Transitions: Turning over

People transition differently. But we all have to do it.

Triathletes spend the least amount of time training for transitions, but when you think about it, the transition area is a symbolic place where we actually spend a lot of time agonizing over our race. We spend so much time worrying about how to transition - what to wear, what to eat, when to apply sunscreen? Will be get out of our wet suit without a calf cramp? Will my neighbor have racked their bike too close? When do I mount my bike? How fast can I lace my running shoes?

Typically, when you leave the transition area to start the swim, your area is perfectly set up with everything in place that you could need for the day. But, when you actually go through the transition - it's a total cluster f@#$ mess. Your legs have been swimming/biking for so long that you can barely run, you are trying to remember where to go, and there are other people running all over the place - everyone is trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. It's easy to leave important items behind, or go through the "Run out" shoot still wearing a bike helmet.

Another difficult part of the transition is what I like to call the 'turn over'. Although you are physically out of the transition area, you are now asking your body to become accustomed to doing another activity. It's a strange feeling, and no matter how good of a cyclist or runner you think you are, riding in wet clothes, and pounding the pavement after being on a bike just feels strange. Sometimes it can be a little painful. I've definitely almost fallen over while mounting my bike, or had numb toes for the first few miles of a run. It doesn't feel good. I like to do brick workouts in order to be prepared for the uncomfortable sensation of switching events, but the strangeness never quite goes away completely. It takes a couple of miles before I feel adjusted to the new movements in my body.

Life transitions are harder because you aren't well trained for them. Moreover, it's possible you didn't even sign up for this shit. Or, if you are lucky, you believe this transition will lead to better things. Sometimes it takes months or even years to even get into a transition. But, eventually you know, you can't swim forever - you've got to get out - especially when there are sharks in the water. It doesn't matter how right, or impactful the decision might be: it's still chaotic and painful. Like your transition area - it was fine when you left it, and now you can't find anything, or you can't decide what to take and what to leave behind.

Even after you make the change, part of you still longs to be back where you were, doing what you were once comfortable doing. Like turning over in an event, there is the part of the transition where you think you are doing okay, and everything feels pretty good. Suddenly, you get a cramp or a side stitch and you feel like you can't go any further. You tend to talk negatively to yourself, but the thought of giving up is not an option - you must keep going. Usually you reach out for something to console you - food, or a friend.

The other issue with life transitions is other people. In individual sports, you only worry about yourself in relationship to your competitors. In life, every decision you make in transition can affect others as much as it affects you.

But the fact remains, you have to move on. The race is not over.

Wildest Race Report Ever: Wildflower Long Course

My secret cheering squad showed up on the wrong day. They didn't know I was racing the long course this year. Oh well, it was nice that they thought about me. (Just kidding, they were cheering for another SB.)

Despite changes to 2014 Wildflower Triathlon course due to the drought, I thought the year of the swim, run, bike, run was well organized. Kudos to Tri California for executing the alternate course. I worked at a college for seven years and I know how difficult it is to get 18-21 year-old people (volunteers) to give you clear directions. But, the students from Cal Poly seemed to know what was going on, even if they were slightly hung over. Mucho appreciado.

PRE-RACE
If you are a triathlete and you did not know there were course changes at Wildflower this year due to drought conditions, then you are clearly living in a hole. But, if you are a triathlete who raced Wildflower, and found out about the course changes while setting up your transition area on Friday. Wow. Just wow. Clearly these are the people who are angry when TSA makes them throw out their gigantic shampoo bottles from their carry-on bags at the airport. Haven't we been carrying around three ounce bottles for at least ten years now? Granted, the T1A, T1B transition change did make my mind spin a bit. But, I knew there would be two sets of gear, two sets of running shoes, and had mentally prepared myself for a very long transition from swim to bike.

No one really wants to hear what time I got up or what I ate. But, the transition area closed at 8:00 AM, and my wave didn't start until 9:25 AM, so I had to get up early and eat two breakfasts.

