The Information Superhighway is Experiencing Delays

This will be stream of consciousness. I apologize in advance.

In an effort to find out more information about hyperthyroidism and thyroid disease, I have been scouring the Internet for reliable sources that will educate me enough to fight work with my doctor regarding my care. I have also joined 2 Facebook groups in the hopes of connecting with others who are experiencing some of the same issues as I am. I am now thinking that this was not such a great idea, though. All it has done has scared the ever-living hell out of me. From reading about cardiac arrest to heart failure to thyroid storm to bulging eyes to leaky guts to hearts pounding in throats all the live long day, I feel this strange combination of over-informed, misinformed, and uninformed.

I'm beginning to think that life was better when I didn't know what was going on and I was just feeling crappy all the time. Ignorance is bliss, or at least less disturbing than the "knowledge" that I have now.

And I still have a week before I go in for more thorough testing. I reckon this is so that the doctor can see if my thyroid levels have stabilized, changed, or gotten worse over time. And now that I know what the issue is, I am finding that all of the weird things that I thought were because of anemia or asthma or pre-menopause are just more obvious and amplified. This is making me edgier and more anxious to get the tests done. I am still in a gray area, but it's more like a big gray loop that I just keep going around and around.

I don't want to have something wrong with me. I don't want to always think and talk and write about hyperthyroidism of Graves Disease or autoimmune disfunction. I want to go back to the way it used to be, when I complained about how much I hate running, how slow I am on a road bike, and how freaked out I am about an upcoming race. Not knowing if I can do the things that I thought I hated, but now realize were a gift and a privilege, is frankly pissing me off. I don't want to be told that I CAN'T run or exert myself, I don't want that decision made for me.

As long as I am upright, I will keep moving, though. Even if it is mere walking, or yoga. This isn't the worst thing in the world, it is just an adjustment. There are others far worse off than me, by a long shot, and I need to put this into perspective.

On a side note, I have completed 23 days of my May Runstreak. I am plowing through, I have 8 days left! For June, I plan on swimming 20 total miles for the month as my fitness goal. Having a goal is a great thing.

Just Breathe

After a miserable race at St. Anthony's Triathlon a few weekends ago that I would just like to put behind me (although, I am happy to report that I dropped more than 4 minutes off my swim time from that race 2 years ago!), May 1 arrived and it was time to hold up the bargain I made with myself, and start my runstreak. I was a little afraid, a little hesitant, and honestly dreading the idea of running 31 days in a row.

It was an ugly race for me, but at least I got this really cool (although really heavy) stained glass finisher medal

Before I was able to hit the pavement for my first run of the month, though, I had to visit the doctor. I've talked about how difficult running and training have been for me for the past several months. Mostly, my lung capacity has felt compromised when running (also a little with swimming and cycling), as if there is a cork in my windpipe keeping me from taking in enough air when I try to run faster than a jog. After doing a little research on my own, I began to think I had developed exercise-induced asthma. But I also worried that there were other issues afoot, thanks to my nearly-constant physical fatigue.

I visited an Internist, a nice enough woman who seemed to agree with my self-diagnosis, and prescribed me an Albuterol inhaler and some allergy medication. Four vials of blood were sucked out of me, and a complete blood work-up was ordered.

My first run after using my inhaler was nothing short of miraculous. Though my endurance is in a seriously pitiful place, I was able to run AND breathe simultaneously. I did not have to stop and bend over in order to attempt to suck in as much air as I could, and I did not feel even the slightest bit of panic due to the feeling of being strangled. It was as if I had been renewed. I felt like a runner again! I don't love using the inhaler, I hate being on medication, but I feel like it is helping me, and I am grateful for having a set of lungs filled with air again!

So back to the runstreak. It is now May 7, and I have run 7 days in a row! I am running 1.5 - 2.75 miles per day. I know the distance isn't there - YET - but I am already beginning to feel as if I could run farther at the end of each run. It is hot and humid outside, but now that I can breathe again, I feel like I have power and I feel my speed gradually beginning to return. This weekend, I plan to run a 4-miler, then next weekend, a 5-miler, then the next weekend, a 6-miler, and I plan to cap the month off with a 7-miler. Surprisingly, my legs feel strong each day. I suppose that is because I am not doing any real distance each day, but the continuity and the steadiness of my pace is hopefully allowing my legs to ease back into some real strength (and some of my thigh cheese to melt away). Incredibly, right now, I don't hate running. I am, however, frustrated with the feeling that I am starting over again completely.

