On a winning attitude...

Quite a few years ago, I ran with a group from Track Shack (a local running store) occasionally for a mid-week run.  It was sometimes a tempo run and sometimes a track workout, and was one of my first experiences running with a group.  I had already completed my first marathon (Dublin in 2001), which included training with a small group of Team Diabetes runners, but I had never participated in a coached interval workout before.  

We were at the Trinity Prep school track one evening--I remember it was dark so it must have been in spring or fall, not summer with longer daylight hours (an irrelevant detail, it's just part of the memory).  I only knew one or two other people there who had encouraged me to attend the session.  I don’t even remember what the workout was for that day.  I know we ran about a mile as a warm-up to get to the track, then we did some sort of repeats.  There were all levels of runners there, some very fast, others mid-packers, and then me.  I was intimidated.  I was last.  What stands out, however, is that the “fast” runners, the ones who were likely running repeats in the mid-5:00 minute mile range, were just as spent as I was when we finished.  They were tired, working hard, pushing through pain, but getting it done to the best of their abilities.  I couldn't even get to an 8:00 minute mile pace at that time, but I was trying as hard as I could.  As I crossed the line for the final repeat (and I really was the last one), the others were all cheering and encouraging me, even the fast ones.  What I took from that experience was that it's hard for everybody, I'm not the only one struggling.  We're just all struggling at different levels. I started to look at running differently at that point.  I used to think I was just not a good runner, because it felt hard all the time.  But so what if it's hard?  Isn't is supposed to be?  Easy is too...easy.  I realized then that it doesn't matter what your final time is, or average speed, only that it's important to give it your all, whatever that is for you.

I was reminded of this again last week when watching an interview after Stage 9 of the Tour de France, when Dan Martin from Garmin Sharp and another rider broke away in the final kilometers, and Martin hung on to win the stage.  In a post-race interview, he mentioned that at one point his legs were so tired and hurting so badly that he wished the group would actually catch them because he didn't think he could push on.  Clearly he was able to put that momentary thought of doubt aside and push on to win.  Another example that at the top level, it's still hard, but maybe what separates the winners from the losers is the mental fortitude to push through.

 

I know I will need to call upon that winning attitude many times throughout the Ironman. There will surely be times when I want to quit, when I question why in the world I wanted to start such an insane venture!  But I will have my arsenal of positive thinking.  Here are a few that I've already come up with (I'm sure I'll add a few more in the next few weeks):

1.  I’ve made it through a difficult race situation before (quite a few times). When it gets tough in the IM, I will think about these past situations in which I made it through, knowing that even though at the time I thought finishing was unimportant and stopping would have felt SO much better, I kept going and I made it.  And I was fine.  No, not just fine, I was the better for it.  For example:

• My marathon PR in Tampa included a lot of walking and running on legs that felt like lead weights during the final 10K, but I kept repeating to myself that the faster I ran, the sooner it would be over, so "Just keep running, just keep running, running, running..." (Sung to the tune of Dory's "Just keep swimming" from Nemo).  I use this mantra a lot in difficult races
• My attempt at a Boston qualifying time at the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach did not go as planned, and I was toast before the halfway point.  I wanted to stop and curl up on the side of the road, especially with such a long way to go, but I didn't.  I kept giving myself a goal to reach--the next mile, then take a 1 minute walk break, the next aid station, cheering on other people, etc.  Though I was way off a PR, I still finished with my second fastest marathon time  
• My PR half marathon in Tampa last year started out great, but the last 4 miles were so painful because I had (stupidly) gone too hard on a bike ride the day before, and my quads had nothing left.  I wanted to stop.  They actually hurt.  But again, I knew the faster I went, the sooner it would be over.  I missed my goal by 55 seconds, but it was still a PR.

2.  Remember good advice.  Just last month I was scheduled to do an Olympic distance triathlon that was changed to a duathlon because of poor water quality.  I had no idea how to approach the first run leg, since I had never done a duathlon before.  So I asked the coaches from the Seminole County Triathletes club, and they gave me some great advice that I used during that race.  To paraphrase Coach Dan and Coach David, "there is a difference between pain and discomfort."  If it's just discomfort, push through. Everyone will be uncomfortable at some point in a race if they are pushing hard.  Pushing through the discomfort can be the difference between winning and losing.  I pushed through a lot of discomfort in that duathlon and ended up coming in second place, passing the would-be 2nd and 3rd place finishers in the last mile of the run.