SWIM - 1.2 miles
The swim at Harris Creek was reminiscent of the regular Wildflower swim, but because the water was so low, it started literally on the edge of the boat ramp in a vat of mud sludge. Heading out on the swim, the water was black and so thick that you could not see the bubbles of the person swimming in front of you. About 100 yards out, it cleared up and was the typical brown, tolerable water of Lake San Antonio.

During the swim I had some sighting issues, and a boat had to yell at me to get back on course again. My right side is definitely stronger, but unfortunately it cause me to pull right. I wasn't going for a fast swim time, nor did I get one. It wasn't my absolute worst swim ever, but I could have saved myself three minutes with a few more sightings. All I could think was - "Keep your head down, and go!"

RUN - 2.2 miles
Everyone left the water with a muddy dirt beard. Luckily a nice woman out of the swim transition area yelled, "Oh, honey, you have a beard, wipe your face!" God bless that woman.

The run out of T1A was actually great. I kept up about a 8:30/45 pace, which I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain for much of the regular run. There was some sand that caused a slow down, and a hill back up to the bike transition area, but generally, I was feeling good.

BIKE - 56 miles
The bike ride was amazing. My goal was to be comfortable in the saddle, but as consistent as possible without putting too much burn on the legs to save myself for the run. I also wanted to eat more, and was able to wolf down two Clif Bars and a gel during the ride. Over Wildflower training weekend, I completed the course in about four hours. Because I typically race better than I train, I figured it would take me anywhere between 3:45 and 3:15. My total time was just under 3:30.

I've never yelled "On your left!" so much on a bike ride in my life. Mostly, I blame my slow swim time, but also - MOVE OVER, PEOPLE!! I crossed the center line at least four times in the first 25 miles of the ride which is illegal, and actually pretty dangerous. But, it was either that, or putting on the breaks, so I took a chance. Luckily everyone was safe, and I didn't receive a penalty.

My left hip and calf were really tight for the first part of the ride, but at mile 30 I was on fire. I got to the bumpy but flat section of the course, and my chain jumped. I lost about a minute to catch my breath and get the chain back on, but no mechanical issues for the rest of the course.

At the beginning of Nasty Grade, there is a sign that reads, "All Vehicles Must Be Inspected for Mussels." Because I am a nerd, I had to make a joke about, "Show me your muscles!" Fortunately, a fellow cyclist obliged by giving me his best muscle pose. The worst sections of the bike course, in my opinion, do not include Nasty Grade at all. The first 20 miles seem to take for-freakin-ever especially because of the slow climb up Beach Hill. (I'm sorry for the Olympic competitors who had to run up that thing. Woah.) But, the absolute worst part is the series of bumps after Nasty Grade. I knew there was still a chunk of the ride to be had with 16 miles left.

I felt amazing going down Lynch Hill and into the BIKE IN chute. So happy to had nailed that ride and still feel good. I could have ended the day right there, but figured I should stick out the impending horror run. Everyone else was doing it.

RUN - 10.9 miles
There are plenty of hills on the run that I would have typically run, but I didn't want to bonk. I knew before the race that I would not attempt to run the steepest hills, because it would waste energy. A few people tried to maintain a gait up those hills, and they quickly started to fall behind. Instead of thinking of them as "hills" I actually thought of them as "walking opportunities." Unfortunately I may have made a few easier grades walking opportunities as well, and I should have pushed through. But, my goal was to complete the race.

A woman I met in transition that morning started off really strong in the run and took me over in the first three miles. I could see her ahead most of the time, which motivated me to keep going. She was walking a bit too, as was everyone else, but it allowed me someone in the distance to pace.

I only saw one naked person on the run course. Unacceptable! He was WAY up on top of a hill and mostly out of sight. So much for the naked aid station - everyone at the aid stations were fully clothed. But, when a fully clothed person gave me ice on the course, I started to feel a hell of a lot better. I savored every bite of that cold-water goodness, except for the pieces I threw into my sports bra. I wanted more, so I took some pieces out of my sports bra and ate them. Salty and delicious. Are you gagging now?

