Not Dead. And no longer in grad school.

 The following things have changed since I last wrote on this blog:

• Finished two clinical rotations
• Bought a house
• Passed board exams
• Moved to Maine
• Graduated with my doctorate in physical therapy
• Got my first job as a physical therapist

For my last year in grad school, I served as president of the student association, mentored students in two courses, and applied for and was accepted to the national honor society for DPTs. I pushed myself hard in the last two terms and paid for it in health and stress level. Now I'm a DPT and have a full-time job working standard office hours for one company for the first time ever. I don't think I knew how hard I'd pushed myself until after graduation when I just had to do one thing--go to work every day. No studying, no exams to prep for, no meetings to plan or resources to put together. At the end of each day, I can come home and play video games until bedtime if I like. It's delightful.

I've given myself some time and space to mentally recover from four years of school and everything that went with it. For the first few months, I still didn't feel motivated to exercise in even the most basic of ways. I mean, not even a short walk in the evenings. I can tell I'm coming back from that level of stress and fatigue because I actually want to work out again. I've started exploring my new home on my bike and I've been getting to work early in the mornings so I can have a short run before I start my days.

On one of those morning runs I passed a sign for the Kennebec River Rail Trail that had featured sponsors, and one of the sponsors was IronMan 70.3 Maine - Augusta. Hmm, I thought. I live near Augusta. In fact, I work in Augusta. That's interesting.

So I signed up for IronMan 70.3 Maine today. And I guess maybe it's worth tracking my training journey on this blog again. I'm coming back from no fitness at all for the past few years to try to get in shape for a 70.3. And I know from experience that you can't fake your way through a 70.3. Maybe there are people out there who are similarly out of shape and want to get back to training or competing or at least participating in mass-start events and my journey will inspire or motivate or inform or something. Or maybe it will be entertaining to follow. At the very least it will be good for me to get my thoughts out of my head and onto a screen.

That's it for now. Here's a pretty picture from my bike ride today as a thank you for reading.

Maine is a very pretty place to live.

Race Report: Rev3 Cedar Point Half

This race wasn't very fun, at least the day of. I was severely undertrained, and it showed. The experience was similar to my first olympic distance triathlon, but twice as bad (because twice as long). Still, I enjoyed my time in Sandusky, thanks mostly to my family and friends, and the experience reminded me that no matter how many triathlons I do and how fit I think I am, I still need to train to be successful. This experience reminded me to respect the sport, especially at these longer distances. In that way, I think this race prepared me for my Ironman, because it will inspire me to be more serious about my Ironman training (rather than assuming that my general fitness can get me through).

The Weekend
Emily and I drove to Mansfield, Ohio, on Friday night to stay with my Uncle Dave and Aunt Lori. My dad also drove up from Kansas to be present for my race. My mom, unfortunately, couldn't get the time off of work, so she missed it. I love my aunt and uncle, and of course my dad, and we had a great time on Friday night hanging out.

On Saturday, we had a yummy breakfast with Dave and Lori, then drove to Sandusky. We stopped at a Walmart along the way to get the fixings for a family barbecue that night, then continued on to Cedar Point. I reserved a cabin at Lighthouse Point (part of the Cedar Point resort complex) for the night, and I'm very glad that I did. The cabin was within a mile of all the race activities. Close enough to walk, but not conveniently. The cabin had a deck with a beautiful view of the lake and a fresh, bracing breeze. The beds were comfy and the cabin was spacious enough for five or six people. We had our own coffee maker, a mini fridge, a grill, and a microwave. The kind ladies at the Lighthouse Point office even let us check in 4 hours early, so we dropped all of our stuff off at the cabin and then went to the race expo.

I got my packet, timing chip, and goodie bag, took a look at the Rev3 kit (a very impressive spread, although not quite as impressive as what I've seen at actual Ironman events), and caught part of the athlete meeting. The goodie bag was the best I've seen in a long time! It came in a musette bag, and had lots of great things in it, rather than just coupons and pamphlets. In all, the free kit at this race made the whole affair a great value, especially when compared to IM 70.3 races that I've done (the entry fee on this one was about the same as IM KS 70.3, and included a T-shirt, finisher's visor, finisher's medal, saddle cover, and the musette bag).