3.  Don't settle for just finishing...unless that ends up being the last available option.  I don’t agree with those who take the easy way out and say “but I really don’t care about winning, I’m just having fun.”  I think that's a self-protective measure to avoid failure.  After all, if your expectations (and expectations of others) are low, then it's easier not to fail, right?  It's not about the easy way, it’s about finding your limits, pushing past them, and then REALLY finding out what you are capable of!  But with that said, I do have multiple goals related to this race based in reality.  The final goal, should all others fail, is just to finish.  But I'm not going into the race with that goal, because I know I have trained for and am capable of more than that.  Not once in this entire journey have I thought that I might not finish the race.  It hasn't even crossed my mind as one of the possibilities.  Bad things happen, sure, unexpected things.  But why focus on that?  I am prepared physically, so the hardest part during the race will be using positive thinking to do the best I can, to combat the negative thoughts that will creep up, and to drive those thoughts away.  

4.  Draw strength from my supporters.  I will have a small cadre of faithful Sherpas at the race. Brian will be there--he is my biggest fan and an expert at understanding my OCD triathlon preparation ritual and nervous anticipation levels; plus my Mom, Aunt Karen and Uncle Jeff will all be there in person.  Countless others will be supporting me from afar, and have been providing me with encouragement throughout this entire journey.  Those of you who participate in athletic events know what a boost it is to have someone you know, even for just a moment, see you on the course and yell your name and encouraging words.  The value of those short interactions is immeasurable.  I want to do well not just for myself, but for everyone in my cheering section.

It's strange that a week can make all the difference in the world regarding attitude.  Just over a week ago I was feeling that the race was way too close, that I wasn't ready, I needed more time.  Now I am starting to get that anxious feeling.  That "wow, it's still 6 weeks away, when will it ever get here" feeling.  That means I'm feeling ready.  I'm excited, I'm pumped, I'm looking forward to the challenge and to see what I am capable of, how I handle the day, how I manage to combat the negativity.  

Six weeks to go!  I will do my best to maintain a winning attitude.  I'm ready!

P.S. Bonus article I read last week on positive thinking:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-clear/positive-thinking_b_3512202.html?utm_hp_ref=daily-brief?utm_source=DailyBrief&utm_campaign=071113&utm_medium=email&utm_content=BlogEntry

Getting down to business

July's Training Schedule...Busy!

 7 weeks until the Big Show!  Agh!  That seems like no time at all.  Isn't it amazing how 7 weeks feels different depending on what happens to lie at the end?  Seven weeks until the end of school, or a vacation, or a visit from a far-away friend...feels like forever!  The days and weeks drag by, you wonder if the time will ever pass.  Not so for me with this Ironman!  Normally at this point in marathon training I am ready for the race to get here, but I am not yet feeling that way for this race--more time, please!  I started on a 30 week training program in January...how did it get to be July so quickly?!?  And those of you who have trained for long distance events know that 7 weeks left of training isn't really 7 weeks, it's only 4 or 5 because of the taper.  For me, my taper begins 3 weeks out, where my training load drops from 20 hours a week, to 14 1/2, to 11, to race week. 


I knew at the start of this journey that I would have difficulty keeping up the commitment of my training in the middle, and I did.  I was 100% committed for the first 10-12 weeks, doing well, tired but not frustrated, though admittedly a little bored because of so many solo training sessions.  Then I had a great half ironman race in Clermont, and I think I needed a little mental and physical break at that point.  That break came a few weeks later, in mid-May.  Planning for vacation, going on vacation, my father's unexpected passing, going to Connecticut to handle his affairs...as they say, LIFE happens, and it definitely had an impact on my training commitment and nutrition.  At this point I look back and wish that I had focused on better nutrition a lot more during that time, but I didn't.  I ate poorly, ate too much, and all of that on a reduced exercise schedule translated into some unwanted weight gain and a little loss in fitness.  Luckily, I was able to climb out of the funk in mid-June, and have been mostly on track since then.  I still have eaten out at restaurants more than I should have, but I have also been doing well with preparing my foods and having healthy snacks available.  The damage has not been completely undone, however, and I am still carrying a little bit of extra weight that I should have gotten rid of by now (and by "extra" weight I just mean extra racing weight, not that I'm overweight).  My fitness has come back, though, and I'm feeling pretty good about that.

So here's the good, the bad and the ugly...in reverse.

The UGLY is what I just mentioned, that I'm carrying more weight than I would like to at this moment.  Can I do anything about that?  Yes and no.  I can move forward and focus on eating healthy, remembering that food is fuel and this IM-In-Training body needs fuel to perform!  So I will move forward by continuing to prepare healthy fuel so that I do not make impulsive bad choices for food.  No problem.  Moving on.

The Road to Success!