My lab results came back yesterday, and my thyroid tested in the hyper range. I had feared that I had hypothyroidism, like my father, so this was a weird twist. Side effects of hyperthyroidism include shortness of breath (check!), restless sleep (bingo!), itchy & dry skin (bullseye!), moodiness & depression (BOOM), among a few others. I go back in 4 weeks to have my thyroid tested again, and we go from there. But to now know that there is a concrete reason for feeling like I have been falling apart for the past year or so is a such a huge relief.

One week down, three to go in my runstreak, and there's no real finish line in sight. My goals now are more humble, more like baby steps than giant leaps. I know that it will all come back to me, in due time.

Run Streak

Hello again to all of my invisible readers!

It has been a good, long while since I have had the desire to sit down and write about anything here, or anywhere for that matter. I'm in the middle of some kind of change, physically and emotionally, and I don't know why or what or how. Waking up each morning, I question my purpose on this rock, and each day, I go to bed no closer to the answer. 

My internal crisis is not the point of this post, however. I have been thinking for a while about ways to change things up, in my fitness and training routine, that is. I had to face the cold and hard fact that I am just plain tired of training all the time, especially for triathlons. And I am even more tired of "racing". I think I broke some kind of unwritten rule when I began racing 3 years ago, and I did way too much way too fast and the honeymoon of it all ended rather quickly and abruptly. 

If I had one piece of advice to offer anyone who is new to running, multisport, or fitness in general, it is this: TAKE YOUR TIME. Don't be in such a hurry to accomplish everything at once. Enjoy the journey that your body and mind are going through, and pace yourself (literally and hypothetically). Allow yourself the time to savor each accomplishment before tackling the next one. You will enjoy yourself a lot more, and you will perform better because you have been kind to your body. Learn from my mistakes.

Anyway, at the end of this month, I am doing one last race for a long while, St. Anthony's Triathlon in St. Petersburg. Training has been tough, due to weather (RAIN, WIND, COLD!!!), due to my kids' seemingly endless stream of weekend swim meets, and due to my complete apathy. But, I will get it done (which is no attitude to have, I tell you!). Beyond that, I have nothing scheduled. This is both relieving and terrifying at the same time.

Because I have no races to dread look forward to, I have been trying to think of some challenge that I can present myself which will keep my body moving, and maybe even help me find my way back to loving somewhat enjoying running. And a few days ago, it hit me: A RUN STREAK. I was inspired by a few friends that did this several months back, and I have one friend who is attempting a run streak for over a year (that's crazy and incredible!).

Beginning May 1, I will run at least 1 mile each and every day of the month, rain or shine, humidity be damned. I hope to run at least 15 miles per week, and I hope to coerce recruit some friends to join in with me, both for accountability and for moral support. This isn't going to be a competition of any sort, other than with the person that stares back at me in the mirror each morning. For me, I have found the best person to compete with is myself.

It's not a huge achievement, but it is what I can manage right now. And I am hoping that it will help me remember why I began running in the first place, four years ago this month. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I will be running toward something instead of letting it chase me away.

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!

Observations in Idleness

I have made a few key observations since my last race.  This is the first time in close to three years that I am not actively training for some race, even just a 5k, and aside from the mental issues (that sounds weird, right?) I am dealing with, there are the physical issues that have arisen that have taken me completely by surprise.  I made a conscious decision to back off training and to not race anymore this year; not to be completely idle, but to just give myself a little rest after a tough year of races, injury, and general bad crap that has happened in my life.  I expected to feel fatigue as an after-effect of the months of heavy training I did for Augusta, but wow, am I surprised to see and feel my body's reaction to well, inactivity.

I am TIRED.  Like physically exhausted.  All the time.  Saturday night I fell asleep at 7:30 p.m., and did not wake up until almost 7 the next morning (which, for someone like me, might as well be lunchtime).  And my normal afternoon lull is more like a walking coma.

I am SORE.  My everything hurts.  My knees are achy, my shoulders hurt, my back is acting up.  When I have done a workout, I notice that my stamina is already beginning to wane.  It seems that the LACK of activity makes me hurt more than any punishment of hard training ever did.

