Trial by Fire

And Now for Something Completely Different

2010-04-10T19:58:00.000-05:00

There's a little race tomorrow. I've got my packet, my t-shirt and my number. They all say "marathon". But I'm running the half. Or rather, I'm running and walking the half. I ended up being three weeks out of the saddle with my injury. And, in order to keep from re-tearing my calf muscle/tendon, I had to ease back into running. I'm still only running in 5 min. intervals - though I'm sure I could do a bit more without hurting myself. So, I'll run some and walk some tomorrow and there will be a big fat DNF next to my name in the race results. So it goes. I couldn't change to the half-marathon because it was sold out. They told me I could go ahead and finish the half - and I would get a half-marathon medal and finish line amenities but I wouldn't have an official time. S'alright. I'm bummed, to be sure. But its only a race.

Its only a race. And life has been good. Very good, actually. Running and anything related to it bums me out a bit but there are bigger things than running. Much bigger things.

So, in honor of the Biggest Thing of all, its time for something completely different. Its totally out of left field for those who don't know me well - and for some that do. I don't talk about my faith much on this blog - the last thing I want to do is preach and alienate people. That's not my thing, really. But, I do want to preach. Or Somebody wants me to preach. The Call is a long, bizarre story so I'll leave that part out. The Result is that I dropped my application for Seminary in the mail today. You heard me. Seminary. Something Completely Different. But, maybe not that different, if you look at where my life has been headed - this strange and awesome trajectory that I only recently began to understand. Its out of my hands. Always has been - at least when its been at its best. When I try to take over, I mess things up but good.

So that's it. That's where I'm headed. I'm closing this blog down. Its been a source of support, joy, and accountability and I'm thankful for that. But, its time to move on. Its time to stop measuring myself by miles and inches and pounds. Its time to stop measuring myself, period. I thank you, gentle readers (all three of you ;) and I wish you the best of everything in all your journeys. May the Lord Bless you and Keep you in all your ways. Thanks. Peace Out.

Certifiable

2010-03-08T14:03:00.000-06:00

Last week, after coming close to killing myself during a 16 mile pain fest, I was advised by my boss (a triathlete) to seek counseling. At the time, I thought he was joking. Now, I'm not so sure.

Turns out pushing through the pain for 8 miles isn't such a great idea. The consequences this time around are an injured calf that refuses to heal. I've run twice since February 28. The first was a three miler that was relatively do-able - my calf was sore but didn't seem to warrant stopping. I was limping the next day. The second was yesterday's attempt at a "long run" - just one 4.5 mile loop of Queeny Park. I didn't get a half a mile.

So, there have been some tears. I'm not sure I'm out of the marathon. I have the number of a chiropractor that treats athletes and I'm reserving my final verdict until after a visit with her. I may try to run tomorrow morning - advice marathon vets? If I can't get back to a reasonable training schedule by next week, the full Mari is out. I can probably do the half - we'll see what the Doc says.

Even though I'm not officially out, I'm heartbroken. And a little relieved. After some time resting, its pretty clear to me that I was suffering from overtraining. True to form, I would never have admitted it until my body forced me to acknowledge reality. I've got to stop this ridiculous self-torture. When will I find the line between training and punishing? Looking at old posts, I think I had that line before. I suppose my all-consuming drive to "get back to my former self" after Noah was born has completely warped my judgment. Two stress fractures and now this whateveritis are evidence enough that I push myself too hard.

Balance is elusive.

And still . . . I long to finish what I've started - to cross the line and hang the medal. To put that silly 26.2 sticker on my car. Lord, please save me from myself.

In Case You Didn't Know Already . . .

2010-02-25T10:08:00.001-06:00

This week, I actually feel like I'm in training for a Marathon. I know. I've BEEN in training for a marathon but the miles are starting to look really big to me. Sunday's run was fifteen miles - in hilly, rocky, lovely Queeny Park. I surprised myself by finishing without the usual moment of despair that seems to happen with every long run.

And yesterday, in the middle of the week, I ran an 8 mile tempo run. 8 miles. As a mid-week tempo. That's when I really got it into my skull - and into the rest of me - its really happening. I just might pull this thing off. I might actually run 26.2 miles and live to tell about it. Wow.

Speaking of pulling this off, friends, the time is getting short. I am launching my full fledge Begging for Money campaign - starting here and extending to friends and family (be ready for the email, Ma), work and hopefully some public venues where I can wear my tshirt and ask strangers to give me there cash. Well not me but my buds at Wine To Water. Doc is in Haiti right now, bringing bio filters to the people of Haiti. As you probably know, they are in dire need of clean water over there right now. You can click on the video in my sidebar to get a glimpse of what they're doing over there. If you double click it, you can get the full screen. Maybe a super-techie out there (that does not mean you, spam robots!) can tell me how to make the video viewable in my sidebar. Its beyond my skills.

ANYWAY - the time is now friends. If you can and want to help out, even if its just $1.00 or so, please do. You can visit my fundraising page or go directly to Wine To Water. Tell your friends and family, tell your enemies. Please, help us out - this is an urgent but fixable problem. Love to all of you still reading and those of you who happened here by accident! Peace out for now.

Whine Fest

2010-02-17T20:06:00.000-06:00

Sheesh. Has it been that long since my last post? Wow.

I've been struggling with feeling lousy the last couple of weeks. Back and forth from being laid out on the couch and running/swimming/spinning and feeling great. I can't figure it out. I'm eating plenty. Sleeping as much as I can - which is probably not enough but, I'm trying. And still . . .

In the meantime, I've gotten a 14 miler in - 14 miles is a long way to run any way you look at it. Its far. But I gotter done. Last week was a recovery week which finished off with an "easy" ten mile run. The kicker is that it did feel easy. Kinda. As easy as ten miles can feel to a mere mortal like me. It went fast and fun as well as I was lucky enough to meet up with a dude training for an ultra and going about my pace - he slowed down for me and I sped up for him. It was fun to talk with someone who knew so much and was so passionate about running.

Yesterday, I did a tempo run at a little over six miles. This morning I swam. Tonight I feel like I got hit by a truck. So, I'm going to bed.

Just thought I'd check in - in case anyone's still out there. Coming Soon: The Final Push and a Plea for Money.

Peace out.

Sweet Spot

2010-01-31T20:43:00.000-06:00

It's been a long week, friends. Boy Genius has been having more migraines than usual (he started getting them in first grade, he's an intense kid) and woke up Monday morning feeling nauseas and exhausted - which is usually the start of the things. I kept him home from school and called the doc. They couldn't get him in until Wednesday - by which time he had been out of school Mon, Tues and part of Wed. His doctor wanted to do some blood work to rule out anything serious. Boy Genius - who is ten- has never had blood drawn (except by finger prick which, of course, is not what needed to be done). He was incredibly brave, talking to me about the book he was reading while they dug around in his arm, trying to find a vein. I, on the other hand,was trying desperately not to pass out. Thankfully, the blood work came back normal and he's feeling much better.

From Boy Genius' doc's office, I went to the Walgreens clinic because I was feeling pretty crappy. The nurse there - who was incredibly nice and took loads of time talking to me and examining me - diagnosed allergies and gave me some stuff which has pretty much nullified the symptoms.

The piece de resistance of children and doctors occured last night around 9:00. Noah had been sounding a little raspy when we put him to bed but seemed fine. Then, an hour or so after we put him down, he woke up crying and making a sound that no parent should hear from their child. If you've ever had a child with croup, you know what "strider" is and will probably never forget it. He just got over a case of croup that went to pneumonia in December so I knew what I was hearing. I tried the usual - a steamy bathroom, a trip outside - but nothing seemed to be helping. Hubby got him calmed down but, even asleep in his Daddy's arms, he was still making that "whooping" sound with each inhale. After some debate which shall remain confidential, we went to the emergency room. They promptly gave him a steroid breathing treatment which helped immensely and gave him some oral steroid as well which made him strangely hyper but much better. We were sent home at midnight.

Its tough to see your kids sick - especially when it seems to occur one after the other, insult following injury. When we go through these things, I thank God that we live in a time and are in a position where treatment is available and effective. I can't imagine what the mothers at the turn of the century - or those who are desperately poor in our time - went (go) through. To watch your child suffer is bad enough, to be able to do nothing to help must be unbearable.

This week, as most weeks do nowadays, culminated in my long run - a longer run than I've ever done (which is also normally the case these days). I chose to head out to a nice flat trail by the river to do my 12 miles and change. It was a beautiful day. I left a happy if slightly hoarse baby with a content if slightly tired Daddy. The sun was shining. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. I had some new tunes on my iPod and my legs were fresh from a rest week. After everything that went down this week, it was beyond luxurious to have a couple of hours to myself. The first hour was glorious. It was warm enough that I wasn't chilly but cool enough that I felt refreshed. There was a fresh coat of snow on the ground (I'm laughing at myself just now because I accidently typed snot instead of snow. brings about an entirely different image). The river was clear and reflected the sunshine. Lovely.

At an hour, my legs started hurting a little - not a lot. I found myself slowing down if I let my guard down which, ironically, was harder than keeping my normal "cruise" pace. Your instinct is to slow down because you're tired but it turns into a slog if you slow down too much - and it feels like more impact, at least to me. Going too slow will wear me out as quickly as going too fast. You have to find your sweet spot and stick with it. Natural enough at 6 or 8 or even 9 miles. But, you start getting closer to that ten mile mark and the body just wants to call it quits. By an hour and half into it, I was hurting for real. I had to fight myself to stay in the sweet spot - even though that remained the most comfortable pace to run and I didn't feel worn out. As I closed in on the two hour mark (my run was to be 2 hours and twenty min.), I was sure I couldn't go on. "I can't" my quitter brain would whine. "yes. you can. suck it up." Beast would growl. I had run to the end of the trail and was almost back to the start where I would have to turn around and run another twenty min. before doubling back again. I'm not gonna lie. Turning around was hard. I was praying again, asking for the right attitude, asking to find the joy, to move above the pain. But I turned. And I ran. Then, just a couple of minutes into my second lap, something happened. The cloud in my brain lifted. My legs felt a little lighter. A thought came like a bolt from somewhere deep - "I will not be defined by suffering." Yes! " I will be defined by perseverence, by my stubborn determination to keep on putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what." That's it, friends. That's it in a nutshell.

I finished the run. The remainder actually felt pretty good. It hurt. But it still felt pretty good. I hurt now. But I feel good. The baby's in the bath, dinner' s in my belly, the day is almost done. Everyone is well and another long run is in the books. These are the moments that define our life - if we let them be. If we resist our temptation to identify with the suffering and ignore the blessings. Only we can decide what we will be defined by. And its a choice that's not made once but a thousand times a day. God give me the strength to choose right more than I choose wrong. And the strength to keep at it - no matter what.

And the Verdict Is. . .

2010-01-19T06:28:00.003-06:00

Mostly, dumbass. Sure,there are elements of badass in Sunday's run: running in pain for an hour and twenty minutes, finishing the run with 3 twenty second pickups despite the pain, heck,just finishing the run. And there were many good things about the run - I had my nutrition absolutely dialed in. Though my legs were KILLING me, I never bonked and didn't even crash very hard afterwards,which is typical of me after a long run. I usually come home famished, eat everything I can get my hands on and pass out on the couch (or at least try to pass out on the couch, its hard to sleep with a nineteen month old jumping on you and yelling "Mommy!"). On Sunday, I was certainly hungry but a protein smoothie and some graham crackers did the trick. I took a short nap but didn't feel like I would die without it. So, the day of, I felt much better than I had. Yesterday, though, every muscle below my waist was screaming in unison: "YOU ARE A DUMBASS!". Thus, the verdict.

My legs feel pretty good today - tired but not 'injured' which I was a little afraid of. Training for something like this - especially something that is just beyond what you can reasonably accomplish - is always a dance on the fine line between overtraining and pushing yourself, between injury and soreness, like I said before, between badass and dumbass. I still don't know if I can do this. I'm confident after Sunday's run that its going to hurt like hell. As of right now, though, I can continue to press forward. I didn't hurt myself - not permanently - and, Praise All of Creation, this is a recovery week. I'm taking today totally off (which I should have done instead of swimming yesterday - dumbass!) and running easy tomorrow and Friday with an easy spin on the trainer on Thursday. Sunday's run will be about 6 miles which should ( I emphasize should) feel pretty easy after 11.

In other, much more important, news, the charity I'm running for, Wine to Water, has set up an emergency fund for Haiti. As you probably know, clean water is paramount over there right now. If you can spare anything, please visit their site and click on "Haiti Emergency Fund". Or, visit Red Cross's website or Unicef - whatever you feel called to do. From what I can see, Red Cross and Unicef are providing emergency supplies for immediate relief and organizations like Wine to Water will move in for long term solutions. Both are needed so, please, do whatever you are comfortable with. Also, Soles4Souls is collecting shoes for the victims of the earthquake (think about all the broken glass and metal on the street and how many of the survivors you see on television barefoot) so, if you have any old running (or other) shoes,visit their site and find a drop off location. I'm pretty sure many running stores are participating.

Disasters like this remind us how important it is to reach out and help those most in need - this earthquake was made many times worse by the extreme poverty the Haitian people endure. With that in mind, I'm going to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep asking people to give what they can. You do the same.

A Fine Line

2010-01-15T17:48:00.000-06:00

There's a fine line between badass and dumbass. That's been my lesson for the week.

First, the gym, Monday morning recovery swim - the pool was cold (well, not really, it wasn't HOT which meant that, to the rest of the gym, it was cold) at 74 degrees. I was in there enjoying the solitude and being able to swim without feeling like I'm sweating. Everyone who glanced in the pool and saw me going at it was thinking "dumbass".

Then, Tuesday, back at the gym for speedwork - the track was covered in ice and I actually wanted to haul a little. I was running late and was at the point that I needed to start running NOW in order to get the whole run in. I was rushing to get my winter stuff off when . . . the fire alarm went off. Wha??? So, me and the other two chics who were about to work out headed out to see what was up. Nobody on the gym floor was reacting. They all kept on running or doing the stair climber or lifting their weights. They didn't even look up. The lone employee (it was 5:30 in the morning) was running around trying to figure out what the hell the problem was. Luckily, I had the day off so I decided to come back for my full speedfest later when the daycare opened. Meanwhile, two ladies came from the back and announced they smelled smoke. The gym rats kept on with their workout. I'm thinking, what if the building were burning down? Dumbasses.

Later, I was back, hitting my pace for 6 x 800. The first one was hard. The second one felt great. The third and fourth were agony. The fifth felt fab. The sixth took everything I had. Now, Joe Friel says you should stop when you have one rep left in you. That would have been after the fifth. But I had a 6 x 800 on the books. So I kept going. When I got off the dreadmill, my legs were saying "DUMBASS!" However, after some stretching and a long nap with Noah, I felt human again - and I wasn't sore at all on Wednesday so. . . maybe I was a badass. Too soon to tell, I suspect.

I'm getting faster. Thursday's tempo run was right about my old 10k pace. Not my PR, but my avg. 9:00/mile 10k. Now, if I can just get my full run in on Sunday . . . which will it be - badass or dumbass. Tune in next time to find out.

The Run That Wasn't

2010-01-11T08:43:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day for my long run. The temperature had climbed into the mid 20s, still cold but, with the sun, it felt warm compared to the single digit highs we've been having. Snow covered the ground. The only thing foul was my mood. Hubby and I had a tug of war earlier in the morning over the rest of my season. My marathon training, along with the added responsibility of a toddler, has him a bit overwhelmed and my mention of more racing sent him reeling. Unfortunately, what I heard wasn't "less racing" it was "no more training." Now, we all know how important this is to me. How much I've missed it and what it means to me to be "back". So "no more training" didn't sit very well with me. Which, as you might guess, is an understatement. I suspect the struggle going on in my mind - the wrestling match between my desire to be reasonable and to be a good wife and mother and my (possibly compulsive) need for training, for "me time" - had something to do with what happened later.

After last week's effort, I had decided to just take it easy, do my alloted time and not worry about distance. With that intention, I headed for Chubb Trail - a nice, long trail that meanders through the woods and hills of West County, intersecting three State parks in the process. The plan was a 1:45 run, out and back. I had my Gatorade and some Sharkies (I thought I'd try something different since the gel went down so badly last week), a flask of water to round it out. I put on my Yak Traks and headed down the trail.

The first two miles or so are mostly downhill with some moderate but short inclines that lead you to the Meramec River Valley and three or more miles of flat, lovely running on soft dirt, sand and gravel (or, in yesterday's case, snow). I kept it real easy the first 10 min then realized I had to pee. Great. The trail wasn't crowded by any means but there were a number of cars in the parking lot which meant someone could come along at any time. In the summer, the underbrush on either side of the trail offers plenty of cover but, in the winter, you might as well drop trou in the middle of the trail. I was lucky, however, and found a little ravine to do my business in. So, relieved (hah!), I set out again. My heart rate hadn't even had the chance to come back down. It was going very well. I was inordinately thirsty but thought nothing of it - though I did try to take small sips to ration my fluids for the duration. I picked it up a little after my warm up and pit stop and was feeling fine. I came to the valley and was looking forward to winding around the creek and reveling in the beautiful, snow painted landscape. I was about thirty minutes into my run, keeping my heart rate in a modest range, cruising along. Then. I bonked. Hard. My legs turned to jello. I felt shaky, dizzy, a little disoriented. I stopped and tried walking, hoping I would get my bearings and be fine. I sipped Gatorade. I tried different combinations with my various layers, thinking maybe I was getting too hot. Finally, even though I was only thirty minutes in, I ate a few Sharkies. Then a few more. Shit, I was HUNGRY. So I ate the rest. I started to continue the loop but, then, my rational self reminded me that the last thing I wanted to do was to bonk hard more than five miles from my car in the middle of the woods at 23 degrees. So, I turned around, absolutely defeated. At first, all I could do was walk. Then, I was able to jog until I came upon a dude and his three unleashed black labs who took an unhealthy interest in me (the dogs, not the dude) and managed to head butt me breathless and knock off my fuel belt. Only after my meager rations were in the snow did the dude think to call off the dogs. Like it didn't occur to him before that the tired looking running chic might not want to entertain his boisterous dogs for five minutes before getting back to her car. You can tell I was still feeling kind of snarky which is probably a good sign - at least I had the energy to be in a crappy mood.

After a few minutes, the sharkies kicked in and I got back to the car without incident. I was far too tired in relation to the miles I did, so I know I did the right thing turning around but I still feel like I failed. It frightens me a little, brings up too many what ifs: what if I can't do this, what if I'm reaching too far, what if its over for me and this silly little obsession is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to hang onto my Youth (who is, as we speak, packing her things and surfing the net for greener pastures). I know I'm not old, by any means, but I can't be described as "youthful" anymore. I'm a grown up. So, what if grown ups aren't supposed to want to do things like this? I could list my insecurities for hours but wouldn't that be boring.

In the end, I made it home. I had a civil discussion with Hubby in which I calmly told him how important it was for me to do this and which he calmly told me that he would be supportive but that the amount of racing I was proposing was too much for him to stomach. Less racing I can deal with. Less training, even (after the marathon). Less is fine with me. None is not. So, I've come to some peace with all of that. Its an uneasy peace, but I'll take it.

I'm still puzzled about why I bonked so hard. I would love some advice from you veteran marathoners out there. I didn't eat a whole lot before hand - I couldn't finish my lunch two hours before, though I ate most of it. It wasn't really carb heavy - a salad and turkey on a whole wheat pocketless pita. Maybe I should eat more carbs just before my run. As I've mentioned, I'm trying to drop these last ten pounds so I've been cautious about my calories. I had my usual Zone bar about 15-30 min. before hand. I got enough sleep the night before. Could I be overtraining? Up to yesterday's run, I've felt pretty energetic though I feel a little worn out today. Was it my emotional turmoil? I know that can be just as exhausting as a workout sometimes. Anyway, input is appreciated.

Meanwhile, I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other. You do the same.

Pyro

2010-01-09T14:24:00.000-06:00

I got on my bike Thursday night. Just on the trainer in my laundry room, but still. Poor Pyro has been neglected, hanging forlornly from the ceiling. Her tires were flat. The brakes look a little iffy. She needs some attention.

Man, I'd almost forgotten how much I love that bike. And how much I fear her. Just putting some air in her tires made my pulse quicken and the butterflies flop around my stomach. See, she's the Beast in corporal form. I "feel" Beastie stir when I'm on my runs, "hear" her encouragement when I need it most or her low, rumbling growl when I consider staying in bed rather than hitting the track or the pool or the spin class. But Pyro is the Beast. I don't know why - maybe because the bike has always been the scariest, most challenging aspect of triathlon, maybe because Pyro is painted with fire - that's just the way it is in my mind. Beastie is this firey crouching thing - part animal, part machine. And when I'm in the saddle - even on the trainer - its like I'm riding the Beast - 90 miles an hour with my hair on fire. Its terrifying and exhilerating all at once. I've missed it.

But, I also remember . . . Pyro bites.

And so does the Beast.

She can be encouraging, empowering and faithful.

But get cocky, or careless, or fail to respect the danger that lies at the heart of her and you can end up on the pavement.

She doesn't put up with false bravado, ignorance of limitations or any general monkey business. That's one of the things I love most about her. It also intimidates the hell out of me. Damn, its good to be back.

Decorational Athlete

2010-01-05T20:56:00.001-06:00

There's this chic in my spin class. The first time I saw her, I was sure she was a triathlete. She just has that look - confident on the bike, disciplined, buff beyond belief. Then, the other day, I realized that I only see her lifting weights or spinning. I never see her run or swim. That doesn't mean anything, necessarily, but then, it occurred to me - maybe she's a decorational athlete. You know, a person who is serious about fitness, training and nutrition but for the singular purpose of how it makes them look. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with it - its just a value system that I've been trying to get away from. That the way you look is the primary goal to any endeavor.

When I was a teenager and a young woman, I didn't care if something was healthly, only that it wouldn't make me fat. I smoked, I ate crap just because it was "fat free" (shows you how much we knew back then), I exercised - but it was always about how it would make my legs look or my arms or my abs or my butt. Most women and many men are obsessed with these things. We live in a society which prizes appearance over nearly everything else. Beauty = power. Its exhausting. Because not all of us can be beautiful - at least by our narrow cultural standards. And those who are beautiful realize only too soon that beauty fades - at least the kind that is defined by youthfulness. I've met Boston Marathon runners that have gotten boob jobs, Ironmen who obsess about their body fat percentage, cyclists who worry what their thighs look like in a pair of jeans. And me. Before I got pregnant, I was hoping to lose yet another ten pounds so that I could get my body fat down and be lighter and, therefore, faster. Truth be told, the "faster" excuse was just a cloy for my own desire to be closer to the "cultural image" of beauty. Now, I wish I could just lose the last ten to get me back to where I was. And, next year, I'll probably be back worrying at the next ten pounds, right where I started.

When does it stop? One of the things I love about Crossfit is that it focuses on performance not appearance. If you can do the pullup - you win. Who cares what your back looks like while you do it. Racing is much the same. Though there are competitions within the ranks - silent, appraising competitions where each athlete compares his or her body to the one beside them - the bottom line is finishing time. Whoever makes it across the line first wins. They don't have a scale or calipers at the finish line to separate the buff from the average. It doesn't matter if you look like a winner. And for those of us in the back-middle of the pack, the ultimate test is how we run ( or swim or bike) compared with how we did it last time. Did we beat our record? Or did we feel better than we've ever felt or go farther than we've ever gone? Objective, comforting numbers.

Back in September, 2007, I found someone inside myself that I didn't know was there. She was strong, she was powerful - and those things made her beautiful. I began to find my legs attractive because of what they could do not how they looked. Sure, it was cool to see all those muscles but what was cooler was that they could carry me across a fifty mile bike ride or a ten mile run or an Oly distance tri. They could take me places I never thought I could go. I wish that feeling had been permanent, but, unfortunately, the old patterns creep in. I want to get back to that place where Power = Beauty, not the other way around. And power, friends, is out there if you're only willing to grab it. Let that be my New Year's Resolution - to strive to embrace my power and not my desire to be a knick knack. Let someone else be a decoration - I want to be a Phoenix.

Long Run

2010-01-03T20:45:00.000-06:00

Last week's long run was great. I felt fast, I felt fabulous, I barely got tired. My first trip out to Queeny Park, I did a loop in 50 min (as compared to my former 45 min avg. time) and was pretty happy with that. Last week, same loop, same effort, same heartrate - I did it in 47:30. I was thrilled. I was encouraged. I was cocky.

Nothing like a long run in 15 degrees to knock the pride out of a body. My hamstrings are particularly pride-free this evening. Today's long run was, in sharp comparison to last week, a suffer-fest.

Well, that's not ENTIRELY true. The first hour was actually pretty good. It was cold. Did I mention it was 15? That's pretty cold where I come from. But it was good. There were a few nasty patches of ice that slowed me down some, but I felt strong. My legs were a little sore from yesterday's one hour yoga session, but I was doing it. I finished the first loop in 48:30. A minute slower than last week but, you know, the ice. So, I was pretty confident that I could finish my scheduled hour and a half without a lot of trouble.

I started my second loop, made it up the hill of my nightmares without incident, finished sucking down a gel - which did not go down well, anybody else get heartburn on a run??? yuck - and completed my first hour with only thirty minutes to go. Then the wheels came off.

My legs started telling me there was just no way they could go another step. Total whiners. I tried ignoring them but, as they were doing most of the work, it was getting difficult. So I started making deals with myself. Get to the top of this hill. Get to the next turn in the trail. Walk up this little stretch and you can go again. Everytime I looked at my watch to see how long I had, it was only 30 sec. since the last time I'd looked. The bright side was that my heartrate went way down because I was hurting too much to go fast. Whine, whine, suffer and bitch. I wish I could say that I was thinking about the men women and children that I'm running for and the intolerable suffering that they have to deal with every day, but I wasn't. I was thinking of myself and my sad, out of shape body and how much I just wanted to stop running while at the same time I felt like I would just die if I stopped running. Then this morning's daily meditation popped into my head. I just started getting these from UCC's website (my church is affiliated with United Church of Christ) and the prayer at the bottom of this one struck me in particular:

I'm your child, Lord, while I run this race. And I don't want to run this race in vain. I'm your child, Lord, while I run this race. Amen.

