CELT Sprint Race Report

This Sunday I did the CELT Sprint Tri in my hometown in Maine. The big news for me is that I placed third overall! Okay, it was a wicked small race and some of the competition stayed home because it was small and because it was pouring the whole race and a total mudfest on the run, but still. I placed third. And if I were a guy? I would have placed fourth. And I was ninth overall. And I was first in my age group. And I really suffered on the bike for most of it. And I definitely suffered on the muddy slogfest run (which was so fun).

What this says to me is that I need to do a few more small time races. Small time = good time = good place = good feeling. I am a small time girl. haha

Also placing well was Team Triple Threat (also known as Team Wilson/Perez). They placed third in relays--losing only to two all male, totally scary fast corporate teams. Triple Threat consists of scary fast swimmer and best high school buddy Alina, her biker brother Lorenzo, and my hub, the runner.

The report:
I knew it would be a wet one. Hurricane Kyle was passing through town, and he did not disappoint. I was still psyched. The run portion of the race was on grass and trail, and there's nothing more fun than a hugely muddy messy run! I need to take up Xterra. Anyway.

The swim was tame. It was in the high school pool, and only 425 yards. I was, at first, very disappointed. I wanted to be in the first heat with Alina and two very fast women with whom I wanted to compete. They have both won the race in the past, and maybe it is for that reason that they were placed with the relays in the first heat. The rest of the field started in later heats.

It stung to not be considered "good" enough to be placed with these women. I was bummed. However, this did make me determined to race well and really get close to them--if only in time, not person.

Alina's heat, the first one, went off and I cheered for her like mad, and also for Katie and Erin, the two women with whom I wanted to compete. Both Katie and Erin went to high school with Ailna and me, but they are several years older than we are. Great people. Anyway. Alina did her usual thing, kicking everyone else's butt in the pool and making everyone look bad. She finished the 425 yards in 5:15. Pretty awesome. There was another heat of relay people, and then I was off.

There were these two women in my heat that were SO FIT looking, I wanted to cry. I had seen them warm up, and they were amazing swimmers. I tried not to appear too intimated, but man, they were intimidating! When we were off, I didn't even try to stay with them. I lapped the woman in my lane twice, but these two women, swimming one lane over, lapped me almost twice~! Jessie, (I later learned her name), the faster of the two (who I also learned were sisters) finished in under five minutes.

I had a good, strong swim. The only problem is that I wasn't positive I was done at the 425 and I had to pause and scream, "Am I done?" Duh. I finished in just under six minutes, which is a real improvement for me. Last spring I did 400 yards in a race in just over six. My recorded time is 6:15, but that includes the run to T1. I was the 13th fastest swimmer of the day. Alina was the fifth fastest. And yes, that includes the guys!

Onto the bike. I was going to eat this bike leg alive. I was going to suffer. I would not let myself down this time! I did not straddle the bike and start, I mounted like a normal person, swinging my leg over the bike as I began to move. Enough of this granny crap! I bounded up the hill and first off passed those two fast swimmer sisters. Yeah! Take that perfect body people!


A few minutes into the bike I was passed by a guy. This, I decided, would not do. No one would pass me today. That was the rule. I tried to get him back, but basically I just remained behind him by a quarter mile trying to catch him the whole race. At one point I got just close enough to make the pass and he turned to me as I wheezed away and said, "Does my back tire look flat?" The dude wasn't even trying! I coughed out, "No, it's fine." Then he took off again. I think he slowed down just to ask me that!

The rain pelted down on us. It was a Lake Placid 08 kind of day. Relentless, hard rain. I loved it. (Good for a sprint, not for an Ironman, I will add.)

The 14 miles ended almost instantaneously it seemed. It's obviously been awhile since I have done a sprint! I finished in 41:40, which works out to be over 20 mph, and that time also includes most of T1 and T2, so maybe a bit faster than that. Still much slower than I'd like, but better than usual! I was the 21st bike overall, including the dudes.

The run was a blast! I heard Alina, Andy, Erin and Katie cheering for me as I began. They were already done with the race, as they started in the first heat.

It was a slippery, soaking wet mudfest. I continued to trail the guy I tried to catch on the bike for the whole run. It was frustrating. He was just out of my reach. If frustrating for me, it must have been SO annoying for him. At every turn I was right there, like a little pest that wouldn't get away. The trail was tree-rooted and narrow, and it was a little nuts to train and pass anyone anyway, but still, I'm sure he wanted to tell me to leave him the fuck alone! At the end of the race, with a 1/2 mile to go, he'd had enough. He took off. In my head I screamed, Wait! Wait! and I tried to catch him, but to no avail. Oh well. He had been a very good rabbit for almost the entire race. Thanks, buddy! I think his name was Chris. I checked in the results. He placed third for men.

Post race: Andy and Alina were there cheering me in. Such a great feeling. Thanks, guys! They stayed and chatted with me in the rain. I then found my rabbit and thanked him, and he was very gracious and smiley. Best of all, Jessie, the woman of perfect body and scary fast swimming fame, found me. She asked if I had been at Lobsterman, she thought she had seen me there, etc. Then she said, "YOU ARE AN AWESOME BIKER." I was stunned. Then I thought, well yes, I AM faster than you, of course. But it still felt good. She was scarily intimidating at the start of the race, I had beat her by A LOT, and she thought I was a good biker! This made my day. haha!

A great race.

Here are a few pics:





Andy on the run. It was WET. I believe the hub has quite enviable quads.

and Me on the run.










Andy and me--all smiles after a good, wet race.

















Talking to the man who placed third, who I tried to catch the whole race, but who I, alas, never did. The trickster had another gear that he shifted into in the last 1/2 mile. I did not.


The legs looked much worse up close! Really!

Advice

Many people don't like unsolicited advice. I do. My assumption is that most people know more than me, and even if they don't know more than me, I still enjoy hearing what people think. Strange, I know. I think it may be that when people give me advice they are paying attention to me (or so I believe) and I like attention.

anyway.

Here are the arenas in which I would like advice:

the belly
the scale
gearing
sports drink spillage
jobs

Let's start with the belly. I will begin by saying that I am not a psycho chick who feels she must be absolutely perfect in every way in order to be worthy. I like my body. It's a good body. That said, I am having a little issue with my belly. It won't get smaller. My whole body is small, but not my belly. My belly is bigger than my ass, and definitely bigger than my chest. I am an inverted hour glass. What is UP WITH THAT?

So, I need advice on how to get rid of the belly. I realize it has to do, in part, with genetics, and with the fact that I had bore three children close together and there is extra skin there now. However, I also know that there are PLENTY of women out there who don't have perfect genes in terms of bellies and who had at least three children and they are sporting beautiful, toned, athletic looking joes. I realize the answer to this is probably just GO ON A DIET, fool. Still, all advice is welcome, even that advice. I may just need a kick in the pants.

Scale. Perhaps one of the problems pertaining to problem number 1 is that I don't own a scale. I used to belong to a gym, which I left awhile back, and it is there I weighed myself. This worked out well because I only weighed myself like twice a month, and so was therefore able to track my weight without getting all neurotic and weighing myself 20 times a day. After thinking about it, I believe I am ready to purchase a scale and coexist with it. I think. Any advice as to which scale I should get? I'm curious to hear how you people with those FANCY body fat/hydration etc scales fare.

