Getting Lost

When I was a little girl, my dad told me a story about how he got to know Wichita when he first moved there. He had grown up near Ohio, but moved to Wichita when he entered the Air Force. During his first week or two there, he drove around in his Le Mans and got himself really lost. Then he found his way home again. And that's how he got to know his way around Wichita.

On Tuesday, I got lost.

I planned a long ride using a combination of Strava heatmaps, local knowledge, and the few rides I've done with Alto Velo Racing Club. I loaded it to my phone, and hoped that would be enough.

First off, I don't know enough about the area to know high-traffic roads. Sometimes Strava heatmaps show a road that's popular for riding, but all of the rides are recorded on Saturdays and Sundays when the traffic's light, or it's all from weekday commuters who ride on the sidewalks. So I ended up on a long, steady uphill that was pretty high-traffic, and included lots of semi-trucks. That was mistake number one.

Mistake number two was missing my turn and going about 5 miles beyond it, mostly uphill. I figured it out and turned around straight into a headwind. Ergh. I checked my phone at the turn to make sure I knew the next few turns, then did a loooooong descent down a narrow road. I made my next turn, but had to stop and check my phone there.

Which brings me to mistake number three: not bringing a phone charger. My phone got too cold and froze. Have you ever had your iPhone literally freeze? The battery drains to nothing in a second and you can't turn it back on until you plug it in. So now I was about 15 miles from home with no idea where I was or how to get back.

So I tried to use the bread crumbs feature of my Garmin to guide me back. It didn't work. And the satellite dropped out. I was completely without technology, and had to use my wits to get me back home!

I'd just come down from the mountains, and I know those are west of where I live. And I'd seen the south bay from the top of the mountain, so I started heading north and east. I saw a sign for a familiar road, but couldn't remember if I should turn left or right. I guessed left, and followed the road hoping that I wasn't going to end up in San Jose.

After a few miles, I saw a familiar jersey up ahead--a Sunpower racer was within view! I went a little harder to catch up to him, and asked if he could point me in the right direction. He showed me where to turn, and I was back in a familiar area! I was able to get myself home from there.

Tl;dr: I got lost, and now I know my way around my new home a little bit better! But getting lost is worth it when it comes with these views:

Race Report: Monster Cross

Oy. Where to begin?

First off, this race report isn't getting out until Thursday (4 days) because I've had trouble concentrating. I fell and hit my head pretty hard . . . and I didn't think I got a concussion, because it didn't feel like the concussions I've had before . . . But who knows. Maybe I had a mild concussion, or maybe I just feel loopy because the weather's been nice and my allergies are starting for the spring.

So. Monster Cross.

It sucked.

I should have gotten an indication of how things would go down at registration, where they ran out of T-shirts. So in spite of registering well ahead of time, I didn't get a T-shirt. Not that I care that much about another T-shirt, but the entry fee was $70 and included a shirt. Why couldn't you have enough shirts for pre-registered riders who paid for a shirt?

The start was a total shit-show, if you'll pardon my language. There was no direction given on staging. I heard a rumor that the 25-mile people were supposed to start after the 50-mile people, but I doubt many people got that note (and I don't even know if it was true). There were about 500 people at the start, and about half of them were assholes on mountain bikes who were really convinced that they needed to get around me and in front of me as quickly as possible. The first 5 miles were full of stupidity and unnecessary risks. Fortunately, I managed to find a pair of wheels from Rogue Velo that were riding at a consistent pace and taking good lines, so I tagged onto the back of them and followed for the first 5-10 miles (even though they were going slower than I knew I could ride).

After things thinned out a little, I passed the pair from Rogue Velo and told them they won my prize for steadiest wheels and thanked them for that. There was still a lot of traffic, though. I though Carl Dolan was stressful last year. It was nothing compared to a double-paceline on double-track with a bunch of dumb mountain bikers who apparently don't know how to ride next to other people and guys on cross bikes who seem like they've never ridden within 10 feet of another person.

There was one guy in particular (on a mountain bike, of course) who made at least 3 really dumb passes that I saw. He blew past me way too close (without calling anything out to me, of course), then I saw him on two other occasions pass someone with barely inches to spare (almost hitting the other rider) when there was plenty of room on the other side to pass! Stupid, discourteous, asshole behavior, all around.

Can you tell that this whole thing was making me grumpy?

I ended up passing and dropping the stupid mountain biker on the uphills, anyway.

I had about 5 miles of good riding before taking a creek crossing too fast (even though I was warned a few weeks ago about this particular creek crossing) and with a bad line. I tore a hole right through my front tire, tubeless system be damned. I ended up at the top of the next hill with half a dozen other riders in the same boat. My wheel was spewing Stan's NoTubes all over, but it was holding enough air that I felt like I could ride it for at least a mile or so before pumping it up again. Another woman was in the same predicament, and she told me she was pretty sure that we had been 2nd and 3rd until that point. But I didn't really care; I'd decided I didn't want to be anywhere close to the front with the self-important jerks and their dickish behavior.

The nice thing about flatting was that I was pretty close to the back of the field, so I had the trails to myself at last! The bad thing was that my tire was losing air, and I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it through a second lap. As I pulled over to the side of the trail to add some more air to my flat (again) tire, I resigned myself to pulling out at mile 25.

Miraculously, my tire had sealed and was holding air! It maintained the same air pressure for the last 4 miles of the lap, and I decided to risk a second lap on it. Right at the end of that lap, though, I passed a really, really, really bad crash. Some of my racing friends had pulled over to the side of the trail, and they all looked stunned. I tried not to look, and kept going on the lap. The woman who'd crashed ended up being taken out in a helicopter, and just regained consciousness the other day. Hope she pulls through.

