Indian Summer Classic: A Bitter-schweet Symphony

Did the race today...

Overall, it was a great day. My training buddy, Jen, had an awesome day -- exceeding her goal for the day. Mine was medium. I made some errors, not the least of which was going out WAY. TOO. FAST. None of this ruined my day, but it did make for a somewhat anti-climactic first race back after Ironman. Of course, the root error was not training consistently (big surprise). I think I'll finally be able to get into a groove re: school/training scheduling this week. You know, just in time for midterms.

Anyway, here's the rundown of the day:

Bitter: Staying up past midnight making a mix CD for the ride.
Schweet: Jen stayed up past midnight doing the same thing.

Bitter: Jen's CD player wouldn't read either of the independently-created CDs we both stayed up way too late making.
Schweet: THE WEATHER!!! A clear, Indian summer morning on Lake MacBride -- the widest possible spectrum of fall colors!

Bitter: 10:18/miles with more than a few walk breaks
Schweet: Motivation to work harder these next six weeks to the Girls on the Run 5K.

Bitter: Crashed HARD for 2 hours when I got home.
Schweet: Having the universe plop a super duper magna fantastic training partner into my lap -- in a way that is usually what ends such partnerships. *cryptic* Maybe I'll tell that story another time.

And the grand finale: previewing the bike ride we'll take tomorrow -- have I mentioned before how beautiful Iowa is? I friggin' LOVE living here!

IMKY '08 Part 1: Broad Strokes

I have to admit, there is a part of me that wants to document every single moment of this day. But the part of me with the stronger voice prefers to prefers to paint in broader strokes, focusing on the things I want to stay with me and in the foreground of my memory of this event. Of course, I have PLENTY to say about this, so I will wax philosophical on all those topics in separate posts in the coming days. But for now:

Ironman Louisville 2008 in Five Easy M.F. Hard-Ass Pieces

1. Play of the Day: Sharing the Start Line with TriBloggers!
I can't express how wonderful and peaceful it was to have Kim and Mary at the start line. I'm fairly certain that if they weren't there, I'd have thrown up or otherwise talked myself into some sort of pit of despair.

These two are such wonderful, spirited women with great outlooks on sport and life. I'm so grateful to have met them and to have seen them out on the run course -- my own spirits buoyed every time I saw them.

That, and Mary's title and caption for this pic pretty much nail it.

2. Swim Kicker
According to my friend, Mary Beth, I left 883 people behind me on the swim. I am a mid-pack swimmer! Woot! The swim itself was actually fairly uneventful: I got punched in the head once, lots of hands on my feet -- nothing out of the ordinary, though I was unprepared for all the butt-grabbing. I can't ever remember that happening in any other race. There was also something very unnerving about swimming in a shipping channel. Like Mary, I had mysterious red spots all over me when I got home. *shudder*

3. Hills and Wind and Heat -- Nemeses No More!!!
Making the bike cutoff under these conditions was a victory in itself. And then the wind picked up on the second loop. Oy. The toughest parts:

Miles 18-28. This section had some of the steepest sustained climbs of the course. An out & back jaunt, it also meant you could really get screaming down those hills. I don't know if it was my mountain biking fearlessness or the quality of my bike, but I flew past a LOT of people on the downhills (maxed out at 40+mph -- I heard pros got up to 50+). There was one crashed cyclist that I saw on the side of the road -- we were all still pretty bunched up at this point in the race, and a lot of people were not placing themselves in the lane safely. I can imagine that she got clipped in the crowd.

Bonked on the 1st Loop. My pack of electrolyte pills bounced out of my bento box sometime in these first 40 miles. Then I let my nutrition get away from me. Then I got really slow and my mood started to sink along with my avg speed (I needed to keep it above 13mph). I remembered reading somewhere that you should pay attention to your mood on the course because it's a sign that you need to take in more calories. This was the only time on the course that I felt bad and like I never wanted to do another Iron-distance race again. Then I ate a gel and guzzled some gatorade and things started looking up.

Acorn Hill. Holy mackerel. This crappy little hill pops up after a tough section in the loop (steeper hills, no shade or breeze). You have NO momentum going into it and even though it's short, it. is. steep. I pedaled up it on the first loop; decided to conserve my energy and walk it on the second loop. Jeebus, that little thing was a monster!

8:23:21 is a LONG time to sit on a bike seat.

4. Running the Numbers
Once I knew I would make the bike cutoff, I pretty much had no plan for the rest of the race. My original goal heading out on the run course was to finish under 17 hours. My legs actually felt good enough to run, but I was having some weird stomach stitches for the first hour, so running was out. I did run for a bit headed toward the "false finish" -- where they run you within yards of the finish line before sending you out for the second lap. And though I knew from Pigman that walking would potentially be more painful than running, I knew I could walk the whole thing and still make the course cutoff. Of course, I ran whenever I saw cameras and for the last point-two because, well, I have my pride. I'd like to think that if there was a hard midnight deadline like other IMs that I would have run enough to make that. I guess I'll know for sure next time. (That's right, I said next time.)

