In other news . . .

Quick break from cycling to tell you what's up in the rest of my life:

After working on health-related pre-requisites since 2009, I have been accepted to a doctoral physical therapy program for fall of 2018. I'm going to be a doctor!

If I can get through the next 4 years, that is . . .

Finally got my Ironman tattoo!

This past Sunday was the fourth edition of Ironman Mallorca, which makes it a full year since I did an Ironman. I always said that I would get a tattoo after doing an Ironman; it's the only thing I can think of that I would want on my body for the rest of my life. After hemming and hawing for a full year, I finally got some ink. Observe:

It hurt. Way more than I'd expected or planned. I shouldn't be surprised, considering a tattoo involves getting stabbed over and over again in the same basic area. But it was definitely more painful than doing an Ironman.

And the finished product:

What do you think? Am I badass, now?

Finding my strengths

My quads look exactly like this.

I had three main goals for training this year: find a team, get back into racing, and figure out my strengths and weaknesses. I've achieved the first two, but the third has evaded me. I still don't feel like I have a good handle on what I'm good at in cycling.

In triathlon, I always told people that I was best at transitions, because I didn't think that I was very good at any of the three sports. Of the three, cycling was my strongest and the one that I enjoyed the most.

Because of my background with triathlon, I'm pretty good at time trials. But that time trial skill doesn't carry over into races; I can't hold high power for long duration in races, like in a breakaway. Or the power that I can sustain isn't high enough to keep me away from a pursuing group, anyway. So I'm decent at time trialing, but it doesn't carry over to actual races.

I've considered that I might be a good sprinter, because I'm kind of built like a sprinter--small frontal profile with massive thighs. I've also assumed that I'm not a very good climber, because I'm so heavy relative to my size. But when I think back to this season, I've done well in hilly races. I think I might be a good climber. Sprint-wise, I have an okay kick, but I'm never positioned well enough for it to really matter. So I'm good at climbing, but I lack the right build to be excellent at it; and I'm good at sprinting, but only during workouts (I haven't won any races out of sprints . . . or at all).

Then the other day I did a TrainerRoad workout that got me thinking. It was intervals of 30 seconds overgeared (slow and heavy) followed by a ramp from just below threshold power to just above. And I was really good at them. I could lay down 500+ watts for 30 seconds. In my highest gear and with the resistance cranked on my trainer, I couldn't slow my legs down below 80 RPM. I don't suppose it should be very surprising, considering the size of my quads, but I'm really strong. I think that's my strength, cycling-wise. Strength. I'm strong at . . . being strong. Yay!

Now if I can just figure out how to use that in racing . . .

Ooh, Shiny!

Look what I got!

Technically, this is a reward for finishing my marathon, which I haven't finished yet.

So hopefully I don't totally poop out on Sunday, because I'm pretty sure that Tri360 won't take it back!

Ironman Mallorca

It's official! I am going to Mallorca for the 2nd iteration of the Thomas Cook Ironman!

Update on Training

This past year's training bordered on disastrous. I lost three months of prime base building time to sickness and injury. I just barely managed to get in enough training to complete a half iron distance race in September. And that was a bit of a stretch. The last 5 miles of my half marathon were sheer torture, and I questioned whether it might be better to sit down and wait for an ambulance to pick me up.

Still, I got through it, and my training has taken a turn for the better.

I did finish the triathlon season with two or three months of consistent, disciplined training. I've been able to maintain consistent running and cross training since my triathlon season ended at the beginning of September. I'm confident in my ability to prepare my body and mind for an Ironman in 2015.

After Rev3 Cedar Point on September 8, I gave myself two full weeks off. The only exercise I did was teaching cycling, yoga, and water aerobics classes. After those two weeks, I started easing back in to running, with a goal of averaging 15 miles per week for the next month. I planned to do a 5k in October, a 10k in November, and a full marathon (my first!) in March. My plan was to see if I could still run (relatively) fast, gradually build a run base again, and start marathon training at the end of November.

I did a 5k a couple of weekends ago, and surprised myself with my time (27:57, after "running" a 3-hour-plus half marathon at the end of my 70.3). It hurt, in the way that races do, but it's such a short-term pain; 5 minutes after crossing the line feeling like death, I was ready to run another one.