I stopped by my car (which I'd conveniently and unwittingly parked right next to the start of the second lap) to check the air pressure on my tires with my track pump and let some air out of my tires, because I had way too much for confident handling on the first lap. I also grabbed a fresh bottle of water. And then I started my second lap.

The ride was going great, and I was reeling some of the women who'd passed me back in! Then there was a little mix-up with the course. A section of the course had two-way traffic, but the two-way section wasn't labeled in any way. So we were heading out on our second lap, and the front of the field was heading back on their second lap, and they were yelling at us that we were going the wrong way. Me and another guy on a cross bike rode back to the last corner to see if we'd missed a turn, but it didn't look like we had. So we started out the same way again, and met another group who assured us that we were going the wrong way. So we turned around and went back again, picking up a few more people each time. Finally, there were about a dozen of us stopped at the corner, so we all decided to go back down the two-way section and if we were wrong at least we'd all be wrong together. Turned out to be the right decision. But it's another example of really poor race management. First of all, that section was dangerous. There was only one good line to pass, and if two people were trying to pass at the same time from opposite directions, it would have been a mess. Plus, how hard would it have been to make a sign that said, "Warning! Two-way traffic! Keep right" huh? All it would have taken is a piece of poster board and a sharpie. Poor management.

By that point, I'd added 2 miles to my race and all the women I'd passed had passed me back. One of my friends was so frustrated that she just turned around and went back. I think she'd had enough. But I persisted and finished out the second lap mostly uneventfully. Mostly.

I'd had a terrible day, in spite of beautiful weather and surroundings, and I was having a difficult time keeping my spirits up. I was grumpy. So I did the one thing that could make my day complete: I slid out on a gravelly corner coming down a hill into a sharp right turn. There wasn't much blood, and I didn't damage my kit or my bike, but I hit my head pretty hard. No flash of light or anything, but I figured my helmet was a lost cause at that point. I dedicated myself to riding cleanly for the rest of the race, because I really couldn't risk a second knock to the head.

I rode extra carefully on the creek crossing and made it through without ruining any more tires, and extra carefully around the corner where the really bad crash had been on the previous lap. Made it to the final climb within site of a BikenetiCX rider. Spectators were egging us on to sprint to the finish, so we tried our best. I grabbed the guy's wheel, but just as I was getting ready to pull around him, some dumbass on a mountain bike rode right out in front of us. Without looking! On the finishing straight! I hit my brakes so I wouldn't hit him, and that was my race. A fitting end to that day, all around.

I would tell you how I placed, but the race director hasn't gotten them up yet. He sent an e-mail yesterday that basically said, "Shame on all of you for wanting your race results when one of your fellow racers is in the hospital clinging to life! You should all be thinking of her and praying for her instead of wanting your race results." Which didn't sit well with me. I agree that her health and recovery is waaaaay more important than knowing whether or not I finished DFL in this event, but what does that have to do with him? Is he at the hospital every day? Is he spending all his free time praying? How does her recovery affect his ability to get the results done? And it would have been so easy to handle this in a way that kept people happy instead of putting their backs up. He could have said, "Hey guys, sorry the results are taking so long. You probably know by now that we had a really bad crash, and one of our fellow racers is in the hospital clinging to life. I'm doing my best to get results out, but they're kind of messed up since we had to stop the race for 20 minutes for the helicopter evacuation. I promise I'll keep working and get the results up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please keep our fellow athlete in your thoughts and prayers." See? I would have so much more patience if he'd said that instead of "Shame on you."

Bah. This was a terrible race. I did not have fun, and I don't think I'm the only one. I won't be doing Monster Cross again.

<--End of rant-->

Race Report: IM 70.3 KS 2010

Okay, so this race wasn't all I hoped it would be. I didn't reach my goals. I didn't have a great race, or even a good race. But I'm over it now, and I finally feel ready to break it down. Let's try to figure out where I went wrong.

Pre-race
By far the best part of the weekend. The Photographer and I headed up to Lawrence Friday night, set up camp, and settled in for an awesome time. Dinner was baked potatoes and chicken rubbed with herbs and pan-grilled over an open flame (provided by yours truly's awesome wilderness survival skills). Temperature was just right--not too hot, not too cold.

Saturday was too hot. Biggest mistake I made was taking my T-shirt off, without considering the fact that I didn't have sunblock on my shoulders, stomach, or back. I got a little crispy. Activities included registration and check-in, an athlete meeting (at which we learned that the water was too warm for wetsuits--yay!), swimming in the lake (temperature was just right), and bike check-in/body marking (which is pointless the day before; my numbers always rub off). Saturday night, my teammate and her family joined us at the campsite, and we finished the evening with yoga, cous cous, grilled bell peppers, and Italian sausage.

Sunday morning dawned cooler--downright, cold, relative to the day before. First thing I did was put on my warm ups. I went through the process of lubing, dressing, sunblocking, and dropping everything I needed off in transition. Race seemed a little less well-organized this year than last year; getting through the maul of people trying to enter T1 was downright dangerous. I've never before cut it so close with my pre-race prep, in terms of getting everything done before transition closed. I borrowed a guy's bike pump right at the last minute to check my tire pressure (good thing, too).

I really had to go to the bathroom, but of course there weren't enough johns to go around. So I stood in line for 20 minutes until I decided that I couldn't wait any longer, at which point I figured I would go after the swim, and started stuffing myself into my wetsuit. Oh yeah! Did I mention that water temperature the day of the race was 77.5* F? So wetsuit legal. I seriously debated whether or not to wear mine, but decided in the end to take the advantage of buoyancy and lower drag, at the risk of overheating. The swim waves started a good 10 minutes late with the pros. I was in wave 8, and was rushing down at the last minute (again, because I'd hoped to get into the potty before I had to swim). I had a random stranger zip me into my wetsuit. I returned the favor. Then it was into the water.

