Early March, I wrote an email to my coach, telling her that I had the itch to race. Her response,
"I was waiting for you to say something."
After only three months of working with me, coach Liza was on to me. With two racing options in the coming weeks, the Stanford Treeathlon, and the South Bay Duathlon, I decided to do my first duathlon. Besides, water is still cold. Very very cold. Coach's instructions were clear though - I would need to do the Olympic distance Duathlon (run 6.2, bike 24.8, run 3.2), and I would need to ride my bike for 2 hours after the race. The South Bay Duathlon would be a training day more than anything, but I was secretly hoping for some podium placement - I mean, no one races this early in the season, right?
I found my way to the transition area so early that I parked my car right in front of the finish line. After packet pickup, I set up my gear in the transition area. My friend, Paul, laughed that I had chosen to wear an aero helmet with winter tires still on the bike. I reiterated, "This is a training day, Paul!" :)
At the starting line before the first 10k run, there was a female competitor in her USA Triathlon jersey. I might have underestimated the talent pool just a smidge. We were off, and I settled into 5th or 6th place in the run, and was only passed once by a woman running a relay (score). I kept the words of my friend, Deirdre, in the back of my head, "Most people go out too fast on the first run, and they kill themselves for the bike." I knew this was true, but decided to go with the Chicago Marathon method. Basically - go fast, and if I die, I'll deal with it.
First 10k was my fastest 10k ever.
The bike was quite interesting. I had never practiced biking after a fast run, so my legs were shot for the first of four loops. They finally started cooperating on the second loop, and I settled in. The bike course was SO FLAT. One hill in the last turn, which was annoying after doing it three times. Overall, my aero helmet and winter tires did just fine.
The final 5k was definitely an experiment. I was just glad to be running marathon pace most of the time. Instead of worrying about it, I focused on the upcoming two hour joy ride after the race. I did think I still had a chance at the podium. There couldn't be any more than five or six women ahead of me.
I was correct - there were 6 women ahead of me, and 3 of them were in my age group! So, I finished 7th overall, and 4th in my age group. Never underestimate the power of women ages 35 to 39.
My first duathlon experience was a positive experience. If I really wanted to do well in the duathlon world, I would practice more run to bike transitions - and I probably would heed the advice of a wise friend and not go all out on the run.
After trying to convince all of my friends, and a few strangers to ride with me after the race for two hours, I ended up going out by myself. But, it was one of the first really beautiful spring days in south Santa Clara county, so I was grateful to be out there!
_________________________
First official race of the season, the HITS Napa Valley Olympic Distance Triathlon is one of my favorites. A few friends and I signed up in 2012 when it was in it's first year - because it was $50. The 2012 race was my second Oly tri ever. It was so early in the season, that I just wanted to finish. That year, the water was in the low 50's, and the course was much hiller than expected. The bike course has around 1,600 feet of climbing. The run course seems straight uphill most of the time. My friends hated it. I was neutral.
I revisited Lake Berryessa in 2013 much more experienced, and completed the race in under 3:00 hours - a first. It was very exciting to PR on a "not easy" course.
Fast forward two years, and I was back! 2015 baby! Lots of training under my belt already. I was ready to kick some ass.
There is definitely something to be said for experience.
The swim this year - a mild 60 degrees. I laughed (in my head) as others referred to it as "too cold." Har har har. With one open water swim experience this year, I wasn't sure what my sighting abilities would be, but figured the swim wouldn't be my forte anyway. My goal was to kick butt on the bike.
The swim was a swim. I swam further than I wanted to because I tend to pull right (away from the buoys) but I didn't feel alone, so I knew I was still in the competition. Most importantly, I don't spend the first five minutes in a panic, and I don't feel like I'm drowning by the end of the swim.
Transition 1 took forever. I got stuck behind a few people who were walking out of the transition area with their bikes, and could not pass them because the sprint athletes were coming down the other side. Very frustrating, but after looking at the T times, it must have been shorter than I thought.
The bike was rad. I kept my pedaling cadence as high as possible, even on the climbs. As usual, I passed a lot of people on the bike because I am so far behind on the swim. It was when I started to pass some pretty fit men that I felt like I was among my equal cycling competition. The bike is an out and back, and I had decided that I would try and pass at least six women on the way back. I passed eight. Most of my racing competition was with the men, who would come past me on the climbs, but I would come back blazing on the downhill. So fun.
At the start of the run, I followed a very quick gal who I had passed at the very end of the bike, and she was full speed. I knew I couldn't keep up. Then, the shin cramps started. I don't call them shin splints, because they eventually go away, but man my shins really cramp sometimes at the beginning of a run. I'd almost rather run a half marathon - longer, and gives me more time to catch up. Because the course starts with a few uphills, my shin really gave way about 3/4 of the way up the second long hill and I stopped to walk and stretch. About 4 women passed me, and I felt defeated.
The rest of the run was fine. The cramps subsided, and I found myself getting comfortable in the competition again. I passed a couple more women on the way back, and was relieved to have the last 1.5 miles of downhill to pick things up. Overall, my run was pretty solid, even with the stop at mile two.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
5:30 AM Wake Up Call
Those who say that Disneyland is the “Happiest Place on Earth,” are sadly misinformed. Clearly the happiest place on Earth – is my bed. When I jump under the covers at night, I declare, "I LOVE YOU, BED!" Being wrapped up with my head on a fluffy pillow and drifting off to sleep is like heaven. When the alarm clock goes off in the morning, my day begins with denial and sadness, as I emerge from my happy place to take on adult responsibilities.
