The Allure of Kona

I've fallen for it too. When I first started watching the NBC broadcast of Ironman, it sucked me in. This was years before I ever considered myself able of completing the Ironman distance, even over multiple days. I did 5 seasons of triathlons before my first Ironman, and by then I knew all the history of the race and as well as the big names. Before I even did my first triathlon, I remember chatting with Jenny's friend David, who was eventually my triathlon role model, about Mark Allen. I was sure he would win the Olympic triathlon one day when it became a sport, because he was just that good. David said, no, he will be retired by then, and probably wouldn't win even if he wasn't. I thought he was betraying a hero of mine. Instead he was just right.

But anyway, by then I was already sucked into it all and believed that Kona was the ultimate, far-fetched and probably never achievable goal. Especially since I couldn't fathom how anybody could go those distances. Also, I was in high school and 3 miles of running was a long way. 

I seem to remember that I had a lot of confidence in myself at my first qualifier. I told a friend that I was not waiting a year for her to race with me because the 18-24 age group would be easier to qualify in. It was. There was a ridiculous number of slots for about 20 of us: two. When I found out I had gotten one of those slots I sprinted to the nearest ATM (no credit cards accepted!) and withdrew my $300 immediately. 

I had a less than stellar mediocre terrible race, but somehow forgot it all and went back for more. After improving the next two times I thought I had gotten the hang of it. The fourth time proved that I most certainly did not, and it has mostly cured me of the desire to ever race in any heat, on any island of Hawaii, around any old volcano, through any lava fields again. Until...the Thursday before race day comes again every October, and I see everyone's underpants run pictures, and morning swims at Dig Me beach, and huge mugs of Kona coffee. Then I get this tiny little urge to go back there again; it seems to get a tiny bit stronger every year. 

 

And then I see pictures of the lava fields and get a little queasy. I run in the 70 degree breeze at home and realize that no matter how many times they tell you it's 87F in Kona, it's actually 137F on the Queen K, and the winds WILL find you. And just before my legs seize up and I start sweating just thinking about that last 12 miles of the bike, I go lie down and prop them up and let that crazy Kona urge slip away for another year. Maybe again someday. I'll just think about it a while here on the couch. 

  

 

Oh yeah, there's this feeling.

 

Then there's this one too.

 

 

 

Another spectator's report: IMCDA

While this was far from my first time spectating an Ironman, it's definitely a different ball game with a tiny baby to take care of. In summary, Jeremy had a good race, and we were very proud of him (and happy it didn't take him longer ;)). 

 If you've never been to Coeur d'Alene, it's a beautiful, cool, woodsy place just outside Spokane, where we stayed. To get there we either had a 1500 mile drive, or Hunter's first plane trip. We chose the latter. I find flying with a baby to be less stressful than driving with one who is not completely happy in his car seat. He got his own boarding pass on Southwest, and stayed wrapped in the Moby, asleep, except when that one flight attendant decided to stand over me until I took him out (my question is, isn't it much safer for him to be wrapped and next to my body??). When he woke up, I had no problem nursing him right there in my middle seat. On one 2.5 hour flight, we stood in the back of the plane, chatting with the flight attendants, for most of the time. 

Our hotel in Spokane was about 30 minutes away from the race site, so Friday morning, we got up and headed over to check the place out. Jeremy was prepared with swim booties and a neoprene cap, just in case. Turns out 57 degree water is not cold enough for him, so he went without. We drove the bike and run courses; since I did the race the bike course has completely changed. It was bit intimidating to me, even with the mountains we have around NM. It was beautiful, but open, so the wind would be a factor. Plus you could see just how much longer you'd have to climb that hill (a long long time). The night before the race we went to a real restaurant, then spent the night in a CDA hotel, which, at a fee of twice our Spokane hotel, was less than half as nice. But it was super close to the race and worked out really well for a sleepy baby at 4:30am.

We bundled up and headed to transition that morning, and found parking about .5 mile away from the action. Just before heading out to the lake, Jeremy realized his Garmin was dead, so the other two of us headed to the car to charge it, with the instructions to hand it through the fence during T1. Getting ready for a morning nap, we watched the start, then nursed in the Moby and waited to see that Daddy, who looked a hypothermic grayish pale color after the swim--but was smiling-- and completed our one assignment of the day.