Swim: 1.2 miles, 41:16 (2:08/100 m; last year 39:34)
I think the wetsuit was a mistake. Despite the supposed advantages of swimming in a wetsuit, I would much prefer swimming without one, given the choice. I find the suit constricting for my arms and shoulders. I suppose I should invest in a sleeveless suit, if that's the case. But that takes money, and money is something that I would prefer to spend on race entry fees, right now. At any rate, I had issues with the wetsuit. The first was that it was chafing the sunburn I got all around my mid-section the day before. I had an itchy, burny patch on either side of my low back that started to hurt about a third of the way in.

I didn't have any of the problems I had last year. My goggles didn't fog over. I had no trouble sighting. I didn't get caught by the next swim waves and swum over. I felt smooth and strong and confident the whole way out and back. Which is why I'm surprised that my time was slower than last year. I guess there was a little bit of chop, and a little bit of a current on the way back. But I don't know that it was enough to make up for that 1:30 that I lost over last year. Even so, I felt strong coming out of the water, and good about my swim.

T1: 3:33 (last year, 2:56)
But I had to poop. Bad. First thing out of the water, I stripped off my wetsuit and headed for the nearest port-a-john. Fortunately there wasn't a line. I did my business as quickly as possible, and finished exiting my wetsuit right outside the toilet. I ran to my bike (doing my best elite impression and passing all the slow-poke walkers). Then it took me for-ev-er to get all my stuff together for the bike leg. I had trouble getting my helmet and sunglasses lined out, then had trouble getting my spare tube, tire levers, and frame pump into my back pocket. I couldn't get my race belt to snap. I wasn't shaking or anything, but with the clumsiness I demonstrated, I felt downright palsied. So in spite of foregoing socks and having all of my nutrition on my bike ahead of time, I still had a slower transition than last year. But, you know. Pooping.

Bike: 56 miles, 3:01:59 (18.5 MPH, last year 2:56:32)
And this is where the wheels started to come off. I did okay for the first 25 miles or so. I was following my nutrition strategy (2 Fig Newtons every half hour, water as often as I wanted it, salt pills every hour). And then, shortly after the first aid station, I lost a bottle. I think I know where it happened. I was coming down a hill at a high rate of speed, and hit a bump at the bottom. It jarred me a little bit, but I didn't hear anything bounce out, and no one around me said anything. At that point, I had one water bottle (empty), and one Gatorade bottle from an aid station. I lost the bottle that actually had fluid in it. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until it was time for my next salt pill. I reached back for the bottle, so I could swallow the salt pill, and . . . nothing. So I had that damn pill lodged in the back of my throat until such time as the casing dissolved. It took about 15 minutes. I thought about asking cyclists I passed for a drink of their water, but I wasn't sure if that might count as illegal aid. The worst (funniest?) part was that after the casing of the pill had dissolved, I burped, and totally gleeked salt powder. Guess what? Salt pills? Actually salty!

I was without water for probably about half an hour, worrying the whole time that I was getting dehydrated (I was, by the way). When I finally came upon the next aid station, I grabbed a water bottle for each cage, and sucked a third down right then and there. Shortly after that, I realllllly had to pee. I stopped at the third (and final) aid station to use the port-a-potty. I did (for the record) try to pee on the bike, but no dice. I guess I need to practice that one in training, first.

There was a mandatory dismount on the bike where some oil had been spilled on the road. We had to slow down and carry our bikes around, then re-mount and get going again. Taking that and the potty break into account, I might have equaled my average speed from last year. But that six-minute deficit . . . I don't know. That's much slower.

The fact is, I was underprepared for the course, this year. Last year, I spent a week in the middle of Ohio training physically and mentally resting. I got in some good, long rides in the hills that week. And I spent time out near Latham/Atlanta (the nearest place to find even moderately rolling terrain around here) with friends, training for the hills at Lawrence. Last year, I remember thinking that the difficulty of the course was exagerrated; it didn't seem that tough to me. This year, that course kicked my ass and ate my lunch. Those last few hills, my legs were toast. And I knew this, coming into the run course. I fully believed that run was going to suck major monkey balls. And I was sick to my stomach, and tired. I seriously wondered how I was going to make the transition to running.

T2: 2:26 (last year, 6:09)
Finally! Something I did faster than last year!

Run: 13.1 miles, 2:19:10 (10:38/mile, last year 2:20:21)
The answer to how you make the transition is just to do it. Get in, get out, and get going. If your feet feel like bricks attached to your hips by soggy noodles, run anyway. If your stomach is upset, run anyway. If you think you'll never be able to make it, run anyway. And that's what I did; I ran. I felt awful, but I ran. I told myself that I just had to make it to the first aid station, and then I could walk. I hit the first mile in under 10 minutes, and held my head a little higher after that.

My stomach and legs settled down a little bit after the first big downhill (about 2.5 miles in). I think I ran out of 10-minute miles around mile 3 or 4. After that, I stopped looking at my watch; I decided I didn't want to know. Besides which, my watch strap broke, so my watch was just hanging out in my back jersey pocket with two disintegrated salt pills. Ew.

It was around mile 5 that I started to feel awesome. I always catch a second wind from (about) miles 5-8. At this race, the effect was almost instant; it was just after the 4 mile marker that I started to feel awesome. I said hi to my friends on the course, shouting out encouragement and skipping for my cheering fans who were screaming my name. And the best part was that my Photographer got to see me at that point, at my best.