I may have inherited the love of sleep from my father. Dear old dad was always a hard worker, but he was also a big fan of naps. Not those short, 30 minutes naps either - like falling asleep for a couple of hours in the middle of a Saturday. Now retired, he sleeps in until 10 AM, only to the chagrin of my mother who has always been an earlier riser. “People wonder if I’m depressed,” Dad says, “I’m not depressed. I’m so happy – it’s almost like meditation.”
I hope I can retire someday and be just like him.
People claim that all kids get up early, and that I probably just don't remember waking my parents up at 6 AM. But, as long as I can remember, I've loved sleeping. Here is where I admit to my parents that, as a pre-teen/teenager, I switched off their alarm clock on Saturday nights a few times – because I didn’t want to get up early and go to church. It worked once. Another time, mom and dad made us get up anyway and hurry to service. We were half washed, and half asleep, and we had to walk in late with the good Christian folks looking us up and down in disdain.
Have you heard of these crazy people who actually choose to sleep less in order to work more? I don’t get it. As Steve Wozniak once said during a talk, “People are so worried that robots will take our jobs. But, if we don’t have to work, we can sit around and watch movies. I like movies.” Touché, Mr. Wozniak. If I could get a robot to do my job, I could sleep more.
Then there are people with children, who really don’t have a choice. They make me feel particularly spoiled, and I get no sympathy from them. They roll their red, sunken in eyes as if to say, “Suck it up, bitch, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”
With Ironman on the schedule this year – how on earth can I train myself to get up earlier? Or do I just need to learn how to endure the early mornings?
While half Ironman training fit nicely into my sleep-heavy lifestyle, Ironman training has been different. I’d heard about these “double days” – when you do a workout in the morning, then another at night. I thought I could easily adjust my schedule, but it’s not that easy. I’ve so far had one week where I was up before 5:30am three days (thank God not in a row), and I walked around work in an “Ironzombie” state. Still I have not yet gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to eat because I’m hungry. How long will it be before I need to put food on my bedside table so I don’t have to walk 100 feet to the kitchen? Further, when will my stomach ruin my sleep cycle?
The most difficult part has been going to bed at a decent hour. Sometimes I don’t get home from a workout until after 8 PM, and then I’m tired and hungry. I’ve found some quick cooking options, which are usually healthy. (It doesn’t take long to bake fish and vegetables, and it’s also rather healthy.) The trick is just to get myself into bed as early as possible, and read. Unfortunately I often get stuck in my Netflix cue, or chatting with a friend online. This turns my brain on more than off.
When I do get up early and complete a workout before my day job, I do feel really accomplished. I don’t feel like the workout was a waste of time or energy. It’s worth it to get up. It’s convincing myself that this feeling will be worth the drudgery of pulling myself from my cozy quarters. Still, I lay there weighing the options while I hit snooze. If I sleep one more hour, will I still have time after work? Will I still have the energy? Will the pool be open, or will the sun still be out long enough? Will I get wrapped up in work and not be able to leave? It would be nice to get home and just make dinner and watch TV? Oh wait, it’s a double-day. Ok, I need to get out of bed. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Why hasn’t some pharmaceutical company invented a pill that releases a sleep aid at night then releases caffeine 30 minutes before you are supposed to wake up? This would be helpful to more people than Cialis. I’m sure, like depression medicine, they would find other useful applications. I'm sure there would be more sex going on if people were better rested! This is definitely the year I become addicted to caffeine.
If only I could wake up like the late, great Dicky Fox (Jerry Maguire movie reference), “I clap my hands together and say, ‘This is going to be a great day!’”
Never happens.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Pacing, Not Racing
This post is two months in the making (errr, writing). It's not late, I was just pacing myself.
After the cancellation of Ironman Tahoe 70.3, I had no excuse not to jump right into marathon training for the California International Marathon. CIM is coined "The Fastest Course in the West" and is often used as a Boston Qualifying race since the course has negative elevation*. I had the fitness, but needed to make sure it would translate into running fitness, so I mostly put away my bike for a couple of months.
*(Note to future CIM runners: It's not a "flat" course, and there are a bunch of rolling hills in the first half. But technically, you run downhill more than you run uphill.)
I followed the "Run Less Run Faster" (RLRF) training plan for a 3:40 marathon time which is the Boston Qualifying time for my age group, but had to modify slightly since I only had 11 of 16 weeks to train. I wasn't too upset about skipping three 20-mile training runs, and only completing the last two. RLRF is great for triathletes: three days of running (track, tempo, long) and two days of easy cross training.
The run days are really intense though. I think I saw Jesus a few times. He says, "Hello."
My running buddy, Matt, likes to say things like, "Hey, Suzanne, why don't we run every 200 of this 1,600 at exactly the same pace?" This is Matt's very kind way of saying, "Why don't you back off so you don't die in the middle of the interval, you big idiot?" Matt has run enough track workouts with me to know that my tendency is to go out too fast, slow down, then hammer the last bit to make the interval time. Converse to my Chicago Marathon experiment where I decided to run the first half close to a half marathon pace (then almost died), Matt ran the New York City Marathon, and consistently clocked around 8:45 per mile. It was decided - this was the year I would learn to pace myself. Whether or not I hit a Boston Marathon qualifying time was less important.
Why is pacing so difficult?
Everyone knows the scenario when you realize your gas light is on in the car. So, what do you do? Do you fly down the street to the nearest gas station to get there faster (and probably burn more gas)? Or do you slow down and follow behind a large-moving vehicle and take your time (a la Driving Miss Daisy)? I tend to charge forward and hope that I have enough steam to get to the end. So far, I trust that the car has warned me far enough in advance and I live in a city where gas stations are everywhere.
