When it's Time to Change

you've got to re-arrange. 

Sha-na-na na na na na... na na na na naaaaaaaaa. 

I'm feeling it. It's time for a new DYE JOB! 

You may remember that I mentioned that I have had many a different shades of haircolor in my years on this planet. I have an appointment this weekend with Martha, my fabulous stylist who I've been seeing for years now. I think I'm going to keep it long, dye it a darker brown without any red in it, and add a blond streak to the front. Maybe something like this: The hub. will groan, of course, like he usually does when I do something different with my hair. He especially dislikes it when it looks fake. In my mind the point isn't to look natural, though. Snorefest. The goal is to doing something fun and fake, because soon I will be wrinkly and hunched over, and what fun is it to have dark hair with a blond streak then? Can you say AGE CRISIS??? 

I've been in one for a year now, ever since I stopped nursing my youngest little cub. I feel like I'm on top of the hill looking down, and soon I will start skidding down uncontrollably until I hit, well-- the grave. Okay. A little morbid. On that note, I will bring up the other thing my husband hates me to talk or think about it: getting a tattoo. I want one. I plan to get one. Why not? When you're married to a guy you know you want to be with forever and so you'll never scam again and you know you aren't having more kids, and you know that you're just getting older every day, why the hell not? What's stopping me? Propriety? Image? Who cares? I've got nothing to lose. The hub. points out that our kids as teenagers will likely not want a mom with crazy hair and a tattoo, but really, my kids as teenagers likely will not like anything about me, right? So what does it matter? The question is--what kind of tattoo? Well an M-Dot, of course! (**note: I mean only after I actually complete an Ironman. That won't be for another year or so...) Here's the hub's objection to the M-Dot. It's a logo. It's a company logo. It's a company that makes money. Do I want to be an advertisment for Ironman? My feeling is that everyone in the know KNOWS what an M-Dot means, so does it matter that it's a corporate logo? And if I didn't get an M-Dot, what should I get? And where? 

 I'm interested in all thoughts. I know some of you have an M-Dot tattoo, and some (many) of you have completed an Ironman or two or three and did not get one and never would.

Spendthrift

I love the Felt. But it's going to take getting used to. I was way more spread out on the road bike. The aerobars were pleasantly far away, and it was comfortable. With the Felt I feel all bunched up. My knees are really close to the aerobars when I pedal. It's strange. Also, I need to break in the new seat. Also, I'm chafing in all sorts of new ways. 

 But I still love the Black. She's just so hot! In other news, I continue to SPEND. I just got a new pair of racing shoes. I had an old pair of Adidas--can't remember the name--and they are just about kicked. I raced in them for over 250 miles! It sort of amazes me that I raced that many miles in just the last few years. My new shoes are the ASICS Speedstar. I like them. I race in a couple of weeks, so they will be put to the test then. They aren't exactly flats--there's more to them than that--but they still only weigh a little over 7 oz. Pretty good! I also just got a Computrainer, although it hasn't arrived yet. I'm pumped! 

My husband really spearheaded that effort because he's taking a class with DeDe Greisbauer at Fast Splits. They use the computrainers and she (DeDe) uses their power thresholds to prescribe their workouts. He scouted out EBay for several weeks, and made a move yesterday. Yeah! Of course, we will probably end up bankrupt.... This extravagant spending spree must come to an end- _________________________ 

Yesterday I was a bad. I know you, the tri blogger community, will understand what I mean by this. I didn't skip a workout. That's not bad in my book; it's maddening. Usually it occurs as a result of life getting so in the way that the workout must be rescheduled or canned all together, which gets me infuriated and righteous and basically unbearable to be around. No. Yesterday I didn't skip the workout. I just did it way, way too hard. As you all know because I complain about it unceasingly, I am supposed to do all of my workouts right now in zone 1--which is to say they are to be done at a steady, but relatively easy pace. 

Yesterday I was supposed to run a bit over an hour. I picked out one of my favorite 8 mile loops and headed out. It was a GORGEOUS day: sunny, bright, cold, but not too cold. I was jamming to my 80's tunes, fresh with a few new good ones like I Love Rock and Roll by Joan Jett. Love her! Anyway, I just got fired up. I started pounding. I knew I was out of zone 1, actually out of zone 2, but I just didn't care. I felt awesome and strong and with each new song I thought, Fuck it! Run on! So today I'm a little bit sore. Or maybe alotta bit sore. My swim this morning was actually fine. I'm having fun working on the barrel thing. However, I also had to run after school (work). Well, actually, my bad again. I had to reschedule a (this coming) Wed run for today because I have a meeting after work on Wednesday. So I went out for another seven today. I was really, really, really tired on this run. I was so tired I had trouble getting my heart rate up, which is really unusual for me during a run. Oops. Anyway. Every once in awhile you need to do that, right? right? right? Can I hear you out there? My coach, Cait, kicked serious, serious ass this weekend at the Hyannis Half Marathon. She won it for women in 6:10 pace. That's 1:20, folks! Sick! Her boyfriend, (remember Tim --from "Hi, I'm Tim?") came in third in 5:39 pace, Jesse Kropelnicki (Coach Jesse-founder of QT2, my coaching group/team) was sixth in 5:53 pace and his wife, Chrissie, went under 1:34 in 7:10 pace. I'm so impressed and so proud of my team!

Over the Barrel

Today I went to Fast Splits for a swim analysis session with my coach. I've been convinced that there are great things to be changed about my stroke; things that when corrected will make me super, super fast.

I got to Fast Splits and walked in. Two men were talking at the desk, one of whom I know but don't know (as in I don't know his name, just that he works there) and the other I immediately recognized as Tim Snow, Cait's boyfriend. Tim is a pro triathlete in the area, and I've seen him compete, so naturally, I know who he is. Naturally he does NOT know who I am. Introdcutions were in order.

So I stuck at my hand and said enthusiastically, "Hi! I'm Tim!"

Moment of silence. "I mean, oops. You're Tim. Hi, I'm, I'm, I'm, Mary."

What I should have said is I AM SUCH A LOSER.

There was really no way to recover. I just looked like such a tool. Argh.

Anyway. He told me Cait was in the next room, and I slinked away.

I've seen Cait race, but we haven't met before. Actually, that's not true. I met her at a race last year, but again, she's locally famous, and I'm a tool, so I know her and she doesn't' know me.
This time I got it right and actually introduced myself like a normal human being.
She's very pretty.
She's very young.
She's very strong and thin.

Okay. Onward.
I got changed and came out to the little Endless pool thing. I've never been in one, and honestly, I was a little nervous. What if Cait put on the force field too strong and I blasted into the back of the pool while trying to swim? I'm not sure I could take another moment of total embarrassment.

Embarrassment. right. So I started to put my cap on, and got half of my hair up when Dave, the owner of the store and an old friend, walked in. I haven't seen the guy for like six years. He's the X of one of my best friends, and when they split we didn't keep in touch. I like him, and I wish we had, but it was one of those things... You know how splits go. We were couple friends. Then we weren't. Now both he and my friend are married with kids. Time has passed. It's all cool.

Anyway, after not seeing him for eons, I saw him while dressed only in a bathing suit, while putting my hair in a cap, while all pasty and wintry white, with no makeup, and shivering from the cool air in the store. Nice. LOSER again.

He gave me a hug and we exchanged niceties, and he was very sweet about not mentioning that I was half naked and a little scary with my hair only half in my cap.

Then I got in the pool.
With Tim, Cait and Dave watching, I got in.

Silently I prayed-
Dear God do not let me make an ass of myself any more than I already have.

Cait turned on the power thing, and it was like the strongest jacuzzi jet you've ever felt. I began to swim, and it wasn't so bad! A bit hard to breathe with all of those bubbles blasting at you, but basically okay. There was a mirror on the bottom of the pool, which was fascinating. It was so fascinating that I kept forgetting to breathe because I was so busy looking at myself and thinking, "Cool! That's how it looks when I blow out my nose! Cool! I'm really rotating! Cool! That's me! Look! That's me!"

The good news (or bad news, depending on how you look at it--very bad stroke means room for major improvement which means more speed potential relative to where I am now etc. etc.) is that they convinced me that my stroke is good and it just needs to be "tweaked." That said, they found several things for me to work on.

Apparently I have good balance and rotation, but I over-rotate when I breathe. Also, I don't breathe enough. (I didn't want to explain that it was really my self-fascination that was causing me not to breathe, but whatever.) My kick is fine, my hips are up, my stroke is even. The one thing that is really wrong is that when I put my hand in the water after recovery I let my elbow drop. I have to keep my elbow up, like I'm lifting it up and around a barrel.