So, that prayer started running through my head and that started helping. I've always half-joked that when a run was getting particularly difficult that I was "running with Jesus". Nothing like running with the Lord to make you feel like a big fat whiner... "but my leegggs hurt... wahhhhh". Anyway, after a half mile or so of that, I realized that I was picking it up again and my legs were feeling a little better. (To clarify, I do NOT think that God healed my sore muscles so that I could keep running, I think He's got better stuff to do) Then, according to my watch, it was time to start cooling down, so I slowed it down and felt WAAAY better. Then I came to a sign. I technically only had another five minutes or so left to run. But the sign said "2 miles" to the trailhead. Two miles to go and I would have made another loop - 9 miles total. My old long run. My back in the day Phoenix kicking some arse long run. So, I picked it up again. If the Lord had still been running with me, I'm sure He would have advised me against such a foolhardy decision. But, as it was just me and the Beast at that point, foolhardiness won the moment. I ran another fifteen minutes - 1:40 instead of 1:30. But I made it.

And I've been paying for it ever since. My brain stopped working as soon as I stopped running. Or maybe it had stopped working long before and I just didn't notice it because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. My legs didn't seem to know how to walk. And that heartburn really started telling me about it. So, I overdid it. Nothing new, really. Truth be told, it was kinda fun.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-02T23:12:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year, One and All! May you enjoy and relish the year ahead and experience each moment as though it was your first.

To ponder - A lesson in going after what you want and enjoying every moment once you get there:

Running for Water

2009-12-28T08:03:00.007-06:00

I have many ambitions. Some of them are silly - like my endless and impossible quest for a perfect butt. Some are improbable - like my deep and elusive desire to be a professional writer. But behind most of them is the underlying wish that my life have a purpose, that it make the world better somehow (the "perfect butt" quest does not qualify).

Up to now, my athletic pursuits have been for the singular purpose of enriching my own life - and, really, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. A stronger, fitter person is better in every other aspect of their lives and that, in itself, accomplishes a "higher purpose." But, now, I find I want my sweat to mean more than that. It began with Team Phoenix - an endeavor I hope I inspired but one that does better without me in the picture. I know that's vague, I'll get into the details another day. Suffice it to say that I was not the best Beast for the job. Now, I feel pulled to train for the marathon and I want that to have meaning too.

Last month, Hubby and I watched CNN Heroes and were struck by Doc Hendley, founder of Wine to Water, and his passion for what he was doing. Neither of us were aware that the "water problem" was this urgent or this far reaching: 1 billion people do not have access to clean water. 5 million die every year because of it. Lack of water kills more children that HIV/AIDS, war, you name it. Every 15 seconds a child dies from thirst or from water-related illness. The numbers are so astronomical your brain wants to reject them. But you cannot allow yourself to go numb because, both best and worst of all, this problem can be solved. Wells and water filters. Simple. Not even very costly. One organization suggests that 10 billion dollars would solve the world's water crises. That seems like a lot until you consider the cost of the Wall Street Bailout. Or how much Americans spend on Christmas, reportedly 45 billion dollars, every year. My goal here is not to induce guilt but to incite action. $500.00 drills a well. $100.00 provides a long lasting bio filter. These are numbers we can handle, if not individually, certainly collectively.

So, I'm running for water. If you're out there and so inclined, you can donate by clicking on the icon in my sidebar or by going directly to Wine to Water. If you do go there to donate, I would appreciate it if you let me know what you gave so that I can add it to my tally. My goal is to raise $5,000.00 - 100 wells or 500 filters. That's a lot of thirsty people saved. Whatever you can manage is appreciated - if you've only got a buck, know that it all adds up. If you can't spare anything, I would be grateful if you'd pass the message along.

Or . . . if you're so inspired that you want to do something too - join me! Create a page of your own (click on the "My Fundraising Page" icon in the sidebar, Firstgiving walks you through the process and it costs you nothing and takes very little time) and raise some funds with your next event.

No matter what you do, please keep these people in your prayers. If enough of us step up, they will know they haven't been forgotten.

Now I've Gone and Did It

2009-12-24T08:29:00.004-06:00

Well. I'm officially registered for the Go! St. Louis Marathon. I'm excited. Its exciting. I'm really, really, pumped and excited.

Okay, I'm terrified. Petrified. Holy sh!t, I've gone and did it. I'm in for an a$$ whoopin' for sure. I'm seriously going to attempt to run a distance that up and killed the first guy who tried it. Very frickin' smart.

Oh well. No going back now. I can always switch to the half if my training proves grossly inadequate. I've got a feeling though. Under the terror. Its a good one. The beast is growling - in a happy way. She wants to come out and play.

She's been a happy beastie the last couple of weeks. My runs up to now have been the slow, plodding, base building variety. Not enough to bring Phoenix out of hibernation. She might have opened an eye to look around, groggily mumbling, "Whaa.... we running? mmmm, no. Not really. Night." She made one appearance during a pitiful little 5k I ran a month or so ago. I was pushing it as hard as I could on the last mile and sure I couldn't hold on. In my mind, I searched for the beast... "You there, beastie?" "yeah. i'm here." "I don't think I can do this. I'm too out of shape. I'm going to slow down." "no. hold on. you can do this. look, you're almost there." "Okay." .... "You still there?" "i'm here. hold on." "Okay". On and on for a mile. It sucked to be moving so slow and huffing and puffing like I was hauling it. But I did hang on. So it was good.

Last Sunday though, my long run. That rocked. I went to Phoenix's old hunting ground to do an hour. As soon as I found myself on that trail, I had to start pulling on the bit to keep myself from taking off. After ten minutes warm up, I let it loose - trying to keep my heart rate in a somewhat reasonable range - and, friends, it felt fine. Not fine as in "no, really, I'm fine" but fine as in "that dude is FINE". It was FINE. I actually felt like I was moving. My legs had that old sproingy feeling. Beastie was out and awake and loving it. Every turn and hill of the trail felt like home.

It used to take me 45 min. to complete a loop of the trail at my long run pace. I figured it would take me at least the whole hour to get through it this time. I made it in 50 min. So, five min. slower - but, seriously, that's not bad for two years away. As I rounded the turn for the last mile, my legs were getting that "long run" feeling and I knew I'd be stopping for ice on the way home. Ice baths in winter suck. But it helped, so what am I complaining for.

My Tues. tempo run was more of the same, Beastie growling happily, me feeling like my old self. Its good to be on the way back.

Next post: Running for Water. Stay tuned.

Oh Yeah. Then, there's these guys.

2009-12-17T19:49:00.002-06:00

The Marathon Experiment

2009-12-17T17:02:00.002-06:00

Whew. Time to clear some cobwebs and do some writing, people. All my people. Well, me. And Hubby. And the robot spammers.

Its been a rough 18 mos as far as training goes. Twenty-five extra pounds that have been slooooowwwww in getting the hell out of dodge (10 lbs to go, as of this writing. come ON already.) Two stress fractures (one in the knee last March and one in my foot this summer). The swine flu. Countless nights of interrupted sleep. A thousand other excuses/good-enough-reasons. I worked it in where I could, whined a lot. Cried some. But, mostly. . . mostly, I've been enjoying life. Noah is a joy. Devin is a miracle of a big brother. Hubby is The Best Daddy Ever. Even when Noah runs to me as soon as Hubby comes home because he just loves Mommy best right now. Its all about the boobs and there's nothing Hubby can do about it. Still, he hangs in there and shows his patient love. The tables will turn before we know it, of this I'm sure.

Now, finally. Finally, finally, FINALLY - Noah is sleeping through the night. Through the night. THROUGH it. As in down at 8:30pm up at 6:45am. If you don't have children, you cannot appreciate the utter miracle that entails. And this means that I am sleeping through the night. Which further, and most importantly, means that it is no longer impossible to get out of bed at 4:30 am and . . . TRAIN. Yes, yes, yes . . . TRAIN, my people (me, hubby and robot spammers, but hey, they're my people and I love them). It some slow, silly, painfully non-athletic training just now. But it is what it is. Its running and swimming and spinning. I LOVE IT!!!

So, what have I done, one might ask (if one were a robot spammer or my husband - I don't ask, I just do)? I have, of course, gone and made a rash and bold and probably exceedingly stupid decision to train for The Big One. That Big Thing that I was supposed to be in training for when my little surprise came along and shook things up a little (a lot) - because life, people, is what happens when you're busy making other plans. At least that's what Lennon said. So, yeah. I'm going to try to run the St. Louis Marathon. I say "try" with all deliberateness because, though I have four and half (five if you count the two weeks I'm into it already) months to train, I'm really behind. My mileage is laughable and my speed - well, lets just say that there are some walkers that would absolutely smear me if I went out at my current "speed".

I'm going to try. Experiment, if you will. I've developed a plan that's a sort of hybrid of a plan I found based on time rather than mileage (for beginning marathoners - me) and the FIRST training plan that suggests running only three days a week with cross training on at least two other days. I like the FIRST method because it allows me to at least maintain the fitness I've worked on in the pool and in spin class (I have yet to get on the bike - that's a post for another, later day) and also allows me to try to avoid the dreaded stress fracture thingamabob that's cost me so much time this last year. I'm doing a tempo run, a speed workout and a long run (on dirt) every week with at least one swim, one spin and Crossfit.

So, we'll see. St. Louis allows me to switch to the half-marathon if I need to and I think that by March, I'll know if that is what needs to happen. In the meantime, I'm setting my sights on The Big One and waiting with baited breath to see if I can actually do it. I'm not sure if I can. That's what makes the Experiment interesting.

Stress. Fracture.

2009-03-23T12:08:00.003-05:00

WHAT?!?!?!

So, my knee has been hurting for awhile. For the most part, I was able to ignore it and just get on with it but it started getting worse so I heeded Hubby's insistence and went to see the Doc.

After describing my irritation (I refused to call it "pain" at that point), Doc uttered some scary stuff about it sounding like a torn meniscus and words like "surgery" "6-12 week recovery" and so on and so forth and then she ordered an MRI. The good news was, my meniscus looks great! The not so good is that my femur and tibia don't look so good. Its a stress fracture. Shucky darn.

On to the Orthopedist who gave me a hefty brace that makes me look like a cyborg and sentenced me to a month on the couch - interspersed with time in the pool and on the bike - no hills, no running, no walking. The June race is right out. I'm trying to be hopeful that I'll be able to get my run on in time for the Ballwin Tri - that's the race I did as my initiation into triathlon and it would be kind of poetic to make it my first race back.

In the meantime, my knee is broke. I swear it hurts more since they told me it was a fracture. Every time it twinges, I imagine my poor bones, grinding together, splintering. Not a very helpful visualization, I'm sure.

Feeling sorry for myself seems to be what I'm best at just now. Ah,well.

To celebrate, I spent some time in the pool this morning doing Tabata intervals. The pool feels good. No pain, no limp. I guess I'll get my swim on but good in the next few weeks. Wish me luck.

Tiny Miracles

2009-03-06T08:41:00.002-06:00

If any of you from my "past life" (i.e. Before Noah) are still out there, you may remember my Idea, namely a team to train, empower, and raise money for survivors of domestic violence. Its never left me.

Ironically, when I started back to work at the children's theatre in October, another woman who used to act with me "back in the day" started back again as well. Her "day job" is as a counselor for a local organization that helps women extricate themselves and heal from violent relationships. I told her my idea and she liked it so much she told her supervisor. Her supervisor was enthusiastic about the possibilities and sent me her contact information. I have a meeting with her at the end of this month.

Tri-Hubby is in telecommunications sales and met a woman across the river in Illinois who runs a similar organization. He told her about my idea. She was also intrigued and I have her contact info - I'm waiting until TH gets back to her about her telecommunications before I call her - I don't want my call to remind her that TH hasn't called her back yet ;)

How strange that two years after this Idea "came to me", the Universe seems to be aligning to make it happen.

In the meantime, I am still fighting the good fight and trying to get back in shape. I'm swimming, spinning, running, doing Yoga and Crossfit. It feels awesome! The June tri looms in the near future but I'm confident I can do it.

Its all good, friends, its all very very good.

In Case You Didn't Know . . .

2009-02-08T21:10:00.001-06:00

FORD IRONMAN WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP LOTTERY INFORMATION:

The 2009 Ironman Lottery Program officially opened Wednesday, October 1 at 12:00 p.m. EST. Athletes interested in earning a slot through the Ironman Lottery must apply by Saturday, February 28, 2009, with all winning entries being announced on Wednesday, April 15, 2009.

A vision of Ironman founder, John Collins, the Ironman Lottery began in 1983 as a way to provide athletes of all abilities the opportunity to qualify for the world’s most challenging endurance event. The Ironman Lottery awards 150 domestic, 50 international and 5 physically challenged slots that are chosen randomly from more than 7,000 lottery entries.
Athletes who are part of Ironman’s Passport Club receive member benefits such as an increased chance to win a lottery slot. The club, beginning domestically in 1990, is now open to athletes from around the globe.
Participants gain entry into the Ford Ironman World Championship one of three ways: by qualifying for a slot at one of more than twenty events held worldwide, by winning a slot through Ironman’s charitable eBay Auction or by being selected in the Ironman Lottery. Recognized as one of the most in-demand athletic events in the world, nearly 60,000 athletes vie for one of 1,800 coveted slots to the Ford Ironman World Championship, taking place in Kailua-Kona , Hawaii , each year.
For more information visit www.ironman.com/faq/lotteryfaq or the Lottery Registration page

All athlete-related inquiries can be directed to Lottery@ironman.com.

U.S. APPLICANTS
There will be 150 lottery slots available to the U.S. applicants. ONLY U.S. CITIZENS MAY APPLY. 100 names will be drawn from the Passport Club. 50 names will be drawn from the U.S applicants and any unselected Passport Club members. Lottery selections will be available on April 15, 2009 at 12:00pm EST on Ironman.com.

INTERNATIONAL ATHLETES
There are 50 lottery slots available to International applicants. CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES WILL NOT BE ENTERED. 25 names will be drawn from the Passport Club. 25 names will be drawn from the International Applicants and any unselected Passport Club members. Lottery selections will be available on April 15, 2009 at 12:00pm EST on Ironman.com.

US/INTERNATIONAL SELECTED ATHLETES
Athletes who are SELECTED through the Ironman Lottery must have completed an Ironman 70.3 or other long-distance event (1.2 Mile, 56 Mile + 13.1 Mile) or longer within one year of the 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship to validate his/her lottery slot. Lottery winners must complete a validating race before August 31, 2009 and all validating information should be E-mailed to Lottery@ironman.com by August 31, 2009. Failure to comply will result in forfeiture of the lottery slot.

PHYSICALLY CHALLENGED LOTTERY APPLICANTS
Five names will be drawn for the 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship from the total applicants applying in the following Physically Challenged categories.
The following defines the physically challenged divisions for the 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship Lottery.

DIVISIONSLower Extremity - This includes single below-the-knee amputees, in which a standard bicycle is used, and run with a prosthesis or crutches.
Wheelchair One - This division consists of single above-the-knee amputees who ride a standard bicycle, but use a racing chair on the run.
Wheelchair Two - This division consists of athletes who have double below-the-knee or a double above-the-knee amputation. These athletes ride a standard bicycle and use a racing chair on the run.
Upper Extremity - This is an athlete who has one arm amputated above or below the elbow, in which they will use a prosthesis on the bike.
Blind - This is for athletes who are legally blind, 20/200 with best corrected vision, requiring a handler throughout the race. They will use a tandem bike and will be tethered during the swim and the run.

Athletes are required to submit:
• Medical description of physical disability from primary care physician.
• A letter from his/her physician validating athlete’s fitness and ability to meet the physical demands of an Ironman event.
Upon review of information received all eligible athletes will be registered for the physically challenged lottery. Any application received with incomplete information will not be processed for the lottery draw. Any decision on whether or not an athlete meets the criteria for a specific division is at WTC’s sole discretion. All athletes chosen will need to complete an event that is 70.3 (1.2 mile, 56 mile, 13.1 mile) distance or greater within one year of the 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship.
For more information please E-mail Lottery@ironman.com

HAND CYCLE DIVISION ATHLETES
Physically challenged athletes who are paraplegic, quadriplegic or double above-the-knee amputees, and race using a handcranked cycle on the bike segment, and a racing chair for the run segment, will be able to compete for two male slots and one female slot at the Ironman 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake and two male slots and one female slot at Ironman 70.3 Antwerp. These slot winners will then compete in the 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship on October 10. Please contact Ironman at (727) 942-4767 or E-mail Lottery@ironman.com, for further information.

Smelling Like Pool and Other Training Pleasures

2009-01-29T12:51:00.003-06:00

I can't even tell you how great it feels to get in the pool again. It always feels like so much effort, but its always sooo worth it. I was surprised to find that I could swim 500 straight the third time I swam - so I'm in a better place than when I first started training to tri and could only swim 25 yards. At least in the swimming department, I'm in a better place. Running is a whole different story. My knees hate me, my lungs hate me . . . oh well. It feels good to be sore again.

I even got to get outside on my mountain bike a couple of weeks ago. They just finished a trail by the river near our house and I went exploring on it. Most of it is pothole riddled pavement but I think I can maneuver Pyro around the worst stuff. When the weather warms up, I suspect it will be a favorite ride for me.

Oh yeah, and I lost five pounds. Cool. Only twenty to go. . .

Starting Over . . .

2009-01-15T20:03:00.002-06:00

Its like 5 degrees outside. And I was out there. Training. Its the very start - the training of a newbie triathlete who, not so very long ago, was doing well to waddle her hugely pregnant body from one side of the neighborhood to the other. The training of a newbie triathlete who, until very very recently, hadn't slept for longer than two hours at a time for months and months. The training, in other words, of a person who, until a week and a half ago, was only slightly more active than a houseplant. That's my long, drawn out way of saying that I'm starting very very small. Today's "run" was only 15 minutes - with walking breaks every 2 1/2 min. My "long run" is only 20 min. Long swim also only 20. But I'm training.

There's a sprint triathlon near me on June 13th. I'm doing it. So is my sister. And Tri Hubby. Its going to be awesome.

And so, it begins. Again. I've got a long long way to go. But that's nothing new.

It was 5 degrees out there. And I ran. Because Thats. How. I. Roll.

Did I Mention . . .

2008-10-01T14:56:00.002-05:00

I'm acting again. The more I hoped and prayed for an opportunity to work part time, the more the road led to my old, nasty acting habit. It started with an offer to perform as a guest artist at my graduate alma mater - the lead in Dangerous Liasons. The pay was better than any other part time job I could do in the evenings and the opportunity to perform such an incredible role - and to open a new, spectacular theatre for the University - was too good to pass up. We open tomorrow. Hopefully, its like riding a bike.

Next week, I go back to the children's theatre I worked for when I walked away from the bizz two years ago. I'll be acting as well as doing administrative work 20 hours a week. I can bring Noah to the office and will be home in time to pick Boy Genius up from school. Perfect!

Funny how life works. Now, if I can just get back in the pool . . .

PS - Here's the Baby Picture

2008-09-02T13:25:00.001-05:00

He's a Cards Fan, naturally.

Run

2008-09-02T08:24:00.003-05:00

Many of my best journeys have started with a run. Certainly the road to my First Triathlon Ever. I started my pregnancy with a run, also - 1am, shortly after I saw that little plus sign and new what was coming, I went for a run to clear my head. Four months into my pregnancy, I had to stop running - or, rather, I chose to stop running to give my poor back a break. It was one of the few times I've let my body's whining win an argument.

This morning, for the first time since December, I set out on my old running route - the same one I ran that early morning a little less than a year ago - and I ran most of it. It hurt. It was hot. I had to take some walking breaks. But I got through it. I've been running a few weeks now - interspersed liberally with walking breaks - but I haven't ventured from the blocks around my little neighborhood, staying close to home and in my comfort zone. When the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., I knew it was time to break free.

My weight is still ridiculous. I haven't been this size for over eight years - not since the birth of my first son. Its tough to accept but it is what it is. I have a healthy baby and an abundant milk supply to show for it so, really, in the scheme of things, the size of my posterior (which is formidable to be sure) is not important. Still, its often the unimportant things that consume our attention and it bothers me. A lot. But, I can still run. It feels ungainly. Its harder than it was a year ago - by a longshot. But, I was out there this morning, putting one foot in front of the other.

I'm slightly appalled that I haven't seen any real progress on losing this baby weight. I've been working out - usually twice or more a day - for weeks. Its not budging. I'm a little stronger than I was but the road to my next race seems unthinkably long. I'm not sure what the lesson is this time.

Triathlon taught me to find a healthy balance of pride and humility - I began to understand just how much this body was capable of while being constantly reminded of my unavoidable humanness. Yes, I could climb those hills that looked impossible but, more often than I care to admit, I could also taste pavement when I was just tooling down the street. Yes, I could swim farther than I would have believed a year before, I could also find myself fighting panic on an open water swim just yards from the shore. Yes, I could run miles and trails that were a distant dream before, I could also choke on the dust of a mom pushing her baby in a stroller while, at the same time, I PRd for a 10k.

Pregnancy taught me to accept things beyond my control. I watched my fitness decline and my body grow. I tried to revel in the grandiose belly that always drew comment from strangers. I did revel in the stirrings of my growing baby and tried to be patient as his due date came and went and then became a distant memory. I rolled with the punches and accepted interventions I'd wanted to avoid and felt my last remnant of control slip away when labor became not only painful but dangerous. I finally learned the lesson and felt peace come over me when they wheeled me into the operating room. Finally, I got it. I wasn't in control but I had faith that the One that was had a plan. Not my will but Thine be done. And it turned out okay. Better than okay. So, though I'm sure I'll have some reviews and several pop quizzes, I feel that I've passed that course.

Now, what? What is it that I'm supposed to take away from this? Anything? I think maybe its perseverance. Its one thing to press on when you're getting faster, leaner, stronger. Its another to continue when you see no noticeable result. To continue simply for the sake of continuing. So, I'll keep going. And I'm going to keep writing - or start writing again and keep going. I need this. I need a record of where I've been and a goal post for where I'm going. I need to put one foot in front of the other and one word after another. Thanks for being patient with me. Thanks for your feedback even when I'd been away for months.

Now, please help to hold me accountable. I'm back. And I intend to stay.

N-n-n-now that that don't kill me will only make me stronger . . .

Noah's Finally Here!!!

2008-06-19T07:25:00.004-05:00

Warning - Detailed Birth Story, Possibly TMI - if you don't want the details, you can just look at the pictures.

It was a little too dramatic - even for my taste - but Noah has finally made his entrance! I tried sex, evening primrose oil, spicy food, walking, jogging, yoga squats, raspberry leaf tea and, finally, castor oil. All to no avail. We reluctantly agreed to an induction on Sunday, June 8, as he was not getting any smaller and I was beyond sick of being pregnant.

It started out great, I was progressing steadily and handling the contractions - with the help of my husband and my doula. We went au natural (except for the Pitocin) for 12 hours and I thought I was on top of it. Then, they turned the Pitocin up. I went from being on top of the contractions to being underneath them. When the nurse said "Tell us when you feel any pressure." I thought "Yes! I'm in transition. " But I was only four centimeters. So, I did what any self respecting bad ass triathlete would do. I went for the epidural. Well, first, I gave it another hour to see if I could get a handle on it, then I went for the epidural.

Again, things seemed to be progressing and at 2pm, Monday I was declared to be at 8 centimeters. Groovy, we thought, he'd be here in a couple of hours. But a couple of hours came and went and I was still 8. More troublesome, he wasn't moving any further down. Even more troublesome, I was running a fever and bleeding "more than normally". Worse still, his heart rate started to decelerate. There was light merconium when my water broke which, by itself, wasn't a big deal but, coupled with everything else, was cause for concern. We decided to bail and go for the C-section.

It was a good decision. He was born within 20 minutes of our decision and needed oxygen and three days in the NICU for inhaled merconium. It was scary but along every step of the way there was someone there to reassure us and support us. He is a strong little guy and we knew within 24 hours that he would be just fine.

He weighed in at a whopping 10 lbs 12 oz. He was 22 1/2 inches long and his head was 15 inches around. No wonder he wasn't dropping!!

He was Gulliver among the Lilliputans in the NICU. The parents of all the tiny preemies were looking at us like "What's HE doing here?"

Thankfully, by Thursday morning, he was released to my room.

And, Friday afternoon, we took him home with us. On his first visit to the pediatrician, he weighed in at 11lbs 3 oz. All's well that ends well, friends. And all is well.

I'm Still Here!!

2008-05-13T08:19:00.003-05:00

It seems ridiculous to even apologize for my absence - its been so long. What can I say? Circumstances have been changing so fast, its been hard to get my head around it. I was informed by my bosses on March 20th that March 31st would be my last day. Thanks for everything, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. Since then, I've been floating between the gestational bliss of simply chillin' and nesting and feeling completely useless and without purpose - a dead weight on my family's strained financial situation. Fortunately, the bliss is more frequent than the pity parties.

And my days for chillin' and basking in the sunshine are numbered, friends. My due date is two weeks from today. Yowza. My doctor is reluctant to "let" me go overdue as last weeks ultrasound indicated that our little guy is already well over eight pounds. Sure, those things are historically inaccurate but, as my first was a ten pounder, it seems to follow that this guy would not want to be outdone. So, I'm trying to gently encourage a timely arrival - Crunchy Mama does not want to throw down with the Medical Establishment over induction and other ugly Intervention type words. If May 27 comes and goes with no baby, I'll be getting more aggressive. Castor Oil doesn't appeal but it may just trump Pitocin. Fortunately for Hubby (or not fortunately, I guess you'd have to get his point of view on the subject) sex is an excellent natural induction technique. This late in the game, however, such methods do require a sense of humor. Any other suggestions are greatly appreciated. I've been trying to down as much red raspberry leaf tea as possible. Black and Blue Cohosh scare me as I've read they lead to thinning of the blood and I'm already anemic. Still, fair or not fair, I see Pitocin as my mortal enemy. I couldn't tell you why,exactly, I'm just stubborn, I guess.