The BAD has to do with my cycling fitness.  I would like to be farther ahead than I am, and would have been if I didn't have the month or so of training interruptus.  The bike is a tough bird, since I do not have a bicycle trainer at home (except for the roller trainer, which doesn't provide a very good workout), the weather and travelling and blah, blah, blah...I basically missed too many long rides.  However, I have done well with the cycling for the past few weeks, so I will just focus on that.  Yesterday I did a 102 mile ride, the farthest I've ever gone on my tri bike, and I felt good.  My continued dilemma is my goal for the bike course at Louisville and my increasing skepticism that I may not hit that goal.  Now don't get me wrong or misunderstand--I am in no way being negative or feeling down about this--but I am trying to be realistic in my approach to this beast and my attempt to conquer it.  And I'm just not sure that I can hit a 6 hour time and still have the energy in my legs to run (not walk) the marathon.  I know I can hit that 6 hour mark if I hammer it, but that would sabotage the rest of the race.  So I will continue to train, continue to research the bike course and how to attack it, and come race day I will follow my plan of attack regardless of whether that puts me at 6 hours or 7 hours or somewhere in between.

The GOOD is everything else!  I have a renewed excitement for the event as it gets closer!  Yes, there is that throw-up-in-my-mouth a little bit every time I really think about it, but mostly I'm excited.  I know there will be fatigue, there will be pain, there will be "what the hell was I thinking?!"  There will be times where I want to quit, where stopping and curling up on the side of the road will be much more enticing than continuing on. But there will also be the sense of accomplishment to be had, the victory in knowing that I am capable of such a feat, the camaraderie with everyone else at the race.  Frequently during my training I envision myself crossing the finish line.  I will need to focus on that many times during the race, I am sure.  So here's to a renewed focus and energy, and the final stretch!  Woot woot!

Father's Day Tribute

It's ironic that the last time I updated this blog was on Mother's Day.  In that post, I detailed how much my mother has meant to me and how she helped make me the confident person I am today.  At the time, I was also thinking of what I was going to write on Father's Day, knowing that I would also post about what a positive impact my father had on me throughout the years in making me strong.  Little did I know at the time that the post would essentially be a eulogy. 

My training for the last month has been lacking.  First it was because I was preparing to go on vacation and had limited time.  Then my father died, I did go on vacation, then prepared for and went to Connecticut for his service and taking care of his affairs.  Last week, after returning home, my training returned almost to normal.  It was still not perfect, and I skipped my long bike ride today, but I'm getting back into my routine.  With 10 weeks to go, I no longer have any time to waste.  I'll report back next week on how that's going, but this week I'm going to share the speech I gave at my father's memorial service/celebration.  I did not stick to this script exactly, but you'll get the idea.  Thank you, Dad, for giving all the love you had to me and Nicole. 

Thank you all for being here today.  You may have known my dad as a brother, an uncle, a friend or a Marine.  I’d like you to know him as Nicole and I did, as a dad.  I’ll briefly share some memories of the man that I, and many others, considered invincible. 

When I was very small, before my parents divorced, he would get home from work as I was waking up from my afternoon nap.  And if I had been a good girl that day, I’d get his pocket change.  I thought I was rich with the coins he’d give me! 

He was the guy that bought me my first fishing pole, and then had to wade into a freezing cold Lake Williams to retrieve it when I accidentally let it slip from my hands while casting on a chilly afternoon.  He taught us to swim in that same lake.

I called him Doug USMC because of the tattoo on his arm—as a young girl I knew it had to do with the Marines, but I thought that was his “Marine name”, Doug Us-Mic.

He encouraged us in everything we did, and would never let us say “I can’t” if we thought we would fail at something new.  His response was always, “Yes, you can.”  Whether it was our first front flip off the diving board at Aunt Lo’s, climbing higher in a tree in the back yard in Lebanon, or throwing the ball farther in softball practice.

He taught me to drive a stick shift.  You remember that beat up old white Ford truck?  Yeah, I thought all cars with a manual transmission had to start in 2^nd gear, but really it was just that one.  As a vain teenager I drove that truck to the store, to the movies, anywhere he’d let me, really, and I now know those are the little things that build character.

Dad and his cars—he had a Pontiac when I was little, he called it the Green Slime…it was so loud that when he dropped me a nursery school, which happened to be right around the corner from here, as he would peel out of the parking lot I’d proudly say, “There goes my Daddy!”

After our parents divorced and Nicole and I would visit him on the weekends, we would often bring friends with us to play.  He was always accommodating.  What a patient man—he would sit and wait while we played on playgrounds, shopped in the mall, went to the movies.  Whatever we wanted to do.  He was there for my sporting events, often sitting in his truck with Tim to watch from the parking lot, but there, nonetheless.