5. The Distance Between Your Ears
There was a point when I was about 5 1/2 miles from the finish and there was a man behind me -- coming the other direction on the out & back -- who was about 6 1/2 miles out from the line. I saw the sweep van pull up beside him. I was too far away to hear, but I knew what conversation they were having. I kept repeating in my head, "Don't get in that van! No, don't do it! You're so close!" I desperately wanted him to keep going, and I really wanted to punch that driver for putting the offer on the table for that guy.

Then the man stopped walking and reached for the door.

I only cried three times on the course. Twice I teared up because I was just so happy to be there and knew that I would finish. But the tears only streamed down my cheeks one time and it was for this man. There is something painfully heartbreaking to witness a person give up.

About an hour later, the van pulled up beside me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel fine," I said. Then, with perhaps too much force: "Keep driving."

He laughed and drove on.

. . .

Yes, this was a long, painful day. But even just a few days later, I don't really remember so much of the physical discomfort -- though I was definitely a lot more than uncomfortable. What I remember is how high my spirits stayed. I think this is what got me over that finish line. Except for bonking on the first loop of the bike, I smiled BIG for most of the day and almost all of the run.

At the pre-race talk, Lance Watson, a multi-sport coach, told us to treat ourselves well on race day. He'd just come from IM Canada where he saw one dejected face after another. "Don't give up on yourselves," he told us. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I spent the two weeks before crying and beating myself up for not training harder. I had been incrementally giving up on myself every day leading up to the race.

So I smiled instead.

And I never gave up on myself.

And I finished.


And then I tripped three steps after crossing the finish line.

70.3 Despite My Ovaries' Best Efforts (Again)

As I mentioned with my last race report, I am trying a "highlights-only" version of ye olde race report as I have neither the time nor the patience to recount all the minutiae. I figure I've got about five worthwhile things to say about any race, so here it is: the inaugural Five Spot Race Report (it's like a threat down, only race-related).

Five Spot: Pigman Half-Iron Triathlon

1. Play of the Week: MY FIRST SHERPA!

On Friday, Veg*Triathlete Jen called me up and offered to sherpa for me today. "You got it!" I said, even though I wasn't really sure what it meant. Turns out, it means letting the racer blast Britney Spears (playlist forthcoming) and talk a mile a minute at 5am while she burns off nervous energy, and then, when aforementioned racer has a disastrous run, still meets her a mile from the finish to tell her she's her hero and bouys her spirits enough to get her to run the last 100yds to the finish.


2. Inner Swim Kicker (46:19)
With the breeze, I got a taste (I think) of what it might be like to swim upriver for Iron Louie. A little disconcerting; a little sputtering. Hmph. Good thing I get to go with the current after about .8 mile of that. Other than that, not too shabby for swimming a squirrely line and getting swam over for the first time (that didn't even happen at IMAZ!). And, according to Jen, there were plenty of people behind me.


3. Inner Bike Kicker (3:52; avg 14.7 mph)
I was *hoping* for a 4-hour ride. Then there were hills. And a slight headwind. So this really was out-friggin'-standing. That, and the part where I sang My Prerogative OUT LOUD, alternating with "Who rocks the mic? Krissy rocks the mic. And when Krissy rocks the mic, she rocks it all the way down" for the first 30 miles. Oh yeah, I spent my formative years at cheer camp.

4. Inner Run Kicker (3:32 -- walking 16:11/mile)
Oy. A fatal error in T2 meant that not only would I not finish under 7:30 (which was my goal), the potential 7:00-7:15 finish I had set up on the swim and bike also evaporated. Thanks, ovaries. (But also thanks for doing this today and not at Iron Louie.) Let's just say that I forgot to pause for bladder/ovary maintenance before I left T2. Also, the cramps started at Mile 2. And the only portajohn on the course was at Mile 4, which didn't matter anyway, because I didn't procure a tampon until the turnaround. Then another 2.5 miles back to the portapotty. I don't know if you've ever tried to run while cramping and having to pee, but it's pretty much impossible. And this is how I learned that (1) these shoes weren't made for walking (two huge blisters) and (2) my running muscles are definitely MUCH better trained than my walking muscles.


5. What Made Me a Gutsy Broad Today
You know what takes guts? Insisting on walking all the way to the finish even when the sweep vehicle (AKA DFL-Wagon) pulls up behind you at Mile 4 of a half-marathon. Had this exact thing with my ovaries not stopped me from finishing Buffalo Springs 70.3 in 2006, I might have thought seriously about getting in that car and calling it a day.