With triathlon training season in full bloom, I can often be found gazing wistfully at cyclists in full kit and runners cruising down the sidewalk as I drive past, barely fitting behind the steering wheel. My time will come again. The jogging stroller (a B.O.B.!!) is in the garage at the ready. I plan on getting the car seat adapter for it - does anybody know if you can run with that? Otherwise, he'll have to be six months before I can run with him in the stroller. That seems interminably long. Still, Hubby is supportive and amazing with babies so, I'm sure I'll be running before the summer is over. Maybe just for a block at a time, but I'll be running. Mark. My. Words.

I hope everyone's season is going swimmingly. And bikingly. And runningly. I'll take some time from my nesting, chilling bliss to visit your blogs. Much love - and I'll keep you updated!

Living Vicariously

2008-03-27T10:05:00.002-05:00

Well, friends, it seems that two of our fellow bloggers are on the campaign trail and mighty close to making the cut. Help 'em out, the info is below. And, who knows, maybe one of these days it'll be you and they'll return the favor.

Peace.

MAKE IT 2 OUTTA 3 In a coordinated effort with other Tri-Bloggers I am supporting both Commodore and TriBoomer in their combined effort to make the top three vote getters of this month's EvoTri sponsorship. Both of them are equally capable of representing their fellow age groupers and I want them to make it to the final phone call on Saturday where they will each fight for the one position on the team available right now. If you are a reader of this website and have not voted for either one of these men, now vote for both of them and push them to the final round by following these instructions. Send two emails, one for each candidate, to Vote@Evotri.com In one email write in the Subject field: http://www.commonmansyndrome.com In the second email write in the Subject field: http://triboomer.blogspot.com The top three vote gathering candidates will advance to a round of interviews by members of Team EvoTri. Voting ends at 11:59 PM on Friday, March 28, 2008

Nostalgia

2008-03-05T11:13:00.003-06:00

I've finally had a moment to peruse some of your bad ass blogs and indulge in some vicarious living through your training - it hasn't had any effect on the enormity of my thighs (why, Why, WHY does the baby need weight on my ass? Can anybody tell me that?? Is it a balance thing, what?) it has definitely helped my morale. I had to stop running three months ago because my back just killed me. I'm tough but I'm not a martyr. I didn't post about it because it was too fresh, too painful. It still pretty much sucks, but there's a bigger, better picture I can appreciate now - and its living a squirming and blessed existence in my enormous belly! I swim every once in awhile but, sadly, my schedule, lack of cash flow and my incessant need for sleep tend to interfere with that being a regular thing. Also, its so much frickin work to get a swim suit on. Seriously, I think I burn more calories getting undressed, suited up and redressed than I do in the water. I've been walking whenever possible though this winter's frequent ice has made that a challenge. So, mostly, I veg out. I sleep. I rest. I read. I watch amazing numbers of Baby reality shows: Baby Story, Bringing Home Baby, The Baby Diaries. My husband thinks I'm nuts. I'm just trying to wrap my mind around the little bundle who's set to arrive in three months or so. And the Ironman worthy ordeal that will need to happen in order to get him here. I'm not afraid. Not even nervous, really. Yet. Its just somewhat incomprehensible at this time of my life. All our kids are older - my baby is eight and gangly, though he still tries to climb on my lap every once in awhile. And my belly has become his wooby. Everytime he sits or stands near me, he's trying to lift up my shirt so he can rub the belly. It reminds me of his nursing years - only with less nudity. I mean, I post my belly on the world wide web. I don't think I'd be up to exposing the "nummies" as they were so dubbed eight years ago. Though for the right amount of money . . . did I mention there was a cash flow problem?

ANYWAY - I've so enjoyed visiting you all and seeing what you are up to. I long for the days when I'll be able to revel in a brick that brings me to my knees - or at least to the nearest ice bath. For those long miles on the local trails. For being able to swim more than a couple hundred yards without stopping to catch my breath. Hell, I'd settle for going up the stairs without stopping to suck air!

So, here's to all of you - training and sweating and racing out there! For what its worth, you're keeping my dream alive, even as I lounge on my couch in my nest of a thousand pillows and watch my millionth episode of Baby Story - I know that I'll be back. And I know that my son will know that a brick isn't just something you build houses out of and that tri-ing is even better than trying. And that racing isn't something that only fast people do.

Yes We Can - Barack Obama Music Video

2008-02-05T11:17:00.001-06:00

VOTE!!!

Half Way There

2008-01-15T20:20:00.001-06:00

Those of you who know me from "before" may recognize this previous me - during T1 of my First and Only Oly Tri.

Then there was the first inkling of a belly - just a few short weeks after we found out that we were growing something up in 'dere.

Now, I'm at the half-way mark and looking considerably more, well, more.

So, yeah, Speedy is right. I've been doing a lot of griping, bitching and moaning. And I'm not sure that the above shot warrants all that griping, bitching and moaning. But, there it is. Only four months and change to go.

Drum Roll Please . . .

2008-01-09T10:04:00.000-06:00

OK, the results are in and its unanimous. You want to know.

So . . . .

Its a boy!

And, yeah, silly me who can't see the forest for the trees needs to add that everything looks perfect. He's not overly big - yet. All his fingers, all his toes, perfect heart, brain, spine . . . the miracle of life is confirmed yet again. How amazing is it that a whole person can form from a moment of passion and two little cells.

As for the name, its been decided - though Candlebox is a very good suggestion.

Next time - a belly shot. You. Will. Be. Amazed.

Times, They Are A'Changin'

2008-01-08T08:48:00.000-06:00

I begin training my replacement for work tomorrow. Talk about a reality check. To truly understand that I am replaceable, and being replaced - though this is what I asked for - is a scary thing. My plan is to work from home, initially taking in "overflow" from other smaller law firms. Eventually, I would like to write. I'm not sure the form that writing would take - I've considered copywriting, non-fiction, and fiction. I actually have the bones for at least two novels in my head and on paper. And there is my book idea on Heroes still in the very beginning stages. None of that is going to pay the bills right away, however. Its a year of new beginnings. And I'm asceart. But I've been asceart before and survived. Yet another reason to be thankful for last season and the plethora of lessons and triumphs that I took away from my dance with The Beast. And make no mistake about it, we WILL dance again. And again and again and again. My long term plan is Ironman when the baby in my belly goes into first grade. Until then, I will make the shorter distances my bones to chew on.

Meanwhile, my little bit is kicking away - becoming the reality for the Beast in my Belly metaphor of a thousand years ago. It seems like a thousand years ago, anyway. We had our ultrasound a few days ago. So I know. I know baby's name and parts and all that. So, as an informal poll, tell me - do you want to know? Should I keep it a secret to draw out the "suspense" or do you, like me, believe that suspense is false when somebody knows the answer? Let me know in the comments section as I don't have the def skills like Speed Racer to put one of those fancy poll type links in my blog. In that way, at least, I guess I'm old fashioned.

So, here we go, my sweet, gentle, bad ass readers. Another journey. Another adventure. Yeehaw!

God Bless Us Every One

2007-12-28T09:49:00.000-06:00

Its been a helluva year gentle readers. A helluva year. We've all had experiences we'll remember forever, we've all had a few regrets, a few triumphs and some outright flops. And we're all still here. That, in and of itself, is the greatest blessing - to still be around to read, to write, to gloat and to bitch about whatever this year has brought us. And, by some miracle - call it Internet, technology, divine providence, shared interest or sheer coincidence - we are together in a sense - together even though we're spread out across the planet, together cheering each other on through our triumphs and consoling each other through our flops and our regrets. That, most definitely, is another huge blessing.

If this year has brought you sorrow, I hope the next one finds you joyous. If this year has been a joyful one, I hope the next will bring even more of the same. I wish for all of us that we learn the things we need to learn, celebrate the things we need to celebrate, and mourn the things we need to mourn. I wish that we can find the strength to change the things that we must and the good sense to let those things that need to be left alone to their own devices. Most of all, I wish for all of us that we see the coming year as a blessed journey waiting to unfold and greet it with open arms, no matter what it may have in store for us.

God Bless Us Every One.

Calling All Heroes

2007-12-19T16:33:00.000-06:00

This year, I've learned some valuable lessons, not the least of which has been learning to become my own hero. In the process, I believe I have stumble upon my "mission" - to somehow empower others or, even better, to help them to empower themselves.

So, here's my idea: my story is ok, maybe some may find it inspirational. I've conquered, or have started to conquer, some significant demons. But its not enough. I want to share other stories - other women and men who have learned to become their own hero. My hope is that, by sharing these, we can light the way for others who are seeking, that, by telling about the paths that led us to where we are, we can somehow illuminate the path for somebody else. Every path is different though many lead to the same place - and they all start with that first step. So, I'd like to write (or compile) a book - a collection of stories about ordinary people who learned that, when it really comes down to it, the only one who can fight your monsters is you - and that you are exceptionally capable of doing so, you just have to realize it.

If you have a story to share - about yourself or someone else - please drop me an email. And, if you have any ideas about how to make this happen, how to get as many possible stories to sort through, how to put it all together, send me an email as well.

This could be a crazy nuts idea - or an idea that's already been done. It could lead nowhere. But I need to give it a shot. It seems like another first step in another amazing path that will lead me somewhere else I need to go.

Thanks to all of you who have been with me on this journey - and to any of you stumbling across this crazy person's blog just now. Its been an awesome ride and I'm ready for more. Bring it.

Learning Compassion

2007-12-12T13:57:00.000-06:00

I've always considered myself a compassionate person - except when it comes to how I treat myself. Training for a triathlon certainly taught me to respect myself and my body and what I'm capable of. It taught me to push myself when I thought I'd had enough and that my limits don't always end where I thought they did. These are good things. But it didn't really teach me to treat myself compassionately.

Pregnancy has given me a crash course in self-compassion. Its really a do or drop situation - you set compassionate limits on what you demand of yourself or you drop. You compassionately allow your body another hour or two of sleep or you drop. You compassionately allow yourself to slow down a little, quit watching the clock, quit counting miles or yards, even take an unplanned day off now and again - or, you guessed it, you drop. This stage of my journey is also teaching me to be flexible and creative when it comes to finding ways to get some activity in. After months of trying to force myself to adhere to my old 4:30 wake up call on swim days, occasionally succeeding, more often failing, I've finally accepted that my body needs what it needs and sleep is high on the list. Higher than a killer workout, apparently. However, I still feel better when I work out - its just no longer doable for it to be an either or situation - either sleep or exercise. I need both. So, I did some investigation and discovered that the YMCA that's just three minutes from my office has lap times every day during lunch and every day after work. The monthly membership fee is only about $10 more a month than swimming with my now-beloved masters group twice a week. And for that, I can swim as much as I want, lift weights, even get a run in on the treadmill when its icy outside or I just needed to sleep in that day. I'd say that's a win.

Today was my first lunch time swim and it went, well . . . swimmingly. The water is hot (85) but it keeps me from trying to hammer myself into the blue line at the bottom of the pool. There are only three lanes, but they're wide enough for three people - and I only had to share my lane with one person. I'm going to miss my masters buddies - but they'll be there when I come out on the other side of this adventure. I'm really looking forward to sleeping all the way to 6:30 on swim days without feeling guilty.

Another thing tris taught me - where there's a will, there's a way.

Human with a Belly

2007-12-11T16:30:00.001-06:00

So, now that the second trimester is in full swing (16 weeks and counting!), I'm starting to feel less like a semi-invalid pregnant person and more like a . . . well, a person. Just a person with a very big belly - a belly that seems to get bigger on a nightly basis. Its unbelievable. I know I grow big babies - things were the same when Boy Genius was cooking up in this fertile furnace of mine - so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but its still a shocker when I look down and expect to see a view of the ground or my feet, unimpeded, and there's this "hill" in the way. Its beyond a bump now but less than a beach ball - I can still see the ground and my feet but I'm counting the days that this will still be possible.

Anyway, beyond the belly issue, I feel pretty darn good. My appetite and my energy have returned - my appetite more than my energy but I expect that I won't have my "pre-preggo" level of energy until months after this little one has made his/her entrance into the world. And, this morning, after a week of no back pain, I ran. Ahhhh. How wonderful it is to run. No matter the pace - and thank you for calling me on that nasty "slow" label, I need to follow my own advice and retire that word - running feels good. Breathing hard, sweating, moving - that feels fabulous and I can't seem to duplicate it walking. Walking is nice. Its medatative, gentle and invigorating. But I can't seem to really work up a serious, base layer soaking sweat with walking - especially in the cooler weather. And I just don't breathe as hard - and, call me crazy but breathing hard feels good! I'm not talking gasping or struggling for air but that lung enlisting, I must be alive, oxygen blasting kind of breathing. I love that. It makes me feel . . . human. There's that word again.

Of course, my back is a little "twingy" today. But, for now, I'm blaming it on Sunday's drywall ripping fest. No, Hubby and I didn't get into a fight. We're remodeling the baby's room - or what used to be a "playroom" (read pile of every toy imaginable obstructing any view of floor or wall) and will be the baby's room. It needs a major rehaul. Ugly shelves, gone. Nasty "wood" paneling, gone. What somebody may have once mistaken for carpet, gone. Drywall, gone. The demolition part was fun. Now somebody has to put it back together. I may be out of the country for that one.

Waylaid

2007-12-04T13:44:00.000-06:00

I've been unable to work out for a full week - a fast which I was finally able to break with a walk this morning. My belly has nearly instantly popped from the "Is she or isn't she" stage to full blown "When are you due?" - and I think my back has suffered from this rapid change in mass. It was so bad, I couldn't sit, walk, stand or lie down last week. Or, I could, but all of them hurt. A lot. So running was right out. And swimming seemed agony. So, I tried to rest as best I could and hoped for a recovery. So far so good.

Being laid up is hard stuff for an active person - rather you are training for an Ironman, your first Olympic, or a natural childbirth, its no fun sitting around and waiting to get better. It makes the common problem of "lack of motivation" seem ridiculously obsolete. You would do anything to get out the door and you can't understand why anyone would have a hard time getting themselves off the couch - despite the fact that you have suffered that exact ailment more than once. The good thing about the ordeal is it does seem to banish the "motivation blahs" for a time. I'm sure they'll come back with my desire to get more sleep but, for now, I'm thankful to be up and out again. Next week, I'll start running again, knock on wood.

Sometimes you've gotta go . . .

2007-11-20T10:12:00.000-06:00

where you can kick a little booty.

Yesterday morning, as often occurs, my alarm rang far to early. I rolled over and declared myself unfit for rising - as, also, often occurs of late. Consequently, I missed my swim - again, something that has often occurred. This time, however, I decided to do something about it so, after dinner, Hubby and I headed for my old chlorine haunt, the rec center pool.

Almost exactly a year ago, we headed to this same pool to see what I could do in the water. Though I could swim fine, I'd never done it for exercise and certainly never tried to swim freestyle - or any style for that matter. The only stroke I knew how to do was breast stroke. That day, I got in the pool, knocked out 25 yards and clung to the wall, gasping for air. So much for my runner's lungs. As you now know, however, I kept at it, kept plugging until I could swim 50 then 100 then 500 then 1000 until I could comfortably swim a mile or more without stopping.

What a difference a year makes. Back then, I felt so out of place, watching in awe as swimmers in other lanes went lap after lap with no stopping. Old people, young people, men, women and kids - they could all kick my butt. Last night, things were different.

I walked in, fancy schmancy swim bag in tow and found an empty lane. The swimmers on either side stopped and looked at my bulging confident form with wide eyes. Even the life guards gave me a second glance. I was pregnant and I knew what I was doing. I was toting toys, for goodness sake - fins, pull buoy, goggles and Big Shark cap. They were in the presence of a pregalete.

So, I got into the lukewarm water and stretched myself out for a swim. I lapped the lady next to me until she finally got out. Then, I lapped the dude that replaced her. It was a good feeling - especially in my current, slowed down state. When I swim with the Masters Group, I am routinely served a big rich piece of humble pie. And that's a good thing usually, only occasionally causes nausea, doesn't seem to be affecting my slow weight gain - but sometimes, sometimes, a person, especially a pregnant person, needs a little boost of ego, a little encouragement, a little affirmation that, hey, you ain't doin' so bad, sistah.

I'm a slow swimmer and a slow runner, always have been. I'm even slower now. But its nice every once in awhile to see how I compare with the "average" person (or at least the average person actually making an effort to exercise which, really, isn't very average at all) rather than with the super crazy, kick ass athletes. Humble pie is good for you in moderation, but you can't really live off it.

Crunchy Mama

2007-11-15T15:40:00.000-06:00

Its funny, motherhood, especially early motherhood (including pregnancy) seems to pull me back to my crunchy granola roots. My parents were far from being hippies but my mom strove for natural childbirth with all her pregnancies and breastfed all of us at a time when bottle feeding was "what people did" and both my folks ran a ski shop in Durango, Colorado, routinely employing long haired ski bums for whom bathing was optional. I had several tie dyed shirts. So, I suppose I come by it honestly. I didn't come into my own as a "Granola", however, until college in a small mountain town in North Carolina. There, theatre people were pretty much one with the hippy types and the attitude and way of life resonated with me. My best friend and I referred to ourselves as hippies with jobs.

Still, in mainstream society - particularly working in a law office - its easy to drift away from the scent of patchouli and the belief that Mother Earth truly has all we need. When I was pregnant with Boy Genius, I was immersed in peace, love, and the joys of natural motherhood. I was determined to follow in my mother's footsteps with a natural birth (I went for the meds after 18 hours of going it alone) and a breastfed baby (my son has never tasted formula and enjoyed mother's milk until he was two). Once he was born, I attended La Leche League meetings monthly, jokingly referred to myself as the Nazi of Breastfeeding (JOKINGLY - I really have no negative judgments on women who choose to bottle feed. If they want to malnourish their babies, that's their business ;) KIDDING!), and fed myself and my family a diet of whole foods. We even did cloth diapers after B.G. got a terrible diaper rash. Oh, and he spent most of his first year in my arms or in a sling. I was a crunchy mama. When Boy Genius headed to daycare at three and I headed back to work, I started to drift away from my hippie sensibilities. When I found a full time job two years ago and stopped doing theatre, I thought the transformation was complete. I still prefer the woods to a spa, but I thought I was over the tie dye years.

Then, the now legendary little pink plus sign. And, suddenly, I find myself longing for the smell of patchouli. I'm taking a Dancing for Birth class - and found myself envious last night when the other preggo in the class told me she was having a Home Birth. Not to be outdone, I'm speaking to my doula about the possibility of a water birth - in the hospital, I'm too much of a worry wort to be able to birth at home. So, here I am again - crunchy. I've pretty much determined to go cloth all the way this time - better for baby butts and the environment. And, of course, unless somebody cuts off my breasts, I'm nursing. Absolutely crunchy. Funny what motherhood does to a perfectly well adjusted professional. I guess its time to start shopping for tie dye - so you think they have tie dye trisuits?

For Claire

2007-11-13T09:41:00.000-06:00

OK, ok, you're right. I take too long. It seems that things come in spurts for me lately - energy, exercise, inspiration, the ability to eat what's put in front of me without feeling the need to gag - stuff like that. So, I'll get a spurt and go nuts then go into hibernation for a bit. Obviously, I've been hibernating.

Hibernation mode totally sucks in the workout department - my body just begs for sleep and, if there's one thing I've learned in the last couple of months, its that listening to my body is not optional during pregnancy. My Drill Sergeant Beast has been sent to her cave for a long winters nap - but she still rolls over in her sleep on mornings like this when the alarm goes off and, instead of getting out of bed and putting on my running clothes, I roll over and set it for an hour later. Beast growls quietly in her den when I do that, imparting the tiniest bit of guilt to usher me back into slumber. But, the body rules right now and I have to trust its wisdom - it really gives me no choice. When my body rebels now, I end up on the floor, or nearly - there's just no arguing.

As for the writing - well, there's times when I just don't feel like I have it in me. At those times, it seems easier to close my eyes when I get a break at work, or peruse a collection of birth stories online, or daydream about what life with the baby will be like. Its not that you guys aren't important to me - you are - its just that, when I'm in "hibernation", it hurts a little to be reminded of where I was just a short time ago. Its hard to see what everyone else is doing and planning, races, training, goals, etc. So, when I'm away for awhile, I hope you understand that I'm just cocooning for a bit, gathering the strength to come back and visit this other life - the one that waits for me at the other end of childbirth, the one I left behind for awhile to complete this important, cosmic job before me.

Embracing the Miracle

2007-11-02T09:29:00.000-05:00

I've been struggling, sometimes succeeding, with making peace with this new body. Your encouragement has been incredibly helpful and I thank you for that! Still, though, so often I feel as though my body is betraying me - committing mutiny and usurping any plans I may have had for it. It occurred to me last night, though, that my body is not betraying me at all but offering one of the greatest gifts I could receive. Duh, you say, of course! But, I'm not always the sharpest pencil in the box. It takes me awhile. And the nature of this pregnancy, the surprise that it was, did not allow me to prepare for the changes that would come.

It took me (and Boy Genius' dad - as much as I hate to admit it now, I did have some help) a year and a half to conceive my son. It was heart breaking at times, month after month of being disappointed, but it removed almost all apprehension about the upheaval that would occur when that little plus sign finally made its appearance. Admittedly, I still had a moment of "Oh, shit!" when that first test came back positive. "Now I've done it!" I was suddenly responsible for another human being - and felt completely unprepared. But the pregnant thing was absolutely welcome - something I had longed for for ages - and so I sailed through the weight gain and the discomforts with minimal trauma.

I was younger then, too, though not as active. Still, my younger body dealt with the shifts a little more smoothly, I think. I'm pretty sure my back wasn't killing me at 11 weeks as it is now. And I actually lost weight in the first trimester due to morning sickness - so the scale wasn't climbing until my belly was "out to there" and that made it seem a little easier to deal with. Also, I pretty much hated my body when I got pregnant -sad, true, but at least I wasn't mourning the loss of a physique I had worked hard to attain. Not that my body was "all that" before this little peanut came knocking, but it was certainly in a condition I felt proud of. I was aware of my imperfections but I was still pleased with the overall state of the union. And all that is VERY superficial - except when you consider that I've spent much of my adult life at odds with what my body was, thinking I was "fat" when I clearly wasn't, sitting on the couch and eating when I clearly needed to move, being critical of every dimple, every pooch. So, the feeling of satisfaction I was beginning to foster this summer was a welcome respite from a life of body hatred. And now this.

I think I have the wisdom now to understand that this is yet another lesson in self acceptance and in embracing the amazing things my body is capable of. Just like grade school, though, I tend to resist new lessons, wishing that the last one I learned would be "enough". Truly learning can be a painful process. Yet, here I am.

And I would be lying through my teeth if I said I didn't secretly wish I could have another baby. I had tried to make peace and accept the fact that my childbearing days were over but the emptiness was there. The silent wish that I could do it over. Sometimes our whispered prayers, the ones we don't know we're saying, are our most fervent. And, this time, my most fervent, secret prayer was answered. It would be blasphemy to deny my gratitude. So, I'm straddling the conflicting emotions of overwhelming thankfulness and underlying resentment. I've only gained five pounds, but the beginning muffin top and additions to my hips make me cringe. Then, I see the first picture of my baby, posted on the refrigerator and I catch my breath. My baby. And, for the moment at least, I embrace the miracle and let go of my anxiety. Something I've never dreamed possible is coming true - and I know from experience that that is always a good thing.

Trick or Treat

2007-10-28T15:54:00.001-05:00

Hubby and I went to a Halloween party last night dressed as many taxpayers' worst nightmare. Who says you have to be a monster to be scary?

Oh, and for the record, in Missouri a "Hoosier" is not someone who lives in Indiana but rather one who dwells in the less sophisticated areas of the state. Also refers to the type of people who often need DNA testing to determine the timeless question: "Who's your daddy?"

End of an Era

2007-10-25T12:12:00.001-05:00

Its really starting to hit me that Boy Genius won't be my only child anymore. Of course, I was intellectually aware of this as soon as that little pink plus sign appeared at 1:00 a.m. on September 18th. But, now that the initial shock and excitement have mellowed, that awareness is sinking into my gut.

From the moment I was pregnant with Boy Genius, and especially since I first saw him on that ultrasound screen, kicking his little legs, showing off his boyhood for everyone in the room, there has been an indescribable bond. I know it is not unique to him and me - most parents experience the same with their children, I'm sure. But, we are a world unto ourselves - mother and son - family of two. I'm sure his father felt outside of our tiny circle when we were married - and I imagine Hubby feels like an outsider at times, as I do with him and his two children. And now, our tiny circle is expanding. This isn't a bad thing at all, but it makes me sad - for him and for myself. Its the end of what we've known and the beginning of something unknown.

He feels it too. Just last night he was mourning that I wouldn't be available to just him anymore. When I promised that it was very important to me to continue to spend time alone with him, even after the baby is born, even in the first few months, he said "Don't promise that now because you'll regret it later when you can't keep it." It broke my heart that he had so little faith in my love for him. And I resented the little peanut, if only for a second, for coming between me and my boy. My special boy, my little man, my only. I do have faith that all of this will prove to be a good thing, I do. But it doesn't make it easy to say goodbye to our circle of two.

Pregalete

2007-10-24T12:16:00.000-05:00

This morning, after my swim (2700 - not too shabby), I was encouraged by a comment from one of my fellow swimmers. She's really a much better swimmer than me and yet, when we were talking about running and other athletic endeavors she made the comment that "Hanging out with you guys, the athletes, makes me feel like such a slacker." Wha? She's grouping me with the athletes? Lemme say there are some serious athletes in that bunch - chics that don't just win their age group but the whole frickin' race. Chics with 0% body fat and muscles that rival any beefcake. I've never really put myself in that league (mostly because - well - I'm not). But it was cool to hear that someone considers me an athlete. Especially in my current state. It gives me hope that my body and fitness will return someday. But, right now, it is different. I'm still working it, but things have changed. I'm not the "athlete" that I became such a short time ago. I'm a pregnant athlete - a pregalete. And that's a pretty cool thing to be. Even if chics on the trail give me funny looks because I'm going so slow. Maybe I should do what No Wetsuit Girl's friend did and say "Oh yeah, well I'm pregnant." to every person who looks at me funny. Or maybe I should just wait a couple more weeks (hours) and my belly will make the announcement for me. Right now, it could be mistaken for a beer gut, but that won't be so for long. I'll just keep truckin' in Pregalete style and see where I end up. Next stop: Mommylete.