Unfortunately our bodies don't have a very good gas light. In fact, by the time your inner gas light goes on - you are probably going to bonk, or shit yourself. The goal is to get your body to the finish line on one tank of gas. Knowing what pace you can handle is part of the battle. (The other HUGE part is eating/nutrition. To be continued.) Run Less Run Faster holds you to very specific paces for each workout. To do it "right" you have to chose a realistic goal time that you know you can achieve, and use the pacing given for each workout. If you are pacing correctly, it often feels like you need to hold yourself back from running too fast. Matt called this, "Run slow to run fast."
It seems counter intuitive to slow down when you feel good and want to pick up the pace. But, as it is with life - sometimes the right thing to do is slow down, hold yourself accountable (to a pace), and manage your expectations. Trust that the universe (or your good training) will get you past the finish line.
I did not enjoy training for previous marathons. I went out and completed the mileage, but I didn't know what pace I should run or what my time should be. In fact, my long training runs were well over 9-minute miles. When I saw a 20-mile run at an 8:30 pace on the RLRF training plan, I thought it was impossible. But, I trusted that I'd chosen a reasonable goal based on other race times. October was difficult; I almost threw up during an early track workout, and shin splints plagued my first significant long run. (This run was quickly followed by a trip to my physical therapist, and many weeks of butt-strengthening exercises.) By November, I was on fire; my paces were slightly faster, and my legs felt great!
After the cancellation of Ironman Tahoe 70.3, I had no excuse not to jump right into marathon training for the California International Marathon. CIM is coined "The Fastest Course in the West" and is often used as a Boston Qualifying race since the course has negative elevation*. I had the fitness, but needed to make sure it would translate into running fitness, so I mostly put away my bike for a couple of months.
*(Note to future CIM runners: It's not a "flat" course, and there are a bunch of rolling hills in the first half. But technically, you run downhill more than you run uphill.)
I followed the "Run Less Run Faster" (RLRF) training plan for a 3:40 marathon time which is the Boston Qualifying time for my age group, but had to modify slightly since I only had 11 of 16 weeks to train. I wasn't too upset about skipping three 20-mile training runs, and only completing the last two. RLRF is great for triathletes: three days of running (track, tempo, long) and two days of easy cross training.
The run days are really intense though. I think I saw Jesus a few times. He says, "Hello."
My running buddy, Matt, likes to say things like, "Hey, Suzanne, why don't we run every 200 of this 1,600 at exactly the same pace?" This is Matt's very kind way of saying, "Why don't you back off so you don't die in the middle of the interval, you big idiot?" Matt has run enough track workouts with me to know that my tendency is to go out too fast, slow down, then hammer the last bit to make the interval time. Converse to my Chicago Marathon experiment where I decided to run the first half close to a half marathon pace (then almost died), Matt ran the New York City Marathon, and consistently clocked around 8:45 per mile. It was decided - this was the year I would learn to pace myself. Whether or not I hit a Boston Marathon qualifying time was less important.
Why is pacing so difficult?
Everyone knows the scenario when you realize your gas light is on in the car. So, what do you do? Do you fly down the street to the nearest gas station to get there faster (and probably burn more gas)? Or do you slow down and follow behind a large-moving vehicle and take your time (a la Driving Miss Daisy)? I tend to charge forward and hope that I have enough steam to get to the end. So far, I trust that the car has warned me far enough in advance and I live in a city where gas stations are everywhere.
Unfortunately our bodies don't have a very good gas light. In fact, by the time your inner gas light goes on - you are probably going to bonk, or shit yourself. The goal is to get your body to the finish line on one tank of gas. Knowing what pace you can handle is part of the battle. (The other HUGE part is eating/nutrition. To be continued.) Run Less Run Faster holds you to very specific paces for each workout. To do it "right" you have to chose a realistic goal time that you know you can achieve, and use the pacing given for each workout. If you are pacing correctly, it often feels like you need to hold yourself back from running too fast. Matt called this, "Run slow to run fast."
It seems counter intuitive to slow down when you feel good and want to pick up the pace. But, as it is with life - sometimes the right thing to do is slow down, hold yourself accountable (to a pace), and manage your expectations. Trust that the universe (or your good training) will get you past the finish line.
I did not enjoy training for previous marathons. I went out and completed the mileage, but I didn't know what pace I should run or what my time should be. In fact, my long training runs were well over 9-minute miles. When I saw a 20-mile run at an 8:30 pace on the RLRF training plan, I thought it was impossible. But, I trusted that I'd chosen a reasonable goal based on other race times. October was difficult; I almost threw up during an early track workout, and shin splints plagued my first significant long run. (This run was quickly followed by a trip to my physical therapist, and many weeks of butt-strengthening exercises.) By November, I was on fire; my paces were slightly faster, and my legs felt great!
The days prior to CIM, I didn't really know what pace I should run. A 8:23 pace would lead to a 3:40 marathon, but I wanted to be at least one minute under. I also took into account that runners usually end up going further than 26.2 miles, there are aid station stops, hills, and possibly other obstacles along the way (i.e. people, the need to use a port-o-pottie). So, at dinner the night before the race, I talked to my pacing buddy, and we decided to stick around 8:18 per mile for the first half, then see if we couldn't run the second half slightly faster. Easy pace, plenty of room for error.
On race day, our three-person pace group went out too fast for the first couple of miles, but were able to hang back for the rest of the first half. I felt like I could pick up the tempo, but knew it wouldn't pay off in the end. This was pacing, not racing. There was no way I'd let my Garmin tick below 8:15, and I wouldn't freak out if it ticked at 8:20. I was in the zone.
