The Next Step: Consistency

On Friday, I started a little series on how to take your racing from "Yay! I finished!" to "Sweet! I'm in the top third of the field for the first time ever!"

It begins with consistency, just like with most improvements in fitness. If you're like me, you came into tri with no previous background in sport (and if you're not like me, most of this series probably won't help you anyway), which means no athletic base to speak of. Any working out you do when you're just getting started will be beneficial, so try to do something every day, even if it's not swimming, biking, or running. Maybe try a group fitness class like cycling or kickboxing. I remember the first year I was training (junior year of college), and I was starting to really think that I could handle anything that fell within the realm of "cardio." One of my friends from my a cappella group invited me to her cardio kickboxing class. And for some reason, I thought it would be easy (surely it wouldn't hold a candle to a transition run). I got my ass kicked.

So I did the class a few more times.

In terms of training principles, the kickboxing class wasn't specific to what I wanted to accomplish. It wasn't swimming, biking, or running. It wasn't the appropriate intensity to get me the aerobic base (zone 2, anyone?) that I most needed at that stage in my training; my heart rate was through the roof the whole time. Those classes didn't fit into my training in any way that The Triathlete's Training Bible would suggest. But doing those classes gave me a confidence that I wouldn't otherwise have had; yes--I really could make it through 45 minutes of cardio hell.

Point is, when you're just starting, it's not so important what you do as just doing it. If you have time to get in a two-hour ride on Saturday morning, great. If you oversleep and miss that two-hour window but you can hit a spinning class later in the day, then do that. The spinning class won't be as specific to triathlon (and therefore less effective than getting out on your bike), but it's still good.

Another aspect of consistency is maintenance. If you're consistent for a month and then lose it, you're not going to see the improvement you want. Through most of my first two years in the sport, my running was especially inconsistent. I would start the season with the best of intentions, with three runs a week. Two months into my training plan, the only workout I was still hitting consistently was a weekly track workout--no long run, no tempo run, no easy run, no group run . . . and then I wondered why I wasn't seeing as much improvement in my run as my teammates.

A lot of maintaining that kind of consistency--hitting all of the workouts you want to do, week in and week out--has more to do with fun than with motivation. If you're looking forward to that 4-mile run, you're much more likely to get out and do it! How do you make workouts more fun? Easiest way is to do them with other people. Find a training group in your area. Even if it's runners or cyclists (as opposed to triathletes), find a group and start working your way into their workouts. Be sure, however, that you find athletes who are of similar abilities; running alone because you got dropped by the rest of the group after 5 minutes will be even less fun than running alone would have been.

So here's a quick run-down of how to improve your speed with consistency:

• Do something every day, even if it's not swimming, biking, or running (taking one day off per week is fine).
• Stay consistent day-to-day, week-to-week by hitting all of your scheduled workouts (even if "scheduled" is just in your head, not on a fancy-schmancy training plan).
• Find a group workout or two to help you hit your goal workouts.

Do you have questions? Ideas? Vicious insults? Sound off in the comments, or send me an e-mail at jamielynnmorton[at]gmail[dot]com.

The Next Step: Getting Faster

At the Derby tri on Sunday, as I was relaxing (and eating cookies) with one of the athletes I've trained, she said something that's stuck with me all week:

"I just need to get faster."

A lot of readers who find their way to this blog are just getting started. But I have a feeling that there are many more of you who have a few races under your belts. You've done that first event, felt the rush of finishing (no matter how long it took or how hard it felt), and are now into it enough that you feel comfortable telling people, "Yeah, I'm a triathlete."

But there's a problem. You're beyond the point where just finishing is enough; you've "just finished" a couple times, and are tired of being stuck on the last page of the results. Or maybe you've done a few races and have seen your run or bike or swim get a little bit faster each time, but now those times are starting to slide backwards. You want to be faster.

How the hell do you do that?

As a coach, I could give you some basic guidelines about building aerobic base and improving technique and working out in a group and getting on a training plan and blah blah blah. And all of those things are good.

But what will be much more valuable, I think, is to tell you from personal experience what's worked for me. Because I've gone through the experience of spending a few months working hard and training and reading online articles and blogs and doing everything right . . . and then being shocked to find my name still one of the bottom ten. Um, I've also had races where I didn't do anything right and didn't train enough and went in thinking, "I'm tough; I'll get through in such-and-such a time." Have to say I wasn't really shocked to be one of the last five across the line that time, though.

The point is that I didn't have the experience of coming into the sport and being good at it right away. I was a back-of-the-packer (still am, sometimes), and have worked hard to get into the competitive reaches of my age group (at least at small races). That's how most of us do this sport, right? We're not going to be pros (wrong genetics), but we work hard and we get to where we consistently get an age-group or division medal, maybe even expect to win. We can certainly work our way up into the top quarter of all finishers, whatever our genetics.

That's the question I want to address: How do you start getting faster?

I started out trying to address it all in one post. Then, after I previewed it and realized it would take hours to say all I wanted to say, I decided to break it up. So over the next few weeks, I'll be talking about my take (based on personal experience) on how to get from beginner to competitor.

• Consistency
• Technique
• Specific training
• Racing
• Single-sport focus
• Chasing it down

Look for the article on consistency to appear on Monday. See you then, and happy training!

Performance

Take that, hipsters!



(Just to clarify, I have nothing against fixies. But we all just ride them to get stronger, right?

Beginners' Guide: The Proper Application of Body Glide

I don't think that I've ever chafed as much as I did at this last race.

There are always blisters, mind you. There's always at least one toe that gets rubbed a little raw, and I walk funny for a couple days after.

But this time, I have blisters on the ends of most of my toes, the back of my heels, a nasty-looking cut from where the chip-timing band cut into my leg, and a little spot on my right hip that's from God-only-know-what.

All that to say that lube is important. And if you're a newbie, you might not know that.

Body Glide is probably the most popular choice for triathletes and runners, but you have other options as well. I've found that Chamois Butt'r, which is more popular with cyclists, works just as well and is easier to apply, in some cases. I'm sure there are other suitable options, as well. But Body Glide seems to be the one that most triathletes use, so I'll stay within that realm for the purpose of not confusing the hell out of everyone.

Body Glide looks like a stick of deodorant. It's a lubricant that will help prevent chafing in . . . all kinds of uncomfortable places. It's an important thing to have in your gear bag, whether you're swimming, cycling, running, or doing all three.

But where do you put the stuff? Are there any sort of guidelines for which areas need to be covered?

Before I answer that question, understand that Body Glide is probably not something that you want to share with your friends or teammates unless you are very, very close.

That said, there aren't really any guidelines as far as where you use Body Glide. The main thing is to put it wherever you find you blister or chafe. But here are a few places that I find it to be really helpful.

Feet

Backs of the ankles, tips of the toes, side of the big toes, in between the toes (particularly between the fourth toe and the little toe), and the inside of the medial sides of your feet. Body Glide will help prevent blisters, so be liberal with it on your tootsies, especially if you're planning to race without socks. I also like to put Body Glide on the backs of my cycling and running shoes, where they rub my ankles.