Gearing.
This is connected to my last post. I went through a cassette in three months by riding with a worn out chain and by cross-chaining. I think that's what it's called, anyway. I'm curious to hear how other people live without spending tons of times in the baby gears of the big ring. How do I correct this bad habit? That is my question. I am especially interested in book recommendations/classes on the topic of biking technique and maintenance in general, as I learn best by reading about things and in a school atmosphere.

Sports Drink Spillage:
All the people who have worked on my bike have commented that I have a lot (as in more than other people) of sports drink guck on the front of my bike. I try to clean my bike of said guck after every ride, but apparently I suck at it, because it is everywhere, all the time. I want to know 1) how do people keep their aerobottles from spraying sports drink everywhere? When my aerobottle is full it sprays in the wind, even with the cap on. When I go over a bump in the road, it spills over me and the bike. How do people prevent this? And when it happens, with what do I clean it to get it off?

Jobs:
Here's what I want to know. Is it a common, normal, everyday thing to be bored with your work? How many people out there feel satisfied with their job, and how many pine for something better/more meaningful/more SOMETHING? I want to know because I think I may just be a brat who wants to be engaged all of the time, and gets impatient and grumpy when a job turns out to be--well, a job. I figure if everyone is bored, and they just deal with it, I should probably just suck it up and deal with too.

Please advise away.

This Sport is SO Expensive and other thoughts

I took Black Beauty, my bike, into the shop after my LONG BRICK on Tuesday. She needed some help. I knew my tires were spent. I've been riding on them since February and averaging over 100 miles a week on the bike. I also knew that I needed a basic tune-up. She's been skipping gears all over the place lately. So I took her in. Quick check up. No problem.

Right. I am new to biking, and I have not yet adjusted to the fact that you must treat your bike like you do your car. You know what I'm saying; if you don't take care of your car--get the oil changed, get it tuned up according to the manufacturer's schedule, do not let it go when you know something's wrong it--you shorten its life and you end up creating expensive problems that could've been avoided had you taken preventive measures. Kind of like health. Kind of like life. Kind of like EVERYTHING.

Well. I guess I have been a bit remiss in taking care of my little Felt. First, I've not changed the chain since I got her. I guess you're supposed to change your chain every 1500 miles or so. That would've been in, hmmmm, MAY. Because I didn't change my chain, my chain damaged my cassette, so that's spent too. And the tires. Need new tires.

All that doesn't include the basic tune-up that I also need.

Damn!
I have been lobbying to get carbon wheels, and the chunk of change needed to spiff up the old/new bike is not going to help my cause.

In other news I think I am losing my short term memory. really.
more on this in my next post.

"I'm feelin' good from my head to my shoes

"Know where I'm goin' and I know what to do
I tidied up my point of view
I got a new attitude!"

Forgive me for quoting Patti LaBelle.
It had to be done. I hope I didn't lose any readers...

So. I have been doing some thinking.
It started with the word suffer, a word with which I have few dealings with in my life, continued into my race this weekend and conversations with Claire, continued further still when reading Bree Wee's blogand ended with a quick conversation with Jen via email.

I realize new attitudes aren't created overnight, so I will qualify this by saying that I don't actually have a bonafide new attitude. Let's say, though, that I think I get something I didn't get before. It's not even really a matter of some earth shattering new way of viewing things. It actually is, as my dear friend Patti says, a tidying up of a point of view.

I love running. and triathlon. and I love racing.
But that's not enough.

My expectations of what triathlon will provide me expanded this year. I decided to GET SERIOUS, man. No fucking around. And with that I expected nothing short of miracles. Isn't that what it takes? Extreme dedication? Getting the workouts done?

Yes. But that's not all it takes. It takes a willingness to think and be a certain way. There is little--actually there is NO--room for self deprecation for the sake of humor, or the sake of anything, really. There is no room to let yourself believe you deserve a break. There is no room to lament how tired you are and how grumpy you feel that you get up every damn morning when the people around you sleep in like old dogs. There is no room to feel sorry for yourself. There is no room to admit that you're not actually sure you LIKE what you're doing.

Ange talked awhile back about silencing her lazy demon when she races. I remember thinking that her lazy demon was likely a weakling and that my lazy demon could take her lazy demon down so fast it wouldn't even be funny. But maybe that's not true. Maybe she just makes her mind so uninviting to the lazy demon that she can control his appearance, in a race, or any time. And I can't. Or I haven't.

I have been indulging my thoughts of tiredness, of disappointment, of fear, of anger, of lack of motivation, of jealousy. I write about them. I think about them. I analyze them. I let them hang around.

This is not want superior athletes do. Superior athletes shut down these thoughts. They do not indulge. They don't don't lament losing a Tuesday to a LONG BRICK, because the idea of losing or lamenting anything having to do with the sport is SHUNNED. Done. Not invited. The thought is replaced by thoughts like, I CAN train, I'm psyched to train, I'm ready to train. I AM ALL ABOUT THE LONG BRICK. GRRRRRRRRRR.

It's cognitive restructuring. Right, Alina?

And I need to start doing it.

It is quite possible that the aspect of my personality that has indulged these thoughts has prevented me, thus far, from maximizing my potential. Not just in triathlon.
In life.
Maybe that's dramatic, but I think I'm onto something here.

Lobsterman Pictures

Tuesdays. My Day Off

You may recall that last week I pondered what to do with my new, special free time on Tuesdays, which I now have off from work. Six hours all for me....kids in school, no work...

What was I thinking? I knew then and know now what I will be doing every Tuesday from now until Clearwater, and from Clearwater until Lake Placid 2009.

The LONG BRICK.

you know. The one that takes all day.

Today's workout: Four hours on the bike. Forty minute run. Time leftover after getting ready, getting going, going, going, going, recovering with chocolate milk, showering, and preparing for tomorrow's workouts, which must be planned for right now because I DO work tomorrow:

zero.

Not even a little laundry time, my friends. What have I done?

In other news, on my long ride today I saw a friend riding in the other direction. I haven't see said friend in a few months. He turned around, caught me, and we got caught up for a few. He introduced me to his friend, Richie. Richie looked familiar. How did I know him?

As they rode away it came to me.
Richie Cunningham. I should have figured it out when he said he was also training for Clearwater. Duh.
I wanted to come home and email all my friends about how I had just chatted with a superstar triathlete.
But then I remembered that no one, except for possibly you out there, would care!
haha!