The second half came on, and our pace group was separated, so I was on my own. The second half, in theory, should be run slightly faster. I felt good with 8:15-8:20 and wanted to pick it up a bit, but made deal with myself to hold back until mile 17. I had been fooled by this feeling of second half exhilaration before - but not this time.
At mile 20, it was on! I had paced long enough, it was time to make sure all of my limbs were still attached, and pick up the tempo. I tried to imagine the last six miles as a 10k race, or the 10k after an Olympic distance triathlon. Now it was a mental game. Tired, but pushing through, I realized that I had enough left in the gas tank to make it to the finish line by my goal time. I wasn't going to bonk, shit myself, or see Jesus. Thank you, Jesus, for all of those tempo runs.
I am grateful for the training, the day (perfect weather), my friends . . . and the Boston Qualifying time is nice too. I want to thank Matt (deemed "Run Husband" from henceforth), Gemma, Deirdre, Andrew (the 3:40 pace team), and everyone on our Facebook page for helping to keep me on pace - literally and virtually. I will use my new pacing abilities in every aspect of my training. But, I will probably still panic and speed to the gas station when my gas light goes on.
On race day, our three-person pace group went out too fast for the first couple of miles, but were able to hang back for the rest of the first half. I felt like I could pick up the tempo, but knew it wouldn't pay off in the end. This was pacing, not racing. There was no way I'd let my Garmin tick below 8:15, and I wouldn't freak out if it ticked at 8:20. I was in the zone.
The second half came on, and our pace group was separated, so I was on my own. The second half, in theory, should be run slightly faster. I felt good with 8:15-8:20 and wanted to pick it up a bit, but made deal with myself to hold back until mile 17. I had been fooled by this feeling of second half exhilaration before - but not this time.
At mile 20, it was on! I had paced long enough, it was time to make sure all of my limbs were still attached, and pick up the tempo. I tried to imagine the last six miles as a 10k race, or the 10k after an Olympic distance triathlon. Now it was a mental game. Tired, but pushing through, I realized that I had enough left in the gas tank to make it to the finish line by my goal time. I wasn't going to bonk, shit myself, or see Jesus. Thank you, Jesus, for all of those tempo runs.
I am grateful for the training, the day (perfect weather), my friends . . . and the Boston Qualifying time is nice too. I want to thank Matt (deemed "Run Husband" from henceforth), Gemma, Deirdre, Andrew (the 3:40 pace team), and everyone on our Facebook page for helping to keep me on pace - literally and virtually. I will use my new pacing abilities in every aspect of my training. But, I will probably still panic and speed to the gas station when my gas light goes on.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Tahoe 70.3 Non-Race Report
I would have loved to bang out a half Ironman this year, but it didn't happen. Wildflower was fantastic for an early season event, but to have ended with a great performance in Tahoe would have been the ultimate year. Unfortunately, due to the King fires near Sacramento, North Lake Tahoe was filled with smoke, which ultimately shut down the race - 10 minutes prior to the start. There are plenty of athletes who trained very hard to compete, and gave up many more personal and family obligations than I did to compete, not to mention those who came from a distance or another country. Furthermore, people are in risk of losing much more than a race, but their homes and potentially their lives.
I refuse to complain about my own ambitions. It wouldn't be right.
I refuse to complain about my own ambitions. It wouldn't be right.
Top 10 Reasons I'm ok with IMLT Cancelation
1.) I am so glad I didn't cave and buy branded race gear! Win! (Suzanne +1, all of you other suckers who bought the jersey and shorts -1)
2.) I didn't have to eat 1000 calories of Clif Bar for lunch.
3.) This is the first event that didn't give me serious chafing, or a sunburn.
4.) There is no need to rest before going into fall/winter marathon training! It's on!
5.) I rode my bike from Kings Beach to Squaw after the cancellation announcement, and broke every one of my course records on Strava.
6.) Free cookies, bananas, and Red Bull. They were just giving stuff away.
7.) I am pretty good at Swim, Bike, Run but am surprisingly good at Gin, Beer, Rum as well (not in that order)... I learned that endurance sport nutrition is more similar to endurance drinking nutrition than I originally thought: Pre-load on a bunch of protein, eat at least 500 calories for breakfast, and remember to drink water and eat consistently, and you'll be fine. Sherpas are recommended. (We had a lot of fun at the Irish Pub in Squaw.) :)
8.) I am lucky to live in the Bay Area, and Lake Tahoe is only a 4 hour drive. I spent 18 glorious days with some of the best damn people on the face of this earth. From my Trans Tahoe Relay gals, to Silicon Valley Triathlon Club, to all of the other athletes I met while training. You guys are my rock. Thank you for your support, and most of all, laughter. We had some great times up there in the altitude and blue water.
9.) I met a pair of Challenged athletes who inspired me. One was trying to finish his 25th Ironman, and the other trying to finish his 1st.
10.) We all have our lives, and our health. We are all capable of training for another event.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Confession: Endurance Sports Make Me Cry
I'm a total baby.
Sometimes I get choked up during my own races. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of "Wow, this is awesome!" kicks in, and I have to hold it back (wastes too much energy). Most of the time, I cry watching other people compete - amateur competitors. Rarely do I get choked up over professional athletes. Professional athletes are amazing, and worthy of being lauded for their achievements. But, I typically don't know who wins a race. I can hardly pay attention to the first person over the finish line, when the real warriors are often an hour or more behind them.