Legs

Sometimes I have trouble with chafing along the elastic leg-gripper bands on bike shorts; this isn't usually an issue with silicone grippers, I've noticed. More importantly, hit the creases of your thighs with the stuff, right where the leg joins your hip. I've had that area rubbed raw by the flat-lock seams of the chamois in my tri shorts; it seems like it's worse in tri shorts. If you have thighs that rub together (like me) when you run, you can also rub Body Glide in that area, and you'll be much less likely to deal with those uncomfortable quarter-sized patches on the insides of your legs that take forever to heal and hurt like a mofo.

Arms

Armpits, especially if you shave them. Even a little stubble can be excruciating if your arms are swinging back and forth for hours at a time. Also hit the insides of your arms all over. It's entirely possible that you'll have a seam in your top that can rub the soft inside of your upper arm raw. That's another place that's very uncomfortable and takes a while to heal.

Wetsuits

Very important to have some Body Glide if you have a wetsuit swim. Put body glide on your wrists and ankles first, to make it easier to slide the suit over your hands and feet. Also put body glide all around your neck, or wherever the suit hits you, and on the insides of your arms, if you have a sleeveless suit.

In addition to Body Glide, you can do yourself the favor of not wearing cotton for racing or training, and that includes socks. Technical clothing is more expensive, but it's well worth it in terms of value and comfort. So drop the extra $20 for the good stuff. Improper run mechanics and ill-fitting shoes can cause blistering, so work on your run form and make sure you have quality shoes. These seem like things that wouldn't be a big deal, but they can make a big difference in how you feel on race day, which translates to a better race.

Beyond those basic (and very common) guidelines to prevent chafing, you need to find your own way. For example, I have got this spot on my hip about two inches above my ASIS that is rubbed raw. I have no idea what did it; it's never happened before; but you can bet that I'll be putting some lube over that spot before my next race.

Race Report: Derby Rock 'n' Route Tri

I only have one thing to say.

Boo-yah.

I don't know when this race got to be such high stakes for me. Maybe it was the thought of smashing my time from Emporia. Maybe it was the promise of a small field, and a chance to place high. Maybe it was the local feel, a race where everybody knows your name.

Or maybe it was that the (awesome) race director pulled in a big sponsor (Wal Mart) that donated a couple of iPods for the top finishers.

Whatever the reason, I came into this race with high expectations. And I feel like I (and the race) delivered on them.

Pre-race
I did this one alone, and I was okay with that. I set up a nice playlist for pre-gaming. Okay, actually (as a quick aside) I set up three playlists: one for 4:30-5:30 (wake up/shower/eat/drive to race site), one for 5:30-6:00 (packet pick-up and transition set-up), and one for 6:00-7:00 (my "get in the zone" mix). I know. It is a little excessive.


Anyway, I didn't really have anyone coming to cheer me on. No family present. Plenty of people I know were/would be there, but all of us were there to race. No one spectating for me. And I was (I think for the first time) completely okay with that. I was there to race for myself. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was going mano y mano with yours truly, and I was going to see how I measured up.

Also, my family was kind of getting on my nerves this week.

Transition was smaller than I expected, but definitely more crowded. There were chip-timing mats everywhere, indicative of getting really good splits. I set up quickly, collected everything I would need, and headed out to make sure my TT bike was in good working condition (because, um, I hadn't been on it for two weeks prior to that day). Everything seemed to be okay (ha!), and I had my bike shoes on my pedals (which is the real reason I warm up on the bike), so I re-racked and headed out for a little run.

Oh boy did it feel good. I felt strong. I felt confident. I felt like a runner.

I felt like I was gonna kick some ass.

Swim: 400 m, 8:28 (2:07/100 m)
This race was set up similar to Emporia: pool swim, time-trial style, with athletes leaving every 20 seconds. So we had a long, friendly snake traveling the length of the pool. I was anti-social and kept my headphones in until the last possible second, trying to simultaneously psych myself up and calm myself down. I definitely got the psyched part, no sweat.

When the moment finally came, I wasn't quite expecting it. The race official said, "Number 53, GO!" and I went. I just hopped in and wasn't totally prepped and ended up with a little water up my nose. But I pushed off anyway and went for it.

The lap pool at Rock River Rapids is long course. I haven't been in a long course pool since the last time I went back to USC, which was over a year ago. I forgot how nice it is. But because of that, you get one lane all to yourself. None of the down-and-back crap we have to deal with at Emporia; no worrying about running into another swimmer because he/she can't stay on his/her side of the lane line; no messy congestion if someone (heaven forbid) should need to pass. Just one big, wide, long lane all to yourself. Flip turns under the rope at the end of each length, too. I flubbed the first three, but nailed the fourth one and didn't have any trouble after that.

The guy right behind me caught up to me at about the 300 m mark. He had pretty much passed me when we came to the wall, and I would have let him go except he took so long to turn! He stopped and grabbed the wall and turned around and pushed off and by the time he did all that, I had already flip turned under him and was gone. He pulled alongside me again, and I was kind of anxious for him to pass; I would have appreciated the draft! But I kept on my own pace, and he apparently didn't have enough to get past me. By the end of that second-to-last length, I was in front of him again, and stayed there the whole time. 

The swim felt so, so good. I felt like a fish. Somewhere in the middle I'm sure I had a little moment of feeling myself slowing and starting to fight the water, but I got it worked out and stayed slow and smooth the whole time. I'm kind of surprised by my time, for that reason. 8:28? It felt like I was swimming fast enough to go with no more than 7:30! But I (ahem) hadn't been in the pool for a while, and I guess that is bound to happen when you have a little lay-off. At any rate, I felt strong and capable, and set myself up for a nice bike.

T1: 23 seconds
Fastest time of all competitors. I am a bad-ass.

Bike: 14 miles, 43:42 (19.2 MPH and second-fastest female split)
Wow. I really thought it was faster than that. Ah well.

The bike is where things started to get interesting. Because (like I said earlier) I haven't been on my TT bike lately; I've been spending a lot of time with the roadies, getting ready for cyclocross, building some power. So the first thing was I didn't know if my bike was going to work. I mean, I assumed it would; no reason why it shouldn't. But then again, things have a way of happening to bikes that sit in the garage for long stretches of time, and this one hadn't been ridden in a couple of weeks. Long story short, everything did not work. I had no speedometer. Which wasn't the end of the world, as I wasn't racing with a heart rate monitor or even a watch. So the lack of one more bit of data wasn't too crushing.

The other result of my long absence from aero was that my body was a little cranky in the tucked position. First thing out on the bike course (after I got into my bike shoes, that is), my hamstrings started cramping really bad. And I thought right away about how stupid it was to ignore my poor Specialized for so long.