But I had a bone to pick with both the distance and my ovaries. TAKE THAT BIATCHES!

P.S. So...doubling this distance in two weeks? It's a little unsettling, to put it mildly.

No Free Passes Between Gutsy Broads

Yes, this is LOOONG overdue. No excuses besides simply not being in a writing mood. *shrugs* What can I say? It's been a whirlwind month.

In Part Two of the Multi-Sport Athlete Exchange Program (Part One: Dam-to-Dam), Danielle came out to the east side of Iowa and joined me for the Lake Geode Challenge.

It should be obvious by now that recounting the minutiae of race day kinda bores me, and during this race I decided on a truncated form for race reports. HOWEVER, this particular day wound up being one of those turning-point kinds of races, so I actually have something to say about this one.

It was my first tri of the season (I couldn't get to the QC tri for the flood) and the first day back from strep. I was going to treat it like a long training day (I was only looking to finish somewhere close to my average paces without being too miserable and/or collapsing).

And then late on Mile 5 of the 10K run, I entered the race.

The Lake Geode run course is mercilessly hilly. I unapologetically walked all the hills -- until the approach to the Mile 6 sign. Here, I heard the footsteps of the two women approaching. I said to myself, "No free passes," and started to run again. They eventually passed me, but I kept them within reach.

I re-passed them as we approached the finish chute. And then, inexplicably, this gutsy broad re-re-passed in a dead sprint, and of course I gave chase! In the end, I ran out of pavement and lost 2nd place in our age group by one foot.

The irony is that she and I were easily 8th and 9th from last in this race overall. I had no illusions about where we were in the pack, and figured placing/hardware was out of the question. But, dammit, neither one of us was going to let the other get a "free pass" especially not that close to the finish line. And even though I "lost," I am so grateful to that woman -- that gutsy broad -- who made me dig deep and enter that race, if even for the last moments, because she lit a fire in me that I had almost forgotten about. We high-fived on the other side of the line as I gave her heartfelt congratulations. Forget Inner Ass-Kicker, she helped me rediscover my own Inner Gutsy Broad -- who is way tougher, hands down.

When I got home I watched this clip a few times, reveling in my renewed competitive, yet appreciative spirit and shed a few tears of recognition at the final voiceover:



To be clear, I don't put myself on the same level as these elite athletes, but stripped down to the least common denominator, their moment was our moment writ large. For me, this drive is part of what makes me an athlete. Yes, triathlon is sometimes about going the distance, other times about the competition, but at its best about digging deeper after you thought you had nothing left.

So thank you, Stephanie May of Somewhere in Iowa for making me dig deep that day and energizing my inner athlete. But thanks especially for helping me re-discover my Inner Gutsy Broad, who admires yours...and is hot on your heels! :D

Cinco Du Mayo 2008, pt. 2

Okay, I will start off by saying that the course was basically flat and obviously fast.

BUT

I averaged 18.0 mph -- still slow relative to the rest of the field, but a nice shot in the arm to start the season, nonetheless.

Splits:
Run1: 20:10 11:12/mile
Bike: 36:44 18.0 mph
T2: 1:21
Run2: 19:53 11:03/mile

Oh yeah, and my shins were acting up the whole time, so I expect that abysmal run pace to improve by the next race.

Opening Day -- Cinco Du Mayo 2008

Wow! What a day! A lot of firsts:

Today was my first multisport event of the 2008 season, my first true duathlon ever, and Lucy Q's racing debut. She showed herself well (and pretty much paid for herself in numbers of peeps passed, which I will discuss momentarily).

First of all, I got pulled over for speeding on my way to the event -- and got off with a warning! (That NEVER happens to me -- I always end up with a ticket, but I suspect that turning off the gangsta rap that I had blaring probably helped.) I was a little worried about what that might augur for the race...in the end it's probably just ironic, as I am slow-ass-slow on foot.

Clothing Removal Required to Have a Good Time
At last! I am vindicated for the Jermaine Stewart Debacle! Despite being chilly in Iowa City when I left this morning, it was surprisingly warm (and sunny and perfect overall) in the Quad Cities and I quickly realized I was wearing WAY too many clothes. I have to admit, I did not plan well for this: I was wearing full tights, capris, a tank, a long sleeve shirt, AND a windbreaker. Luckily, I brought a short sleeve jersey along, but I left a pair of bike shorts sitting on my bed. What to do? Well...I decided not overheating was a fair trade-off for no butt padding. Yup, I went commando under my capris. BUT I was temperature-comfy and I didn't really notice the lack of padding.