Most of my dad's family lives within an hour drive of Sandusky, and all of them drove to Cedar Point to have a cook out with us that evening! We had a great time eating hamburgers and hot dogs, cheesy potatoes, and peach cobbler. Then we played board games and chatted together. Most of the family wasn't returning to watch me compete (it was a fairly long drive at a fairly early hour, and they all had church the next morning). So the time spent with them was really valuable! Having the opportunity to get together with family was the main reason that I chose this race as my 70.3 for the year.

Two of my cousins, Abby and Nancy, stayed at the cabin with me, Emily, and my dad. I let all of them sleep in the next morning while my dad and I went to the transition area to get me set up. I completely forgot about bringing stuff for breakfast (rookie mistake--one of many!), so I gummed down some leftover hot dog buns and one hot dog from the night before. I also had two cups of coffee, timed so that I would get my morning poo out of the way well before the start of my swim wave.

I set up my transition easily. I know it's silly, but I felt a little intimidated by all of the expensive bikes around me. It happens at every race, but it's a let-down to park my $350 Fuji Road Ace next to all of the sleek, carbon, TT bikes. I know that the engine matters more than the chassis, but I still feel like a poser with my little aluminum road bike--I don't even have aero bars on it!

I warmed up with a light jog around the area, went to the bathroom a couple of times, then headed to the beach with my dad. I put my wetsuit on and jogged around a little more to get the rubber loosened up. I haven't swam in my wetsuit in over a year (another rookie mistake), but Lake Erie would be unpleasantly cold without it, and I needed all the buoyancy help that I could get.

The water was ROUGH. Painfully rough, at least for a lake. Not as bad as Venice Beach in September, but still decidedly unpleasant. I even heard the elites talking about it (in the med tent, but we'll get to that later) after the race. No one had a great swim that day. I haven't dealt with waves (well, a little bit of chop in June in the Potomac river, but that didn't even compare) in . . . Well, it's probably been since I left L.A. (2007). But it's not like I wasn't going to do the race because the water was a little scary. They called my wave to line up, and I shuffled into the water with the other women under 40.

The Swim: 1.2 miles in 50:06 (11/17 in F25-29)
I had not done enough swim training. In particular, I hadn't done any long-distance swims, I hadn't done any open-water swims, and I hadn't swam in my wetsuit. And the waves. I know there is a way to swim in really choppy water, but I've never been good at it. As a result, I spent the first third of the course (the part going straight out from shore) swimming about 8 strokes, stopping to catch my breath and look around, then swimming another 4 strokes. I didn't take on a ton of water, but much more than I'm used to swallowing. Fortunately, Lake Erie is much cleaner than it was 10 years ago (and I should know, since I have an uncle who works at a water treatment facility on Lake Erie). The waves were probably 3-4 feet high. I've swam through higher (but again, not well). But I wasn't prepared or trained to keep swimming after a sudden drop of 4 feet. It was slow going. But you can tell from my position in my age group that it was slow going for everyone. There were still plenty of white swim caps around me, and I was passing swim caps from previous waves.

Once we turned the corner it got a little better, in that I could get into more of a rhythm and try to relax. But by that time, my low back was starting to bother me. Now that I'm not teaching yoga regularly I tend not to do yoga regularly, and my body's been paying the price. My right quadratul lumborem (low back) gets really tight, and it gives me trouble when I swim more than about 800 meters. It was bothering me on race day. This swim wasn't even about getting a decent time; it was 100% about making it through the swim.

The last third of the swim course, with the current at my back, wasn't as quick or easy as I'd hoped; I was counting on a little more help from the current than I got. Still, I was doing better than the people around me, who were disoriented by the feeling of push-pull from the waves. The last 400 meters seemed to take forever. I slipped on the beach exit, and was no help at all for the wetsuit strippers. I was glad to be out of the water and on to the bike, though.