We would also break into spontaneous dance at the house in Lebanon while visiting him—some good song would come on the oldies station on the radio, and Dad and Nicole and I would act silly.  Something that we did even as adults when we would see him.  Dancing, singing, always laughing.

Of course, he could also be the disciplinarian.  If we were goofing off when he told us not to, all he would have to do is come outside or wherever we were, stand with crossed arms and pursed lips, and we would stop in our tracks.  He used to say that he didn’t need a belt for discipline—he had “the hand”.  Yet not once did he lay a hand on us, he never needed to.  That’s the kind of respect we had for him.

On the occasions when we were sick or got hurt, he was there to comfort us.  He would make us special pancakes on the weekends, spelling out our names with the batter or making the shapes of our requested animals of choice—always a dog, for me, usually a monkey for Nicole.

He taught us to love animals, to find joy in getting down on the floor with a dog and playing like you were one of the pack.  He taught us to respect nature.  He taught us how to fart.  He taught us gun safety.  He taught us to be kind.

He came to visit Nicole and I in Florida a few years back, and knowing how much we love seafood, he drove down with a bunch of Maine lobsters and scallops that he wrapped in bacon and cooked up for us.  He was a good cook, which, like most things he was good at, he just had a feel for—he knew how to make things work.  Another time he visited, my husband Brian and I were working on our backyard fence, and of course Dad jumped right in to help.

He was a good man, good to the core, a goodness that all of you experienced.  Through all of his faults and seeming shortcomings, his invincible heart shone through.  He was all heart.  I know he was proud of me and Nicole, and I know he loved us and hopefully knew how much we loved him.  But I also hope he knew that we are who we are because of him.  I’m sure he had no idea of the positive impact he had on people, and my only request of all of you today is that you remember his goodness above all else.  It means a lot to us that you’re here and we know you loved him, too.  Thank you.

An Ode to Mom

Me as a small child:  “Mom, watch this!”  And she did.  And sometimes she followed it with a “Be careful.” Or “Good job!” Or a hearty laugh. Or “That’s great!”   

A tap dance recital when I was four or five years old, dressed in the cutest ever skunk costume, I’m on stage doing the two tap dance moves that four year-olds are taught, and she’s in the front row, laughing hysterically because we’re all so dang cute. 

When I started school: “Can you quiz me on my words for my spelling test?” (Yes, I was a nerd.)  And she did.  Even though she had gotten up so early to get my sister and me ready for day care, gone to work, picked us up from daycare, come home, made dinner, and was clearly exhausted. 

When I was 9 and joined Little Miss Softball.  Did she know anything about softball?  I don’t think so.  But she brought me there…for practice, for games, from the time I was 9 years old through my senior year as co-captain of the softball team in high school.

Concert band concerts, marching band parades, jazz band concerts (yes, band nerd, too)…and all of the after school practices that went with them.  Yes, she was there, or got me there, or got me home.

I left home 5 days after high school graduation, moved over 1,000 miles away to go to college, but not because I wanted to get away from home.  Because my mother had always supported me and encouraged me to do what was right for me.  To be strong, independent, but to always know I could come home whenever I needed. 

As luck would have it, Mom moved to Florida, also, after I moved here.  And I did have to go home at one point—when Brian and I were building our house and trying to get the condo ready for sale, we moved in with her for 4-5 months.  She was there for us.

As an adult, I have come to know her as a friend, and she has continued her unyielding support of whatever endeavor I take on.  Work, play, home, anything.  She is proud of me, and she should be proud of herself, because she made me what I am today.  I try to emulate her generosity, her kindness, her open mind, her humor, her strength, her honesty.  Sometimes I feel I do a good job, other times I know I still have a lot to learn from her.

She will be traveling to Louisville with me to support me in my Ironman race.  But it’s the support she’s provided me throughout my lifetime that has given me the courage and confidence to even embark on this journey.  I know I am lucky to have a mother like her, and I will never take her for granted.

Thank you, and I love you, Mom!

Weekly recap!

A short recap this week…I know, you don’t believe that, my posts are never short.  I’m not sure I even believe it.  Except that I just feel like doing a training recap and check-in with how I’m feeling about my preparation.