October 2009 - My first big-city (San Jose) half marathon. I'd finished my race, and was standing at the finish line to watch the other participants - especially waiting for the arrival of my friend, Paul. Paul was involved in a nasty motorcycle accident 15 months prior to the race in which he broke his femur. He was probably lucky as hell to be alive. As a physical education teacher, he wanted to do a race to help overcome the injury both mentally and physically. So, he signed for for the San Jose Rock and Roll Marathon. He didn't have a goal time.
While waiting for Paul, I probably watched a thousand other people enter the finishing shoot, and run to the finish line. The sight of that big finish line banner makes people do the most incredible things (even if they were walking just moments before): they sprint, they smile, they find their loved ones and cherish the moment of the big finish. Some of them wear t-shirts in support of an organization, and some have personal messages on their clothing from a family or friend who has passed on. Some cry. Some turn on the engine at the last moment, and try to pass as many people as they can. This finish line is not just the end of a race, sometimes it is the end of another journey, or the realization of how wonderful it is to be alive.
Finally, Paul walked around the corner, and as soon as he saw the finish line, his face lit up with a smile and he picked up the pace, hobbling somewhat to the finish. I totally choked up. Shit, what a great moment for him. His finishing time was 2 hours, 38 minutes, but his race was so much more of a win than mine. Here is a man who could have possibly lost his life, battling 13 miles of a road race on a rehabilitated leg.
This summer, I volunteered for the California International Triathlon and was assigned to the absolute worst part of the course: the run turnaround at the top of a dusty hill. Man, people were really suffering on that hill in the heat, and they had to do it twice! At first it was exciting to see the competitive age-groupers conquer the hill, but as the crowd came down to the one or two who would walk most of the last two miles - my heart was full and so were my eyes - of tears. I wasn't at all sad for these people. I was so freakin' inspired.
As all good volunteers should do (take note), I decided I would stay until the bitter end and make sure the last runner returned safely to the finish line. Her name was Katherine, and she was the mostly lovely woman. Her calf read her age, which I believe was 66. As she came up the hill for the second time, she had to walk. So, I walked a bit with her. She started talking to me like a friend. She wasn't happy with her swim time, but didn't want that to stop her, and she knew she was either last, or the person behind her had decided not to finish. She wanted to see her husband at the finish line.
At one point, Katherine asked me if they had taken the finish line down. "It doesn't really matter," I said, "you are awesome!" I was so thrilled that the finish line was still up when she reached the final stretch. She raised her hands above her head, found her husband, and they hugged.
Then, the waterworks came!
Ok, I'll admit, watching Meb Keflezighi in the last mile of the Boston Marathon this year was pretty thrilling. But, typically my tears are reserved for the regular people, the common man, the weekend warrior who has overcome obstacles to be at the finish line. They didn't have the best performance, or the best time, but they endured. Everyone is on their own journey. Those who reign supreme, and those who "just finish" are fighting different battles, and have overcome something to be where they are. If you asked me who my favorite athlete is, I would probably say someone like Paul, or Katherine.
In about a week, I will be live and in person at the Ironman Tahoe finish line. I will need to pack some Kleenex.
Sometimes I get choked up during my own races. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of "Wow, this is awesome!" kicks in, and I have to hold it back (wastes too much energy). Most of the time, I cry watching other people compete - amateur competitors. Rarely do I get choked up over professional athletes. Professional athletes are amazing, and worthy of being lauded for their achievements. But, I typically don't know who wins a race. I can hardly pay attention to the first person over the finish line, when the real warriors are often an hour or more behind them.
October 2009 - My first big-city (San Jose) half marathon. I'd finished my race, and was standing at the finish line to watch the other participants - especially waiting for the arrival of my friend, Paul. Paul was involved in a nasty motorcycle accident 15 months prior to the race in which he broke his femur. He was probably lucky as hell to be alive. As a physical education teacher, he wanted to do a race to help overcome the injury both mentally and physically. So, he signed for for the San Jose Rock and Roll Marathon. He didn't have a goal time.
While waiting for Paul, I probably watched a thousand other people enter the finishing shoot, and run to the finish line. The sight of that big finish line banner makes people do the most incredible things (even if they were walking just moments before): they sprint, they smile, they find their loved ones and cherish the moment of the big finish. Some of them wear t-shirts in support of an organization, and some have personal messages on their clothing from a family or friend who has passed on. Some cry. Some turn on the engine at the last moment, and try to pass as many people as they can. This finish line is not just the end of a race, sometimes it is the end of another journey, or the realization of how wonderful it is to be alive.
Finally, Paul walked around the corner, and as soon as he saw the finish line, his face lit up with a smile and he picked up the pace, hobbling somewhat to the finish. I totally choked up. Shit, what a great moment for him. His finishing time was 2 hours, 38 minutes, but his race was so much more of a win than mine. Here is a man who could have possibly lost his life, battling 13 miles of a road race on a rehabilitated leg.
This summer, I volunteered for the California International Triathlon and was assigned to the absolute worst part of the course: the run turnaround at the top of a dusty hill. Man, people were really suffering on that hill in the heat, and they had to do it twice! At first it was exciting to see the competitive age-groupers conquer the hill, but as the crowd came down to the one or two who would walk most of the last two miles - my heart was full and so were my eyes - of tears. I wasn't at all sad for these people. I was so freakin' inspired.
As all good volunteers should do (take note), I decided I would stay until the bitter end and make sure the last runner returned safely to the finish line. Her name was Katherine, and she was the mostly lovely woman. Her calf read her age, which I believe was 66. As she came up the hill for the second time, she had to walk. So, I walked a bit with her. She started talking to me like a friend. She wasn't happy with her swim time, but didn't want that to stop her, and she knew she was either last, or the person behind her had decided not to finish. She wanted to see her husband at the finish line.