They had me do a bunch of drills to try to get me to do this, but I guess my whole dropping the elbow thing is pretty ingrained, because I didn't really get it before our session was over.
I see this as a good thing, in a way, because it gives me something to really work on in the pool.
I'm little and I'm short. Little, short people can't swim as fast as bigger, longer people. I need all the stroke perfection I can get.

Swim on.

My B12 Shot : Performance Enhancement at its Best

Meet the Black Stallion. She's a 2008 Felt B12. She's my shot in the ass. 

The Black and I met this weekend at Fast Splits. It was love at first sight. Andy and I stopped at Fast Splits just to look. (of course.) We had just dropped off the kids at the grandparents so we could get a day and a night away. We were feeling pretty good. The day was before us, we were staying at the Westin in town, and we had nothing on the agenda except for eating and sleeping. 

When we walked into Fast Splits I saw her immediately. We pulled her off the rack and looked at her tenderly. She's so small she looks like she could be made for a child. I've wanted a tri-bike for exactly this reason. Road bikes are never made with 650 c. wheels; only the tri-bikes can be. When you are only 5'2", having a road bike is therefore problematic. I currently have a 47 cm Cannondale R700 road bike with 700c wheels, and she's not really easy for me to handle because of her wheel size. The Black is 46 cm, and has the smaller tires. I anticipate being able to handle her better. Plus, together I know we will be blazing fast. She's all carbon fiber. She's got fantastic components. She's very beautiful. I have even saddled her up with a new Butterfly seat. I get to take her home on Saturday after a fitting. I'm one happy girl. __________________ 

 Our night away was awesome. I didn't realize how much I needed sleep until this weekend. We went to bed at 8:30 on Friday night and slept until 8:00 the next morning. The kids got up a 6, of course, so we feel lucky that the house wasn't burned down when we finally woke. I got up, shoveled in some breakfast and rode Little Red 70 minutes on the trainer. It was a very groggy 70 minutes. We showered, packed up the kids and the dogs, and soon, we were temporarily free! 

 I need not say I love my babies, but you know, when you have three of them you just don't get away that much... We didn't buy the Black on Saturday. We thought it best to "think" about it. Well, Andy thought it best. I would've bought her right then had I had my way. Anyway, after Fast Splits we drove into town, did a little window shopping at furniture stores, checked in, went to our room and TOOK A NAP. That's right. After sleeping nearly 12 hours the night before, I wanted a nap. I was still queasy. (Okay, really I am STILL queasy--it's the sickness that will never go away--and no, I'm not pregnant. absolutely positive.) 

After our nap we went to dinner at a little restaurant down the street. I had swordfish and wine. Very tasty. It would've been even more tasty if I had felt 100% better. We then went to the hotel bar, had another drink, and then... etc. :) We were asleep by 11 and didn't get up until 8:30. I know you young ones sans kids out there are thinking we are super lame, and we are, but all of those with a few rugrats at home know what I'm talking about! Sleep, baby! It's better than a night on the town! Sunday morning we went to the gym in the hotel, ran for a little over an hour, had a HUGE brunch, and then WENT BACK TO BED for another nap! 

On the way home I convinced Andy that the Black needed to be purchased that minute. I was beginning to fear someone else might take her home. I know that there is more than one Felt B12 in the world, but she was MINE, you see. She had to be mine. So we went back to Fast Splits. And I test rode her. And we got her. And now she's all mine. Can you believe it? Now if I could just get rid of this lingering nausea...

 The benefit of being sick to your stomach for over a week is that although I have not confirmed this, I think I've taken off a few pounds. I imagine this will be temporary, because my body really likes to be a very specific weight, and she always kind of GOES there. You know? But it's nice for today. 

I got on the trainer for 2.5 hours this morning. I was supposed to do that workout on Saturday, but it didn't figure into the whole weekend plan. My kids played at the foot of the bike while I rode endlessly, and kept bugging me to try the Nano. It's 2:45 p.m. and my son is still in his Cars pajamas! I love holidays. Hope yours was good too.

Out of Commission!

I've been sick all week. On Sat. I was feverish and throwing up, but on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I was just feverish and had a horrible sore throat. On Thursday the throat finally got better, but I became queasy again. For the last two days I really haven't been eating and I have wanted to sleep all day. Nevertheless I haven't missed a workout (go me!) and I didn't take time off from work. This is good in some respects--. I'm pretty tough about soldiering on when I am sick, mostly because when you are a working mother you just learn to deal. You often have to take days off from work because your children are sick, and you never want to WASTE a day being sick yourself, so you just suck it up and go. Teaching is not a great profession to have when you're sick, though. You can't hide. You can't put your head on your desk and rest. You must be in front of the class, and you must perform. Really teaching is a bit like acting on stage. You must take on a certain role and stick to it. If you don't, there are consequences. Perhaps this is just true of middle school teaching, but somehow I doubt it. Kids need to know you care about them and they respond to you if you are warm and enthusiastic. However, they are also savvy and demanding: if you are inconsistent or appear to lack total and complete control, they will eat you alive. In short, it was a tough week in the old classroom, made more difficult by the fact that I really didn't want to miss any scheduled workouts. I had doubles this whole week. They were short workouts for the most part, but like the kids, they were relentless. My swim workouts seemed to suffer the most. I just had no gas in the pool and the nausea doesn't seem to abate when swimming like it does with running and biking. The only good thing about being sick is that I think I may have taken off a little weight! Anyway... It's Friday afternoon, the kids (MY kids) are eating popcorn and watching a Aladdin, and I am thanking God that next week is vacation. _____________________________ In other news, last week I was tagged by AtlantaMom. Here goes! Seven Random or Weird Things about Me: 1. My hair has been most colors of the rainbow. I've been a blond, I've tried brown (current), black, fire engine red, black and blond in chunks, auburn, and purple. When I began teaching at 23, so long ago, my hair was purple. The kids loved that. I think my real hair color is mouse brown, but I haven't actually had my natural hair color visible since I was 13. 2. Before I was a runner or triathlete, I was a dancer. As a girl I danced with The Maine Ballet Co. in the corp. As an adult I became a really good Lindy Hopper. I even did crazy things like go to Lindy Hop camp! 3. I am addicted to peanut butter. I put it on everything, even pancakes. 4. When I was an eighteen-year old, after I stopped dancing, I weighed 30 pounds more than I weigh today. 5. When I was a young girl I was an angel--a teacher's pet--a goody-two shoes. When I turned fifteen something went terribly awry, and I became a total rebel. I did a lot of really stupid things for a number of years. I feel so lucky when I think back that my friends didn't desert me, I still managed to do okay in school, that I didn't get pregnant and that I didn't die of a drug or alcohol overdose. Them were scary times.... 6. I love all things made for adolescents: movies, music, and especially BOOKS. I am the lone adult scoping out the YA (young adult) section of the library and taking out all of their novels. (Guess it makes sense that I spent time as a middle school librarian and that I'm a middle school English, teacher...) 7. I was so terrified when I was taken into have an emergency c-section with my first child that I couldn't stop crying and shaking. I held the anesthesiologist's hand so tight that I bruised him. Meanwhile, my husband was fascinated with the surgery, and kept saying, "Wow! that's so cool. Mary, you should look at all of the yellow stuff in there. I think it's fat!" It was very special. I remember after it was over and we were talking, I asked him why the nursing staff kept counting during the surgery. He told me it was because they had to count the many, many surgical towels they used to sop up the blood: they feared they would leave one inside when I was sewed up. Pleasant, huh? C-Sections 2 and 3 were scary too, but not like the first. On that note, I'll tag a few more bloggers! 1. Ange: Ange's Drive to Tri 2. The Lazy Triathlete 3. Tri Guy J.T. 4. Michelle 5. D.C. Rainmaker 6. Locked and Loaded 7. Who in their right mind... Here are the rules: The rules are as follows: # Link to the person who tagged you # Post the rules on your blog. # Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog. # Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. # Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged. Signing off.

Snacks, the Dogs, and Nutrition

I packed better snacks today.
I gave up my good intentions as soon as I got home (see last post) and had access to food that actually satiates hunger.
Just so you know, though, when I was discussing my snacks yesterday I meant that they were exactly that, snacks. Some people asked me if that was all I ate at work for the whole day. I was like, Are you kidding me? That doesn't include breakfast or lunch! No way could I go all day just on raw veggies and cottage cheese! That's like scary and insane. No, my friends, I'm just talking SNACKS. Anyway.

