Race Report: Ironman 70.3 Kansas

This was one of the best things I've ever done in my life. One of the coolest. One of the most rewarding. By far one of the greatest achievements. So here's what happened.

Pre-race
I had the awesome privilege of having my whole family at this race with me. My parents each took half a day off work to drive down on Friday night. My brother took a week off of playing bass for the church band to come watch. One of my athletes, Karlene, and her husband shared our campsite. We had a good group.

My family drove down on Friday afternoon, arrived at the camp site around 6:30, and set up our space. My dad is a camping ninja. He climbed a dead tree to find us some firewood. He cooked pork loin with potatoes and sweet potatoes in a dutch oven. We had a Greek salad with tomatoes and cucumber. Peach cobbler for dessert. And then we sat around the fire and talked until it was time for bed.

I slept horrendously on Friday night. The ground was hard and I couldn't get comfortable and there were four of us crammed into that tent and my dad snores and my mom is a chronic insomniac and there was just so much . . . human in there. I prefer not to be in the presence of a lot of human at once when I'm sleeping. It bothers me.

So I didn't get very good rest on Friday, and it sort of freaked me out, because I knew that I was going to have the same kind of sleeping conditions on Saturday night. And even though I know that you have to get good rest for a good week prior to an event in order to perform your best, there's still a need for good sleep the night immediately before.

Saturday saw pancakes for breakfast, the Rock Chalk (Jayhawk!) 5k/10k runners coming past our campsite, and the arrival of Karlene and her husband, Virgil, along with both of our bikes! We picked up our packets just in time to totally miss the rush (the line went from a 5 minute wait to an hour wait shortly after we got checked in). We browsed through the surprisingly full expo section. We got lunch at a great barbecue place in Lawrence. Karlene and I went for a little bike ride, a little run. We dropped our bikes off at T1 and got body-marked (which was totally useless, by the way, because I just ended up with black smudges all over my legs and arms).

The best part about the whole process was that there were other people around the whole time. I didn't have to do anything in isolation. Even gathering my gear for the next day's activities was done with Karlene, the two of us reminding each other not to forget anything. It feels a lot different to be getting ready for a race with another athlete. And because there were many athletes camping near us, we got a chance to get ready with a handful of wonderful people.

And with all that going on, the camping and the family time and the getting to know other athletes and the time spent with friends was every bit as significant to me as the race itself.

And I got an awesome night's sleep on Saturday.

Race day
We woke up at 4 a.m. to a dark, cloudy sky with lightning in the distance. Fortunately, all of the storms went north and east of us, and all we got was a little sprinkle (and the light show). My dad and Virgil both woke up to join us for oatmeal with raisins. I ran off to the bath house to change into my kit and apply generous amounts of sunscreen and chamois butter. I was expecting a crowd of people in the bathroom, but I only saw one other woman getting ready.

Karlene was a little jumpy, but I was totally mellow. I didn't have the butterflies, the nerves, the feeling of "What the hell am I getting myself into?" that I was expecting. I was just kicking back in a lawn chair and eating my oatmeal. At 5, I gathered my stuff, wrangled Karlene, and we headed to T2 to drop off our running supplies. From there, Virgil and my dad joined us in the mile-long walk down to T1.

It seemed like I had brought an inordinate amount of stuff into transition with me. Bike pump, spare tube, helmet, shoes, nutrition, water bottles, towel, wetsuit. It took me a good 15 minutes to get everything where I wanted it. I aired up my tires, grabbed my Body Glide, and went to join the line for the port-a-johns.

After a long wait, when there were only about 3 people left in front of me, a USAT guy started announcing that they were going to close down transition. Why are those guys always such dicks? Just once, I'd like to encounter a race official who doesn't act like an asshole when preparing to close transition. I asked Karlene to go grab my wetsuit for me, so I wouldn't have to go back to it after I finished my very necesary moment.

I was struggling into my wetsuit with about 10 minutes left to go. Met a very nice woman from England (via Junction City, KS) who I'd already remarked on several occasions that morning because she was adorable. About 10 years too old for me, probably, but adorable. We chatted as we walked down to the boat ramp, where my parents caught me and wished me luck one more time. Then it was time to muscle my way through the mass of humanity to the cluster of white caps that matched my own.

Swim: 1.2 miles, 39:34 (2:02/100 m)
This was one of the cleanest swim starts I've ever had. I started off to the right, wanting to avoid the inevitable pummeling that I've seemed to receive lately. I swear, I was faster than most of the field a year ago. Now I feel like I'm being left in the dust. My starting position did the trick, and I was blessed with plenty of personal space for the first 900 m or so. The biggest problem I had was that my goggles were fogging up, and I couldn't see the buoys. So I was just relying on the people around me to head in the right general direction. Then when I was about 50 m from a buoy, I would finally be able to see it. I went through probably 500 m like that, then took enough time to stop and clean my goggles. After that, I could see fine.

I was coming up on the first turn at about the time the wave right behind mine started to catch up. At that point, my time of peaceful swimming was over. It was okay at the beginning, as the athletes who could actually swim passed me on either side. Then I started to get elbows to the sides, kicks in the jaw, and all the unpleasantness characteristic of swimming in a pack of large, masculine triathletes whose only objective is to make it through the swim without drowning themselves. How, I ask you, is it possible that these men were passing me?!

I didn't know my swim time until much later (I figured I came in at around 45 minutes), but it makes me very happy. I swam right at the pace I should have swam at, and it was practically effortless. It set me up well for the rest of the race, and it was a great way to begin.

T1: 2:56
Needless to say, I wasn't really hurrying, although the amount of time I spent in transition definitely became significant to me later. I had my wetsuit half off and my swim cap and goggles in hand practically as soon as I was out of the water, and was running past all the Clydes who had ambushed me in the last quarter of the swim. But once I got to my bike, I got very slow and methodical. I normally don't carry CO2 or a pump or a tube at races, but this ride would be long enough that I wanted that security. So I stuffed all that into my two tiny jersey pockets, sat down to put on socks (I know!) and shoes, double-checked to make sure all my stuff was in my transition bag so that I would actually get it back, then started running. I was parked at the far end of transition, so I had a long run in bike shoes; it's like running in high heels, which is why most women I know are better at it than men. Oh, and I ran into a guy whose butt was sticking out into the aisle while he was trying to get his wet suit off. Knocked him right on his ass. Sorry, dude.

Bike: 56 miles, 2:56:32 (19 MPH)
I had heard things about this course. I'd heard it was tough, that there were a lot of hills, that the whole thing really took it out of you. That was not my experience. I mean, there were a lot of hills (for Kansas). But they weren't the brutal hills of Wildflower. And they weren't the relentless rollers of the Latham loop. They were just hills, interspersed here and there on the course.

And what a course. The Iron Cross, which is apparently a popular loop around Lawrence, is gorgeous. It was ton of fun to ride. I would definitely consider it the highlight of this race.

I managed to lose my nutrition out of my Bento Box before we even got out of the state park. The thing is that I don't have an actual Bento Box; my dad made one for me for Christmas a couple years ago. Yeah, it's not perfect, but tell me you aren't jealous. My dad rocks. Anyway, keeping the thing closed and out of the way of my knees when I'm pedaling takes some finnagling, and I apparently had not adequately finnagled. So I was going uphill and knocked my powerballs and two tubes of Shot Bloks onto the road. I thought about just leaving them and trying to survive on the gels and powerbars that would be at all the aid stations (or so I thought), but decided to go back for the food. If nothing else, maybe I saved myself a littering penalty.