Lobsterman Oly Race Report

The quick synopsis: Super fast swim. Was it the current? Tipped over on bike after dropping my chain. That is right. I tipped over. Killed myself on the run. I really SUFFERED. (right, Jen?) Placed 4th in AG, but they gave me third for the usual reason: Ange was in the top three and therefore freed up a spot. Overall a very good race for me. Much better than last year, at which it poured and I had to run with frozen stumps of feet for miles before I began to thaw. ___________________________________ The Long Version It was cold and spitting rain when I finally got on the road on Friday night. I had a sick feeling. Would I have to repeat last year's race experience at Lobsterman in which I could not feel my feet until four miles into the run? I pondered this until about Burlington, where I stopped to pick up Claire. We grabbed some dinner (on Claire, thanks!) and then headed up to Maine. Claire didn't complain that I drove like an old lady in the right lane at like 55 mph. I drive a bit like I bike, I'm afraid. We chatted and the time passed quickly. We arrived at my parents' and went right to bed as we had an early start the next morning. I slept like a baby, but Claire slept in the guest room downstairs, which has a SUPER loud grandfather clock outside it that chimes every 15 minutes. oops. Should have shut that annoying thing off. Needless to say, Claire's sleep wasn't as sound as mine...This, combined with the fact that the race people wouldn't let her wear her new, pointy, but also European helmet on the bike course, is probably why she didn't have the very fastest female bike split of the day. She was still close, though. We rose way too early and headed to Freeport. I didn't know exactly where to go, even though I had raced there last year, but I figured we just find a car with a bike on its back and we'd be all set. We made it there. All good. On the journey I sipped my pre-race drink, coffee, and ate a peanut butter sandwich. I also choked down part of a banana. I never want to eat before I race. Too nervous. But I knew I would need the fuel if I wanted to kick ass. And I did. Want to kick ass. really badly. I needed a good race, especially a good RUN, after Timberman. We registered and set up in transition and all that good stuff. I talked to all my good Maine friends and began to pity myself that I didn't live up there with them, close to the pine trees and the moose and the butt cold ocean that I love so, so much. sigh. Onward. The swim was in this very calm cove. The water temperature was only about 60 degrees, but I thought it was fine. I like swimming in cold water like I like running in cold weather. Better cold than hot,that's my opinion. Anyway. Last year at this race the current totally messed with me. I got off course and had to fight my way back. This year? All in the swimmers' favor. We zipped right out to that first buoy and it was smooth sailing after that. Our times were so fast (in general, the swimmers' times all around) that at first I thought they must have changed the course from last year. Actually, though, I think it was all the current. The race last year began at 11am. This year it began at 8:45 am. That must have something to do with it. I have been working on speed in the pool, and I really felt that during this swim. I pushed it the whole time, and this is very unlike me. Usually I push hard, let up, and then push again at the end. I sighted off a girl in my wave. I'm still not sure who it was, though I suspect it was one of my rivals (who doesn't know she is one of my rivals, I'm sure; a woman who has beaten me every race in Maine this season, but who I will catch next year! I swear!) As I left the water I heard a friend of mine who wasn't racing shout, "Great swim, Mary! You're close to Ange!" I snorted, and I heard him chuckle. We both knew this was a big, fat lie! Very funny, Steve! Onto to the bike. I was really dizzy coming out of the water; more dizzy than usual. I actually had to hold onto the bike rack to brace myself because I thought I was going to tip over. Luckily, I did not tip, nor did I take the bike rack down trying to balance. I did tip later on, off my bike and when on the bike course, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I finally stripped off my wetsuit, got on all of my various biking accoutrements, and then I was off. Shakily, but still off. I mounted in my usual granny fashion --straddle the bike, clip in, push off. The bike leg. My perennial problem. My reason for sometimes wanting to through in the towel. Argh. My goal for the bike leg was to suffer. I am, by nature, a loafer on the bike, and this time I was NOT going to be. Anytime I was breathing easily, I would push harder. That was the plan. As it turns out, I had a hard time with this. I worked hard, but not hard enough I don't think, through the first 10 miles. Then I started to fade. My quads were burning and I began to worry that my run was going to suffer. I tried to talk to myself by saying things like, "Stop thinking! Just suffer! Go!" But it didn't really work. Then I hit a stretch of big, steep hills at about mile 15. The course is hilly in general, but his stretch was especially annoying. And that's when it happened. I was beginning to ascend a large hill and I decided I needed to swtich to the baby ring. I did so, and I felt the chain loosen. fuck. At Mooseman when this happened I hopped right off the bike, fixed it and got going. This time I decided to see if I could keep pedaling and have it catch again. nope. no luck. It sounded horrible as I tried to pedal, like I was seriously doing damage to my bike. And then the pedals locked. Totally frozen, and I began to tip.... At the last moment I was able to unclip on the right, and so caught myself from slamming to the ground by being in a big squat. Then I rolled over, the bike on top of me. I admit it. I just laid there for a second. I looked at the sky, took a big breath, and unclipped my left foot. I rolled the bike off me and began to inspect the damage. The chain was totally jammed up between the crank and the ??? part of the bike that is near the crank. I tried over and over to push it down to get it free. Meanwhile people zoomed by me. Agh! Finally I freed it and reset it on the small ring. My hands were black with grease and they hurt from slamming the ground from the rollover/fall. No time to think. I got back on the bike, and slowly made my way up the rest of the hill. The rest of the bike was uneventful, but I was deflated. I knew I had lots several minutes. I was bummed. I vowed to make it up on the run. The run: In transition I saw Claire, who had started the wave behind me but had still caught me. I wasn't surprised by this, but it did motivate me more. How much time would I have to make up on the run to still beat Claire? Three, duh. A lot. I had to get moving! I began the run angry. I hadn't suffered on the bike. I had fucked up the bike yet again. I would KILL myself on this run. I would have a screaming run split. The run was hilly--more hilly then I had remembered. Still, I felt strong, if heavy with bike legs. My first mile was slow--a 7:38. I had to pick up this pace. 7:38's would not do. More than anything I wanted to match my run split from last year which was a 44:45. So far, I wasn't close to being on track. I picked up the pace and felt increasingly strong. I decided I would get faster every mile if it killed me. I managed to do this for the next three miles. Mile 5 was slower, but mile 6 was mostly downhill and the fastest of the day. I didn't match my run split of last year, but I wasn't that far off. My running has been so poor lately, that being that close was very welcome! When I finished the race I found Ange immediately and held out my hands, palms up. "What happened?" she said. I realized they (my hands) were nothing terrible to look at. They were dirty, sure, and red, but basically unscathed. "I fell," I whimpered. She gave me a hug and said, "Oh, they look swollen." They didn't. But I felt swollen and I had a lump in my throat, and it was comforting that she was there and that she worried. Thanks, Ange. "Did you win?" I asked. She was second. She had had a good race. Final splits: swim: 17:45 26/450 bike: 1:14:20 168/450 run: 45:47 84/450 OA 81/450 4th AG Stay tunned for a boring and detailed analysis of last year's results compared to this year's--and also the post race goodies!

Time. Dealing with it.

Time is a big factor in my life. I know it is a factor with everyone, but right now I'm talking about ME.
Today I had off. I will have every Tuesday off this year. My kids are in school for six straight hours, and I will have that six hours every single Tuesday until June.

Today, this panicked me. I have been so starved for time for so long, I didn't know what to do. Should I do laundry? Should I clean? no no. It's supposed to be Me time to unwind and get just a few things done, right? But won't I hate myself if I am busy later because I wasn't totally efficient now? Oh, the angst. It's going to take me awhile to figure this one out. I am happy about the problem, of course. Having time is good.

Here's what I did:
changed and made doctor's appointments for the kids.
changed the sheets on the mattresses on the floor.
worked out for 1.5 hours.
laundry
folding
ate a peanut butter sandwich and read blogs.
Stared at the wall.
Stared at the lawn through the window (it's pouring) and tried to figure out what plants to dig and save and what plants to leave in the ground for the landscapers, who hopefully we will hire and will come someday, to bulldoze away.
Pet my dogs.
Tried to clean the bathroom. That was stupid b/c the construction people came in and got it all sawdusty and dirty again 10 minutes later.
Made reservations for a weekend away with Andy in January.
Thought about all the people I should be in contact with, and that I am not.
Made a list of all the things I need to get done.


That was my day. I must get the kids in 15 minutes.
I need to contemplate whether this was a well spent day,or not.
I had high hopes for it, and it seems I have fallen short.