I'm not working out this week, as I mentioned in my last post, and as a result I'm feeling punchy, out-of-control, and irritable. I really have nothing interesting to say. I felt like posting anyway.

I'm gonna tell you about my dogs.
They are old. They are smelly.

Linus is the yellow one. His breath could kill you. I'm not lying. He opens his mouth, and you could be like on the other side of the room and you have to ask, Did someone just fart? You start accusing everyone, and then you realize it's just Linus's breath. His teeth are rotting inside his mouth. That's the problem.

Linus is also completely deaf. He hasn't always been deaf. It's a recent development that has to do with his being ancient and the fact that there is so much brown shit in his ears that you can't dig it out. It's kind of neat. You can shout right into his face and he doesn't even blink. Speaking of not blinking, Linus can beat all humans and dogs in staring contests. It's actually quite creepy. He stares -- a lot. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night, turn over, and he'll be sitting there, just staring at me. I think he might be losing his marbles.

Minna is the chocolate one. She is a royal P.I.T.A. When we let her into our fenced yard she becomes Houdini and escapes--every time. We think she might be magic as well as a P.I.T.A. We can never figure out how she actually gets out. Another way in which she is P.I.T.A. is that she steals the kids' food. She has no mercy. If you leave the kitchen for a minute the food will be gone. She also has a really unattractive wart on her head that is growing larger everyday. It's really nasty. Despite all this we still love her. She's very affectionate when she's not being a P.I.T.A. and she's quite a handsome lab if you aren't skeeved by her wart.

Linus is almost 12 now. Minna will be 10 this June. They were my first babies. They were my first running partners. It will be very hard for me when they are gone.

--------------------
Okay. Enough about dogs.
Back to food. I could do nutritional counseling with Jesse. If I do, however, I might have to give up things like the sausage, egg and cheese on an English, or the cup of sugar I have in my coffee each morning, or the Guiness I treat myself to-- well, a lot. That would be no fun. But is my current "body composition" and my eating habits having a negative effect on my training and racing? That is the question. Is it worth the sacrifice? I'd be interested to hear all input. Who out there is trying nutritionally and seeing benefit? Who is trying and feeling no benefit? Who thinks when you start obsessing about food you've gone too far? (me.)

Just curious.

Very Grumpy

I am at work. I should be working. But I just want to say this: I don't want to work. I

 don't want to work because I am grumpy. 

 These are the reasons I am grumpy: 

1. I have lame snacks today. Lame! Usually I bring a variety of sancks, most of which are pretty good for me, but which also make me happy, like trail mix with chocolate chips mixed in, or fruit yogurt with lots of sugar, or a Luna bar. But yesterday I decided that I need to start being better about my eating. First of all, I'm still carrying a little extra around my belly. I notice this mostly when I put on biking shorts. Biking shorts are so, so very unflattering because of the muffin top factor. I need to get rid of my small but lurking muffin top. So, today I packed an apple, carrots, raw cauliflower, cottage cheese and a Pria Bar, which I told myself I'm not allowed to eat until this afternoon's snack. I have eaten the apple, the carrots, the cauliflower and the cottage cheese. OH MY GOD. I am STARVING. I feel like I'm going to swoon for lack of energy and food. 

 2. I'm supposed to be taking a week "off" according to my training plan. Yesterday I did run slowly for 20 minutes and this morning I went to the pool and did 30 minutes of slow swimming and drills, but I am basically going sans working out this week. I hate not working out. I feel lost and out of control. I think I may have a problem. This makes me grumpy, too. 

3. It's gray and rainy. 

4. Have I mentioned I'm hungry? 

5. Having gotten a little taste of racing on Sunday I want MORE. I have to be calm calm calm. I have to follow the plan. But I want to go out and run hard, not rest. I want to feel in control by proving to myself that I can still run fast and long. I am doubting myself. I am grumpy for doubting myself. 

6. I hate correcting and I'm buried in sixth grade papers. 

7. It looks like Clinton might be it--and I'm scared she can't win it. 

8. I miss my kids. Tri-Boomer wrote this great post on the why of triathlon. I've been stewing about it. 

Next post I will focus on that and stop being a whiner. promise. Have a good day full of good snacks.

Mid-Winter 10 Mile Cape Classic Race Report

I rose early and kissed my hub. and kids goodbye while they slept. I went straight to Dunkin' and got a large coffee and an egg, sausage and cheese on an English. Call me crazy, but I find those sandwiches excellent fuel for a race if you have enough time to digest before-hand. I made good time to Maine. The roads were clear and my mind was at peace as I listened to the end of Through A Glass Darkly, the epic story I have been "reading" in the car. 

After a two hour journey I arrived at the Cape high school. I found Ange and we got our numbers and chit-chatted about what to wear and what to eat and when and all that pre-race stuff. Her very cute boys (ages 8, 6 and 3) were there and her hub, Mark, who was also planning on running, and her parents, who came to care for the boys and cheer Ange and Mark on. About a 1/2 hour before the race I found Speedy with her Bob Rocks shirt on (very nice, I might add!) and introduced myself. 

She had been sick all week, and within a minute she let out the most painful sounding cough. I was like, "Whoa, should you be doing this?" She brushed it off, saying it sounded it worse than it was. Right! Then Mindy found us. She's tiny! Both were really nice. 

We talked a bit and then Ange came over to meet them as well. Ange and I were getting antsy about getting in a good warm-up before the race, so we excused ourselves. I was bummed I didn't get to meet Nistrik. Next time... 

Ange, Mark and I went for a warm-up around the school for a couple miles. I felt great. The air was cool, I was in MAINE, (I love Maine) and I was gonna race! I scarfed down a Gu, went to the start, and after chatting with a few runners, we were off. 

Ange, Mark and a new runner friend, Robin, shot ahead immediately. Yikes. No way could I keep THAT pace. I tried to hold back, knowing I didn't want to crash and burn like I had at the Frostbite. Still, the first mile was mostly downhill, and I took it out in 6:58. Oops. I slowed down, hit a big hill, and the next mile was more reasonable: 7:31. I had my faithful Nano, and I tried to focus on my stride and jamming to Prince instead of observing Ange , Mark and Robin move farther and farther ahead of me. People passed me for the first miles of the race. That was discouraging. Usually I do the passing because invariably I take out races too fast. 

I continued to try to keep an even pace, though, and that meant not going out too, too hard. I did a few 7:20s and a few 7:25s. The second half of the course is harder than the first half. It's a gradual uphill from mile 6 to the end with only a few life-saving dips. I slowed to 7:30s and held on. By mile 8 I was toast. I held on to my pace, but I was dying. I didn't have any kick at the end, and about 10 people passed me in the last quarter mile. That was a bummer, but I hurt, and there just wasn't any gas left in the tank. When I finished my Garmin read 10.1 miles, 7:23 pace. I don't know if the course was actually long, or if I was just really inefficient and did a lot of weaving. Either way, the Garmin doesn't lie, and I DID run 10.1--a whole extra tenth--which made my pace 5 seconds faster per mile than they had me down for. You can be SURE I put 10.1 and 7:23 pace in my log! :)
 

Ange cheered me when she saw me coming down the road to finish. She and Mark had run most of the race together and finished in 7:00 pace. Man, she is just so FAST! 

At lunch after the race she mentioned that in May she is going to be Triathlete Mag's Gatorade Athlete of the Month. That is so cool! You all must check it out. Anyway, that just proves she is a total goddess. She's famous. Or soon to be famous. :) The picture is of Ange. The race was hugely competitive. The first three females to finish were under 6 min. pace. The first four females will compete in the marathon Olympic Trials in April. Ange was 8th in her age group, and I was like 12th, I think. You know it's a tough crowd when a girl who finishes 10 miles in 7:00 pace doesn't even come close to placing in her age group. Both Ange and I placed higher than that at Timberman 70.3 last year for crying out loud!  

So that was the race. Even though it was tough, I still loved it. That's me to the right, in the red, behind two of the men who out-kicked me. I look a little concerned that I won't finish! I'm so sore and tired today. I'm wiped, and I'm going to bed. Thanks for reading!

Just Saying...