At one point, Katherine asked me if they had taken the finish line down. "It doesn't really matter," I said, "you are awesome!" I was so thrilled that the finish line was still up when she reached the final stretch. She raised her hands above her head, found her husband, and they hugged.
Then, the waterworks came!
Ok, I'll admit, watching Meb Keflezighi in the last mile of the Boston Marathon this year was pretty thrilling. But, typically my tears are reserved for the regular people, the common man, the weekend warrior who has overcome obstacles to be at the finish line. They didn't have the best performance, or the best time, but they endured. Everyone is on their own journey. Those who reign supreme, and those who "just finish" are fighting different battles, and have overcome something to be where they are. If you asked me who my favorite athlete is, I would probably say someone like Paul, or Katherine.
In about a week, I will be live and in person at the Ironman Tahoe finish line. I will need to pack some Kleenex.
Thursday, August 7, 2014
35 Years
When I was 25, I smoked Marlboro Lights. I could go out to a bar and drink four gin and tonics, eat very little, and be home by 4 a.m. with the ability to catch the bus and get to work at 9 a.m. My heroes were Carrie Bradshaw and Bridget Jones.
At 35, I smoke fools on my bike. I can drink a gin and tonic or a glass of wine at home, eat every crumb out of my refrigerator (starving from workout), be in bed by 10 p.m., and get up to drive myself to work in a compact SUV and arrive promptly at 7:30 a.m. I'm don't have any specific heroes, but am inspired by everyday people who are awesome. Carrie Bradshaw isn't real, and I now realize that there is no way a lawyer, a housewife, a PR mogul, and a writer could have time to meet in a coffee shop once a week. It just wouldn't happen. And Bridget Jones is pretty much a basket case. How she ended up with a barrister is beyond me.
At 25, I had just moved back to California from Las Vegas. I took the $400 I had in my bank account, asked a friend to help me put my belongings into a moving truck, and moved the F#$% out of that town. Vegas has the diversity of the Bay Area, but drop the education and common sense by about 80% - and there you go. I probably contributed to that while I was there. Not my place in the world.
At 35, I'm "making it" (whatever that means) in the Silicon Valley and seriously kicking ass. I surround myself by quality people, because I aspire to be a quality person myself. I have a much better understanding of my place in the world.
Ten signs that I'm officially in my mid-30's
1.) I drive a compact SUV. It's a total mom car, except my children are bikes and wet suits. I love taking the kids to Tahoe!
2.) I seem to be suddenly more attractive to men in their 20's than when I was in my 20's. I also seem to attract men who could be my father. Eeewww.
3.) Eating whatever you want is a myth. Even if you work out, you can't eat whatever you want. Not at 35, or any time after that. I've heard that your appetite is supposed to decrease as you get older. This has not happened to me. I'm only getting more hungry. It will be interesting to see how much I eat when I train for Ironman Canada next year.
4.) My skin is on a revolt against my face. What I thought were cute freckles ten years ago are not - it's melasma (look it up)! Also, I'm having a strange case of adult acne.
5.) I bought a basil plant. I thought it was ridiculous to buy a pound of basil for a recipe that needs only a tablespoon, so the $2.99 plant made sense to be both sustainable, and economical.
6.) I considered cat ownership. Then, I thought about what it means to be a cat-lady, and decided that this is not the direction for me. Cats are pretty cute, and I saw one walking outside of my house last night (It's a sign!). I will resist the temptation for a furry friend. I would much rather have a dog anyway.
7.) People at the grocery store officially call me ma'am. I don't get ID ed either, except at the airport.
8.) I recently went into H&M and was horrified by what I saw. It looked like a garage sale multiplied in there. No wonder you can get a pair of pants for $5! I've been told that I am not old enough to shop at Chicos. . . although that blazer is really cute. So, I have found a fashion stepping stone! My new locale for age appropriate clothing is J Crew. That's right. I'm preppy.
9.) Speaking of preppy, I've decided that the term "yuppie" does not apply to me. Yes, I am still upwardly mobile, but I am not upper middle class - at least not in the Bay Area.
10.) I lived through three complete decades, and feel I can finally use terms like, "Back in the Day" or "Kickin' it Old School", and it is age appropriate. No one "kicked it" until the 80's. So if you don't remember the 80's - stop using that term. (Love, the Bitchy 35-year old.)
At 35, I smoke fools on my bike. I can drink a gin and tonic or a glass of wine at home, eat every crumb out of my refrigerator (starving from workout), be in bed by 10 p.m., and get up to drive myself to work in a compact SUV and arrive promptly at 7:30 a.m. I'm don't have any specific heroes, but am inspired by everyday people who are awesome. Carrie Bradshaw isn't real, and I now realize that there is no way a lawyer, a housewife, a PR mogul, and a writer could have time to meet in a coffee shop once a week. It just wouldn't happen. And Bridget Jones is pretty much a basket case. How she ended up with a barrister is beyond me.
At 25, I had just moved back to California from Las Vegas. I took the $400 I had in my bank account, asked a friend to help me put my belongings into a moving truck, and moved the F#$% out of that town. Vegas has the diversity of the Bay Area, but drop the education and common sense by about 80% - and there you go. I probably contributed to that while I was there. Not my place in the world.
At 35, I'm "making it" (whatever that means) in the Silicon Valley and seriously kicking ass. I surround myself by quality people, because I aspire to be a quality person myself. I have a much better understanding of my place in the world.