I plan to do a 10k the weekend before Veteran's Day, if I can find one nearby. And I'm signed up for the Shamrock Sports Weekend in Virginia Beach on March 20. I'm excited that the sponsor for the race is Yuengling. I love Yuengling lager. It's like PBR, but from Pennsylvania instead of Wisconsin (PBR is from Wisconsin, right?). That will be my first full marathon. I'm using a basic plan adapted from Run Less, Run Faster, plus a four-week build-up from my current 15 miles per week to 25 miles per week. I'm teaching two cycling classes a week and taking one water aerobics class (with a client) for cross-training. That means I'm basically getting paid to train; I'm practically a professional athlete, here.

I've noticed a lot more soreness and cramping, so I'm also trying to incorporate more weight-lifting, corrective exercise, yoga, and self-myofascial-release. You would think that it wouldn't be so difficult to make myself do these things, considering that I am a personal trainer by trade and spend a good amount of my time at a gym. Alas, it's just as difficult for me to make myself get on a foam roller or a weight bench as it is to get my clients to do it.

So that's what I'll be doing for the next six months. I'm eyeing Ironman Barcelona for 2015. I'll let you know when I pull the trigger and plunk down my 650 Euros!

New Year, New Dreams

I've fought through a tough year.

My Jamesport farming internship ended badly, not at all like I'd hoped and expected. I found myself abruptly unemployed, without a location to meet with my personal training clients, with no source of income on the horizon. Moving back in with my parents in Wichita became a real possibility.

Things are getting better. I've found an apartment in Jamesport, and the landlord lets me pay in labor. I've scraped together enough odd jobs to pay the bare minimum in bills, food, and gas. I live in a building with central heat, instead of a yurt with a space heater and no insulation. I'm coming to terms with the changes of the past year, some good, some bad. I'm re-discovering myself, and the things I enjoy. I'm remembering that I get to choose who and how to be, and I'm establishing in my mind the kind of person I am at the core, and the kind of person I want to become.

I'm also getting back to triathlon.

Here's my plan:

In 2014, I want to race Ironman 70.3 Lawrence in June and the Rev3 half-distance at Cedar Point in September. I have family in Kansas and family in Ohio, so both races make sense geographically. I like that they'll book-end the 2014 season for me. And doing multiple 70.3 races in 2014 will prepare me for . . . 

Ironman Zurich in 2015.

That's right. I'm shooting for a full-distance race in 2015, and I'm rewarding myself (and my significant other) with a trip to Europe. I'm socking away as much money as I can spare (I am still mostly unemployed, after all), and hoping that I find gainful employment in time to save for the trip. I've got a year and a half to do it. So if you hear of any job openings, please let me know.

If you're interested in training along with me, I will post all of my training plans online for free use. I will try to get those up in the first week or two of the new year.

I hope you all had a fabulous holiday season. Let me know in the comments or on Facebook about your goals for 2014!

Race Report: Emporia Spring Migration '10

Thanks to my Photographer for putting together this video and taking all these pictures. I'm really lucky to have such a wonderful and talented . . . Photographer.

Podium.

That's what you need to know, straight off. 2nd place, female overall. Podium, baby.

This has been my first time making it that far up the ranks, and it was my primary goal for this race. Go for it, go all out, and get into the top 3 overall. And I did it.

Still, I'm not quite content. The race was smaller this year than it has been previously. I don't feel like the field was as competitive, especially on the women's side. A lot of familiar faces were missing, including a few friendly rivals. And (as always) I know that I could still go faster. So there's still room to improve.

Pre-race

A certain special Photographer came with me to this race, and it was wonderful to have some company on the ride up, and some support as I readied myself for competition. Also interesting was seeing triathlon in a new way, as I introduced someone new (a tri virgin, if you will) to the wonders of multisport. It makes everything more fascinating; lets you see it through new eyes.

Registration and body-marking were straight-forward. There was only a slight breeze, but it was chilly (not as chilly as last year), and the sky was grey. The main thing that struck me--and I could not get over this--was how few faces I knew, and how the familiar faces were conspicuously absent. It was kind of sad, really. Still, there were a few that I recognized, and I got to chat with some of the folks I've met casually at other races, or in previous years. Also? Got to introduce The Photographer.

Warm up was 15 minutes on the bike--very chilly!--followed by a mile on the track. And several bathroom stops. My stomach was roiling with nerves. Between the bike, run, and bathroom, I ran out of time for a swim warm-up. I went to stand in the snake between numbers 46 and 49 (48 was a no-show) and waited for my turn to come.