There were a few things that I did this year that I hadn't managed last year: I ran full-tilt down the big hill both times (last year I couldn't muster the energy to careen down the hill on the second loop), and I ran most of the uphill both times (all but the steepest part). I didn't experience the debilitating cramps that slowed me to a near-crawl last year. More than anything, the last 2 miles, I was just exhausted. I wasn't necessarily hurting; I just couldn't move anymore. It was partly physical, but I think mostly mental. My brain was done long before my body. You know what I didn't do in training this year? Really long bricks. And I think that's what really did me in.

Still, I beat my run time from last year, even if it was by only a minute. And when I came across the line, there was my Photographer, waiting with open arms. That in itself was worth it.

Post-race
Carnage. Not immediately, but also not long after. I sat in an ice bath with a dozen other athletes for a while, and felt fine during that. But I was still sick to my stomach, and had to go to the bathroom again. Did I mention I was on my period again, this year? Yeah. Someone's pheromones screwed up my cycle. So even though the race was a week earlier this year, I still had to race with Mother Nature's monthly gift. Thanks, Mama N. That was really special.

After 5 or 10 minutes in the ice bath, I staggered back to our campsite and proceeded to lay down in the shade. I knew that I should eat something right away, but the thought of food was totally off-putting. I managed to eat a few bites of leftover cous cous, but not enough really to recover. I dozed in the shade while my Photographer was kind enough to go to T1 and T2 to pick up all my gear. By the time she was back, I had stirred myself (slowly and fitfully) enough to pack up the tent. We took the next couple hours to pack up the car. And then we hit the road. She drove. I slept.

When I got back to my house at about 7 p.m., I showered, changed, and collapsed on the couch, ostensibly to read. Of course I fell asleep. Slept straight through the night, about 11 hours total. Woke up and went to work to teach cycling class. After class, took a nap in my car. Saw a few clients. Took another nap in my car. Went home that night and was in bed by 10. I started to feel human again sometime on Tuesday. It took me until Wednesday to recover from my dehydration.

The worst part has been the aftermath. I didn't feel like I did as well as I should have done. My main goal was to go under 6 hours. With the speeds I'd been running, all I really needed to do was maintain on the swim and bike, knock a few minutes off of T2, and run the half marathon I knew I had in me. But that didn't happen. Part of that was on the day. It was unbearably hot; I wasn't the only one who really suffered out there. Last year's ideal conditions allowed me to have a really good first experience, and these conditions were much tougher. Given similar conditions, maybe I would have had a more pleasing performance.

But part of it was that I wasn't as well-prepared for the race this year. The past 6 weeks, I've been unmotivated in training, particularly with long workouts. And I didn't feel good, after the race. Not just physically. But mentally and emotionally. I was happy to be done. But I didn't feel a sense of accomplishment and joy like I have in the past. Maybe it's because I didn't meet my goals. But then at Emporia, I did meet my goals--I had a significant PR and got 2nd overall--and I still wasn't happy about it. So maybe this is more than just one bad race; maybe it's time I took an extended vacation from triathlon.

At any rate, racing aside, I had a great weekend. It was unspeakably wonderful to have the Photographer's support throughout the weekend. I saw a bunch of friends, a bunch of fellow athletes, several of whom came out for the exclusive purpose of cheering. We had a fun weekend camping. It was all-around enjoyable.

And I'm coming to terms with the disappointment of the race. I'm even starting to feel the itch to try again, to do better next time. But I wonder if that's a good thing; maybe I just need to take a year off, let that itch build, until I'm ready to come back and really train again.

By the way, pictures to come, as soon as the Photographer gets them to me :-)

Post-race: IM KS 70.3 2010

I don't want to talk about it.

Race Report: Not 4 Wimps

Note: This picture does not accurately convey the misery that is a 42 MPH headwind.

Well, the best I can say is that I'm not a wimp.

But looking back, I kind of wish I were.

Sunday morning, I woke up to the sound of the tree outside my bedroom scratching against the house. Mind you, this tree is not next to my window. No, this tree is next to a solid exterior wall that sits right next to my bed. When I can hear the wind whipping it around, it means it's indecently windy out there. Indecently, I say.

But since the Not 4 Wimps 10 miler is a trail run, I figured we'd be running in woods, protected from the wind for most of the race.

Yeah, not so much.

The course begins with a mile of pavement, mostly downhill, that leads down into some ATV trails that run along the Arkansas River. You run under a bridge (through sand), then back up onto the trails, which wind along for some miles through the woods (woods being a relative term here; it's still Kansas, after all). Turn around point for the 10k gives you a tough choice. If you decide to continue with the 10 mile, the course heads out (and up) onto a levee on the west side of the river. The levee is completely exposed on both sides, probably 15-20 ft above ground level. There are no trees. No windbreaks. No shelter. The course takes you directly north and west.

Did I mention that the wind was gusting from the NNW at about 40 MPH?

The course continues for about 1.5 miles like that, then you turn around and head back the way you came.

So . . . my race.

First off, the course starts downhill, and I probably went out too hard. I was running with a group from my gym, not really paying attention to speed. I was running comfortably, so I figured I'd be fine. I got dropped by the main group (this is not the kind of race that casual runners do, so it's not like there's a big group of 12-minute-milers for me to pass), but I was passing people, especially as we got into the technical sections--the sand, the winding trails, the up- and downhills.

It might have been the sand that really took me out of my comfort zone. I just tried to maintain a steady pace. Probably what I should have done was walk. About 5 minutes later, my stomach started to get really cranky. Really, really cranky. I've never cramped like that in a race, especially not at 2.5 miles into it. I was doubled over, holding my gut and wondering if I should just turn around and go back. I didn't, of course, but I got to see all the people I'd passed before as they blew by me.

I seriously re-adjusted my expectations, at this point. No longer was the goal to see how well I could do; now the goal was to see whether or not I could even make it through.