Its All Good!

2007-10-22T13:44:00.000-05:00

First OB appointment today went very well. I think I'm really going to like this OB - she's got three kids of her own, is very approachable, has a great sense of humor and is very supportive of me staying active throughout the pregnancy.

We got to see a picture of our little peanut - heartbeat going strong and measuring right at 9 weeks so everything looks perfect. I was also very happy to hear that the risk of miscarriage after 9 weeks is pretty low so, as my doc said, I'm over the hump. So, its really happening, people - not that I've had my doubts but it definitely seems a bit more real after seeing that little heart fluttering on the monitor.

Yesterday, my friend Linda and I got together to go for a nice hike on Taum Sauk "Mountain", the highest point in Missouri. We had beautiful weather and some nice fall color - and three years faded away like nothing as soon as we saw each other. Friendship is a beautiful thing.

Speaking of friendship - thanks for sticking with me through this about face and the adventure that is just beginning. You guys are just the best - supporting me through my first season of tri and now this. So, anyway, I 'preciate it! Let the "off-season" begin!

I'm Still Here!

2007-10-18T15:04:00.000-05:00

First of all, I'm sorry for my inactivity here in blogland. Many, many excuses, most of them uninteresting. The main thing is, I guess, that I started this blog as a "tri blog" and, though I'm still swimming and running (and occasionally getting on my bike), "tri-ing" seems far, far in the distance right now. Especially as my current pace - on the road or in the water - resembles one more likely to be found in the Senior Olympics - in the stands - than at any self-respecting triathlon. Honestly, I've seen people toting oxygen and using a walker move faster. So, that's been a little . . . how shall we say. . . detrimental to my self esteem? A lady gave me a look during my long run on Saturday with Hubby and I said to him "See, people are starting to notice I'm pregnant - I'm getting the belly looks." I was thinking I'd graduated to the "bad ass pregnant chic" who's out there running. "No," Hubby graciously corrected me,"I think she was just looking at you because you're obviously into running with your fuel belt and your tri top but you're running so slow, so she was wondering what was up with that." "oh." "right." So, I'm a little worried I don't have much to offer anymore but complaints about how sucky the first trimester is or tips on how not to get run over by the faster crowd who can't even get out "on your left" before they've overtaken you. Its a new kind of adventure this "prego" thing. I've done it before, but not quite the same way - I was lucky to peel my pregnant a$$ off the couch to get another helping of Macho Nachos back then, much less run 4 miles in the dark. And that seems like a really long time ago. Really long time. So, its kind of like I'm starting over - sailing into uncharted waters.

I had an epiphany in the pool yesterday. I was bemoaning my slowness (what else is new?) when it occurred to me how good the water felt. And it hit me - this time is not about goals or improvements or times or miles or yards. Its about moving - as much as I can for as long as I can - just keep moving. And in that regard, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'll add another "goal" to that - just keep writing. And if you want to keep reading, that's just glorious with me. Your friendship and support has meant a lot to me and it will continue to. I promise not to leave you in the dark for too long, anymore. And to read more of those fabulous blogs in my sidebar!

Peace out, friends.

Peace

2007-10-10T15:45:00.000-05:00

This morning, in the pool, I made peace with my body and where its at right now. Coincidentally, or not, this has led to a chain reaction of happy goodness and one of my best days ever.

From the beginning:

Last night - Tri-Hubby shows me the back cover of The Conservationist. On it is a picture of best friend whom I haven't spoken with in 3 and a half years (does that make her my ex-best friend). She has adopted a section of the Blair Creek Trail, the trail Tri-Hubby and I hiked last month for our anniversary - the trail where I first suspected that I might be "with child". What a weird coincidence. I silently hope she is doing well and, once again, regret parting ways with her.

Alarm rings at 4:20a.m. Ugh. Nibble some cereal, set the timer for 10 min. and rest some more - all per "manage morning sickness" instructions.

4:30 a.m.- out of bed. Tri-Hubby is getting over a bug and opts to sleep in this morning. I go upstairs and check my email. Unbelievably, there is an email from my best friend. Its not to me, but to an email group we both belong to - but it has her email on it. I send her a quick note about the magazine without much expectation of hearing back from her - its been so long, so much water under that bridge. I get my shtuff together and head out the door.

5:00 a.m. - in the pool. The workout today is a series of long intervals - 300s and 400s. I've already decided that, after Friday and the pity fest that followed that swim, I will take it easy - no sprints, no pushing. The long sets allow me to find my rhythm, enjoy the water, and daydream about what life will be like when the baby comes, resuming "training" again and what it might be like next fall, competing in the Lake St. Louis Sprint. These dreams keep me content to coast and keep my heart rate steady. I get in 2900 yds and leave the pool feeling a bit tired but refreshed.

7:00 a.m. - back home. I'm actually able to ingest a cup of coffee. Caffeine is not my best friend right now but a little kick is really helpful - and has been impossible to stomach since last week. I take my little cup of joe as a good sign that I just might feel good today.

9:00 a.m - work - I open my email and find an email from my best friend. She is not my ex-best friend. She is happy that I emailed her as she's been thinking about me but has lost my email address. To top it off, she's in love and doing fabulously. We agree to speak this evening - too much water under that bridge to cover in an email. I find myself leaking tears of joy. I have missed her so very much.

The rest of the day - Reprieve from morning sickness, actual tangible energy and finally a peace that my body has a job to do. I am not a lump, I am not a wuss, my body will not be "destroyed". I am grateful that I have the fitness base that I do to get me through the endurance event that is pregnancy. I am grateful for this day. I am grateful for everything. Ahh. That feels so good.

Peace.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

2007-10-05T09:12:00.000-05:00

Who is this person taking over my previously capable body? What has she done with the Beast? Most importantly - will I ever be normal again?

This morning, in the pool, I felt like I'd been sucked into a slow motion machine - no matter what I did to try and propel my body forward, I seemed to be stuck in this maddeningly slow trajectory. I was only able to log 2500 yds and still got out of the pool feeling like someone sucked my energy out with a straw. I'm still in that mode - despite a 45 min. nap post swim.

My drive is diminishing - if not out and out gone. My body is expanding - and its only been six weeks! I'm feeling sorry for myself - despite my underlying gratefulness for all of my unwarranted blessings.

I was 200 lbs when I went into labor with Boy Genius. That was an unbearable number to see on the scale - baby or no baby. I'm terrified that the same will happen this time, despite the unarguable fact that I am in MUCH better shape (like 100% better) than I was when I was pregnant with BG, despite the fact that I'm vigilant about what I eat and how much (usually. there's still some chocolate going on, people, I'm only human!) - I fear that this pregnancy will be like a landslide, piling uncontrollably onto my body until I'm unrecognizable as my former self. Kind of a stupid thing to be "terrified" of, really, considering all the real threats in this world, but there it is, nonetheless.

Sorry for the rant but I'm just at a total loss. I'd forgotten what a roller coaster the first trimester is. The last month and its unbelievable girth was really all that stuck in my mind. By the time my due date came and went I had come to believe that there was no baby - everyone had been lying to me and I had just gotten incredibly fat. Imagine the shock and awe that ensued when BG made his 10 lb entrance into the world. I'm sure it will be a similar adventure with this little bit. There's just so much that's unknown, its kind of scary. Imagine, big, bad, brave me trembling with fear at the thought of a tiny little baby. Stranger things have happened friends, stranger things indeed.

Before and After

2007-10-01T20:02:00.000-05:00

Before

After

I'm just sayin.

Its Not Easy Being Green.

2007-10-01T09:43:00.000-05:00

Oy. Well, up to now, I figured I was dodging the whole "morning sickness" gig. I credited my fitness, my regular exercise and my healthy diet. Silly me.

Last night, around 1:00 a.m., it reared its ugly, nauseous head. So far, it seems to be like my first pregnancy - nearly constant nausea but no actual - um - puking. Sorry. There's no delicate way to say it.

So, today, I'm exhausted, grumpy and ill. I skipped my swim this morning - when the alarm went of at 4:20 a.m., I just couldn't do it. I know. Wuss.

I'm running tomorrow, hell or high water. Running has kept me feeling "normal", even though I have to slow down ridiculously. At least I'm showing a bit so I have a visible excuse for running like a 200 year old tortoise (well, actually, I'm showing a lot. Twins and Triplets are words I've heard quite a bit the last couple of weeks - I'm not "supposed" to be showing at all. I'll take a picture. I'm sure you'll love me for it.) .

We went out for a bike ride yesterday morning - TriHubby's bike was finally done - they had to order some parts and move a few mountains to get it to fit him properly - and we wanted to take the new tribike couple out for a spin. Unfortunately, when we arrived, Pyro's back tire had burst. Apparently, we had it hanging too close to the exhaust and it kind of melted the tire. Damn Newbies. We just can't seem to get anything right!

So, that was total suckage, but I did get a nice walk in while TriHubby rode Teacher (more on that name later) back and forth. He had the clipless pedals instantly - I was jealous - and the issue of him "trying" to keep up with me is now obviously over. He was flying!!! I felt so proud of him as I watched him zoom away - he's going to really kick some ass, lemme tell ya. And walking gave me a whole new perspective on a trail that I've ridden many, many times. Of course, some of the time was spent bemoaning the last time I'd ridden that trail and done a 40 miler followed by a three mile run off. Those were the days, my friends, those were the days. But much of my walk was very enjoyable - there's so much you don't notice when your riding or running a trail and focusing on speed or power or cadence. The river was just beautiful - slow and powerful, like me! And I was able to really examine a ceramic mural that decorates the trail head - the detail was amazing! To think I just flew by that mural so many times thinking, "huh, that's pretty." but never really noticed it. How much of life do I just hurry through? Funny how lessons come to us as we need to learn them. Time to slow down a bit, take in the detail, and be grateful for all that I have. I think I can deal with that assignment - if I can just get over this green feeling!

Year to Count Time By

2007-09-26T15:15:00.000-05:00

Saturday, I turned 36. And while the "well meaning" comments of a very few regarding my age and the multitude of risks it carries to my unborn child have occasionally sent me into a panic, for the most part, I'm pleased as punch with this phase of my life. It has most definitely been a year to count time by.

I discovered a well spring of personal strength - physical, emotional, mental and spiritual - in training for my first ever season of triathlon (and most assuredly not the last).

I made friends in person and online with an army of amazing people.

I made a significant turn on a path towards healing that I've been walking for many years. Its been so significant to me, I'm thinking of writing it all down in hopes that someone else might benefit.

I hope that I have grown as a person, a mother and a wife.

Just before the end of "my year" (Vickie posted on her birthday that we should measure our years by birthdays rather than January 1), as you know, I discovered that I have received the ultimate gift - a baby on the way!

Not many years are as eventful and full of blessings as this one has been. I pray that I have the wisdom to be truly grateful for all of these things -and for the gift of time and the chance at another day, each and every day.

On a lighter note, I also hope that work lightens up so that I can keep up with my blog and all those on my sidebar. Who ever made this "work at work" rule needs to rethink the plan!

Swim Bike Run for Two

2007-09-19T09:11:00.000-05:00

OK, let me start off by promising that not every post for the next nine months is going to be about pregnancy. Kay? K.

That said, obviously, this effects things. All things. Notably, swim bike run things, speedy things, PR things, racing things.

I plan to stay as active as I can for as long as I can. Early yesterday morning, as in 3am, after I found out what was up and had stayed up talking to Hubby, I found I still couldn't sleep. So, I went for a run. Easy, Zone 1, 3 am 4 miler. It felt awesome. I spent the time talking to the little bit in my belly, enjoying the absolute stillness of the world at that time of day, and trying not to notice how FREAKIN' SLOW I was going. In fact, when I glanced down at the stop watch and saw it approaching the 50 min mark, well before I rounded the corner for home, I stopped and cleared the thing. So, my vow is, until the baby is born, I will no longer time my runs and bikes. Its all about heart rate from here on out, baby. A really extended base build, if you will.

This morning, I got in the pool. Warm up was OK - felt a little tired, but who doesn't at 5:00 in the morning. When I attempted the 50 yd "build" of the first set, however, my body said "No thank you." So, going fast, at least today, was just not happening. I'm really coming to the understanding that goals are going to have sort of go out the window for now. At least goals in time or miles. My goal is to keep going when I can and rest when I must. Also, I'm thinking of shooting for the Lake St. Louis sprint distance in 2008, knowing full well that things may prevent it from happening. However, having the hope of a race on the distant horizon will help me accept the current scheme of things. I can't be a speed demon now - but I will be someday. Ironman is even farther in the future - but it will still be there when I'm ready. I've got my own "Ironman" event to prepare for. Let's hope this one doesn't go three days like the last one.

Very Big News

2007-09-18T07:33:00.000-05:00

We had an awesome trip. We went to the Blair Creek Section of the Ozark Trail - rich with scenery and history.

The trail was well marked and it was usually pretty easy to find where you were on the topo.

There was plenty of water and lots of great spots to stop and rest. Which was good because twenty miles of hills is a difficult task with a full pack. I was hoping my current level of fitness would be helpful in that regard but I was inordinately exhausted through much of the trip. More on that later.

Unfortunately, all of our pictures are from the first five miles or so. The camera fell into a creek at one of the plentiful water crossings.

To the left is Missouri's only raised fen. A fen is kind of like a bog crossed with a spring.

Below are a couple of structures we saw along the trail. The first is a spring house

of some sort and the second looks like an old root cellar.

On the second day, there was an old cemetery which was really interesting. The young ages of most of its inhabitants proves how difficult life was in these mountains. It was sad to see all of the graves of babies and young children alongside their parents sometimes, who often had also died young. Makes you very thankful for the high standard of living that many of us enjoy today.

Saturday evening, after a simple but incredibly satisfying dinner, Tom presented me with a pair of beautiful pearl and diamond earrings to commemorate our second anniversary. I am such a lucky woman! My husband agreed to hike 20 hilly miles with me on our anniversary and hauled this lovely gift all the way up the mountain to surprise me.

We got off the trail Sunday evening absolutely exhausted but rejuvenated. Its a good thing we got some alone time because we were in for quite a surprise.

As I said before, I was really disappointed that my fitness earned through training didn't translate to the trail. My legs felt pretty strong but I couldn't shake the tired feeling for most of the way. That sort of sucked and I was disappointed in my body. Until this morning. Which brings me to my Very Big News.

First, the bad news : the marathon is out for this year.

The Good News: you know how I likened Lake St. Louis to giving birth to the beast I was growing my belly? Well, it looks like its time to grow another manner of beastie - of the baby variety. Yep, I have a little tri bun in the oven. No wonder I was so tired.

Into the Woods

2007-09-14T10:55:00.000-05:00

Well, friends, Tri Hubby and I are heading out tonight for a much awaited weekend in the wilderness. I finally get to test drive the sahweet Osprey Aura pack I got for Christmas. All this pesky training has gotten in the way of backpacking. We don't really do much summer packing anyway - its really hot and humid and, well, we are wusses - so Spring and Fall are our backpacking seasons of choice. This spring I was - ah - busy. Learning to ride a bike, learning to swim and stuff and didn't feel I could afford a whole weekend away from such activities. I hereby vow that next spring I will have established a strong enough base that I can confidently take a few weekends off to play in the woods.

So, FINALLY, we go. This weekend is our anniversary which makes it extra super special (2 years of matrimonial bliss - still newlyweds) and the kids are with their respective "other parents" so we will have some privacy to - um - hike and stuff. And be Free Range Humans (can't take credit for that, I saw it in a Vasque ad this morning - love it!).

I'm also looking forward to exercising my Backpacking Rule - which is Eat Absolutely Whatever I Want With No Guilt. I've been attempting, with limited success, to buckle down a bit in my eating habits lately. See, apparently, you can't eat absolutely everything in sight even if you are training for a Super Difficult Ass Kicking Olympic Triathlon. Or, rather, you CAN, but you will, apparently, gain weight. That's probably not muscle. That makes pants that fit you last fall, BEFORE you started training for the Super Difficult Ass Kicking Olympic Triathlon and thought that doing same would make you shrink, um ... tight. So, yeah. I'm buckling down a bit. And it SUCKS. But, as heretofore mentioned (can you tell I work for a law firm?) my Backpacking Rule stands this weekend. I look forward to returning to more clothes that don't fit.

Mostly, though, I'm looking forward to enjoying the quiet of the trail with Tri-Hubby and Dudley. Being away from civilization quiets my head and makes me feel centered again. I feel more like myself in the woods than anywhere else - training comes close sometimes, but it doesn't quite compare. And there's nothing better than feeling like myself with my favorite guy and the best dog in the world for company.

So, me an' my boys will catch y'all latah. Peace Out - and have a great weekend.

I Know My Word

2007-09-13T13:10:00.000-05:00

Stronger will probably understand what I'm talking about, and anyone else who's read Oriah Mountain Dreamer's The Call. For those of you who haven't had the chance to read it yet (I'm sure its on your To Do list), I'll try to give a brief description.

The premise of the book is that we all have a calling and that calling can be summarized in a single word. So, ultimately, its about finding your word then going out to live it and share it with the rest of the world. She stresses that it can't be something that you were born knowing. Her thought - and I believe it to be true - is that its nearly impossible to teach something you know instinctively. Try teaching someone to breathe. Or, if you're rhythm crazy like me, to dance. The best teachers are those who didn't know how to do something - in fact that subject was a complete and utter mystery to them - yet who finally figured that something out. They can teach it because they remember what it felt like not to know - and can clearly define the steps they took in order to really understand. Each person's "something" is different - but its something that is vitally important to their growth in this life. Something that they will be tested on again and again until they finally figure it out. That "something" is their word. When I read the book years ago, I searched and searched my heart, my psyche, my spirit and my life to find that word. I came up with a few ideas, but none of them ultimately resonated - at least not for more than a few months. They were all important lessons - slow down, have courage, have faith, believe in yourself - but none of them were my word.

Then, yesterday evening, on my way home from a meeting with my therapist (what!?!? Yes, world, I have been in therapy and will explain all of it one of these days, if you're interested) when the word came out and hit me right between the eyes. Empower. That's it. That's my mission. First, to empower myself and then, somehow - only Spirit knows exactly - to pass it on.

My first mission isn't quite accomplished - I suspect it will be an ongoing journey - but I'm getting very, very close. And, again, the Mystery of my Why - why did I start training? why triathlon? why marathon? why push yourself so hard? - is illuminated. Its not because I feel I need the abuse. Its not because I want to win races. Or even because I want to go faster. When I train, when I race, when I conquer yet another element of triathlon that has seemed impossible - I feel powerful. This power has been immeasurably important to me - how much so I will have to go into another day. Today, I just want to revel in the joy of finding my word. Empower. So it is.

When to Say When

2007-09-11T09:44:00.000-05:00

I have a problem. I don't always know when to stop. Or, rather, I know when I should stop - or at least pull back - but I don't do it.

Case in point: This morning.

I'm not officially in marathon training until September 23 - I have a ten week plan from Triathlete Magazine that I'll be following as closely as I can. With the plan in mind, however, I'm trying to build my mileage and intensity so that I'll ease into the plan a little. It will still be a jump, there's just no avoiding it, but I'm trying to make the jump as low as possible. ANYWAY - this morning I had a one hour run on the books that would mimic my "plan" Tuesday run with 6 - 8 4 minute intervals at threshold with a 2 minute rest period. I chose to do 6 intervals because I imagined I was being conservative.

The first four intervals felt awesome - I was cruising at threshold (as much as one can "cruise" at that pace), feeling like superwoman, recovering quickly during my two minute jog. The fifth interval started fine but by the end, I could feel the wheels coming off. My legs started to hurt in odd places, I just knew I was just about done. But I had one interval left. I knew I had one interval left in me, but not much more than that. My brain said "Now would be a great time to stop with the intervals and cool down. Remember what The Training Bible said? Stop when you think you only have one interval left in you. Stop with something still in the tank." Brain made very good sense. However Beast said "NO! The plan said I can do one more. I'm doing one more!!!" Beast has her good points, but wisdom and restraint aren't necessarily among them. Beast cannot be reasoned with. And Brain was too tired to argue. So Beast got her way and I did 6. When I got home, I re-read the plan and realized that I was supposed to WALK the rest periods, not JOG. All I can say about that now is: "OUCH."

I'm sitting here, two Naproxin ingested, making friends with my ice pack. My piriformis hurts, my IT band is bitching, my right Achilles is tight and I have a weird pain on the side of my foot. Fabulous.

So, marathon training is off to a great start.

On another note, T-shirt ideas:

"Shamelessly flaunting my imperfections"

Front: "Quit Glaring and Run With Me."
Back: " I Dare You."

"My animal wants your animal to come out and play." But, that could be misconstrued. Hmmm.

Any other ideas?

Dare You.

2007-09-10T10:11:00.001-05:00

Hey, you. Yeah, both of you - the lady in front of me buying a dozen doughnuts, and you too, cashier. What's the deal? What's the glare for?

What exactly do you have a problem with? Is it the fact that I'm sweaty? That I dare to come into the grocery store in my running clothes, a thin layer of grime from the trail still clinging to me? Is it my muscles? My smell? I know I'm not a daisy, but I'm pretty sure you can't smell me from way over there. And the dude behind me doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Just you two.

Or is it that I'm obviously a regular person, just like you? That I have cellulite on the backs of my thighs, just like you, a belly stretched out by growing a baby, just like you, a few wrinkles coming in, a less than perfect body and unspectacular hair - and I'm not letting any of that keep me from moving, running, sweating and being? Is it that I'm standing here, brazen and unashamed of my imperfections, unashamed that I sweat and bleed and get dirty?

Or is it that my ordinaryness reminds you that you too could sweat and bleed and get dirty? That you too could embrace the wild animal inside of you that wants to run free and work hard and throw away the makeup? Did your animal see my animal glinting at you through my eyes and threaten to stage a mutiny? Is that what pisses you off about me?

Sorry for showing up like this - normally, I would take a shower and put on some cleaner clothes - but I've seen you giving me a similar glare even then. See, its my kids birthday and I don't have any time to waste. So I apologize.

And, hey, I don't hold your glares against you. I get it. Its scary looking at what you might be if you only tried. I'm not better than you, just braver. At least right now. But you could be brave too, if you wanted to. Anyone can. And that's what's really making you mad, isn't it? So I dare you. I dare you to quit glaring and come run with me. I might be slowing down to let you keep up with me now - but later, I might be struggling just to stay on your heels. You might leave me in your dust. You never know. Not until you try.

So I dare you.

Happy Birthday, Boy Genius!

2007-09-07T09:16:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow, my baby turns eight. Eight years old. Where does time go?

This morning, we walked to school in the rain, a big umbrella sheltering us from the deluge. He was a bundle of giggles and sparkling energy. Its so much fun to see him in such a good mood.

We used to walk in the rain when he was a toddler and I was a stay at home mom, he in his little blue duck rain boots, I holding the big umbrella. I blinked and I was walking him to second grade.

Back then, he would stop at every puddle and jump until I guided him to the next one - like every kid does. This morning, he didn't jump in every puddle - his momma cautioned him against spending the day with wet feet - but I could see by the glint in his eye that he wanted to.

Back then, he wanted to spend every moment that he wasn't exploring on my lap. No one but momma would do. Now, he prefers to spend his time running the neighborhood with his pack of boys, getting muddy, riding bikes, performing death defying stunts on scooters, bikes and skateboards - I am relegated to watching from the kitchen window, chewing on my lip, bursting out the door to put a stop to any activity that is truly dangerous - like riding sleds down the neighbor's driveway into the street ?!?!

Still, sometimes he throws his arms around me and tells me he loves me. He still wants me to kiss him goodnight. And at least three times a week or so, he crawls in my lap for a snuggle, smiles his little smile with his head on my shoulder.

He's grown into quite a little boy. When we arrive at school, we are greeted by a chorus of little voices, calling his name, happy to see him. I take that as a good sign. He's funny, spunky and scary smart - all qualities I admire. I just can't tell you how proud I am of him.

I remember driving with him one evening when he was about three. We were on our way home from somewhere, darkness and silence surrounding us. His little voice comes out of the backseat, out of nowhere and says "I love the whole world." Words to aspire to for all of us.

Happy Birthday, little man. Time flies too quickly, but I'm so happy to spend it as your mom.

First Run

2007-09-06T11:28:00.000-05:00

This morning was my first run since my race. I know it wasn't that long ago - like four whole days - but it still seemed significant when I set out this morning.

It was raining. Hard. The "lazy me" wanted to stay inside, go back to bed, extend my recovery by another day. But the "beast" wanted to go out and play - rain or no rain - and the "beast" won this round.

It was still relatively warm - 71 - so, once I got moving, the temp felt perfect. And the rain wasn't nearly as drenching as it sounded like from inside my house. It was actually more of a gentle shower, welcoming the day, quenching the thirst of the dry ground and inviting me back to my roots.

This is where I started - running. I've always considered myself a runner, even though when I started years ago, I was painfully slow. I think that label helped get me out the door on mornings like these, when it would have been easier to stay in bed. It helped me push my six month old son in that old jogging stroller over miles and miles in the heat and humidity when it would have been easier to stay in the air conditioning. It helped me to quell the "fat monster" who insisted I was a cow every time I passed a mirror. I was a runner. That was power to me.

This morning helped me to believe that I'm still a runner. I'm a little quicker than I used to be, and that feels good. I'm a lot stronger than I was at the beginning of the season, and that feels awesome. This morning's run was a new route that Tri Hubby discovered a couple of days ago - its an addition to an already hilly route we've been running since we moved to this 'hood. The addition includes three more hills, two of them very steep. We drove it yesterday and it looked pretty intimidating, especially considering the long, slow grind of a hill that finishes mile three of the route. You know what's waiting for you at the top of those hills - more hills! I used to hate hills - they reminded me of my limitations, aggravated my asthma and often forced me to a walk. But today, today the hills seemed to melt underneath my feet. Just like they did on Saturday. I still only averaged 11:00 miles, but I felt like I was flying. And, more importantly, I felt strong, at ease, natural. I felt like a runner.