Swim: 400m in 7:36 (1:53/100m, 7:35 in '09)

I always feel very restrained in a triathlon swim. I'm definitely not giving my all. Just trying to stay within the pack, within a good effort zone, maximizing every stroke, and trying to set myself up for a strong bike/run. Should I be working harder? I don't  know . . .

Didn't get passed. Didn't pass anyone else. Felt strong and fluid throughout. And time is almost exactly what it was last year. Probably have some room to improve on this leg.

T1: 32 sec (52 in '09)

Estimated about 32 seconds, based on the discrepancy between my official bike time and the time on my bike computer. Did I mention that I did this race without so much as a watch?

Bike: 20 km in 36:40 (20.3 MPH, 40:30 in '09)

For the first year EVER, there was almost no wind at this race. Notice that I said almost.

The bike was where I did my best work, at this race. I was focused. I was intense. I was competitive. I was counting down the women as they passed me on the out-and-back. I was a hunter.

But I still feel like I should be faster.

T2: 57 sec (57 in '09)

Oh my goodness, what a mess this was. I was using my new Giro aero helmet for the first time at this race, and it's much tighter than the old one. So I had to put my sunglasses on over the helmet straps. Well when I went to take the helmet off, I forgot about the sunglasses, and ended up getting sunglasses, helmet, and hair all tangled together. I wasted a good 30 seconds standing there and swearing and trying to yank my hair out of my head, if that's what it took. My apologies to the parents of young children who were standing nearby; you may have to explain to your kiddos what some of those words mean.

Again, note that the T2 time is only an estimate.

Run: 5 km in 25:00 (8:02/mi, 25:48 in '09)

I don't think I've ever felt this good on a tri run. My legs felt good and strong and capable. It was like the hills weren't even there. No one passed me on the run, for once! There were a few muscles that felt like they might cramp, but they held off.

Alan (captain of the KSRVTC) was waiting for me about a half mile from the finish. He cheered me all the way in (as he does every year), and helped me to a strong finish. I came across the line feeling like I was going to toss my cookies, but knowing that I'd done my very best.

Total: 1:10:45 (1:15:42 in '09)

Fastest time I've ever posted at this race. 2nd F overall. 36th overall with the men. I'm pleased. But now I'm anxious to see how I'll do at a bigger race, one with a little more depth (especially in the female field). Although looking at the results from last year, I would still have placed 2nd overall with 1:10. And I've done it, now: I've been on the podium. The real podium. The overall podium. And I'm pretty happy about that.

Happy. But not content.

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 . . .

70.3

I've mentioned it only in passing, but it's official--this year, I'll be doing my first half ironman event. Lawrence 70.3. June 14, 2009. And yeah, I just registered. So I'm $240 into it, now, and no turning back.

I'm not scared. Not even particularly excited. Somewhere deep down inside me, I know I can do it. I know it.

My only concern is that it takes me away (at least a little bit) from those short, quick sufferfests that I think are my calling. You've seen pictures of me. I'm clearly not built for distance. The gods don't give legs this massive and muscles this dense to marathoners; these legs are built for sprinting, preferably over very short distances and with the intent to hit somebody really hard at the other end of it.

Yet I find myself setting out on this journey (admittedly a little half-assed), more to see what it's like than to make an honest go of it. And if nothing else, it'll serve as early season base building for those short, intense sufferfests later on.

So the training plan is one week in. I'm loving it. And in five months, I'll be joining the ranks of an elite few who can swim 1.2 miles, bike 56, and run 13.1 all in one day.

2008-2009: What I Will Achieve

These aren't resolutions. They're just things that are going to happen. 

I will perfect my butterfly. Or at least get it good enough that I'm not embarrassed to whip it out at the pool.

I will get my body fat under 20% and my weight under 140.

I will run my first marathon.

I will complete my first half Ironman.

I will frickin' win, dammit.

I will break a 26:00 5k.

I will complete all 50 swim workouts.

I will break a 60:00 10k.

I will be able to keep up with Erin when she's running. 

I will not skip run workouts.

I will not be the trainer who never lifts weights.

I will ensure that the Genesis multisport club makes money this year. 

I will move to Boston.

Why You Should Tri in 2009

I was going to do a top ten list, full of reasons why those of you who (for some reason or another) haven't joined us crazies in the swimming, biking, and running. FYI, the reasons included lycra and the fact that triathlon doesn't hurt nearly as bad as cyclocross.

But, after a little bit of thought, I realized that my primary testimonial for trying triathlon is way less tongue-in-cheek and way more visual. These aren't the only two reasons you should begin preparing (right now!) for a multisport event, but they're good ones.