I got to the 10k turnaround/water stop, and seriously considered packing it in. It was not going to be a fun race, for me. Might as well throw in the towel, preserve what I could of my day, and head back early. But the name of the race is Not 4 Wimps, and damned if I was going to be a wimp about it.

Had I known where exactly the course was going, I may have chosen differently.

I have never run in winds like that. I've cycled in winds like that, but usually when the conditions are that bad, I just postpone a workout. It's not worth it to go out and have a crappy run just to say I got in my 10 miles for the day. So I would never willingly subject myself to the kind of suffering that I endured on that 1.5 mile stretch. There were times when I was moving my legs and not moving forward at all. Like running on a treadmill.

The real low point, though, was when I got a rock in my shoe and stopped to shake it out. The wind blew me over, and I realized suddenly (and painfully) that the levee is a prime spot for sand burrs. So I sat down to brush those off of my gloves and sock (so that I could put my shoe back on). But you know what? Sand burrs will also stick to your butt. I spent a good 5 minutes there trying to pull all of those damned stickers out of my hands, foot, and ass. Meanwhile, everyone passed me (including the cute girl I met before the race, who smiled and asked, "Did you fall?" as she breezed by me going the other direction).

The race got marginally better after the turnaround. Having a 40 MPH tailwind to push you along sure helps. But my gut still hurt like none other, and I still had to keep stopping to let the stomach cramps work their way out. Apologies to the few runners who were still behind me at that point. I know I was upwind from you. Sorry.

Stomach cramps got to be too much for me to bear somewhere between miles 7 and 8 (I think; my memory's kind of hazy). I started looking for a . . . secluded place. You know. Off the trail. Where no one could see me. Yes, I did. I had to. I felt a lot better afterwards. Dirty, though.

After my Alone Time, I felt able to run again, and finished the race relatively strong. Final time was 1:50:22 for an average pace of 11:02/mile. Pbthhhhh. That's what I think of my time. I mean, any time was probably great for this race, considering the course and the conditions. But I'm still not pleased with the way I performed, even factoring out the time spent picking sand burrs out of my body (still have splinters in my right middle finger, by the way) and (erm) squatting. It was a shitty run (and if you are a good person, you will ignore that pun).

In short, this was the worst race I've ever done (only thing worse was when Shawnee Mission got rained out last year, but I don't think that counts). And if wimpiness = whinyness, then I am the biggest wimp ever.

Diamond Blackfan Cross Challenge: DNS

Another race missed due to the bum ankle.

Also I had a shitty date.

Race Report: Wichita Cyclocross Weekend, Day 1

I shouldn't have tried to do this race.

I was taking one more lap to practice the course before we started staging. I didn't really want to (it hurt!), but I figured I should make the best of my last 15 minutes and not let my body get cold. Coming up on the second set of barriers, I was moving too fast. I didn't release my right foot in time. My front wheel ran into the barrier. My bike tried to go up and over. My foot tried to stay in the same place. My ankle sort of got caught in the middle.

It seems like I have a pretty hardcore sprain. I've got a puffy, flesh-colored tennis ball connecting my shin to my foot. It was extremely painful for a while. Like crying and quivering kind of painful. Now it's just faded to a dull ache. Hurts to dorsiflex.

As soon as I could (probably about the time the ibuprofen kicked in, actually), I got up and started walking around. USAT club championship is tomorrow at Redman; I was slated to race the sprint. I figured that if nothing else, I could walk the 5k, assuming I could walk. Driving home from the race, I was convincing myself that I could do it, that I should at least drive down to Oklahoma City and see how I felt tomorrow.

My best friend, who broke her ankle freshman year of college (it's still not back to normal), talked me back out of it again. She pointed out that if I tried to walk/run tomorrow, I might damage the ankle further; I might damage it permanently. And she also questioned whether I should really try driving on the interstate (this is my right foot, we're talking about). Sure, I can depress the brake and the accelerator. But if something ran out in front of me and I had to brake quickly, would I be able to?

Ultimately, it's not worth the risk. Redman was important to me, but it's probably not worth the potential long-term problems that running (ha! hobbling) on it at this stage might cause.

So I'm sitting at home with frozen vegetables wrapped around my ankle, which is propped up on a chair.

And the worst part is that I don't even get to try out my new, over-priced, team custom Oakleys.

(Um, actually the worst part is that this is the end of my tri season and I was in great shape for it. But the sunglasses thing is funnier.)

The Countdown

T minus 5 days.

Bad bad bad.

Short of broken bones, amputation, or major surgery, the worst possible thing has happened.

I got the flu.

Last night I went to the cadaver lab with a group of massage therapists to learn about muscles. I did fine with seeing dead bodies all cut open, but had a little trouble with the smell. After two hours in the lab, I was feeling a little queasy. On the way home, I rolled the windows down and breathed in some fresh air, but it didn't help much. I was afraid I was going to have to pull over on the highway and throw up.

Got home and just wished that I could bring up whatever was making me feel so sick. Around 10:30, I finally did. Then again, every couple hours or so, the whole night long. I couldn't lay on my sides without feeling sick. I got terrible muscle spasms in my back. I was painfully dehydrated. I started thinking about going to the hospital; I even thought, "What if I'm dying." Needless to say, I was not at my most rational.

I've been done with the vomiting since early this morning, but my muscles are still sore and tender to the touch. I'm running a slight fever. I feel about 50%, right now. I don't know if it was the field trip to the anatomy lab that made me sick, or if it was food poisoning. I went swimming on Sunday at Lake Afton and got a few mouthfuls of water; maybe it was that. My dad just thinks I got the flu.