The flat part on the course that I was so looking forward to did not disappoint. I heard my name yelled from my friends watching from their camp sites. It's amazing how much a few humans who know your name can make all of the difference. The end was near.

I knew a 6:30 finishing time was slipping away in the last three miles of the run, but all I could think about was the run down Lynch. I saw the woman I had been following while going to Lynch and decided to take the last negative incline as an opportunity to catch her. I hammered down Lynch, and finished one step ahead in BOR fashion (Beat One Runner). We followed our victorious race-end with a big sweaty hug. At that moment, really no one but you and the people on the course understand what you've gone through for the past six+ hours.

FINALE
It's been a tough winter for me, both physically and emotionally. Lots of ups and downs: a knee injury, a couple of minor DNF (did not finish) races, re-learning a swim stroke, paired with a half marathon personal record, and lots of glorious hill rides.

Wildflower was as good/bad as I expected. There are things that could have gone a lot better, but I am in no way disappointed. There is still the rest of the season to be had!

Wildflower, I will finish you - again.

Wildflower - Here it comes!

Wildflower Olympic 2013 was not my best race. This year, I'm upping the ante with the long course. But, mostly, I just want to finish. (Photo credit: Awesome stranger who took this photo.)

Long before the world of Ironman 70.3, there was Wildflower. I read this article after completing the Olympic course last year, and it really inspired me to try the long course in 2014. Before Ironman dominated the long course triathlon scene, Wildflower, or 'The Woodstock of Triathlons,' kind of ruled. Now Vineman 70.3 will sell out in 5 minutes, but Wildflower always has plenty of entries available.

But, that's a gripe for a later post...

Someone told me recently, that even after doing the course multiple times, they've never done Wildflower the 'right' way. Each and every time, something is always off. Then, this video was recently released. "If you can do a half here (Wildflower), then you can do a full Ironman." Really, I kind of hope that is not true. I have not done enough training for a full Ironman.

This year, there is a new and exciting twist on the Wildflower course: Due to low water levels at Lake San Antonio, the swim has been moved two miles to Harris Creek. Now the only way to get to the transition area is to run 2.2 miles back to the first transition. Due to the longest transition in history, they took 2.2 miles off of the run course. Seems fair.

I've decided to go into this event with the "Anything Goes" mindset. It's going to be a long, glorious day. Did I mention 'long?" Seriously, if I think about time, it will ruin me. I must think about finishing.

A few weeks ago, a group from Silicon Valley Tri Club ventured down to Lake San Antonio for a course preview weekend. I was fairly certain I was going to switch my registration to the Olympic course because I didn't feel confident with winter training. After the preview weekend, I was sold - I think I can do this.

Here are some observations I had about the course:

1.) The swim will be a swim. I hope to stay as comfortable as possible and not doubt myself. I didn't do all of those winter swims for nothing!

2.) I need to eat more - in general. Eat when not hungry.

3.) It's going to be hotter than blazes again. Must drink water - multiple sips. Don't guzzle. Sip. A lot.

4.) The 2.2 mile run after the swim could be great. My legs will be fresh, it will be a warm up for the bike, and I'll be happy not to be in the water anymore. So I don't kill my bike ride, I plan to run at an easier pace - faster than my 70.3 run pace, but not a 5k/10k pace either.

5.) On the bike - stay in aero bars as much as possible.

6.) There is a really bumpy part on the bike course. Best to inflate tired slightly lower than the max in order to save my lady bits. I've already replaced my old tires with something more durable, but race-worthy.

7.) Nasty Grade, aka the major bike climb at mile 42, isn't so bad. The worst part of the bike are the climbs AFTER Nasty Grade, when you think you are almost there . . . but you are not . . quite . .  there. . .