What are those two good reasons?

Before.

After.

 

And from where I stand, that's reason enough.

Reset

Starting to get little, niggling feelings in the back of my head. Like worms are nibbling on the base of my brain.


I got so burned out and tired at the end of this season--due in part, I'm sure, to the crazy hours I was keeping and the crazy responsibilities I took on at work--that I haven't even wanted to think about next year. In fact, I wasn't sure I would still want to race in 2009. Maybe it was time for a change. Give tri a break. Do just biking. Or just running. Or something completely different.


So I started to get back into climbing (long story, but there's a girl involved). I'd go to the Kansas Cliff Club (local indoor climbing gym) once or twice a week and spend 2 or 3 hours climbing and belaying (and getting nowhere with said girl, ahem).

Thing is, climbing is one of those all-or-nothing things, at least around here. Because if you're going to be into climbing and live in a state where there is absolutely no significant climbing available within a 6 hour drive, you've got to be really serious about it. Because it's not like you can just drive to the nearest good climbing (in Arkansas, by the way) on a whim.

But I am not hardcore about climbing. At all. In fact, I don't think I even really like it, right now (even with the love interest). You know what I like? Swimming. Biking. And--yeah--I really like running. I like doing those three things more than I like climbing or lifting weights or even doing yoga. And I don't know why I like those three things so much, but I fully intend to keep doing them.

Which has got me thinking about next season.

A Part of the World: Appearance (Part II)

Previous entries in this series: Appearance (Part I), Eating, A Part of the World, Conquest

Appearance.

It's hard to know where to go from there.

What is natural is not popular. What is popular is not natural. What is popular is not healthy, and does not lead us toward healthy behaviors or healthy attitudes.

And we, as athletes (or, if you don't consider yourself an athlete, health-conscious people), have very special relationships with our bodies. We move more than other people; we're more active. We exercise! Which means we build a degree of kinesthetic awareness and proprioception that is greatly above the norm. In other words, we know our bodies better.

Oddly enough, this doesn't necessarily mean that we love our bodies. In fact, it can mean just the opposite. Instead of seeing the body as a tool, an ally, a friend that allows us to do some remarkable and crazy things, we see it as an enemy. There's too much of it (or not enough). It's too flabby. It's too short. It doesn't look the way it should. So instead of having an exceptionally close relationship with our bodies because we spend so much time one-on-one with them, we end up (in some cases) developing ever-greater animosity towards them.

And this is not okay. This is not living as part of the world.

So what are we to do?

Oh, nothing too big--just completely revamp our perception of what "healthy" and "fit" look like.


It wasn't that long ago that bustles were considered attractive. Or--even better--hoop skirts! The Modern Victorian Woman says, "I don't care that this fashion makes my butt and hips look enormous--I am wearing it!" Similarly, fashionable Victorian men and women cultivated pale skin; tan was the look of peasants, because they were always outside working. Granted, the peasants were probably much healthier than the fashionable aristocrats, but I am trying to make a point here.

And the point is that we (21st century "civilized" people) have made a habit of tricking ourselves into believing that pursuing what is (currently) fashionable is actually healthy.


Look around the health clubs. People are not necessarily helping their bodies, there. They are doing asinine exercises in pursuit of larger pectorals, bigger biceps, flatter abdominals. Why? Because our cultural perception of how a healthy person looks is so screwed up that we equate those things with fitness, capability, wellness.


And it's just bullshit.


On the other end of the spectrum, we do have to take into account that a large segment of the population is carrying too much body fat on its collective frame. Which has led me recently to ask, "Man, what would these people look like if they were lean and toned, the way evolution predisposed them to be?" Really. What might America look like behind the fat?


Man, this point is so hard to make. What I'm saying is that there must be something between this and this, between nausea-inducing obesity and hyper-focused fitness (you know, the kind of fitness that would prefer a six-pack to a stable spine).


I've said it before: the problem of being part of the world is too big for us to tackle all at once (Tyler Durden, are you listening?)--we have to start with ourselves. So although it would be great to try to change America's perception of a "healthy" appearance, why don't you change your own? Stop trying to fit the frickin' mold! If you're anything like me, your genetics will make that impossible anyway. And don't go too far in the other direction; if you're carrying too much weight, you know it, and it needs to come off.


