Back "home"

Last week was running camp in New Orleans. It was just me and the pavement for most of the runs, but I decided to get back at it by running 6 days in a row. I probably haven't achieved this frequency of running since college. And I haven't done that much mileage in a week since at least last fall. I had a great time running down the trolley line on St. Charles with all the beads decorating the trees; into the Garden District neighborhood with all their big old houses and bumpy sidewalks; down the median of Esplanade, where I had much more success with actually running than last time I tried it (NOLA 70.3); along the riverwalk listening to the Natchez play its music; on the treadmill because it poured all day. Every night to reward myself for an excellent run, we went to a delicious restaurant to fill the tank. Actually, we would've done that anyway, but it helped me feel less guilty. I was back at home in the humidity, around people with familiar accents, who conversed over such topics as SEC football. 

But now we're back "home," to the still slightly unfamiliar terrain, where people talk in an assortment of accents, but not about football. For me, the hardest part of coming back had to be the neighbor. This neighbor is hands down the nosiest person I've ever met. Not only does he have keys to our house, but he also has the trust of our landlord who, ironically, has never had to live next door to him. I almost can't go in the backyard without him either appearing in his side yard, with me in perfect view, or actually coming over to bother me. And forget the front yard! We have to sneak out to get the mail. He is semi-retired, and spends 98% of his time in his open garage, wearing nothing but jean shorts and 8 gold chains. His beady little eyes are always there to see my comings and goings. Upon arriving home from our trip Sunday, we caught him guiltily coming out of our back gate. I hadn't made it in the door before he was ringing our front bell to deliver our mail (don't remember asking him to get it) and explain why he needed to take care of the house and cats next time we're out of town. I completely missed his reason, since all I could hear was, "I'd like to snoop through your stuff." And by the way, his wife is the nicest person you can imagine! I have many more stories of his creepiness that just add to reasons to change the locks. I have no experience with this type of thing; any advice?

The excitement of coming home had to do with my garden. I've planted a few things out back, and I was happy to see that nothing died! I ate my first cucumber today, and have two tiny tomatoes, a small squash, and a microscopic eggplant. Now if I could just go out back and check on them... let's see if the neighbor's around!

Adventures of the mid-week variety

We're going to New Orleans next week (yay! vacation for me, since I'm so overworked :)), so we used that as an excuse to get in some good "long" training. Tuesday, still obsessed with trails, I wanted to try out a hike/run at Dog Canyon, just a little ways south of here. Turns out that we probably ran about half a mile total in our 4 mile hike, due to the rockiness or steepness of the trail (or maybe the cacti thorns 2 inches off the side, or the hundred foot drop off just beyond...). We saw no cougars or rattlesnakes, much to my dismay, but some really great views of the valley below.

Yesterday J got off work early, so we set out on yet another new bike route. This time we rode from our house up north to take the back way up the mountain, in effort to avoid lots of traffic. I'm not sure who really lives up on the mountain, and where they work, so the worst of the traffic may be on the weekends when people are headed up to recreate. But anyway, we immediately turned into a headwind. My legs were actually more sore from Tuesday's hike than even the 10k last weekend, so grinding up the false flat with a headwind made the ride start really slowly. We made it to the next town, La Luz, and J had an excuse for his feeling crappy: a flat, on his brand new Gatorskin. 

Just after changing the flat we turned and headed up. Every road is named for a canyon around here, and luckily I found just the canyon we were looking for. Twice we came upon signs in the road that warned us NOT to cross if flooded. And sure enough, the road was "flooded." These New Mexicans sure like to exaggerate. They call it monsoon season when it rains twice a week. "Humid" is 50%. Flooded to them means 6 inches of water slowly flowing across the road. So of course we crossed anyway. The rest of the route included a couple of cattle gaps (no surprise there) and lots of small gravel. Normally I would've been really wary of this much gravel on the road (lesson learned by my first big crash on a tri bike 12 years ago), but since I was going so slowly, I figured it wouldn't hurt too badly when I fell into it. Even with all the weaving across the road, there was no crashing. And luckily, no traffic either. 

We saw in the distance some really nice looking trails (told you I'm obsessed) that we are going to have to visit. Otherwise it was a beautiful vista (everything is named vista) of the canyon as we ascended. I'd mapped this course beforehand just to see how awful it might be. I realized that the elevation graph is color-coded by what your face is going to look like while you're riding that section. 

It starts out yellowish, turns orange, red, and by 8% it's well on it's way to purple. Then going down that hill it's pretty green with nausea. Actually the descent wasn't too bad. We decided to take the main road back down, since it was well past rush hour. The sun was in our eyes, at least when mine were open. I seriously need blinders like horses wear, so that I can't see the drop off just beyond the guardrail. By far the scariest spot was the tunnel. It only lasted about a quarter mile, but once inside, it was pitch black. J was a few hundred feet ahead of me, and he completely disappeared from my view. About halfway through, I thought it was only a hallucination of a truck approaching from behind. But I still pedaled my heart out through the blackness, praying that this road that was invisible to me was smooth. Finally I emerged, gathered my wits, and turned around to find that the truck was real. At least he had his lights on. Next time, I will too. And I'll remember to take my sunglasses off.