The Bike: 56 miles in 3:34:05 (15.69 MPH, 12/17 in F25-29)
The bike course was lovely. Mostly flat, not as much wind as I expected so close to the coast of the lake, and a very nice temperature. Honestly, I don't remember much about it, other than just trying to enjoy myself. I brought three Honey Stinger waffles and two packs of Honey Stinger chews for my nutrition, and I lost two of them trying to get something to eat in the first 800 meters of the bike course. I'm glad I didn't get a penalty for littering, but I was very sad to see those waffles go. They taste much better than Powerbar gels.

I only have room on my bike for a single down-tube bottle. The frame is too small to have a seat tube bottle holder, and I won't use behind-the-seat bottle cages after my experience at my last 70.3 in Kansas (I lost most of my nutrition at that race, and it destroyed me). Fortunately, there were aid stations every 10 miles, so I got a full bottle and a gel at every station. That had me drinking 20 oz. of water and taking in 100 calories about every 45 minutes. I supplemented that with my remaining Honey Stinger chews, and ended up with 200-300 calories every hour. Based on what I've done in training, that was my goal.

My riding slowed down more and more as I got closer to the end. In the final five miles, I was (once again) focused solely on making it through. I already felt tired and spent; I had no idea how I was going to make myself run right off the bike.

The Run: 13.1 miles in 3:21:39 (15:24/mile, 14/17 in F25-29)
I surprised myself with the amount of energy that I had coming out of T2! It actually felt good to run. I was flummoxed, but enjoying the feelings. I did my best to restrain myself, because I knew that if I ran as fast as I felt I could at that point, I would pay for it later.

The first few miles of the race weren't bad. I walked the aid stations and took in as much as I dared at each one. At the mile 3 aid station, I passed up the opportunity to put on more sunscreen (another rookie mistake, and I paid dearly for it later!). Around mile 3, we got away from the lake and into the town of Sandusky. The blacktop was boiling hot, and there was no shade anywhere. I was not happy with the race directors for choosing this particular course.

Things took a turn for the worse around mile 5. I started feeling some GI distress, and I couldn't get any food or water in. I stopped at a toilet, and that helped a little. I walked for a while, and that helped a little. But my body was still too hot, and now I had a serious calorie problem, because I couldn't get any food in. I could barely get water in. I walked for the next mile or two.

I was able to start running again between miles 6 and 8, and I started to feel more optimistic. At that point, we were running through "downtown" Sandusky (more a Main street than a downtown, and totally deserted). There was a little bit of shade, here and there, and I ran in it as much as I could. I was starting to feel . . . crispy. I realized then that it was a mistake to pass up the sunscreen, as I was going to be out there much longer than I'd planned.

I was still having trouble taking in calories; even water felt like too much. I walked a lot, getting passed by people I'd passed earlier. Still, I saw plenty of people with half-distance numbers walking, too, as some of them were on their way out while I was on my way back. So at least I wasn't DFL. I was able to run off and on between miles 8 and 9, but I could feel the lugnuts coming loose. The wheels were going to come off; it was just a question of when.

By mile 10, I was toast. I was able to put on some sunscreen at an aid station around that time, and it probably did some good (since the last 3 miles probably took about an hour). By this point, I was checking my watch and doing math, trying to figure out if I could still make it in under the cut-off.
Those last 3 miles were brutal. I considered sitting down on the road and waiting for an ambulance many times. I walked the entire time, almost tripped on more than one occasion, and was preparing myself for the possibility that I might need to crawl part of the way. The last 30 minutes passed in a blur. Even during the last mile, I was still questioning my ability to finish.

I did finish, and was even able to muster a job for the last 200 yards through the finishing chute. I crossed the line, got hugs from my dad, Emily, and Dave and Lori, then headed straight for the medical tent.