Whatever the cause, this is terrible timing. I'm weak and dehydrated at a time when I should be building my reserves of strength. I just hope I have time to re-hydrate and rebuild all the energy I've lost before Sunday's race.

"Runner's High": Feeling Low

Sometimes you start too early.

Sometimes you finish too late.

Sometimes you allow yourself to become burnt out in almost every aspect of your life.

Sometimes your heart calls you far, far away with so loud and distracting a voice that you can't concentrate on anything around you.

Sometimes you get hurt. Injured. Taken out.

Sometimes life derails your plans, then pushes you down and takes your milk money for good measure.

Know what? Sometimes everything sucks. You don't finish races (or don't get to start them, because they're canceled or sold out). You can't work out because of some stupid, bullshit, recurring injury. You get confused about why you even bother. You wonder whether you really love swimming, biking, running, or any combination of physical activities. You think maybe it's just become habit (or it's your job).

Sometimes the next step forward is too difficult to think about, too much to bear, too big to take.

I'm not sure I'm ready for inspiration, yet. Because sometimes you need to walk it out, go inside, figure out whether or not you really have the grit to finish a long run. A 5k. An Ironman. Whatever it may be.

The grit's in there, though. Just need to find it.

Story Time

Eventually, Wednesdays will (I hope!) become recipe days. Or at the very least, FOOOOOD days. Because (honestly) most of my recipes just involve rooting around in the refrigerator, throwing anything good I find in a pot, and pouring it over brown rice or whole-wheat pasta.

Anyways. This week I have something MUCH more interesting to relate. So pull up a floor pillow and I will magically read you the book AND show you the pictures at the same time (seriously, didn't you always wonder how your kindergarten teacher could do that?) . . .


(By the way, the little squatty guy represents where I got hit by the car.)


Monday morning. I'm running east on Central at about 7:40 a.m. (you know, before the UNGODLY heat set in). I hadn't brought my sunglasses, so I had my hat pulled low over my eyes to keep the sun out of my face. In other words, I can't see much more than five feet in front of me. I'm crossing a driveway (and there are like a dozen driveways there) when I notice that there is a car RIGHT NEXT TO MY FREAKIN' LEGS. My first thought is "What a jackass, stopping so close to me like that!" 

But then I realize that he isn't stopping. I'm still running, trying to get past the front bumper of his car, and start banging on the hood and saying, "HEY! I'M HERE! STOP!" But still doesn't see me (um, or hear me, wtf). I look through the windshield, and he has his head turned right and his attention focused that-a-way. 

He does NOT see me. 

And all this time, the car's still moving forward, and I'm still trying to get past him. Finally, his car nudges my legs out from under me, I go tumbling over the hood, and land on my right hand. Still doesn't stop. I see him turn left into one of those driveways on the south side of Central (I was on the north sidewalk), and I'm still standing there, giving the now-empty road this look like, "What the fuck, jackass?!" 

A lady pulled into one of the driveways--she'd seen the whole thing--and asked if I was okay. And I was. But I was MAD. It's a good thing he didn't stop, because I was not in the mood to say anything very nice, and I don't think that would have made the situation any better (even though it was totally well-deserved). But as it was, I didn't have to worry about it, so I just ran the rest of the way back to the gym.

Later that day, I went to the police department to file a report. And they said that he had called in his side of the report also, so I guess he wasn't a jackass after all. I figure he probably turned around and came back, but by that time I was already gone. I have his phone number (the police gave it to me). Now I just need to figure out what the hell to say to someone who ran over me with his car.

I have a little bruise on my index finger, a big bruise on my elbow, and the right side of my neck and shoulder is really tight (I landed on my right arm when I dove over the hood of his car)--knotted up all over. I was sort of freaked out once my neck tightened up like that (didn't happen until yesterday morning), but it's starting to fade away now (helped along by my awesome masseuse), so I think that it's all superficial. I don't have health insurance right now, so I'll have to call the guy who hit me and figure out that whole mess so I can go get the ol' neck looked at.

Also I have a blister on the little toe of my right foot. But that is unrelated :-)


And that, boys and girls, is the story of the second time I've been hit by a car. Both times I've been remarkably lucky. Let's hope that there's no "third time's a charm" principle at work here.

T minus 3

I race Topeka Tinman on Saturday.

And right now, I just don't care.

EDIT:: How 'bout that. Turns out all I needed was a little run!

Meh.

Sigh . . .



I need some inspiration.

RAW: Days 6 and 7

Yesterday was race day. I ate mostly raw, but scarfed up whatever was on hand, right after (oranges, bananas, granola bars, gatorade) and celebrated by having a nice (COOKED!) dinner with my dad. Race report to follow.

Today is not going well. I am sick of eating frickin' leafy greens, but trying to stay away from too much dried fruit to avoid the simple sugars. I'm currently munching on mushrooms. Furthermore, I feel hostile towards the entire raw community. I've been surfing message boards, reading chirpy posts, and wanting to punch all those raw food nuts in the face. Not so much enjoying this lifestyle, at the moment.

Finally, I've been trying to find some solid evidence on the benefits of a living food diet. I know the basic theory: heating food above 118 F for longer than 3 minutes denatures the protein, caramelizes the sugar, and destroys the enzymes that are built into the food to help it be digested. But I would like to see some data on the actual science behind this. Every article I've found on line strikes me as a knee-jerk, defensive, propagandistic, and even fanatical. I get that this is something people really believe in; maybe it's something I could believe in. I've even found a few good articles, and I think, "Okay, I can buy that . . . but if you have studies, show me references." Because I don't want to be preached at; I want some facts.

I hope things start looking up in the next 3 weeks, because at this rate, I'm never going to want to eat raw veg again!