Ten signs that I'm officially in my mid-30's
1.) I drive a compact SUV. It's a total mom car, except my children are bikes and wet suits. I love taking the kids to Tahoe!
2.) I seem to be suddenly more attractive to men in their 20's than when I was in my 20's. I also seem to attract men who could be my father. Eeewww.
3.) Eating whatever you want is a myth. Even if you work out, you can't eat whatever you want. Not at 35, or any time after that. I've heard that your appetite is supposed to decrease as you get older. This has not happened to me. I'm only getting more hungry. It will be interesting to see how much I eat when I train for Ironman Canada next year.
4.) My skin is on a revolt against my face. What I thought were cute freckles ten years ago are not - it's melasma (look it up)! Also, I'm having a strange case of adult acne.
5.) I bought a basil plant. I thought it was ridiculous to buy a pound of basil for a recipe that needs only a tablespoon, so the $2.99 plant made sense to be both sustainable, and economical.
6.) I considered cat ownership. Then, I thought about what it means to be a cat-lady, and decided that this is not the direction for me. Cats are pretty cute, and I saw one walking outside of my house last night (It's a sign!). I will resist the temptation for a furry friend. I would much rather have a dog anyway.
7.) People at the grocery store officially call me ma'am. I don't get ID ed either, except at the airport.
8.) I recently went into H&M and was horrified by what I saw. It looked like a garage sale multiplied in there. No wonder you can get a pair of pants for $5! I've been told that I am not old enough to shop at Chicos. . . although that blazer is really cute. So, I have found a fashion stepping stone! My new locale for age appropriate clothing is J Crew. That's right. I'm preppy.
9.) Speaking of preppy, I've decided that the term "yuppie" does not apply to me. Yes, I am still upwardly mobile, but I am not upper middle class - at least not in the Bay Area.
10.) I lived through three complete decades, and feel I can finally use terms like, "Back in the Day" or "Kickin' it Old School", and it is age appropriate. No one "kicked it" until the 80's. So if you don't remember the 80's - stop using that term. (Love, the Bitchy 35-year old.)
Sunday, August 3, 2014
A Donner Lake Race Report
I had a title selected for this blog already - a week before the race. It was going to be called, "Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride," in response to a 4th place age group ranking. This is usually where I end up in an Olympic distance triathlon - just shy of the podium - usually because of a slow swim time. My plan was to wrap up a race report with memories of being a bridesmaid. Kind of like the movie "27 Dresses": only less dress, more sweat.
That would have been a really funny post. But, I'll have to save it for another time...
The Donner Lake Triathlon was a planned "A" races this season. The event is a smaller, local event, but the course is challenging, and many seasoned triathletes come out to race it. I'd spent the last nine days at altitude already with some awesome training under my belt: Trans Tahoe Relay swim, a practice ride of the Ironman 70.3 course, and a few running opportunities. On the flip side, I'd also spent nine days eating everything in sight, and drinking some gin (also beer, wine, and a Wet Woody....). Don't judge. I was on vacation too!
After checking the results from the previous year, it seemed I would need to finish in around 3:00 or 3:01 to be on the podium for the DLT. My goal was to listen to my body, and start each leg easy. After spending nine glorious days at altitude, training and vacationing, I could still feel the lack of air, but knew I could manage if I could also relax into each event, and not hyperventilate. Plus, I've never really raced up a major climb before...
The Donner Lake Triathlon is mega scenic. The .9 mile swim in Donner Lake is a rectangular course with buoys to the swimmers left side. The bike ride up Donner Pass, passed the Sugar Bowl, into Kingvale and back is absolutely gorgeous, but also a challenging 2,100 feet of climbing over 24.8 miles. The 6.67 mile run around Donner Lake starts out flat, has one significant hill half-way through, then rolls to the finish line.
Swim: 34:21
The water of Donner Lake is clean and lovely, slightly chilly. The sun had risen high enough that the buoys were not completely out of sight, which was nice. The lake is very deep in the middle, so it suddenly goes from sand to a black abyss below. The ghosts of Donner Lake were messing with us swimmers because apparently no one was able to swim the course straight. (Thanks to Jimmy for putting the image of dead bodies in my head.) I never swim the course straight, so it was an average swim for me.
Bike: 1:31:12
There was no choice but to start out slow on this bike course - the course begins with a 3 mile climb up Donner Pass. So, I went into my lowest gear and churned at a comfortable pace. Such a gorgeous climb! The absolute best scenery of any climb I've ridden. Breathtaking. Lovely. . .
When I got to the top of Donner Pass - it was ON like DONKEY KONG! I knew there were only a few miles to take advantage of the downhill, so I got low and jammed down the other side into Kingvale like it was no body's business. Just before the turn around I saw a group of really strong women coming up the hill and I really wanted to catch them. I had taken it easy long enough, so I cranked it up a notch up the longer ascent up the other side. There were two short downhill opportunities where I saw other cyclists stop pedaling, but I knew I needed those few extra pedal strokes to make up some time.
This is the first year that I've felt comfortable descending, but I would typically ride the breaks a bit more doing down a hill like Donner Pass Road on a training ride. Not today, folks. That hill was mine! All mine! Wah ha ha! *evil laugh* I was shooting for 1:30, and it wasn't too far off.