Total: 70.3 miles in 7:51:02 (13/17 F25-29)
I don't know whether the cut-off was at 8:00:00 or 8:30:00, but I'm glad that I didn't have to find out. This time embarrasses me. I can't believe that it took me almost as long to cover 13.1 miles on foot as it did to cover 56 miles on a bike. I didn't train well enough, and I didn't respect the race enough. I neglected my swimming (especially open-water swimming), and lacked the endurance base to have a successful 70.3 experience.

But I did finish, and that in itself was a valuable accomplishment. And the experience and perspective that I gained was valuable. I don't think I've ever had to (or been able to) push myself so hard to finish a race. I'm empowered by having to dig so deep to get through the race.

I spent about 15 minutes in the med tent. Someone came over and checked my pulse, blood oxygenation, and blood pressure. They were all a little bit off of normal, but not dangerously so. I stayed horizontal on a cot, drinking as much water as I could, while my vitals came back down (or up, as the case may be). After 10 minutes, they checked on me again, and the numbers had improved. About that time, I got really cold, so they got me a blanket and a big cup of hot chicken broth.

I didn't realize this, but hot chicken broth is apparently magic. As soon as I started drinking that stuff, I felt instantly better. I felt warm, and my stomach settled down. I could get up and walk around. I had a little bit of energy. I knew that hot chicken broth is a staple of ultra endurance races, from the Ironman on up to ultra marathons, but I'd never experienced its healing power myself. It's magic. I'm going to remember that for next year.

I ended up with a pretty good sunburn, but it wasn't as bad as I expected, based on how I felt on the race course. It was sore for a couple of days, especially around my neck and under my right arm. After two days, it faded into a tan, and I didn't have very much peeling. With my fair skin, I was surprised at how quickly and painlessly it cleared up.

Although I liked this race, I did not enjoy the run course at all. It was boring. It was too exposed. And it offered too few opportunities for spectating and cheering. I think the run course should be altered in the future.

I didn't take advantage of discounted Cedar Point tickets, but I wish I would have! On Saturday, Cedar Point was closed for a private event (I think held by Honda for their employees), but racers and their families could get in. It would have been awesome to get to ride some rides and not have to wait through super long lines! I decided against doing that because I didn't want to be on my feet a lot the day before a race. If I had to do it over again, though, I would definitely have spent some time riding the roller coasters.

I'm very glad that I stayed at a Cedar Point resort, rather than off-site. It made getting around the morning of the race and after the race much easier. We also got validated parking, which saved $15. The cabins were great, with very nice views and wonderful amenities. They were also nice and quiet. Or at least our neighbors were quiet. We weren't, because we were playing board games.

I am considering doing this race again next year, but as an aqua bike instead of a triathlon. It will be about a month before Ironman Barcelona, so I think it would be good preparation if I did the full aquabike. Besides, cutting out the run would mean that I can spend lots of time on my feet at Cedar Point the day before!

Update: Weeks 6 & 7

After my first week of epic work schedules, I got terribly, horribly, awfully sick. I skipped every single workout of week 6. Every single one. And it was the right thing to do. I needed the recovery badly. I missed several days of work. The lumps in my armpit and elbow got much bigger and much more painful, so painful that they kept me awake at night. So I went to see a doctor last week, and she put me on antibiotics. She said it's most likely just an infection in the lymph glands; it happens sometimes; she's seen it before. It could also be something more serious, but she suggested that we try antibiotics first, and go from there.

So that was week 6. Stayed home from work, and did absolutely no exercise.

Week 7 brought recovery again, which was a good thing. My first day back after being ill, I meant to do a short hill interval session, but my body felt weak and tired after the warm-up, so I kept it to a 45-minute recovery ride. Got a swim in on Wednesday. The swim felt reasonably good, and my times were passable, but something felt a little off. I felt like my arms were weak, not from sickness, but from lack of strength training this winter. So I did a long pull set! My Wednesday night run didn't go well at all, though. It had been relatively warm during the day, so I didn't dress warmly enough for the icy wind and snow that began shortly before my run. It was my first run in the Brooks Ghosts, and my achilles tendinosis made itself known in the first quarter mile. I'm not blaming the Brooks; it could just as easily be lack of warm-up, or the fact that I'd spent the whole day on my feet.