The rest of the way home was mostly downhill, but the wind of course had changed directions, reminding us that that thunderstorm in the distance could be coming our way. But we made it safely to our doorstep, only still wet from a creek crossing, out of water, tired, and hungry.

As of today, it's taper time for our upcoming sprint in Socorro, which should be flat and fast. Or flat and windy. But it's a pool swim, so time to go practice my flip turns under lane ropes!

Have a great weekend!

another weekend, another race

First things first: Jeremy has started his very own blog. Now you can actually read the true story other side of the story!

We're slowly getting involved in the running and triathlon scene in the area, and we continued to submerge ourselves on Saturday night. With a billboard advertisement, I could only assume that the 5k/10k/half marathon was going to be huge. I decided on the 10k since it seemed a good middle distance. I contemplated forcing myself to run 13, but really lacked motivation. And just doing the 5k seemed a little wimpy (plus I have no speed). At least I could get a decent workout out of a 10k. Arriving at registration about 25 minutes before race start, we found ourselves getting numbers 28 and 29 of the 10k. Maybe there wasn't going to be the crowd I expected. 

All distances started together just before a thunderstorm came over the mountains. By mile 1 we were slipping and sliding, but running toward a rainbow in the distance. I caught men one by one over the first mile or so, and just before the 5k turnaround, I had three in front of me. They all turned around. The next stretch of road was a slight uphill toward our neighborhood, a road we've run frequently these last 3 weeks. My pace was pretty steady; I only slowed down 10 seconds in the second mile. The third mile seemed to last forever, and the marker was located at precisely the 10k turnaround. Now my math skills while running are pretty terrible, but I knew when this mile was over THREE minutes slower than the last one that the course just may be mismarked. Of course, having not one person in front of me, or anyone very close behind me helps the motivation none. At the turnaround I got to scope out the competition, and I found that a few half marathon runners were closest behind, my husband was the next 10k runner, and another woman behind him. The second half was populated by runners making their way out, and eventually some 5k walkers to keep me going. But not another mile marker was placed for the 10k. I immediately felt sorry for the half marathoners (who ran well into the night) when I saw the "12" mile mark when we had at least 2 miles to go. We figure the 10k was .5-.6 miles long.

Crossing the finish line in first overall overall was a new experience for me! And I was excited to win, even though I was at least 4 minutes slower than I'd expected for a tempo pace AND I had only beaten 28 people. J got the overall male award (I keep emphasizing the male), and we both (surprisingly to the race director) won our age groups as well.

Sunday we decided to torture ourselves with another ride in the mountains. Actually I look forward to these in a kind of nervous-because-it's-going-to-hurt-so-much way. But it's so beautiful and so different than what we're used to, it's really a lot of fun. We drove up to Cloudcroft at 8800ft and climbed from there to Sunspot, where the largest vacuum telescope in the world lives. We stopped on top for a quick tour of the observatory, a snack, and an adding of arm warmers. It was cold! But the sun came out for our return trip, plus there was plenty of climbing on the way back to keep us warm. It was a slower trip than our last mountain ride, and we found that we had climbed 3200ft in just 35 miles this time, at a higher altitude. So we're averaging 15 mph, but on 8-9% hills, at a place where there's only 2/3 of the oxygen content of sea level, so we don't feel so bad about slogging out the slow miles. It's certainly scenic. If J would just not hold the pictures hostage on his phone I could show you.

Yea for internet photos! Here's the telescope. I did not take this :)

Dam it Man Tri

We traveled up to Truth or Consequences to race on Saturday at Elephant Butte Lake, in Dam it Man Triathlon. It was another inaugural race, but unlike some others that I have not had awesome experiences with (IMCdA, Degray Lake 1/2...), this one went smoothly. The lake is a reservoir of the river that runs through town, which means I swam in the Rio Grande, more or less. Completely different from what I think of when I think of major rivers (ahem, the Mississippi, the Ohio), it was clear enough to see your hand in front of you!

Friday evening we did a little course preview to see just what 1400+ft of climbing in 12.5 miles looks like. The first thing we noticed was just how far down the lake was from transition. That picture from my last post? Yeah, it was taken from near transition, looking down at the dock that was the swim start/exit.

Here's another view of the run to T1. Or maybe hike is a better word for it.

It looks even more intimidating from this view:

Anyway, we managed to get through registration despite some rudeness from a volunteer and headed to our pre-race dinner at Pizza Hut.