Now assuming you're still with me and you're willing to change your perceptions, here's your practical application (step 1: change perception, step 2: change yourself): let a healthy appearance be a result of your healthy lifestyle. Stop trying to look "healthy." It is not a goal; it is not an end, in and of itself. It is part of the entire package. The clean, healthful eating. The regular, sensible exercise. The meditation. The spiritual pursuit. The enriching relationships. Rather than trying to look healthy and fit, you are healthy and fit! It's a pursuit of being a better, stronger, more capable person. Of being who and what you were meant (either by evolution or by a higher power) to be. Of being part of the world.


Which does not necessitate a six-pack.

Excuses

I peaked too early.

I haven't trained enough.

I didn't do enough bricks.

I didn't put in enough volume.

It was too hot.

The field was too competitive.

The course was too difficult; if the course had been flatter, I would have killed.

We all make excuses. I try to keep mine internal, as much as possible (so as not to annoy certain people). But at some point, I have to look at myself, look at my times, look at my training, and admit that I'm not where I want to be, and it's my fault. Not in a self-deprecating, guilt-ridden way. In an I'm-responsible-for-my-own-actions way. If I don't put in enough volume, if I don't train enough, if I don't do enough bricks . . . that's my responsibility.

And knowing that, I am empowered to change.

Pre-Race: Shawnee Mission

This is the big one. I have been looking forward to this race all year long. This is why I have been training. This is the race I've been thinking of when I need something to get me through the hard workouts. This is the one I've been dreaming of and mentally rehearsing since January (if not since last July).

This is the one I want to win.

But I'm not sure I can.

I hate to even give voice to that doubt. Really, how can I expect to win if I don't (you know) expect to win?  I'm wondering now if I've done too little. If I've done too much. If I'm under- or overtrained. If I didn't hold back enough and peaked too soon. If I'll be able even to run, or if I'll just have to walk the whole damn thing.

In short, I'm more unsure about this race than I've ever been about anything.

With the possible exception of the first time I did it.

Goals

First place in 22-24 F age group

Top ten women overall

Swim: 1000 m, 18:30

Bike: 18 mi, 1:00

Run: 4.5 mi, 41:30 

(Un)Reasonable Expectations

Breaking into sub-8:00-minute-mile territory has got me thinking.

Running that fast was really difficult. It hurt. I did not want to do it again.

And I know that improvement in sports (in most things, actually; I experienced this while I was still playing piano) ascends to a certain point and then begins to plateau; it operates on a long curve approaching a largely predetermined glass ceiling. And the improvement at the beginning comes a lot easier and more quickly than the improvement close to that limit. For example, I started really adding in speed work last January under the supervision of Coach Rad at USC Tri. And I saw my average pace drop from around 11:30/mile to around 9:20/mile in about four months. So that was pretty quick improvement. This season, I've seen 5k pace at 9:07 and 2-mile pace at 8:16 (but let's not talk about that 10k Wildflower time, okay?) . . . which is still some pretty significant speed gain.

As much as that 1600 hurt on Friday, I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting to the point where the improvements will come slowly, with a lot more hard work and suffering. Which gets me to thinking . . .

What are reasonable (or unreasonable) expectations? Is a 24:00 5k reasonable? What about a 45:00 10k? How about 24.5 MPH on the bike? Or cranking out 300+ watts on average (not that I can afford a frickin' Power Tap right now)? Should I shoot for a 25-minute 1500 M swim?

Here's my concern: Let's say I set my sights on a 24-minute 5k and accomplish that. Will my brain tell my body, "Hey! Good work! Unfortunately, that's pretty much your glass ceiling. That's as fast as you're ever going to run. Sorry legs, I'm just not going to give you enough oxygen to run any faster. Because that's the limit!"

What if, subconsciously, I set limits that don't exist? What if it's enough that they exist as realities in my mind?

This goes back to a post I wrote a while ago: "Believing in Belief." In it I shared accounts of athletes who did truly extraordinary things simply because they thought--no, scratch that, they knew that they could do it. They knew that they could do it. And they did it.

With that in mind, I'd rather have ridiculously unreasonable expectations than accidentally undershoot my full potential because I set my sights too low. And who knows what my body may be capable of?

Maybe there's a Vanessa Fernandez or an Emma Snowsill hanging out in this short, stumpy little body!

Note: I would also like to comment that Vanessa Fernandez is pulling a ridiculous face in that photo, proving once again that event photographers don't take good photos of anyone. Even world champions.

New Heights

Thanks to my workout partner, I have a new fastest ever mile time.

7:48.

This is the first time I've ever run sub-8:00.