I passed Chrissie Wellington, and we'll just leave it at that. There will be no mention of the respective directions in which each of us were traveling.

The best part of the bike was when I went into bike nazi mode. The course was really crowded for most of the ride, which is understandable. Put a couple thousand cyclists onto a single road and they're going to packed together in places. So incidental drafting is bound to happen. I understand that. And it was a windy day. I had moments when I thought, "You know, I could just stay about a bike length behind this guy for a little while, and no one would even notice." I have no problem admitting that there's a little bit of a cheat inside my head, especially when I'm looking at another 5 hour of racing.

But there was one guy who flew by about three inches off another cyclist's wheel, and in an area where the course was not at all crowded. At first I thought he was just waiting for the opportunity to pass the guy in front of him, but it soon became apparent that his intention was nothing other than blatant disregard for the draft zone. The other two or three cyclists on the road near me were grumbling to each other. So what did I do?

I chased the motherfucker down.

I have no idea how much I had to hammer to chase them. It felt effortless, but they had just blown by me, so I must have been going pretty fast. Anyway, I pulled up even with The Cheat, and yelled at him as I went by to "Get out of the draft zone!" and kept pedaling. As they faded away behind me, I started thinking, "Dude, that was really stupid. What if he chases me down now? What if we get into a shouting match or something crazy? What did I just start?" But it was nothing. A few minutes later, the same duo passed me again, this time with The Cheat a less-blatant bike length off the back of his domestique. So maybe I made some difference. At any rate, I felt like a total bad ass for doing it.

Towards the end of the bike, my neck got really stiff. I was expecting that, since it always happens on my long rides. My levator scapulae get so tight from holding my head up in aero position, and it affects my whole demeanor. My legs weren't exactly tired, and my ass wasn't even sore, but my neck and shoulders were killing me. And I was in need of another port-a-john. I was so happy to come to the bike finish and get on my feet again.

T2: 6:09
My slowest transition ever, I think, thanks to waiting in line for a toilet.

Run: 13.1 miles, 2:20:21 (10:43/mile)
This was, strange as it seems, the best part.

I was expecting it to hurt. I was expecting it to feel awful. I was expecting to come to that moment where I wonder why I do these crazy things, and vow never, ever to do another one. But that moment never came. And the running didn't hurt; it felt great!

The first mile ticked by slowly, but I heard my name called left and right. I had no idea there were going to be so many people I knew lining the course! This was a new experience for me, having my name shouted by people who weren't my family, who I didn't even recognize until after the fact. I felt like a super hero.

I was surprised at how quickly the first loop on the run went by, how much I enjoyed it, and how easy it all felt. I was even more surprised when I checked my watch and noticed that I was running sub-10-minute pace. It was the same feeling I had at UCSB, that first time I ran a sub-30-minute 5k. I didn't realize how in shape I was, and how ready I was for this race.

It was at mile 8 that things started to turn. I'd completed the initial out-and-back on the second loop, and was coming to the long, 400-meter downhill portion that took us to the lake front. Where I'd leaned into the downhill and flown before, I restricted my stride and kept my pace and heart rate down. I walked through the whole aid station. I walked the long uphill coming back. My quads were starting to cramp. I was starting to wonder if I needed more electrolytes, more water, more ice.

After the uphill, I knew the end was near. I was coming into the final out-and-back section of the run course, and passed the mile 10 marker. Soon I'd be running past my family's campsite and my most passionate cheering section. I managed to keep shuffling on, but it wasn't exactly pretty. The next 3 miles I only vaguely rememember through a haze of pain and increasing tightness in my quads and right hip flexors. My plan had been to start drinking Coke at about that point, but none of the aid stations had any left. I took sponges and Gatorade and water and forced myself to resume running after each one.

About that time, I started to try every mental tool I've ever used. I tried to get outside of my body. I tried to go deeper inside my body. I tried to focus. I tried to repeat my mantra ("Trust the work"). I sang "Closer to Fine." Nothing was loud enough to block out the pain.

I passed the marker at mile 12 and thought, "Okay! Only 1.1 miles left! I can endure anything for 1.1 miles!" But it was seriously the longest mile I've ever run. I had no idea a mile could drag on like that. I must have been absolutely creeping, by that point. I felt like one of those really, really old guys at marathons. You know the kind I'm talking about. Looks like he couldn't even walk, but he's still running marathons. I ran exactly like that guy.

As I neared the final turn, the live band was playing "Love Shack," then "Hey Mickey." I was in the midst of the throng, again. I came to the junction where you either go right to the finish or left to complete another loop, and I finally got to go right. I was in the blue corridor, 70.3 flags flying to either side of me. There were two other men nearing the finish with me. "Okay," I told them. "Home stretch, now. Time to run pretty! There will be cameras!" I got no response from them, but my own body rewarded me by straightening up, striding out, and forgetting all about any kind of cramping or pain. I blazed across the finish line, exactly the way I'd wanted it to play out.

Total: 70.3 miles, 6:05:32
I am so happy with my debut. I was expecting to finish in around 6:30. But if I would have just put the effort into my transitions that I normally do, I could have gone under six hours. I really could not be happier with my results.

And of course I want to do another one. Coming into this race, I was sure that I would do one half-iron race and go happily back to Olympic and sprint distance, content to have tested myself once and content to return to what I do best. But now (of course) I'm wondering how much faster I could have gone, how much better I could place, if I made a 70.3 race my A race for a season.

One of my favorite parts about this race, though, was the lack of pressure. I think the reason I never really got nervous about the race was that I knew that the pain would be on a different level. Sure, the last 3 miles hurt, but none of the miles before that were particularly hard. It's a completely different kind of suffering from the all-out effort of a sprint. And going into that, I knew that I wasn't going to need to test the limits of how much pain I could take like at the end of a 5k. And even though I did end up feeling like I tested the limits a little bit, it was in a completely different way.

Writing about this event brings such a sense of joy and elation to me, and every time I think about the experience, I grin a little. I did a half Ironman! What can't I do?

Did It.

6:05:32

Not bad for a first try.

Pre-Race: Ironman 70.3 Kansas

Well, Aunt Flow did decide to tag along for my weekend of camping and racing, but I don't mind. As Speedy reminded me, it could be worse. At least my saddle isn't white.

I'm ready to go, and there's nothing left to do now but do it. Thank you all for your comments of encouragement. I'm sure I can do this, but having half a dozen people to tell me, "Yes you can!" sure doesn't hurt. I feel so lucky to be part of a vibrant online community.


I'm hoping to get the little brother updating Facebook and Twitter for me, so you can chart my progress there. Haven't been able to figure out how to track athletes from the Ironman website.


I'll report back on Monday!

The Countdown

T minus 3!

Feeling 100% better. No worries on the hydration/nutrition front, although I have been a little more skittish about eating questionable food (i.e. steamed vegetables that have been in the fridge for a couple weeks and smell a little funny). You know, just in case.

Cranky, though. And inattentive. I would really prefer it if Aunt Flow would wait until after Sunday to visit.

You hear me, Auntie?

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.

The Countdown

T-minus 6 days.

I've been freaked out. I've been worried. I've been stressed. I've been cranky. I've been lazy. I've been exhausted.

I've auditioned mantras. I've rehearsed transitions. I've paid my dues.

I've had stress dreams. I've had sudden bouts of chills. I've had lots and lots of ice cream.

I've trained. I've built. I've tapered.

I am so ready for this.

Runner's High: Knocking it Out

 Today I was thinking about a drive I made a couple years ago.