8.) The run course is mostly a trail half marathon course. It's going to take me 4 miles for my shins to warm up anyway, so it would follow that the first 4 miles of the run course are the worst. I am prepared to walk, as needed. There is a nice flat section in the middle where I can enjoy the day. I look forward to that.

9.) I want to see naked and drunk people. Last year I didn't see much on the Olympic course. I think they must have partied on the day of the Long Course and stayed in their tents for the Olympic course. Well this year, they had better be fresh. AND since my female 30-39 wave starts late - they had better hold out for the end. I'm ready to have a laugh mid-course, so don't hold back, naked people!

10.) I look forward to the SVTC camp site and aid station. I don't think I'll eat bacon if it is offered to me, but who knows. What sounds disgusting to me now, might look really good at the end of a run.

Due to my current physical shape, the timing (early in the season), and the course. Wildflower will be my toughest challenge yet. I'm ready for anything. Ready to report for duty. Over and out. (I'm going to be out of cell phone range this weekend.)

Being dropped

My riding partner for the Solvang Metric Century ride. Deirdre is a lot faster than me, but she decided to have an 'easy day' of cross-fitness for her Boston Marathon training . She agreed not to drop me, but man, I still had to work for it.

drop

dräp/

verb

1. 1.

   let or make (some one) fall behind

   "The other cyclists were too fast for Susie, and they dropped her."

   
   
2. 2.

   fall behind.

   "I looked over to enjoy the view, and couldn't catch up. I totally got dropped!"

   
   

As a newer cyclist, I've been dropped plenty. Here's the scenario:

You meet up with a group of cyclists for a ride. You think, "This ride will be exiting, fun, hard-core, and there will be some lovely scenery along the way." 

Everyone is chatting before the ride, and so friendly. "This is going to be an awesome day!" 

As you start out on the road, the group generally stays together . .  But, in no time, you are panting to keep up, your front wheel inches further and further from the person in front of you. Maybe you hold back and intend to catch up later, or maybe you stop for a second to check your back tire pressure. . .

and like that . . . they are gone. Every last one of them. You have been dropped.

I went on a club ride last summer from Almaden Park to Morgan Hill that I thought would be a good challenge. Little did I know, that the ride also attracted people who were toward the middle of their Ironman training. The ride started out great, and everything was going fine, until I found myself at the back of the line. And wouldn't you know it - somehow I got off of the back tire, and the other cyclists flew ahead of me like magical unicorns. Suddenly I'm overcome with emotions: I'm a loser, I'm lonely, I hope I know where I'm going etc. Other cyclists spent some time at rest stops along the route. But, I decided the only way to get through this ride was to go through the stops, and just let the group catch up to me again. The ride was personally successful: I got in the miles I needed, I rode with people most of the time, no one had to wait for me, and I only got lost once!

In order to deal with being dropped, I've learned a few things:
1.) Safety: Have the right gear, take a phone, take an ID, and have enough food.
2.) Course: Know the route, and expect to take some detours.
3.) Know yourself: Don't set up for failure, or underestimate abilities either.
4.) Don't blame others: If they are on a different level, that's fine. Do what you can.
5.) Practice: Just keep getting out there, and you'll get better!

After a few years of riding, you typically learn who your best cycling buddies are: who you can keep up with or vice versa, who wants to do the same number of miles, who wants to try the same climbs, etc. But once in awhile a friend takes a confident turn, or takes the steps necessary to improve spectacularly, and unfortunately they are no longer there to wait for you.

And sometimes, this friend is YOU.

I've been dropped numerous times, but I've also dropped some people. Truth be told.

I'm not a mean-spirited person, and I don't intentionally drop people, but I've been out on a stretch of road, comfortable in my saddle, looked back and saw no one. This is a feeling of "Woah, I'm awesome!" paired with "Woah, did I miss a turn?"

In many ways I feel justified in going ahead. Why shouldn't I go at my own pace? I've put a lot of effort into this, and maybe I don't want to have to wait all the time, or have to turn around. But on the other hand I'm not sure if I did something wrong, and it's quite lonely out on the road by yourself.

