Thursday, September 29, 2016

The Single 2016 Race Report

How it became the end of September without so much as a photo posted from our August trip to Seaside, I don't know. The beach was hot, sunny, and beautiful, the house perfectly located, and the company incredible. We dug, ran, swam, splashed, jumped, ate, lounged, played, and relaxed.

After arriving home and getting back into all-things-school again, Hunter decided it really was not for him, and it got more difficult (for me) every day. The turning point came when I was squatting by his classroom door consoling and trying to convince him to go in, balancing on my toes and nursing a hungry baby, and being interrupted by the assistant principal who asked if she could help take him in his classroom. Um, no? I was a little confused until I realized that she did not want me nursing there. She was lucky my mind was attending to more important things and that her boss called to apologize to me later. We are back to full-time unschooling, without the curriculum. Except not by my choice. We have never let anyone cry it out around here, and beginning school was not the time to break that rule. So. Not much time for mommy to get training plans and blog writing done. Then there's that pesky housework and cooking gig, which I honestly don't mind so much.

Last we talked, I had been to the pain clinic with all the other senior citizens to see what could be done with my back. After our vacay I went in for a little steroid injection in the L5-S1 facet joint. It was guided by x-ray, and I have a great picture of just how awful it looks compared to the left side; it garnered comments from the anesthesiologist about how we knew this was indeed the right spot. The numbing meds injected just prior to the steroid took my pain completely away immediately, to my great relief. Too bad the steroid didn't completely take care of it long term...

Since I had so much less pain, I had been riding 45 minutes on the trainer like 4 days a week, swimming twice a month, AND I ran 2 miles in 15 mins (no, really!) one day, I decided that I should partake in the local sprint triathlon. This was the only race I did last year, and the last race I did 2 years ago. It has been warm enough that of course no wetsuits were allowed, so without my life-saving neoprene, I decided to start very wide with the first timers. I panic especially bad when people whack me in the head, and avoiding them surely saved me a few attacks. Still, I can barely swim to save my life. It is hard to believe that these actual same arms have swum decent Ironmans (even though once I got a "wow, you have so much room for improvement in the swim!" after an especially good race) and lived to bear weight on aerobars for many hours after. My Garmin somehow measured my swim at about 200 yards instead of 500, so it tells me my 100 yard rate is over 4 minutes, which makes me feel soooo much better about myself.

After the longest 500 yards ever, I stood up all woozy, started to run, then remembered I better save my hip impact for the actual run, and walked up to T1. When you race once a year, you forget how to put on a helmet and lap your Garmin, so T1 took a while. And mounting a bike with a hip that doesn't really go that direction? I hadn't practiced that. For the 15 mile bike ride, I tested out a position I hadn't seen since April: aero. It didn't hurt at the time, but my hip and back told me all about it later. I rode with my powertap for the first time ever, and hmmmm. At least it was a distraction from my speed, which, thanks to Strava, I know was a bit slower than previous years. To my relief? dispair? my front tire was completely flat once I got  home and started unpacking the car. When did that happen? Maybe I can go faster...

Then I got to the run. My plan was to enjoy it all, since I didn't expect to be able to complete this distance a few months ago, much less run it all. But I started slowly, with heavy legs, achy hips, and tall grass to run through. Drew gave me the gap on 2nd place as I started, and I figured there was no way I would be catching any girls. First place was waaaay ahead after the turnaround, and 2nd was wearing running shorts, a tank top, and a headband, which could only mean one thing: relay. Shannon was next behind me, and after some math I realized I should be able to keep her there, though she did make me speed up a bit. I negative split the run and managed a 7:50something pace, despite my hip and back now yelling at me.

I finished a distant 2nd female, at a speed-- in all 3 disciplines-- slower than my old Ironman pace. But who's counting? (not me. ok, me.)

Truly, I had a great time. My body hurt and I have taken many many doses of ibuprofen since then, and I am working on scheduling a rhizotomy on the sensory nerve to my dumb facet joint. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit sad about how unlike my old self I felt, but hopefully the master's category next year will treat me well.

But happy 10 years to my good ole Quintana Roo, and happy 20 years of triathlon to me! It has been my thing for more than half my life, and I wouldn't change that fact, even for a healthy set of joints.

I'm now going to focus on my three coaching clients who have Ironman Louisville in 10 days! Eek! I'm excited.#livingvicariously

No comments:

Post a Comment