvertently post comments about getting out there and killing it and crushing it and getting it done, as if I don't want to be doing those things.  I'm trying to tell myself that I have to live with this body for the next 40 years or so, and one damn race is just a speck in the grand scheme of things.  I am jealous of people who can bend over and pick something up from the floor and not think twice about it.

But I am getting better each day.  Those 4 days with no workouts (other than my yoga) were long and frustrating and riddled with guilt, but I am ready to face this week with mew eyes, a stronger back, and the determination to move forward in my quest to be half an Ironman.  So if those 4 days off make me look weak, so be it.  My body was screaming out to slow it down, take it in, and enjoy the ride at a bit slower pace.  The finish line at Ironman 70.3 Augusta will be there, and so will I.

Ironman Augusta 70.3 Training Log, Week #6

I am deeply entrenched into the training program, and it has successfully overtaken just about every aspect of my life.  Midway into the sixth week, I am starting to experience the telltale signs of training stress: the tweaks, the aches, the fatigue.  I am trying to stay focused, and keep my eyes on the prize.  The prize being that feeling of crossing the finish line and knowing that I have pushed my body and spent all of its resources without taking it all for granted.

Last week's training was tough, I'm not going to lie.  As much as I would love to sit here and say that I am coasting through each training session, I just can't.  Even the swims are tough, and those usually feel like a rest day for me.  The fourth training week was a recovery week, meaning the workouts were shorter and less strenuous than the week before, and I was successful at completing each and every minute of them.  Last week, the fifth week, not only put me back on the track, but it thrust me into the fast lane.  While I completed every minute of every scheduled workout of the week, I paid for it in pain and exhaustion.  The training plan seems to ignore the 10% rule, and my mileage was jacked up a lot more than that, particularly in the running department, arguably my weakest link in the triathlon chain.  

A rough 75-minute run on Sunday on a really hilly course has left me spent.  I worked through it during Monday's 60-minute swim, successfully completing five 500-yard sets intermingled with some 100-yard backstroke recovery sets, for a total of 3100 yards.  Yesterday brought a 60-minute bike ride, and my legs wanted nothing to do with it.  I got through it, at a glacial 14-15 mph average pace.

My hamstring is giving me fits again, and I am just so fearful of being injured.  I do not want to be the one who limps through a race for 9 hours.  I want to be the one who triumphantly completes the race, feeling spent but strong.  

This morning, the plan was to do a 60-minute interval run.  My husband and I were up and out the door before 5 a.m., and it became quickly apparent that there would be no intervals, and that 60 minutes was a laughable suggestion.  I came to the conclusion that I still have 10 weeks of training and that little Half Ironman triathlon to get through, and I'd like to do it injury-free, so we hobbled through a mere 30-minute run, choosing to listen to our bodies rather than pound through the pain.  Sometimes it is smarter to back off in order to be able to keep playing until the end of the game.

If it sounds difficult, it is.  If I sound beaten down, I'm not quite there.  The workouts are tough, but the gratitude I feel toward my body at the end of the day makes it worth it.  With as little time that we are given in our bodies, I think it is a shame to waste that time not seeing what they are capable of.  

Overall, I am enjoying the training.  Most days after a workout, I feel strong and pleased with my progress, even if I feel weakened and sore.  The aches and the tweaks are to be expected, I have done this enough at this point to know that.  What I need to continue to work on is my recovery and my nutrition, both of which are lacking.  It's difficult to take the time to stretch, roll, and rest when I've already taken so much time away from my family to do the workouts.  I suppose that I can swim, bike, and run through some of the fatigue and pain, but I will never be able to outpace that damned guilt.

Onward and upward!

Ironman Augusta 70.3 Training Log, Week #1

I made it through the first week of honest-to-goodness training for Ironman Augusta 70.3.  It was a tough week, emotionally and physically, and there were moments that I wondered why I am putting my body through this.  If you've ever trained for a triathlon or any big race, then you probably realize that thinking that way in the first week of a training program is not really a good thing.

The workouts weren't difficult.  They were tiring, and I realized that I have some work to do so that I do not go splat on the race course in September.

Monday - I was supposed to swim 45 minutes, but given the fact that our dog passed away, I took a rest day.  By that, I mean I lay on my couch and cried all day long and into the wee hours of the night.

Tuesday - I decided to make up for missing Monday's swim by doubling up.  I did a road ride for the schedules 60 minutes in the morning - a little over 16 miles - and swam in the early evening as my kids were practicing with their swim team.  Doubles usually don't bother me, especially if there is no running involved, but this workout day left me drained.

Wednesday - A 45-minute run, which ended up being 4.65 miles and included a longer-than-should-have-been walk break.  I have talked about my absolute LOVE of running before, and today it enveloped me like a big sweaty grizzly bear and choked the hell out of me.  I felt clunky and uncoordinated, and SLOW.  The humidity in Florida in the summer cannot adequately be described, it must be experienced.  Even at 4:45 a.m., it is a mean and mocking little SOB.  In the cool months of winter, I almost get to the point where I like running.  But in June, I want to humiliate it in front of its friends.