Run: 55:24
My first practice run at altitude was brutal. I thought my sports bra was on too tight, then realized it was just the lack of oxygen. I was prepared for this feeling again. It was difficult not to look at my watch, but I tried to run by feel instead of by the pace on my Garmin. The run would not be a sub-8:00 mile run unless, for some reason, I felt awesome a couple of miles in. The first 3 miles are typically difficult as my legs adjust to the road. I calmed to my 3 (in) - 2 (out) breathing cycle repeating:
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
I never felt "awesome" per say, but it was a good run despite walking one hill at mile three. No one passed me on the run, and I closed the gap between me and a couple of other women in front of me who weren't in my age group. Isn't it funny how during the race you think, "Oh my God, I can't go any faster." Then the second the race is over you think, "I could have caught them." Hindsight 20/20.
It would have been great to have been the sub-8:00 mile range, but I was happy with the run overall.
During the race, I didn't see a lot of women in my age group at all. This is a typical scenario. I always assume they get out of the water before me, and I never catch them. The only thing that kept me motivated during the run was knowing that I had set out to give it my all.
Finish time: 3:04:12
After the race, I found my compadres and awaited the results that (I thought) would put me in 4th place in my age group again. I didn't think my time was enough for a podium finish, and I definitely wasn't expecting a first place ranking - shit, third would have been really great! So, I was very happy with a first place age group finish at the Donner Lake Triathlon.
Finally! I'm a bride!! Er... podium finisher!
That would have been a really funny post. But, I'll have to save it for another time...
The Donner Lake Triathlon was a planned "A" races this season. The event is a smaller, local event, but the course is challenging, and many seasoned triathletes come out to race it. I'd spent the last nine days at altitude already with some awesome training under my belt: Trans Tahoe Relay swim, a practice ride of the Ironman 70.3 course, and a few running opportunities. On the flip side, I'd also spent nine days eating everything in sight, and drinking some gin (also beer, wine, and a Wet Woody....). Don't judge. I was on vacation too!
After checking the results from the previous year, it seemed I would need to finish in around 3:00 or 3:01 to be on the podium for the DLT. My goal was to listen to my body, and start each leg easy. After spending nine glorious days at altitude, training and vacationing, I could still feel the lack of air, but knew I could manage if I could also relax into each event, and not hyperventilate. Plus, I've never really raced up a major climb before...
The Donner Lake Triathlon is mega scenic. The .9 mile swim in Donner Lake is a rectangular course with buoys to the swimmers left side. The bike ride up Donner Pass, passed the Sugar Bowl, into Kingvale and back is absolutely gorgeous, but also a challenging 2,100 feet of climbing over 24.8 miles. The 6.67 mile run around Donner Lake starts out flat, has one significant hill half-way through, then rolls to the finish line.
Swim: 34:21
The water of Donner Lake is clean and lovely, slightly chilly. The sun had risen high enough that the buoys were not completely out of sight, which was nice. The lake is very deep in the middle, so it suddenly goes from sand to a black abyss below. The ghosts of Donner Lake were messing with us swimmers because apparently no one was able to swim the course straight. (Thanks to Jimmy for putting the image of dead bodies in my head.) I never swim the course straight, so it was an average swim for me.
 |
| With Randi before the swim. She's a real swimmer. Like really awesome n' stuff. |
There was no choice but to start out slow on this bike course - the course begins with a 3 mile climb up Donner Pass. So, I went into my lowest gear and churned at a comfortable pace. Such a gorgeous climb! The absolute best scenery of any climb I've ridden. Breathtaking. Lovely. . .
When I got to the top of Donner Pass - it was ON like DONKEY KONG! I knew there were only a few miles to take advantage of the downhill, so I got low and jammed down the other side into Kingvale like it was no body's business. Just before the turn around I saw a group of really strong women coming up the hill and I really wanted to catch them. I had taken it easy long enough, so I cranked it up a notch up the longer ascent up the other side. There were two short downhill opportunities where I saw other cyclists stop pedaling, but I knew I needed those few extra pedal strokes to make up some time.
This is the first year that I've felt comfortable descending, but I would typically ride the breaks a bit more doing down a hill like Donner Pass Road on a training ride. Not today, folks. That hill was mine! All mine! Wah ha ha! *evil laugh* I was shooting for 1:30, and it wasn't too far off.
 |
| Coming in from the bike. Photo credit: Pim K. |
My first practice run at altitude was brutal. I thought my sports bra was on too tight, then realized it was just the lack of oxygen. I was prepared for this feeling again. It was difficult not to look at my watch, but I tried to run by feel instead of by the pace on my Garmin. The run would not be a sub-8:00 mile run unless, for some reason, I felt awesome a couple of miles in. The first 3 miles are typically difficult as my legs adjust to the road. I calmed to my 3 (in) - 2 (out) breathing cycle repeating:
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
This. Is. Your. (in) A. Race. (out)
I never felt "awesome" per say, but it was a good run despite walking one hill at mile three. No one passed me on the run, and I closed the gap between me and a couple of other women in front of me who weren't in my age group. Isn't it funny how during the race you think, "Oh my God, I can't go any faster." Then the second the race is over you think, "I could have caught them." Hindsight 20/20.
It would have been great to have been the sub-8:00 mile range, but I was happy with the run overall.
 |
| Photo credit: Pim K. |
Finish time: 3:04:12
After the race, I found my compadres and awaited the results that (I thought) would put me in 4th place in my age group again. I didn't think my time was enough for a podium finish, and I definitely wasn't expecting a first place ranking - shit, third would have been really great! So, I was very happy with a first place age group finish at the Donner Lake Triathlon.
Finally! I'm a bride!! Er... podium finisher!
 |
| Podium ceremony, without a podium.. or the 3rd place AG finisher. Photo credit: Pim K. |
 |
| Getting fresh with sweaty people after the race: With Jimmy, Kathy, Rune. Photo credit: Pim K. |
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