Plus, the course was hilly and windy. And these (of course) are not big hills. These are not even medium hills. These are just tiny little bumps in the road, but they just kept coming! And combined with the wind, it was a fairly tough course. But I was trucking along so well, so still I'm shocked that my average speed was just barely over 19 MPH; I figured it would be closer to 21. I guess the hills and the wind too their toll.

It was certainly work. The wind was coming sort of from the south and east, so we had a headwind/crosswind going two directions. And even with the (baby) hills, there aren't a lot of trees in the area, so there's plenty of places where you really have no protection from the wind's gusting. It wasn't the worst I've been out in (no 40 MPH gusts today!), but it was enough to make the effort noticeably harder, and the speed (apparently) noticeably slower.

There was one incredibly wonderful stretch of flat road with a good tailwind, and I managed to hammer pretty well through that section. Of course, I don't know how well, because my speedometer wasn't working. And then the end of the bike course took us through a suburban neighborhood. Lots of twists and turns. I made up some more time on competitors there.

All-told, I don't feel like I got as much out of the bike as I normally do, as I could have and should have. And I think a lot of it has to do with the kind of training I've been doing recently. Not that I necessarily regret the direction I've taken, and I don't think I would have changed it. Well, maybe I would have gotten out on my Specialized at least once this last week.

T2: 24 seconds
Third out of all the women on this one. That's okay, I guess (wink wink).


Run: 5 k, 26:45 (8:36/mile)
Oh boy did this hurt. Right at the end of the bike course, I managed to pass four women. Three of those four passed me within the first mile (the fourth passed me near 2.5 miles). That part wasn't what hurt, though; I figured I put enough time into them on the bike that I could beat all but one of them in the overall standings (so weird, this staggered start thing).

The part that hurt was the running. I put out a lot of effort on the bike; I could feel it while I was doing it. And I knew that I was going to pay for it on the run, but I was flirting with that thin line between going hard and exploding.

On this run, I kept waiting for the explosion.

It never came, which was good, but I still suffered quite a bit. Derby is fairly rolling, but--again--we're not really talking hills, here. More like false flats. Little downhills, little uphills. Well, at least one big uphill, and one long, gradual incline in the last half mile.

This was the part of the race where I regretted not wearing a watch. I think I could have pushed myself a little better if I'd had some sense of pacing. I'd really like to be one of those athletes who can push entirely off of perceived exertion, but I'm not (yet). I do really well with a heart rate number that tells me, "Hey! Only 178! You can go faster!" or a pace reading that says, "8:20 for that last mile; you can surely keep that up, right?" Perceived exertion . . . I feel like I just don't have the focus to go my hardest and hold it there, especially with triathlon. In a bike race, it's easy; all I have to do is ask myself, "Would I be able to run after this?" and if the answer is yes, I need to work harder. But triathlon is so much more about conservation, and it's hard to get out of that mindset on the run. I kept telling myself, "Even if you do blow up, so what? What else do you have to do today, anyway?" But I still felt myself slowing down.

Towards the end, I caught one of the girls who had passed me early on. She was slowing down quite a bit, obviously suffering. Throughout the run, I'd told myself that all I needed to do was just keep contact with her, and I would be able to sprint by her at the end. Around the 2-mile marker, I realized I probably wouldn't have to sprint by her. I pulled along side her and we started chatting (in pants and gasps). She was cramping. It was her first race. She'd never felt anything like this before. I started to pull away from her on an uphill.

Then I felt a niggling little sting at the back of my ankle. Blister. Uh-oh. It came on suddenly and it came on hard. It was sharp. It was unbearable, actually. I thought back to when I was putting on Body Glide; it seemed at the time like I was forgetting some place very important, and I knew now what it was. I have these Zoot racing flats that I love. They're light and dashy looking and perfect for what I use them for. But if I don't put lube on the backs of my ankles, they cut the dickens out of them. And I'd forgotten. (Quick note: the back part of my shoe is all bloody from where it rubbed my ankle raw.)

Suddenly all the other pain in my body was magnified, and I had trouble concentrating. The girl I had recently passed was pacing off of me beautifully. I wanted to tell her good job, but I didn't have the energy anymore. At the next water stop, I slowed down to grab a drink, and that was my big tactical error. The other girl kept running at the same speed, and I never came close to her again; she was completely out of sight by the time I finished. She was 19, though, and I think she was carrying some adrenaline she hadn't used yet. Once she figured out she'd dropped me, I'm sure she took off like a rabbit.

After that, it was just a process of ignoring the blister on my Achilles and hanging on 'til the end. That long, steady uphill came at the end, and I got passed again. I tried for a second to run with her, but I just couldn't. My right rhomboid and glute medius were both in knots, and that blister was surprisingly annoying! I had just enough energy to summon an acceleration at the end. Nothing like a plane coming in for a landing, I'm afraid, but enough to get a few cheers from the crowd.

Still, bad as it hurt, and hard as I faded at the end, I'm pleased with my run. It's not as fast as I think I have in me (I'm going sub-24 next year, just wait), but considering how bad I tightened up on the bike and how hard I pushed with the wind and hills, I think 26-ish is respectable.

Total: 1:19:43, 2nd F 20-24, 6th overall
I was three minutes and three spots away from overall podium. One of these days I'm gonna get there, you know.

One little niggling thought that has stayed with me all day is how self-absorbed I am. I want to be one of those quality athletes who's always staying 'til the last person crosses the line, watching and clapping, everybody's cheerleader. That's not my personality to begin with, so it's unlikely. But I feel like I need to get outside of myself more. Be a little less self-involved, what with my race and my results and me me me all the time. I'm not sure how to do that. But I think that as I get to know more and more of the local athletes, it'll come more and more naturally.

I'm happy with this race. I'm happy with how I performed, especially considering my recent training. I'm happy that I'm getting to the place where I know people by sight (and they know me), where we can catch up with each others' lives at every race, where we're a community. I think it's growing in Wichita, and it's exciting to see. And it's a good reminder that speed (i.e. 19 MPH) is relative; the course and the way the day plays out are going to impact objective performance, and that's okay.

Also, I'm happy to have another medal to add to my personal shrine.

But I'm still not satisfied. I've had several second-place finishes, this year; I've had three top-tens. I'm ready to go for the top of the podium; I'm ready to be number one.

Checking In

Just a few notes . . .

First off, watch this. Moderately amusing. A pleasant way to spend a few minutes of your boring, boring day.

Second, check out Racevine.com. They're currently running a competition for race reports! I won something, and I never win anything. I really like this site. Gives me a chance to use my expensive English major. And I have high hopes for what it's going to become. So go check them out! Help them become!

Third, I totally had my ass handed to me in an actual group ride with actual cyclists. And I realized, as I was having my ass dropped for the umpteenth time, that I have never been on a group ride with cyclists; I've only been out with triathletes. And triathletes I can hang with. Awesome cyclists who are just cyclists? Not so much. Seriously. My ass. Handed to me. Give me a few weeks, though. I'll be owning those Wednesday night sprints after a while.