I was dropping some friends off at Griffith Park for the inaugural running of the Los Angeles Half Marathon. I don't remember why I'd volunteered to wake up before the ass-crack of dawn and drive an extra 20 miles or so on a Sunday; may have been simply because they were teammates.

I do remember waiting for them to get ready. I remember them talking about taking a long-sleeved "throw-away shirt" to keep warm pre-race. I remember them discussing warm-up methods and field size (which was big, for a first-time event--about 10,000 people). I remember conversations about how they thought they would fare in what was essentially, for them, a training run, one for which they'd done no specific training.

I remember being astounded at the fact that they could just knock out a half marathon like it was no big thing, like it was just another training run. I remember thinking it remarkable that a person could have so many race t-shirts that they wouldn't mind throwing one away like it was disposable.

I would never just knock off a half-marathon; I would never sacrifice one of my precious race shirts to the pavement. My race shirts were like medals in themselves; I could wear those around campus, and everyone would know that I am a triathlete. And a half marathon is a long, long race! It takes hard training and planning and (like approaching the Most Holy Place) a good amount of fear and trembling (and maybe bells on your ankles).

But that was three years ago (two-and-a-half?). And now?

Now there's a half marathon/5k next weekend, the weekend before my half-ironman. I haven't done any special training for a half marathon; it would be a last-minute decision; I'm definitely not evidencing any signs of fear and/or trembling. But I'm still entertaining the thought of doing it.

So what? It's only a half marathon. I can just knock it out.

Race Report: Overview of the Omnium

All three of us--Shannon, OK Girl, and myself--at Sunday's criterium.

So I've done a bike race.

I wasn't very good at it. I don't like not being good at things. It tends to inspire me to push myself harder and harder until I become better at them (mediocre, at the very least). That's what I've done with triathlon.

This weekend was definitely a learning experience, in a variety of ways:

• I'm not nearly as strong on the bike as I thought I was. I might be able to hang with some of the faster women in a triathlon, but throw me in with true cyclists, and I'm no match, even in a time trial. And the cycling classes? Um, I don't think they're helping that much.
  
• My training is not conducive to racing like this. I have zero endurance at threshold power, even though I've begun some threshold intervals, those are about holding intensity, not wattage, and it apparently doesn't translate. But that's okay. My main focus, at this point in the season, is being able to go the distance for Lawrence 70.3. And once I'm done with that, I can shift my focus to power and speed, try to hit my peak, and really hammer the shorter races and (we hope) the cyclo-cross races.
• I'm much better at putting three sports together than I am at focusing on one sport exclusively. At least for now.
• I really, really like criterium style racing. That's why I like cyclo-cross; that's why I like the ITU format; and that's why the Oak Park Crit was my favorite part of this weekend. I think that's the format where I'm most likely to excel, as well.

And there are lots of things I'm trying to keep in mind to silence the "You suck!" voices. There were only three women in the field, so there's no telling how I'd stack up against a field of, say, 30. At my second cyclo-cross race, I ended up right in the middle of the pack, and that might be where I would finish in a bigger race (instead of at the very bottom). My training has focused heavily on running this year, and I've seen my biking and swimming improving at a much slower pace than I saw last year. I haven't been training for this, and if I start, I'll probably be better able to hang with the big girls.

A little more about my training: I really felt for the first time how much difference this year has made in terms of preparation. I have always had the top end speed above everything else, even though I couldn't hold it for very long. But this year I haven't worked at all on developing that, and I can really tell. I never thought I would lose that (and I should know better), but it's not currently there. Which isn't to say it's gone forever, of course. But it won't come back until I work on it.

But I did make enough money to cover my entry fees, plus a little bit extra. And I won a little bit of gear from the prime yesterday. Small field=payouts for everyone! Whee!


So lots to work on. I'm hoping that I can do another stage race towards the end of the summer/beginning of the fall so I can see how I stack up against more women and myself.

Race Report: Kechi TT and Oak Park Crit

The time trial did not go off as I expected, certainly not as I wanted. I'm a triathlete. I should own time trials, man. But I did not own this one.

There were two other women in the TT (only one was a repeat from yesterday). I was the first woman to leave, with one a minute back and the other two minutes back.

Long story short, the girl who started a minute back from me caught me and passed me. I caught her and passed her on the next little incline. She passed me back in the flats. It was the weirdest thing; Saturday I couldn't hang with her on the hills, but on Sunday I couldn't keep her reeled in on the flats.

Very disappointing. It completely bummed me out, actually. All the negative self-talk of Saturday came back. I'm not a cyclist. I'm not strong. I don't belong here. I'm no good. I suck.

I went home and ate lunch, then switched out bikes and headed to Riverside for the criterium, which I decided to do after all (since the worst I could get was third place).

Notice that I am nowhere to be found, in this photo.

The crit was a new experience for me, and one I was pretty nervous about. I would describe my handling skills as decent, but I wasn't sure how well I would react to serious, aggressive pack riding.

Turns out I needn't have worried, because there were only three of us (back to the original three from Saturday), and they decided against combing us with the Cat 5 men because someone said she wasn't comfortable with pack riding.

So it's the three of us--me, Shannon (a Specs teammate), and a girl from Oklahoma--on this .8 mile course, 15 laps for the race with two prime laps. Shannon and I warmed up together, talking over tactics. We determined there was no reason we shouldn't take first and second, seeing as how there were two of us and only one of her. So we planned to keep her out in front, let her set the pace and do most of the work. Then we'd jump at the end and try to drop her.

The course wasn't too challenging. All of the turns were nice and wide, and there were no hills (although there were a few slight gradients). However, there was a section that was paved in brick--cobblestones! Two of the corner marshalls suggested that we try to attack there, since most of the other riders seemed not to like it too much.

We rolled up to the line, had roll call (for all three of us), and once again had the unauspicious beginning of rolling off to the casually-spoken word "go." Shannon set off at a brisk pace, I jumped on her wheel, and OK Girl brought up the rear. We spent most of the first two laps drifting back to let OK Girl take the lead, which she eventually did. Around lap 4, Shannon let on that we should do at least some of the work (although I disagree; if she wants to do everything, I'll let her), so I passed OK Girl to take a pull. I finished the lap, then drifted off the side for rest.

Unfortunately, I had chosen to drop off the front at the beginning of the prime lap, and the other two took off like rockets. I wasn't prepared for that; I wasn't expecting that (of course, I'm not sure I could have hung with them even if I knew it was going to happen). I got my ass dropped.

Shannon took the first prime, and I spent the next 4 or so laps trying to catch them again. I hopped back onto the end, with OK Girl in the lead and Shannon sitting on her wheel. I had just enough time to catch my breath by drafting through that lap before the bell rang again for the prime, and we were off again. This time, I managed to stick with Shannon as she pulled ahead. OK Girl caught my wheel, but we were hammering, and at least I wasn't watching them disappear into the distance this time.

About three-quarters of the way through that lap, Shannon got tired and asked me, "You got it?" I shot off past her like a rocket, and that lasted for about 20 seconds before I fell back, exhausted. They both passed me, with Shannon in the lead. But I pulled just long enough for Shannon to rest and outsprint OK Girl for the prime.

After that prime, it only took me about half a lap to catch them up again. And we sat in, letting OK Girl lead. I snuck up to Shannon's side and tried to discreetly discuss strategy. I told her that I probably didn't have much more than 15-20 seconds of power in my legs, so it would be better if we could drop her with one colossal effort, rather than gradually ratcheting up the speed. In retrospect, it actually would have been better if I could have tried to outsprint her, but I might not have won that contest either.