A short bike loop kept us out and about little longer, then we headed back to the car for snack. Apparently I'd overdressed one of us; H got all cranky when I blasted the heat in the car until I took his fleece off. This apparently is his "mommy just because you're cold doesn't mean I am" look.

Just after unbundling the poor overheated baby, I realized that H's mommy-designed outfit wouldn't be making its public appearance after all. Thank goodness J had dressed him in it and actually seen it. 

We napped and played in the car, walked around the city, and avoided cowbells for several more hours, seeing Jeremy come by on the bike a few times. Nabbing a loud but ideal spot to watch him come into and out of T2, we stood in the shaded run out area under the towering trees by the lake. My efforts were noticed with a "good job to you too, mom" by another mommy spectator wrangling her older kids. It felt nice to be appreciated after deciding that NOBODY cares if you have a sleeping baby (get that cowbell away from me).

J came running by, looking happy, and stopping for a couple of kisses. I put H in the stroller to walk down to a better cheering spot (carrying him and pushing a stroller through crowds on the sidewalk = not easy), and he immediately fell asleep. We headed to a shady spot in a small park, where I walked circles to keep him asleep. At this point I really needed to use the bathroom, and found a porta potty, but just couldn't bring myself to take him into it or to ask the nice young guys playing hackeysack to watch him. So off to the coffee shop we headed, where a handicapped bathroom answered my prayers. We hung out there for a while, since we could see the race going by just outside of the windows.

At some point I realized that we were on the finishing stretch of the run, and not by the half way turnaround, so we headed down a few blocks. Just in time, as we walked up, I heard "1383!" yelled by the special needs volunteer, and looked up to see that running form I've gotten to know so well. He said at this point he was having a really hard time. I know that point in the race, and I've definitely had it while so close to the finish line but headed back out for another loop. 

Hunter and I started having a really hard time too. He was so tired, overwhelmed with all the noise, and he just couldn't sleep. After a bit longer in the coffee shop, and some crying (by both of us), we headed for the finish line, not really knowing when Jeremy would get there. I knew he'd slowed on the way out on the second loop, but I also knew the tracker was wrong for that segment, so i wasn't sure just how slow he was going. He surprised me by picking it back up for the final 6.5 miles, and we were thrilled to hear his name as he finished, and soon after saw him appear on the other side.

PRs are always good, and I feel like he had somewhat redeemed me and my race there 9 years ago.  Hunter seemed super proud of his daddy -- a little bit exhausted, but very proud.

holiday

Typing a blog post on my phone while rocking a sleeping baby may not be ideal, but it's a way to get it done. And it keeps me brief. We had a good trip to Coeur d'Alene last week and have been recovering ever since. I will post a full spectators' report and pictures (the few I got) soon. We were super happy with Jeremy's 30 minute PR on a much hillier course, and I think he's gotten this whole Ironman thing down, just in time to retire from the distance for a while. I'm totally impressed that he trained for two of these things mostly by himself. When he was on call and had to stay nearby, he did multiple loops of the same boring course. Impressive. He must bore much more slowly than I do. But he does have more music on his iPod, and the satellite radio app now... hmmm, take note, self.  I just registered for a spring 70.3.

We are getting super excited for the upcoming holiday week. The fun starts today; we have a special visitor flying in as I type. I cannot wait to see her and show her how boring this place is the desert sights. Then we are headed back home to the southeast for a few days, since we're getting to be experts tat this whole flying-with-an-infant thing. Happy 4th!

Heading north for IM

We picked the perfect time of the summer to head to cooler weather. It's starting to get hot here in the desert with only one day out of the 10 forecasted to be under 100F. I looked at my weather app the other day and said to myself, oh good, Saturday will be nice -- only 97 degrees. We are thankful to be in the high desert with a little altitude to keep us cooler than, say, Phoenix.

Last year we took off for a trip to California around this time, and Thursday we leave for Coeur d'Alene. When it was 103 here yesterday afternoon, it was 55 there. I've started digging up warm fuzzy baby clothes that Hunter has never worn. Since he's been alive I think it has been under 50 degrees for about 15 minutes. He may also get to experience that moisture that falls from the sky.

Hunter and I are getting super excited to be co-spectathletes this weekend. We are just hoping the daddy doesn't take as long getting to the finish line as the mommy did 9 years ago. I have always wanted to go back to CDA. It's not a redemption thing actually. I would hope that even given my lack of long training lately that I could have a better marathon if I got out there this weekend. I really just enjoyed the city and the course -- so much so that I spent all that extra time lying on the grass on the side of the road. I probably could've picked a better spot than in the middle of a neighborhood, like by the lake.