Speaking of which, standing all day takes a toll on my body. Plantar fasciitis, achilles tendinosis, and a wicked case of piriformis syndrome that's shooting pain down my left leg. I'm not sure what to do about it, though. I've been rolling on a tennis ball and stretching. I don't want to prop up my aching body with insoles; that will just make it worse in the long run. I may just need to work in more therapeutic exercises.

My armpit lump is still swollen and painful. I swam today, and I can feel the lymph node stretching painfully every time I raise my arm overhead. I'm worried about it. My roommate thinks I need to take it easy with my training until the lumpy armpit resolves itself. I don't want to take a break, of course. After all, exercise is supposed to be good for you!

That's where I am right now. I'm disappointed with the lack of consistency in my training, and fearful of the prospect of missing even more. So we'll see how this week goes.

Update: Week 5

Hurray for recovery! I feel much better after a week of relative rest.

This week, I began incorporating higher-intensity intervals, like short hill climbs, track speedwork, and fast 25s in the pool. I've never experienced such a dialed-in training plan; I feel like every interval workout challenges me the perfect amount--the first half are easy, the next quarter are tough, and the last few are almost unbearable. It's like I can feel my fitness increasing! I'm not sure if it's because I've got more room to improve, after two years of sporadic triathlon training, or if this is what it feels like to transition from the high-power, high-speed fitness that I associate with youth to the endurance peak in the mid- to late-thirties. I'm not even thirty yet, but I feel like my body is changing.

My training this past week wasn't perfect, unfortunately. I've mentioned previously that I got two jobs. One is full-time with Dick's Sporting Goods. The other is part-time with QuikTrip. Both companies hired me almost simultaneously, though, so both had my schedule as full availability. The result? Two fourteen-hour workdays in which I worked from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Dick's, then from 3 p.m. to 10 p.m. at QT. I considered hitting the YMCA for a swim/run combo on Friday morning, but thought better of it. Twenty-eight hours of work in a 48-hour period stresses my body enough without adding two workouts, even of only moderate intensity. I missed three workouts this week--one in each discipline. I think I've got my availability tuned in for both jobs now, but it won't take affect until next week, which means that this week will be another bruiser. Still, at least I'm working and making money! I see a new bike, lots of races, and a trip to Switzerland in my future! Oh, and the opportunity to pay off some student loans.

I'm already experiencing one of the benefits of being a running specialist at Dick's: complimentary promotional shoes! I got a pair of Brooks Ghost 6 running shoes to evaluate! I'm liking this job more and more. If you live in the Kansas City area, come see me at the Zona Rosa Dick's sometime! We'll talk tri!

In other, somewhat-related news, I have a large, painful lump under my right armpit, with smaller lumps at my elbow. I think they're swollen lymph glands. The armpit one has been there for about a week, the elbow lumps for less than a week. This worries me. I speculate that the lymphatic pathway down my right arm is reacting to . . . something. No idea what. Something potentially serious, I fear. Or not. My roommate thinks it's just stress from too much work and exercise, not enough rest. I'm giving it another week or two, and if it doesn't go away, I'll get it checked out.

Additionally, my right shoulder, which I messed up in the business of being born, has slipped over into full-on shoulder impingement. Expect an article soon on how to deal with shoulder impingement. If I can get to it between two jobs and half-ironman training, that is.

Week 4 update

My body felt very tired after three weeks of exercise. After this first meso-cycle, all the others will be three weeks instead of four, so I hope that this is as tired as I'll be this year. I missed most of my running the third week because the weather was so gross. I know that sounds pretty lame to my readers who are buried under three feet of snow, but I didn't have access to a treadmill, and there were no safely cleared paths on which to run. So I didn't run. I also skipped a bike ride.