Clearly being dropped is a proverb for real life too.

Why I won't wear a tutu.

Frills are great for bridal fashion shows when you are 5. Not so great for racing.

SELF Magazine definitely picked on the wrong person for their article, and should not have picked on someone who was making tutus to raise money for cancer charities. That's not cool. But, I agree - the tutu thing is kind of old. That was too kind - The tutu thing is VERY old.

Sorry all you princesses out there. Here are the Top 10 Reasons I won't wear a tutu. (Yes, there are more reasons.)

#1. I don't want to chaff.
#2. It's, um, like so 3 years ago. Um kaaay?
#3. I am not crafty enough to make a tutu. Fabric stores give me the heebie jeebies.
#4. Tuts are for ballerinas. Use the proper equipment for the proper sport. Wouldn't you be like "WTF!" if you saw a ballerina dancing in running shoes?
#5.  They are not wind resistant.
#6. It would take too much time in a transition, and I'm certainly not wearing one while swimming.
#7. Tutus take up too much space in the corral area. We are already wedged in there! Not to mention, it makes me have to run further to get around you.
#8. I believe we need less tutus and more Hawaiian grandmothers at events. Those tutus are really cool.
#9. When I'm racing, I don't want people to see me as a girl. I want them to see me as a female athlete.
#10. I don't need to feel pretty when I run. I want to feel powerful and strong. I'd be better off wearing body armor, but on second thought.. ouch (see #1)

Go ahead and hate. I deserve it. But remember, I'm not hating on cancer survivors, just tutus.  I also raised money for Vineman Cancer Charities last year.

We all have our own way. :)

Suddenly Susan

I said I would cover disappointments in my blog too. So here goes.

Susan is my alter ego, and unlike the Oatmeal's  Blerch, she is not 'the wall' but a bunch of pain and self-loathing. I've had The Blerch. The Blerch tells you when you are tired. It tells you that you don't have any energy left, and should eat snacks! That's probably because you are actually low on blood sugar and you need a cookie. The Blerch is that feeling your body gets when it's heavy, and you feel like you can't move another step. Susan, on the other hand, causes me physical and mental pain. She tells me I'm a piece of crap, and questions why I try at all. Instead of suggesting a cookie, she makes you feel bad for all of the cookies you ate, and calls you an unworthy pig.

According the his creator, the Blerch is a "wretched, lazy beast." (He's kind of cute.)

Susan looks more like this. She is a spiteful B, actively trying to kill me.

By the way, I don't even really eat a lot of snacks. F-it. Maybe I'll start.

I came into triathlon as a runner. Although I found a love for biking, and a non-hate of swimming, the run is still my 'A' part of the race, and where I feel the most comfortable. If I don't feel good on the run, I'm inclined not to do triathlon at all.

I decided to do Wildflower Long Course this year to show the course who's boss! Wildflower 2013 was not my best event. Susan swam with me in some choppy waters, and with the combination of a rented wet suit that was too tight, I hated myself for the entire race. But, at least I still had my legs on the run. This year I wanted to come back, stronger than ever, and conquer that course. This winter I've been able to climb the tallest mountain (ok, not really, but I got up Old La Honda and was pretty stoked), and swam the deepest swimming pool. . .

Swimming: I finally got some stroke coaching through Total Immersion, which is helping me swim more effortlessly. Thanks to Coach Mandy, and Coach Stuart! I've been swimming more slowly in order to get the technique, but feel confident that it will help me be faster and prevent injury in the long haul.

Biking: This winter's pedaling issue has been resolved with some more stretching and rolling. Although it made me back off of my first century bike ride, I had a great metric century ride in Solvang. The day after, I was able to hit the countryside for a decent 10 mile run. The weekend was a good test of my fitness - not quite where I was six weeks before Barb's race last summer, but very good considering the winter and an injury.