NUTRITION

Diet has been poor.  I was doing really well…and then I wasn’t.  I got down to my lowest weight in 4 years…and then I went back up.  I know what I need to do to change this, but I’m struggling.  When I make the time to prepare for the week and have an abundance of healthy food choices, I do well.  But as my training increases on the weekends, so does my level of fatigue.  Napping with the dogs has had a greater pull than grocery shopping and cooking and prepping food.  This needs to change, especially since I have less than 4 weeks until vacation when I know I will be indulging in poor food choices.  So I am buckling down for the next 3 ½ weeks and making good choices.  Preparation is key.

SWIMMING

I have been consistently swimming 3 times per week, and I feel like I am getting better.  Coach Cory is trying to get me to push my pace so I can get my mile time where I want it, and therefore my Ironman 2.4 mile time where I want it.  Clearly I have some challenges in the open water swim, evidenced by my still relatively poor performance in the swim portion of the half ironman this month.  I think what I need to work on is breathing and kicking.  My kick slows me down instead of helping me forward, and I still get a little panicky about being out of breath, so I have to figure that one out.

BIKING

Must get better on the rolling hills.  This will require road trips to Clermont more frequently, which is of course a scheduling challenge as it eats up half a day, not to mention that it makes getting things done in the second half of the day a challenge when both Brian and I are tired.  This past Saturday I actually sat on an indoor trainer for 3 hours and pedaled through 46 miles of the Louisville Ironman course.  While this is certainly not an exact mirror of what it will be like on the course, at least I have an inkling of what to expect.  I hope to do this twice more before the race and get further along to “preview” more of the rollers and climbs.  I have also started a little bit of higher intensity biking to work on strength, so we’ll see how that continues.  However, the more and more I learn about the Louisville bike course, the less confident I am that I can meet my 6 hour bike goal in the IM race.  We’ll see.

RUNNING

I am feeling pretty good about my run.  A great 15K and a strong half marathon in the triathlon this month have given me quite a confidence boost.  What I don’t understand, however, is why I can’t run my weekly runs at a faster pace.  I am fairly consistent at a 9 minute mile pace in heart rate zone 2, yet my races have been much faster.  I know that racing is always faster than training runs, but should it be THAT much faster?  I don’t think so.  I’m just imagining that if I can run my training runs at an 8:30 pace, then my race pace would get even faster.  Frustrating.

REST

I love rest day Mondays!  Towards the end of the week I do not get enough sleep, and Fridays are really tough as I’m typically really tired.  And as I mentioned, the fatigue creeps into the weekends and I tend to let the house work, yard work and other responsibilities lag.  I’m not sure how to combat this, other than to just “get’r done!”

FUN

I am still having fun!  I mentioned in an earlier post that triathlon training really can be lonely.  But I am managing to get some group training in that helps with the feeling of isolation.  I participated in a run clinic for 6 weeks with my triathlon club, and that was social and motivating and fun.  Starting this week I will do my mid-week brick workout in a group ride (followed by a solo run), which will help decrease the monotony.

So with 17 weeks to go (holy crap that doesn’t sound like very long!!!!) I am feeling good.  I have confidence in my plan, I know what I need to work on, but I also know it has to be now.  No more slacking off.  I’ve got two vacations planned between now and Louisville, so those can be my “reward” weeks.  Other than that, it’s game on!  I just have to keep repeating in my head, “You can do it!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hjqrxfvJ0A

A week of ups and downs...and downs and ups...

First, let’s start with Boston.  The Monday that started well.  I was able to track some friends through the online run tracker, I had the live feed from the marathon playing in the background on my computer at work as I read through some budget numbers, and all was well.  Then you all know what happened.  I won’t recap or wax poetic, as so many have done a much better job than I at conveying the anger, sorrow and hope that resulted from that tragedy.  It really affected me more than I expected it to—maybe because even though I have not YET qualified for Boston, I associate with the running community and so experienced a profound sadness.  And then promptly tried to exercise the hell out of it! 

Then more sad news…we lost our beloved greyhound Bo to what was likely bone cancer that resulted in a broken leg that could not be repaired.  A busy week at work, sadness to work through and the impending half ironman triathlon on Sunday was my week. 

Happily, the HIM went amazingly well, and I ended this sad week on a really high note! 

I am now on week 13 of my training plan (only 18 to go!), and at times I have struggled with trusting the plan, with whether I’ll be ready for the Ironman or not.  Of course, when I have a bad training day I start to feel like I’ll never be able to work my endurance/strength/speed up to the level I need to in order to meet my IM goal.  Then I’ll have a good training day and feel a bit better.  And so it goes, back and forth, the usual ups and downs of a long training plan.