And it won't be the last.

The Evolution of Goals: Discuss

Since I wrote about how goals evolve in triathlon, I thought I'd share my own personal progression. Or rather what I can remember of it. Because being in the middle of the lifestyle, it's hard to recall what it was like when I couldn't run even 2 miles. I invite everyone to share their own evolution of goals as well; I'd love to read them in the comments, or on your blog.

So without further ado, having looked through old journals, blog entries, and conversations, here are the ambitions that have run through my head since I started this crazy journey (some of these are direct quotes, by the way).

September, 2006: Learn to swim
February, 2006: Finish Shawnee Mission Triathlon short course
April 10, 2006: Work out for 45 minutes straight/begin training program
May 31, 2006: "Swim .5 km under 15 minutes; Bike 20 km in 1 hour; Run 5km under 30 minutes; Short course triathlon in less than 2 hours"
June, 2006: Finish Shawnee Mission long course.
June, 2006: "My goal is to finish my race, but it would be really cool if I could swim 2:00/100, bike 16 MPH, and run 10:00/mile."
August 30, 2006: "I'm hoping to get my mile time under 30. Oh yeah, and hoping to be able to swim a mile :-)"
October, 2007: Commit long-term to triathlon.
March, 2007: Train harder.
April, 2007: Be competitive in my age group.
July, 2007: Finish in the top half of any race.
December, 2007: Run sub-9:00 5K pace; Swim 2 MPH; Bike avg 20 MPH; Improve mental toughness; Break 3 hours on an olympic-distance tri
April, 2008: Win. A lot.
May, 2008: Place in my age group at Shawnee Mission. Run a 24-minute 5k. Swim a 25-minute 1500. Average 20 MPH on the bike. Be a sponsored athlete.

And my #1 goal? Hook up with another triathlete after a race ;-)

How have your goals progressed over the years? Let's hear it in the comments!

The Evolution of Goals

Note: This post took me quite a while to write. It's been brewing in my head for a long time, and I'm glad to finally release it to you. Thanks for sharing in my journey.

Remember how it began?

"I wonder . . ." or "I bet . . ." or "With enough training . . ."

The goal was to get through it, wasn't it? You knew that if you could be sure that you could swim 525 yards (or 1050 or 1500), could bike 12.5 miles (or 41 km), could just run 3.2 miles (or 6.3 or whatever), you could definitely finish. If you could go the distance and then some, you would definitely cross the line.

And so you did. Then maybe you were two months out from the race when you started thinking, "I know I can finish, but I sure hope I don't finish last." Maybe you even started figuring paces from your workouts, comparing them to finish times from previous years' results. Finishing was no longer enough; you wanted to finish before someone else. Maybe you wanted to win.

Yeah, goals in triathlon are a funny thing. It's not like running or swimming, where most of the top competitors have been top competitors since they were young (and if you couldn't beat the top dogs in 8th grade cross country, what hope do you have now?) . . . Pretty much everyone who's been successful in triathlon is (relatively) new to the sport. Why? Because most of us didn't know this sport existed in high school.

Triathlon is very, as my group fitness director put it, "user friendly"; it's a sport that anyone can do. As my friend Jonathan in the Distance wrote last week, Ironman is everyman. It's every woman, too.

Racing in triathlon is a lot like second-wave immigrants coming to America. It was (still is) such a young country; what wasn't possible in a country like that? If you were hard-working and slightly savvy, the world was your oyster. And maybe not everyone would end up a Rockefeller, but everyone had a shot at comfort. That's what triathlon is like--it's fresh, it's big, and it provides plenty of room for spreading out. You may never be a Dave Scott or Michellie Jones, but you can live that same lifestyle of pushing yourself farther than what seems humanly possible.

All that to say that after a little bit of time in this sport, finishing event after event is no longer enough. You know you can do the distance, but the sport doesn't lose its appeal for that. It's odd, too, in that your new goal comes while you're still doing a race. Tell me, fellow athletes, that you've never spent at least part of a race thinking about how you'll train next time for a faster split. The goal could be anything; break 10 minutes for a 500 yard swim; average 17.5 MPH on your next bike split; run an 8:00-minute pace for a full 10km. Maybe you want to break 3 hours on your next Olympic; maybe you want to break 12 hours on your next Ironman.

The wonderful part about this sport (and about America, if you care to continue the earlier analogy) is that it presents an evolution of goals. And that evolution takes you from wondering what is possible to wondering what isn't.