Running: A PR at the Kaiser Half Marathon was a surprise start to the season, and I've challenged myself to up the ante at shorter races. I'm finally in the sub-8:00 mode of my running career, where 7:59 feels amazing compared to 8:15, and I'd like to keep it that way. This year was looking pretty stellar.

But, during the March Triathlon Series last Sunday, my run suffered. Then instead of getting tough, Susan decided to run - rather walk - with me. I've never had to walk before. The swim was cold, and my feet were pretty frozen after the bike leg. When I put on my running shoes, it felt like running on peg legs but my endurance felt great, and the pace was good out of the shoot. One mile later, the feeling came back in my toes, as well as a sharp pain in my shins = worst shin splints ever. Yowza! Then my calves started to cramp. For the first time, I hated running. Really hated it.

Now I need to take a step back and think about what to do next. I'm not feeling great about running right now, and I refuse to run that hilly-ass Wildflower course with Susan. She is a B, and needs to be off-loaded. So how do I get rid of her?

Hellyer 10K: Why the hell not?

If you have never done a race put on by Brazen Racing, you are truly missing out. I typically do a few of their trail races in the winter, but skipped out this year so I could put some extra miles on the bike.  Brazen has some fabulous trail runs that are well thought out, challenging, and well organized. Plus, I can't get enough of trail runner fashion. A beanie with tiny shorts, tiny tank and arm warmers? Sign me up!

 If you are a runner who needs some extra hills while training for a road race, or if you just want to do something new, check out the elevation profiles for some of these races. Some of the Brazen courses are really challenging. I've done the Summit Rock 10k and Half Marathon, and it is 2,500 feet of climbing - just enough for this speed junkie. Lake Chabot is also a rad course for a New Year's Eve run, and if you aren't tired yet, you can do the New Year's Day run, which is the same course in the opposite direction.

On the flip, some of Brazen's courses are no more challenging than a road race, but they are out in nature, so you get a wonderful scenery change. If you are tired of running through San Jose (we locals have now done it a million times), you can run through Quarry Lakes, or Sanborn Park, or Hellyer Park.

For those of you who won't run without the guarantee of a t-shirt or medal, their schwag is pretty nice too. The t-shirts usually have a simple design with a cute but determined woodland creature on the front, and they fit nicely. For the Hellyer run, it's a white rabbit. For the Coyote Creek run, it's a Coyote. Badger Cove has a badger, and you get the point. For additional medals, they do quite a few multi-race challenges throughout the year,  like the New Year's Eve/New Year's Day combo. Or you can sign up to be a legendary 'streaker' by doing all of their events (or volunteering) in a year. Brazen does an excellent job of awarding those who come out and support them. It's a great little community.

Brazen has really good post-race food: hot chocolate, coffee, tea, and forget bagels... they have pretzels, candy and apple pie! What, what? For those who don't feel their race deserves dessert, they also have bananas, oranges, and those bagels too.

A couple of friends were doing the Hellyer 10k and half marathon, so I registered late. Why not? It's been a long time since I've raced a 10k, so I figured this would be a good measure of my 10k fitness. My goal this year is to improve my short course / Olympic distance overall, so speed is important. Unfortunately I wasn't feeling the 7:35 pace on this rainy morning, so I decided about 2 miles in to back off, listen to my body and try to run as comfortably as possible. This is a flatter course, so there were no huge obstacles besides the rain and the mini-reservoir we had to run through at miles 2.5 and 5. Yep, we were drenched. But, we were all drenched together.

My insane marathon-training friends got up earlier, and ran 5 miles before the half marathon race. My friends are absolute beasts! I should probably take a queue for my next marathon, and do something similar so those dreaded 18-20 mile runs don't seem so terrible.

Anyhoo, I did fine. My pace was around 7:52, I was the 10th woman overall, and the 2nd in my age group. It's fun to do a local race and get an age group title. It feels pretty awesome after coming in 8,487th place at the Chicago marathon.

This weekend, I'm doing another local race - Go Green half marathon. I've promised myself not to race this one, but just enjoy it.