Sitting here now, I'm a little sore. My legs are certainly voicing their displeasure for putting them through those particular 5 miles. They'll get over it, though. They're gonna have to. We've got a marathon to run, after all. Gulp. A marathon.

So, after yesterday's post, the consensus seems to be that the marathon will be hard. Really Hard. As in: The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done. Except for possibly childbirth - that was a bitch of an endurance race for me: three days culminating in the birth of a bouncing 10 lb. baby boy. Yes, I said three days and yes, he was ten pounds. And no, I didn't have a C-section. Thankfully, the last nine hours were blessed by an epidural. But, I digress.

I hope I don't get injured. I hope I don't DNF. I hope I don't fall over. I'm NOT planning on racing the thing. Its gonna be years before I'm ready to actually RACE 26.2 miles. I'm just hoping to finish. I think I'm partway doing this to talk myself out of wanting to do an Ironman. I figure after the misery of a marathon, I'll be able to quench that little desire burning in the back of my head. Now is not the time for IM. Not in my life. As our friend, Bold says in today's post, Ironman is not the measure of a person, but how you manage life around Ironman is. I cannot manage life around Ironman training right now - that mountain is going to have to wait. As I have come to realize, however, the "beast" is not easily placated. She wants what she wants when she wants it. So, I'm feeding her a little marathon. See how that sits with her. I'm hoping that fills her belly for awhile.

Next Up:

2007-09-05T09:32:00.000-05:00

Marathon. Wow. What is it about me that has to keep raising the bar to be satisfied?

Funny, up to this point, I've been thinking about the marathon as a means to an end - 10 plus weeks of focused running to improve that portion of the beast that is triathlon. Not that I haven't intellectually respected the distance, but, subconsciously, I've just seen it as one long training exercise. I have a feeling that will change when those long runs start exceeding the 3 hour mark.

Sigh. Well, I guess if we truly thought out everything we did, we'd never reach. If I'd taken the time to really analyze how triathlon training would effect my life, I might never had done it. And I would have missed out on all the intangible benefits that training has blessed me with. I could have predicted that it would change my body - though I think I expected more dramatic, visible changes than actually occurred. The other stuff - some things you never see coming and you're not supposed to. You just enjoy them when they fall on you - like unexpected rain in the desert. I suppose marathon training will bring similar blessings - and challenges - that I just can't see from where I'm standing.

So, I'll just take a step, then another, then another - and hopefully I'll reach that destination, just by putting one foot in front of the other. Its worked so far. After all, I'm here, aren't I? And Here is a really good place to be.

Beast in my Belly

2007-09-01T15:32:00.000-05:00

Race day really started yesterday, when I came home to flowers from Tri-Hubby and a card that read "You Are Gonna Rock!" That was a pretty cool beginning to my Night Before the Race Vigil. I never got that last workout in, only a nap, some stretching and some quality time with my Stick. I know what you're thinking. Click on the link, you won't be dissapointed ;). Most of the evening, I just read all of your comments (You guys rock!), chilled, and packed my bag, sometimes stopping to take a big breath and keep myself calm. This was a big deal for me (in case 'ya didn't notice!) and I had to struggle to keep it in perspective at times. All in all, I kept it together and settled down for a fitfull nights sleep at about 9:00. Boy Wonder was home from college this weekend and managed to wake us up not once, but twice as he came and went trying to figure out if he was sleeping at his mom's or his dad's. But, it wasn't like I was getting alot of deep sleep anyway so, no harm no foul. Thankfully, I had read somewhere that its the sleep you get two nights before the race that really counts, so I wasn't too worried.

The alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. and I shot out of bed. I had everything ready to go the night before, so I really just ate my oatmeal, got dressed, and did a bunch more of those deep cleansing breaths. You would've thought I was in labor or something. And really, when you think about it, I was. In fact, the seed was planted in my brain in November, nine months ago, when I got it in my head I wanted to try a tri. And this morning, in the pre-dawn of my A Race, I was about to give birth to the beast I was growing in my belly these long months of training. My FTE was like the ultrasound - a little peak at what was in there, just enough to make me fall in love.

Tri-Hubby was up not long after me, packing a cooler to share with my Mom, Dad and Thithy (that's Our Family speak for sissy) and her two year old. Once again, they made the trek from the other side of two rivers to come and sit in the sun and get an occasional glimpse of me swimming, biking or running by. I'm just overwhelmed at the support of my family. This was definately not thier idea - in fact, I think they probably thought I was a little crazy to want to do this - and yet, they got up early on a Saturday morning and came out and cheered my name and kept me going. You've gotta love those people! Also, my friend Sally and her husband Steve came out - cowbells in tow - and yelled for me. Again, I'm just overwhelmed at the support I've had. The best thing about my summer in this sport has been the people I've met - in real life, online, and, twice, both. Triathletes are just awesome people.

But I digress. We made our way to the race sight by 5:30 a.m., were guided to a parking spot, and proceeded to situate Pyro on her rack and set up my transition area. This event was so well organized - bike racks were designated for each wave, the race director stood on the top of the timing chip trailer and made announcements throughout the morning, letting us know the water temp (77.5 - absolutely perfect), the rules regarding transition, reminding us to pick up our chips, telling us where the food was, etc. It really helped and I never had to deal with that "what do I do if . . ." kind of anxiety. There was a woman racked right next to me who was doing her First Tri Ever, the short course. I felt a kinship with her and told her this was only my second and reassured her that she would have a blast. Then, I walked down to the swim start. The contractions were coming closer together - I knew it wouldn't be long now. And I began to feel strangely calm. The sun was coming up over the beautiful lake. The buoys looked as far out as ever, but I knew I could make them, I'd done it before. The air was chilled but I knew that the chill would be a comfort while I was doing the work that was set out before me.

There was a pre-race meeting which pretty much repeated what the director had been announcing since dawn. Again though, it was comforting to feel like I knew what was going on, that I didn't have to worry about the details of the race, only to focus on what I could do. After the business end was concluded, he announced that Kevin Hunt, the triathlete that you may recall died during the swim leg of a race in June, had been registered to race this morning. He said that he was sure Kevin was looking down on all of us with pride - and though it sounds kind of cliche now, it did feel that way, and I was grateful that they mentioned him. We had a moment of silence for Kevin then the national anthem was sung. I got in a quick warmup and, before I knew it, it was time to head down for the swim start. It was time to deliver the beast.

My overall impression of the race was that it went by so fast - I was expecting to have a feeling like "Oh my gosh, I've been out here so long" but it never came. The swim was as close as I came to that because, well, you know, I swim slow. I still managed to pass some people - even some in the wave in front of me. That, I couldn't believe, I was like "Look at me, I'm passin' people that started five minutes ahead of me!" Of course, then I had to look to make sure they were alright and still moving and stuff, and, thankfully, they all were. I certainly got passed a lot more than I passed, but that's par for the course for me. I'll get better. I hope. Still, before I knew it, it was over and I was heading out of the water. I wasn't last in my leg, but I was close, so I was anxious to get on the bike and get moving.

Swim Split: 38:45

There was a relatively long trek back to Pyro from the beach - and when I first got out of the water I was a little woozy from being horizontal for so long. So T1 was slow.

3:16

As I ran up the sidewalks (which myseteriously hurt my feet on the way down and didn't even register on the way up), I heard Sally and Steve and Tri-Hubby and Mom and Dad and Thithy yelling my name. They were my doulas, encouraging me to keep moving, keep breathing, and the beast, the beast who's been growing and stretching and waiting to wake up, the Phoenix, she made her appearance sometime after I got on the bike.

I'm not sure I can pinpoint the exact moment of her birth - was it that first hill that seemed so hard last Sunday that just dissolved beneath my wheels today? Or was it the first person I passed along the way? Or maybe it was when I felt the wind - wind that was not made my nature because all the flags hung limp on their poles- it was my wind, Pyro's wind, the wind of the beast. Whenever she made her entrance, her presence was known througout the entire bike - I attacked every hill, often staying in the big ring all the way to the crest and feeling only exhilaration; I passed a lot of people - men, women, people on hybrids, people in kit on nice bikes - lots of people were tied to posts out there on the course this morning, especially on the up hills. I'm not saying I was never out of breath, because I was, or that my quads were never on fire, because they were, it was just that everything clicked for me and I never felt misery, only elation to be out there, to be moving, to be FLYING on my Pyro. I was yelling thank you to every volunteer, every police officer, every spectator sitting on their lawns and cheering us on. I felt so grateful to all those people who had come out to make this day safer and less stressful for all of us out there. I can't even put it into words - it almost moved me to tears. I saw several members of my team out there also. Every time we'd pass we'd yell "Go Big Shark!" Totally awesome. It all brought home the affirmation I read this morning "God is in all, and all is well." That was the perfect theme for the day.

The bike was not without my typical dorkiness, unfortunately. The beast may have been born, but she's still a little baby. There was a U turn at one end of the bike course, about half way, and I was worried about it. You know, me and cornering are not good friends. I've been working on No Wetsuit Girl's tips, and they're helping, but I ain't there yet. So, when the U turn came, I almost executed it - but I went off the road, right at the end. Into the gravel. Luckily, I was going slow, saw it coming and was clipped out and ready to catch myself. It was fine, just embarrasing. But, I laughed, said "I knew I was going to do that!" And went on.

Nutrition was going great - except for the Gu I lost somewhere on the course. Which apparently fell, open, onto my water bottle. I discovered this when I stopped, as I'd planned, to fill my empty Aero Bottle with water and switch to Gu and water for the remainder of the course. Suddenly, I had Gu all over my hands. I was laughing, trying to lick it off, my hands sticking to the handlebars. That's going to be fun to clean! But, I was getting in the calories and having fun, so it was all good.

Suddenly, I was at the end of the bike. I couldn't believe how fast it had gone! At that point, I didn't know my speed or my time as I had forgotten to set my bike computer and my watch just wasn't working right. So I was racing blind. Imagine my surprise when I saw the result online.

Bike Time: 1:22:32 Avg Speed: 18

Yep. 18. That's the fastest average I have EVER had on any 25 mile ride, much less a hilly one. I will so take it.

T2 was a little quicker, not as much run time, not as much stuff to switch out: 1:37.

The run began. The first half mile felt hard, my legs were feeling some of those hills from the bike. But, before I knew it, I was feeling amazingly strong. I felt like I was going pretty slow, but I decided to maintain for awhile. I didn't want to give up that feeling. I can't describe how awesome I felt. My legs felt fresh, springy even, my breathing was easy, I didn't even notice the hills on the run. It was like they didn't exist. And I passed people. In fact, I only got passed by one person that I can remember. Of course, it was a chick. In my age group. But I let her go. I was having way too much fun, feeling way too awesome to let that get me. The run seemed to fly by. And, I saw Tryan out there! He looked really strong. He yelled "Go Phoenix!" And I yelled "Go, Tryan!" So, there wasn't any earth shattering wisdom exchanged, but it felt good anyway.

Soon, it was time to turn around. Now, I thought, now you start to pick it up. At first, it just wasn't happening. Legs were like "Nope, we like this pace. This feels good to us. Tell your time goal to kiss it." But, after I passed the 5 mile mark, I was able to convince them to give a little more.

As I rounded the corner to the finish line, I heard Tryan yell "Go Phoenix" again. Then I heard Tri Hubby and Mom and Dad and Thithy and legs said "Let's RUN." And so we did. I crossed the line, heard the beep, and Tri-Hubby was there to put his arms around me.

Run: 54:28 Pace per mile: 8:47. That's a PR. I guess I wasn't going as slow as I thought. That, or the beast has wings.

Final Time: 3:00 even. 5th out of 13 in my Age Group.

That's just peachy with me.

After I finished, I was hanging out, soaking all of it in when I saw a woman in my wave come across the finish line. I had noticed her at the start, looking nervous, and had seen her again on the run - she was headed out while I was coming back - and she had looked like she was struggling but hanging in there. I'm pretty sure she was last in our age group - and one of the last people across the finish - but when she finished, she let out the most triumphant "Whooo!" and her little girl, who couldn't have been more than two, rushed into her mommy's arms. I thought, "She's like me." She probably decided some time this year that she was going to try to do this. And, like me, she probably didn't know if she could. But, she did. And that was her triumph. It was my triumph too. At that moment, I had no idea where I stood in the final results. And I absolutely didn't care. That woman's finish was my finish. We were out there together, giving birth to something we'd never imagined. Something that makes us more than what we were last winter. Something that makes us more than "enough".

Deep. Breath.

2007-08-31T10:04:00.000-05:00

OK. Almost there, peeps, almost race time.

I'm trying to work on my mental game, visualizing a flawless performance, no fatigue, channeling Rocky Balboa and all that stuff.

This morning I decided against my final "tune-up" workout (just a short warm up with a couple of short sprints on both the bike and the run) because my Achilles felt tight when I woke up and I have injury paranoia right now. Sigh. Now I'm thinking I may do it after work but I'm a little worried that'll be too close to the race - any of you experienced folks care to chime in? To Tune Up or Not to Tune Up, that is the question. Whether tis nobler to suffer the ups and downs of a twenty minute workout or to take arms against impending injury and, by resting, end them. Sorry, my theatre is showing.

I was supposed to go see Princess sing the National Anthem (along with her choir) at the baseball game tonight, but Tri-Hubby wants to stay and watch a couple of innings and that'll put us home at nine or later and I gotta pack my bag and get my nutrition together and clean my bike and I think I would just be a bundle of nerves and completely spoil the fun so . . . I'm not going. Selfish? Yes. Avoidable? No. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here at work trying to stay positive, focused and pumped. Easier said than done.

Props out to Jane, who's got her first Oly this weekend too - we're gonna rock it, chicka. You know it, I know it and the Blogosphere knows it. And to Tryan, who'll be there tomorrow - Dude you are going to kick some major ass out there! See you at the post-race Chevy's pig out! And to everyone racing this weekend - work it and have a blast out there, everybody, let's try not to forget that this is supposed to be fun! Let's get this party started!

I also want to thank all of you - for reading, for commenting and for all the support you've given me during this thing. I've said it before and I'll say it again - you folks have kept me going, kept me accountable and kept me sane. I'm overwhelmed by the blessing of your friendship. So, thanks!

See you on the flip side!

Taper Pyschosis (TMI, Profanity Warning!!!)

2007-08-30T11:25:00.000-05:00

Anyone else feel like a complete psycho during this taper thing?

This has been me the last 48 hours or so:

Oh man, I feel great. I'm one badass MF. Oh yeah, I will kick some major ass come Saturday. Watch. Out.

5 min. later
Holy, Shit! What was I thinking? I must have been on crack when I registered for this race. I'm such a loser. Why didn't I get on the bike more?

5 min. later.

Oooo. Tri Hubby. Hubba Hubba. Wink, wink. He is lookin' good.

30 min. later

Oh man, I really like this taper thing. I have sooo much energy!! Yep. Feelin' good, baby.

10 min. later

Who do I have to kill to get a bagel around here? I think I could eat my arm.

5 min. later.

I'm fat. I'm freakin' huge. I bet I won't even be able to get into my tri shorts. Damnit why did I have to eat a half a dozen bagels? Somebody shoot me, please!

5 min. later

I am going to shoot somebody. I need to run. I need to bike. If I have to sit here for one more minute, I swear to God my head is going to explode!!!!! I will physically maul the next person that rings that phone. So. Help. Me. God.

5 min. later

I need a nap. Maybe I could just crawl under my desk. ZZzzzzz.

5 min. later

Oh man, I feel great. I'm one badass MF. Oh yeah, I will kick some major ass come Saturday. Watch. Out.

And it goes on. Anyone else feel like this? Anyone? Anyone? Hello? Shit.

Feel the Burn

2007-08-29T08:59:00.000-05:00

Sometimes taper sucks, at least in my limited experience. Sometimes your legs feel heavy, even achey from those miles of intense training piled on in the last weeks of peak. You want to eat everything and snap at everyone who looks at you sideways. The tiniest things set you off like a stick of dynamite.

But sometimes, sometimes taper rocks. When you hop on the trainer for a quick set of intervals, revving that engine until it wants to explode then head out for a mile or so to let those legs run - and you feel the power, in your legs, your lungs, your mind - you feel like an animal that's been let out of its cage. Or like one of those toy cars you had as a kid - the kind that, when you pushed it backwards over and over on the linoleum, you would wind it and it made that tiny revving sound until you finally set it down and it took off like it was shot out of a cannon, ramming its tiny hood into the kitchen wall. That little car was meant to go fast - and so were you.

That's when taper rocks. This morning, taper rocked. This morning, I feel ready.

A Leetle Change of Plans

2007-08-27T09:00:00.000-05:00

I'm in the final countdown until my A Race - The Lake St. Louis Long Course (Oly distance) and starting to feel that antsy, anxious, "Oh My God, I Wish I'd Trained More", pre-race buzz. To try to keep it all in perspective, I've spent some time focusing on life "After The Race". It helps me to remember that there will be other mountains to climb and other races to run (or swim bike run).

One of my major Post-Race goals is to run a marathon. The original plan was to do the Space Coast Marathon in Cocoa Village, FL the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, due to financial and time constraints, that is out. However, we've got a fab Plan B. Memphis Marathon and Half Marathon, Dec. 1. We've got our hotel reservations and our training plans. We are psyched. Notice I say we. I'm running the full and Hubby is running the half. In fact, I'm think I'm going to have to start referring to Hubby as Tri-Hubby. He went swimming without me again this morning, is still riding the Blue Hornet to work and - are you ready for this, ladies and gentleman - we just bought him a Trek Alpha SLR 1200 Aero.

Yep. Its a tri bike. Am I a lucky girl, or what? One of the things I fell in love with about Tri-Hubby was his willingness (eagerness even) to try new things, to consider ideas and adventures he'd never considered before. Given the fact that I'm always finding some new rabbit to chase, this is a quality I admire and am incredibly grateful for. I'm looking forward to whatever new adventures await us on our Tri-Journey. Before you know it, we'll have Princess and Boy Genius training with us too!

Meanwhile, LSL looms on the near horizon. And I'm a little askeert. Maybe a lot askeert. I set this goal months ago - because I didn't like hearing people call the Sprint Triathlon, my original goal for this season, a "mini-tri". The sprint didn't seem like a tall enough mountain to climb - and I wanted to climb a mountain. While the Oly is hardly "long distance" compared to what many of you do, for me its certainly sizeable. I'm looking at 3+ hours of racing. And I'm pretty sure I can do it - but I'm not totally sure. I guess that's what makes it my mountain. I know it will also make the finish line, should I be fortunate enough to cross it, that much sweeter. So, I'm breathing deep, I'm trying to trust the training I've put in and I'm letting taper do its thing. Oh. And I'm eating carbs. A lot of carbs. Hopefully, my uniform will still fit.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to those who competed at IM Louisville yesterday, especially my teammates Brad Baum, Kevin Jokish,and Curtis Brooks and my friend Sally, who blazed a sub 12 hour finish! I admire each and every person who toed the line - however the race went for you, you are my heroes!

Things That Make You Go: Hmmmm. . . .

2007-08-22T13:10:00.000-05:00

Something very interesting has been happening in the Phoenix household. Something very interesting indeed.

Now, Hubby has always been a runner - a faster runner than me (like that's hard). But he's been doing . . . other things lately.

It started with the occasional bike ride with me. First on Red Molly, then on our newest acquisition, The Blue Hornet, an old Schwinn World road bike we got for $25.00 from a team mate. The Hornet is faster than Molly but still no match for Pyro. Its time to get him a quicker set of wheels. Wish I could afford the Zipp variety - course then I'd be chasin' him down hollerin' "Hey, Wait Up!!"

He ran a couple of road races with me. Then, he came to Master's Swimming with me a couple of times.

But, this week. This week he's riding his bike to and from work. And he got up this morning to go swim - by himself. It was my "sleep in day" (woke up at the languid hour of 6:30 a.m.) and I'm swimming tonight in the final Creve Coeur Open Water Swim of the season. He got up and swam 1500. By. Himself.

Hmmmmm.

So, at the risk of discouraging him by noticing what he's up to, I'm outing him. Hey there, Mr. Triathlete In Training Guy! You know, there's a sprint in October at the Rec Plex. S'posed to be a good one. Race ya.

Finally A Plan Comes Together

2007-08-20T07:58:00.000-05:00

I would like to start this post with two of my favorite letters. P. And. R. Baby.

Saturday I ran another 10k, you know, to see what the old girl had in her and, though I didn't place (to my knowledge - they only gave out medals to the top four men and women and the top finishers in each age group), I beat my previous 10k time by almost two minutes: 54:55, avg pace 8:50/mile. Right. On.

Now the original plan for Saturday was to pre-register for the race, get out there as soon as the sun was up and hammer out a 25 mile bike before the race - you know, the perfect race-pace brick. However, I didn't get my entry off in time so pre-registering was out. Plan B was to get out there at the crack of dawn and hammer out an hour as hard as I could go - and hopefully get in close to 20 miles. Also didn't happen. Hubby came along and raced the 5k (He also PRd - GO HUBBY! I theorize that he was in the top three in his age group but, unless they post the results as they promised, we won't know) and came along on the bike. Alas, his bike is just not as fast as Pyro and, though he told me I should leave him behind, I just couldn't. I mean, a guy gets up at 4:30 a.m. on a Saturday to ride with you and then run a road race - you don't just leave him in your dust. The up side was that we found a really beautiful road to ride - it was flat and smooth and skirted the edge of the bluff for the entire way (though, I noticed on the way back that the speed limit was 55 - there wasn't a lot of traffic but they were going pretty fast - not sure that's the best route for future trips). The down side was that we got in just under 12 miles in 50 min. Not exactly the hammer fest I'd planned - still, it was a ride and it was a nice warm up for my legs and, hey, I can't complain about a PR, now can I?

So, in the end, Saturday was all good. Which leads us to Sunday. The last couple of weeks, I've seemed to have a hard time executing my plans. Sometimes the weather gets in the way, once it was Pyro's gears going all wanky, sometimes I've just felt "off", other times its just been circumstances (see above). Life is like that, as I'm sure you all know. Still, its been frustrating to the point that I'd started to believe that planning was just futile and to really fear that I would not be adequately prepared for my A race in just under two weeks. Thankfully, yesterday put at least some of those feelings to rest.

Lake St. Louis schedules two practice swims on the two Sundays preceding the race. Being new to open water, there is no way I was going to miss out on that opportunity. Yesterday's plan was to get in the water at 7:00, the earliest possible start time, knock out the 1500 then do the bike course twice. That's fifty miles - longer than I've ever ridden before (40 was my previous record). Maybe too big a jump, but I wanted to have the confidence that I could more than handle this course and I knew that riding it twice in a row would give that to me.

As soon as I arrived, I met one of my blog-land buddies - Tryan. He doesn't have a blog (yet) but he's posted comments here and there and we've shot some emails back and forth. How cool to be looking around at all these people, feeling like a totally clueless newb, absolutely out of place, and finding a friend. Thanks, Tryan! We chatted a bit then headed for the water.

Someone had stolen the first buoy during the night so they sent a kayaker to the far shore where the buoy was supposed to be. He looked so small in the distance. I took a deep breath (or 50) and reminded myself that I'd swam further than this course out at Creve Coeur, it was just compacted into laps so you couldn't see how far you'd actually gone. Tryan just jumped in and started - he's much braver and faster than I! After standing in the water (which was perfect, by the way - I felt sorry for those who thought they needed wetsuits, they missed out) and gathering my courage for a bit, I started out. I had decided that I was just going to cruise the course, just get a feel and see how long my "cruise speed" would take me, then make a decision about what my race pace should be. Based on Creve Coeur times, I figured it would take between 40 and 45 minutes. So I cruised to kayak, then buoy after buoy until, before I knew it, I was heading for shore. I went off course a bit in the last stretch when I misunderstood what a fireman on the course told us about which buoy to aim for (its really hard to hear with a swim cap on). I ended up somewhere between 50 and 100 meters off and a kayaker was kind enough to point out the two buoys we were supposed to swim between. But, it was cool. I never felt tired and rarely felt anything close to fear, so that was all good. And my time: 37:40! Sahweet! I have to give props to the Lake St. Louis Fire Department and the volunteers out there on kayaks - those folks were everywhere! I got out of the water feeling great and ready to tackle the bike. I saw Tryan again in the parking lot, he was heading out for the course and invited me to ride with him but I wanted to get my packet at City Hall (which was along the course) and then ride out from there so we parted ways until I saw him at City Hall after my first loop. He did the whole course, including the run, in around 2:30! For a practice! Dang, he is going to kick some butt in the race.

About half way through my first loop, I just knew I couldn't make a second. I had come down what seemed to be the biggest hill of the course and I knew I was going to have to go back up it. And my legs felt like toast. So, I started the second half of the first loop fully intending to call it quits after one. Then, I got to the "monster hill". There was a chick in front of me who was obviously more skilled on the bike than I - she was in aero almost constantly while I didn't get down even once - we both started the hill together and I groaned "here we go" to which she grunted her reply. Then. I passed her. Like she was tied to a frickin post (thanks 21st Century Mom, for that expression). That's when I knew that I would do the whole fifty. The whole hilly, painful fifty. And I did. The second loop was much harder than the first, but I did it. All told, the ride took 3:25. Not horrible for the amount of hills and the fact that, while I pushed it at times, I wasn't "racing" the course. Finally, a plan comes together.