Zen and the Art of Swimming -or- How to Turn that Frown Upside Down

I have never gotten a ticket.

The closest I've ever come to a vehicular citation was when some power-trippin' USC campus parking official cited me for "parking" my car in a no parking zone (never mind the fact that everyone stops there to pick people up, and I was clearly standing just a few yards away, waiting for a friend to come down from her dormitory). So when I got pulled over for running a red light (you ever spend a couple seconds looking directly at a yellow light without realizing it's yellow? Yeah, I don't think that should seem too extraordinary at 5:15 am), it didn't exactly make my day.

In fact, it totally sucked. I didn't want to go into the gym and teach my track workout, I didn't want to cry (and I was crying, as I pulled into the parking lot) in front of all the awesome athletes I coach, and I really, really didn't want to do my scheduled endurance swim.

I dragged myself into the locker room, changed grumpily into my swimming suit, and clomped out to the aquatics area like a sulking four-year-old. I kept telling myself that I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to swim, it's recovery week anyway so what will it matter if I skip my workout . . . I forced myself to climb into the pool, thinking, "Aw, man, it's gonna be so cold" (the pool is never cooler than 81 degrees), and reassured myself, bracingly, that it's a short workout this week and I would only be in the pool for 45 minutes or so.

Warmed up 100 swim, pull, kick. Drilled for 600 yards, which went by sooooo slowly. Then got into my main set: 3x300 time trial to establish a T-pace for my swim intervals, which I start incorporating hardcore next week.

And I worked my ass off on those intervals. Somewhere in that first 300, I zoned out and could only feel my legs and arms swishing through the water, my heart and lungs pounding to get oxygen out to my limbs. It didn't feel effortless, by any means, but it felt good. And by the end of that workout, I felt awesome, and I didn't really care that I got my first ticket ever.

Also, I swam my 300s in 5:35, 5:25, 5:35, which--if you'll remember that I was swimming my 200s in 4:15 last week--I felt really proud of.

Race Report: Derby Rec Center Indoor Triathlon

Well, this was a good end to a craptastic week.

The Derby Rec Center indoor tri is an annual, local event, very small and low-key. 500 yd indoor pool swim, 6 mile (I know, right) bike on a stationary trainer, 2 mile (20 lap) run on an indoor track. Certainly the smallest (and shortest!) race I've ever done. But I don't care. It was awesome.

My heat began at 8:30 (the heats were leaving on a half-hour interval, seeded by time, beginning at 8:00), so I left my house at 7:30, hoping to get to the DRC at around 8:00. Well . . . that didn't happen. Because I slid off the road and got stuck in a ditch. I ran the mile back home, swearing all the way and wondering what I ever did to God (actually, let's not get into that). My dad came back with his truck and we spent the next hour and a half trying to get my car (his car, actually, because the key to my car snapped off in the ignition last night while I was at Wal-Mart getting a tire repaired . . . see? crummy week) unstuck. We finally got the car out of the ditch when a couple guys in a four-wheel-drive truck came by. It took them about five minutes to take care of it. Very nice of them. And of course, by this time it was 8:45, I'd missed my heat, and I was wondering whether I should go and try to squeeze into a later heat, or take it as a sign from the universe and crawl back into bed.

I drove around the block once (which is 4 miles, by the way), and the car was rattling because of the mud and snow that had built up around the wheels. I took that as my final sign and headed back home. "Wake me up when it's spring," I told my dad, as I came back into the house. I sat down at my computer to check my e-mail, and there was the pre-race e-mail . . . heat times, race day instructions, and all. It was about 9:00, at this point, but I thought . . . I've never, ever had a DNS. I have to at least go and try to get into the race.

And I'm very glad that I did.

Swim: 500 yd - 9:48
The time is approximate. My official split was 11:11, but that included my transition time. I know for sure that when I came out of the pool area, my timer (we each had our own timer) told me that I was at 9 something. Oddly enough, because I got squeezed into the last (fifth) heat, I ended up in the same lane as Rich, one of the guys in my spinning class, who's just getting into triathlon from cycling. It was really cool to have someone to kid around with pre-race, especially since this was the first race I've done where I had neither team nor family to accompany me. I felt confident and strong going through the swim, like I was giving it my all the whole time, but not wearing myself out too much for the bike and run. However, I wasn't entirely happy with my form. There were times when I felt like my legs were heavy and my head was up. I think it's because I was being lazy about my core stability; when I tightened my core, my body position evened out. Also, I was unimpressed with my breathing--every other stroke (I normally try to do every 3, to practice bilateral breathing). But I have to admit . . . I really like the pool swims; don't have to worry about dodging other people or fighting through packs of slow-pokes. You can just put your head down and swim. And that's what I did.

Bike: 6 miles - 19:00 minutes
The bike was mentally difficult. First of all, we were on LeMond trainers with a display panel that counts down the miles. However, the amount of resistance you use doesn't affect how quickly you complete the distance, so the best strategy is to spin along with no resistance and a high cadence. Which is hard to do for 20 minutes straight. I started to space out, and my cadence would dip down to 128 or so. It's a crazy thing to do to triathletes, no? We spend so much stinking time pedaling at the ideal cadence (whatever that is for you; for me, it's around 95) in the biggest gear we can manage. That's just how we train. So to put a triathlete on a bike and tell them to pedal their legs off for 20 minutes with absolutely no resistance . . . just silly. Anyway, it was fun, because all 10 of us in the fifth heat were in a long line together, so there was a little bit of banter to be had. And once again, I was right next to Rich, which was fun (even though I thought that he was going to kill himself; he was pounding away at 140-145 RPM the whole time). So the bike was less than ideal, but I felt like I did well.