In other news. I have a race this weekend and I am UNEASY. I have been working on speed in the pool and the run. My bike? Well, I'm not so sure how that will go. Today I was to do an hour ride with a fast 20 min at the end of it. Unfortunately, I kept forgetting I was supposed to be working hard. This is a problem. I would crank! And then start thinking about how I had to call to change my dentist appt or how it would be nice to get a massage, and the next thing you know I am in loaf city. Mental note: work on this, Mary.

In still other news. Everyone that did the PumpkinMan Half Iron this weekend (that I know) did AWESOME. This should make me feel good. Okay. Well, it doesn't. It makes me jealous. I have heard *rumors* that perhaps the bike and the run were both short at PumpkinMan. This could explain why most people I know bettered their Timberman times by like a HALF FUCKING HOUR.

But I'm not bitter or anything. Really. I am a very kind, rational, giving person who wants everyone to do well and feel great. Not all course are the same. That's just the way it is. Doing Bay State Marathon is not like doing Mt Desert, for example.

But okay, it does just piss me right off that in Triathlon World many race directors can't seem to measure! How fucking hard is it to take your Garmin out and just measure the right mileage? I understand it's hard for the swim. But for the bike and run? Road race directors are nearly always dead on. They have to be. USATF will not certify an event unless it has been measured accurately. So what's up with USAT? Why do they certify fucking everything, even if it is clearly, clearly, OFF--by like MILES?

And that's my beef of the day.

Now that I have some time off, I have a feeling I will be beefing more often.

Tired Legs, Tired Brain, Tired Tired Tired

But happy.
I think.
We went away this weekend to celebrate my in-laws' 50th Wedding Anniversary. My mom in law has been very sick this whole summer; we canceled planned family trips to Idaho and Cape Cod because she couldn't be with us on those trips. The fact that she could make this trip made it very special. We had a really nice, expensive dinner at some super fancy restaurant to celebrate, and I ate all sorts of no no foods like real butter and bread and cheese and cake and wine.

This week was hard. We are still in one room. I am still living covered in plaster dust. I am still new to my new job. I am still pretty sure that my new job is only a band-aid job and there is much soul-searching needed to be done in order to figure that piece of my life out. My kids have started school and I am on duty to pick up and launder and make lunches and help with homework and love them even when they are super cranky at the end of a long school day.

And I am competing in two months in Clearwater.

You should see the five beautiful monster stress zits on my face.
And last night I dreamed I was swimming in the ocean and got impaled on a banana buoy--a buoy that only existed in my dream--made of iron and extending to the sea floor. No one in the dream understood that I was dead and couldn't plan the funeral.

Yikes. Analyze that one.

I'm Back

Well, sort of.
I'm not 100% back, but I'm getting there! The week after Timberman I did practically nothing. This week, though, I got in some great workouts, and though most were quite short, I think they were quality.

When I feel burnt out I've realized that the first thing to go is the bike. I want to like biking. Actually, I guess I do like biking, and that's the problem. I don't LOVE biking. I don't miss biking. I don't feel compelled to bike unless the plan says BIKE.

This is not true of swimming, and it's definitely not true of running. I love swimming--especially doing short intervals in the pool. I love fun bathing suits, the fact that pool workouts usually don't last more than an hour, the fact that I am a pretty good swimmer and I pretty much know what I am doing.

I feel less competent as a runner than a swimmer, but running is still number one in my heart. I feel completely out of sorts when I can't or don't run. I am working on being a triathlete, but I know I have the heart of a runner.

This is not to say that I love running when I am actually doing it. Often I want to stop when I am running-- often I feel pain, often I look at my watch in hopes the run will soon be over. But the feeling running leaves me with is fantastic. Also, I love the ease of getting ready for running. It's so simple! You can do it anywhere and you only need a good pair of running shoes, shorts, and a running bra to do it. Running is simple, pure and raw. It is hard. It hurts even when you take it easy.

Biking is so much more labor intensive. You really have to plan for the bike. You cover a lot of ground on the bike, so you must plan routes. Before you go out you need to have a good pair of biking shorts, a good helmet, your biking shoes, a bento box with gu or food, water bottles mixed with the right drink, a clean aero bottle in which to put said drink, you need to pump your tires and make sure you have an extra tube, co2 cartridge, lever thing to take your tire off, you cell phone, directions, extra cash, and ID.

Agh! PITA! Nothing is simple in biking. And then there's always the chance that when you're out there the route you've chosen won't be riding worthy, or that you'll flat and spend 20 minutes trying in vain to change your tire.

Most importantly, though, I'm just not that interested in biking. I read book after book on running--but I have yet to finish a book on bike training. I love to compete in road races, but I'm not really interested in racing my bike in a time trial or something. I'm obsessed with the fact that my run split was so stinky at Timberman, yet I actually placed MUCH lower on the bike, and I'm not bothered at all at that!

Anyway. Someday I may learn to love the bike. Or, if I don't, I may return to just being a runner who swims to cross train. We shall see.
--------------------------------------
Today is Labor Day--the official last day of summer, and the last day of my living in Maine. The car is packed, and after a last few hours of beach in the afternoon, we are off to Boston and back to the one room living.
I haven't even left yet and I'm already mourning. It has been a great summer. I have missed the hub, and I have been living out of bags for two months, but it has still been awesome. I love Maine. Someday, someday, I will move back here with the hub. and the kids. I hope. I really feel like it's where we belong. (Or, I should say, it's where I belong, and I want to drag everyone along with me!!)

Goodbye summer!
Goodbye Maine.

One Room Living

There is a photograph by the famous photographer Lewis Hine that I have been thinking about all week. For those of you not familiar with his work, Hine worked during the early 1900s capturing images of tenement life in NYC, of child labor, and later on of mining life, life of the steel workers in the 1930s, and life in rural TN. His work is amazing. He also captured the building of the Empire State Building. He photographed these men on break from their work in the early 1930s.

So. This photo on my mind. It is of an immigrant family living in the New York City Tenements in the early 1900s--likely between 1906-08, which is when Hine was working and photographing there. It's a powerful image; there are seven people in the family, and they are living in one small room. They are smiling in the photograph, or at least the children are. The "facilities" were outside in an alley, as was a communal sink. Obviously this latter info was not in the photo--I just remember reading about it. The photo on its own is both devastating and uplifting, if that's possible. Upon looking at it you think about how much people can withstand, and how much we take for granted in our modern, comfortable, middle class lives.

This week I have lived in one room with my husband, three kids and two big dogs. I will live this way for awhile, it seems! At first I was just overwrought. How can I do this? But last night as I listened to my children's heavy breathing as they slept, smelled my old dog's stinky farts she busily emitted from beneath our bed, and looked over at the glowing computer screen that was doing duty as a night light, I was at peace. It's okay. It could be so much worse. I am NOT LIVING IN THAT PHOTOGRAPH, but like the family in that photograph, I can make the best of this. Hell, if they can, I certainly can! At least I don't have to shit in an public alley or wash my body and my dishes in a sink used by thirty other tenement families!




This one by Hine is of tenement boys taking time off their street jobs to play a pick-up game of ball with materials found on the street. This one, too, makes me think. My kids are in heaven right now--the irony! They love living in one room, they love our construction site lawn, they love finding inappropriate things to play with and using them in their games. I know it's cliche and trite to say, but kids don't need that much to make them happy. Food in their bellies, love from parents or caretakers, education, other kids with whom to make up games. (And actually, the boys in the photo probably didn't always have food in their bellies, and definitely didn't have education, which though available, was not usually possible as they were needed by their families to work.) They didn't have their own rooms with their own toys and 8 million after school lessons and the perfect, manicured lawn with a soccer goal and a basketball hoop. Know what I mean?