Lucy Q -- My Trusty Steed
After a standard-issue out-&-back run, I hopped on my bike and took off for the 17K ride. It was mostly on quiet country roads, and the last few miles had a pesky headwind. I don't know what kind of crazy mojo I've got going for me all of a sudden, but I not only managed a 15+ mph avg (official times forthcoming), I PASSED TEN PEOPLE on the bike leg!!! (You better believe I was counting) It's one thing to pass a bunch of other women, but I will admit, I felt a special kind of joy when I picked off those last three guys -- going 17-22 mph!!! Even though two of them passed me again on the run, passing on the bike is a triumph I hardly ever experience. Certainly not 10 times in a short race and certainly not when there is a headwind. Oh Lucy Q, I love you!

We Ain't in New Mexico Anymore
One thing I noticed at this race is that peeps don't talk here. I mean, I've spent a LOT of time at the back of the pack. In New Mexico, we're all back there cheering for each other and giving supportive words when we pass, or on approach to turn-arounds, etc. Frankly, that was one of the most pleasant surprises when I first started -- it certainly made it easier to continue in the activity. But there was significantly less of that going on here. Except for the cheers I gave people, I don't know how many of the athletes would have said anything. Of course, the volunteers and spectators were amazing with the cheering, but I was left scratching my head about the relative silence of the other participants. Maybe this race had a lot of super-newbies who don't yet know to do that. *shrugs*

So...I finished with a time of 1:18:04. I forgot to hit my watch for splits, so I'll update that as soon as the race organizers post their results. I am chomping at the bit to find out how fast I rode. (Also forgot to zero out my computer -- D'oh!)

Happy day!

Music Monday 2.25.08

But first, an unplanned race report:

Okay, here's the thing: I went to Davenport yesterday to do an observation for one of my classes (Cultural Analyses of Sport). All I was going to do was observe "pre-race behaviors" prior to the start of the 4-mi Chili Chase run/walk.

It was simple enough. Go, observe, write, come home. Then the weather was so nice (a balmy 36, clear skies), I could smell the chili cooking, and hey--everyone else was doing it!

So I ran.

It was my first REAL run since the marathon in December. I had the lowest of expectations: I didn't know if I'd be able to run the whole thing; I didn't know how fast I'd be able to go (was half.

I am happy to report that I ran the whole thing and only lost about a minute off my pace in the last three months of no running. All things considered, I'm thrilled.

Splits
Mile 1: 11:34
Mile 2: 11:28
Mile 3: 11:37
Mile 4: 10:43
Finish Time: 45:02

And without further ado...here are your tunes:

The Sun Made Me Do It (Jazzy, Sunny Peer Pressure Tracks)

Everybody's Jumpin'
Dave Brubeck Quartet

Powder Your Face with Sunshine
Dean Martin

Miles Runs the Voodoo Down
Miles Davis

You Can Run
Bill Frisell

Orange Colored Sky
Natalie Cole

Joy Ride
Ray Charles

Sunday
Ben Webster

Latin Jazz Detour:

Day Tripper
Mongo Santamaria

Weekend Bizarre
New Cool Collective

California Dreaming
Kymaera

Cantaloupe Island
Pucho & His Latin Soul Brothers

Lessons in 26.2

Ah...the long-overdue race report:

On December 2, 2007, I finished my first marathon. The mile-by-mile account was half-finished for a long time and not all that interesting. Instead, I want to share the enduring memories from this experience – by way of quotes and t-shirts.

First things first: I want to give a heartfelt thanks to my friends, Scott and Ana, for taking such good care of me both physically and mentally in the days surrounding this race. IMHO, having this kind of support is just as important as training. (In my case, it was a good substitute!)

Distance Creep – Last year, GeekGirl and AndraSue wrote about this phenomenon. Even though my training leading up to race day had been spotty, I still fell victim to The Creep. Once 140.6 was on the table, 26.2 seemed somehow lesser, like it wasn’t a big deal. Even though I didn’t know if I could finish, and even though I thought I would start hurting at mile 13, I didn’t feel like anything about me would fundamentally change if and when I crossed the finish line.

Oddly enough, this attitude toward the distance kept me calm at the start line (I have dry-heaved at the start of more than one race). It also took DNF off the table. I knew that only an injury or a freak storm would keep me from the finish line, even if I had to crawl.

And then I took walking off the table as well.

The start line is probably no place to start setting goals, but just before the gun went off a little voice in my head said, “You know you’re going to finish – wouldn’t it be great if you RAN the whole thing?”

So I did. And it was.