I am HUNGRY.  ALL. THE. TIME.  You'd think the decrease in training would equate to a decrease in appetite. Listen closely to the sounds of the diet gods slapping their knees and guffawing wildly at the presumption!!  My tummy still thinks it's feeding a person engaged in 8-10 hours of training per week.  My hips are fully aware that the exact opposite is true, and have laid out the welcome mat for the excess calories that are being consumed.  I know, I know, I need to put the kibosh on the carbs.  I don't need a lecture.

I am SQUIRRELY.  One minute I want to sign up for every race within 100 miles of my house.  The next minute I want to get a bowl of ice cream.  When I do get out for a workout, I feel good, but sitting on the couch feels pretty amazing, too.  There are two distinct personalities waging a little battle within me right now: the Type A triathlete who is dying to race again and the lazy slacker who wants you to pass the Chips Ahoy.

My MIGRAINES have returned.  I used to get migraines pretty regularly.  As a teen, I was on copious amounts of meds for them.  They subsided greatly when I was pregnant and nursing, but returned with a vengeance in my mid-30's. When I began running and racing, I noticed that they only came around a few times a year, and didn't hang around for as long.  In the last three weeks since I raced at Augusta, I have gotten three doozies, two of them in the past seven days alone.  Migraines make me MUCH less pleasant than I am now which, unless I am driving, is pretty darned pleasant.

I thought taking a break from training would be exactly what I needed.  And it is.  The problem that I am faced with, though, is that I don't know how to just go for a run, or take my bike out for a ride.  I think with all the training that I've been doing over the last few years, I never learned how to just enjoy a workout that has no real purpose but to release stress, burn calories, and clear my head.

My body is sending me a loud and clear message.  That message being, "Get off your butt, or I am going to go into full-on attack mode."  So, obviously, it is time for action.

My goal for the next two weeks is to head out my front door, and just run.  NO intervals, NO tempo, NO time or distance goal.  I want to see if I can find a happy running place, because goodness knows that has been an issue in the short history that is this fitness lifestyle of mine.  Then maybe my bike and I can kiss and make up.

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.

Race Report: Twilight Triathlon Crystal River, FL 7/28/13

This was only my second triathlon of 2013.  I know, I'm way behind.  But I've been training hard for the big boy - IM Augusta 70.3 - so it's not like I've been just hanging out.  It was a shorter sprint distance race - 400 meter swim, 10 mile bike ride, 3 mile run.

This race was a little bit different.  Like the name implies, the start was around dusk - 7:30 p.m.  The race organizers touted that almost everyone would cross the finish line at sunset. What a romantic sentiment.  They obviously hadn't given much thought to the likes of this mediocre triathlete. 

I wasn't really nervous at all for the race, I was very much looking forward to it, actually.  I have been putting in a lot of time in the pool, and I was anxious to see if my swim had improved.  I never have great swims in the open water, but I was determined to get over that and PR on the 400 meter swim.

At the race start, all of us women lined up on the shore in our pink caps.  Following my husband's advice, I planted my toes in the sand right up front.  I am usually in the back, so as to avoid getting kicked, punched, puled, etc.  As the siren sounded for the start, I took off, dove in, and went for it.  The water was bathtub warm, pretty swirly, and really cloudy - this swim is not the best representation of the normally clear and beautiful Gulf of Mexico.  I felt great as I swam, I managed to not get punched, and only had minor collisions. Until about 150 meters in, that is.  As I brought my right arm up mid-stroke, I realized that I had something in my hand.  It was a swim cap.  I had somehow yanked a cap off a fellow athlete.  I immediately looked up and saw her behind me.  All I could do was toss the cap at her, apologize profusely, and keep going.  That was definitely one of the weirder things that's happened to me in a tri!

I stayed the course on the swim, I saw myself passing a lot of swimmers, even some men that had left in a wave 3 minutes before mine.  I was elated, thinking I was going to do it!  I was going to beat the hell out of this swim.

I made it to the swim exit, ran up the beach - which I hate, by the way.  The soft Gulf sand KILLS my feet, even for only a teeny tiny run, and slows me down.  I got to T1, and managed to get my bike gear on, including socks, in what felt like record time (my transition times are normally glacially slow).