Becoming Your Own Hero

2007-08-14T11:38:00.001-05:00

These last couple of weeks have been illuminating for me and I've debated sharing it, but, that's what we're about here in blog land so, without spilling all of it and at the risk of sounding self-absorbed, here goes:

I've been going through some somewhat serious "shtuff" lately and, in struggling to deal with that (no worries, by the way, its all good and all handleable and not life threatening or anything, just kind of . . . traumatic), I suddenly understand the "why" behind this training. In the last few years of my life, I have slowly been learning to trust in God, or Spirit or The Universe, or whatever you want to call the Mystery that churns through our lives and seems to alternately care for us and smash us against the rocks, depending on our point of view. I've found that when I let go and just follow that small voice, things tend to turn out better - or at least the way they are supposed to turn out. Sometimes that doesn't seem like "better" but, often, when I look back on things with perspective, I can at least see the lesson if not the reason. Last winter, when that small voice lead me to triathlon, I really didn't know the reason why - as I've said before, I was compelled and so I leapt. And, I learned to begin to look for my own strength, reminded by others to do so. Every day, I find a little more of it.

Anyway, last week, during a particularly difficult moment, I realized that this was why Spirit pushed me to train. Through all of this - what has passed and what is still to come - I have this underlying belief that I can handle it, that I will persevere, because I have proven myself on the training grounds. I have climbed the hills I didn't think I could climb, I have pushed myself past so many of the barriers I held in my mind on the run, I have put my face in the water again and again and again, even when that fearful voice in the back of my head screamed "Stay near the AIR!!!" These things are physical and tangible and, for me at least, they are proof. Proof that I am strong, proof that I can rescue myself. I can be my own hero.

When I was younger and hurting and didn't know how to make it stop, I looked for a hero - for someone, anyone to "save" me. It took two bad marriages and countless horrific mistakes for me to figure out that the "hero" wasn't coming. At first, that realization felt bleak but, eventually, I learned to care for my own needs, to be happy inside of my own head. Ironically, once I had this down, I met my husband. And I started to believe in heroes again. The thing about pain, though, it comes back until you've learned what it needs to teach you (and then you move on to the next lesson). And some things, even the most wonderful friends and lovers can't save you from. That's when you have to save yourself. You have to be your own hero.

I used to pretend to be tough - to the point of being cruel at times. I thought that this made me invulnerable, that cruelty equaled toughness. Its only now that I'm beginning to understand what it truly means to be "tough", both physically and mentally, and it has nothing to do with putting someone else down but with lifting yourself up - above your expectations, above your limitations, above the ill wishes of others and the random events of the world. I'm not there yet - and I suspect I never will truly arrive as "toughness" is a quality that can always be improved upon. But I've figured it out enough to know that I will get through this. I will come out on the other side knowing that I am saved - and that I was the one that saved me.

Tagged!

2007-08-10T14:33:00.000-05:00

The unstoppable Vickie has tagged me - and I'm a sucker for a game of tag!!!

Here Goes, everything you wanted (or didn't want) to know but were afraid (or smart enough not) to ask:

Jobs I've held:

Boys and Girls Club Counselor (18, my first job)
Graphic Designer (College newspaper - totally had no idea what I was doing!)
Business Broker (for my dad - again NO IDEA what I was doing - I was 19)
Go-Go Dancer (I was 20. I DID NOT get naked)
Retail
Client Services for an employment/GED education service for young adults on welfare
Production Manager for a theatre - convinced me I suck at tech theatre jobs
Actor
Dancer (not the Go-Go kind)
Waitress (goes with the territory)
Adjunct Theatre Professor
Personal Assistant/Caregiver for an elderly woman
Legal Assistant

Movies I can watch over and over:
Lord of the Rings
Big Lebowski
Princess Bride
Long Kiss Goodnight
Monty Python and The Quest for the Holy Grail

Guilty pleasures:
blogging
Lu cookies
dark chocolate
sleeping late (don't see that one much anymore)

Places I have lived:
In order
St. Louis, Missouri
Durango, Colorado
Marissa, Illinois
Evansville, Indiana
Dolores, Colorado
Ocala, Florida
Cullowhee, North Carolina
St. Louis, Missouri.

Shows I Enjoy:
Deadwood (alas, re runs only)
The Office
My Name is Earl

Websites I visit daily:
See sidebar
Swim Bike Run St. Louis

Places I have been on vacation:
Riviera Del Maya, Mexico
Durango, Colorado
Perdido Key, Florida
Ozark Mountains
Blueridge Mountains
Franklin, Michigan
Various State Parks in Florida, Illinois, Missouri, Colorado, North Carolina and Tennessee

Nicknames:
Energizer Bunny
Lara
Larva

Awards:
Second Place AG - O'Fallon, IL 10k
Third Place AG - Taste of Tilles 5k
Best Actress of 2000 - St. Louis Post Dispatch
Best Supporting Actress in a Drama - St. Louis Black Rep (played a Go-Go Dancer - Hah!)
Best Ensemble Nominee -Kevin Kline Awards (We didn't win, but it was a huge honor so I'm including it)
Talent Winner Junior Miss Pageant 1989

A new category: What do I value most?
The gift of my life
My family
My friends
Second Chances
Triathlon

So, there ya go. Probably more than enough TMI in here to last for decades.

21st Century Mom tagged everyone who hasn't been tagged yet so - that means YOU! Tag, you're it (unless you've already done it). Have an awesome weekend!!

Swimming and Other Liquid Pursuits

2007-08-09T16:35:00.000-05:00

Well, last night I completed my fourth open water swim. One mile was on the plan and one mile was successfully completed. It was, as usual, an adventure of sub-epic proportions. I was calm and relaxed going out, having three of these puppies already under my belt (that makes me an expert, right?), and anxious to get in the water as it was Hotter Than Hell on Ecstasy. Funny, that resulted in the water being the temperature of bathwater - and, like most things - I like my baths HOT, so that's sayin' somethin'. Regardless, I felt like I was flying through the water, I was employing my Total Immersion technique and gliding like a freaking moray eel out there. At least, that's what it felt like. At first, I was right in the fray - arms and legs and swim caps all over the place - and trying to dodge the kicks and get around the arms and find a safe pair of feet to draft off of. After awhile, things spread out as the fast people (read, not me) and the slow people (there I am!) took their places in the water. I had one all out head on collision with a dude who had wondered into oncoming traffic (I didn't ask for a breathalyzer, I just didn't have time, ya know?) but it wasn't too bad - fortunately, neither of us was swimming with much force - and I cited more often after that. It still doesn't quite explain why, when I felt like I was haulin' some Phoenix ass out there - my time was actually slower than my first open water attempt which included 200 yards of full on freak out. I don't get it. My theory in solving this mystery involves a few possibilities: 1) The water was so freakin' hot, it slowed me down without my realizing it 2) I swam off course so much that I actually swam double the mileage 3) An alien time warp 4) I wasn't swimming as fast as I thought 5) The course was mismarked and actually longer than the last three swims (I vote for this one. Oh, oh and three, I pick three too!). The Bottom Line is as follows: I need to get faster.

On to the Other Liquid Pursuits. About a month ago, the fine folks at Accelerade made me an offer I couldn't refuse: One month supply of their product in exchange for becoming a "community influencer" on their site and writing about said product should I feel inspired to do so. Some of you may have been privy to similar/identical offers. Now, though I'm a newb, I know that you don't pass up swag - its just not done - so I accepted and began the experiment. I've been using Accelerade for my workouts since my FTE and feel that I have enough experience with the product to lay down some opinions. First - as I've heard others of you mention (or read others of your mentions or something along those lines)- there is a definite chalky afterfeel in your mouth when you drink this stuff straight - not too big of a deal post workout but something I can't deal with during. After some experimentation, I've found a formula that works fabulously for me - tastes great, minimal chalkiness and dry-mouth, thirst quenching and bonk preventing. I dilute the Accelerade 50/50 with water, then add a packet of my favorite energy drink powder, a.c.t., which has guarana, ginseng, stevia for sweetener, and green tea - its a calmer buzz than caffeine, but it gets the job done. So that's my homebrew "during workout" mix. I lurve it. For post-workout, if it was an easy to moderate effort, I just drink the other half of the Accelerade bottle straight up. If it was a particularly difficult workout, I add a scoop of whey protein to tip the scales in my muscle's favor. Seems to work for me. On the super positive side, Accelerade tastes really good - I actually like all the flavors, though it depends on my mood which I like best on a particular day. Today was a fruit punch day - I suspect I'll be up for the mountain berry on Saturday. Maybe a Mango day on Sunday. We'll see. On the extra super positive side, those loverly Accelerade people just up and sent me a Craft tech tee in my size convincing me that I need more of these tees. OMG, the fabric is soo soft and wicks sweat up like crazy. Awesome swag, people, awesome frackin' swag.

Well, that's all I got for today, gentle readers, hope your weekend is full of great and productive training and plenty of R & R. Be careful out there!

That Which Does Not Serve You

2007-08-07T13:11:00.000-05:00

I've started attending a Yoga for Athletes class at Little Shark, Monday nights. Its certainly been good for me physically, I walk out of the class feeling much less "coiled". Before the madness that is triathlon training began, I practiced yoga regularly - in class when I could get to one and two or three times a week at home. Home practice was certainly beneficial, but practice in a class has more facets - and its much easier to tap into the benefits of yoga that surpass the physical. I always find myself more emotionally and spiritually grounded after a focused practice, and a good teacher along with the vibe from a room full of people focused on their "Om" enhance that. Its been the same with this class.

In fact, I think that coming back to yoga in the thick of my training has brought me more of those "non-physical" benefits than before. Part of the reason is that my body is already pumped with endorphins and waiting for constructive suggestions on what to do with them. The other part, though, has to do with getting away from the mindset that comes with the training. Its so easy to get caught up in the Type A aspects of the sport - the numbers are limitless - intensity, pace, distance, heart rate, percentage of lactate threshold, calories expended, calories ingested, body fat, weight, bmi, pr, pb, you can probably think of a few more. And these things are good, in a way, as long as we don't let them rule us or define who we are. Which brings me to my point.

Last week in yoga class, Kim, the teacher, asked us to "Release that which does not serve you" with each exhale. That which does not serve you. This concept immediately took root with me. So many things don't serve me - though many of them could if I gave them their proper place. The numbers, for instance, can serve me if I see them as my servants and not my masters - another yogic phrase, "The mind is a wonderful servant but a lousy master", applies here as well. What other things in my life no longer serve? Those last five pounds of body fat could go - but so could my returning fixation with them. Chocolate? Nah, that serves me - at least to a point - but an excess only makes me feel ill. Ok, chocolate stays, in moderation. As I go through my day, I begin to take inventory of each thing that serves or does not. Some of them need to be jettisoned: habitual self loathing - OUT; negative labels - OUT; knee-jerk judgments - G'Bye! Others, like the numbers, the training, the chocolate, need to be put in their proper place. So, I gotta little project here - its lifelong, to be sure, but sometimes, all it takes is that one "Lightbulb Moment" (Copyright Oprah Winfrey, 1999) to set it in motion and begin the healing.

Let it go, all of that which does not serve you. Blow it out, and let it go.

What I Did This Weekend - By Phoenix

2007-08-06T09:06:00.001-05:00

Well, sports fans, it was an eventful and mostly great steamy weekend here in the 'lou. I'll start from the very beginning - for its a very good place to start . . .

TI Swim Clinic - Friday

This three hours was packed with information breakthroughs, video taped stroke analysis, blue lips, and drills, not necessarily in that order. This was a special, abridged workshop put on for a small group of "Sally's" triathletes. How lucky am I to be part of that group? "Hap" Gentry is the local coach that teaches Total Immersion and he definitely helped make some things click for me. I'm still not swimming 1:20/100m but I noticed that, while my time on my long swim Saturday stayed the same or improved slightly (by about 10sec/100m), I didn't feel like I was working as hard to maintain the speed. In fact, I felt like I could go a lot faster but everytime I tried to speed up, my form started to fall apart - so more practice doing it right and I think I'll be able to really improve in the water - and speed up considerably. So that, my friends, is all good.

Celebrity Something Meet Up

I got to meet Little Miss Runner Pants!! I tell you what, she is somethin' else - which many of you who've met her already know. She's quick to laugh, totally together, and so darn pretty she looked absolutely adorable for the obligatory pre-run photo, even at seven a.m. I almost wanted to back out of the pic - there I was with my post-swim goggle eyes looking like a drowned rat and she was all cute and stuff. You'll have to check out her sight for the pics - my stepdaughter (Princess) has absconded with our digital (sounds kind of like the dog ate my homework) so I am without proof positive.

After the photo-op, we took off for our run. In my excitement, I started a little quick and, according to my friendly HR Monitor, I needed to slow down (NAZI) so I kept slowing down and LMRP kept slowing down with me. We managed to make it up the monster hill and, while I was gasping, she seemed to be trucking right along. At that point, however, she announced that she needed to go slower and hurried me on my way. Now, the reason she gave for splitting off on her own was that I was "going too fast". I have a suspicion, however, that it had more to do with my mention, earlier in the run, that I was going to lose my shirt and run with just my sports bra (as I've been known to do in steamy conditions such as those that morning) and she really didn't want to run next to half naked me. I can't really blame her for that one. My suspicions were confirmed when she LAPPED ME. I was coming around for my second lap, approaching the evil, long hill that we parted on before - and there she was! Ahead of me - running up the hill like it was cake. We ran side by side for awhile and she said she was turning around at the top of the hill - now by this time, shirt had been dropped off at the car, I was shamelessly running with nearly nothing, dripping sweat and probably stinking to high heaven - lest you imagine a baywatchesque Phoenix trotting through the park, let me assure you, Pamela Anderson I Am Not. Again, who can blame her for wanting to run on her own. So, she ran down, I ran on and we met up again at the end of my second lap, back at the cars. She looked fresh as a daisy, I looked like I'd been dipped in sweat. And she still agreed to go to Starbuck's with me! Even though she doesn't drink coffee. This is one altruistic lady, lemme tell ya.

We had a lovely time at Starbucks chatting and gossiping about all of you (wouldn't you just love to know what we said?) And, even though she's famous, she's completely down to earth and easy to talk to. Thanks, Alej, for sharing your morning with me!

Brick

I finally was able to get in a 40 mile ride on Sunday. It seems like each time I try to go for 40, I fall short. And, truth be told, yesterday's ride topped out at 39.8, but I'm calling it good. I got started late, and it was a hot one - though it didn't seem to effect me much on the bike. The run, however, was a different story. A three mile run off the bike was the plan. It was a good plan. If you disregard the fact that it was high noon already when I started and about 94 degrees - with a 98 degree heat index. Oh, and the trail is concrete, with no (almost no) shade. Hell of a plan. The first 1.5 miles were pretty good - I was a little tired and feeling the heat, but I had taken 3 Endurolytes before I started and topped off with some water so I wasn't worried. I should've been, but I wasn't. I jogged 10 min. easy then did four sets of intervals - 30 sec. race pace, 1:00 rest - and that got me to the half way point feeling pretty decent but hot. At the turn around I jogged 5 min. and started back on the intervals. By interval two, I was walking the rest portion. When I was done with that, my plan was to jog to the finish. I was really starting to feel wonky, though, so I decided I'd jog slow for 5 min. then walk it in to cool down. After min. 3, I noticed that I wasn't really sweating anymore. I knew this was not really good, but for some ungodly reason, I was determined to jog the last 2 min. So I did. That was stupid. When I stopped, I was feeling really lightheaded and I had 1/4 of a mile to go. Part of my brain wanted to all out panic, but I knew that would make things much worse, so I just started talking myself through that last little stretch: "Wow, that breeze feels really good. Man, that's great, that's really cooling." "Doing good, lookin' good, you can just slow down a little and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Awesome,that's just great, just a few more of those and you'll be at the car where there's cold water." It was kind of scary. At the back of my mind was this tiny little voice "What if I pass out? Am I gonna puke? What if I have heat stroke?" on and on - I just didn't let it get louder than a whisper. That last 1/4 mile seemed to take forever but I got back to the car, got some fluids in and turned on the AC. Man, you just can't mess with the heat like that. I should know better but I can handle the heat so much better than last summer, I guess I just got a little cocky. Funny thing is, even with the walking at the end, I averaged 11:30 miles for the three miles. So, I was going at a pretty decent clip even though I felt like I was crawling. I won't be pulling that stunt again anytime soon.

So, it was an action packed weekend full of adventures and lessons learned - some the hard way, some not. Up next: Two weeks of peak and then taper. Lake St. Louis is looming in the distance and I'm going to try to grab this race by the short hairs and . . . um . . . finish. Be careful out there!

Bustin' Some Ass in the 'Lou

2007-08-03T11:42:00.000-05:00

So, how cool is this - Little Miss Runner Pants is coming to the 'Lou this weekend and we are meeting up for a relaxing jog in the park. Hah! Relaxing jog. We'll be out there bustin' our newbie tri butts, loggin' some miles and catchin' up - or, what do you call it when you haven't actually met someone, but you've been reading their blog for months? Anyway, I'm so pysched - this chic cracks me up on a daily basis and I can only hope that I don't come off as some boring, suburbia, thirty-something mom type trying to hang onto her youth by imagining herself as a triathlete. Hmmm. A little glimpse into the inferiorty complex of yours truly. That's worse than seeing me neked.

For sure she'll learn the truth to destroy her false perception that I'm "speedy". Not for an hour plus, I'm not. It'll be fun, regardless.

Thankfully, she turned down my invitation to Master's Swim so she won't be able to report how incredibly SLOW I am in the water. Though, that could change as soon as tonight - I'm going to an extra special three hour Total Immersion swim clinic tonight - so I expect some major miracles to occur. I'll probably be swimming 1:20/100m by tomorrow. Just wait. But don't hold your breath. That could be . . . bad.

So, super exciting weekend on the books for me! Have a safe and happy one, y'all - and be careful out there (but not too careful)!

You Don't Know Your Own Strength

2007-08-02T11:29:00.000-05:00

Our friend Vickie said this in her comment on my recent 10K. And she's right. I don't know my own strength - niether do many of us. So many things I never thought I would be capable of, suddenly, I am.

Now, I say "suddenly" as if it happened overnight. Well, of course, it didn't. Months ago - just after Thanksgiving to be exact - I decided to embark on this journey without knowing why. I just knew that I was "strongly compelled" to begin - and I know enough about myself and what has worked for me (and not worked for me) to know that when I'm "strongly compelled" to do something, I need to just do it. So I did. And this has been a wild and crazy and enlightening and sometimes frustrating time. And it ain't over. Not by a long shot. I've sweat like I had never sweat before - and I'll be doing more of that. I've run faster and stronger than I had ever been able to do - and I hope to be doing more of that. I've learned to ride a bike. I've learned to swim. And I'm just starting to learn my own strength.

This morning, during Coach Sally's bootcamp, we were climbing one of the more challenging hills in Queeny Park. It was hard, to be sure. But I was really noticing how much stronger I felt than I had climbing that same hill only a few months ago. I had the thought "Man, I'm glad for this hill. It really helped that 10k last weekend." Glad for the hill. Huh. Glad for the strength, for the lesson that I will get to the top, that the hurting will stop, that I will be better for it in the end. And I'm starting to have faith in my ability to get it done. I'm starting to believe that I haven't even tipped the iceberg of what I might be capable of, if I'd only give it a shot. Now, you have to be selective about what you put your energy into - some things we're probably capable of just aren't worth doing in this lifetime, this body. We can't do everything we're capable of or we'd just burn out - and become incredibly self absorbed in the process. But all these ideas limiting us - all these false walls we put around ourselves - they're nothing but partitions - like the "walls" we used for sets on stage, called "flats". They were just a frame made of two by fours with canvas stretched across - they looked solid but, if you really wanted to, you could go right through them. So many of the limits we've given ourselves are illusions. We can walk right through.

So I've gained some faith, some clarity, many new friends, and a whole lot of courage. But I still don't know my own strength. Probably, neither do you. Let's go find it.

Pride and The Fall

2007-07-30T16:17:00.000-05:00

Note: I apologize for the inordinate amount of time it took to get this to y'all. Apparently, the "spam blocker robots" at Blogger thought this blog was spam. That kind of freaks me out but - thankfully, the Blogger gods have been appeased and I'm free to go on with my blogland life. Thanks for waiting - and for wanting to hear this. I can't tell you how flattered I am that there are people out their asking me to get off my butt and post - Thanks!

It was an interesting weekend in the world according to Phoenix.

As I reported on Friday, I had a VO2 Max test Friday evening and a 10K race the next morning.

The test was pretty cool. The coach, Adam Zucco, started by asking me my level of ability - to which I modestly replied "Beginner" with emphasis. He asked what races I'd done and I said I just completed a "mini-sprint". He used this info to set the test up - he chose to start with a low effort and build from there, which I was relieved with. The last thing I wanted was to crash and burn after 3 minutes in front of a room full of people. So, I got on Pyro, put the mask thingy over my face and started peddling. He confirmed that it was a very easy effort for me at the start and off we went. Every minute, he upped the effort required to complete a revolution and after 10 min. or so, I started to feel it. But not enough to drop my cadence, just enough to get my attention and get my respiration up. He asked if that was my normal cadence and I said "Yeah." He said it was at 90. Cool! Though later he said the top Iron man finishers don't touch 80. I assume he meant they had lower cadence/higher gears. Anyway, after 20 minutes, I was still going strong and Adam was making encouraging remarks about my fitness level. The one that really went to my head was "She said she did a little sprint but she didn't tell us she trained for it like she was doing Louisville." That made me blush and pedal harder. There was also a huge storm outside and I started to visualize that I was driving the rain - it was kind of a fun visualization and it kept me from slacking on the pace. Unfortunately, my storm building ability was a little too good and the power went out just before the 21:00 mark. And I had definitely not maxed out yet. Bummer. The important thing, however, was that we got my aerobic threshold, my lactate threshold, and my power output as well as some interesting metabolic information. So it was all really useful - and they didn't even charge me for the cost of the test. My aerobic zone is about where I thought it was - around 154 on the bike and, using the crude method of adding 10 beats to that, 164 on the run. My LT is 174 on the bike, estimated 184 on the run. Like Rural Girl, I'm a hummingbird. My power out put at lactate threshold is 150 watts. I don't know if that's good or bad, it is what it is. The bummer result was my metabolic data. Turns out I burn exclusively sugar - absolutely no fat. Which, of course, only requires one look at my rear end to see the truth in that. Yeah, tell me about it, I don't burn fat. Dang. He suggested I eat more protein and less carbs - especially simple sugars. My diet is relatively close to that ideal, but I know it can get better. So it will. He also theorized that I may have more fast twitch than slow twitch muscle fibers - which as I was a sprinter and long jumper as a kid makes sense. It also explains the disparity between my 5k and 10k pace as I will be getting around to in just a sec. So, especially when marathon training and next season role around, I will concentrate on more of the LSD and less of the intensity. It is in my nature to prefer the higher intensity workouts - even on longer distances. I like to burn hot. Go figure.

On to my 10k race report. I got to bed about 11:00 Friday night - after the VO2 Max test, a glass of wine and some cereal for supper. Not my usual carbo loading, sleeping, kind of optimal pre-race habit. But the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning and I felt as ready as I could be. I put on my race clothes, went upstairs for my usual pre-race oatmeal and coffee, and went to kiss Hubby goodbye only to find out he was coming along. He had thought about racing but he cracked a rib on our trip (I'll just let your imaginations run with that one for awhile) and wasn't up to running - so I thought he'd choose to sleep in rather than driving an hour to watch me run a rather impromptu race. But, he's Hubby and he was not going to miss an opportunity to cheer and take photos and generally make me feel supported and loved. That's one of the reasons I love the guy.

So, we were off. We arrived at the race 30 minutes before start, rushed through registration and got ready to rumble. I was feeling confident, even in the muggy, hot conditions, until I ran into a truck. Not figuratively. I literally ran into a truck. Lemme 'splain. As I was jogging around the parking lot, warming up, I passed a group of cyclists heading out for a ride. Part of me was salivating and wished I'd brought Pyro to ride instead of run but, alas, it was not an option. ANYWAY, as I was running by, I heard a voice say "I used to love running." I turned around to answer the voice and was only able to get out a little laugh before I ran into a pickup truck parked right in front of me. Luckily, I was only warming up. If I had been going at my full, lightening fast speed, I would've broken something. Like the truck. Thankfully, it was only my pride that was hurt. Still, it didn't bode well for the race that was about to start.

I took my place at the starting line, Big Shark Bra Top and shorts making me feel like a poser. Everyone was looking at me like I actually had game and, alas, I felt that I did not. I seeded myself just behind what I thought was the front of the pack and waited for the air horn.

When it went off, I started slow and easy, keeping 21stCenturyMom's advice to take the first two miles slow and surge from there. There were three races that were running simultaneously - the 5k which took off to the right at the start, and the 15k and 10ks which both went left. The 15k people veered off after less than a quarter of a mile and it was just us, the 10k warriors, left to battle it out on the corn-lined course. With the subtraction of the 15kers, I was surprised at the small number of people ahead of me. There was one woman that I could see and I just decided to keep her in my sights (she was pretty far ahead of me) and bide my time. I was passed by a couple of guys, one of them sounded like he was working really hard already. The hard working guy only made it to a few feet in front of me then he seemed to slow to my pace - again, I let him be and marked him for later. In the first mile, one woman passed me, Pink Chic. She was struggling, poor thing, and I knew she wasn't going to spend a lot of time in front of me. So, I let her go, and kept an eye on her. "You, chica, are mine. You are going down. But I'll let you stay in front for awhile. If that makes 'ya feel better." As you can tell, I'm totally working on my race mentality.

The first two miles felt like cake - though my heart rate stayed at 183 the whole time. Once I passed the two mile mark, I picked it up just ever so slightly. At this point, Pink Chic fell victim to my burning speed (tongue planted firmly in cheek) and I passed her. She took it hard but she stayed passed. Sorry, Pink Chic. Hard Working Dude, also known as The Dude in Black stayed ahead of me but the distance between us was getting smaller. I passed the first water stop, took a couple of sips, poured the rest and picked it up again. Before I knew it, the half way point had come and we were passing the finish line. I heard Hubby say "Go! You're half way there!!" So I went.