We decided to try to drop her at the beginning of the 14th lap, right at the cobblestones. OK Girl led us over the line, then Shannon and I jumped, accelerated, and tried to outrun her. Sure enough, about 20 seconds later, my legs decided they had had enough. They gave me the finger, locked up (literally, cramped up tight as rocks), and deposited me back on my seat to do my best to hammer down on the pedals and watch OK Girl pass me in pursuit of Shannon.

They gained about half a lap on me through that lap and the next one, but Shannon managed to outsprint her at the end. So at least the team brought home the win. I gave it all I had, and managed to finish only about 5 seconds back from those two.

The result was the same as Saturday, and in this race, OK Girl was still just so much stronger than me. She's like a freakin' ox. Strong as a horse, that one. But I felt much better after the crit than I did after the TT. I'm not sure why. I think I just really like the criterium format. That's probably why I enjoyed cyclo-cross so much, too. And I was happy to get to work with a teammate, and work well together. We could have executed better in terms of strategy, but considering that it was our first time really riding together, I can't imagine it going any more smoothly than it did.

Most importantly, none of my fears about criterium racing came true. I executed every corner without trouble, I bumped wheels (both from the back and from the side) a couple times, and didn't have any problem. I just stayed relaxed and comfortable, like Nicole Freedman taught us, and had no trouble at all.

Of course, the handling isn't enough, and I need to work on my power output, but I'll talk about that more in my next post, when I review the entire Omnium experience.

Pre-Race: Kechi Time Trial and Oak Park Criterium

Tomorrow, I'm doing my first crit.




I hope I don't hurt anyone.

At least the time trial should be good, yeah?

Race Report: Latham Road Race

Well almost none of my fears were realized. I did get dropped, and pretty early, too. But I managed to catch a small group and work my way midway through that before the pack broke up.

There were only two other women racing, so they combined our race with the cat 5 men. That downgraded our distance from 60 miles (2 laps) to 30 (one lap). I wasn't too excited about that, because I needed a long ride for training purposes today, and 60 miles would have been perfect. But as I talked with my teammates, I quickly began to appreciate the fact that my first road race would be considerably shorter than I had earlier planned.

Absolutely no pomp accompanied the start. We scooted up to the line for roll call and sat for a minute. Then one of the officials noticed that the hand cyclists were coming to the finish, and said, "Okay, we're gonna start a little early so we can clear out for the hand bikes. Cyclists read? Go!" And we went. There were a couple dozen of us, mostly cat 5 men, us three women, and one junior male. The start was much more gentle than I expected, given what I've seen of cyclo-cross, where you start with an early sprint for position.

Within the first quarter mile, there's a sharp turn and a steep hill. Then there's another hill, and another, and another . . . the whole course is rolling. Now admittedly, "rolling" in Kansas is sort of a separate thing from "rolling" in, say, a place where there actually hills. But the course was still pretty tough, because the hills just keep coming. There's no recovery on the entire course; the whole thing seems like it's up and down, and the downs are never quite long enough.

Anyway, someone jumped on one of the early hills, and everyone tried to stay with him, which stretched the field out considerably. And I--climber that I am--completely lost the group. Yep. I got dropped in the first five minutes.

There was some really nasty self-talk during that period. "I suck. Why did I even come out here? I'm not a roadie, I'm not a cyclist. I'm a triathlete. Guess teaching cycling classes all the time doesn't help me that much. I might as well just settle in for a $30 training ride and call it a day." This low point was compounded by the fact that the wheel vehicle passed me at about this time, following the rest of the racers. Man that sucked.

But I saw a couple of other riders up ahead, and figured I could work my way back up to them. And one of them happened to be my cross yoda, so that gave me further incentive to catch them. It took several minutes, but I finally hopped onto their (short) paceline and we all worked through, taking our own turns pulling. After another few miles, we caught the other two girls, who were working together (I assume). We picked them up, along with another guy, somewhere along the way (although he dropped off the back pretty quickly). So we had a pack of six, for a while.

And that was nice. I'd pacelined before, but never at this intensity level. I'd never experienced the difference between working so hard for a short time, then sitting in and recovering. No wonder intervals are so important to cycling.

We got within about 7 miles of the finish before I got dropped again. We'd just come down a long hill (very glad we didn't have to go up that one, by the way). I was second in line, and one of the other women was leading. We started up another hill, and she kept gaining on me. The rest of the pack was dropping back, too, and I called out, "Gap!" At that point, though, she was in her own rhythm and climbing on her own. She broke away and we never caught her.

The other woman was right behind me, with the rest of our pack (only two men left, at this point) falling farther and farther behind. I started pursuing Shannon, but she put more and more time into me going up that hill. We crested the hill (my heart was thumping and I could barely turn my legs). I thought that I might be able to catch her on the downhill, but it wasn't long enough. We came quickly to another hill, and she pulled away some more. She was gone, unless there was a long (really long!) flat stretch coming up (there wasn't) and I could keep her within striking distance (I couldn't).

But at this same time, the other chick was right behind me. She'd pass me on the uphills, I'd pass her on the downhills and flats. We finally hit a long downhill with a slight flat stretch immediately following, and I dropped her by about 50 meters. I thought I had her.

Then we hit the inevitable next hill. She blew past me with no apparent effort. Just out for a pleasure cruise. I kept her within striking distance for about the next mile, but there were just too many hills. Towards the end, I could see them cresting the hills ahead, and the chaser was catching the lead woman (I found out later that the lead woman had dropped her chain).

The wheel vehicle passed me again, and I began vascillating between bouts of "You can still catch 'em! C'mon, in the drops, and work this next downhill!" and "Oh God. I suck. I want this to be over." I started looking for landmarks that would tell me the end was near. Finally, we passed Latham cemetary, and I knew we were within a mile of the end. I could still see the other two women, could even see them as they crossed the finish line, but it was definitely too late to catch them. With that knowledge firmly in my mind, I settled into my drops to make sure that I finished as strongly as possible.

I didn't sprint, at the end. I've got a one-hour run scheduled for later today and a 2800 m swim tomorrow--not to mention the time trial and crit, the other two elements of the Wichita Stage Race. Considering that my position (3rd place AND last place; woohoo!) was set, it seemed unnecessary for me to kick it to the end with tomorrow's races looming on the horizon. Better to save some juice for a finish at the TT than blow it on looking good at the finish line today.

So that was my first foray into road racing. I hope it won't be the last, but it probably won't be a regular thing. I'm just not strong enough. If I concentrated on building some biking power, I might be able to hang a little better. But I'm a triathlete, still, and I like the challenge of putting all three sports together. Maybe as I improve as a triathlete, I'll improve as a cyclist, too; in fact, I know I will. It's only a matter of time.

Final:
30 miles
1:33:14
19.4 MPH

Pre-Race: Atlanta/Latham Road Race

 Ruh-roh. They look pretty tough, don't they?

Pic courtesy of Lanterne Rouge.

Tomorrow I'm doing my first-ever cycling road race.

Remember the first time I did a cyclo-cross race and totally had my ass handed me?

Yeah.

I'm nervous about this one. I've never raced like this. I have minimal experience with pack riding. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up. I'm not hip on the etiquette and afraid I might embarass my team (oh, and myself, too). I'm afraid I might crash and there goes my half Ironman. I'm afraid I might do something dumb and make a whole bunch of other people crash. I'm afraid everyone will be snooty and/or bitchy.



I'm just generally kind of freaked out.