The last 10K: "The marathon's about being in contention over the last 10K. That's when it's about what you have in your core. You have run all the strength, all the superficial fitness out of yourself, and it really comes down to what's left inside you. To be able to draw deep and pull something out of yourself is one of the most tremendous things about the marathon." - Rob de Castella

So I’m obviously not a contender of any sort, but this thing about the last 10K is no joke. (I've also seen shirts that say a marathon is just a 10K with a 20-mile warm-up -- also true.) Once I hit Mile 20, my mind started checking out of the race. All I could think was "All right! Just another 10K and you're done -- you've done that before." This is when the real pain started to set in.

Scott cheered for me on the course at miles 18, 20, and 22. Boy, was I glad to see him! At Mile 18 he said, "Hey, you're really going to finish this thing!" At mile 18 I agreed -- I still felt pretty good. Mile 20 was a little different. I honestly didn't know for certain if I would finish between Miles 20-24. There were moments when I thought, "I have to keep running because my muscles will implode if I walk." And "How lame would it be for me to DNF at Mile 24?" Mostly I thought, "How on earth am I going to do this AFTER riding 112 miles?" But I kept moving and about 10 minutes later I reached Mile 25 and then it was ON.

Remember what I said before about The Creep? It completely disappears at Mile 26. When I got there and could hear the finish line around the corner, I picked up the pace -- partly to get the damned thing over with, and partly to look like a "real runner" as I crossed the line, if only in my head. Thoughts of "I really did this" emerged.

The Last Point-Two: The CIM course makes two left turns at the end, each a block apart. After the last turn, you have one city block between you and the finish line. Whenever I imagine crossing the finish line at Ironman, I know I will weep. Perhaps it was The Creep, but I only thought I would feel a moderate sense of accomplishment crossing the line for this race. But when I caught sight of the finish banner, I teared up a little. Then the announcer called me by name -- which I did not expect at all. My arms shot up in a victory-v and a smile washed over my face.

For all the mind tricks and nay-saying -- I DID IT and it felt FANTASTIC! My inner ass-kicker moved a little closer to the surface!

Chip time: 5:21

Is it bad that I'm happy about beating Katie Holmes' time by 8 minutes? I'm going to say no.

Parting Thought: Scott drove me to the start line in Folsom. He said, "You know, we live at mile 21 or 22 and we have been on the FREEWAY driving to where this thing starts for A WHILE now...I can't believe you're going to cover this distance on foot."

Believe it.

I Am My Own Nemesis

So I got up, had breakfast, got all dolled up in my running outfit and gathered my things: sunglasses, visor, race number, safety pins, gels. With my hands full, I told the dogs to be good little babies and then closed the door behind me.

Notice anything missing from that list?

KEYS! Sonuva!

That's right. I locked myself out and by the time the locksmith worked his magic, I missed the race by 10 minutes. What an idiot I am.

I managed to pull a hip flexor last week and NOT stay off of it (beautiful weather + lure of ultimate = painful ultimate). SOOO, it is probably a good thing for me to have missed this race to give myself a little more time to heal. (I've got a bag of ice tucked into my shorts right now.)

Missing this race means I must do the Des Moines half-mary in a couple weeks -- and I should learn the lesson of staying away from sprinting sports for a little while.

Double-dog dang. :(

DFL > DNF > DNS > Injury

Solon Spartan Fund Run 10K -- 1:07/10:47 pace
3rd place W 30-39
Half-assed ultimate for about an hour


Whew! What a day! I took 2:13 off my pace since my last race (woo-hoo). Yes, I was DFL, but the guy in front of me was only ahead by about :45+ seconds, so it wasn't embarrassing. Also, I had to stop to tie my shoe twice, which is how he got away from me (that's what I'm telling myself). Besides, only two other women aged 30-39 even bothered coming out yesterday. That's gotta count for something, right? (I'm sure it has nothing to do with the tri today at the same site...)

It was a great course -- through a little bit of town and then out and back on a lakeside nature trail. Lovely!

But wait, there's more!

DOOR PRIZES!! I won a $25 gift certificate to the local running shop! BONUS!

Anyway, I think all this running is finally catching up to my tendons, though...at mile three a mystery pain appeared on the inside of both my legs, about halfway down the shin. It went away after about a mile, but when I went to ultimate, it got pretty bad whenever I would take off. I toughed out the first game (which really was rough) before finally hanging it up for the day. It feels like someone took a metal pipe and smacked me across the insides of my shins.

Sadly, I think I'll have to skip a few days of ultimate to give myself a chance to heal. I'll see how some short runs go later on this week...*sigh* this stinks.

Note to Self: Don't Mess With Fergie

Okay the REAL name of the 5K I did today was the "Team Fergalicious 5K" and was organized by the West Branch HS girls track team. Their coach is Harlan Ferguson, hence the name. (High school girls...is there anything they can't they do?)