Here are a few things I learned that I can pass on to Jeremy:

- when you're that far north, you get to wake to light and finish your 13:50 IM in the light.
- while a bout of hyponatremia may have made you wary of over drinking, you can still get dehydrated when it's a record breaking hot day.
- you meet more people when you walk the marathon, and you can have your picture taken more.
- sometimes a nap and a gallon of Gatorade is all you need to feel refreshed for the final 10 miles.
- when you can't walk anymore, sit. When you can't sit, lie down.
- if your only choice is 100 degree Gatorade and you're thirsty enough, you will drink it.
 - you can ride up a hill passing people with your eyes closed if there's too much sweat in them to see.
- sometimes the water temperature is the last thing you should worry about.
- enjoy the day no matter what!

Go Daddy!

IMAZ: the spectator's report

I have been so slow in getting around to reporting MY experience, you know, the important one, in Tempe. Jeremy stole the show, as well as all my fabulous pictures (just kidding, I really fell down on the job).

I'm just so excited for him. He did (most of) the training, he stuck to his plan (except for some of the nutrition part), and had an overall great first Ironman. But since you can read the firsthand report from him, I'll just go over my day.

In the days leading up to the race, there was no worry of resting, eating the wrong foods, stressing about gear or how much it was going to hurt. I was totally relaxed; I knew he'd be fine and have fun. We ate sushi (cooked for me) and a few In and Out Burgers. All the fit athletes walking around outdoing each other in their compression socks and tri suits made me feel more happy that I was not competing. Or racing. :)

My friend Rob, a longtime coach and amazing athlete, who has done over 250 triathlons, was there to spectate as well, and I was lucky enough to get some swimming form tips from him on Saturday. We met up at the Arizona State pool, a huge, outdoor, Olympic-sized, clean, clear paradise. I'd swim every day if I had something like that (and the weather to match). I took my mountain bike along to get around easier and realized that I was crazy for not  having attended ASU at some point in my life. I left the pool and rode along a palm-lined pedestrian path right through campus to get to our favorite pizza place.

Race morning was the usual crowded, crazy, cold madness, still with a certain calmness and seriousness among the racers. After watching him do his last preparations, I bid Jeremy farewell for the day, took the bike pump back to the car that was parked ridiculously close to the finish line, and headed up to the bridge over the lake to squeeze in front of 3 rows of people, next to Rob and his friend Tom, who had been up there 45 minutes. I've never seen an Ironman start from such a vantage point, and it was impressive.

We made it to the swim-T1 chute, and I was ecstatic to see Jeremy out running the chute, already stripped, in just over 1:08 (officially in the 1:07s).  The next stop was the bike out/turnaround, and we spent several hours there with me picking Rob's and Tom's brains about coaching theory (Tom is a good friend of the Friels), trying to sweep some glass out of the road (big football games the night before do not help the cleaning crews), and tracking  racers from our phones as best we could. There was a coffee break in there at some point, some attempted pictures, and some worry over Jeremy looking what we thought to be distressed (turns out he was pissed).

We headed back down to the lake to watch the runners come out after our friends had all  headed out on loop 3 of the bike, and we ended up spending hours there. After losing Tom for a bit, we respotted him, wearing a volunteer t-shirt, directing traffic around the run out/start of loop 2. He was much needed! I snapped a few pics of Jeremy, we got some fast food, and I ran back to the car to paint my belly with a Go Daddy for Jeremy's last loop.

Rob kept me entertained throughout the race. He's had so much experience and was around way back when this whole sport started, so he has a great point of view on what's necessary, what's ridiculous, and when you're just being really stupid. I laughed for hours.

Jeremy wasn't doing so well in the middle of the marathon due to stomach issues, and I just really hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed. But when I saw him come around that last turn to the finish line, he was all smiles and running on air. It was either my happiness for him or pregnancy hormones that almost had me crying.

"Dr. Jeremy Harwood, you are an Ironman!"

10 years and 11 Ironmans

It's unbelievable to me that this weekend marks the 10 year anniversary of my first Ironman. It started in 2001 with Ironman Florida when I was just 24, and my 11th one was 2 years ago in Hawaii. To honor my big Ironiversary, I've gone back and looked at some numbers that I've compiled from these 11 races.