In short, it will be fine.

___________________________________

In tri world:

I've done some GREAT swimming workouts this week. Thanks, Jen! They are tough, and fun, and keep me focused. I'm loving swimming more than I ever have.

Too bad triathlon is really all about the bike and the run!!! ha ha.

How I Got A Spot

Okay. Here's what happened.
There were, supposedly, only two spots allotted to the 35-39 women. I placed 6th. No chance. I went to roll down anyway, because you never know.

First up. Our AG got three spots, not two. I think this had to do with the projected number of athletes in our AG being different than the actual number that competed.

Ange got her spot right away, because she had finished first. I tried not to be too jealous. The second in our AG (Abby Dean) did not want a spot. By the way, I noted that Abby Dean was not only 2nd in our AG, she also competed in the Olympic Marathon Trials this year in Boston. Wow. Okay. Moving onward. Numbers 3 and 4, two women who I know and whom I thought would likely beat me, decided to take the spots. Game over. I slumped away, dejected.

Ange and I hung out awhile longer, then said our goodbyes and she got on the road. I couldn't leave yet, though. You see, I had these WHEELS. That's right. I rented race wheels from a company out in CA. The night before the race, I received an email from the man from whom I rented them that he needed me to hand them off to Michael Lovato (right, that Michael Lovato) who would take them with him to Ironman Canada. I learned that Michael placed fourth overall, and would therefore be receiving some cash, so I figured he would likely be at the awards ceremony, and I'd hand off the wheels there.

So I'm walking around with these WHEELS and asking around to see if anyone knows or has seen this Lovato character (I even asked Chrissie Wellington! Isn't it true that all famous people know each other???)

And then I heard it.

"We have three more female spots for Clearwater. If you want one, come forward!"

I dropped those race wheels and came running. Unfortunately, however, they weren't just handing out the spots to the first come first served. First they asked if there were any 40-44 women who wanted a spot, as they had the most competitors in their group. A few raised hands. The woman with the fastest time in 40-44 that had raised her hand was given the spot. One down. Then they did the same for the 30-34 age groupers. Two down. Then they asked the 35-39ers. Me me me! I waved my hand. (Yes, I was obnoxious.) They made us each give our times. And I was the fastest, baby. By a lot.

Yahoo! I jumped up and down. Later, Andy told me I was less than gracious about the whole thing. I would feel bad, except, well, I don't. I worked my ass off for that 5:20 God Damn it!

So that's the story.

In other news. I am STRESSED OUT. Here's why:

I have three kids under the age of seven.
Today I started a new job.
We are having our house remodeled, and so therefore we must live for the next month in one room (all five of us and two big labs) and one bathroom alongside plaster dust, band saws, tools, nails and construction workers. And did I mention one of my kids is a SON who is FOUR and who dreams of being a construction man?
I am competing in a half ironman in three months.
I can't find any of my shoes or work clothing. It was all packed away, and cannot be found.

I am a WRECK.

Timberman 70.3 Race Report

Ange and Me--nervous before the swim.

The Cliff Note Version of the RR:
We will both go on to qualify for Clearwater. Ange will go on to break five and crush our entire AG. I will go on to have a great swim, and a pretty solid bike and then.........................

then slower,slower, slooooowwwwwwer, sloooooooooowwwwwwwwer, painnnnnnnnnnnnn on the run.

The Long Version of the RR:

Andy and I stayed at the luxurious Super 8 in Tilton the night before, which is a good half hour from the race start. So we got up around 4:15 a.m. in order to make it to the race site by 5:15. No one should be up that early. It's just not right. Anyway, luckily the Super 8 is right next to a 24 hour McDonald's, so I was able to get some coffee and Andy a very healthy Egg McMuffin Meal before the day began.

I, as expected, was a bundle of nerves and no fun to be around. However, I was definitely less scared than I had been the year before. On the drive to the race start the year before I felt like I was headed to meet the Grim Reaper, and by the time we began walking to the beach to begin, I felt like I did when I was told I would be having my first baby by C-Section, RIGHT NOW. Total panic-ville. But this year I was calmer. Last week I watched Jonathan something something--a US Olympian gymnast say that he was able to calm down before competing by telling himself it was "just another day of gymnastics." So I just kept repeating that to myself--Just another day of gymnastics. Just another day of gymnastics. I know you're thinking I should have replaced the word gymnastics with the word triathlon, but frankly, that word made my heart pound wickedly, so I didn't.

I went straight to the porta-potties when I got to the race site because I noted there wasn't really a line yet. The result of the porta potty trip wasn't satisfactory, so I knew I would have to make another trip--or three-before the race began. I found Ange in transition. We chatted and tried to stay calm. Then I went back to the porta potties to wait in line again. When I finished going to the bathroom I simply walked out of the john and got in line again. It was a good 20 minute wait, and I knew where I'd want to be in 20 minutes. So that was my early morning. In line, smelling the sweet wholesome goodness of porta potties filling up with pre-race jittery shit.

I exited the bathroom just as they were closing transition. I raced in, grabbed my wetsuit, cap and goggles, and headed to the beach. Ange and I were wave 10, so it would be awhile before we began.

The time actually went really fast. I took in a Gu and chatted nervously with the women around me. Finally we entered the water. I got right up to the front and to the right. Ange was right next to me. We said good luck to each other about ten times. I felt as if I would never see her again--as if we were both going on some long, long trip--and it was questionable whether we would both survive to see each other again. I almost felt sad. Weird, huh?



And then we were off! Ahhh! Finally I could let go of all of my worry and just go! My first ten strokes were so light--I felt I was just skimming the water's surface. Ten more strokes and that party was over. My breathing was labored. I had to keep trying to separate myself from a girl swimming exactly parallel to me who kept clonking me on the arms. I almost smashed straight into the second buoy instead of swimming by it. Argh. Here we go!

The water was warm. I felt I must be sweating and I suddenly felt thirsty thinking about it. Fuck. It was going to be a warm day. The morning had been cool, but I knew the heat was coming. There was no denying that now.

There were a lot of buoys. I kept thinking this MUST be the buoy we turn at to head into shore, but no, it was just another little one, ushering us deeper and farther into the lake. Finally I saw the BIG orange triangle ahead and Yes! people were turning!

I was now mixed in thoroughly with the stragglers from previous waves. The caps were mostly pink and light green--the two waves before us--but there were a few yellows too--women who had started 20 minutes before us. Wow. That's a long swim for them...
Then I saw the beach. THE BEACH! and then it hit me again, the beach... no... not the beach! I wasn't ready for the swim to be over. I love the swim. I am fast in the swim. I am not sucking wind violently in the swim! I feel good--don't put me on that damn bike! no!

But the swim always ends. At moments like that I think Alina has it just right. Why do the other two disciplines when I love the swim the most?

I stumbled out of the water. I began my run to transition. I hard Mark (Ange's Mark) and the hub. shout--Go Mary! The run was a single file path, and these two women from previous waves were ahead of me. I was, at first, polite, but then I said Excuse ME! very loudly and shouldered my way past. Don't yet hate that? Stay to the right if you sense someone wants to pass you! For crying out loud!

Anyway. Swim Ranking:
32:22
5/101 in AG
153/1900 OA (not sure how many competitors--I head about 1900 actually competed.)