Great Things About My Race:

• I got to hang with Ange and Alina (h.s. friends). Ange is a rock star. She did a 7:01 pace. She is my idol.
• 
  
• I got to meet (if too briefly) two new blogger friends, SpeedRacer and Mindy.
• 
  
• I got to ride all the way up to Maine and back all by myself, with my book on tape, my DD coffee and my own thoughts.
• 
  
• The weather was really mild. It must have been at least in the low 40's.
• 
  
• I didn't run that badly! I definitely ran better than I did at the Frostbite. I finished in 1:14:27, which is 7:27 pace. It's a far cry from the 7:11 pace of last year, but I've been running 15 miles a week in zone 1 for the past two months. It's not bad for that, right?
• 
  
• I had a really nice, warm shower after the race in the high school locker room.
• 
  
• I got home and my kids were so happy to see me, and my husband had cleaned the kitchen, cleaned my car, and gotten groceries. I almost cried. His actions made me that happy. Take note, husbands!
  

A Couple Bad Things:

• I'm really sore.
• 
  
• I got outkicked by like 10 people in the last quarter mile.
• 
  
• I didn't get to meet Nitsirk because I was so antsy about warming up.

• The Patriots lost. (I know this doesn't have to do with the race, but you know, it's part of the day. I don't care really, I kinda of like it when the underdog wins, but the hub. is really sad.)

I will provide a more entertaining and detailed race report very soon!

Tomorrow I Race!

Last year I ran the Mid-Winter 10 Mile Cape Classic up in Maine. 

I had an awesome race, finishing in 1:11:4something/ 7:11 pace. I felt so strong. I remember it was bitterly cold that day. I had the beginnings of Achilles Tendinitis, but I was ignoring it. In the next week it became full blown and I had to take a full week off from running and enter physical therapy. 

This year's race will likely not go so well. I'm not in the rocking shape I was in at this time last year. Still, I'm so excited. I'll get up early and drive the 2.5 hours to the start, drinking my coffee and listening to the end of Through A Glass Darkly, the somewhat cheesy novel I'm listening to in the car. I'll see Ange and some new blogger friends like Mindy and Speedy and Nitsirk, and after the race I'll have lunch with Ange, her family and my good friend from high school, Alina. I hope it's a good day, and I hope I will allow myself to be proud and happy with my pace/time, no matter how much slower it is than last year! 

I have to remember that not being super fast right now is a part of the master plan. I need to peak in August, not January. Right now I'm just building an aerobic base. Remind me of this when I lament my race time in my report. 

 I don't know if you all do this, but lately I've been having massive delusions of grandeur. Winning races and heading to Kona just don't seem impossible right now. This could be because I'm in a rest week. Whenever I'm resting I feel so full of energy that I start imagining that at my next race it will be revealed that I'm as good as Kate Major or Michellie Jones. Sponsors will knock at my door and offer to get me a new Tri Bike and coaches from all over the country will contact me hoping I will allow them to coach me. I spent a lot of time figuring out who will be some of my main competition in my age group at Timberman 70.3 this year. There are at least four women I know of who are returning to compete this year who posted faster times than me last year or the year before (not including Ange, who will likely beat me, but who isn't a "threat" because she's Ange!) My current plan is to smoke everyone in my age group,including these women, but except Ange, who will also smoke everyone, and go under 5 hours. I'm dreaming big. 'Til Tomorrow.

Just for the Record...

I thought "We Built this City" was a good idea. And it was at first. It brought me back to my sophomore year in high school. It has a good beat. etc. But now I can't get the f-ing song out of my head. It's torturing me. I'm convinced this torture is divine punishment for allowing myself to indulge in such incredible cheese. --------- So the only thing better than actually getting a mammogram is getting called back by the radiologist and being told you have to come back and do it all over again. More slides needed--now not later--no, not next month--NOW. Here's the thing. My boobs are so, so, so small. They basically don't appear to exist, which is astoundingly ironic to those who have known me my whole life. Right, Ange? Currently it is my assessment that I look like a boy. Only my long hair and the crow's feet around my eyes reveal my sex and age. How could these microscopic boobies harbor anything suspicious and terrible? I digress. Today was the special day I was assigned to have my boobs mashed again. Actually, just my left boob. Apparently the right one is in the clear. I took Advil before I left this time. I've been told it would help. It didn't. After the torture of the boob mashing was over, I was asked to wait. The doctor wanted to look at the slides immediately. Don't move. Don't take off that hip mammography cape. Sit. Stay. I sat for a long time. Then I sat for more time. and a little more. I watched the news and heard all about Britney and the weather and how to cut children's hair without them freaking out and I got to pore over the new issue of Triathlete Magazine that had come to my door just the day before. It wasn't so bad. Better than working, right? Finally, I fell asleep in the waiting room, mouth open and drooling, my cape falling every which way. I'm sure my non-existent chest was exposed to the world. Finally they called me in. Nope. You can't go home. Come here, my child. Time for an ultrasound. The ultrasound made me feel very sad. The last time I had had an ultrasound was when I was pregnant with my third child, Lara. How could I be here under these circumstances? How is it possible? The technician did her thing, and then called the doctor in for a look. The doctor wasn't sure. It looked like a cyst, but not a normal cyst. It must be a COMPLICATED cyst, I was told. She would need to consult another physician. The physician was called. More waiting. The physician came. Yes. It did indeed look a very COMPLICATED cyst. Biopsy needed. Let's to it today. Now. This hour. Mary, can you stay? I say, "You know, I don't know if this makes a difference here, but right where you have found this COMPLICATED cyst? That's the place I always had a plugged duct when nursing my children. Yes, right there. I had a number of mastitis over my nursing years, the last just a year and a half ago, all with their origin right there. Yes, there. Exactly there." "Hmmmm. Well. Yes. Actually, that's interesting. Maybe it isn't a COMPLICATED cyst. Maybe it isn't a cyst at all. Let's look again. "Yes, see how it's elongated, kind of like a, um, mammory duct? Yes, and see how there's DEBRIS moving inside it? Hold your breath for a minute, Mary. Breathe in and hold. That's right. pause. pause. hmmmm. pause. "Yes. That's a plugged duct. With debris. Do you concur doctor? When did you stop nursing, Mary?" And that was that. All that panic. One technician. Two doctors. It's a duct still clogged, one year post nursing. And there's still some DEBRIS in there. That's very pleasant. What the hell is debris? Really sour milk? Yummy. Aren't I HAWT? Me with my boy chest and mammary ducts with ancient DEBRIS inside? I must return for yet another ultrasound in three months, just to be sure. Perhaps by then the DEBRIS will have moved on. But I celebrated my presumably clean bill of health by skipping the rest of school, getting a facial, buying myself a new shirt and a pair of dark purple pants and having a latte and two chocolate cinnamon cookies at Starbucks. Sigh. Aging. It ain't pretty.

Weekend Training Review...

This morning I had another slow swim. I am not getting any faster. I think it may have to do with the fact that I swim on my own, without a team. This morning the pool was packed. We had to circle swim. Argh. I hate that. I found one of the morning regulars, Dwight, and hunkered down in his lane. Dwight and I have about the same pace, so I figured it was a good choice. However, a NEW guy, a super athlete NEW guy, joined us. You could tell he was of the Total Immersion camp because he took like five strokes per length and was still wicked fast. Anyway. I was doing a set of 150's at a too leisurely pace. Just like last week, I couldn't muster the umph to really push. That is , until NEW fast guy leaves the wall like two seconds after me on my fourth interval. He wasn't close enough to pass me, but I had that fight or flight feeling, like Shit! He's closer--move-- MOVE or he will be tickling your toes! I did that repeat in 2:09. All of my others were 2:20.

In short, I think I need to work out with people who will push me. I'm stagnating. I have a hard time pushing when it's just me and the clock. I need to find out if NEW guy is coming back, and if so, if he will be my training buddy. Unfortunately, my pool doesn't have a Master's team. I have talked to the director a few times about forming one, but she just keeps yes-ing me and nothing happens.

After my swim I jumped in the shower and thought, man, the only thing I do almost as much as work out is to shower. My hair is brittle and orangey from all of the washing. My skin is parched and rough.
Anybody have any solutions to this problem? I am assuming you all have a similar showering overload conundrum.

On Saturday I went running in our temperate 20 degree weather with my friend Petra, who is in so much better running shape than me it's sick. I tried to stay in zone 1, but I kept checking my watch and was like whoa! I'm not only out of zone 1, I'm outa zone2! It was a killer. But it was still awesome to see her and get caught up. She's a sick athlete: case in point--she did a 2:35 bike split at Worlds. That's right--2:35. She then follwed it with a 1:40 half mary. The girl is awesome. Petra's husband is equally awesome. He ran the Master's mile at the Reebook Indoor Games in Boston on Saturday night and did a 4:40. At age 45. Unbelievable.