Yes, I did this race for the T-shirt. Yes, I do a little dance to this song. If you want my real stand on Fergie, check out my other blog. And yes, I did this race as part of an evil scheme to shamelessly kick off my other blog. (All right, that's three links in a row. CLICK 'EM, dangit!)

Now back to the race report.

Lesson # 1: You should never, EVER badmouth a race's namesake before the event (told you I was shameless). She paid me back, but good. :(

Start Line: Fergie Strikes Back

As the runners gathered at the start line, there were four girls holding pace signs to organize us. FOUR signs: 5 min, 6 min, 7 min, 8 min. THAT'S IT. No "9-plus" or "walkers." Nope. About half the field looked at each other and joked about how many more signs they needed. Self-deprecating, yes. Indignant? Maybe a little.

Mile 1: They Chose the Wrong Name

(I don't have splits because the mileage wasn't marked on the course.) Sure, I know the girls wanted to honor their coach by naming the race for him (kinda), but they should've called it the Dolly Parton 5K because this course had some of the biggest hills I've encountered in a road race. Though I started feeling good and strong, there were three big hills in the first mile alone -- which I ran up -- that kicked my butt. (Dammit Fergie!)

Mile 2 (I guess): Mini Hills of Death
When I rounded the corner and saw yet another big hill ahead of me, I knew that Triowa and Fergie were now in cahoots (though the weather was PERFECT). I weighed the time I'd lose against the energy I'd save by walking. I began walking up the hills.

Lesson #2: Head for the hills. So far, I've been running on a relatively flat route -- which is easily remedied by simply making a right turn instead of a left when I start. This is just silly anyway, because I KNOW that Iowa is NOT FLAT.

Mile 3: Back to Main Street

That's all. Nothing exciting happened at the end. The runners in front of me were too far ahead to catch, so even though I picked up the pace at the end, I didn't sprint. As with most races, the runners were gathered around the finish chute and cheered heartily for every last person. I finished with a time of 38:54 -- just shy of 13:00/mile. Ugh.

Lesson #3: Seriously, take to the hills.

So...this was a fun little race. Even though the hills were a bit of a grunt-fest, it was a fun course and West Branch is a lovely town. I'll definitely hit this one up again next year --I've set the bar pretty low for improvement.

Oh yeah...did I mention I have another blog? :D

Moonlight Chase 2007

A Good Ol' Fashioned Street Party!

I drove about 45 minutes east to the small town of Eldridge, Iowa. This is a 4-mile night run through town with tiki torches and luminarias lining the entire course. On this night, if you live in Eldridge, there are exactly three options:

1. Run/walk this race.

2. Eat, drink, and be merry at the downtown street party.

3. Cheer, play music, fire up your Christmas lights, and/or hose off athletes along the route (which is BY FAR the coolest thing EVER).

This guy did the first two, but not in order. I watched this guy drink two beers in the half-hour before the race. Each entrant got (among other things) a free beer token, so I think he cashed in his own and his buddy's at 8:30 (start time was 9:00pm). I dunno, maybe that was his interpretation of carbo loading and being a clydesdale. Highly bloggable, nonetheless.

So anywho...you all know I was sick earlier this week. I was worried that I would have to skip this or else walk it. By some small miracle, I was well enough to run the whole thing! (Thank you, thank you very much.)

Here's the breakdown:

Mile 1: Wisteria Lane (11:17)

The start line is basically the end of downtown, so you head into residential areas immediately. This stretch is best described as Wisteria Lane -- the homes were obviously new, but looked like middle America all the way. People were out cheering, but for the most part it seemed like a fairly sedate affair. I was most struck by the extraordinary number of kids in this race. Awesome! (Almost as awesome as Kelly, who completed her first tri on Saturday.) In this first mile, the rowdiest people were the six junior high girls running near me doing exactly what I did at their age: shout/sing silly songs and then break out into shrill giggles. (I have faith that Kelly had on her game face and kept the shrill giggling to a minimum -- eye of the tiger!)

Mile 2: Let's Get This Party Started! (11:58)

Alright, here's where things started to get interesting. In a slightly older section of houses, more people were out. There seemed to be designated PA music providers on every block (I heard Pour Some Sugar on Me, Crazy Train, and Smoke on the Water). This was the first of many Christmas light sightings, and there was even a little jazz combo of high school kids on one corner playing Chameleon.

Mile 3: Something's Afoot (13:23)

Okay, it was muggy and I was starting to get tired on top of drenched with sweat. Plus, for a "fast and flat course," there was this big ol' hill in the middle of it! "The only hill in Eldridge," one guy yelled as we ran past. By this time, there seemed to be a lot more people out in their yards, lots more people with their garden hoses (thank God!), and a little more inebriation.