Week 4 provided some much-needed recovery. I skipped two of three swimming workouts, because I've had pain in my shoulders. After two years of minimal swimming, I think I've shocked my body with this sudden onset of swim training. So I gave my shoulders a break and skipped a couple of swims. My legs felt tired during my bikes and runs, too, but I got them done!

I hit my 1000m swim test, though; I did 1000m in 17:55! I know it's not a world-record time or anything, but it's one of my faster times. Not bad, considering I just started swimming again a month ago!

I also joined the YMCA in Kansas City last week. I wanted to join the community center where I've been swimming up until now, but their hours are more limited, and I've got two jobs now. The Gregg/Klice pool is open from 10:45 to 5:30, and I'm sure there will be days when I can't get there during those times.

It's nice to be making money again, and to have a job where I work certain hours and get paid for them. Self-employment exhausted me, as much as I enjoyed setting my own schedule and self-directing. It's refreshing to have someone else tell me what to do, at least for a while. I don't know how long I'm going to be able to combine two retail jobs, though, not to mention half ironman training. I may be overly ambitious.

Half-Ironmman Training Plan 2014

I'd like to share my training plan for the first part of this year. There are plenty of sources for free training plans, of course; the one I've used in the past with some success is Ontri.com, but if you search online, you'll find a dozen sites offering a similar, free service. I purchased Triathlete Magazine's Essential Week-by-Week Training Guide by Matt Fitzgerald several years ago. Best $30 I've ever spent on triathlon. I have a few other training books, too: Triathlete's Edge by Marc Evans and The Triathlete's Training Bible by Joe Friel. I base all of my training plans around Fitzgerald's format, modifying based on Evans's and Friel's advice and my own experience.

I modify my training plans for my own needs, but if your needs are similar to mine, you may find my 2014 half-ironman plan helpful. Some details about my personal plan:

• I borrow heavily from Fitzgerald's interval recommendations; the base training plan is his, not mine.
• I write all my own swim workouts, but derive the substance of main set intervals from Fitzgerald's book.
• Most training plans follow a 3 week on, 1 week off pattern--that is, you spend every fourth week recovering. I've found that my body works best with a recovery week every third week. So my training plan gives you 2 weeks on, 1 week off. 
• It's a 20-week training plan, but (as you may notice) 20 does not divide evenly by 3. So the first training block is 4 weeks: 3 weeks on, 1 week off.
• There's a 2-week taper before the half-ironman race.

My training begins next Tuesday (Jan. 21); if you want to do Ironman 70.3 Kansas with me, yours should too! Here's the first training cycle; it covers the next four weeks.

2014 70.3 Plan (Meso-cycle 1)

And a few notes to help you interpret it:

• There are 3 workouts in each discipline each week.
• S=Swim, K=Kick, I=Individual Medley, P=Pull, so SKIPS means 100 swim, 100 kick, 100 IM, 100 pull, 100 swim. It's my favorite warm-up.
• I recommend always doing backstroke for cool-down, to try to reverse some of the repetitive stress on the shoulders from so much freestyle.
• The third sheet in the file has a chart for your heart rate intensities, but it's up to you to determine your training zones; do a quick online search, and you'll find plenty of articles on how to do it.
• This plan uses time instead of distance to set run and bike volume.

If you have any other questions, e-mail me or leave a comment below!

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!

70.3 Kansas 2014: Week 1

First training week is over! I got through all nine workouts. I found a nice, cheap place to swim, went outside in sub-zero wind chills for a ride, and explored Midtown Kansas City via running. I feel very accomplished. Neither aches nor pains have troubled my training; so far, my body seems okay with the suddenly increased training volume. Except for my crotch. My crotch objects strongly to the sudden increase in bike saddle time.

I'm swimming at the Gregg/Klice Community Center near the Crosslands District of Kansas City. A swimming day pass costs only $2. There are no lap lanes, but so far I've had the pool mostly to myself. There were two women playing water basketball right next to me, the other day. They got into the pool in my lane just as I was swimming past the ladder. If they'd waited for five seconds, I would have been out of the way. Ah well. Can't expect everyone to know and follow basic pool etiquette. The lifeguards there have been fantastic, though. And I can get a month pass to swim there for only $15.