I'm racing Sunday. Look for the race report soon. Hoping for a good showing on this one, even though I'm past my prime. I think I'll do well.

Race Report: Clearwater Summer Scorcher 1 mile and 5k

My preparation for this race was not optimal.

It involved abnormally large quantities of beer (which for me is anything more than two drinks) and not much sleep.

Yesterday, I also (for some reason) felt it was a good idea to swim (which I haven't done in a week and a half), do a hard 30-minute spinning session, and take two different group classes--a yoga and a Pilates. Do not ask me why I thought this made sense. I was feeling fat and lazy and trying to overcompensate for it all. And besides (I told myself, when the sensible part of my brain tried to politely suggest that I am an idiot) swimming, spinning, yoga, and Pilates are all different things! They're not running! I'll be fine.

Clearwater is my home town, by the way. I spent my middle school and high school years in a district that routinely took top honors at the state cross country meet. I, of course, wasn't a part of that; the only sport I ever played in high school was football (my coaches asked if I had asthma, because I ran so slow and breathed so hard). So even though this was my first year at this race, I expected a fairly significant field of young, fast runners.

It's been a while since I've run a straight-up 5k; in fact, I can't remember the last time I've done one (have I ever done one?). The last mile I did was the Jingle Bell Run last year, and I did 7:49 there. So I was hoping to set PRs for both races, but obviously wasn't taking that goal too seriously, or I would have behaved differently yesterday.


The 1 mile started at 7:00 a.m. I was not feeling my best. I wasn't hung over, but my stomach was rumbling and squishing and generally making me uncomfortable. And I knew that I hadn't prepared adequately to run my best. Late nights, booze, and hard training do not make for fast legs. Add to that the fact that I haven't really been training (as a runner), and a PR does not look likely.

At the gun, I tried to go out fast but not too fast, and immediately wished I were somewhere else. The first thoughts in my mind were "I don't want to do a 5k later; I don't even want to do this." Fortunately, a mile is not very far. And each stretch we ran was only a couple blocks; having the run so broken up was helpful. I remember coming around the last turn onto the main road through town. I checked my watch, and it was just ticking over 6:00. I thought, "Holy cow! I could still come in under 7:00, I bet!" But I felt like I was running through Jell-o, and the last three blocks were longer than they looked. I crossed the line in 7:27, feeling awful, but happy with my new PR. I also got first place in my age group! A new trophy for the shrine!

During the mile, I felt generally miserable, and really didn't want to run the 5k. If it had been just me, I would have DNSed it and gone home. But my dad was running (just) the 5k, and there was no way I was going to bail on him. At about that point, I did decide to scrap the PR plans, and just run at my dad's pace, try to help him do really well.

We settled into a comfortable pace, although every time I looked at my heart rate monitor, I was surprised by the numbers that I saw. 166? Really? At a 10-minute-mile pace? About halfway through the 5k, I realized that the humidity was probably taking its toll on our bodies, jacking my heart rate way up and making me regret wearing a shirt. 

The last mile or so, my dad really started slowing down. The 5k course ends with a long (for Kansas) uphill, a similar downhill, and then one more block to the finish. We toiled up that hill, and at the top I said, "Hey Dad, you see that guy with his shorts bunched up between his fat little thighs? Well do you think you can catch him?" And with that, I took off down the hill, trying to get my pop to use his momentum to carry him past the fat dude. We did catch the fat guy, but had nothing left for a kick. I think that was another effect of the humidity.

We finished the 5k in 30:20. Afterwards, I sort of regretted not running as hard as I could. But on this day, in these conditions, I guess it was understandable (if not exactly commendable). I don't know what I might have done had I actually tried. But there will be other 5ks, there will be other PRs, there will be other opportunities to break 24:00. I can wait.

Even with the new PR, this race didn't feel particularly successful. My legs were dead in a way I haven't felt in a while--maybe since after my last half marathon. It's not so much that they hurt. And they were working well; my form was fine--probably better than usual. But my legs just didn't have the power and force I wanted to demand from them today. And the humidity was palpable. Only 65% or so, with a heat index around 80*. But it felt much worse than that, and I know that made a difference.

Still, 7:27 is the best I've ever run, and I'm starting to see that sub-7:00 performance within reach. On a good day, with proper training and preparation, I think I could run sub-7:00 . . . well, not exactly easily, but without going beyond the red-lining zone. And I'm sure I'll have that opportunity soon.

Race Report: Wichita Specs Criterium

You know, one of these days I'm going to do a crit with more than a couple of women and see how I really stack up . . .

But today was not that day. Today, there were 4 women in the Cat 3/4 field: myself, two other Specs riders (Shannon and Alicia), and a local, unattached, wicked-strong woman (Beth).

Because this was a small race and it was 3-on-1 and Beth is wicked crazy strong and we're not men, so the egos involved are considerably smaller, this was definitively a training race. For everyone except Beth, that is, although I suppose you could consider it coach training. Because she was definitely coaching us.

During the warm-up, Shannon, Alicia, and I discussed race strategy. Or rather, Shannon related what Beth had suggested that we do. May I just say that riding with teammates is a blast. I enjoy the aspect of team strategy and having a few partners to rely on.

Our strategy was to keep trying to attack, constantly making her chase one of us down so she couldn't rest. Hopefully, we would be able to keep her reeled in, then lead each other out in a group sprint to the finish.

The course was fairly mild, with only one truly sharp corner. The rest of the corners were either more curved, or the roads were wide enough that it didn't make sense to make a sharp turn. There was a little wind on the back stretch, which gradually shifted to the home straightaway. That meant that there was only one really ideal place to attack--that first sharp corner, although there's always opportunity to attack.

And attack we did. The first lap, everyone took it easy, Beth instructing us all the way. The second lap, I tried to go off the front. Beth caught me easily. We worked on pace-lining, protecting our strongest rider, keeping Beth from edging into our pace-line, blocking the draft by guttering another rider . . . feel like I learned a lot in this race.

We tried to keep attacking, but couldn't make anything stick. Mostly, I think that Alicia and I weren't strong enough and couldn't recover fast enough to keep attacking with the pace and ferocity we would have needed to break Beth down. But it was never discouraging. I never had that moment of "Oh shit! I suck at this!" that came at the Omnium.

Because I'm stronger now than I was then. I've been putting some more time in on my road bike. I've been hitting my spinning classes a little harder. I've been working on my handling skills. I've started lifting weights again (I still hate it, BTW). I'm a better cyclist than I was in May.


Anyway, I tried again to attack with something like 7 laps to go. Shannon countered after Beth pulled me back, and I couldn't keep up. Alicia and I fell off the back. We worked together brilliantly to pull back up (although they slowed down considerably to let us get back on, I think); Alicia did a lot of the work on that section, as I was still spent from giving it all in my last attack. By the time we were almost in contact with them, I had recovered sufficiently. I told Alicia that I was going to slingshot off her back wheel and try to attack again, try to surprise them. That attack didn't stick either, but it was my one truly tactical move. I'm actuallly pretty proud of it. Now if only I had the legs to back it up . . .