Mile 4: The Wheels Come Off (10:20)

I got faster and sweatier; the crowd got drunker and funnier. A little ways past the last water hand-off was a string of guys holding their beers out. In the last half-mile, a few of them actually ran in with us. Anyway, I picked up the pace and moved up through the crowd. Then in the last 220m, I managed to pick off another 5 or 6 peeps for a finish of 46:55 and average pace of 11:43. :I

Between the sick and the not training, I'm just happy I was able to run the whole thing and still feel good today. I'm also thrilled that I felt good enough to run hard at the end. But I'm not sure what to think of my time and/or pace. I've definitely slowed down, but I don't know which of the two is responsible (a little of both, I suspect).

Overall, though, I will most remember what a neat community experience Eldridge offered up. I will definitely return next year!

Cornman Tri 2007

I got to meet Duane and his family! What a swell guy! I even got to see him quite a bit on the course, which was a nice boostie on what was a really challenging day.

Time for some more math:

Moving - 3 weeks of training + the Hill of Death + more hills + wind = Ugh Fest '07

...and a finish time of 2:12 -- on a SPRINT!

All right, I get it. I have to train.

Not Just a River in Egypt

In the days leading up to this thing, I was in a lot of denial. even as I packed my stuff (the night BEFORE!!) I still didn't believe I was actually going to go through with it. And the next morning, as I was loading the car and driving away...even as I set up my transition area, I still could not believe that I was going to participate in this race. It wasn't until I was in the water getting pummelled (for the first time ever) that I accepted my fate. "I guess I'm doing this," I told myself, finally.

Swim ~12 minutes

Ugh Fest begins. This is the first time I've done an open water swim that was actually crowded. Even at IMAZ I had plenty of space to just SWIM. I spent a good portion of the first 100m doing a breast-stroke/sculling/treading water because I got myself stuck in a clump that moved just slightly slower than me.

Bike ~1:17 (times are approximate because my HRM does not have a lap function -- WTF?!)

I passed Duane just before the Hill of Death. Lots of people walked their bikes up this thing. I'm proud to say that I stayed on my bike and pedaled the whole thing. Apparently even that is an accomplishment becuase I saw a woman about 10 yards ahead of me just completely fall off of her bike and into the tall reeds (you know, when you're clipped in and going _really_ slow and you just lose it?).

Between the hills and the wind (which I won't complain about because it was the only thing keeping the heat at bay) I went slow enough to reacquaint myself with the color green (lots of it, as far as the eye can see) after a decade in the desert's hazel beauty. I also got acquainted with Iowa's aroma: earthy, rich...with a splash of swampy and a hint of pig farm. In wine terms: not a great finish.

Run ~43 minutes

Then I went on a leisurely, 5K stroll. I don't think I can really call this a run, because I only ran about a third of it. But here's something amazing: even walking, I managed to pass someone. Short and stumpy with stubby legs PASSED a guy!

Not Easy Being Green

There should be a sign at the Iowa border saying you are about to enter the world's largest corn maze, and that you had better have a map. The highways here often overlap in some sections...I got lost coming home! SONUVA!

Stevens Tri 2007: NincomPOOPED

I'd say this day was a slice of chaos pie (home-baked!) topped with tiny victory sprinkles.


First of all, to set yourself up for success, pack the night before rather than 15 minutes before you head out the door. I'm begging you. I DID think about packing the night before...but then I thought "Oh, I know where all my stuff is...it'll be fine." NO. No, it won't.

Here's what I forgot:

• floor pump
• extra CO2 cartridges
• extra nutrition
• SOCKS!

I train indoors on my bike without socks, so the big worry was whether the run would be doable. It was; I didn't feel any discomfort.

Here's how the event went down:

RUN: 7K -- 43:??

What?! The Web said 5K! Sonuva! You know, the extra mile just isn't my style. (Dibs on T-shirt rights!) Also, it was surpisingly hot out there...just as surprisingly, I wasn't giddy or nervous at all before this race. I'm usually so worked up I can't sleep the night before and I almost puke at the start line. Perhaps a little worry would have helped a little with the packing situation.

The WSMR courses always tend to be a little short (this one was only 4.0 miles) and if my calculations are correct, I managed to keep a sub-11:00-ish pace, which was my goal given my Pb legs, so I'm fine with it.

Bike: 35K -- 1:40:??

So why don't I know my exact splits? Because I haven't sat down to figure out how to do laps on my new hrm AND I put my front wheel on backwards (!) so the sensor was on the wrong side. (I TOLD you I was a nincompoop.) For the first 5K, I was riding blind, as it were. I had no idea how fast (or slow) I was going. It seemed pretty slow to me, so I actually GOT OFF MY BIKE to see if my tires were fully inflated.