4 days, 21 hours, and 26 minutes I have spent racing Ironmans

26.4 miles of swimming in those races

1232 miles of cycling

288.2 miles of running (um, give or take; more on that later)

11:39 the average of those 11 times

244 approximate number of slices of Pizza Hut pan pizza that could fuel that many calories of exercise

I know a lot of people have much more impressive numbers, but I have a few other stats that may be a little more unique.

2 hours, 52 minutes the time difference between my best and worst IM marathons

30 approximate number of minutes spent lying in the grass on the side of the road in a cute Coeur d'Alene neighborhood (that makes up for some of the above stat)

22 minutes and 44 seconds how much slower my run split was than my bike split that year

10 times I have run that loop through St. Andrew's State Park (17 if you also count the Gulf Coast half)

12.52 miles per hour that I averaged in the last 22 miles of the Queen K in my first Kona, 2002. Proof here.

17:28 minutes and seconds I spent in T2 that year

17 approx number of times I was asked what the hell I was doing in there (answer: lying on a cot, eating chips, and getting my blood pressure taken)

1 the number of marathons I've run in the 4 hour range. I had seven 3's, three 5's, and one 6+.

 4 number of different bikes I have ridden in those 11 Ironmans

2 number of those bikes stolen since then (one didn't even last long enough to get me to an IM, see here for a better listing)

It's been such a fun 10 years, and I'm not done yet. I have a few race reports written here of Kona '07, IMFL '08, IMLou '09, and Kona '09. And now for some fun pictures.

IMFL 2001 My very first, and I'm all smiles. Must be first loop.

Notice the required reflective tape. I'm sure satellites could see me from space.

Sadly, I can't find pictures from my first Kona in 2002. I know they're around somewhere. They sure had plenty of time to take pictures of me.

Next was Coeur d'Alene 2003, the inaugural, infamous, 100F race (stats above). Proof that I actually ran at some point (this is before the nap). The guy next to me helped me along, even commandeering a chair from a spectator when I could no longer stand on my own two feet.

I was probably most proud of this finish. I'm even smiling. And no, this wasn't quite my worst time ever.

IMFL 2003 was 5 months later. Much better. Although it looks like this may be my worst run ever based on my shuffle, I actually had my best marathon so far. And look, it's St. Andrew's park!

I waited a whole year to race again. IMFL 2004. I was actually running hard for me, and had a 26 minute PR. Um, St. Andrew's again.

Went to Kona again in 2005 and improved a bit! It helped that Gary raced right next to me, and even waved at me, in the swim. He smoked me later.

But I did improve that year and "ran" under 5 hours.

2006 was back in Florida for a super cold year. This is when I got my "ironman jacket" from Walmart, and 2nd in my AG by 2 minutes. She passed me back in the run when I wasn't looking.

2007 I was back in Kona, and had my best race there so far. I actually ran. Truly. Even smiled on the bike!

2008 was my PR race back in Florida. We had calm winds, but the best part was the friends racing with me. Hey the sun is still up!

Apparently I'm very consistent with my run faces and postures. Check out these two from 2008 and 2004. There's the crooked hat, the arms, the frown. Ha!

IM Louisville was #10

And the final Ironman thus far was Kona in 2009. I'll just put a picture of one of the actual fun parts and just skip the rest.

And while going through pictures I noticed several that feature none other than  GaryIronman. My first one, 2 Konas, CdA, and Louisville, not to mention many other Floridas. We may be about equal in wins-losses to each other, but he's almost tripled my total number!


If only I could count the number of mistakes, hours of training, calories of Gu and Gatorade, meltdowns, blisters, tubes, salt tablets... Looking back has made me a little more nostalgic for the days of training for my old friend Ironman. I plan to get my fix through Jeremy in just two weeks (!!), again in June, and maybe next November in Florida when I go participate in Girls' Zone once again, baby in tow. My friendship with Ironman isn't over yet!

Smells Like Ironman Season

I really love this time of year. It's Ironman season! I love the excitement surrounding Ironmans and the last few weeks of training and taper when you either know you have this one nailed, or the nervousness is setting in about the weather, the heat, your bike being in the shop, or your tendinitis acting up. 