But whatever. The worst that can happen is that I finish dead last and everyone is already gone by the time I get back.


And that's already happened once before.

Race Report: International Boathouse Triathlon

 See that? That's my baby. That's what I have instead of a girlfriend.

This race was awesome.

It was way smaller than I expected. It was way better organized than I expected. And it was way easier than I expected. Here we go . . .

Pre-race
My parents came along with me on this one. At the last triathlons races we attended as a family, we were late. Really late. No-chance-to-warm-up kind of late. So I insisted that we leave no later than 5:30 for a race that started at 7:30. Woke up at 5, and we were out the door by 5:30. Awesome.

Pre-race activities included picking up timing chip and swim cap, along with body marking. Transition area was tiny--there were only about 225 athletes racing the age group race. Pre-race rituals progressed as they should, except for a few little hang-ups. I had a great run warm-up, but when I tried to go out for a bike warm-up, the Gatekeeper stopped me at the bike in/out timing mats and asked if I had already racked my bike. "Um, yeah . . ." Apparently, once you racked your bike it had to stay racked. I've never encountered that rule before. Anyone have any idea as to what the point is?

Also, ran out of time for a swim warm-up, because there was a mandatory (pointless) pre-race meeting. Interesting tidbit, though--there were somewhere in the range of 30 USAT officials at this race, I assume because of the elite and junior elite races the day before. This is the first race where I've actually seen penalties in the results, I think.

The swim took us under a bridge AND a railroad trestle!

Swim: 1500 m, 33:14 (32:18 unofficial, 2:01/100 yd)
Oh man that river was dirty. Not as dirty as Lake Afton (of the infamous Mudwater!), but pretty damn close. It was dirty enough that I'd watched the pros come out of the water the day before with what looked like a reddish-brown 5 o'clock shadow. Apparently, the North Canadian River contains a good amount of silt in the Oklahoma City area. Interesting.

Actually, even with the mud, the swim wasn't at all bad. The water didn't have that muddy smell/taste that truly dirty lakes have, and didn't taste bad when I inevitably swallowed some of it. And I still haven't gotten sick, so woohoo!

The swim felt almost effortless. I'd been a little worried about it, since last Monday was my first open water swim after a long winter off and it hadn't gone very well. Actually, I was an absolute mess. But Saturday, everything seemed to come right back to me. I didn't push myself overly hard, and I lost sight of the lead pack pretty early on. But the wave behind me didn't catch up to me, for the most part, and I did manage to catch a few of the men from the wave immediately before us. I remember while swimming thinking about how confident I was, how smooth and capable I felt, and how I needed to include that in my race report.

But now that I've seen the results--seen that my swim ranked 25 out of 42--I'm a little disappointed. I feel like I should be swimming better than this; I should be able to go around 28 minutes for a 1500 at this point, and should certainly rank in the better half of the pack for the swim. Honestly, I feel like I'm moving backwards with my swim. But that's a topic for another post. I'll just say that I was happy and feeling good, coming out of the water.

Oh! And there were wetsuit strippers! I have never been at a race that's had wetsuit strippers before! They were literally right at the swim exit, which didn't give me time to unzip my wetsuit and wriggle my arms free, so it was unnecessarily time-consuming; I could have done it faster myself in transition. I think that's what added the extra minute to my official swim time.

Way to get the most flattering shot of me, Dad.

T1: 48 seconds
Fourth best in the field. Only three women faster than me through T1, and one of them is an elite.

"Grr! Get that turn!"

Bike: 40 km, 1:17:59 (19.1 MPH)
The hardest part of this section (besides the shitty pavement) was keeping my effort level in check. It was a four-lap out-and-back course. I went out hard on the first lap, just to get things going, then sent my heart rate into the red zone on the second lap trying to pass someone on an uphill. Got past her, got up the hill, and had no zoom. I was going 15 MPH in the flats. At that point, I realized that I really needed to back off for the next two laps. Lap four, maybe I could drop the hammer (but just a little hammer).

The course was scenic, but not a ton of fun. The road was poor--the first portion coming away from transition was under construction. I wrote a review of the course, so if you want to hear all about it, you can go to Racevine.com and read all about it.

I worked hard on the bike, and felt I put forth a good effort. I worked hard, but kept my heart rate and breathing under control. I did well with handling, executing the corners at either end of the course well at a decent speed. But again, looking at the results, I feel like I should be doing better; I should be around 21 MPH, at this point, not 19.

"Ooh look! A quarter!"

T2: 53 seconds
I forgot all about taking my feet out of my shoes at the end of the bike course, so this was a little slow. Also, trying to jog in road shoes really sucks ass.

That is not a tan; that is mud.

Run: 10 km, 57:38 (9:16/mile)
This was really the proudest part of my day. I nailed this run like I've never nailed an Olympic-distance run before. Although I suppose that's not a huge deal, considering this is only my third race at the distance.

Once again, the course consisted of four out-and-back loops, which made it unbelievably easy. On the first loop, I could think already about how nice it would feel to be on that next loop, and before I knew it, I was on the second loop! And 2.5 km is not very far to run--that's like a mile and a half! So the out-and-back went really quickly.

It was interesting to see all the different people on the run. Pretty much everyone was on the run course at the same time. I passed the fastest racer, and I passed the slowest racer--you saw everyone, at some point. And it was pretty cool to run past the spectators and have them cheering at so many points on the course. Really, the feel of the ITU style course was just so different!

The support was unbeatable--two aid stations on each loop, for a total of eight aid stations total. The volunteers were great, very helpful and encouraging. And there were USAT officials positioned at crucial points on the course to make certain you didn't run the wrong way.

I had enough left for an awesome kick at the end, had my name announced, had people yelling and screaming for me, and I saw my name on the Jumbotron after I crossed the line. It was pretty cool. And the post-race food was the best I've ever seen!

Silt + Powerade + 3 hours of racing = instant beard! Don't worry; I've shaved since this was taken.

Total: 2:50:30
This is a 25-minute PR for me, and I met my big goal of breaking three hours. I am completely happy with my performance. I know I pushed it, I know I gave all I had on the day, and I can see how drastically I've improved (also, I didn't repeat the fueling mistakes of Wildflower).

At the same time, I know I can do better. I placed 23 out of 42--just outside of the top 50%. I can do better than that. I can swim a 28-minute 1500 m. I can bike 21+ MPH. And I can run 8:30 miles on a 10k. So while I've allowed myself time to enjoy my success, congratulate myself on a PR, and eat junk food (okay, just on Monday), I know that with hard work and the proper training, I'm going to be doing better by next year. Hell--I'm going to be doing better by the end of the season!

So hurray for me! And on to the next thing.

Vacation!

I know! It's been like two weeks with nary a word from me (unless you happen to follow me on Twitter).

I spent all of last week in Ohio, relaxing with my very laid-back aunt and uncle and training in the hills of Amish Country (not kidding; actually biked passed several horse-drawn buggies).

Did you realize that Ohio has hills? Lots and lots of them. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew this. I knew when I asked my aunt and uncle if I could chill at their place for a week that I would be encountering a few rollers in my training. I've driven those hills; I've gotten carsick on those hills. But until you get out and bike and run on 'em, you don't really know what you're up against.

But I am absolutely positively not complaining. The course of Ironman 70.3 Lawrence has changed since last year, but I'm sure it's still a beast. Lawrence has some pretty rolling terrain, and I am decidedly unprepared to encounter it. Or was unprepared, although after this week's long ride, I feel like I can probably take it on.