Anyway. Back to my weekend training ramble...
I biked the next day for three hours on the trainer. It was TORTURE. I have tried watching TV, reading cheesy mags, blasting music. It's still a killer. I can't focus on other media when I'm focusing on keeping my heart rate down and my cadence up. My kids were like, "When are you getting off of that thing, Mom! You've been on it all day!" And they were right. I didn't fit much in on Sunday: laundry, trainer, Candyland and a quick visit from my brother and sister-in-law. I didn't even leave the house.

In order to reward myself after my run on Saturday I had two Guinness, calamari, and a huge cheeseburger. And I puzzle as to why I have not shed any weight....

I also rewarded myself by purchasing a few more 80s cheese-a-rama tunes for the Nano. My husband threatened to divorce me when he discovered I had bought "We Built this City." I know you're all cringing. It really is shameful...but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Adios!

Wanted: Synchronicity

So... I had a great run yesterday afternoon. I savored it even more having been denied it by my own forgetfulness the day before. I took AtlantaMom's suggestion and put an old, smelly pair of running shoes in the back of the mini-van for future emergencies. Good advice! Thanks! 

On my mind: As I mentioned in a previous post, I have trouble with conflict. I refer to my anti-conflict self as Pastel Girl. Pastel Girl is really a wimp--especially when she has to deal with conflict at work. Her modus operandi is to pretend conflict and discomfort and tension do not exist, and to move forward as such. In her mind, there are consequences to addressing conflict--consequences which she is usually unwilling to take on, such as disrupting the peace and incurring wrath. 

The thing is, though, when Pastel Girl has finally had enough and totally snaps, she is not at all graceful. She moves out of her easy, flexible and self-deprecating shell and morphs into a strident, cutting bitch. It's ugly. And it happened today. She came out. I'm not going to go into the what and the how and the why. 

 Suffice it to say I was challenged by a particularly righteous and judgmental colleague, a person whom I genuinely like most of the time, but whom acts like she is everyone's superior. It's grating. So, during a long, difficult meeting at which I hadn't say "boo" I suddenly attacked. I became mary don't fuck with me don't insult me or i will coldly and articulately cut you down until you cry. 

After the meeting many people visited me privately and said such things as: "I didn't know you had it in you." "Remind me not to fuck with you." and finally, my favorite: "She had it coming." So now the dynamics on my team are in shambles. I really need to synchronize my two selves. I'm a lamb with a tiger inside. A T-Rex disguised as a mouse. I'm really nice except when I'm a total bitch.

I need to be like--I don't know--maybe a gazelle? A lemur? One animal. Not two. According to the Golden Compass Daemon finder my alter-ego/soul-- my daemon--is a tiger named Inachus. If I'm to be a tiger--these are the tigers I'd like to be--not the above. I need to work on this. I have a distance to travel. Thanks for reading.  

Defeated

This morning's swim was just plain lethargic. I kept thinking to myself, "Okay self, this repeat is going to be a big effort. Work it!" And then I'd continue to slug along. It was a long, slow, tired 2200 yards. But I did it. It was done. I didn't cut it short by a single yard. And after work I had a nice 50 min run planned. ahhh. I love running. I couldn't wait to suck in the cold, crisp air and listen to my new, cheese-a-rama playlist on the Nano. After dismissing my last class I ran to the bathroom to change. I had to rush because I had a doctor's appt. in an hour, and this run needed to be squeezed between work and this appt. (I have no shame. I show up to all sorts of things sweaty and out of breath.) I scrambled into my tights and shirt. I pulled on my jacket and stuffed my work clothes into my bag. And then I realized it: My running shoes. Not here. Not in the bag. I had left my running shoes at home. Argghh! I changed back into my work clothes and trudged solmenly back into my classroom. I kept thinking, Is there any way around this? Could I find a pair of running shoes in the kids' lost and found? How impractical would it be to buy a new pair right now so I could head out before that appointment? Could I run in my big, clunky, black, street shoes? Should I cancel the appointment so I can rush home and get in the run before picking up the kids? Desperate thoughts. I folded my hand. I was defeated. Now I am going to have to find a way to do both a bike workout and this missed run tomorrow. Sigh. Bike will be before work and the run after. I have already packed my bag for the run--and my spiffy shoes are right on top.

Frostbite 15k Race Report

Yep. I'm in sucky running shape. There is no doubt about that.

Still, though, it was a great day and a great race.

I drove to the race site with the fam. They dropped me off and then went to IHOP. It was cold! Too cold to actually stay and watch such a long race. Anwyay. I found my running friends and got caught up. I went to the bathroom about 10 times and then we went out for a short warm up. I only did about a mile. I haven't run more than 10 miles at one time since Thanksgiving. I didn't want to wear myself out in the warm up!

I took the race out fast. Too fast. I actually THOUGHT I was being conservative. Alas. I'm not the running goddess I was a few short months ago. Anyway, I held 7:15's for two miles, but soon slowed to 7:20s and then 7:40s. At about 4.5 miles I really started to feel tired--far more tired than I ever remember feeling in a race of just 9.3 miles. I got passed quite a bit, having taken it out fast and slowed way down, but I was okay with that. It just wasn't the day to fight for the win.

Luckily, I had on my Nano complete with a NEW racing playlist I had created the night before. Here are a few of the fab. songs I listened to as I got slower and slower:

Hit Me With Your Best Shot--Pat Benatar
C'm Feel the Noize--Quiet Riot
Like a Prayer--Madonna
Working for the Weekend--Loverboy
Let's Go Crazy--Prince
Rock the Casbah--The Clash
Don't You Want Me--The Human League
Panama--Van Halen
Any Way You Want It--Journey
Maniac--(you know, from Flashdance)
Ice Ice Baby--Vanilla Ice
Juke Box Hero--Foreigner
Here I Go Again--Whitesnake
Add it Up--Violent Femmes

Quite a mix, huh? You must remember that I was a young, top-40 loving teen in the early 80's. My first concert was Loverboy. Remember the red leather pants? Oh yeah...

So. Back to the race. I struggled on valiently and duked it out at the end with a man in his late 50s. He was awesome. He just keep saying, "You got it! Don't let the old man beat ya!" as we sprinted in. Good guy. My family was there at the end, shivering in their boots. They said, "Go Mom!" and then, "Can we go inside now?"

I finished in 1:10:14, 7:33 pace. Last year I finished the same course in 7:05 pace. Oh boy. Still, I was first in my age group and won an ice scraper for the car. A good, practical prize for a race entitled the Frostbite, don't you think?

I feel bummed about my running, but I'm trying to keep up-beat. I'm simply not going to be as fast as I was if I focus all my energy on three disciplines as opposed to just the run. I have been running only about 15 miles a week in zone 1 for months now. Of course I'm not going to race as I did last year, when I was training for Boston and running 40 plus miles a week and doing plenty of speed and tempo work. Sigh.

When I got home I relaxed and played with the kids a bit. Then I got on the death trainer. Cait had me riding for 90 min. after the race. Yikes. I was SPENT before I even got on the bike. It was kind of horrible. But I survived. My ass is killing me. I need some Advil.

Thanks for reading!

TriGreyhound just wrote an entry about his daughter who believes him to be a model and who in her life wants to do an Ironman. His entry made me think about how the triathlon life seeps into the lives of our family. Here is a sampling of things I noticed in the last week or so:

• My two-year-old headed to the basement because she had to "get on her trainer" (her tricycle).
• My six-year old daughter had a friend over. When the friend saw several packs of Gu on the desk by my bike she asked what they were. Jordan replied casually, "That's Gu. You eat it when you exercise a lot. You know, like when you go on the trainer for a whole bunch of hours." The girl just looked at her like, "What?"
• My kids set up obstacle courses in the playroom and play "triathlon." They use a blue blanket for the water, their plastic cars for the bike, and the run is real running.
• My kids ask what workout I'm doing in the morning right before they go to bed--swimming, trainer or running--so they know whether I'll be home when they wake up.
• When I put on Ironman St. Croix again for the tenth time the other day while I was on the trainer, my son, the four-year old said, "Mommy, you already know who wins this one. It's the guy with the white and blue! He rides the silver bike!"
• When I told the kids I was going to race tomorrow Jordan asked, "Can we come and go out to breakfast?!" That's what my racing means to them...