My attitude approaching the Clermont HIM was very strange.  I wasn't that stressed about it.  And that’s a big deal, because I can really get my OCD on when prepping for an important race.  I kept saying aloud (to anyone who would listen) that this was just a “training race,” that I wasn't “ready” for this distance, that it was “practice.”  And mostly I believed that.  But I always want to do the best I can, and rarely hold back if I think I can push harder.  In fact, I was the team captain and instigator for our local Corporate 5K race which a small number of our staff participate in every year.  I usually run it as fast as I can given the 16,000 participants, and the majority of my coworkers walk it.  I decided this year to walk with them so that I wouldn't overcook my quads just 3 days before the triathlon.  Some running friends suggested I just “run it slow.”  Yeah, that doesn't work for me.  I go all out, all the time.  So walking was the best way to control that—and you know what?  It was SO relaxing!  I feel somewhat guilty saying that, because for some participants, walking a 5K is a really big deal—and if that is where you’re at with your fitness, that’s great!  But for me, a 5K walk was my rest day, and it felt really good and stress-free.

Um…where was I?  Oh yeah, my attitude towards the HIM.  So I truly was intending to use this as a training race to (1) practice nutrition on the course, which meant I was planning on increasing my fluid and supplement intake a LOT and (2) see how hard I could push on the bike and still have legs for the run.  Oh, and (3), I was really interested to see how my swim would go given all the work I’ve been doing in the pool.  So with all this in mind, I was pretty laid back and calm.

The things that did make me nervous:

• Water temperature: a month ago it was 69 degrees and I borrowed a wet suit.  This time, no wet suit, cooler temps and wind blew through in the days before the race (effectively cooling the lake), and I am wimpy in cold water.
• How hard SHOULD I go on the bike?  I know the course, but I’ve never done the “big” climbs (Sugarloaf, Buckhill, The Wall) on my tri bike before.  I didn’t doubt I could do it, the question was just how fast?
• The run didn’t cause too much stress because I had a really great 15K recently, but I couldn’t help but think back to the Olympic race a month ago where I was struggling to maintain pace on a 10K, feeling like I just wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep on the side of the course.

So race morning arrives, and The Weather Channel got it completely wrong.  Before we left home, it said that there was a 5% chance of rain at 6am, and from 7am on, a 0% chance of rain.  As we drove to Clermont, in the POURING rain, I check again and now there is an 85% chance of rain at 7am.  Ya think?!

We arrive in Clermont to a seemingly deserted area.  There are not many people doing this race!  It is sprinkling and breezy, but the downpour has not followed us yet.  When I pick up my race packet I see the sign—water temps measured at 77 degrees, wet suit legal!  Too bad I don’t have a wet suit.  So now I start worrying even more that I’ll be too cold in the water.  After setting up my transition area, covering my shoes with towels in case it rains (it still looks like it might storm), I head down to the water to try to get a swim warm-up in.  I get to the water, seeing that most everybody is wearing a wet suit, step in…and it’s not cold at all!  They must have taken that reading in a cold spot to help the athletes out and make it a wet suit legal event.  So I start swimming—and the waves and current are pretty choppy!  I feel completely out of breath and unprepared and…there’s the announcement calling everyone out of the water so we can start.  All the women go together in the first wave, so I head back to shore.

So here we go, National Anthem, moment of silence for Boston, and it’s 60 seconds to the start.  Nothing I can do now except try to clear my foggy goggles and get going!  And we’re off…I get a good running start and porpoise jump through the water until I start my swim stroke.  Then, as usual, I see the women all swimming away, much faster than me.  There are only 22 women starting, so the usual arms/legs/swatting/washing machine effect of a triathlon swim start lasts only seconds, and I soon carve out my little space.  I get tired so easily in the swim!  The choppy water and current are both strong and daunting, but I know this means it will be easier once I make the turn across the back parallel to shore, and then the turn home.  Although I can feel myself struggling, I get to the first turn buoy faster than I thought I would (at least it seemed faster), and sure enough, the current is better swimming parallel to shore.  When I make the final turn home I just try to stay in line with the finish and not swim too far off course.  I did an okay job, but apparently I pull left when I swim because I had to keep correcting my trajectory towards shore.  My legs have a tendency to sink, so I really need to work on my kick.  But my stroke and body rotation felt good. 

Swim is finished and I head to transition.  Brian is at the fence talking me through as I put on a wind vest (thinking that I’ll be too cold on the bike without it), and try to steady myself because I’m dizzy from the swim.  Not my best transition, but I did okay, and off I go.