The next morning we awoke to overcast skies, but thankfully no rain. I wasn't up for those descents, gravel included, in the rain. The temperatures have been really cool around these parts due to this whole monsoon season thing, and we were lucky to have our long sleeves!

We got all set up in transition,

and I taught the first time volunteer about where to mark what. Unfortunately this was after someone had marked J. So which is he, 29 or 33? Glad I wasn't trying to run him down.

The race organizer had measured the water temp at 77F just before the race, but somehow the USAT official thermometer read 80, so wetsuits were out. I'm always amazed at how many comments I get about my blueseventy speedsuit. People like to remind me wetsuits aren't legal, and I quickly tell them this has neutral buoyancy. Do you think I'd really be that slow if it did?

So down to the ramp all 60 of us participants hiked, and we did a deep water start in the clear-ish green water. Out and back around one buoy, for only 400ish meters (they're always long, aren't they?), and out onto a small temporary ramp. The race directors told us that "the football players" would be there to help us out. I got a few feet from the ramp, held my arms in the air, and I was hoisted up onto, well, my knees (ouch), in a split second. I had brought my extra running shoes down for the uphill hike, which turned out to be insignificant climbing for this race. Still T1 took almost 4 minutes.

Onto the bike, I immediately climbed up out of the parking lot, down a hill, made a few sharp turns, and found myself on the dam. We went over two dams that are not normally open to the public. That's fun in a "nobody else gets to do this" sort of way, but it also means that the cars don't clean up all the patches of grass along the rugged road. Here's the dam.

Over 1400 feet of climbing in 12.5 miles is like doing over 9 Jackson Hills. Which means that even though we got a couple of great downhills, those times are slow! Most of the time I couldn't see anyone ahead of me on the course. I passed a few guys and a couple of girls; one stalled out on the first hill, and the other one, who kept looking behind her going up one of the long hills, eventually just pulled over to the side of the road. Suddenly I was in third place, although I got reports of everything from first to fourth. I knew I wasn't near the fastest swimmers, so I went with the fourth. One of these days I'll learn to ride hills!

Onto the run. Similar to the bike, we had to climb up up and up out of T2. This short run was only 2.25 miles, and was almost all up the first half. During the brief downhill on the way out I saw J and the first place girl coming back in. Then another girl. Then I got distracted by the massive gravel road of switchbacks that lead up to the turnaround loop. I walked a few steps here just to get my feet on solid ground. The rocks were as big as my feet! Finally the long downhill came and I found my rhythm. My, how I love running downhill. I crossed the line after a sloooooow run and was determined to be 3rd.

J had finished as 4th place male! He and I compared times and found that he'd beaten me by over 3 minutes. We knew the swim was a given, and he had beaten me on the bike this time too. I knew it was coming. He maxed out at 40 on one of the downhills. Me and my scared self couldn't get over 30. But since they had messed up the initial results (adding 5 mins here, taking away 5 there), we could only calculate that he'd also beaten my run time! I didn't think that would happen anytime soon. I felt a little fire of motivation return with this news.

We hung out around the lake for a while and kept checking results again to see if they'd been fixed. After some discussion with fellow racers, someone said, "I heard that some people didn't go all the way to the water tower." Ah ha! Suddenly, there was an explanation for why 1) J had beaten me on the run, and 2) the two girls in front of me had outrun me by 3 minutes! It seems most of the first finishers had not been directed by the little girls manning the water station to keep running up the hill before turning around. No fault of their own, but they skipped all of this:

Of course I didn't report this to anyone since my husband had done it and the girls would've beaten me anyway. The men's standings wouldn't have changed either. No harm done, we just had to race longer. This does give me a sense of relief that I may still be able to outrun J and beat him overall, but he sure is breathing down my neck.

Next up is a 10k this Saturday night, followed by another sprint up north the next weekend. Quality workouts to come!

Irrational fears

I have a terrible fear of deep dark water. I know I've mentioned it before, but it seems to be getting worse. I think it's the upcoming swim in a *new* lake, the same lake that a small airplane crash landed into last week (the pilot is fine). So what bothers me about this is the fact that the airplane sank to the bottom of the lake and they haven't pulled it out yet. I was slightly relieved to read that it's only ~45 feet deep, but I still don't want to know that something that large is down there under me and I can't see it. Or maybe I will be able to see it, I don't know. In reality, I doubt we'll even be in the vicinity of that plane, but still. 

To keep myself calm in deep dark waters of triathlon swims I usually close my eyes while my face is in the water, but it sure is hard to see the foot that is coming at your face when you do that. When the water is really clear and I can see the bottom (ummm, let's see, that's early on in IMFL or in the shallower parts in Hawaii), I'm calmed by it. Sometimes I can get distracted watching the fish or coral. And I have no problem scuba diving to depths of over 100ft. So what's my problem, and what do I do about it??