I did my first ride, power intervals, on the trainer. For the second ride, a simple one-hour bike, I ventured outside on my cyclocross bike. My parents gave me some terrific thermals for Christmas--very warm! I figured they would be enough to protect me from the negative wind chills. I wore bike shorts, my new thermals, a jersey, a heavy cycling jacket, a balaclava, my ninja mask, two pairs of socks, and snow gloves.

Bike ninja!

But it wasn't enough! My eyes started watering and stinging as soon as I started moving. After half an hour, my feet were freezing. I started worrying about frostbite. I needn't have worried. When I got back, my feet hurt like the skin was being peeled off in strips. But they were fine within five minutes. For my third ride, I got to explore the Brush Creek Trail in Kansas City. And the weather was much nicer, with temps in the high forties, minimal wind, and a cloudless, sunny sky.

My three runs all went well, although I'm slower than I like, this early in the season. I'm enjoying running in Midtown KC; much easier than biking in Midtown. I've found such a nice swimming facility, and I've found good running areas, but I'm still figuring out the best places to ride in Kansas City. If you know of any good cycling routes, or any riding groups that will tolerate a rider in the 16-18 MPH range, please leave me a comment letting me know!

So that's my training so far this year. Have you started training yet? How is it going? Let me know in the comments!

IMKS 70.3 Video!

From (you guessed it) The Photographer :-D

Race Report: IM 70.3 KS 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pre-Race: IMKS 70.3 2010

I can't sleep.

I have a half ironman in less than 5 days.

I don't really have the mental capacity to write a full blog post, but I have to write something.

I'm not nervous, or anything. Just can't sleep. It's like I can feel individual synapses firing in my brain when I lay still enough. Gah.

I'm so ready for this race. Should have started training about a month later than I did. I feel like I've had six weeks of tapering. My base building was done eons ago. I know I have the fitness to get through the race. And maybe all the sharpening has put me in position to go faster than ever. What do we think? Definitely sub-6:00. Maybe a 2:05 1/2 marathon? How about I really go for it and shoot for a 1/2 marathon PR? No, I don't think that's realistic. But sub-6:00? Hell yeah.

Okay. I'm going to go try to sleep again.

As it Stands (and looking to the future)

First of all, the ankle is getting much better. It's not ready for running, yet; I want to give it at least one more week before I try any impact on this poor achilles tendon. But it's to the point where I can walk normally, and do most activities. I can even unclip my right foot from my SPD pedals, as long as I take it slow. Next week, I'm going to try a few miles on the elliptical, and I've been water jogging as well. Swimming is going (ahem) swimmingly. I'm hoping I'll be back to running within the next two weeks, and Chris Cross (next Sunday) is looking like a good possibility.

Now for what comes next. If Chris Cross doesn't or can't happen next week (that is if I decide that a cyclocross race isn't worth compromising the long-term health of my ankle), I'm ready to just scrap the cross season. There's always next year, after all.

This next week begins a long-term training plan for me, building up to a 26.2 mile journey in L.A. on March 21. I've always felt sort of ambivalent about marathons. Everyone does them. They don't seem like that big a deal, anymore. It's like a 4-minute mile: still impressive, but not superhuman. At any rate, I wasn't really interested in running one.

But after finishing at Lawrence, my mind started wandering here and here, and even here. And I knew that in order to make those dreams reality, I would (almost) have to run a marathon. (Quick note: I know people who have gone Iron without ever having done a marathon; it's possible, but not something I want to do.)

So here's the run-down on Jamie's future: P.F. Chang half-marathon in Phoenix in January. L.A. Marathon in March. Then depending on how that marathon feels . . . well, if it totally kicked my ass, then I'll see you in Lawrence in June. If I finish and I feel good and I feel strong and I feel excited . . .


Then I'll see you here in September.

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 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.

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.