So far the season is well under way, with IM Coeur d'Alene, Lake Placid, Louisville, Canada, Wisconsin, and Wales over. First timers like Keith had solid first races and got hooked, and veterans like Damie overcame tough conditions to finish with a great race. I've personally only done 2 IMs earlier than October, so I feel like we've still got a lot of excitement coming. 

Around these parts it's quite different from what I'm used to. Normally it's me, just me, leaving piles of dirty laundry and water bottles everywhere. I'd scrounge for my own meals in the late evening after a long mid-week brick. But not this year. I've never had a husband train for an Ironman before (or even a IM-training roommate for that matter), and while I'm not giving him his specific training plan, I still feel somewhat responsible for how he races on Nov 20th. I want him to succeed almost as much as I always wanted to, but it's mostly out of my control. That's a weird feeling! I think some of my own "I didn't do a far/ fast/ hard/ windy enough swim/ bike/ run" guilt feelings have been rubbing off on him. It could be for the better, but I know I can be particularly OCD about that, and I hope it doesn't affect him negatively.

My responsibility should be providing nutritious, delicious foods for him, washing 3 loads of laundry a day, moving all 12 water bottles from sink to dishwasher daily, and possibly doing yardwork and extra cleaning for him (ooops, he just mowed the grass; maybe next week). I keep putting that stuff off until 1) my job ends in 2 weeks, 2) my appetite returns from the land of morning sickness purgatory, and/or 3) I figure out which of his athletic clothing actually goes in the dryer (I'm sure I'll shrink something to cut-off 80s tank length). 

He's really being a good Ironman athlete so far. He's not complaining too much; only rarely does he admit to tiredness. Despite my heightened olfactory senses, he really almost never smells after working out (I need to start using his deodorant more often). Since I'm only doing partial rides and runs with him, he lets me sleep in most weekends and picks me up for the second loop. He hasn't complained that I rarely cook these days; he doesn't mind the occasional Sonic or Taco Bell run (ok, yes it's more than occasional). 

I do need to work on my spectating endurance, since I know an all day Ironman spectathlon is a tiring, energy consuming event. Last weekend I practiced with a half, but it honestly seemed to fly by. I was ready for it. Double the distance will take some work, but I look forward to having friends there to sherpa me through it. Luckily I have 9 more weeks of training.

And now to leave you with our featured Ironman athlete, finishing off his last race with a bang head-first slide.

Immediately from stepping over the finish line, to a full speed dive onto this:

 

Don't let that Garmin get submerged in the...! oh, well, that's ok, it'll dry.

 

new end of season goals

I've decided that this is definitely not my year for Ironman, so instead of demonstrating another famous Joy meltdown, I'm going to take my $150 and run. Or just spectate. Or maybe do a little running while I spectate. But Jeremy's still in, so I need to at least do partial workouts with him, so I don't sit on the couch gaining weight while he gets leaner and meaner. Plus, I'm totally doing the base triathlon in 6 weeks. If I can win by 40 minutes like I did at a small race last year (I beat 6 whole women), that will be the icing on the cake. I haven't actually been challenged by one of my tri class participants, but I took it as a challenge when she proclaimed that another beginner would "probably win overall." I'm pretty sure she based this on looks and attendance in aerobics classes. You know, because that translates to triathlon speed. 

So I'm running, swimming and riding my bike a little. I even did a run on base in the middle of the day yesterday, since it was partly cloudy, not super hot, and I had brought my sunscreen and sleeves. I wasn't running very fast, so I was caught off guard when suddenly I needed a bathroom. The problem was that I was not within 15 minutes of one, and the places to squat were minimal. Here's my trail.

It may appear that I'm running in the middle of nowhere, but actually there was a road a few hundred feet to my right. And while the bush in the center looks substantial, I quickly remembered that there are many surveillance methods in use out here. Namely that unmanned aerial vehicle that flew about 50 feet over my head. So no escape.

And while I can handle the heat of the noon sun when I have some cloud cover, I am barely able to handle the heat in my office or house these days. It's regularly 85 in the office, which for some reason is not being cooled appropriately this week. Then I get home to a house that will not cool down in time for me to sleep before midnight. While looking at the temperature last night -- it was still 95F at 8pm -- I came across this.

Ouch, Phoenix! I hope y'all don't have swamp coolers. It's 8pm there and still 112?? And the LOWS are in the 90s? As Jeremy said, how did that ever become a city? And thank goodness we're at a higher elevation.