It was a hot and humid evening, and even though the water had been really warm, it felt great heading out on the bike wet from the swim.  There was quite a stiff breeze, so it really cooled me off.  It was a short bike ride - 10 miles - to help with getting people in close to sunset.  5 miles out was flat and fast, and there was a good tailwind that pushed me along.  I stayed over 20 mph before the turnaround.  For me, that's like breaking the sound barrier! Then came the turnaround and the inevitable headwind.  No hills, but enough of a sock to the face to slow me down to about a 16 mph average.  Bummer. 

It was at this point in the race that I remembered exactly why I dislike this particular course.  I had raced this course once before, and really didn't enjoy it.  It's an open course, meaning the roads are open to traffic, and athletes - cyclists and runners - are sharing the road.  This venue is at a park that only has one way in and out, and has several boat ramps and next to no parking.  Many large trucks with trailers are parked along the road, are pulling in and out during the race, and generally being pretty inconsiderate to us annoying triathletes.  In races past on this course, I have heard of cyclists getting knocked off their bikes by the trailers attached to trucks that couldn't be bothered to slow down just a tiny bit.

I was finishing up the ride as the sun was setting, and even though I don't love the course, it is really visually striking in some spots - save for the giant nuclear power plant in the background.  The sky was gorgeous, a palette of oranges and bluish grays, just stunning.

I biked into T2, parked my stuff, and headed out for the run, again in a much quicker fashion that normal for me.

During the ride, I made sure to drink A LOT, to avoid dehydration.  I've gotten sick because of that in other races, and it was so humid that I knew if I didn't drink a lot, I would likely puke.  As I started my run, I began to feel really queasy anyway, like I had eaten too much too soon before the race, which wasn't the case.  It was the humidity, which has a really negative affect on me.  I've been dealing with it all summer, and my runs have suffered.  But, I soldiered on, at a snail's pace.

I walked through the water stations at miles 1 and 2.  At the mile 2 water station, I made the huge mistake of pouring a cup of water down my front.  Not only was the water super warm, making it feel as if I was peeing myself, but the water quickly traveled down my legs, into my socks, and into the bottoms of my running shoes.  Immediately, my feet were soaked and I could feel the chafing begin.  ***I always learn something in every race.  Sometimes it is an unpleasant lesson.

Sure enough, over the course of the last mile, I could feel a hot spot on my big toe.  Bummer again.

As it began to grow dark, traffic picked up.  Boaters were leaving the park, and while most of the drivers were cautious of the runners and cyclists, there were a few jerks.  At about the 2 1/2 mile mark, I had picked up my pace considerably, and as I rounded a last corner, a ridiculously overcompensatingly large white dually truck pulls out into a 3-point turn in the middle of the road, in front of me, another runner, and a cyclist just finishing up.  We had to stop to avoid getting hit, and as I screamed obscenities at the idiot, he just looked up with a great big douchebag grin.  He had done it on purpose, because we were in his precious way. People are amazing in a really bad way sometimes.

I got past the truck, and could see the finish line.  I could also see a woman creeping up on my left.  Even though I hadn't really been racing during the entire run, it was then that I was all like, "Oh HELL no" and turned on the boosters to put some distance between us.  I crossed the finish line, and promptly felt the urgent need to puke.  Though I didn't, I realized that this is becoming an issue, and I need to figure out what is causing it, because there will come a time when I won't be able to stifle it, and someone in front of me will get an unwelcome shower.

Before the race, I had set a goal time of 1:20:00 for myself.  I ended up coming in at 1:16:19.  I was thrilled.  Of course, all of my friends that had been racing, my husband included, blew me away, but I'm the one who held back on the run.  No podium finish for me, but it was a victory nonetheless.

I was elated with my performance, until I saw the split times.  Thinking I had killed it in the water, I was upset when I saw my swim split was a lousy 9:10.  Even though I felt the best I ever had in a race during that swim, it was my slowest swim ever in a triathlon (at that distance).  I'd like to think I lost time hobbling up the beach - why do they make you run so damn far up the beach into the transition area? - or maybe I conserved my legs too much and didn't kick enough.  Or maybe I swam off course a bit and added distance.  Or maybe I'm just a crappy swimmer.

At the end of the day, I did better than I had expected to, I had a good bike ride, and I did really feel great during the swim.  My run can always improve, it is by far my least favorite thing to do - in a triathlon and in life.  Every race is a learning experience.  I learn about each discipline in the race, I learn how to make faster transitions, and I learn about myself and how hard I am able and willing to push.  Win or lose, if I get stronger, that is what counts the most.