Beth accelerated with 5 laps to go and easily dropped us again. Shannon clung onto her back wheel and managed to stay with her 'til the final sprint. Alicia and I started working together to try to pull them back in, although by the time we were two laps from the finish, I was more concerned with not getting lapped. By the end, we were switching off beautifully--quick, 5-second pulls, getting lots of rest. On the last lap, we slowed our pace a little bit, and pulled up even. We discussed how we wanted to do the final sprint and decided to keep the short, even pulls (so we could both be as fresh as possible going into the last few 100 m) and then leave it to whoever had the stronger sprint. I felt like we were pretty evenly matched as far as strength, speed, and technique. I suspect that this kind of conversation never happens when men race. But I might be wrong.


About 200 m from the end, just a little before the last turn, I up-shifted and started turning my legs. I looked behind me when I first went, then just concentrated on putting my head down and giving it all I had. And I definitely gave it all I had! I came across the line feeling like I was going to puke. I don't know that I've ever hurt that bad from such a short interval, but I ended up beating Alicia by a little less than a bike length.



Looking back, I think I learned a lot about tactics. I didn't know about guttering, or really about blocking. I have no problem getting close and aggressive on a bike, but I don't know all the situations where I can use that to my advantage. I also thought a little bit about wind. If you try to attack into a headwind, the energy cost to you is much greater than if you attack in a crosswind, where a faster pace is going to hurt both cyclists equally. Of course, if you attack with a tailwind, you're unlikely even to get away. I still have a lot to learn.


But I did feel much stronger and much more capable in this race. I felt like I had more power (both in immediate bursts and in staying power) than I had in the last race. And I felt like I could contribute something to the team effort.


As far as how I stack up against other cyclists, I think this race gave a fair indication. My skill and power are both somewhere in the middle, maybe towards the lower 50%. Actually, just like when I started in triathlon. But I have no doubt that with a lot of hard work, I can work up to the top ten. Just like I did in triathlon.

Beginners' Guide: Race Day

 

Yep, that's me! Second-to-last person across the line.

At this point, many of you have already done your first race. It's well into the season, and if you haven't raced yet, you're running out of time! That said, there's always the next potential crazy coming up after us who needs to know "What do I do?!" with knees knocking and hands shaking. So here's a primer on things you should know before you confront the excitement and anxiety of your first race.

#1 What to Wear
A lot of the decisions you make in preparation for race day have to do with your primary target for race day--in this case, how do you want to feel? Many experienced triathletes will wear the same thing for the swim, bike, and run. They do this because it's time-consuming to change clothes in a transition area, and part of triathlon is to get in and out of transition zones as quickly as possible. If you want to participate in that part of the experience, plan on wearing one thing for the whole race. The most effective way to make that happen is to buy an outfit specifically designed for a race. You can expect to pay $50-$100 for a tri outfit. Alternatively, you can wear bike shorts and a skin-tight shirt.

If you're less concerned about a quick transition and would prefer to be comfortable, then you have a little more lee-way. Men, you can swim in nothing but bike shorts, but most races now require that you wear a shirt on the bike and run. Do not put a t-shirt (especially the race t-shirt) on for the bike and run! Choose a technical shirt that will breathe and wick away moisture. Women, wear bike shorts over your bathing suit, or wear bike shorts and a sports bra on top. Even if you wear just a bathing suit, put a sports bra under your suit unless you are very, very small-breasted. If you are not wearing at least a moderately supportive bra, you will regret it by the end of the run.

So men: bike shorts and a technical top. Women: bike shorts and bathing suit/sports bra.

#2 Equipment
This isn't really the place to discuss what equipment you need, or how much you should spend (or the bare minimum you can get away with). But you do need to know what to have at your first race. You can customize a checklist and print it off here, or you can just make your own checklist in the weeks leading up to your race. I have 4 sticky notes hanging on my wall by way of reminder: one for swim gear, one for run gear, one for bike gear, and one for everything else (i.e. things I need to bring if I'm traveling to a race). The basics are:

Swim: Goggles, swim cap (the one provided in your race packet, if applicable), swimsuit, wetsuit (if you're using one).
Bike: Bike and helmet; you're not racing without those. Bike shoes, if you have them. Tools, spare tube, and pump are all recommended. Socks and gloves are optional.
Run: Running shoes and your race number. Again, socks are optional. A hat or visor is a good idea.

# 3 Food
For this first race, don't go crazy in trying to fine-tune a carb-loading strategy; just focus on eating in a way that's worked for you leading up to big/long/key workouts in the past few months. Keep in mind that the things you eat for several days leading up to the race will impact the way you feel on race day. So be good the week before your race! And don't eat anything new or exciting the night before a race, especially if you've traveled to get there and are eating in an unfamiliar setting.

I had baked manicotti the night before my first race. You'd think that with all the cheese and spices and rich, heaviness of that dish, I would have had some kind of stomach problems that day. But that is close enough to what I eat normally that it didn't really affect me.

That said, everyone has different needs and will respond differently to foods. Some people are super sensitive to foods, and some people are walking, talking garbage bins. You need to figure that out before the day before your race, though. If it's too late for you to figure that out, just try not to do anything too unusual before you race tomorrow (and I know there will be at least a couple people who read this the day before their races).

So don't try anything new or fancy the day before your race!

#4 Day of
Know what time you need to be there! If your wave is the third or fifth (or twentieth) wave, you still need to be there at the beginning of the waves. Every race is a little different in how they handle staging. If you have questions about that, you should ask at the race meeting (if there is one) or ask a volunteer at packet pick-up.

Give yourself an hour or so to set up transition. There's no way you'll need a full hour to set up transition, but it'll make you feel better to have that padding of time. You can use the leftover time to go for a short jog to get warmed up and spend some time in the water to get used to it. If you see someone doing something new and you think, "Hey, maybe I should try that!" forget about it. Race day is not the time to experiment.

As far as setting up transition, you just need to find something that works for you. There are all kinds of tricks and tips that are supposed to get you in and out of transition quicker, but your concern need not be so much for speed; instead, you should focus on comfort. So--again!--find something that works for you.

Triathletes are usually pretty friendly, so go ahead and talk to the people around you. They're probably about as nervous as you are, and can help set your mind at ease.

So find what works for you and stick to it, the day of the race. Be at the race site with plenty of time to spare. Warm up, chit chat, and do what you can to put yourself at ease.

#5 The swim
You're going to freak out. That's it. Get used to it now. At some point in this swim, you are going to freak out. You'll panic. You won't be able to breathe. You will become suddenly incapable of putting your head down and swimming like you've practiced for the past several months.

If (when) that happens, flip over on your back or onto your side. Do a back stroke or a side stroke until you can settle down a little bit. Then try again to get into your freestyle. Don't be afraid to side stroke the whole swim, if you need to; I did in my first two races.