T1 was fine. No major mishaps. The run to the bike could've been faster, that's all. T1 time: 2:29. Rank: 12/101 in AG

The bike. The course starts out hilly, then gets really hilly, and then flattens out a bit for a nice, pleasant middle portion. Unfortunately, you must repeat the hilly portion that you began with at the end, as it's an out and back type of thing. This is a big fat, bummer. In the last 10 miles of the bike you just want to grind it out and get it done. This course forces you to slow down and contemplate the fact that your average miles per hour is getting SLOWER. argh!

56 miles is a long way in my book. I had moments where I thought, God! This is taking for f-ing ever! I am only at mile bleep bleep! You must be kidding me!



I rode with two men the whole way. One was short and dark with a nice silver Cervelo. He didn't look at me once, even though we played cat and mouse the entire ride. Because this was an Ironman event we had our names on our bibs. I think this guy's name was Iain. I spent several 20 second bursts passing him, but I still can't be sure I was reading it right. I wanted to ask, but he seemed pretty intent on ignoring me. The other guy was wicked tall and rode a bright yellow bike. Every time he passed me I thought, Man! He is twice the height I am on my bike! I couldn't make out his name because his bib was turned around, but he was pleasant and he smiled a few times as he passed or I passed.

I passed many, many women on the ride, which was nice. This is, of course, because I was a part of the last female swim wave. There literally were no women behind me except those in my wave. Two 35-39 AG women passed me early in the bike. One of them was named Robyn and the other Laura(I read their bibs). I made a mental note to try to catch them on the run.

The bike ended FINALLY. I averaged 19.3 mph. My goal had been 19.5-- so pretty close. I had forgotten how hilly the first and last 10 miles of the ride was, so I was still pretty pleased with my ride.

Bike stats: 2:54:19
10/101 AG
543/1900 OA

T2 was FAST! I got in and out of there in 1:35. I was pretty psyched about that.
T2 rank: 2/101 AG

The run. I knew from the minute I got onto the course that it was going to be a tough one. It was hot. Actually, it wasn't that hot. I think it was in the mid to upper 80's in the sun. Here in New England, though, we have had two weeks straight of misty, cool wet. My body was not acclimated to nor happy about the heat.

I tried to take in a Gu. Uck. I did it, but I felt sick. About two miles into the run I passed Robyn. One down. About 2.5 miles in I passed Laura. How many were still ahead of me? Ange, of course, but how many more?



At the turn around I saw Mark and Andy. They were loud and encouraging--but at this point I felt like absolute ass. I was slowing with every mile. I decided my goal for the second loop would be to just not walk. I heard Jesse, Cait, Pat, Courtney and Chrissie, my QT2 team, cheering me as I went through the first loop too. I tried not to look as bad as I felt.

During the second loop I spent a lot of time just telling myself I was doing great, that whatever happened was fine, and that I just had to finish. I could feel blood blisters forming on the sides of my big toes. They squished in my shoes. Argh. It was becoming a definite, bona fide sufferfest. Good bye hopes of 5:15!

I was so happy when I made the turn to finish, I wanted to holler aloud. I didn't have the umph to do that though, so I just kept trudging. At the end I duked it out with a 40-44 women. She was awesome and just wouldn't let me pass. It kept me moving. Thank you, woman, whoever you are!

Final run time: 1:50:03 8:24 pace. (LAME x 1000)
rank: 8/101 in AG
363/1900 OA

Final overall stats:
6/101 AG
47/449 females OA
36/424 female amateurs
348/1900 Overall

The End.
Details of getting a Clearwater Slot in my next post!

I'm Going to Clearwater!

Timberman 70.3
5:20:44
6th AG

Great swim, good bike, shitty run. More details to follow.

Summer--Hanging On

I used up all of my profoundity on my last post. Sorry. Here are some photos of the summer to tide you over as you wait for my next super duper deep and meaningful entry.

Me, Ange, Alina


Super Fit Moms at the Beach






































Is this the right carb. to protein ratio?































Get in the water, NOW!























Noah: Head in the Sand






























Lara: the Height of Summer Fashion

I"ve Been Thinking Way Too Much

I’ve been offline for more than a week. It was, at first, rather difficult. I wondered what everyone was up to, how Speedy Claire did at Vineman, whether my favorite blogs to read had been updated and I was missing out. Then I noted that the internet satisfies my need to know things immediately. Questions that popped into my head could not be immediately satisfied. When will the triathletes compete during the Olympics? Who is that author I have read all of and who I know has a new book out, but whose name escapes me? What will the weather be tomorrow? What’s the name of that strange black duck floating on the ocean’s surface—the one who swims in packs and isn’t a loon or a cormorant? (An Eider Duck, it turns out—though I had to look it up in Peterson’s Guide to find out). That type of thing. I also was unable to take care of everyday life business. I have a list a mile long of things I must do when I get online again.

Nevertheless, after several days I became used to it, and I noticed that the sense of urgency and anxiety I carry around with me settled a little bit as a result. The irony is that when we are online we are sedentary and staring numbly at a screen, but that without the internet our minds, if not our bodies, slow down. We can’t know everything immediately and so there is reduced information intake. This is quieting. Life has gone on without us, without me. What’s good to remember, I’m realizing, is that life continues, inexorably and evenly, whether I attend to it or not. Acknowledging this fact is both freeing and morbid.

Okay. I’ll shut up now.

Timberman 70.3, the A RACE, is next weekend. I’ve been trying to put things into perspective. This has taken the form of ironing out why I do triathlon in the first place, and what this race means to me in particular.

My first conclusion:

This race doesn’t mean anything in particular. It is not the sum of everything I’ve done this year. I know it’s a total cliché to say that it’s the journey, not the arrival, that matters, but for me, I think, that it what I’m actually learning. This season I’ve had fun at every race (except perhaps booting at Mooseman), I’ve loved my training, the friends I’ve made, the community I’ve built around me here in Maine, the courage I’ve mustered in order to make these friends and build this community, getting closer to Ange and Alina around the common love of sport, testing myself day after day, and relishing what I’ve trained my body to do. I will have a great day at Timberman no matter what happens, because the race will be a celebration of the discipline and courage I’ve developed in order to make it to the starting line in the first place. I expect that if I don’t flat or crash or trip or something like that, I will crush my time from last year and I will have fun doing it. And if I don’t crush my time from last year, I’m not even sure I will be overly disappointed. How can I be disappointed with the result of one day’s race after the incredible fun and success I’ve experienced this season? This may sound as if I am mentally preparing myself to fail. Actually, I’m mentally training myself to keep the result of any race—this race-- in perspective. It’s impossible to keep it fun if you put too much stock in a single performance—if you give it power and meaning greater than the days that lead you there in the first place.

My second conclusion:

I arrived at conclusion number one by really working at the why of my need and desire to do triathlon. Many people claim to do triathlon because they want to see how far they can “take” their bodies. Some people say they do it because it requires one to maintain a positive, healthy lifestyle. Some people do it because they need a home for their obsession/ compulsion or addiction, and triathlon fits the bill. Some people claim to do it because it forces them to confront pain head it. There are a billion reasons one might do it, I guess. I do triathlon (and before that running) for several reasons, but at core there is one reason that dominates.

Working my body day after day silences, or at least quiets, my critic. I think most people have a critic. He lives inside us and gnaws away. For me, the critic is this core, unshakeable belief that I am indulgent, lazy and stupid, and as a result, I am not worthy—of anything—but most importantly I’m not worthy of being loved. This unshakeable belief is irrational, and from an objective standpoint, I acknowledge that it is, in fact, wrong. But that doesn’t matter. He, this critic, is a part of me, and though I haven’t learned to kill him, I have found ways to quiet him.