Speaking of this weekend's race, here's a picture of the lake.

So I'm guessing it'll be an uphill run into T1? :)

We are New Mexicans!

We finally arrived! Actually it's been a week now; a week filled with unpacking and figuring out where everything is in town. We did the drive in one long long day, but I managed to entertain myself with talking on the phone and, once in west Texas, looking for and trying to avoid smashing tarantulas on the road. Exciting! Thankfully we have not seen any of the monsters in our neighborhood.

A lot of work on the house was needed and we've done a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. Two bathroom floors have been redone (vinyl tiled), three rooms have been painted, and LOTS of unpacking has been accomplished.

Between all that we've gotten in some running, a couple of rides, and a swim. We are at ~4300ft of elevation, and given the equation for the amount of oxygen in the air, P = P₀ exp(-M g z / RT), means we were breathing HARD the first few days. Really just walking up and down the stairs and moving boxes was enough for an aerobic workout. But we had to explore on foot, so we ran here:

No, not up in the mountains; that we saved for our ride. We drove up to 8800ft to begin our ride on Saturday. Below was our ride elevation, the first half of which took less than an hour; the second half took well over an hour.

We gained 2800ft in those 20 miles. It definitely wasn't steep, but it kept going and going. The fun part about going up the hill was definitely the seven cattle gaps we had to cross with our bikes and cleats on our shoes. I was cursing the farmers that couldn't just fence in their $%&!# cows! It's hard to get momentum back again when you have to stop, dismount, try not to break your ankle, get back on going uphill, etc, every quarter mile. I think we can find a route that goes up from our starting point instead of down for next time. That way we get the hard part over with early on.

Not sure what the hawks are after... this was the downhill part of the ride, so we weren't looking too bad!

After the ride we put on our running shoes for our brick, which consisted of a couple of miles of hiking on the nearby trails. It was cool up there and beautiful. I'm definitely coming back to run and mountain bike here. Supposedly there are miles and miles of Rim Trail around those mountains in the picture above. I can't wait to find them.

The weather has definitely been different from home. The first day we were here it was cold and wet, no kidding. It was in the 70s all day and rained 2 inches. It's "monsoon season." And the locals are dying in the humidity. Luckily when it gets hotter, it gets drier. Like this afternoon it's around 100F but 20% humidity, so when you start dripping with sweat, you just go stand in the shade a few minutes. It's 15 degrees cooler in the shade! We have this crazy humid air conditioning system that makes everything sticky inside, which isn't pleasant when it's raining, but it's supposed to feel great when it dries up outside.

We went to the AF base pool for a swim the other day. They have an indoor 25 yd pool for lap swimming that is to be closed for 10 days or so. Because of that we got to swim in the 50 meter outdoor pool on Friday. It was fantastic. But it just hurts that they don't have regular lap swimming hours!

We've signed up for a little (hilly) sprint on Saturday. Look, I'm back to racing already! I knew it wouldn't take long.

the heat is on

I've had my fair share of meltdowns. And I mean physically melting. For some reason this summer has hit me harder than usual. I think it may come from the cumulative effect of several incidences in my past, including my bout with hyponatremia, and most recently, some heat sickness in Hawaii. Last week, hitting a new PR of sweating out 5 pounds in a 1:05 run, I think I became a little dehydrated and unable to adequately rehydrate. Runs in particular got worse and worse, until I was unable to go for more than about 25 minutes continuously. 

It has been hot, but I wouldn't say hotter than normal, and it's not like all this heat and humidity is new to me. So I've been doing a little reading to see what is normal and what is not. 

I've learned first of all that I am lucky to be as small as I am. I thought maybe having less surface area (especially with a stockier build) was inhibiting the heat from escaping. Apparently this isn't the case, as "smaller runners are still able to lose more heat relative to heat production than larger runners." Period. Well ok then, I'll lose a few pounds. Yet another reason. :)

At least I only have a slight chance of cooking my brain. Like the poor cheetahs that were run to heat exhaustion on a treadmill, humans tend to cease all activity at a body temp of 40C as well. This is regardless of heat adaptation, the rate of heat storage, pre-run cooling, and any external "intervention." And not only that, your central governor (remember that one?) will cause an anticipatory regulation of pacing so that if it feels you are increasing your temperature too quickly, it slows you down. I think this is what is going on with me. But for some reason it doesn't switch on until 25 minutes into my run... need to get that switch checked out.

So you wonder if my previous dehydration causes any of this core temperature rise? It seems it doesn't. (It's metabolic rate.) I'm still not sure exactly what to do about all of this. I think a move to the desert may be the solution (hooray! that's what I'm doing!). There's so much more information  about all this at sportsscientists.com, one of my favorite websites. So if you suffer like I do, check out their series on fatigue and heat.

Until New Mexico!