This week was not by any means strictly training, however; it wasn't really a training camp. Yeah, I brought my bikes (both) and my running shoes (3 different pairs) and my wetsuit (which I never got around to using), but my plan of attack was simply to relax, and I can confidently say that I accomplished my mission. I slept a good 9-10 hours every night, with a few naps thrown in for good measure. I ate wonderfully (thanks to my generous relations). And I got to meet up with some family (including my cousin's newborn baby).

I didn't feel as refreshed as I would have liked, coming back. In fact, this week has sucked ass. But at least now it's almost over. And this weekend, I'm going to Oklahoma City to race the International Boathouse Triathlon, so look for the pre-race report tomorrow!


Thank you guys for hanging with me.

As it Stands

We've come to that special time of year when I sacrifice writing about my favorite hobby to get out and actually do my favorite hobby. The weather's starting to clear up in Kansas (not counting the week of thunderstorms and rain we've had), and I've been out enjoying it!

Thanks to everyone who commented on my race report; I love the sense of community we're all able to enjoy online. I would never have the chance to meet such a diverse and interesting group of people if it weren't for the whole blogging scene, and for that I'm grateful.

That said, I've been doing an absolutely attrocious job at keeping up with it. Haven't read blogs, haven't commented. It's not that I've been busy, exactly; it's just that there are always about 20 other things to do. And in the battle between blogging and yoga, yoga has been winning out.

Speaking of, I feel like I'm falling apart at the seams. Seriously. My hip hurts. My hamstrings hurt. My shoulders are sore. I was afraid I had a hernia on Monday (I don't). I bruised the toe mound of my right foot swimming on Wednesday (and who the hell hurts their foot while swimming?). I've really ramped up my yoga, taking more challenging and longer classes, and I don't think it's doing for me what I need it to be doing. I need yoga for restoration and range of motion and relaxation, but my yoga time has become just another kind of strength workout! I may have to back off my yoga practice, taking easier classes, fewer classes, and incorporating more joint opening into my home practice.

The real news, though, is that I'm leaving for vacation on Sunday! I'm heading up to Ohio to visit my aunt and uncle. They live near Mansfield, and I'll be taking advantage of their hospitality to run my own private training camp. Planning to bike and run in the backwoods of Ohio, swim in Charles Mill Lake and at Ashland University's rec center, practice yoga everyday, and generally relax. I don't know if I'll have internet access, but if I do you can expect a few posts from me, as well.

Thanks for staying with me, friends. Happy training!

Race Report: Emporia Spring Migration '09

Pre-race

I drove up to Emporia alone, this time. It's never as much fun to be heading to a race alone. But it did give me time to be with my thoughts, which is always valuable for me. The day was cloudy, cold, and windy, which I had expected. If anything, it wasn't as windy as had been forecast--or, I should say, it wasn't as windy as I had anticipated from the level of anxiety I'd witnessed at the KSRVTC meeting the day before. Still, it was not ideal weather for a race, and I spent most of my drive north hoping that the conditions in Emporia weren't as bad as they were in Wichita.

Emporia is about an hour and a half from Clearwater, so I left around 6:30. Arrived just after 8, and was a little frazzled. Would one hour be enough time to get registered, bodymarked, set up transition, and warm up?

Turned out it was plenty of time. Registration was a breeze, there was no line at bodymarking, and transition was simple: one pair of shoes, one hat, bike, helmet, and some nutrition. Shoes and water were already on the bike. I decided against arm warmers, leg warmers, skull cap, and jacket; I didn't want to waste the time in transition.

Transition area at this race is on ESU's track, so I warmed up with 4 laps on the rubber. This was my first race in my new Zoots (did I mention that I got a pair of those Zoot flats?) sans socks, so I was concerned about blisters, but they felt fine in the warm-up. I took my bike out on the road just long enough to get my shoes on my pedals. Then I headed into the pool to warm up there. Oh, and I should mention that I was really concerned about hydration, so I made several pee stops during this time, as well (because that's obviously such a vital part of this race report).

I did a few laps to warm up, trying to practice my flip turns at both ends of the pool, including the turn under the lane line. I flubbed every single one of them. And I should have been smart enough at that point to know not to try the flip turns. The issue was that Emporia's pool is stainless steel and my feet kept slipping on my flip. Also, Emporia has a deep end, which threw me off; I couldn't tell how close to the wall I was, because the T at the bottom of the pool was so far away. So two issues that should have convinced me during the warm up to just cave and use the open turns.

Swim: 400 m, 7:35, 1:53/100 m ('08 was 7:50)
This swim starts like a time trial, with a racer leaving every 20 seconds. Which isn't so bad if you're number 52 (which I was), but is probably kind of a bummer if you're number 208. If you're number 208, the fastest racers are finishing up by the time you're starting. That's gotta be kind of depressing.

My swim went pretty smoothly, except for the fact that I could not get my flip turns going. I think I could have swam a couple seconds faster if I had just nixed the flip turns at the beginning. Because I messed up every single one that I tried, and the ones where I tried to flip turn under the lane rope were even worse. After the third 50, I just gave up on it and switched to open turns. And I was swimming way off pace, at that point. I think it was during the fifth 50 that the guy right behind me passed me. And I couldn't have asked for anything better than that, because I got to draft off of him for the rest of the swim. Really, that couldn't have been any better if I'd planned it (which I didn't).

T1: 52 seconds

I got out of the water right behind number 53, passed him on the way out of the pool, and managed to get out of transition before him. This transition seemed to take forever, but I guess it wasn't that long. I'd rather see it at 35 seconds, but I'll take it under one minute.


Bike: 20 km, 40:30, 18.41 MPH ('08 was 17.95 MPH)
So I said it was windy, but I didn't tell you how windy. According to the Weather Underground, the wind speed was around 22 MPH from the north at around 10:00 a.m., but with gusts up to 30 MPH. That's frickin' windy. The Emporia course is set up as an out-and-back with the first half due north and the second half due south.

The first half, to say the least, was unpleasant, but not unbearable. Unbearable is when you could swear that the wind is out to get you. Unbearable is when the weather becomes personal, when you're convinced that Kansas has a vendetta and you are its chosen target. This wasn't on that level. There were several points on the north-bound course that were sheltered by trees or hills, and so the wind was tough, but not vicious. The last mile and a half before the turn around was completely unprotected, though, and that's where I saw my speed drop steadily, finally bottoming out at 10.9 MPH on an uphill combined with a fierce gust. It was shortly after that, however, that we turned south.


And then I flew.


If you've never had the benefit of a 25 MPH tailwind, let me tell you: there's nothing like it. I found my biggest gear and was spinning at exactly a comfortable pace. I watched my speed climb from 27 to 28 to 30 to 33 MPH. It was amazing. I had saved myself through the whole first half of the bike portion, bowing to the wind and watching my speed slide south, saving myself for the big ring and the tailwind. And it totally paid off. I caught number 53, who had passed me shortly after we got onto the main road. I passed a few of my fellow female competitors. Most importantly, with about 2 miles to go, I passed Emily McVay. Emily McVay works at the Derby Rec Center; she's in charge of the annual Derby Rec Center Tri. And she's enough faster than me that one of my goals on the day was to beat her. And I passed her with just over a mile to go! I was ecstatic.


T2: 57 seconds
Again, longer than it probably should take me to get through transition. I managed my flying dismount without a hitch (no scrapes or bruises to add to my growing collection) and did everything I needed to do quickly and efficiently. I honestly don't know what took me so long. Maybe the time is off a little bit; maybe a few of those seconds belong on the run time (although I'm perfectly happy to leave them classified under T2).