Triathlon Checklist, A Guide for Newbies

When I was training for my first triathlon, I did all kinds of research on what to take to the race.  My biggest fear was forgetting something and finding myself either unable to race or too freaked out to enjoy the experience.  Overwhelmingly, everything I read boiled down to one important piece of advice:

Make a list!

A triathlon, especially your first, is frightening and vomit-inducing enough.  But realizing you have forgotten something 30 minutes before the race starts, something like your running shoes or your bike helmet, can send you into full cardiac arrest.  Make it as stress-free as humanly possible by having a list of the gear, equipment, and anything else you will need for race day, following that list as you pack, checking off the list as you pack, and referring to the list as you unpack and prepare your transition area.  If you are like me, and just about every other triathlete out there, making lists is second nature to you.  What might not be so easy, though, is knowing what to put on that list.

This is a basic list for newbie triathletes, ideal for a sprint distance race.  Long course triathlons require an ungodly amount of extra gear, nutrition, clothing, etc., so much so that you might as well pack a sherpa.  I've broken the list down by race leg - swim, bike, run - as well as pre- and post-race items that are good to have.

Triathlon Packing List - A Newbie's Guide

Pre-race (transition area setup)

Bucket filled with water or a large bottle of water - this is for your first transition from the swim to the bike (T1).  Depending on the race venue and the swim type, you might have grit  or sand on your feet and in between your toes.  Dip your feet in the water or pour water on your feet before you put your shoes on, or you will be hating life during the run.  Some races offer a foot wash, but I find that it doesn't do much good, and I always have water at my transition area anyway.

Towels - Have a dry towel for your feet, have an extra towel for wiping your face.  

Nutrition - A sprint triathlon does not require you to lay out a buffet at your transition area like the long distance races.  But have water or your favorite hydrating liquid (save the beer for AFTER the race) ready on your bike, and have extra easily reachable in your transition area.  Have a gel or something you can tolerate, that won't make you puke, and that YOU HAVE TRIED BEFORE available if you need it.  **Cardinal Rule of racing: NEVER try something new on race day or during the race.  Bad things, unspeakable things can - and likely will - happen.

Sunscreen - Never neglect your skin!  Lather yourself up good before the race, and reapply between the bike and run.

A gear/transition bag - You need something to lug all of your crap in.  You can buy triathlon gear bags - they vary in price from moderately pricey to is it going to race for me? expensive.  They have way more pockets, pouches, niches, and zippers than they need, but they are fun to carry, in a burden animal sort of way.  Use a backpack, a duffel bag, any bag that helps you contain, organize, and tote your triathlon stuff to your transition area and out again.  It also gives you a place to safely conceal your car keys, phone, id, and money.

Swim

Swimsuit - You will be swimming in the same outfit that you will be biking and running in.  The sprint distance doesn't allow time for a wardrobe change.  And honestly, nobody likes a naked triathlete in the transition area.

Wetsuit - if the race is wetsuit legal, and you are wearing one, you will want to remember to pack it.  Don't be a polar bear if you don't have to be.

Goggles - Race in goggles that you have swum with before (Cardinal Rule).  But bring an extra pair!  Goggles snap, break, and grow legs and walk away from time to time.

Bike

Bike - This should go without saying, but you really should bring your bike.  People have been known to forget their bikes.

Shoes - If you have clipless pedals, you must remember your cycling shoes!  These are not necessary, of course, and many folks have regular pedals and ride in their running shoes.  If you wish, you can put your socks on during T1 and both bike and run in them.

Sunglasses - Proper cycling/running sunglasses will help cut down on glare.  Not necessary, but a nice thing to have.

Helmet - You MUST have a properly fitting bike helmet.  I can't think of a race that will let you leave the transition area without your helmet on and strapped at the chin.  It's the rules.

Run

Running shoes - These are pretty important.  Again, people do forget them!  So, don't.  This should go without saying, but please PLEASE do not wear a brand new pair of shiny running shoes.  Ahem, Cardinal Rule...

Socks - Bring 2 pair, and don't wear a pair that you haven't run in before.  Again, remember the Cardinal Rule...

Hat/visor - Not a necessity, but nice for keeping the sun off your face, and sweat out of your eyes.