The language and practice of triathlon is just a part of who this family is. They can't really escape it. I really hope each of my children adopts this life as an adult--or at least the life of the active person. I hope they don't resent their parents for being so involved in something that requires such a huge commitment--a commitment that is ultimately about me and what I have chosen as opposed to them and what they may want or need. I hope they are proud of us and want to emulate us. I hope that someday I am able to complete a triathlon with one or all of my children. -------------- Yesterday as I made dinner the kids watched part of Bambi. (What a sad movie that is!) Anyway, I walked into the family room to get them for dinner and this is what I found: Noah was the only one still awake!

Don't You Hate it When...

You think you are a svelte goddess who has shed all of her holiday weight, and then you get on the scale? I've been trying to think up good reasons why the scale hasn't budged: I am bloated, it's late in the day, I am sore from shoveling and retaining water etc. etc. Sigh. But I know the truth. Damn scale.

I don't even own one, actually. I went to the gym today, and they have one. And you know, gym scales are like the REAL DEAL. They don't lie like the dinky house scales most people have. Sigh again.

I have been working out like a champ this week because I am racing on Sunday and I needed to get in all of my mandatory death trainer time despite it. To clarify, I'm taking the day before the race (Saturday) off, which is when I usually do that long, horrible death trainer ride. All of those evil hours on the trainer were incorporated into my training this work week, courtesy of Cait. I've been looking forward to this race for awhile, though, so it was all worth it.
Except

It's supposed to be 10 degrees on Sunday with a wind chill below zero. WTF! Well, actually, it is January and it is New England and the race is called the Frostbite. What did I expect? I'm trying to believe it will be a super great race anyway. I know I won't run really well--but that doesn't matter much to me because I am not supposed to be racing well in the off season. What makes the race fun is that I will be able to see and catch up with my running buddies with whom I am so out of touch.

In other news, I just found out that an old friend of mine bought Fast Splits, the store who sponsors my tri- team. Amazing. He owns it. Like the owner. Like the whole thing. My hub. doesn't see why this fascinates me so much. But it does. I'd like to be the owner of Fast Splits... someday. someday.
Someday my tri-life will also be my professional life. Maybe. You never know.

Snowday

Ahh. The Snow Day. For those of you out in the real working world, they mean very little, except that they are a P.I.T.A if you have kids and must get coverage while you go to work. For we folk who never left school, however, they are sheer bliss. The only problem with the snow day is that you pay for them at the end of the school year. I am planning to go on this big, crazy 4 day tri-weekend with my team in late June, but I will only be able to attend Saturday and Sunday of it if we have even one more snow day. You absolutely cannot under any circumstances take off the final days of school. It's almost as a big a no-no as taking off the first day. Know what I mean? But I digress. I needed today. I had to get on the Death Trainer for one hour forty minutes, (which is way too long for a weekday workout in my opinion). I did that. (Go Mary!) Unfortunately, I didn't do the million other things on my list such as: correct papers plan lessons for the end of the week calculate grades, which are due in a week and a half do the laundry change the sheets on the beds vacuum up the ten tons of dog hair in this house I did, however: Dance to "I'm A Little Washing Machine" about a billion times with my kids Put together a 300 piece puzzle of a cute puppy with my daughter Read "Clifford's Easter" (very seasonally appropriate-ha) to Noah (son) about a billion times. Watch Herbie Fully Loaded with my kids Surf the web and read tri-blogs for far too long while my kids destroyed the house and stole pudding and chocolate milk from the fridge Drank tons of coffee and got all jittery and hyper Shovel while my kids punched each other and played "King of the Mountain" in the snow It was a good day.

You Know You're Getting Old When...

your doctor tells you it's time to get your first mammogram. 

 I had one this morning. If you haven't had one (or never will because you ain't a girl) then I will fill you in, because I know you're dying to know what it's like... 

First you go into this dark room. Then you must put your boob on this cold metal table. Then the technician mushes your breast into the correct position and begins to "apply pressure" by lowering the lever atop the boob. Are you wondering whether the technician in the picture is going to lower that flat, cold piece of metal/plastic onto that poor woman's breast? If you guessed yes, you'd be correct. She continues to lower it until your poor boob is flat as a pancake. Then she walks away for "a second" so she can take the picture, all the while reminding you to breathe and relax. She does this four times. If you don't think your breast can be flattened pancake thin, think again. I am here to tell you it can be. ouch. Sigh. 

I have this strange feeling that having my first mammogram is an initiation into the world of old lady medical tests. I have to wonder what other special treats are coming my way in years to come. Let's just hope the images come back negative... 

 In other news, I spent two and half glorious hours on the death trainer today. During the first half of this joyous time I opted to watch a movie on demand with the kids. We chose Underdog. We are the proud owners of two old, smelly, lovable pups, which is perhaps why we all loved the movie so much. I thought parts of it were hysterical. I didn't finish the workout before I had to leave for my mammogram, so I had to finish it when I got home. When I returned, my oldest daughter had two friends over for a playdate, and so I finished my workout while they played Mr. PotatoHead, Candyland and dress-up at my feet. At one point I shook my head, wet with perspiration, and hit one little girl with a drop of my sweat. She screamed "Eww! Your mom just got me with her icky wet head!" It was funny. Then all the kids (including my four and two year old) wanted me to swing my wet ponytail to get them wet too. Kids are weird! (but very cute.) In case you're wondering, I did not grant their wish. I can picture it now: "Guess what, Mom! Jordan's mommy got all sweaty on her bike thing and then soaked us with her ponytail!" Nice. I just got the okay to add a race to my schedule. 

Yahoo! I am going to run the Cape Classic 10 Miler in my hometown in early February. I can't wait!

The (Lack of) Running Blues

I'm a little homesick.

I miss running. I miss racing. I'm homesick for my old life in which I raced whenever I damn felt like it. I miss constructing the ultimate race calendar at the start of the year during which I fantasize about all of the races that are before me and hold such fun, excitement and possibility. I miss my road running buddies who run each morning whether it's cold, rainy or snowy, who race all winter in all condtions (the nastier the better) and who culminate their winter running with the Boston Marathon in the spring. I miss the attitude that racing twice in one day is the ultimate in passion and not totally sicko. I miss sharing war stories about running for weeks and weeks straight (or years and years in the case of my running friend Micheal) until legs are dead and leaden. I miss the attitude that more is better and rest is for wimps. I miss taking a run out really hard just because you had a bad day and need to pound the pavement. I miss reading the Hockomock Swamp Rat, knowing I'll see my name in the racing re-caps, and nodding in agreement at the hysterical write-ups of the races.

I went swimming this moring and I loved it. I've been working on Total Immersion technique, and I'm feeling smooth, slippery and like a shark. I love the tired feeling I get after swimming. It's a totally different tired than a running tired, which feels achey rather than relaxed. I'm also loving the improvement I am making on the bike. I don't actually like being on the bike, I'd rather be running, but I like that I have so far to go on the bike, and so with each week I can see a huge improvement. In running it's been awhile since I witnessed that kind of improvement from week to week; I've just been at it too long. And I love the laser like focus I have right now in my work with Cait.

I'm having fun, and I love what I'm doing, but I also miss what I used to have. Ahh, if only we could have everything we wanted....

But then, of course, our hard-fought successes wouldn't be quite so sweet.

I Can't Count!

On Monday morning I was supposed to do an 800 yard time trial in the pool. 

No problem--except that I can't count. I finished what I thought was an 800--and clicked my watch. 12:48. 

Great! Except... hmmm. Is that too great? Did I finish 50 shy of the 800? Last time I did an 800 TT I was over 13 minutes. I continued my workout, but the doubt lingered. 

The rest of the day I tortured myself. Did I really go under 13 min? What if it was more like 13:30? Should I email the time to Cait, or should I do it again, just to be sure? Finally, I decided I couldn't stand the doubt. I would do the TT again this morning. So I did. I counted very carefully. I clicked my watch at the first 200, just to see where I was. 3:09. Good. I kept swimming. I got to 600. Or wait, was that 650? SHIT! I finished at what I thought was most likely the 800. Clicked the watch. 13:18. 

oh. damn. But wait, that can't be right. I took it out relatively slowly in a 3:09. Even if I slowed up significantly, I would've gone under 13, right? So was it more like 12:45 ? Had I done an extra 50? AGH! I think I need a lap counter. Does anyone have one? How do they work? When I was a kid during a race over a 500, each swimmer would have a personal, live counter. The counter would slip the number into the water (see pic. above) to let the swimmer know where he/she was at each lap. That's what I need! How do people keep track? Is this just happening because I'm getting old and batty?