The start of the bike is windy but flat and I settle into a rhythm.  When I get to the rollers that I’m familiar with, I realize my legs are pretty tired, and this scares me.  Did I kick too hard on the swim? Why would my legs be tired already?  But I’m sure as hell not going to slow down, so I just keep at it.  At about mile 14, we turn into a headwind.  And it’s a long stretch of rolling hills that seem to only go up.  I just keep hoping that the wind will not change direction because we come back on the course in the opposite direction, which should mean a really nice tailwind!  But this is Florida in springtime, and the wind has a mind of its own.

Soon we get to the first of the tough climbs…I say we, but really it’s a lonely ride with such a small field.  The men started 10 minutes after the women, so there are quite a few tall, lean guys flying by me on really nice bikes.  No women ever pass me, though.  I even pass some men who had obviously passed me on the swim but underestimated the bike course.  I get to Sugarloaf, the “big” climb, at the 1 hour 28 minute mark, and I’m feeling pretty good.  I’m not quite halfway done with the course, but knowing the big climbs are done and that I should have a tailwind for a little bit, I aim to finish the bike in under 3 hours.  I’m happy when I get back to that long, rolling stretch of road and indeed have a tailwind.  I’m flying at 24-25 mph for a while, having a lot of fun.  Then with 11 miles to go I make a turn that gives me an unfavorable crosswind.  But I know this course and keep telling myself "11 miles is nothing."  I come in at just under 3 hours and 1 minute, not too bad.  However, my lower back had started aching just a little.  My hamstrings had started complaining more than a little.  I was so nervous that they would cramp when I bent over to put on my running shoes.  But they didn’t!  I got through T2 in 1 minute, really easy, calm execution, and I’m out on the run.

Brian is there running beside me telling me there are only 5 women ahead of me, telling me how good I’m doing and offering great words of encouragement.  The run course is two loops, and I know I’ll pass the start/finish area a couple of times and get to hear his supporting words just when I need them most.  As I run, I remind myself that I have to keep eating and drinking, and so far that’s going pretty well.  My stomach is not rebelling too much, and I manage to take in fluids and more nutrition as I make my way through the 13.1 miles.  Since the course is a double out-and-back, I see the women in front of me.  Number 5 I pass pretty quickly, she’s shuffling.  Number 4 doesn’t look bad coming the other way, but before I even reach mile 4 I’m passing her, offering words of encouragement.  Number 1 and 2 both look really strong and are way ahead of me.  I also cheer them on—I know they’re competition, but I like to see women do well in competitive events.

As I pass Brian before mile 5, he’s telling me that the number 3 girl is cramping, telling me to go get her, run her down.  I see at the next turn-around that she’s not doing well.  So right when I get back to where Brian is to start the second loop, I pass her.  She’s walking and clearly having a bad run.  I offer words of encouragement, and she says “you’re number 3, go get ‘em.”  As competitive as we can be, I just love the encouragement we have in this triathlon community!  So holy crap!  I’m in third place!  I could see earlier when they passed that the woman in second was going to take the lead, because she was gaining on #1, and by the time I see them again there is a new leader.  1^st place is looking strong and not tired at all, and now second place is looking like she’s hurting.  After I make the turnaround, the woman behind me in fourth seems to have found a second wind, she’s running strong, but when she passes me she yells “second place is only 2:30 ahead of you, only 2:30 ahead!”  So I pick it up.  Not because I think I can catch number 2, but because I’m afraid number 4 is going to catch me!  By mile 11, I start to feel a little tired, but I think I’m still keeping pace, trying to focus on leg turnover and to just keep moving.  I cheer on number 1 as she passes me in the other direction less than ½ mile from the finish.  As I get to mile 12, I see number 2.  She is clearly struggling, but I know at that point that I’m not going to catch her.  But I also know that I am solidly in 3^rd and won’t get caught.  So I push my legs to finish that last mile, and they get heavy, but I know a mile is nothing so I just continue.  I’m so excited to finish and finish well!

Here are my results:

Total 5:29:17, 3^rd out of 18 finishers (22 started)

Swim 37:52, 10/22

T1 2:49

Bike 3:00:54, 18.6 mph avg, 2/18

T2 1:00:00

Run 1:46:44, 8:09 pace, 3/18

Lessons learned: there will be ups and downs.  Learn from the downs and move on, ride the ups but learn from those too, trust the training plan, and HAVE FUN!

The lonely sport...

Many times I have heard triathlon described as a lonely sport.  And I do often see people on tri-bikes, in their aero bars, pedaling away all by themselves.  This past week I felt a little bit of that.  For my approach to the Ironman, I am following a very specific plan, which is what works for me.  I have to have something to stick to or else I go completely the opposite way and get lazy and into that "oh I'll just make up that workout tomorrow" frame of mind. Knowing that approach would never work for an IM, I picked a plan and I'm sticking to it. 