This is huge. I never do this. At my last tri, I rode 12 miles on a mushy back tire and last summer, I rode most of a half-iron on a mushy front tire. Why? Because I'm so afraid that whatever problem exists will get worse if I try to "handle" it. So I just avoid it. But not this day. I actually did some investigating.

This is when I discovered the front tire was mushy and the wheel was on backwards. I used the only CO2 cartridge in my seatpack...fixed and fixed. And off I went, a little nervous about whether I might need more air later. (Pack the night before. The Night Before!)

Victory Sprinkles

I'm really okay with my bike split. I haven't been doing much riding lately, and I thought this would take me closer to two hours. The slopes out here are deceptive, but on parts that have taken me down below 10mph in the past, I was able to go 13-15mph!

AND THEN...late on the bike...I passed someone! Amazing!

Mostly, I am happy with being able to work hard and go fast (for me) so long and so late on the course. The last 6 miles are uphill and especially miserable (for me), but I kept grinding away.

Swim: 400m -- about 9 minutes

Blisters. Big ones. On the insides of both of my feet. I felt the skin flapping in the water. Never, ever run without socks again.

More victory sprinkles: when I got in the water, this guy was about 125m ahead of me. (At WSMR, the swim is in a 25m pool -- you go up and back in each of 8 lanes for a total of 400m.) I caught and PASSED him at 325m! Okay, he wasn't so much swimming as much as he was floating and waving his limbs. I really HAD to pass this guy.

Total time: 2:38:17

Hmmm...I wonder what would happen if I buckled down and got serious about this.

Next goal: set the tone with a respectable debut at the Cornman Tri in IOWA!

Nat'l Trails Day Run (8.1 miles)

ZOINKS!!! Trail running at 8000 feet is FREAKIN' HARD!

Parked and walked up the hill to registration -- winded! You know you're in trouble when the race organizers have THREE ambulances on hand. This is going to be miserable. (Start/finish: 8665 ft. Low point/mile 5: 7729 ft.)

Mile 1: 13:--

Surprisingly enough...I was able to run without gasping for air. Sure it was downhill, but still. Things were going well...until the woman in front of me face-planted in the middle of the trail. She was this tiny little quasi-anorexic thing ( I thought she was a 14 year-old boy). Then after she dusted herself off, she took two more steps and DID IT AGAIN. At first, I thought she was kidding. Then I feared she would just shatter right in front of me. I decided to heed her lesson and slow my truck down. Shins burning.

Mile 2: 22:--
Did I just get faster? Amazing. Still feeling good. Still breathing lightly. This part of the trail was gorgeous -- a tunnel of green under the trees! Then the trail went through this drainage culvert that went under the highway. The race organizers placed lanterns in there, but mostly, it was a low tunnel of gnats and darkness and seeping water. CREEPY! Then the woman in front of me (a different one) says "I just don't want to get trapped by a bear in here!"

For crying out loud! I'm already afraid of the dark...then she goes and adds bears to the mix! I had forgotten we were in bear country (Smokey Bear, as a matter of fact). For the next half-mile I worried about whether my fruity deodorant might be mistaken for bear candy. (I guess it wasn't. Lucky me.)

Mile 3: 43:53
The two miles of downhill gave way to a healthy uphill section. After a stop at the port-O-john, a handful of WALKERS were ahead of me. Luckily, the trail started downhill again, and I regained my dignity place ahead of them.

Mile 5: 1:05

So if I take the Mile-3 walk break out of the mix, I'm still doing all right pacewise -- I can run AND breathe. I really didn't think I'd be going much faster than about 15-minute miles all the way up here in the stratosphere, but this is the low spot in the course. No place to go but right back up.

Miles 6-8: The Wheels Come Off

Mile 6: Uphill...I can only run for about 30 seconds at a time before I toss up a lung.

Mile 7: Whoa. This is steep. I'd better walk.

Mile 8: Are you friggin' kidding me?! Get me on belay!

It took me just as long to cover the last three miles as it did to cover the first five. I had a little non-cough going on this last part-- just a little something that stuck on my uvula and could not be coughed or ahem-ed off. Mostly annoying.

The Last Point-One: I RAN BABY!
No way was I going to walk across the finish line. I dug deep and ran s.l.o.w.l.y. up the last bit of the trail, past two other runners, and across the line at 2:07:31.

I realize this is pretty slow for eight miles, but between the terrain and the altitude, I had no way to gauge what a "reasonable" time would be.

I half expected to take more than three hours to do this, and not be able to run at all, so this went WAY better than expected. Frankly, I was aspiring for dead last because it was better than dead. There were at least four runners behind me...I admit a very tall walker passed me, but what am I supposed to do with my stubby legs?

All in all, a GREAT experience -- I'm really happy I took it on. But honestly, I'm more happy that I get to go back to the easy stuff -- triathlon!