Triathlon has me spend hours a day proving my critic wrong. The end of a race is exhilarating because I have so thoroughly given him a beating—shown him that he can fuck off—because look what I’ve done! The problem, of course, is that if I stop triathlon, or running, or whatever, the critic will win. When I think of stopping, panic set in. Also problematic is that one fast 10K, one marathon, one Boston qualifier, one half Ironman, one Ironman—is never enough. The critic is unimpressed. I could be Lance Armstrong or Michael Phelps and my critic would just shrug and say, “Whatever. I saw you cut that last workout short. You and I both know the truth.”

This all sound extremely unhealthy, doesn’t it? I’d feel pitiable except that I’m pretty sure that most of you out there are equally, if not similarly, unhealthy. What I’m working on is the notion that 1. I can get rid of this critic by cognitively disarming him (this has yet to work, but I maintain faith that it might) and 2. Though the critic is mean and terrible and wrong, he has gotten me to do and try some pretty cool things which, in addition to quieting him, are really fun.

Breathing in fresh, sea air on an early morning ride, pounding the pavement so hard and furiously as Joan Jett screeches, “I Love Rock n’ Roll” in my ears, feeling so sad and alive while running in the cool wet of late November, executing a perfect flipturn in the pool or doing a length of fly just because I can, meeting a whole slew of people who are so fun, and healthy and alive…. The list goes on and on.

So, back to Timberman. I will have a great race. I will have a great race because to not have fun, to not rejoice, to not totally savor the amazing thing I’ve prepared my body to do, would be to allow my critic to win. He may have used shame and fear to drive me into this craziness in the first place, but next Sunday I will not allow him to have the last word.

Will be back soon...

Hi! I am still alive and well--really!
However, I am having an internet free week.
I don't want an internet free week, but the fellow from whom I have been stealing wireless internet access all summer either found me out or left town.
I'm at the library! (Love the library.)
I will catch up on all of your blogs next week when I have access again.

Until then, Happy Training.

Urban Epic Pictures

I'm still sorting through them, but here are a few random shots! The one of the girl in the wetsuit that is NOT me is Alina! Go Alina! There's also a bike shot of Ange. If you look closely you can see the blood on her shoulder and arm.

Urban Epic Race Report

Team Triple Threat: Lorenzo (Alina's brother), the hub., Alina


Me and the Hub. post-race

Just for the record, I was NOT supposed to do this race. It wasn’t in the plan, and until I found out that Clearwater was such a slim possibility, I didn’t even consider racing it. But when Clearwater DID become unlikely, I began to realize that Urban Epic and the local races might be as important to me as Timberman 70.3. It’s local, all of my tri and swim friends, new and old and including the hub., were doing it. I really wanted to be a part of the fun. Also, I had some race strategies I wanted to try out. I did some experimenting and practicing and it paid off, I think. I learned a lot.

We had to rack our bikes the night before the race. I actually like to do this. It’s one less thing to think about in the morning. Alina and I showed up with two of my kids in tow to catch the pre-race meeting Tri-ME was having to explain the course and to rack our bikes. (Alina competed in relay with her brother and the (my) hub. She was racking her bro’s bike for him.)

I checked in, got my number and then we listened to what the race director had to stay. Swim: strong current, new course, blah blah, stay right, blah, blah. Bike: be careful. Big descent early on that later you must climb (this turned out to be the understatement of the century), lots of potholes, city streets, be careful blah blah, Run: nice and flat—only 5.7, not 6.2.

I half listened. It would be fine. Just follow everyone else, that’s what I do.

I should have listened more carefully. Oops.

Anyway. I went to rack my bike. All good. I placed my seat on the rack and wham! My seat post slid to the top. I took my bike off the rack and examined the offending seat post. It slid up and down. The clamp was not holding the post in place. WTF?

I panicked. Luckily I hung out with EXACTLY the right people last weekend at L.P., the very people who could help me and the very people who were right there, ready to help! I had Alina run to get Tim, one of the owners of Peak Performance in Portland. He examined my seat post, removed the clamp. As he removed it fell apart in his hand. The metal had split clean in half. Apparently this might be because it was clamped too tightly, but nothing is certain.

In a very calm voice he said, “Okay, Mary. This clamp is broken. I need to go to the shop to get a new clamp for you.”

At first I was like, Fuck! My kids are here! I was supposed to be home by 7! This is serious! It can’t just be fixed right here!

Then I settled. Just a clamp. Can be replaced. And, most importantly, here was this super nice person offering to save my ass. Thank you, God. Thank you, Tim!

I hung out as Nat, the mechanic, drove down to the store to get the part. Then, later, I watched as he carefully replaced it and carefully placed my seat in the exact place it had been before. I wanted to kiss the whole crew from Peak Performance. What a close call. Can you imagine if that clamp had broken apart on the course during the race? Disaster narrowly averted! Peak Performance will have my eternal loyalty and devotion. Thank you Tim and Nat!


The next morning the hub and I rose early and silently crept out of the house. Lauren, my superstar cousin/nanny was taking care of the kiddos during the race. I had a Luna bar and we stopped to get coffee. I have graduated from egg, cheese and sausage on an English to a Luna bar and coffee. Not bad, huh? Ha ha! We got to the race site and met up with Ange and Alina. Also there were tons of acquaintances and friends. It was really fun to know so many people.

The swim was point to point. It began at Mackworth Island and ended at East End Beach in Portland. It was advertised as 1.5K, but in truth was about 1.5 miles. This was fine by me. I love the swim! This would give me a chance to get out ahead of some of the super fast woman competing in the race.

Although Ange and Alina are both 35-39 AG, they weren’t in my wave for this race. Ange was placed in the Elite wave which started the race (Go, Ange!) and Alina was doing a relay so she began 3 minutes behind me. Although Alina and I had practiced the swim for this race the week before, neither of us was feeling overly confident as the elites went off. This is because at the last minute they changed the entire swim course! This time we would leave from the opposite side of the island and face a massive current.

We had been warned repeatedly that the current was strong. We could avoid this, though. We had to swim out to the red buoys, straight ahead, and then the current would sweep us up and basically carry us the next mile to the finish.

Ummm. Right.
Didn’t work out like that.

The elites were first.
Sucks to be elite.

They tried to swim to the red buoys. They were off course. They were more off course. They were SO OFF COURSE there was no way they were going to make it to those red buoys! Finally, they began to try to swim against the current toward the buoys. They swam in place. It was fascinating to watch. Really. They literally could not budge! One elite swimmer finally made it and turned around it. He (or she) got beyond the buoy and then it was like Bang! He/she was shot from a canon into the current. The whole AG crowd on the beach ahhhhhed in unison. It was amazing! One by one the elites struggled around the buoy and were shot into the current at lightening speed. One elite just wasn’t making it, though. He was struggling in place and it didn’t look like he’d ever get to the buoy. I couldn’t watch it was so upsetting. Later, I would pass this guy. n the swim.

The race director made a snap decision. The Age Groupers would not head to the red buoys. They would swim straight out, grab the current and then aim for the next set of buoys further down the swim course. There was certainly no argument from us! No way did I want to fight Mother Nature on this one!

When it was finally my wave’s turn to go I was ready. My thought was that I would get out front and keep swimming to the right until the first set of buoys we had to go through were close by. Alternatively, I would find a fast blue cap from my wave who seemed to have a good strategy and follow him/her. This is what I ended up doing. Worked great.