Race belt - This is for attaching your bib to for the run.  It is pretty necessary, and they are inexpensive to buy.  Have your bib attached to it before the race, and have it set out on top of your running shoes.  Also, go for a run wearing it before the race, so you can have it adjusted to your comfort level.  Again, CARDINAL RULE!

Post-race

Change of clothes - Depending on how much you sweat, and how comfortable you want to be during the post-race festivities, you might either want to bring a full change of clothes, or simply bring a t-shirt to wear over your wet and sweaty triathlon ensemble.

Money/i.d. - Bring these for food and drink after the race.  You will also have to show your identification when you check in before the race.


This is my starter list for a triathlon newbie.  As you gain more race experience, you might find that you need more or less in order to have your perfect race experience.  If I've left something off, please don't hesitate to call me out on it...leave your suggestion in the comments!

Make your list, train hard, race harder, and enjoy yourself!

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!

Goodbye, my yoga dog

Today, I watched a life come to a close.  My stubborn, gentle, beautiful, loyal, and wonderful American Bulldog Oliver left us this morning, and it was both the most torturous and most peaceful moment of my life.  

Oliver was not just our family dog.  He was our yoga partner, our running partner, our alarm clock, our resident comedian, our touchstone.  He warmed my feet after a cold run by laying all of his 80 pounds on them, and he was an excellent spooning partner.  He was only 7 years old, and we had barely loved him for 4 1/2 years.  He was taken from us by an aggressive cancer that left him skeletal and weak, a shadow of his former self.  But he never lost the love in his eyes, and the wag in his tail, albeit a weaker wag in the end.

As we watched him slowly die in front of our eyes, the frailty of life - and its temporary nature - was thrust upon me.  This once strong, barrel-chested animal that could knock over a 200-pound man with merely a nudge was reduced to limping across the house in a matter of a few months.  And there was nothing we could do but relieve his pain with copious amounts of medication and continue to love him until we knew it was the end.

I drove him to the vet this morning knowing it would be THE day.  His abdomen had swelled up over the night, and he was having trouble breathing.  He had a look on his face that practically begged for me to make it all go away.  When I arrived at the vet, they led me into a room with a squishy, comfortable sofa.  I sat down, and Oliver looked up at me with a puppyish alertness that I had not seen on his face in a long time.  I invited him to hop up, and he tried so hard, but just could not get there.  For the first time since we had adopted him, I was able to pick him up - he had lost more than 30 pounds of his body weight - and I put him on my lap.  He placed his head on my chest and I stroked his swollen belly, listening to his racing heartbeat and irregular breathing.  For several minutes, I whispered to him all of the things I needed to tell him - how much he meant to me, how he'd healed my soul and spirit so many times, how I loved him - and he relaxed into my body as if to signal that he was ready.  It was a most special moment.  It was our moment of goodbye.

My husband arrived, and the vet prepped Oliver for the procedure.  I had never been a witness to this before, but my husband had.  He tried to assure me that it would be quick and peaceful.  My husband crawled on the floor and laid on Oliver's chest whispering the same loving words to him that I had a few minutes earlier.  Oliver lifted one of his front legs and placed his paw on my husband, as if to embrace him.  It was their moment of goodbye.

When the time came, the vet administered the drugs, and we both gently stroked Oliver's belly.  The quiet overwhelmed the room, it was smothering me.  The vet checked his heart, and told us that he was gone.  But he wasn't.  He was laying right there, and I just felt like he was going to hop up and scurry out the door with us and hop in the car and come home with me, sniffing and biting at the wind out the car window, with his ears and jowls flapping.  

But that would be a memory now.

His lifelessness was startling, but a relief.  He was no longer in pain, and I desperately hope that he slipped away feeling our hands on him, hearing our voices telling him how much we love him.  I was not prepared for the stillness, for the quiet.  Or the anguish.

My husband's early morning winter runs won't be the same, and it will take me a while to get used to practicing yoga without Oliver stretching beside me.  And there will never be another foot warmer like him.

It's so hard to say goodbye to the creatures we love, even when we are middle-aged and should seemingly be able to accept life's cycle.  Love everyone and everything in your life at all times, because you just don't know when the chance to do it will be gone forever.

Oliver, my yoga dog

4/26/06 - 6/10/13

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." ~Anatole France