So don't be afraid to slow down and side/backstroke; remember that this is only the first part of your race, and you don't want to be exhausted already!

#6 Transitions
Again, just try to stay relaxed, stay comfortable. Slow down and breathe. Sit down, if you need to. People will be zooming by you on either side. Just remember that your race goals are different from their race goals, and in order for you to be successful, you need to stay relaxed and comfortable.

So slow down, do what you need to do, and stay in your comfort zone.

#7 Bike/run
These should be pretty self-explanatory. Try to save a little bit of energy when you're biking, then start slow and get faster on the run. In your second transition, keep your legs turning over at a good clip. Walk if you need to. Stop and get water at every aid station.

At some point--maybe on the bike, maybe on the run, maybe both--you're going to start hurting. A triathlon is not an easy thing. It will feel like the hardest thing you've ever done in your whole life. You will ask yourself why you signed up for this torture. You will never want to exercise every again. You will hate yourself for thinking you could do such a crazy thing.

But you know what? You are doing it. And all you have to do is get through those last few miles. And you've done a few miles in training, right? You can do a few more miles now. No matter how your brain tries to trick you into thinking you're too slow or too fat or too stupid or too lazy or too ill-prepared to do this, you are doing it. You can do it. And you will finish, even if you collapse right after you cross the line.

So try to pace yourself well on and then off the bike; take it easy at first and then hammer it home at the end. Above all, trust yourself! You can do it!

#8 Finish!
You've done all the work, and you've finished! Whether you're first or last, you have achieved your goal. Enjoy it!

Runner's High: No Big Deal

I can remember when a 10-mile run was a huge undertaking. Hell, I can remember my first 10k, which at the time was the farthest I'd ever run. Oh, and it was in my first-ever Olympic distance race (stupid, stupid, stupid).

Last Saturday, I headed out to Derby with one of the athletes I coach for a moderately-paced 10-miler. Weather was perfect, if a little humid: minimal wind, overcast, and cool. There's a surprising amount of elevation change in Derby, so the course I planned was pretty challenging.

And know what? It was no big deal. It was a 10-mile run, and it was no big deal. Which, when you're looking at training for an Ironman (and I'm not, by any means, saying that I am or will be any time soon), should be expected. Because 10 miles is really not that far.

On the other hand, 10 miles is HUGE! That's more distance at once than most people--even most everyday runners--will ever consider doing! And when I consider the fact that two years ago I had never run more than 6 miles at a time . . . that's pretty cool.

Okay, now that I've written that out, it really seems like not a big deal. I feel a little silly.

Silly, but still awesome. 

Race Report: Mudwater '09

I consider this race to be vindication for last weekend's missed opportunities. Could not have asked for better weather, better atmosphere, or a better performance from myself.

Pre-race

Since my parents missed church last week, I was on my own for this week's festivities. I prepped everything (including breakfast) solo, the house dark. The advantage? I got out at exactly the time I wanted to leave.

Breakfast was peanut butter and toast, by the way.

I got to the lake while it was still mostly dark, just as it should be. There were only a couple dozen people there (not including volunteers), at that point, so I had my pick of parking. Early arrival was a great advantage because there were no assigned rack spaces, so I got my pick of bike racks, too. I chose a spot that was farthest from the swim out, with a straight shot to the bike out.

I went through the normal pre-race rituals--packet pick-up, setting up transition, easy warm-up jog--and by the time I'd gotten through all that, transition was filling up. Mudwater is a great race for locals. There are a few competitors who come from Oklahoma or Missouri, but most live in or around Wichita. This race is in its third year, the field has been limited to 250 participants, and it is really becoming our race. Which is an amazing thing to behold.

First-timers represented about 40% of the field, between the tri and du, and two of those first-timers were my clients! I also met a reader (first time that's ever happened) who was doing her first tri; good work, Stacy (and did I spell that right?)! I cannot put into words my pride at convincing people to do this crazy sport. Always amazes me.

My own feelings leading up to the starting gun (a shotgun, by the way) were of excitement. No nervousness. The brooding energy that I had stored up for a week due to the inclement weather at last week's event was finally harnessed, concentrated. I felt wound up like a slinky at the top of the stairs; just tip me over and away I go!

Swim: 750 m, 14:23 (1:55/100 m); 13/51 F overall
Last year: 15:36
Weather could not have been better. Water temperature was 84 degrees, which is a little warm. But I had no problems with overheating. Last year, we had a beach start; this year, we started in the water. At the shotgun, I dove right in (I'd made sure I was deep enough that I wouldn't have to run or dolphin dive before I started swimming). I tried to surge, tried to get myself out of the anticipated mass of humanity. But after taking several strokes and turning my head to breathe, and beheld (to my amazement) a whole crowd of women who were walking (not running!) through the water. What the hell?! Dive, ladies, dive!

Needless to say, I had clear water for the first part of the swim. I was, however, able to jump on the heels of a few women who were just enough faster than me to be of benefit. I lost them once we caught up to the few stragglers from the wave before us. I felt fast and strong throughout the swim. I gave just enough energy to maximize my time in the water without spending too much energy and suffering later. I dolphin dove to the shore (pretty sure I'm the only one at this race who does that; when I was coming out there were still people walking in to the shallows) and sprinted up the slight incline to transition. In my mind, I was a famous ITU athlete, tall and athletic and strong.

T1: 47 sec; 3/51 F overall
Last year: 35 seconds

Bike: 25 km, 44:53 (20.8 MPH); 6/51 F overall
Last year: 20 km, 38:24 (19.4 MPH)
It wasn't until the beginning of last week that I realized the bike was 25k, not 20k, like I'd expected. But what difference does an extra 5 km make, right?

Coming out of the park was a blast; I sailed past a few of the men, scrambling to get my feet into my shoes. I took the sharp left-hand turn out of the park like a pro--butt to the side, low over the handle bars, upper body relaxed. Right out of the driveway, there's a slight hill (very slight; remember where we are, after all). I powered up it like it wasn't even there. About 5 km into the bike ride, another woman crept by me. As she passed me, I noticed the age on the back of her leg. 47. "No way!" I thought to myself. Not that I don't think a 47-year-old woman should be able to pass me; it's just that I wasn't going to let it happen on that day. I motored by her at the next downhill and spent the rest of the bike course keeping my foot on the figurative accelerator, just daring her to try to pass me again.

I wasn't passed by another woman the whole time.

Like I said before--the weather was perfect. On back side of the bike, we had a little bit of east wind, and I saw my speed drop significantly (no more average speeds in the mid-20s!). It was frustrating, and I was hurting a little bit. I definitely felt like I lost steam on the second half of the bike. I spent a lot of time worrying that I was putting too much into my second leg, and wouldn't have enough energy left to have the kind of run I knew I could put in this year. My calves and hamstrings were tight and cranky, and I've discovered that the bike is both my strength and my weakness--I can put a lot of time into the competition when on two wheels, but I sometimes push too hard and pay the price on the run.