Thursday - I swam again while the kiddos practiced, and got in 2000 yards in 42 minutes.  The plan called for 45 minutes, but I doubt the 3 minutes lost is going to make a bit of difference in the end.  I worked on my backstroke, and 600 yards of the workout was kicking drills because I have no kick and, for their size, extremely weak legs.  This affects me not only in the pool, but also on the bike.  So, despite the fact that I practically move backwards in the pool when I do it, I did kick drills.  And I also observed that 9-15 year-olds swim a lot faster than I do.

Friday - A rest day, amen and hallelujah!  When training for any type of race, you grow to relish rest days, even if you have a twinge of guilt over not training on those days.  Especially when you see someone working out.  Then you feel lazy.  Somehow, though, I manage to get over it as I sip my cold drink while lying by my pool.

Saturday - Weekend workouts are the long workouts, and both my husband and I moan and groan about them while in training.  Today, we were working out with some people from our tri club, a swim-bike brick workout.  I had a decent swim, I felt a little tired but was still able to get in 1900 yards of mostly freestyle and a little backstroke, plus I more than made up for the 3 minutes I skipped out on during Thursday's swim.  That was followed by the bike ride from hell, a hilly and painful 22 mile ride on county roads. My favorite part was having a panic attack when we went over Interstate 75.  Bridges scare the hell out of me, and I wasn't expecting to have to deal with an overpass, whose bike lane was a little too narrow and close to the edge for me.  Oh, and the tractor truck that blew by me at the precise moment that I looked down at the road below when I really do know better than to do that was just the cherry on the cake.  And I realized that I need a new bike saddle.  In fact, I am reminded - even at this moment - every time I sit down.

Sunday - Long run day, my favorite day!  Not really.  We were thankful for an overcast morning and there was a breeze, so the humidity behaved itself somewhat.  Both husband and I were really tired, our legs were tired, our arms were tired, our brains were close to flatlining.  So we did a run/walk/run thing.  We ran a mile and walked one minute, for 6.2 miles.  It was actually quite pleasant, we could talk to each other during the workout, and the walking only slowed us down a little bit.  The run/walk thing is difficult for a lot of runners, because you don't feel like it's really a run if you do any walking whatsoever.  To that, I say get over yourself.  It took me a while to get there, but I am realizing that my legs feel less tired for the rest of the day when I give them a little bit of a break during some workouts.

Total training time logged: 6 hours, 24 minutes


I realize now that my fatigue is likely the result of two doubles during the week.  I feel good that I was able to get in all of my scheduled workouts, and didn't have the urge to blow off even one of them.  It's like being able to check every item off a to-do list, and if you are like me, then you are all like, Yes!  I got it ALL done!  I am Super-multitasker! And then you make your next to-do list.  

On to week #2!

70.3 or Bust

I turn 40 this year.  In about 3 months, actually.  There are a lot of things about that fact that are unbelievable to me.  For example, I feel very much like a child inside my head.  Like, there is no way that I have survived on this planet for 40 years, 22 of those years as an independent adult!  Wow!  But I digress.

I am choosing to celebrate my 40th year of living by using (some might say abusing) the body that I was given, and pushing it to its ultimate limit (so far).  I am going to race, of course.  Specifically, I am racing Ironman 70.3 Augusta!  

This is a challenge, a big one.  I am a big mixed up bag of emotions: excited, scared, intimidated, thrilled.  

My training program begins officially on June 10.  It is a 16-week program, and after careful research and option-weighing, I chose it for a few reasons:

• It's 16 weeks.  Not 20 weeks.  Not 24 weeks.  A longer race does not necessarily require a longer training program.  My husband trained for 20 weeks for a marathon and I trained for 20 weeks for back to back half marathons.  It left us exhausted, injured, and sick of running.  I want to be healthy and excited about the next race when I cross the finish line.
• I'm in reasonably good condition.  I've been swimming, A LOT.  I've been doing a fair amount of cycling, my rides being between 15-30 miles.  Running, well, I have backed way off to let my foot and hamstring heal.  But, that can be picked back up reasonably easily.  
• The training plan does not suck up all of my free time.  I have kids, I have a house, I have a job.  I also have a life outside of training.  The really long workouts are confined to the weekends, and the bulk of the program is happening over the summer, when the kids are out of school and therefore have freer schedules, and I have evening daylight that provides extra training time.

I have a lot to do before race day.  I have to book a hotel for the long weekend - which will include a night in Savannah so that I can pig out at Lulu's Chocolate Bar.  I have to get new wheels for my bike, a new bike helmet, and a hydration system.  I have to learn how to tolerate eating nutrition gels without gagging and puking, and I have to learn how to take nutrition on my bike without careening off the road and into a tree.  I need new running shoes, preferably these beauties.  And there is a ton of other stuff  to prepare for that I am sure will come up on this fairly short but intense journey.  I actually haven't even gotten around to thinking about RACE DAY yet!

So, for 40, I will be crowned half an Ironman.  Some people go on a bender.  Some people get liposuction.  This is my way of honoring myself - by swimming, and biking, and running, and sweating, and cramping, and cussing 5 hours into the race at myself...