There better be some kind of big cool down that happens between now and 12 weeks from now, when IMAZ happens. I'm not spectating in that weather.

And as a final note, I'm very excited that my friend Rob, the super badass 65-year-old, won his age group at Sprint Nationals despite the heat and giving up after the swim. Turns out even fast people give up on their races sometimes. Except then they come back and win. 

I've maybe given up on speed as a triathlete, so maybe I'll just come back some day and win something.

racing from a different perspective

I've definitely admitted my fear of deep dark water before. And the name of the triathlon on Saturday didn't ease my fears: "Bottomless Tri." So did this mean the lake was some abyss in the middle of the desert that nobody had found the bottom of yet? Maybe it was just so dark down there that it looked like an ocean trench? *shivers* 

As it turns out, this Bottomless Lake, which is in a string of them near Roswell, has a bottom which is 90 feet below the surface. I don't know exactly why they have to tell me the depths of these things; I always had to look away from the depth finders on ski boats before I'd get into the water. And googling images of the lake didn't help. Exactly how big is this fish??

Lake Lea, the one we swam in, is a water filled sink hole (so it could be getting deeper all the time?), and was really beautiful. The water was clear enough to see at least 10 feet, which is saying a lot for this southerner used to swimming in mud.

So I busied myself before the race doing the usual setting up, helping the man who blew up THREE tubes before the start (if I hadn't been starting in 5 minutes, I probably would've grabbed it from him and done it myself), and getting a good warm up ride and run in. 

This was a the shortest triathlon I've ever done at 450ish meter swim, 8ish mile bike, and 2.6ish mile run. Or something like that. And while I'm not in sprinting shape by any means, I was looking forward to being finished well under an hour. 

I got in the water to warm up cool off in my awesome new wetsuit and paddled around just a bit before they called the women to the starting line. Good, no time to panic. All 18 of us lined up waist deep waiting for the gun. It was a straight out and back, almost all the way across the clear blue water. Within 100 yards I found myself checking out who was around me. I found some feet, kept bumping into them, moved over and did the same to more feet, and realized that these two were the lead girls. I WAS IN THE LEAD PACK! Never before have I been in the lead pack in the swim. Not even for 5 yards. Really. 

I never start too quickly in the swim for fear of panicking, and found that I was staying steady while one of the girls was fading. Getting close to the turn buoy, I was coming up on the inside of the lead girl, who, by the way, was not wearing a wetsuit. I rounded the buoy first and pulled a little ahead. Sure enough, I did it. I pulled to the front of the pack! Now to hang on... When I don't want to panic, I have the tendency to close my eyes while my head is in the water, only opening them to sight above the surface. Because of this and my excitement of leading a swim, I managed to keep images of lake monsters out of my head. I had nothing but smooth clear water in front of me. And I did it! I held them off and came out first to the sound of the men and spectators cheering and my name being announced on the loudspeaker! 

I ran through a quick hose shower and even told the kid holding it, "I've never been first out of the water before!" I heard a comment from the water table, "Is that the first swimmer?" I might've said, "YES! Can you believe it?" 

I could just end the race report there, since I've never been so proud of my swimming. 

The short story is I won overall. But here's the rest, which is a little less exciting. Into T1 I was closely followed by a couple of other girls, including the non-wetsuit wearers. The one right behind me hopped on her bike just as I was, and I kind of let her get ahead of me, just to check her out. Despite the big college trisuit, she had no TT bars of any sort, so I felt a little relief that maybe the swim was really her strong suit.

Immediately out of T1 was the longest hill of the day. I'd been warned of this, but we'd ridden it in warm up and knew these were flatlanders talking about the size of it. Big school tri suit was hurting right at the start and I couldn't just sit there behind her, so I passed. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't look back. Before the top of the hill, a motorcycle with a yellow clad rider passed and stayed 200 yards ahead of me. A pace vehicle! In yellow, no less! I was fully expecting a woman on the back holding a chalkboard with my lead scrawled in minutes and seconds. 

The road surface was definitely the hardest part of the bike ride. It was standard chip seal, like 90% of the roads around here are, but it had a bumpy, wave-like quality. So not only was it rough enough to take a few millimeters of rubber off my tires, but it was so bumpy I couldn't make out the biggest numbers on my computer, and drinking from my profile straw the little Gatorade that hadn't splashed out of the bottle was almost impossible without stabbing the roof of my mouth. 