Turning back into the park (a little less than a mile from T2), I dropped gears and started spinning my legs out. Got my feet out of my shoes and had some of the men pass me, but knew that I would re-gain that time in transition.

T2: 30 sec; 6/51 F overall
Last year: 49 sec
Nailed the flying dismount like a pro, but then had so much speed that I overshot my rack space by a few feet and had to run back towards it. Still, pretty damn fast, don't you think?

Run: 5 km, 26:24 (8:29/mile); 22/51 F overall
Last year: 31:05
This was the highlight of the race. Not because I'm super fast, mind you; this is my weakest leg, relative to the rest of the women's field. But because it's just so much better than last year. That's a minute and a half faster per mile than what I was doing last year. I am totally happy with and excited about the progress I've made this year in the run. My biking and swimming times are better, but not that much better than last year's. But my run? My run has improved in leaps and bounds.

My one point of contention with myself came in the last quarter mile or so. I was within sight of the finish line, and a big clydesdale came clomping past me. He works out at my gym; I see him around all the time. He was at IMKS. He was running just a little bit faster than me. I tucked in behind him, his huge frame in the foreground, the finish line behind. I stayed with him for maybe 50 yards, and then he started to pull away. And I decided that it hurt too bad, he was too fast, and I let him go.

I shouldn't have let him go. I could have kept that speed for another 300-400 m. I could do anything for another 300-400 m. It's only a few minutes in time. I can suffer for a few minutes in time. So looking back, that's my one disappointment. I should have followed him in to the finish instead of letting him go.

But other than that, I thought I was very willing and able to accept the pain that should come in a sprint tri. I determined early in the bike that I would go to that place of intensity and focus, and felt like I was actually able to do it this time.

The best part, as always, is the last few yards before the finish. I come closer and closer, the crowd getting nearer and the end within reach; I always think, "I'm not going to be able to do it, this time; I don't have enough left for a strong kick." And every time, usually in the last 20-40 meters, I find that I do have enough left. The exhaustion of all the miles leading up to that point falls away, and I find myself capable of anything.

I love that feeling.

Final: 1:26:58
Last year: 1:26:31 (with 5 km less on the bike)
Two years ago, I was looking at the results from Shawnee Mission and trying to decide how well I could realistically do, if I were able to achieve what I considered to be my potential. I looked at times from previous finishers. I looked at the overall. I looked at the age groups. And I decided that if I could swim at a 2:00/100 m pace (which I knew I could) and bike at 20 MPH (which I was sure I could) and work my way down to an 8:30/mile pace on the run (which I thought was possible) . . .

I could potentially work my way in to the top ten overall women.

Take a look at the times above, and then check it out.

2nd place F 20-24 (of 6, minus Bridget Ballard, the overall women's winner)
7th F overall (out of 51, not including the duathlon babes)

So there you have it. It didn't happen at Shawnee Mission (which, admittedly, is a much more competitive race than Wichita's favorite tri), but who's to say that I couldn't have done similarly well on that course on that day? I think I have it in me.

Of course I have my sights set lower, now. Because theoretically, I'm sure I could swim a 1:45/100. And bike 22 MPH. And run sub-8:00 . . .

Losing Momentum

I can't seem to get excited about this weekend's race.

I'm not excited about training or about getting gear together. There is no fire under my ass to beat last year's time, or to set a PR, or even to do well.

The Shawnee Mission race was supposed to be part of a very planned, very deliberate peak. And it didn't happen. And now my whole peak is messed up.

That's all, though; the race was canceled, sometimes that happens, and it's over. I'm not upset about it. I'm not too down about it. I just know, on some level, that my season is pretty much over because of it.

Oh, I've still got a couple races on the schedule. This weekend is Mudwater, our very own local race in the muddy, mutant-catfish-infested waters of Lake Afton. I'm planning to do the Derby Rock 'n' Route sprint in August, which will give me an end-of-season benchmark relative to Emporia (it's the same distance, although not the same course). And I'm registered for the Redman sprint, hoping to win some team points for USAT team nationals. And I'm wanting to do an Ultramax 50 in Paola with my tri partner in crime (Shawnee Mission was supposed to be our race!).

But the hardcore training that is specifically directed towards a racing peak is done, now. Main season is over. The races from here on out are just for fun. Which isn't to say that I won't try hard or do well or even place/win. But I'm not going to be focusing all of my training on it.

That said, I will still be training, but I'm shifting my focus. The cyclocross season is coming up quick, and I want to kick some serious ass this year! So I'm hoping to get in a lot more miles on the bike, go back to base-building, and work on getting the power in my legs that I didn't seem to have in my first attempt at bike racing. I'm relegating swimming and cycling to the realms of crosstraining (along with DDR--at which I'm a rock star--and tennis, which is a good way for me to completely humiliate myself in public). I'd like to do another half-marathon this fall, but I haven't really looked at any races seriously.

Anyway, that's what I'm up to. The Shawnee Mission debacle siphoned my momentum, but I'm okay with it. Time for something new. What has everyone else been doing?

Race Report: Shawnee Mission '09

I experienced something at this race that I've never experienced before.

Cancelation.

Yes, Shawnee Mission was completely and decidedly rained out. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. There was thunder and lightning that made me regret being outside, and this is coming from a Kansan who has experienced lightning and thunder and softball sized hail and tornado threats and snow gales the likes of which most coastal Americans will never see. And I'm not really interested in risking my life to do a race, even if it is one of the most highly-anticipated races on my schedule. The cancelation was a good call.

But it sure sucks.

And the worst part is that this is totally a momentum buster, season-wise. I was supposed to have two peak weekends, back to back. Now I only have one. Bummer.

Pre-Race: Shawnee Mission '09

I haven't been very good about updating lately, have I? My apologies. Haven't felt up to writing, I guess. Not that I'm too busy, really . . . just have nothing to say.

Coming up on my fourth running of the Shawnee Mission Triathlon. It was the first race I ever did (and finished next-to-last), and so it's a special time in my race schedule, every year. I don't have concrete goals for this race, except that I want to be faster than last year. I have expectations: I expect that I'll be able to beat my swim, bike, and run times from last year. I expect that I'll have a better sense of how much energy to reserve for the run; I expect that I'll move up in the rankings, this year.

But the most important expectation is that I will enjoy myself more. Last year, about this time, I was starting to get really, really burnt out. I've guarded myself pretty well against that this time, I think. I've learned lessons from the last few years that have made this season go so much smoother--I think the most important one was having a "big-deal" kind of race, then taking a little time off immediately after to mentally recharge and refocus. That time off after IM KS has really made a difference in my training, this past month. I feel like I've been able to sharpen myself, and have held onto that objective in almost every workout. It's enabled me to have more of a sense of purpose.