"Fun" 4 Miler Race Report

As expected, the 4 Mile Fun Run was not, in fact, very fun. It was okay though. I love racing, even when I am in totally sucky running shape.

Here are the highlights:

• I finished in 27:56, which isn't great for me, but it could've been way worse.
• I took it out in 6:46 and felt great! (you know where this is going...)
• I was the first woman almost the whole way. (you also know where this is going...)
• It was a gorgeous day--sunny and in the 40's.
• Everyone was very friendly and I had a good time chatting with everyone who would talk to me before and after the race.
• My family came to the race with me, and it was super nice to have them there, especially since this was a dinky little race which didn't mean much in the large scheme of things.
• We went to Wendy's after the race which is such a fun, indulgent treat. We ate french fries and they were really, really salty and delicious.

Here are the lowlights: (Is that a word?)

• After my 6:46 mile my heartrate shot up and I began breathing louder (and much faster) than Darth Vader.
• After my first mile my pace slowed and my legs got heavier and heavier until they felt like two lead stumps swinging from my body.
• I was overdressed in the warm temps and I sweat like a hog.
  
• I lead for women the whole way until some lady swept past me as I violently sucked wind in the last mile. She wasn't breathing hard. She smiled and said, "Great work!" as she sailed past. It was very annoying.
• Some 14 year old kid in high tops and soccer shorts out-kicked me at the end. That was probably the most special part of the race. Damn kids.

So. That was my race.

I just got BLOCK 2 from Caitlin, and I'm sad, because I am still doing aerobic ground work this month --all in zone 1. Can you hear me snoring? When do I get to lift weights and mold myself into something from American Gladiators? (Did you see that they are reviving that show? Lots of crazy people on steroids. Should be fun.) Also, my running mileage will continue to be paltry this month. I had to tape up my hands to prevent them from emailing Cait immediately and demanding more running on the schedule. I'm like a junkie without my daily fix! I can't stand it! But I am going to trust, trust, trust. No emailing. No complaining. No sneaking in extra runs. No. No. No.

I spent the afternoon trying to find lodging for the Mooseman Tri in June. Argh. P.I.T.A. There are plenty of lovely B&B's up there--but what I need is like a Super 8 really close by. Oh well. It's still going to be so fun. I'm going with Ange and we're going to kick butt! (At least that's the plan...) ;)

I'm on the Scene

Tonight I'm talking to my hub. about (what else) triathlon. He recently ordered that Open Water swimming video and book by Terri Laughlin, the Total Immersion man. Lately he's been into thinking about swimming technique, and I think this is what inspired it. Anyway, he mentions that he also checked out getting a few Spinervals dvds, but he wanted to ask his runner friend who bikes whether he'd had experience with them, and whether they were any good. His runner friend forwards his message to one of his tri-friends, and that's when it happened. I am known. This tri guy, who I don't know, KNOWS WHO I AM, and mentions this to my hub. Basically he wanted to know if he (husband) was interested in Spinervals, or whether I (his wife who's in the local tri-scene) wanted to know. I AM IN THE LOCAL TRI-SCENE! I'm like, known! By someone--you know--other than by my parents or the hub. or close friends! I know it's likely b/c I am newly a part of this team that is known locally, but still. I'm semi-known in the running world, but I had yet to break into the ranks of the tri world. Yahoo! I'm giddy. In other news I am feeling fat as a truck. The holiday cookies are now situated on my hips and waist. This is not helped by the fact that this week I'm on a "break" week. You know how every fourth week you're supposed to cool it? I have the urge to run like 10 miles a day, which is, by the way, what I usually do at this time of year b/c I'm 1. Usually training for Boston and 2. freaking out b/c nothing I own fits and I am finding gray hairs and flab under my arms. But no. This week I ran about 10 miles according to the plan. The plan which I must trust. Trust. It's all about trust says my man, Jesse. As icing on the cake I'm to run a 3.9 race on Sunday with the Colonial Road Runners, a local running club. If I can run 3.9 miles hard it will be a miracle in itself. I absolutely can't wait to email my time to my coach. Hmmmmmm. 15 miles a week averaged in December + 7-8 extra pounds = -----. On Sunday I will fill in the blank. By the way--Locked and Loaded (Kim) got me all into the Site Meter thing. I now realize that my silent stalking of several bloggers has been out in broad daylight. OhmiGod. The powers of technology. Other than being cowed by my obsessive lurking, I'm also flabberghasted at the amount of traffic some of the bloggers I read get. It's kind of amazing. I get little traffic. Sniff. Can't some of you out there visit my site for a second like 10 times a day so I can feel special? I'm easy to please. All I want is a little traffic... ;)Look how happy I am to know that some random person knows vaguely who I am? Someone from Nigeria did find my site. Probably it was a mistake, but whatever! NIGERIA!

2008 Resolutions

1. to quit making resolutions You know, they just end up making you feel like shit. Instead I am going to make a vow to indulge. Here are a few things I plan to indulge in frequently in 2008: reading tri-blogs watching tv swimming, biking, running 80's tunes on my Nano watching/observing my kids play playing with my kids bread--toasted with peanut butter chocolate snuggling good books (both trash and quality) Triathlete magazine People and other tabloid trash sleeping keeping in touch with good friends like you, Ange! And on that note, I'm going to bed! More tomorrow.

High School, Revisited

We traveled to Maine the day after Christmas to see my family. We planned to stay until Thursday night, and I had to get in a swim according to my PLAN from Caitlin that I refuse to disobey. (Yep, I'm a little rigid...) Problem. Where? 

My friend Alina swims with a Masters team up there, so I thought perhaps I could join them. They weren't practicing Christmas week, however. Instead, she had gotten special permission to work out with the high school swim team. Did I want to come? Oh boy. 

The coach of both the girls and boys swim teams in Cape Elizabeth is a former classmate of mine--a guy with whom I was actually pretty good friends. I walked into the pool site and immediately saw him. The whole thing was like a weird dream. Here I am walking in with my best friend from high school to the pool, where we spent so much time, and there is Ben, my buddy and fellow swimmer--only he's the coach--and Alina and I aren't in high school, but are 37, and we are supposed to get in the pool and practice just like the old days with all of these kids... Bizarre. The whole thing was bizarre. 

 It was also a bit of a nightmare (even though I had fun). One of the sets we did was 12 x 125 on 2 minutes. The odds were to be done as 100 IM with 25 free at the end, and the evens were straight free with a start off the block. Yikes. Anway, we get started on the set and I quickly fall behind and fail to make the interval. No big deal. I'm a 37 year old Mom practicing with high schoolers., right? What did I expect? I already have no shame... Except that every time we started off the blocks, the whole team had to wait for me to finish so they wouldn't dive on top of me. EMBARRASSING! 

I apologized profusely to Ben after practice about holding up his team, but he just laughed and said he knew the team was psyched about the added break. BTW, my friend Alina is a rock start swimmer (former state champion in a billion events) --and she kicks the asses of the high schoolers, so she was in no way holding back the team as I was... 

In other news, I am finally starting to make some progress on the bike. I am now going faster while still staying in zone 1. Of course, I still haven't cured the boredom problem. It's pretty deadly. I'm supposed to ride 2.5 hours tomorrow morning, and I have my bike set up next to a table complete with drinks, a gel, 1/2 a Clif Bar, 4 books, 3 magazines and the TV clicker. Wish me good luck. 

Unrelated to all of this is super exciting news for me in Mommyland. My youngest has decided that she is now potty-trained. She's determined. No more diapers. This was a huge, special, total GIFT. My other two resisted training and probably would still be shitting in diapers if I hadn't insisted for months and months that they act like big kids. Lara is only 2.5 years old, and she basically wants to be like her big bro and sis. Sweet! She's gone three days with only one mistake. Of course this mistake was that she took a dump in her underpants--not pretty--but still, things are looking promising. NO MORE DIAPERS. Hallelujah!

I am Now...

THE IRON MATRON Tri-ing to do it all was just too whiny. It's a play on Iron Maiden. Not sure those who grew up post 80's will get it.

Part of the Problem...

Is that I am a pastel girl. My favorite color is pink. My blog is a light, airy blue. I like stuffed animals. I like to watch Animal Planet.
Girls who like pastels and watch Animal Planet don't kick ass. They are like that girl in the song Free Falling by Tom Petty: fluffy, walked over, and left.