I passed The Dude in Black and he stayed passed. (You can see the chic that was way ahead of me in the front, yellow tank top - I was closing in)

Shortly after that, I heard her. There had been a couple of good hills on the course but I was blowing through them pretty well. We had come to the steepest hill of the course. I was feeling it, but I knew what I could handle and I knew there was plenty left in the tank. I could hear her breathing behind me but I knew surging now would do me no good. I let her go. She was a little thing with cut legs and a blue technical tank on. She was fast. As soon as she passed me and I tried to pick it up a bit more to keep her in the radar, I knew she was way faster than me. She would beat me and she would earn it. So I watched her get farther away and did not allow myself regrets. I was running my own race and that was all that mattered.

After mile 4, I removed the safety tabs. My heart rate climbed from 186, where it had been for the middle two miles to nearly 190. It. Was. On. Who it was actually on with, I'm really not sure. There was no one around except for - Yellow Tank Top Chic. The one who started so far ahead of me. I was closing on her fast - and she was struggling on yet another steep uphill. I didn't feel the hill, I just had her in my sights and I was attacking. She stopped to walk, I flew by. Another one down. Now it was just me and my watch and the last couple of miles. Unfortunately, those last miles had some killer hills. I ate each one for breakfast, promising myself that the downhill was dessert. They came and they went and I kept going. The last mile was almost all uphill and now it was starting to hurt. I was seeing fuzzy, wavy lines in front of my eyes - but I was still running and so I just kept running. I found that if I focused on the finish line, which I could see in the distance, the lines were less obvious than if I looked at the road ahead of me. So I looked at the finish line. This race was actually a wee bit over 10k, but they had considerately put a sign up at the Exactly 10k mark. It was there that I hit my stop watch. 56:40. Just over 9:00 miles - a pace thiry seconds per mile under what Runner's World says I should be able to complete a 10k in, according to my 5k PR. Not stellar. But not too bad for a former 12 minute miler. It was OK with me and it was the best that I could do on that day. The finish line was really close now, so I started to sprint. I'm not sure how I did, but I did. I ran like a bear was chasing me until I crossed the line.

Then I collapsed in the grass and tried to get out the words "How many women in front of me?" Hubby, who speaks Gasp, said he wasn't sure because a few 5kers were crossing just before I came in. So I waited for the awards. Crazy enough, I took second out of six in my age group. Crazier than that, though they only gave out age group medals, I was third woman overall. Lemme say that again. Third Place Female. Overall. Never, in a million, zillion years, when I was slogging out the miles pushing Boy Genius in a baby stroller and bemoaning how incredibly slow I was, did I ever think I would place Third Overall in a 10k. Even a small one, like this was. Even one with a lot of other slow women, like this one. Never in a million zillion years.

To temper the incredible pride that came before, Lady Tri was kind enough to send a fall. In the form of an endo. Thankfully, an endo onto the grass, so I wasn't hurt. It was a beautiful full somersault which ended with me in a pile and Pyro as the Cake Topper. I was tired. I had just climbed a hill- a hill that came at the end of a 2 hour, 27 mile, hilly ride. My legs were trashed from the 10k the day before. I was almost home. Almost home meaning, I was right in front of my house. I hit a curb. Thankfully, nobody saw. Or, if they did, they were kind enough not to let me know. So I got a healthy dose of both Triathlon Vitamins this weekend. Pride and Humility. Its all good.

Um. Wow.

2007-07-27T11:03:00.000-05:00

Things are going really well in my little corner of the world. For one, this blog has been featured in the USAT-Midwest Region newsletter. So cool. I wish I could think of something brilliant and insightful to say, but AJ hasn't gotten back to me with any ideas.

Secondly, my friend Sally and Adam Zucco, both from Training Bible, are doing a VO2 Max demo tonight at Little Shark (team headquarters)and guess who gets to do the demo test? Your's truly!! So, I will finally know my true Lactate Threshold and what my freakin' heart rate is "supposed" to be when I'm training in any given Zone.

Should be pretty handy for these next few weeks as I pile on the mileage and intensity (yeah, yeah, I'm following the 10% rule and all that) getting ready for the Lake St. Louis Oly Distance in September. And, it will really be useful this fall when I begin marathon training for the Space Coast Marathon in Florida the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Yes, gentle readers, I did say MARATHON! Its time this Fire Bird got some run on. My run has improved greatly this season but I think it can only get better with some focused training. Plus, I just want to say I did it. What the hell, a couple of triathlons under my belt, I might as well do the 26.2, right? Sure. What the hell.

So, my motivation, which has been sorely lacking after my incredibly relaxing trip to the river (post and pictures to come, I promise), is starting pick up again. I can feel that fire in my belly starting to burn and I'm looking forward to what it has in store for me.

Tomorrow morning, I'm racing a 10k - my first - so I can start to get the feel for that distance at race intensity. I've run that far (and farther) many times, but, as you all can attest to, training is not racing. Wish me luck, sports fans!

And be careful out there!

**** Edit - Ok, so I'm the type of person to constantly "rear view mirror" edit myself and it occurs to me, after much thought throughout the day, that my above "scoff" at the 26.2 miles might not clearly be tongue in cheek. So, there ya go. Totally tongue in cheek. 26.2 miles is terrifying!! But I'm doing it because that's what I do - I look stuff that terrifies me right in the face and stick out my tongue and say "I'm doing it anyway." When I was four, I insisted I was big enough to ride the kids roller coaster. My mom and dad warned me that it would be scary, that it was bigger than it looked, but I insisted that I wanted to do it and that it would be fun. I got on that thing and I did it. With a big smile plastered on my face - right below saucer sized eyes filled with terror. I was, in fact, terrified, but I wasn't going to let my mom and dad - or the roller coaster - know this. I still love roller coasters. That is the nature of this beast.

Whew. I feel better now.

Gotta Get Away!

2007-07-20T10:52:00.000-05:00

So, I wasn't sore from the race but Thursday's bootcamp with my friend Coach Sally has me in agony!!! Any of you lucky enough to live in or visiting the St. Louis area should check it out. Its a great workout and there are several triathletes (including Sally herself) involved.

Thank God I'm heading for the river tomorrow, my thighs are in dire need of recovery.

Did I mention that I'm heading for the river tomorrow? Not just any river, mind you, our river - as in Hubby's and mine. We first visited this river (which for the sake of preserving said river's quiet wildness I promised Hubby I wouldn't name) when we had been dating only two months. It was a test of sorts that we both passed with flying colors (thankfully!)

It was on this trip that I really knew Hubby was "the one". I had suspected it before, even that early, but on this trip, I knew. It was in the way we approached the challenges on the river together without tension or blame but with two heads working quickly to find the best solution. It was in the way that, when my beloved Dudley went missing on the trail (during the backpacking segment of the trip), Hubby (then Boyfriend) stayed positive and offered unparalleled support. I'll never forget walking down the trail ahead of him, calling Dudley's name then finally starting to break down as I lost all hope of ever seeing him again - and hearing my Future Hubby not walking, but running up behind me to put his arms around me and assure me that it would be OK. The sound of those steps running up behind me was the sound of my future. We found Dudley (of course) and the ending was nothing but happy.

The next summer we returned to the river and found the same gravel bar from the year before to camp on. It was perfect in every way - a raised and tree-sheltered spot for the tent, a beautiful bluff to look at across the river, a fire circle on a gravel beach to cook on as the sun set. Even a rope swing.

It was that year, on this gravel bar that we got engaged. Without a doubt, one of the most ecstatic moments of my life.

Last summer, we were back again. Same gravel bar, same idyllic feeling. Its our river.

Dudley's river too.

Happy Trails!

The Aftermath

2007-07-17T09:16:00.001-05:00

I thought I'd be sore - I'm not. I thought I'd be exhausted - I wasn't. I suppose that means that I should have put more out there, left more on the course. But, in my life so far, I've learned so many lessons through pain, it's awfully nice to learn a few through joy. That sounds a little like I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I'm not. Most of my "pain" has been self inflicted - ramming my head repeatedly into figurative brick wall after figurative brick wall just to prove to myself that it was hard. Enough of that!

The race euphoria has worn off a bit but, thanks to all of your encouragement and the support and love of my family, the famed post-race blues have yet to take seed. I'm gearing up and excited for the next challenge - Lake St. Louis Olympic Distance.

In other news, thanks to 21stCenturyMom, my FTE report is featured on Race Athlete's website! How cool is that!

Well, sports fans, its another day in this brand new triathlete's life - and I'm looking forward to grabbing it and running - or biking - or swimming with it.

Be careful out there!

FTE: The Real Story

2007-07-15T14:00:00.000-05:00

With support like this, how can you go wrong? My dad, sister and my nephew came in from an hour away to meet Hubby and Boy Genius at the shuttle pick up at 7:00 in the morning. I could hear them cheering for me during the swim, on the bike, and at the start and finish of the run. They made me feel like a superstar.

My race really started last night, at my son's baseball game which started at 8:00. PM. Also known as "My Private Hell." Who in the hell schedules a baseball game for seven year olds at 8:00 at night? Boy Genius was grumpy before we even got there. And by grumpy I mean the "I hate you, I don't want to live with you anymore, your cooking tastes like vomit" variety of grumpy. These are exact quotes. So, yeah. I wasn't feeling real warm and fuzzy about the baseball game and the hours of sleep it was stealing from the Eve of my First Tri Ever. But, once we got there, he settled down, apologized, professed his love for me, and played a good game. He was especially good at hitting (he's probably the most consistent hitter on his team - Go Boy Genius!!) and kicking the dirt around so it got in the other players' eyes. He's crafty that way.

So, with about two hours less sleep than I would have preferred, I awoke this morning at 5:00 a.m. to the dawn of my (say it with me) First Tri Ever. Now, as you can probably imagine, I had opened my eyes several times before my "official" 5:00 a.m wakeup time. First at midnight, then 2:00, then 3:30. And probably a few more times before that. As has been reported by many other bloggers, sleep is not sound the night before a race. Especially not before one's FTE. Aren't you glad I didn't make you say it with me that time?

I was nervous bordering on Terrified Out of My Mind. But I ate about a half a bowl of oatmeal, a half a cup of coffee and a half a banana. Just before I left, I pulled up my training log and looked at the total number of running miles, biking miles, and swimming yards. "This is what you've put into this." I said to Self. "This is where you've been. Where you're going is a piece of cake compared to this." This calmed me down considerably and I was ready to go.

When I arrived at the race, I found I had a ton of questions and not a lot of folks to answer them. No bodymarking - so "Do we need our numbers on the bike?" No one knew. "Does transition close at all?" Again, no one knew for sure but there was a strong suspicion that, since there were a number of heats setting out from 7:00 in the morning until 8:45, that they would leave the area open to the athletes. So I set up my transition area to my satisfaction, made sure Pyro was all comfy on her rack, and slipped on my running shoes to head out for a warm up jog. It was cool but very humid - and I felt absolutely fabulous. I couldn't have been in better spirits. I felt tough in my uniform, my feet felt like they had springs in them and I was just totally psyched at the energy surrounding the race. I did my warmup without my socks and that felt so darn right that I decided to leave the socks off for the race as well. I smeared body glide all over the tops and sides of my feet and felt good to go.

The span of time between the end of my warmup and the start of my heat allowed me to find those butterflies again. And when you think of these butterflies, imagine about ten thousand eagle sized mothras beating around in my little tum. It was a little disconcerting. I was really going to do this - I was really going to swim/bike/run as fast as I could for an hour plus. That's when AJ's Race Phase No. ? began: OMG, OMG, OMFG!!!

Thankfully, it was soon time for me to go up to the pool and watching the other swimmers calmed me down. There were a couple of dudes breast-stroke/doggy-paddling/running on the bottom. And this one woman was doing the absolute slowest freestyle I have ever seen. That, my dear ones, is saying something. And you know what, though seeing them made me feel better, I didn't feel superior or like I was looking down on them at all. In fact I was kind of impressed that they were out there, giving it a shot. They were working a lot harder than the fishes on the other side of the pool, and they were doing it anyway. That was pretty cool.

The Swim

As soon as I got in the water, my nerves disappeared and I felt absolutely ready.
I started joking with the guy in my lane - we got lucky and the third person in our lane didn't show and it was just the two of us.

I'm the one in the blue swim cap with the shark on it.

And then, we swam.

Best swim ever - 300 yds - 5:44. A time that, for me, was, as our friend Bolder would say, stellah!

T1

1:30

Easy Peasy.

The Bike

I cut a little time off of my previous trial runs here, but not a lot. My weakness, it seems, is cornering. I slow way down before approaching a sharp turn and I lose time on it. In fact, this one woman I cat and moused with for the entire last half of the ride passed me once and for all because I had slowed down to go down the chute into T2. And everytime she'd passed me before had been before a turn - I would slow for the turn, she would buzz past, I would catch her and blow by her until she caught me on the next turn. Something to work on. I got passed by four other people. Two chicks on the second lap, going up the only real hill of the course - and there was no way I was catching them. They were, without doubt, Out of My League. One dude passed me the same way - see ya dude, lookin' strong! And one chick who thought she had me on the uphill but I blew past her like she was standing still as soon as we crested the hill. See, I had a strategy. I was spinnin' up the hill to save my legs, not blowing all I had on the climb only to come out with nothing for the flats and the down hills. I didn't have time to give her that little pointer though, so I just said "On your left" in the most encouraging, positive, in your face sort of way I knew how. And after that, other than cat and mouse chick, I was the one that did all the passing. I passed on dude in a speedo on a nice road bike - like he wasn't even moving. And tons of folks on mountain bikes and hybrids. And two girls on road bikes - I heard one say to the other as I blew past, "I wish I could ride like that." I. Shit. You. Not. I wanted to laugh, thinking of all my rubber side down moments. Instead, I just stood up a little and pumped like I meant it to put a bit more distance on those two lovelies - cause that's what one of the Out of My League chicks did when she passed me. I thought it looked cool. Thank you, lovelies, you made my day. I hope you had a good race!

Final time: 31:37

T2 - :49

Yeah, baby!

The Run

As many of you know, after last weeks debacle, I was fearing the run a bit.

I started out conservatively -

And I just kept at it, grinding up the hills, encouraging and accepting encouragement from the other runners, and staying positive.

"OK, chica, this is where we started. The Run. You love to run. So, do it. Nice and easy. Relaxed like a Kenyan. You're going to do this. You're going to be a triathlete today."

And so it went for 15 minutes and change to the turnaround. The halfway mark came before I knew it and it felt great to turn around - especially since I knew there were more downhills than uphills on the way back. So, I started down the hill, and started to pick it up.

"All, right, lady, let's make hay while the sun shines, pick up that cadence, stay relaxed, you've got it."

A slight side stitch toyed with me throughout, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I kept at it. I was encouraging the runners that were starting their run -"You're almost halfway, you've got this!" Until it occurred to me that if I had the breath to cheer, I wasn't going fast enough. So I picked it up some more.

When I passed the last water station, the one where this totally awesome lady had her garden hose on in her front yard and was spraying any runner that wanted it, I knew I was going to finish this thing. And, looking at the time on my stopwatch, I had a suspicion I was going to beat my 1:15 goal. So I picked it up some more.

The last 400 yards or so before the finish, I'm not sure if I was smiling on the outside, I was concentrating on keeping up the pace, pushing it a little harder, but on the inside, I was beaming.

"You're going to do this! You're going to be a triathlete, today!"

I could feel all the training, all the sweat, all the falls and the tears and the elation I had experienced on this entire journey - erupting as I crossed the finish. I did it. Today, I became a triathlete.

Run time - 28:33.

Final time - 1:08:15

I didn't win any bling. I was 7th out of 18 in my age group and 114 out of 200+ participants. Right in the middle of the pack. At first, I was disappointed with this. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, at this time of my life, I like the middle of the pack just fine. Most of my life I've been first - or vieing for it. First born, First in the Long Jump, "Best Actress", "Best Singer", blah, blah, blah. In the theatrical world, I was always fighting to stay at the top - if you want to work, you have to be one of the very very best. Always pressuring myself to be more - letting my self worth depend on the latest review, the latest role, what the latest director had to say about me. It was exhausting. And I was pretty good at it. But I wasn't good enough to stay up there without a cost. And that price tag was getting just a little bit ridiculous.

Being in the middle is kind of cozy. There's not a lot of pressure and nobody other than the people who matter are watching you. Nobody is waiting with baited breath for you to fall. There are victories and triumphs and failures here too, but they are more personal, more about your own growth, your own happiness than about what the masses are saying about you. I like it here, in the middle. I have lots of great company.

This is NOT an Official Post.

2007-07-13T18:11:00.001-05:00

Well it is, but I said I wasn't going to do another "official post" until after my FTE. But, Pirate just tagged me a Rockin' Girl Blogger and I am so excited, I just couldn't wait!!! This is way better than even winning my FTE would be - So it totally doesn't matter what happens on Sunday because I have been labeled "Rockin'" by one of the coolest, rockinest chicks evah!! Am I gushing too much?

OK, so I nominate

Vickie
No Wetsuit Girl
Danielle
Stronger
Little Miss Runner Pants

Man. Only five? Well, these ladies are rockin' it - now its their turn to pass it on. There are of course some rockin' mens out there too, but this one's about the womens. Rock on, bloggers!

OK.

2007-07-13T12:04:00.000-05:00

This is, officially, my last post before my FTE. I haven't really sorted out how I feel right now. Part of me is totally non-chalant but I have this sort of tingly numb feeling in my whole body when I think about the race this weekend. Its happening right now, and I'm having a hard time typing.

My hopes:

I hope I don't forget anything.
I hope it doesn't rain.
I hope I don't crash.
If I crash, I hope I get back on (I will.)
I hope I don't flat.
If I flat, I hope I can get the tire changed quickly (yes, I've practiced this, but I haven't had to do it on the road yet)
I hope I get my nutrition all sorted out and right.
I hope I don't puke during the run.
I kind of hope I do puke at the finish. Then I'll know I gave it everything. Sick? Uh, yeah. Sick.

I don't fear any of the above. Whatever will be, will be. I can only carry my hopes with me and move forward, knowing I have put in the training, I have the will, I have the drive, I will roll with whatever Lady Tri throws at me. I know she's not my enemy - she's just a pretty tough instructor sometimes. And sometimes, sometimes she leaves me feeling like I've been hugged by the light. We'll see what she has for me on Sunday. Probably both.

I gotta say this. You guys have meant so much to me these months of training and whining and laughing and crying and commiserating. Though I haven't had the pleasure of meeting any of you (yet!) I count you all as my friends and I feel so very very fortunate to do so. Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you again. This is just a little race coming up but this whole experience has done so much to shape me, encourage me, thrill me and sometimes spill me. And you all have made it so amazing. I'm getting a little verklept here, which seems sort of, I don't know, trite, but it really has been a journey to mark time by.

I'll see you on the flip side!

Back on the Horse

2007-07-12T07:48:00.000-05:00

Well, the shoulder is pretty much healed - some stiffness, but nothing like before. And the water tests came back clean. And it was a beautiful evening. So, I jumped back on that open water horse and I rode that bitch for awhile. Only 400 yards cuz, you know, taper. I have no idea what my time was but I wasn't really getting passed or passing anyone, I just sort of swam with the other fishies in the muddy water, found feet bubbles now and again to draft off of and knocked out my little swim. There were a couple of moments where I felt the panic start to creep in but I talked myself out of it. I realized that the natural thing when you are swimming in water of unknown depth is to fight sinking. You start thinking about the bottom and fearing getting sucked down there. But when you relax and really pay attention, you realize that the water is holding you up. All you have to do is move yourself forward. So I concentrated on that - feeling the water hold me up and moving myself forward. I thought about how warm the water was, how blue the sky was and how good it felt to be free in the lake instead of cooped up in a lane.

It was all good.

Still Seeking

2007-07-10T10:30:00.000-05:00

Wow. So, much research has been done on the stages of grief. I would be curious to know the “Stages of a Race” and how they vary from person to person. So far, for me anyway, its seems the first stage is: Eager Anticipation. Followed by: Confidence. Then: Over Confidence. Next: Deep Seated Insecurity. Now: Seeking Balance.

Geez. What’s next.? I’ve come to terms with my strengths and limitations – at least for now. I’m looking forward to just racing on Sunday, results be damned – at least for now. It seems my confidence is returning though it’s still somewhat shaky and tempered by reality.

I think ultimately, this simultaneous relentlessness and inclusiveness is what attracts me to triathlon. Anyone can do this – if they put in the training. And sometimes the training will bring you to your knees. It will build you up then tear you down again – if you let it be your only gauge of self-worth. If you define success with a narrow scope and allow too much to depend on that success, it will eat you alive. On the flip side, if you allow the training and the experiences along the way to shape you, to teach you, and to nurture you, it will make more of you than you ever thought possible. It’s a little like hiking in the mountains. Go in prepared and with a healthy respect and reverence for the elements and all the inherent dangers they hold, and you will come away richer in body, mind and spirit. If you go in with nothing but hubris and the arrogant desire to shape the mountain to your own design, you will be lucky to come away with your life. Like the mountain, triathlon can be a patient, merciful, and encouraging teacher if you give it the respect it deserves – and not allow any individual aspect of it to dominate who you think you are. Like any brutal truth, what you learn and what you gain entirely depends on you and your willingness to humble yourself and allow yourself to be filled with what you did not know before.

Doubt.

2007-07-08T10:01:00.000-05:00

This morning, as taper week begins to . . . well, taper, I decided to get in one more run of the Ballwin Tri (also known as FTE, my First Tri Ever) Course. Everything but the swim and without really hammering the transitions. My plan was about 80% of race effort but, really, the bike ended up being close to 90% (maybe more) and the run . . . well the run SUCKED ASS. Donkey Ass. Dirty, stinky, just had some carrot induced diarrhea donkey ass. It was the run that wasn't. To put it more plainly. I. Walked. Walked. It took me over forty minutes to do the f*(&ing thing. In fact, as soon as I set out on the run I had the thought: "Who am I kidding? I'm not going to place in my age group. I must have been on crack." It was all downhill from there.

Or rather, it was all uphill. Or a lot of uphill. Suddenly the slow times of last year begin to make sense. Then I got a side stitch. Not just a "OK, forcefully exhale and relax your belly on the inhale, smooth out your stride . . . ah, that's better" kind of side cramp. No it was a "Holy crap, this is what Braveheart must have felt like when they were pulling out his guts!" kind of side cramp. I ran through it for a bit then said "Screw it, I've already lost this thing, anyway" and walked. I walked and cried like a little girl. Well, I didn't cry, but I wanted to.

As I walked, I tried to talk myself out of the downward spiral I was speeding down. "You had a really good bike. You're really getting strong on that bike." To which self answered back "I averaged less than 16 miles per hour. That sucks. I'm still two minutes over my goal pace. Total Suckage." Self said "Not, total suckage. That hill in the middle is tough - its going to be tough on everyone. And the detour cost you some time - just as it will for everyone. Let the bike alone. You did well." self tried a new tactic "Fine, you'll get through the bike, but here you are walking up this god forsaken hill. Walking. You're going to be last." "You know, next week I will not have stayed up until 11:00 drinking beer at a pool party the night before. Next week I will get up early and eat a bowl of oatmeal and not bonk. I will ingest a full gel instead of just half. I'll dilute my Gatorade and sip instead of gulp on the bike. Also, I'll be coming off of a week of taper instead of two days in a row of intense running and biking. It'll be a whole different ballgame. You can't use today as an indicator for performance a week from now." "Yes I can. You're going to be last." "Shut up." "You shut up."

I'd say it was a draw. Finally, I caught up with Hubby and we walked and jogged until the end. The best I can say is at least I did the whole course. I wanted to turn around but I knew I would feel that as more of a failure. I guess its time to adjust my goals, stay positive and just try to have fun out there. I need to give myself permission to not kick everyone's ass out there. Either way, I'll have a PR since it's my FTE!!

New goals:

Tier One: Not to forget my bike (Thanks to Jane for that one. Go give her a shout, she's doing her FTE on the same day as me, just in a different state so we don't have to try and kick each other's butts.)
Tier Two: Finish strong, knowing I left it all out on the course
Tier Three: Not to be DFL

Oh God. I really am doing this in a week. Crap.

Here. We. Go.

2007-07-06T11:28:00.000-05:00

Well, sports fans, with my FTE (First Tri Ever) looming in the very near future, I am starting to get excited. I'm finishing my "peak week" up this afternoon with a quick, high intensity session on the trainer and a fifteen minute run off in the 90+ degree heat. Should be fun. Actually, one of the more surprising aspects of my training has been my ability to adapt to the heat. Heat used to be a workout killer for me, but (as long as I take my e-caps), not so much anymore. Today's run will definitely test those limits.

Peak week has been a mixed bag for me as I'm still not able to swim due to last weekends 25 year old induced shoulder injury. Pride/Hubris definitely goeth before a fall. Literally. I get one medal (third in my age group, Taste of Tilles 5k, thank you very much) and I think I can keep up with the fast kids. So not happening. So, my shoulder is still unhappy with me and swimming is right out. I am icing, Adviling, resting and praying. Worst case scenario: FTE swim is only 300m. I can knock that out regardless - though it might hurt a little. Then I'll take a week off of everything if I have to and get this puppy well. The swim is not going to win this thing for me anyway. Ironically, its my growing strength on the bike that will make or break my final time.

Starting tomorrow, my taper begins - a gradual drop off of duration with bursts of high intensity until race day. I know I'm going to be one antsy chick come next Friday. Someone's going to have to sit on me to keep me from swimming/running/biking my fiery little heart out. I'll see if Hubby can take off work for that one.

Come July 15th at 7:30 a.m., I'll see what these months of training hath wrought. I'm hoping for more bling. I hate to put it out there, but, looking at last year's times v. my training times, I have a decent shot at the top three in my age group. That's my Level 3 Goal. Speaking of which, I might as well put all that out there. My Goals are three tiered - Level 1 being the base level I'll be happy with - the bare minimum for me to walk away smiling and Level 3 being the "in my wildest dreams" reach. They are as follows:

Level 1 - Finish strong, knowing I left it all out on the course.
Level 2 - Finish in under 1:15.
Level 3 - (as previously mentioned) Place in my age group (35 - 39). Its a tough group to compete with, but its a small race. And I have so trained for it.

There it is. And Here We Go.