Run: 5 km, 25:48, 8:17/mile ('08 was 9:07/mile)
I swear that I remember every single foot of this run course. It's nothing compared to Wildflower, or any other race in a place that has real hills. But for a Wichitan, this course is nothing short of brutal. The run course begins with a long, leisurely climb out of campus. It climbs steadily, then tops out as soon as you get off campus. You cross over into residential Emporia, and quickly face another hill. Downhill for a brief respite (although it's not really a break, you know, because the downhill takes it out of your legs in a whole different way), then back uphill again.

It was right about this point that Emily McVay passed me, and flew away from me. She ran away at a pace I could not possibly hope to maintain, and I let her go. While struggling up the next hill, another woman passed me, along with a few men. But this race is interesting in that you have no idea where people are going to place, because everyone starts at different times. For example, I started my race 17:20 after number 1. I could finish the race 17 minutes after number 1, and still have beaten him or her by 20 seconds, even though I never saw or passed him or her on the course. So it's easy not to get too caught up in passing or being passed (except as a mental exercise to make you run faster) and just run your own race. Which is what I did.


The whole course is rolling, but I kept plodding along. I tried this new (to me) trick where I picked a point up ahead and counted the number of footfalls it took to get to that point. It really makes the time and distance pass, although I found it sort of monotonous. Most significantly, at one point sometime after mile 2, I found myself thinking, "I am not at my peak fitness." I had never felt that so distinctly, before. I knew that I could go faster, could do better, but I just couldn't do it yet. So that's exciting to think about what I might be doing later in the summer.


I didn't have much left for a final kick; I felt like I paced myself really well, and didn't have a lot left in the tank for one more push to the finish. But I still managed to pick up the speed, a little bit; I may have been like a really small plane coming in for a landing.


Final: 1:15:42; 1st F 20-24; 6th F overall ('08 was 1:17:36, 7th F overall)

Emily McVay was 5th, but only by 50 seconds.


I was pretty happy with this race. It's the first time I've had a tune-up race that actually felt like a tune-up race (I guess my training program must actually be doing what it's supposed to do, this year). I raced with new running shoes, new biking shoes, and a new bike, and all the equipment worked out fine. I nailed my nutrition. I did well with my pacing. I had one of my best run splits ever. I didn't quite beat Emily McVay, but I'll get her next year.


In short, I'm confident about the rest of my season. I feel strong and capable, and I'm learning all the things I need to do (i.e. don't work so hard this year that I burn out, do drink water and eat, don't treat a B priority race like an A priority race). My one concern is that I don't really want Lawrence 70.3 to be my A race, but that's where my training program is supposed to peak. I was thinking about this on the ride back home (and talking about it with a teammate), and I've decided that I want to try to peak about two weeks after Lawrence, and try to carry the peak for a full month. That month will encompass Shawnee Mission and Mudwater, and after Mudwater I think I'll take some time off before trying to finish the season in September. That way I'll be peaking for the small, short races--the ones I have a better chance of winning--and I'll still be getting my first 70.3 under my belt. Now I just need to do some reading and some research to figure out how to do that . . .

Pre-Race: Emporia Spring Migration '09

I'm sitting here nursing a few injuries . . .

 

  

  

The first two are from a little wipe out I had this morning while doing a cornering drill at a cycling clinic. We were using water bottles for cones, and I cut it a little too close. Hit the water bottle dead on and completely slid out. So I got a little road rash on my hip and elbow. The third picture is from last week's transition clinic. I was practicing a flying mount (with all of my athletes watching, of course). Missed the seat and landed on the back wheel. Ugly, ugly bruise on my inner thigh, wrapping all the way around the back of my leg. You should see it in person; it's epic.

Anyway, I'm nursing my injuries, packing my bags, and preparing for the first real race of the season: Emporia Spring Migration. 400 m swim, 20 km bike, 5 km run. The swim is in a pool. The bike is flat and fast. The run is ridiculously hilly (um, for Kansas). Last year, I did 1:17:36, 1st F 20-24, 7th F overall. I really want to do better this year, and I think I can. Maybe knock 30 seconds off the swim, a couple minutes off the bike, a couple minutes off the run. I think I can come in under 1:15, if I have a good race.

Forecast is for 52°, possibility of light rain, and winds from the northwest at 13 MPH. So it's probably going to be chilly. That's my main concern. Warm clothing takes time, and I don't particularly want to spend that time in transition. I'm hoping that adrenaline and exertion will keep my body temperature high enough that I won't need arm warmers, leg warmers, or a jacket.

For the rest, I'm just going to go out tomorrow and do my best. First race of the season. We'll see how it goes.

Edited to say:

You know what I'm really wondering? I wonder if I have what it takes to race tomorrow. I've been getting faster and faster in all 3 sports. I did a 1650 yd time trial in 29:31 on Monday; that's 1:47/100. I've been biking at 20 MPH. I ran last weekend at an 8:40/mile pace for a full 10k. But what if I get into the pool tomorrow and just don't have the get up and go? What if I fail to access that very special intensity? What if I can't get in the zone? What if I find myself unable to do much more than coast through? And what if I end up unable to match last year's performance?

The questions don't matter; the result is the same. I rest well tonight, prepare myself as best I can tomorrow, then get out on the course and do what I can do. My preparation has been in line; now I just need to withdraw on the deposits I've made up to this point.

Eight Great Alternatives to Plank

Don't get me wrong, here--there's nothing wrong with plank. It's a great abdominal/core exercise (even though it's somewhat misunderstood). But if you're tired of spending long minutes on your elbows and toes, here are some alternatives. I've ordered them from easiest (i.e. use them to work your way up to plank) to most difficult. I've also tried to include exercises that are especially applicable to triathletes. So without further ado . . .

Quadrupedal iso abs
Begin on all fours. Make sure your knees are directly under your hips, hands directly under your shoulders. Make sure that your back is in a neutral curve (not extended or arched). In one movement, tighten all the muscles of your abdominals and back without allowing your position to change (i.e. maintain neutral alignment of the spine). Hold for 10-20 seconds, relax the muscles (again, without changing the shape of the spine). Repeat 3-6 times.

Bird dog
Begin on all fours. Make sure your knees are directly under your hips, hands directly under your shoulders. Make sure that your back is in a neutral curve (not extended or arched). Maintaining the neutral position of your spine and pelvis, extend one arm in front of you and the opposite leg behind you. Hold for just a second, return to the starting position, and switch sides. Repeat 8-15 times.

Plank + Dolphin
First, go here and here and read all about how to do Plank and Dolphin properly; a full explanation of those poses will take more time than I want to devote to just one exercise. Focus on keeping the serratus anterior (muscles just below your armpits on your sides) engaged by thinking of wrapping your shoulder blades around your rib cage. This exercise is equally useful for increasing shoulder stability and flexibility (helpful for swimming), which is why I include it. Hold each position (Plank and Dolphin) for 10 seconds each. Switch back and forth 3-4 times.

Side plank
As you can see in the video, there are several variations of side plank. The easiest is to balance on the knees and elbows; the most difficult is to balance on one arm and one leg. Whichever position you choose, make sure your arm is directly under your shoulder, because stacking your shoulder over your arm/elbow will encourage you to use the strength of your core rather than your arms or shoulders. Also be sure that your hips are perpendicular to the floor and that your body makes a straight line from your head to your feet/knees.