A few sections of road were decent enough to get some speed going, even in the TT bars (without falling off of them), and occasionally I'd gain on the pace bike. Then he'd pull away. Each race monitor sitting in his truck on the route would radio when I went by. I;d have felt like a celebrity, if only the paparazzi had been there.

Into T2 I was still in the lead, experiencing this race from a perspective I've never experienced before. Never have I lead a women's field with no men ahead of me. The run was an out and back, with almost no elevation gain, but luckily the few feet we gained was in the first half. It was already hot by this point, and there was exactly one tree that provided shade on the course. When I got to the turnaround and saw that second place was not in sight, I let myself slow down a bit more and tried to relax. I didn't do a good job of checking  my gap on her, but decided it was a two or three minutes. Getting to see some men going out on the run helped pass the second half, and before I knew it, I was finishing very first. 

I realized the stress that good swimmers must have. I can't take the pressure of being chased like that! Of course in these reverse order triathlons, I get a taste of it by knowing those fast swimmers are chasing me. But that one still goes down in the record books as the day I won the swim. :)

Racing at 7000ft

Just an hour away, up in the mountains, lies the great little Village of Ruidoso. It's completely different from my town in atmosphere, weather, landscape, and altitude. Where we have cacti, they have pines. Instead of IHOP, they have delicious local bakeries. It's a little ski resort town at the bottom of Sierra Blanca, shown here:

The Ruidoso Sprint Tri was Saturday, so we traveled uphill that morning to much cooler weather. The car said 37F at one point. Since there is little swimmable water in this state, it was to be a pool swim, with the run around a cute little fishing lake nearby. Distances advertised to be 3.5 run/ 10 bike/ 400yd swim.

The women started off 10 minutes behind the men, running, of course, up a hill. I recognized about two of the women, one of whom is a super fast 50 year old, and the other a blond woman who ran in just ahead of me at my DNF race a few months ago. I didn't know if I'd have been able to catch her on the bike then since I didn't get a chance. At the starting horn, a well-tattooed chick took off up that hill and held her lead. I settled into 4th behind Tattoos, the fast blond, and another woman, with the 50 y-o behind me, like I expected her to be until the bike. About 10 minutes in, we turned off a perfectly nice fire road onto a rocky, dirty, 20% graded trail. I was trying to keep the two right ahead of me within a reachable distance, and found that even though they were running, I could walk and not lose time on them. So I walked.  Multiple times, in fact. I twisted an ankle only once and never fell down the sloping hill into the lake.

Here is the scenic Grindstone Lake. Too bad I was too busy looking at the rocks in front of me to enjoy the views.

I ended up passing the woman just in front of me at the end of the run, but never caught the blond or tattoos. But I could see blondie from the start of the bike. I noticed that I would slowly pull her in on the steeper sections of the uphills, but when it flattened out, she'd pull away. Maybe all those hills have been helping! But still I couldn't keep my speed above about 9 mph, and it didn't seem to be that steep of a grade. At the turnaround, I found out why. It was not only more of a hill than I'd realized, but we had also had a headwind! The 50 y-o had passed me just before the turnaround, and she and blondie took OFF down that hill. I thought my 35mph would be plenty fast, but they were gone. I get a little scared and wobbly over 35, so the brakes came on then. Tattoos had been just a little ahead when I saw her, but I wasn't sure that my downhill abilities were going to be enough to catch anyone. 

About a mile before the finish, blondie was pulled over messing with her bike. Turns out it was just rubbing a bit when she stood, but I still had to pass and move on after making sure she was ok. Now I had someone chasing me, which helped me not get complacent.

After T2, for which I was not ideally positioned, we had a carpeted run up onto the road, across the road, down a hill, through a parking lot, between some buildings, and into the pool. I had plenty of time to pull on a cap (it makes me feel faster when my head floats) and my goggles. I jumped into a mass of chaos. Men were everywhere thrashing around, passing, clocking me, breaststroking. I was somehow able to get a few good strokes in when not getting backed up on a wall. There were very few chances to pass, except when you got to the end of the 4 lanes and had to get out, get marked, run around the pool, and get back in. When I caught a glimpse of Tattoos, I thought I had a chance to catch her. If she had planted those men to fight me back they couldn't have done a better job of slowing me down. I even started yelling at one point while standing behind 4 guys at the wall, "It's a race! Go!" Out of the pool, we had to run another couple hundred carpeted yards to the finish line. And by the time I got there, Tattoos was out of sight. Turns out she beat me by 20 seconds, while I had beat 2 of her 3 splits. Why can't I run faster??