Funny Story

2007-07-04T09:14:00.001-05:00

Just to show you how much training, racing and blogging have gotten into my brain, I'm gonna share this little story. TMI warning!!!

The other night I had a dream that I was racing in the Boulder Stroke and Stride. I was the only person without a wetsuit (the water was REALLY cold) and kept trying to draft off the same Clydesdale that was in front of me during my First Open Water Swim Ever. Like the FOWSE, though, I kept catching the guy and almost swimming over top of him which was freaking him out, so then I was trying to get around him which I couldn't manage either. Meanwhile, in the real world, my dog was puking on the floor from some plastic my husband had given him earlier that evening (?!?!?!?). I heard him puking in my dream and thought "Wow, Dudley is having a really hard time with this race. He's going to have to DNF." Finally, the puking woke me up and I poked Hubby and said "Dudley's puking." Hubby, subliminally knowing that he was responsible, got up to clean it up. Also, I can't see an effing thing without my contacts and I don't have glasses. So I was blind and incapable of assistance. I know, you feel my pain.

ANYWAY, as Hubby was cleaning up the mess, I told him "I was dreaming I was doing the Boulder Stroke and Stride . . ." He abruptly stops me with "What the F*@&!?! He's got a name for it?" I could hear how incredulous he was and only then did I realize that it did sound kind of . . . suggestive. "Its a race, honey. Its a swim and run race in Boulder, CO." "Oh." Sounding relieved. "OK."

Yeah. So, this is definitely permeating my home. At least we got that cleared up quickly. Otherwise, it could have been ugly.

Homage to Bolder.

2007-07-02T12:53:00.000-05:00

This week, particularly this weekend held some of each of our friend Bold's traditional Monday post:

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

So, rather than try to reinvent the wheel, I will borrow his format with a great bow of reverence and assurance that imitation is the highest form of flattery.

Without further adieu:

The Good

I got a couple of great training sessions in this week, not as many as hoped but some high quality, very encouraging workouts. I think I'm going to be ready for whatever Ballwin throws at me on the fifteenth.

My LSAT score is in. 163, 88th percentile. It was received with initial elation followed by deep disappointment (only top 12%? Crap, that's not going to get me a scholarship!) followed by acceptance and relative peace with the number. Its not stellar but its not too shabby.

I ran about 9.5 miles with a few of my teammates on a lovely trail near my house. It was very difficult but also a blast.

Two of my local friend's rocked Coeur d'Alene and have recruited Mary Ann (of the kamikaze rabbit incident) to do it with them next year. They even invited me to join them!!

The Bad

On the trail run, I was DFL throughout, though they seemed to take turns holding back and running with me. I guess that, although I'm faster than I've ever been, I still can't keep up with the 25 year old studs and chicas. They were very sweet and didn't try to make me feel bad but I felt bad anyway.

My Wednesday open water swim was cancelled due to "marginally unsafe e coli levels". I really needed to get back on that horse after Kevin Hunt's tragic drowning last weekend. For now, the horse is in the pasture and I keep looking over my shoulder at it. I know its gotta be ridden but I'm dreading it just the same.

In addition to peaking my fear of open water, last weekend's incident has also convinced some members of my family that I am insane and have a death wish for doing this.

Strain on the home front over the amount of training I'm already doing makes IM C'dA impossible for next year. One of these days, when I figure out a way to make money that's more flexible and when Boy Genius is older. But not this year. On a positive note, we are seriously considering going up there anyway to either volunteer or just party and cheer on the many peeps from blogland who are racing along with Annette, Sally and Mary Ann, my local "girls". Keep your fingers crossed on that front.

The Ugly

Not three minutes into the aforementioned trail run, I tripped on a rock on an abrupt downhill and took flight into the nearby bushes. Not the kind of flight I was imagining earlier this week but rather one that ended in scratches, scrapes, a circle of concerned 25 year old faces above me and a bad feeling in my shoulder. Though I was able to swim 1600 yards shortly afterward, the pain that followed that little stunt has convinced me that swimming is out of the question until it heals. It hurts to lift my arm and any rotation is near agony. Shit. I took yesterday and today off but I'm getting on my bike and running tomorrow. I have to get some peak in this week. Worst case scenario, I know I can knock out the 300 yard swim on July 15, even if I can't swim until then. Say a little prayer for me - or light a candle or something. This shoulder must make a miraculous comeback or I'm trading it in for a new one.

Much love to all of you guys out there - your support when I was in the dumps and your encouragement as I fly out have been beyond fabulous. I love you guys. I really do. Sniff.

Here's to better days!

Something is Stirring

2007-06-29T13:03:00.001-05:00

Something is stirring beneath the surface - poking at the veil, wanting to be released. Something fiery and mighty, a winged beast whose time has nearly come. She is the athlete within, dormant for far too long, biding her time in the cold ashes, knowing that one day, it will be her turn. She is the gutsy broad who goes for what she wants, fear and pain and inconvenience be damned. She is the phoenix and she's almost ready to fly.

I first felt it last night, during a crazy hard session on my trainer - ACDC, Guns and Roses and Led Zepplin shaking my rafters, sweat making puddles on my carpet, quads and hams and hip flexors simultaneously screaming for more and begging for less. Underneath it all, a barely audible roar. Not a threat or a protest but a cry of joy and promise. Anticipation.

It came again as I practiced my transition, changing from bike shoes to running shoes with lightning precision - a familiar feeling hearkening back to my days on the stage, a quick change and off you go into another day, another scene, another life - and dashing out the door. My doubt that my legs would be up to the task was replaced with the bliss of feet springing off of pavement - legs that should have been heavy with fatigue exuberant as newborn colts bucking across April grass. The roar was louder this time, a song about the base pleasure of moving a body that's been trained to move. A body that doesn't have to be elite to love the feeling of speed - my speed, my pace, my dance.

So it seems that while I've been down here in my pit - a place not nearly as bleak as I may have made it sound - I've been doing more than looking at my rock collection. I've been building a fire.

Small now - tiny twigs, some coal - nothing to flare it up too fast. That time will come, now is the time to smolder. In a week, I'll feed it larger fodder until its a roaring blaze. And two weeks from Sunday, July 15, 2007 at 7:30 a.m., the dawn of my First Tri Ever, I will let her loose.

I don't know what's going to happen. I may fly. I may trip. I may fizzle out before the finish. It doesn't really matter. It can't be a coincidence that we call this race a Tri. I will try. And that will be enough.

(Thanks to Bold for reminding me what I am.)

Take these Broken Wings . . .

2007-06-28T13:47:00.000-05:00

Blackbird singin' in the dead of night . . .

I don't know if its the recent death of Kevin Hunt, hormones, nearing the end of a short and rather unsuccessful peak phase, or my impending race (probably all of the above) - but I am just way down in the dumps. Checkin' out the slimy bottom and wonderin' what I left down here that makes it necessary for me to visit. But here I am.

Take these sunken eyes

And its okay, really. This sadness, this uncertainty. It feels like everywhere I turn right now, I'm reminded of my limitations, my fears, my dissapointments. Mostly, I guess, because they're here and they need some attention now and again - like even the most obstinate red headed step child. They need to be visited and ruminated over and stroked for awhile before I can put them away and struggle onward.

And learn to see

Its funny how these moments of sadness, triggered by events that happen around me but not necessarily to me, cause me to visit my own tragedies - the large and the small. The self created and the uncalled for. All of these are like my own personal little rock collection, here at the bottom of my version of "the dumps". Some of them are polished and refined until they're pretty - I'm proud of these, they prove to me what I'm made of. Others are dirty, rough and ignored - things I'd rather forget, but can't. They're all mine, all here, some poke and bruise while others empower and encourage, but they're my weight to carry or drop. Usually, I leave them here, sometimes, I carry them around. It really all depends.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free

When I was going through my divorce, this song gave me courage. I knew that even though I was "damaged" in a way, I could and would still learn to fly. It wasn't until later that I realized that we're all broken, in one way or another, and those of us who are flying have learned to do it with broken wings. Those I had admired from the ground weren't up there because of better luck or genetic superiority, but because they had learned to take their knocks and move on.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

I had the delusion back then that once I learned to fly, I would never find myself in this dump again. I somehow equated flight, freedom and growth with a graduation from sorrow. But I still find myself here, now and again, examining the griefs that have both helped and hindered my journey. It seems that evolution is a one step forward two step back proposition. And Personal Growth isn't a place we arrive at and stay for the duration of our lifetime. Life is not a linear journey, even when we follow the path that was meant for us. Its a circle through sky and dump, grimy mud and cleansing water, grief and joy, pain and triumph. This is our race and the best we can hope for is that we keep putting one foot in front of the other and reach the finish line with pride, knowing we left it all out there on the course. Knowing we didn't hold anything back.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

(Thanks to Jeanne for the inspiration for this post. And thanks to all of you for your kind words of comfort and for your prayers for Kevin Hunt's family.)

Triathlete Down.

2007-06-26T12:48:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure about posting this. I'm not sure I have a right, really. I didn't know this guy, wasn't part of the race (though many of my teammates were), but it still makes me so sad.

Last weekend, while I was busy bemoaning my silly calf cramp and getting beaten by a guy in cotton, while many of the Tri Blog Alliance were out there kicking butt in their own races, a 28 year old man named Kevin Hunt drowned just 50 feet from the beach at the finish of a 500m open water swim in his first triathlon. His father was watching from the beach and heard him shout "Help!" and then go down. He came up once more and then went down for good. Neither his father, the kayaks, nor the 100 athlete human chain that formed to rescue him were able to get to him in time. He was an avid cyclist from High Ridge, the town I cycle to when I'm looking for some hill torture - he may have even been one of the many cyclists I've seen when out on that route. I just can't stop thinking about him, his race, his family and what it all means - if it really means anything.

We all owe a death. He paid his debt doing something he wanted to do, something he'd trained months for. I suppose there are worse ways to go. And the one hundred triathletes who were on shore waiting for their wave to start and launched a rescue attempt of their own say much for the people who make this sport their lifestyle. Still, this is haunting me - as I'm sure it is haunting many local triathletes, particularly us newbs. It seems selfish to make it about me but I can't help but admit that it strikes terror into my heart to think that this happened. My great consolation in the open water has been that I'm not going to drown. But it CAN happen, it DID happen. I'm sure it doesn't happen very often, and I know that people drown in pools and rivers and all kinds of places that I'm not afraid to go. So why does this scare me so much?

I suppose that those of us who crave challenges (triathletes, adventure seekers, etc.) are defying death, in a way. We shake our fists at that which we know will catch us eventually. It may be sooner, it may be later (we hope its later!) but we will not cower from it. Still, when its shadow passes over us, we cannot help but shudder. I fear for myself - but I also fear for the ones I would leave behind. Reading about Kevin's father standing helplessly on the shore, I thought of my own father, husband and son. What would they do if it were me that sunk into the abyss? I know they would be devastated but I think they would be angry with me as well - for putting myself in the position of being taken from them. Maybe that's what I'm ultimately afraid of - that stain on their memory of me, to be to blame for my own absence. But, really, life is dangerous. Driving in a car, flying in a plane, walking down the street - many people die everyday doing these things. So why the guilt for doing something the general public feels is inherently dangerous - which proves to be inherently dangerous occasionally?

In the meantime, Kevin Hunt's family mourns and second guesses and wishes for answers where there are none. Say a prayer or two or a hundred for them.

Post Script - Kevin's family has asked that, in lieu of flowers, donations be sent to the LiveStrong Foundation in his name.

Race Report (Bet you didn't see that coming!)

2007-06-24T16:10:00.001-05:00

Soooo. . . I had a little race today. I didn't not post about it on purpose - I just honestly kept kind of forgetting about it. I viewed it as a hard training day and that's pretty much how it went. The outcome, however was somewhat in question after yesterday's swim. Its funny how in an instant your entire perspective changes - sometimes its in a minor "life event" like a race, sometimes its more major. Thankfully, this time around it was a minor event and a minor glitch. It still managed to occupy my mind for a good 24 hours.

I dutifully awoke at 4:30 yesterday morning to put in some much needed yardage at the pool. It was a beautiful, warm morning and the water felt fabulous after a week away from swimming. I decided to do sets of 300m to begin "peak phase" for my upcoming First Tri Ever. All went well (though much slower than I would like, as usual) until my 9th set. I was pushing of the wall for the last 50m when my calf suddenly knotted up into a ball of fiery pain. I couldn't move my foot and it was all I could do to not holler. I clung to the wall, attempting Lamaze like breathing and trying to massage my calf back to its normal, non-painful self. It just wasn't cooperating. After what seemed like several minutes, it loosened up enough to allow me to swim the last 50m at a snail like pace. I dragged myself out of the water and limped to my car. What the hell?!?!? I was hoping that after a nap and some hydration that it would let up and I could get in my long run as planned. I had already decided that I wouldn't taper for todays race since it was a training exercise and not a PR attempt. It didn't get better and only seemed to stiffen up with rest. I nixed my long run and hoped for the best.

Now, the race is in my home town of Ballwin, the same venue as my upcoming First Tri Ever (three weeks to go!). It also happened to be located along the bike course for my FTE so the plan was to do a brick. As of last night, I was just hoping I'd still be able to do the race.

I got up at 5:00am, ate some breakfast, packed my run bag and loaded it into the car. Hubby was going to meet me at packet pick up at 7:00. My calf felt stiff but seemed to improve as I warmed up. There was nothing left to do but give it a shot. So, I set out on my bike, rode to the race course and hammered out three laps (the race will only be two). I was pretty pleased with my speed - I timed two laps (total 9 miles) at about 32 min. My goal is to do it in 30 but I think with hammering the hills a little harder and airing up my tires (I noticed that my front was a little low going into the second loop) and with the excitement of the race that I can shave those two minutes off. I arrived as scheduled at packet pick up and Hubby was there to meet me. My plan was coming together.

The race went relatively well. I decided to try and start a little easier and save some juice for the end. That didn't really work out - my first mile was 8:08, second 8:48, third 9:37. Yeah, so I went for a positive split. I came in at 26:33. One minute slower than my PR. Again, not so great. My heart rate remained at 180 the entire time. I managed to get it to 184 a couple of times but I couldn't seem to maintain that effort. Everytime I looked for more juice, I just didn't have it. I felt strong throughout, passed a lot of people, encouraged a couple of runners who were struggling, but never felt like I could just "give a little more." I don't know if it was my cycling legs - which I felt in the second mile - or the fact that I gave myself "permission" to not PR or what. It just wasn't happening. However, I did have a fun race. I did race as hard as I felt able at that moment in time. I was able to dig a little in the last stretch before the finish line and that felt good.

And one minute off PR isn't too shabby for a race right after a 16+ mile bike ride that I hammered out. And, considering that my goal for the run in my FTE is under 30 minutes, that time is encouraging.

The worst news is . . .

I got beat by a kid and a guy running in this races' T-shirt. Not. Good. (click on picture to enlarge - that's me huffing it in the background)

Dissapointed!

2007-06-21T10:42:00.000-05:00

As you see above, my blog is rated PG. Thanks to Nytro for that little informative bit of information. She got an NC-17, by the way. Much cooler than my PG. Could I get any more tame? I always thought I was a wild thing. Maybe I should say the f word more.

In other, more relevant news, my training has sort of sporadically sucked ass (take that PG rating). Not in its quality as much as in its consistency and quantity. It seems like I can't get all the planned workouts in for more than one discipline per week - and sometimes not even that. I'm worried that I'm getting lax and will feel it come race time - particularly in September when I attempt my A race - the Lake St. Louis Oly. The problem is, when I manage to get everything in, I find I'm suffering from sleep deprivation - so it seems I have to choose between doing it all or sleeping - and sleeping seems to be helping almost as much as training - at least on a daily level. My fear is that it will prove to be less useful on the racing level. What's a girl to do? I definitely feel my fitness improving - but the numbers on my little ticker over there are less than impressive. This week, the swim is suffering as I haven't gotten in the pool since Saturday. Once a week ain't gonna cut it, people! Of course, the beginning of the week I was suffering some major GI distress due to an overindulgence in the Dreaded Dairy on Saturday. Thanks to my Sister In Law who puts cheese in everything - even tea. Ok, not tea, but in everything else. So, due to said GI stress, my Monday swim was ix-neyed.

Any input? Is my Oly going to kill me with this minimal training I've been spitting out? Is sleep as important as miles and yards? Who shot JR? Any information is appreciated.

That. Was. Awesome.

2007-06-19T21:07:00.000-05:00

First, for the record, there was really a rabbit. The part about him being white and having sharp teeth and killing all those knighty guys, I made up. Or rather the funny lunatics across the pond that created Monty Python made it up. I just thought I'd clarify because I didn't want you thinking that: a) I made the entire thing up and there wasn't a rabbit or b) that I dress up in those knight type costumes. Because I don't. Anymore. I don't want to talk about that anymore.

ANYWAY - there was a rabbit and he did come out of the corn fields and directly into our path on some Kamikaze mission to kill and/or mangle the nice bikers and their bikes who are trying to be more green and stuff by riding their bikes around instead of like their cars so I'm really not sure what his problem was. Maybe he worked for the oil companies. We'll never know for sure because, by some miracle, his evil plan failed and I didn't run over him. I'm still not sure how I missed because the last view I had of him was centimeters in front of my swiftly moving tire. It must have been a miracle.

That said, I have to tell you about my bike ride this evening. I went to Babler Park, a beautiful park with wide, smooth roads, very little traffic, and killer hills. And I got up to 41 miles per hour. 41!!!!! On my bike!! So, Bold, I wasn't in aero and it wasn't 45 but, DAMN, you were right!!! Who'dve thunk it a couple of months ago when I couldn't keep my damn bike rubber side down - but there I was, FLYING down the hill at 41 miles per hour (that's more than twice what the speed limit was. I was speeding! ON MY BIKE!!!) And you know what else . . . it wasn't scary. Not even a little. It effing ROCKED!!!

Now, I have to add a caveat that on the uphills I got down to the shameful speed of 5. Wheezing and begging for mercy going 5. Not. Pretty.

But the downhill made up for it. And that is enough for me.

It Came to Pass In Days of Yore . . .

2007-06-18T09:33:00.001-05:00

I had a great ride yesterday with my friend Mary Ann from bootcamp (yes, she has a friend named Ginger, let's not go there). We went out to Columbia and tore up about 33 miles. There was some time for chatting, some time for sweating and even a quick break for Sharkies. However, on our way back, we had a near fatal encounter with this mythical creature:

It came running out of the corn fields and crossed the road, directly in front of our tires. We were, of course in aero going 20 miles an hour and with little to no reaction time. It barely cleared Mary Ann's tire then came for mine - I could do nothing but pray that the beast would have mercy on me. Thankfully, he'd had his fill of blood that day and all of us (Marianne, myself and the rabbit) escaped unharmed. We would all live to race another day.

I'm Okay!!

2007-06-14T06:57:00.000-05:00

Thank you, all, for your messages of support. You really helped me get it together and "Gitter dun".

It was set up as a lap swim with each out and back equaling 200 meters. The first 200, I couldn't get my breath and had to keep turning over and floating on my back. I did the breast stroke for awhile a few times too, but even that seemed to wear me out. At that point, I told myself it was totally fine to cut it short at 400 meters. It was, after all, my first open water swim. And it was kind of freaky. The water was very dirty, there were other swimming, thrashing bodies around - though much fewer than will be there at the race - there was no wall to push off of, you know, it was a little freaky and I was a little panicked. So, I promised myself I could come in after 400. So I did the 400 and decided to go for 600. With 600 down, I thought I could do 800. By that point, I had calmed down, was feeling pretty confident in my sighting and knew I could finish the whole thing.

I was still pretty convinced that I would be last out of the water but at least I would know that I hadn't DNFd. As I finished my last lap, I was amazed to see there were still a small group of people right in front of me. So, I could be last, but I wouldn't be out there swimming for 20 minutes with no one else in the water. When I emerged (the only one to get out of the water to applause - thanks, Hubby!), I was amazed to discover there were still a couple of people out there. I wasn't last!!

My time kind of, well, it was kind of weak - 47 minutes and change. That panic cost me a few minutes, for sure. But I did it.

And I saw SBR guy. And Hubby came out to watch and he got to meet SBR guy. And the folks running the event were very supportive and upbeat. And, the park was just beautiful, the water was warm, the trail was smooth for my very short bike ride after. There was even a trail/lakeside restaurant with live music where Hubby and I had dinner. Very cool.

So it was a very positive experience - and I'm glad to have my first open water behind me. Phew.

I'll do it again in a couple of weeks!

Help.

2007-06-13T10:41:00.000-05:00

So, tonight, I'm going for my first real life, actual, in fact open water swim. Sure, I swam for like 10 minutes in the ocean in Mexico and for like 5 or 10 minutes in the Hooza river, marveling that if I adjusted my stroke speed, it was like an endless pool. But I haven't really done any open water swimming.

Its time.

SBR guy is one of the organizers of this biweekly event and I have finally gathered the courage to attend. They are holding open water swim "races" every other Wednesday night at Creve Coeur Lake - I put "races" in quotations because I know I won't be "racing" this evening. I'll be happy if I'm not "drowning" by the end of it all. So, the plan is 1600 open water meters followed by an hour easy cruise on the bike. I'm nervous. No, not true, I'm actually semi-terrified. I'm semi-terrified of the following things in the following order:

1) Drowning.

2) Getting cancer or some bizarre bacterial illness from the crap in the water (they do test the water the day before each swim but it scares me anyway)

3) Being DFL in the water with people coming up to me and asking if I'm OK.

Yikes.

If any of you have any advice or positive mantras to pass on, I'd be grateful. Writing this is making me even more nervous.

As the infamous and well loved Winnie the Pooh is so fond of saying:

Oh, help.

Test Report

2007-06-12T12:32:00.001-05:00

Well, its over. That's one thing.

I think it went pretty well but its nearly impossible to tell. And, unlike a race, the results won't be ready for three weeks or so, so I have no idea,really.

It was definitely an endurance event of sorts, without the aid stations. We weren't even allowed access to our water during the test - it was limited to the break which occurred midway into the test. If I score poorly, I'm blaming the fact that I wasn't properly hydrated. I wanted to get an athlete's waiver to allow my water on my desk, but I didn't apply in time.

I was, with the exception of the proctors, the oldest person in the room. I got some funny looks from the young co-eds, particularly the slew of girls in Victoria's Secret "Pink" sweats and flip flops. I think they made up about 75% of the test takers. They'll probably all score 180 and make me look like an idiot.

Thanks to Bolder, Vickie, Donald, Stronger, and Pirate for sending luck my way. If I score well, it will be in no small part due to your good vibes. THANKS!!

If I don't, I'm really fine with it. I'm still not 100% sure I want to go to Law School or what I want to be when I grow up. So, if I bombed the test, I know that path wasn't the one. Of course I'd rather have all options open, but it will be what it will be. At least now I can put my focus back on my training and getting ready for my First Ever Tri July 15th - Less than 5 Weeks Away?!?!?! Whoo Hoo - I will be ready!!

Test Time

2007-06-11T09:51:00.000-05:00

Well, this day has come a lot more quickly than I expected. Its LSAT day. I've done some work (I wish I'd done more, but isn't that always the case when its time to toe the line?), I've printed my ticket, I've sharpened my pencils. Its time to do this thing.

As Bolder says, may my preparation meet my opportunity. It will be what it will be.

Wish me luck.

Mythology Revisited

2007-06-07T08:59:00.000-05:00

I've been thinkin'. (oh-oh, you say, here we go again!). I've been thinking about the lies I've been telling myself. And the lies you've been telling yourself. A few posts back I mused about "debunking the myths I made up about myself." I'm coming to believe more and more that this is the core purpose of training for me - and perhaps even for my being here on this planet.

One Big Lie: I'm slow. Now, I'm not talking about recognizing your limitations - that's a good thing, it guides you to the places you'd like to improve and helps motivate you to push forward - IF you believe you can overcome those limitations. I'm talking about the labels we give ourselves - the ones we tattoo on our brains until they become our inescapable truths. Well guess what, people, the "truths" we've been relying on to keep ourselves in our place are LIES. I'm not slow. This is a heart stopping shock to me - I've believed for years that Slow defined my athletic ability, that it was a "truth" I'd just have to accept and move on. Sure, I did speed work and hill work but I knew that the inescapable fact was that I Was Slow. Total, Absolute Lie.

I was comparing my 5k time (which I understand was not stellar, by any means - I still have a long way to go and I will probably never be "elite", there's my caveat) to other women my age in the St. Louis area. You know what, small race or not, I'm in the "above average" category. That's not slow. That's above average.

Now, I'm actually not going on and on about this to toot my own horn (which isn't really a bad thing in and of itself) or to boast or even to say "Yeah, me!" It just hit me that if I've been laboring under these delusions about myself, then a lot of other people probably are too. After all, humans are probably more alike than different when you get down to it. And I want us all to Stop It! Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it an excuse we give ourselves for not trying our best to fulfill our greatest potential? Is it because, deep down, we've been convinced that we shouldn't think too awfully much of ourselves? What?

Whatever the reason, we are robbing ourselves and the human race as a whole by denying our magnificence and lying our way into mediocrity. We owe the world our best. And all of us are, in our unique and varied ways, magnificent. Sure, we all have our talents and shortcomings, we all have warts and imperfections and things we're ashamed of. But, we come into this world with enough of those things - we don't need to invent more. So, I'm challenging all of you to just quit it. Start challenging the labels you've given yourself. Start asking yourself where they came from. Start letting go of that destructive mythology. Life is hard enough. Embrace your magnificence, people, and quit the bullshit!

Lecture over. Go out there and kick some ass.

It's Official

2007-06-06T07:33:00.001-05:00

Official Results
Time: 25:35"11
3rd Place Female 30-39

I GOT BLING!!!

Man, only a tenth of a second or so and This Chick

Would've been third and I'd have been second.

Oh, well. No regrets. This is the first time ever that I've even come close to placing - so it was a small race, I'm still proud.

All the waiting . . . .

Was totally worth it!!

Thanks for your support, everyone!!! You guys really helped me to believe that I could do it - and believing is half the battle.