I am not fluffy, walked over and left, but I feel edge-less.Why isn't my blog edgy and black? Why don't I wear black stilettos? Why won't I get a tattoo, even though I WANT ONE. Why do I apologize so f-ing much? Why can't I deal with conflict AT ALL?

I think the reason (or one of the reasons) I love triathlon so much is because when I race I leave pastel girl behind. I am strong, tough, and I will be damned if I let the dude with the hot bike pass me. I will kick your face off if you touch me in the swim. In short, I am focused, aggressive, and sometimes downright mean when I race, and it makes me feel alive and real and free.

I think I am in need of a merger between my pastel self and my racing self.
I don't want my daughters (or my son, for that matter) to have a pastel woman as mom. How do I let my racing self out of her pastel shell without worrying so much that people won't like me anymore if I do?

I need a long, hard run rocking out to American Idiot and other Green Day rants.

I Suck on the Bike

And it will be a long, long time before I can say otherwise. 

I am runner first, a swimmer second, and a biker--ummm. Not at all. 

Andy bought me Little Red, as I've come to affectionately call her, last Christmas. I gazed upon her a lot last winter, thinking how attractive (and intimidating) she was, but didn't actually get on her until May of last year. Just looking at those clip-on pedals and those skinny, skinny tires made my heart race (in a terrified way, not an excited way). 

The first time I rode her we went to this area where there is a one mile loop closed to traffic. I rode at about 5 mph, my grip on the handlebars so tight my hands hurt for like an hour after I got off. I fell. And then I fell again. I swore. I panicked. My knees got bloody. I screwed up Little Red's handlebars by falling sideways one too many times. I thought I would never be able to go on the main road, let alone race. But here's the thing: I had already signed up for the Timberman 1/2 Iron in August. Nothing like runner's arrogance , huh? (e.g I run marathons! How hard could 56 little miles on the bike be?) So there was no choice. Little Red and I had to become a team, and I had to learn how to ride. 

I had Jesse make me a plan, and I was off--wobbling a bit--but off. Now that I've been riding Little Red for 8 months, I'm no longer terrified of the main road or of racing (although I'm still a little anxious every time I ride outside). Nevertheless, I always opt to run first, swim second, and avoid biking at all costs. Until now. 

I began working with Cait last week. Now I'm running like 15 miles a week (as opposed to 30-35 I usually run) and I'm on the trainer what feels like 3 hours a day. Today I need to get on for two hours and ten minutes. Argh. So so sosossososo long. We just got about a foot of snow and it's still sleeting outside, so obviously riding outside isn't a possibility. Gotta love New England. I'm supposed to have a cadence of 95 rpm all the time when I'm riding. Um. That's like IMPOSSIBLE. Here's why: if I put it into a normal middle gear, I can't spin fast enough. If I put it into an easy gear, I can spin, but I'm not able to pedal smoothly. Does that make sense? Anybody have any suggestions for me? Is it just one of those practice makes perfect things? 

On another note, I was able to get a night away this weekend. I went out with a good friend of mine to a holiday party in town. I don't usually drink, but hey, it's the holiday season, and I was out SANS kids! So I had like three chocolate martinis. Right. I had to get up to run 60 minutes Sat. morning. It was not pretty. It might have been the longest 60 minutes of my life. Remind me not to do that again any time soon. Definitely. Not. Worth. It.

Life Outside of Triathlon???

I never wrote about my brother's wedding, which took place three weeks ago now. It was awesome. 

 I love my new sister-in-law, who is smart, fun, and gorgeous, but who most importantly loves my kids! She is really a favorite aunt already. My son adores her (and is perhaps a little in love with her--I'm not sure. Can one be in love at the age of 4?) My daughters were flower girls in the wedding, and they were so cute. Lara (my two-year-old) didn't make it down the aisle, turning around and screaming "Mommy!" when only half way there, but she was still super cute in her cake-like dress and shimmery gold shoes. My sister's daughter was also a flower girl. She was very poised, and tried her best to get Lara to go down the aisle. 

The best part of the wedding came when my cousin Nate, the best man and a musician, sang with a few other guys (my baby brother, AJ, included) a "special" song for the bride and groom. In the ceremony program it just said "special song"--with no other explanation. Even Jordan (brother) and Odessa (sister-in-law) didn't know what was in store. It was a great moment when they began singing "Open Arms" by Journey. Of course they had to sing it an octave lower than Steve Perry sings it, but still, it was AWESOME. By the end of the song all of us who grew up in the 80s were serenading Jordan and Odessa too. It was fantastic. My favorite picture is 

of Noah and Lara holding hands. When does that ever happen? 

My sister's children are Alanna, the older girl with long blond tresses and Sam, the older boy. The final pic., to the right, was taken after Lara scrambled back down the aisle and into my lap. 

It's been really cold here the last couple of days and it's been hard to motivate to work out outside. Yesterday it was snowing and wet when I got out of work, but like so many of you, I couldn't stomach the treadmill, nor did I have the time to go to the gym before pick-up, so I sucked it up and ran outside. After 200 feet I stepped into a huge, icy, slush puddle in order to avoid getting hit by an obnoxious "you better move" driver. My feet got soaked--which in my opinion is the absolute worst. I kept slogging, though, and the run didn't turn out to be so bad. In fact, about a mile before the end I had a great moment, running fast downhill while Greenday pounded in my ears and the snow fell in large wet flakes on my face. 

 It's kind of awesome when you defy the weather and just run. It makes you feel sorry for all of those people holed up in their snug homes, who just don't get it and totally miss out. 

Despite the above sentiment, today I just couldn't deal with the cold (it was 25 degrees with a wind at 4 p.m.) so I went to the gym. They have this new bike there that has a video screen attached to it. I've watched people ride it the last few weeks and observed that it measures everything--power, heart rate, speed, time, mileage. Also, you can select a particular course and the screen simulates the ride. Today there were only a few people in the gym, so I figured I could try and fiddle around with it without feeling the pressure to just do the workout and get off. It's pretty cool. I've never ridden and had my power measured during the ride. Generally my power measured around 120, although I've no idea what that means. I got as high as 250, and as low as 30. I tried a few of the simulated rides, but they made me feel nauseated. 

Does anyone out there use a power meter when they train? I'd love to hear people's opinions of it, whether it's helpful, or just another way to spend three billion dollars on this sport we love! Next week I start working with my new coach. I'm going to miss these weeks of only working out for 6 or 7 hours and only doing what I want to do!

GNRCYO 5k Race Report

I ran the GNRCYO 5k this morning. 

My running club, GNRC , puts it on. We had a pretty good turn out, I think. I wonder if we hit the 100 mark? In any case we made $1200 for the club, which is awesome and a relief, since we're a new club and until now had no saved money. I won it for women, but my time was far from stellar (race results--21:29) and far from a PR. I never run fast on that course, and today it was windy, really cold (28 degrees at the start with a big wind chill), and I haven't done speed work in over four months. The last mile is a gradual uphill, so I ran two well-paced 6:50 miles, and then something like a 7:15 or so for the third. Anyway, I was about 10 seconds ahead of Maureen and Rose, two of my teammates, so I really just barely edged them out. I won a pair of Reeboks for holding onto first, though, which is very exciting. The last time I won a pair of shoes was in the Muddy Buddy with Andy two years back! 

5Ks really hurt. I was sucking major wind 1/2 mile into the race, and by the end I began to have those evil, defeatist thoughts, like, "Hmmm. I could just stop. That would end the pain. Who cares if you don't win? Who cares if I'm shamed?" Luckily I didn't listen to that evil inner voice and tried to counter it with singing, Just Put One Foot in Front of the Other from the kids' TV Christmas special, Santa Claus is Coming to Town. You know that show? Dorky, but it works for me. 

My two oldest kids have been taking skating lessons, and they both want to start hockey. I'm excited about this. I love watching hockey--but.... I was a swimmer. I want them to be swimmers too! Weep. We're starting swimming lessons again in Jan, so maybe they'll get the swimming bug back. 

I'm loving reading everyone's blog out there! Please know that if I've put you on the "Blogs I Read" list, I really do read your blog. It's amazing to think of you all training out there, all of the country and far from me. I thought of Flo this morning (who was just bemoaning the temps in the 60's they have there in Hawaii in "winter") as I headed out into the bone chilling, freezing wind and cold for my 5K! Wish I was there....:)