But thanks to mechanical failures of others' bikes, I maintained my 3rd OA position and got the best trophy ever -- a carved bear that stands on my mantel at about 2 feet high. 

Jeremy and I both checked our bike splits after the race to find the exact same time on our computers. But turns out he beat me by a few seconds in the official results. He also beat me in T2, which was essentially a cyclocross practice of carrying my bike over spots of carpet that covered large, sharp gravel. I wonder if everyone did that. He had a smoking fast "swim" time, which included that adventurous carpeted run x2, and finished just out of the bears.

At the end of this week, we're off to California with our bikes to enjoy the Pacific coastline for a while.

That Gray Area

Too bad training and racing isn't all black and white. I'm typically a very concrete thinker. I like my right and wrong answers; physics was always fun to me because there was a single right answer. Lately I've been a fan of the gray area. Just ask my coworkers. I'm always giving times and amounts in "ish"es. What time are you going to lunch? 11ish. How many people were in your class? 20ish. If I don't know the yes or no, right or wrong, down to the decimal place answer, it's an ish.

While exercise physiology is a hard science, there are a lot of unknowns. Think about the huge combination of biochemical reactions going on all the time. Individuals are so different in their specific physical structures and muscle fiber make-ups, their VO2maxes, their hormone balances, their need of rest and recovery, etc.

Why is it that one athlete can race Ironmans month after month for years, never going over the edge, while another can have years of success only to hit some sort of wall suddenly? What makes me need 10 hours of sleep while others do great on 7? Why can't I do over 50 miles per week and not have hip pain? Is one little virus responsible for pushing me to the point of no return, stuck in the nightmare of overtraining syndrome? 

One thing I've learned in my decade of triathlons (I honestly didn't train for the first 3 seasons) is that while there are guidelines of training for specific distances, there are a lot of right answers. There are a lot of wrong ones too, as I've learned the hard way. 

The problem is figuring out what exactly goes wrong. Why after years of successes, can changing a few things here and there cause-- bam!-- Failure. With a capital F. That gray area. That darn ISH area. So without pinpointing a virus or the two Ironmans 6 weeks apart, or any other method of my training, I will go delving into the gray, hoping to find the answers to get out. 

I really like Macca. I just read this excerpt from his new book, I'm Here to Win. I know he's slightly cocky, a little outspoken, and has a tendency to rub people the wrong way. But I really like his confidence. And I feel like we bonded in Kona one year when we both relaxed prerace by the hotel pool. I think he smiled at me. 

He "lost" the first few times he went to Kona. Trouble with the heat and humidity (I hear you, brotha) were realized his first year there, in 2002, my first year there! Of course, I finished up the race with a 5:30+ marathon; he DNFed. Joy = 1, Macca = 0. He "humiliated" himself there the next year with a 9:32 finish time (I know, how embarrassing), but went on to win in '07. Joy = 1, Macca =~5. I happen to remember coming back down Palani -- on the bike-- while hearing his name announced at the finish line. Finishing. He had another rough few years there in '08 and '09 (me too!), then figured his stuff out in time to win again in 2010. He just never gives up. 

I unfortunately don't have the same attitude right now. I don't have confidence anymore, and I don't have the drive to get back where I used to be (mostly because it seems completely unattainable). But I find a lot of inspiration in his story of lots of successes and a good many failures along the way too. He's really not afraid to fail. I need to remember that.

On a completely different note, I learned this week that 1) cactus leaves (branches? stems?) just like these are sold in the produce department in Walmart, right next to the peppers. I have no idea how to cook them, but I do know I need to de-prickle them first. And while this is not my front "yard," it is similar. Just with more vegetation than mine. And much neater rocks.

 

And I learned that 2) this thing below is called a guava. And here I've been calling it a giant asparagus all this time. Before these bloom, the stalk, which is about 15 feet tall, looks exactly like an asparagus stalk. I read that they only bloom like this once in their life, after living 5-35 years as a small pointy succulent.  That's a way to retire for sure.

Consider yourself a little more educated. 

This weekend holds the excitement of a good friends and good food in Santa Fe. Happy Memorial Day!