Run: 2 miles - 18:18
Once again, this time includes the transition, so it's not entirely accurate. I know that my mile splits were both under 9:00 (the first was 8:51). Running on a 1/10 mile track for two miles is torture. But I felt that I pushed my body, and managed to maintain a high level of pain throughout (although I never pushed through that to a new level, which is always what I'm looking to do in short races). And sub-9 is the best pace I've ever set for a triathlon where the run comes at the end (I did 8:34 at the CSULB reverse sprint)! Also--a fun bonus--the track was upstairs (you know, wrapping around the gym), separated from a weight and cardio room by a low wall; the floor behind that wall, in between the track and the cardio room, was blue, so it had the azure, finish-chute feel.

But the best part of the day was that I got first place in my age group, with a time of 48:36! Well, allow me to add some caveats: the woman who was actually fastest in my age group got third place overall, which means that she was taken out of the running for age-group awards. She was a minute faster than me (if only I hadn't worn socks . . .), but I'm pretty sure, because of her placement, that I got fourth overall. And okay, there were only fifty people racing, and there were only four or five people in my age group, but I really don't care. I got first in my age group!

And I'm sure you could guess, but this really turned my day around. I mean, I still had to go pull a six-hour shift at the rock wall, but I was in a much better mood about it today. So I hope that this small triumph will be enough to pull me out of what has been a really terrible week. After my car went into the ditch this morning, I was afraid that the bad week was going to expand into a terrible month or something. But I feel much more motivated, now, to work harder at not letting any bad aspects of life spiral out of my reach and take over my whole outlook.

We Are Triathletes!

We are insatiable. We are unstoppable. We are not deterred by wind, rain, or snow.

We do not let the insignificant ephemeralities of normal, daily life detract from our goals. We do not give up, even under severe conditions. We do not stop moving. We do not have limits.

We are fitness machines. We are eating machines. We are not going to let silly things like cold weather stop our training schedules.

We are bad-ass.

We are . . . canceling our indoor triathlon because the ground is a little slippery.

Seriously, Wichita West YMCA, WTF?

Too Much

Now wouldn't it be ridiculous if I got all overtrained when I'm not even (technically) training for anything?

This morning, I commuted by bike for the first time. It's a 17 or 18 mile bike ride from my house to Genesis, which I didn't think was too bad. And I gave myself an hour and a half to get there, so I knew I didn't have to rush.

But I really should have thought better than to commute by bike to teach a spinning class.

As a result, I felt like the energy was way down for my class; this is the first time ever that I have not wanted to really push it in my spinning class, and I think it was hard for my students to go as far as they could have as a result. Besides which, I think the workout I planned was just too hard. Last week's was really difficult, too (but difficult in a way that was much more fun). So I think that next week I'll try to make my class more fun. Still intense, but more fun. Today felt like work, and I don't want it to be a place where clients enjoy being.

I guess I need to recognize that I'm not going to be perfect at this teaching thing (even though I think I'm pretty naturally suited for it). Some days, I'm going to mess up. And hopefully I don't chase a bunch of my regulars off. But maybe the small failures are worthwhile if I learn from them.

Blech

It has been raining all day. Quite literally, all day. There is a small lake in my driveway. So much for the bike-run brick.

And I know that I would feel much better if I were to just make the 30 minute drive through the driving rain to the gym and do an hour or so of technique work and an hour or so of spinning and an hour or so on the treadmill, but I just can't seem to summon the energy.

Blech. Too much food, too much rain, not enough sunshine and training. Maybe, after so many months in sunny L.A., the rain affects my psyche more than it used to.

Checking In

Notes on the day:

Today is my first day back on training after a week of full recovery. I didn't intend to be so sedentary this past week. A combination of rain, wind, and no gym access has prevented my general training. Unfortunately, this week of recovery hasn't felt as good as I would like. I've been unexpectedly sore and achy, stiff and unenergetic. And then today I went for a 6-mile run and had an absolutely horrible time! I was running as slow as I reasonably could--12:00 min/mile--and my heartrate was still creeping up to 165, 170 bpm. And with my LSD runs, I would like to keep my heartrate under 150. But there was no in between; either I was walking until my heart rate came back down to 135 or I was running at 172. I couldn't run slowly enough to keep my heart rate down.

Normally, when my heartrate creeps up unreasonably like that, it's a symptom that I've been overtraining. But I just came off a week of recovery. The problem might be a lack of fitness, but I would be very surprised if I lost that much fitness so quickly, after just one week. So here's my theory: "‘That time of the month’ (or even the few days preceding it) is not the time when women run their worst. The hardest time for women to run fast is about a week before menstruation begins (a week after ovulation). That’s when levels of the key hormone progesterone peak, inducing a much-higher-than-normal breathing rate during exercise. The excess ventilation tends to make running feel more difficult." (link) I'm guessing that my decreased performance is related in some way to my menstrual cycle. At least, I hope it's that and not detraining.

I have two weeks of training left before I taper for Shawnee Mission. I'm starting to get nervous and excited. I really, really want to make the most out of these next two weeks, so that I'm at my absolute peak and can give my absolute best.

www.triathlon.org broadcasts live from its world cup ITU races. So I am watching the Round 7 race at Des Moines. Isn't great that we have the technology to be able to watch triathlons, track and field, swimming, and other sports ESPN thinks its too good for?

I am not dead

I am only preparing for graduation, which is two weeks from Friday.

My watch/heart rate monitor has a feature which will cause it to scroll "GET MOTIVATED!" across the screen if I go more than three days without exercising, and last night I saw it for the very first time.

My nutrition and training have been all but non-existent since Friday (when I ran 4 miles in 39 minutes, thank you very much). Tomorrow I will be trying to get three workouts in; it's been too long, and I have a race on Sunday!

Hanging in there.