But that's just it--it's my plan.  No one else I know locally is following the same plan.  Hell, there are hardly any others training for an Ironman.  Those who are each modify our plans to fit our particular schedules.  I know no one who can just put training first and work, family, school, etc. second.  I had to start with my work schedule, which thankfully is fairly steady and consistent this year (the very reason, in fact, that I picked this year for completing an Ironman).  Then I had to fit in the swims, which are set through the Masters Swim program.  Amazingly, they fall on the exact days the training plan suggests!  Then the rest of it gets fit in, but of course I have to deal with weather and special events popping up.  Oh, and don't forget the gym.  I know most long-course triathletes say to let the gym go, but I am a firm believer in core-strengthening in the gym and its direct benefits to performance (and decreased pain and discomfort) on the swim, bike and run.  So I picked a gym with easy access, a shower and a convenient location.  Finally, my husband!  How do I find time for him (and also not take away from the things I need to do at home)?  I am eternally grateful that he is supportive of this endeavor and that he bikes with me (and attends all of my events as my support crew and cheerleader).  Today, in fact, a friend asked him if he was participating in a particular upcoming bike ride, and he responded (only half-jokingly), "I don't know, Becky just tells me what's on the schedule for the next day and I go."

On our refrigerator is my training plan schedule, hand-written (in pencil) on a monthly calendar, as well as the weekend "honey-do" list that we need to accomplish before going on vacation next month.  The structure is needed to keep me sane and on track.

But I digress...sort of...the point is that everything is planned out, week by week, so I can accomplish this big goal this year.  Last week a little feeling of loneliness hit me while out on a solo bike ride.  I take my bike to work with me on those days I have to get a PM ride in, and when 5:00 hits, I'm changing into my cycling gear and heading out the door.  Riding the same route can sometimes get monotonous, but it doesn't bother me too much.  And I really don't mind riding on my own--there is no pressure to either (a) keep up with somebody or (b) worry whether I'm going too fast/too slow for somebody else.  But I do enjoy sharing the joy of a bike ride with others who enjoy it.

On this particular ride I wanted some company.  Not because I wanted to talk to someone, just to share the journey.  It felt lonely.  But then I went to my masters swim class and once again felt part of a community.  Although there really isn't much socializing during the swim (since talking while swimming doesn't normally work out very well), it is still a semi-social event.  Many of us attending the masters class are new to swim class as adults.  We're working through our stroke deficiencies together, commiserating (and celebrating!) our challenges and achievements.  And then there is the run clinic that I've been participating in for the past few weeks.  It's only an hour once a week, but the support that everyone gives each other as we work through sprint drills or new running form is just awesome.  And then there are the group rides with my triathlon club.  Although triathletes should really train on the bike without drafting, since drafting is not allowed in a triathlon, I am still able to join the group at some rides and just ride a little bit off the back of the person in front of me. 

Over the past couple of years, Brian and I have met so many new and amazing people through our biking, running and triathlon groups.  We have different backgrounds, we represent all ages, we have different professions (in fact I don't know many of the professions of some of the people I swim/bike/run with frequently!), but we all enjoy getting in some exercise and participating in this little subculture we've created.  Some of us are training for specific events, others for a first running race or century or triathlon, others just want to stay fit or get fit.  Many have always been into sports (I've been doing some sort of sport since I started playing softball at age 9), and others never did anything remotely like a sport until later in life.  And I think what I find so amazing about all of these groups is how welcoming everybody is.

I was just at a baby shower this weekend and talking to a friend of a friend who I hadn't seen in a while.  We had belonged to the same marathon training program a few years ago, so we were talking about that because she had gotten away from running and was thinking of getting back into it.  She brought up how at first she thought that she shouldn't join because people would think she was too slow or not good enough, but that she was completely wrong and instead found a wonderfully supportive group of people.  As we talked further about that, I was talking about a woman I met a few years ago through cycling and who I continue to encourage to reach her next level of potential (because I know she has more levels to climb!). I mentioned that I know she is extremely encouraging to runners who feel they are too slow.  As we talked, we realized that this woman knew her and did just that--encouraged her when she was wanting to quit, and got her through it.  Small world, but not surprising.

So although I know that my Ironman journey may occasionally feel lonely, I also know that I can always find my swim/bike/run buddies to relieve that loneliness and feel connected to this amazing group of people once again.

I encourage you to find your group...no matter what your interest, I guarantee there is a group of people, close to your home, getting together for it soon.  Ask The Amazing Google Machine, it will find them for you.