Right before the swim started I turned to the guy next to me. We had both creeped out ahead of everyone else-- A mark of a confident swimmer. “Are you a superstud swimmer?” I asked. “You bet,” he said. “Good,” I said. “I’m following you.” Then the race director shouted for us to go.

I followed said dude. I couldn’t really draft him. He was just ahead of me—but not too close. Perfect, however, as a moving sight marker. I just looked for his blue cap every time I sighted. Worked like a charm.

The swim took me close to 34 minutes. It took some swimmers over an hour. Some 1.5 K swim! Ha ha!

After the swim I staggered onto the beach and looked around frantically for the hub. There he was. Yes! I screamed, Hi! And ran on. The fact that he was there meant that Alina had not passed me! I knew there was a good chance that she would. She is an awesomely fast swimmer. But she didn’t. She finished a minute and a half faster than me, but she did not pass me! Yeah me!

There was a .65 mile run to T1. The run was significant enough that they had us do a mini-transition right at the beach. We had to find our white trash bag with our number on it, pull out our running shoes, and stuff the wetsuit, cap and goggles into the bag. I was worried about this little mini-transition. How would I find my bag amongst the hundreds of other white trash bags? But it worked out. It usually does.
T1 time: 6:56

At T1.5 I pulled off my shoes, stuffed my feet into my bike shoes and pushed my new pointy helmet on my head. I felt pretty dumb about the pointy helmet. I need all the help on the bike I can get on the bike, which is why I got it, but I'm not a super good biker, and I didn't want others to wonder why such a lame cyclist had treated herself to one! Anyway. I carefully mounted my bike and began to ride up the winding hill onto the course.

I admit it. I am a chicken on the bike. Within a mile there was a really steep descent that ended at an intersection where cars were zipping past. I braked the whole way down. No way was a bombing down this hill straight into traffic! After this crazy descent the course wove its way through city streets; streets with potholes, grates, manhole covers jutting out, rocks, glass--you name it. Also, there were cars everywhere. We must have crossed a dozen intersections--all of which were manned by policeman and volunteers-- but that wasn't enough to stop my heart from racing at each one and my legs from braking until I was going about 2 mph. Finally we left the city and began riding on slightly less trafficked roads. This race definitely was urban, I'll say that.

My average pace at this point was 17 mph. Not even funny. I started to push harder to make up lost time. Then I slowed again. The plan was not to hammer to make up lost time. The plan was to practice: practice pacing for my 1/2 Iron coming, practice being disciplined about sipping my drink and taking in gels. Disciplined about not letting a slow start ruin my careful and thoughtful race plan. But I wanted to hammer. 17 mph. You had to be kidding me!

Also, I was alone. I had been alone since the start of the bike--so much so that I often contemplated whether I was going the right way. Right at the beginning of the bike I had passed one woman and one man had passed me, but I hadn't seen a soul since then. I tried to push it harder now that I was out in the open, but it was difficult. I felt as if I was on a training ride.

I rode that way for some time. I had gotten a big enough lead on my AG in the swim that I didn't see any of them for a long time. About 25 minutes into the ride my former next door neighbor and former babysitter growing up passed me at lightening speed. I knew she would. I was just waiting for it. She smiled and we exchanged niceties. A few AG men from the wave that had started ahead of me passed me too. I was getting passed a lot. Sort of deflating. It's great to be fast out of the water, but kind of sucky when your bike isn't nearly as strong as your swim!

At the half way point we entered a lolly-pop turn around. I shifted into granny keep safe mindset again. Have I mentioned I also brake for every turn, especially left-handed turns? Argh. The second AG woman from my wave passed me then; Carrie. She is a serious rock star cyclist. In fact, she had the fastest bike split of the day for women, including Becky Lavelle and the other pros! (Granted, Lavelle did get a flat, but there were other pros in the race as well.) She sailed passed me and I wondered if she'd catch Erin. Those two are pretty competitive, but Erin seems to usually come out on top. Maybe not today. Carrie was moving!

The rest of the ride was uneventful until I hit the steep descent (now an ascent) that had welcomed me into the ride. Oh My God. I don't think I've ever been closer to teetering over on the bike. If my average mph was slow from being cautious, it was going to be seriously pathetic following this hill! Volunteers stood at the top ringing cowbells, but they couldn't drown out the sound of my heaving breath as I tried to crest the damn thing!

Finishing the bike I knew I must be 3rd or 4th woman overall, not including the elites, like ANGE. :) A bunch of men, but only three women (that I counted) passed me. The bike had been 26 miles as opposed to the 40K, advertised, but this didn't surprise me. The 1.5K swim was actually 1.5 miles and the run was reportedly quite shy of a 6.2, plus they had that weird .65 run to T1. Not exactly an Olympic distance race at all.

The advantage of having been downright pathetically conservative on the bike is that I had a pretty strong run. It wasn't ripping fast, but it was steady and in control. I felt tired but confident during the whole thing and I finished it in about 7:09 pace, which is pretty good for me; about 10 seconds per mile slower than my regular 10K pace. I was pleased. I had enough gas to be silly at the finish. We'll see how those pictures turn out!

At the finish I found the hub, Alina and her brother Lorenzo. They had crushed the relay field by more than 10 minutes. They seriously were a Triple Threat (their team name). Alina had the 2nd fastest swim split of the relay competitors and the hub. had the fastest run split. Lorenzo was 4th, I think, on the bike. Pretty awesome.


Then Tim walked up to us(Tim who had helped me the night before) and told us the bad news. Ange had crashed on the bike.

My heart dropped. Was it bad? Was she okay? Did she finish? Alina assured me that she had finished--that she had looked strong and that she hadn't noticed her looking injured. Then Ange limped over.

Her shoulder was taped up and she had nasty bloody scrapes all over her arm. She also looked a little stunned. She explained that she had nearly missed a turn at mile 4 and had to brake very hard, very suddenly. She flipped over the bars. No one was around. Had it been me, I would have sat there until discovered, and then I would have dropped out of the race. Not Ange. She got back on that bike and finished with a bike split much faster than mine. The girl amazes me. She then went on to pass several of her elite competitors on the run, running would had to be close to 6 min. pace. She finished fifth among woman. The top three women (including Lavelle) were pros. The other woman, a local athlete that is really good, was third overall. Ange would have been faster than this woman had she not crashed. But you wait. She's going to get her next time.

We stood around for awhile waiting for the awards. Because Ange had raced as an elite she was out of the AG running, and so therefore I was 2nd in my AG. Carrie, the girl of fastest bike split fame, was first. I was the fifth non-elite woman overall. I was 12th woman overall including the elites. I'm pretty proud.

Final times and places:
225 competitors
Age Group: 2/13
swim--about 1.5 miles: 33:58 rank: 19/225
bike--1:20:54 boo! 19.1 mph rank: 80/225
run--40:45 rank: 38/225

Think my ride was a little too in control. Claire, I really need your help!
It was a great race.

All I have to say is, Where the hell is the Ark? I want to get on it! It won't STOP RAINING!

There is a short story by Ray Bradbury called All Summer in a Day. Is anyone out there familiar with it? It takes place on Venus. On Venus it never stop raining except for once every seven years.

I am in that story.

In other news, when I went to pump my tire today the tip of it flew off and the tire went flat. The hub. is in MA. I had to change it alone.
And I did it! It took me 12 minutes. Not bad. (Okay, it's bad, but it's not bad for me!) It looks to be perfectly fine. We shall see on my ride tomorrow. ha!