Plank w/ one arm/leg variations
This one can be performed either from the elbows and feet or from the hands and feet. Begin by making sure you can hold a standard plank position with the spine and hips in neutral extension; if your back sags or arches when you try this one, you need more work in plank first. From the plank position you can raise one arm, one leg, or the arm and the opposite leg. The key is to prevent your back from changing shape and your hips from rotating--that's where you really get good work for core stability.

Twisting plank
This is a variation of side plank, which means that you need to be able to hold sideplank from the hand and the side of your foot properly. Begin on hands and toes, as if you are about to do a push up. Rotate the whole body to one side so that your torso is perpendicular to the ground and your arm is reaching up towards the sky. Rotate back to the starting position and without setting your arm down, reach your hand under and across. Repeat 8-10 times on each side. Note that the hand does not touch the ground until the set is over.

Downward Facing Dog + plank series
Begin in Downward Facing Dog (that means you need to know/learn how to do it), and walk your hands back until your heels are flat on the floor. Raise one leg straight up behind you, forming a straight line from your hands (on the floor) to your heel (in the air). As you exhale, bring your leg forward, aiming the knee towards the elbow. Return to the one-legged dog position on the inhale. On the next exhale, bring the knee towards the opposite elbow, then return on the inhale. Finally, bring the knee forward towards your shoulder on the exhale, and back on the inhale. Repeat 3-4 times, then switch sides. Note that your body should move forward over your hands as you exhale; this brings you from Downward Facing Dog into more of a Plank position.

Bakasana (Crow/Crane) into Plank
Again, this assumes that you know how to do Bakasana. If you can't do that pose, then this exercise is out for you. From Bakasana, pull your pelvic floor powerfully up into your body and float your legs back to land in Plank. That's really the best explanation I can give; this one you've just got to try! Do this one 3-6 times, then rest and stretch your wrists by slowly moving your hands in a circular pattern.

Each of these sets can be done 2-4 times, depending on how much time and energy you have. Obviously, these exercises won't translate directly to your standard "Knee-up crunches, 3 x 20" ab routine, but you should be able to insert them in your training plan where you would normally do core work, and particularly where you might do Plank.

In addition to preventing boredom in your ab routines, these poses will (I hope) give your abs a kick in the butt. Your muscles get used to routine exercises, so if you throw in something unusual, you'll get a better training response as your muscles try to adapt to the physical stress of an unfamiliar exercise.

Also note that there are variations in how you can do plank--with arms straight, from the elbows, with arms bent (as in Chaturanga Dandasana). Some of these alternatives and variations require a particular beginning position (for example, Dolphin), but you can also experiment with different arm positions to add even more options to your abdominal routine (for example, you could try side plank or twisting plank from your elbows).

Do you have any further ideas of plank alternatives? Please share in the comments!

Race Report: Easter Sun Run 10k

Do you realize I've never done a 10k before? I mean, I've run a 10k at the end of an Olympic distance race. And I've run 10k in training. And I've run way farther than 10k. But this race was my first-ever 10k race.

Consequently, I was a little bit nervous. I've been hammering the run this year, working hard to increase my speed all winter long. I'm definitely faster than I was a year ago, or even three months ago. I'm improving all the time. But I had no idea about how to pace myself for a 10k, and I had nothing against which to compare it. So I wasn't sure what to expect.

The Easter Sun Run is the first big road race of the season for Wichita runners, and there are lots and lots of people from the community, as well. So the starting line was jam-packed. I seeded myself about halfway back. The first minor annoyance was two very tall guys who came and stood right in front of me. It was like a large, red and yellow wall decided to move directly in front of me and stop. Frickin' tall people.

Anyway, the race was pretty uneventful, and I don't have much to report. I held way back for the first 5k, watching people pass me and thinking for sure that I could keep up with them, but not wanting to blow up later in the race. There were a couple times when I drafted off of faster runners, then reminded myself that I wouldn't be able to hold their pace for another 7k.

At the halfway mark, I started negative splitting my kilometer times, getting progressively faster. And it felt great! In retrospect, I'm sure it hurt, but not too bad. I was pushing it, but not to the point of wanting to throw up or pass out or anything.

Around the 7k mark, I passed this skinny little high school boy, all arms and legs, huffing and puffing up a hill (by which I mean a bridge that we had to run up for a few yards). Dropped him and thought nothing of it. Just a little after the 9k mark, I see him again. He sounds like he's still hurting, but he's definitely outpacing me. I go with him. Skinny little bastard's not gonna pass me in the final kilometer! We were probably at least 400m from the finish, still; maybe 600m. But I cranked it up anyway, dropped his skinny ass, and ran for home. By the end, I was absolutely yelling with the effort, and it felt incredible. I don't know how much time I put on him, but I didn't see him at the finish line. I'm going to assume that I ran so fast that he disappeared in a big, blue cloud of my awesome.

Final time was 54:07, according to the official results; 54:03, according to the pace clock at the finish line; and 53:55, according to my heart rate monitor, which takes into account the time it took me to get to the starting line after the air horn sounded. So we're going to go with 53:55 and say that I ran my first 10k in under 54 minutes.

You wanna talk about strange, though? I finished 301 out of 602, at the very, very bottom of the top half. Weird. And the other strange thing (to me) is that my age group isn't that fast. Top F 19-22 time was 47:05. That's not that fast; I think I could run that, eventually.

But by far the best part of this race is that my family was there. My dad (who is kind of a runner) came out for the 10k (which he finished in 1:10:20, but he could have done way faster if he hadn't been keeping another runner company). My mom did the 2-mile walk, which is a big deal because she's significantly less active than my dad and me. My brother had band practice all morning (he played the bass for Easter service at their church). And equally significant was that my client, Kim, did her first ever 10k! She said she ran kilometer 8 for me, and every time she wanted to stop and walk she told herself, "No! I'm not gonna quit on Jamie!" The cool part is that I got to see her and cheer her on near the beginning of that kilometer.

So all in all, a great race. I'm happy with my performance (8:40/mile! Hell yes!), but I still think I can do better. I'm proud of my family, and of my clients, who did a great job. It was a great race and a (surprisingly) beautiful day.

Note: My mom is the one in the picture by herself; Kim is in the picture with my dad and me. I know; it's weird. But look at the facial features! It should be clear which two out of those three people are my parents.

As It Stands

So . . . training is not going well. I mean, it's not going poorly. But it's certainly not going well.

All last week, I felt like I was right on the edge of overtraining. I don't know if I tipped over the precipice; I've just been trying to take it easy. I'm wondering if the 5 hours of indoor riding on my new, shiny bicycle last weekend was simply too much.

The weather has also been famously uncooperative. After last weekend's blizzard (no, really. blizzard), I was hoping that winter had had its final roar and would shuffle meekly out the door. But no. Oh no. Snow on Sunday, as well.

What's even worse, though, is that we have all the negative aspects of spring and none of the positives. Crazy winds? Check. Wind speed on Friday was a constant 25-30 MPH. Saturday was even more epic, with wind speeds holding steady in the 30s and gusts as high as 50 MPH. Allergies? Check. I can still smell without too much trouble, but I can't seem to drink enough water to keep my throat moist. But we haven't yet encountered the slow, soaking rains, the epic thunderstorms (not great for training, but very majestic), not to mention the warm temperatures that April should bring. So thanks a lot, Kansas.

Really, though, the issue is that I'm doing too much without affording my body the proper time for rest and recovery (not to mention a frickin' social life). And stress is stress, whether it comes from training, lack of sleep, or demanding/unreliable/obnoxious client relations.

So I'm stressed, guys. And it's messing up my training!