This time last year, I wrote time goals for myself. But for now I'll just write the previous times I posted on this course and tell you that this year I will be much, much faster.

Swim: 1000 m in 22:29 (2:14/100 m)

Bike: 18 mi in 1:00:14 (18 MPH)

Run: 4.5 mi in 46:44 (10:23/mi)

Total: 2:12:12 (28/58, 2nd F 20-24)

I'm excited; I think I can do well. I look forward to giving a good report.

Race Report: Derby Firecracker 4 Mile

For the first time ever, I placed at a running race.

The Derby Firecracker run is an old race; this year was its 28th iteration. The field is varied, with fewer than normal bigshots (prize money is only $25, and the food is better at some of the other local races this weekend), more than the normal amount of high school cross country runners, and a whole bunch of regular joes (and janes). Lining up around the start, I recognized very few people. You know how you get used to seeing certain regulars at every race? They weren't at this one. It was sort of disconcerting, like racing in a different city. Which I technically was, I suppose; Derby and Wichita are close, but they're definitely distinct entities (for now).

Morning dawned cool and cloudy, with the sun fighting to break through a bank of clouds rolling in from the south. Wichita was probably in the clear, but Derby is as far south as Clearwater, almost, so I figured we'd be dealing with some weather. It started sprinkling on us on the drive over, and by the time everyone was lined up for the start, we had a gentle downpour. But it was a soft, pleasant rain, and it was by far preferable to the 100* temperatures we've had the past two weeks.

The gun went off about 5 minutes late, and the field began its gentle surge forward. I was running with my iPod, but more as a stopwatch than for the music (I sent my Polar in yesterday to have it serviced, so I've been running without chrono or heart rate). But (silly me) I started the music playing without prepping the stopwatch. So I crossed the start line with iPod in hand, trying to start the timer function and looking (I'm sure) like an absolute tool. I hate it when I look like one of *those* runners--you know, the ones who can't do anything without headphones in their ears.

My dad was with me for this race (I bought him the entry as a Fathers' Day gift, because the race shirt was cool), and we started together. But it didn't take me long to jackrabbit away from him, dodging in and out of slower runners and looking for open ground. For some reason, I always seem to start races right in front of one big pack but right behind the other one. It's like I'm right in between two different levels of runners. Don't care much, if it means I get to run free from elbows and the clomping of other runners' feet.

The course carried us out of High Park (ground zero for the race), up and down a couple of short, gentle hills (in Kansas, these are mountains, you know), and out onto the main roads. The course had a surprising number of ups and downs, all of them long and gentle. At one point. the ground had been dug up in preparation for a driveway, but the race directors did tell us that the sidewalk was out before the race, so we were all expecting it. Shoes got a little bit muddy is all.

Hit the first mile marker in 7:56, according to my iPod, although I figure I can add about 15 seconds to that. My race plan was to hold back a little on the first mile, then open it up for the last three. Usually, in 4 mile races, I find myself wishing it were a 5k at around the 3 mile mark. Figured if I didn't really start racing until mile 1, maybe I could stave that off. When I looked at my split, I was a little wary. But I kicked it up another gear anyway. By this time, it had stopped raining, I had just turned out of the wind, and I was running on a slight uphill. I started to feel a little bit too warm.

At mile 2, there was water. I grabbed a cup without slowing down and sloshed as much of it as I could into my mouth. More of it went on my body than in my body, but I was already wet, so it didn't matter much. I was starting to pull back other runners, one by one, and feeling really good about the pace I set. Hit the 2 mile marker in 7:18, although I didn't check it at the time.

Mile 3 took forever. It wound through a couple of subdivisions, twisting and turning through streets and past cul-de-sacs. I kept turning corners, thinking I'd surely see the mile 3 marker around the next bend. I started to suspect that the course was mismeasured, and mile 3 was extra long. About this time, a big guy--tall and stacked--and I were trading places. I passed him, he passed me. I tucked in behind him to let him block the wind (we were actually running fast enough that I could tell a difference drafting off of him!), and he moved to the side to let me pass. We had a brief conversation about how he made a much better wind block than I did (poor guy was a good foot taller than me). He was hurting, and finally dropped back for good. About the same time, I ran up on a girl who's shirt said "Obsessed: a word lazy people use to describe the dedicated." She was running at a good clip, and it took quite a bit of effort to pass her, but I did. About that time, a good song ("Perfect Situation," by Weezer) came on, and I picked up my cadence a bit and dropped her. Finally passed the 3 mile marker in 9:37. Yeah, I really think the course was mismarked.

Mile 4 hurt physically, but was a cinch in my head. I just told myself, "I can do anything for one more mile," and got 'er done. I passed two thirty-somethings in running skirts (the same kind of uber-fit-but-not-particularly-competitive women who frequent my cycling classes) and made it my goal not to let them pass me. Whenever I heard their footsteps (and chatter) coming up behind me, I picked up my pace.

The "Obsessed" girl re-passed me, but she was fading, and I saw that I could catch her if I wanted to. At this point, we were back in High Park and climbing the final hill; after cresting that ridge, it was a 200 m downhill to the finish line. I surged slightly and drew up even with her as we topped the slope. "C'mon," I said, "it's all downhill from here. You've got enough for one more surge, don't you?" And I started picking it up. She said, "I don't know. I'm spent!" but she kept pace with me, step for step. I pushed her a little more, and she responded. "I'm gonna puke!" she said. "No you're not!" I replied. "Not until you get across that line! You're a strong runner! Finish strong!" And with that we crossed the finish line, her right in front of me.

Coming through the bevy of volunteers at the finish line, I felt energized. I'd seen the clock at the finish line--33 minutes, it said. My goal for this race was 34 minutes (8:30 pace), and I'd done a step better. The "Obsessed" girl high-fived me and thanked me for the encouragement; that felt great. As I exited the finish area, I passed a table where a volunteer said, "All women, stop and see me!" She asked my age group. I said, "20 to 24." And she handed me a silver medal! My first ever medal (not including finishers' medals) at a running event!

I headed back up the road to watch for my dad coming over that final hill. About 5 minutes later, I saw him, and fell into step with him. "It's all downhill from here," I told him. "How about a little push to the end?" He started striding out, taking advantage of the downhill and matching my pace as I accelerated. He crossed in 42:21 (unofficial), feeling tired but having thoroughly enjoyed his Fathers' Day gift. We munched on watermelon, oranges, and cookies. The Derby Runners' Club makes great cookies; they're famous for them. That is apparently the highlight of the Derby Not for Wimps 10-miler.

This race was a ton of fun. Besides the fact that I placed (!), it has a friendly, local feel. There's not the super-competitive atmosphere that I've experienced at some other local races (Easter Sun Run), nor is it overly laid-back, with a bunch of children, walkers, and stroller-pushing parents (Wichita Turkey Trot). The field is good-sized without being too big. The course is interesting, challening, and unique for this area because of the moderate hilliness.

Oh, and did I mention that I got second place in my age group?!