Marshfield Training Series: My First (and definitely rather pathetic) Foray into Cyclocross

As you know, I'm in the midst of a Bring Back the Joy campaign.

Part of that this campaign has been to take on a new hobby: cyclocross.

I suck at cyclocross.
I really really suck at cyclocross.

I thought I might be really bad at it. I'm not great technically on the bike.  I have never done any mountain biking. I have spent the majority of my biking life (all five years of it) on a road and/or tribike trying to simply stay upright (and go fast), praying I don't have a mechanical and praying the road ahead of me remains smooth.

When road cycling I fear (quite profoundly) sand, dirt, gravel, grass, sticks, rocks, wet leaves, dry leaves, squirrels, chipmunks (okay all rodent-type creatures I could hit), sharp corners, left-handed turns, cars, other cyclists, children, runners, walkers, dogs or any type of even slightly unstable surface area.

I like nicely paved, completely empty, straight roads. Anything else make my heart race more than just a bit. That's the kind of cyclist I am. Give me that, and I'm good to go.

In other words, I'm not someone endowed with the skill set required to compete in cyclocross. Like-- at all. Not even a little.

So how in the world is it that I think cyclocross could bring back some joy to my training life?

Well, because I SUCK SO BADLY at cyclocross, that is just doesn't matter! I LOVE IT! I love it  when it just doesn't matter!! (I think of this clip all the time in relation to certain aspects of my life. Really.)

So, I got myself a cross bike:

Her name is Winnie.

She is fluorescent. I just need a fluorescent shiny bathing suit and a fluorescent helmet to go with her. Don't you think they'd welcome me at the races decked in that ensemble? Can't you picture it?

Anyway. I acquired Winnie. Then I got myself some new pedals and some new mountain biking shoes. And then I went out to the woods to play.

I have a short loop--about 1.5 miles long--on which I walk my dogs pretty much daily. The trail is pretty tame so I thought it would be a good place to start my new cyclocross career. The first time I tried circumnavigating the loop I didn't make it all the way around. At one point the trail curves a bit and climbs a short, root-laden hill. When I got to that part I freaked out and called it quits.

I then went back the next day, determined to ride the WHOLE loop so help me God!

I had to get off in several places and walk, but I did it. The next day I timed myself going around the loop. It took my just over 11 minutes for me to complete it. Keep in mind, when I'm jogging--really slowly--I do the loop in about 15 minutes. That should give you an idea as to JUST HOW BADLY I SUCK at riding my shiny new cyclocross bike in the woods.

I also went to the high school fields near my house and attempted to practice my nonexistent cyclocross skills. I practiced in grass and on the baseball diamond. I practiced in sand and gravel. I practiced dismounting and jumping over little rocks while holding my bike and stuff like that. And each day I would try to get the courage to HOP on my bike. But I couldn't muster it.

Not until the day before my very first real cyclocross race. On that day I said forget this! I grabbed those handlebars and launched myself over the seat and onto the bike. I landed with a thud. It wasn't pretty, but I had done it! I continued to practice hopping on until my hands became blistered from grabbing the bars so tightly and my inner thigh became bruised from landing with such graceless force on the seat.

And then I was ready.
Or sort of ready. I had looked and looked for beginner training clinics that I could start my new hobby with--at which I could be with other cyclocross newbies who suck as badly as I do. But I could find nothing. I did find a series of training "races" however, which took place on Wednesday nights about an hour from where I live. I emailed the race director and asked if any TRULY new people to cyclocross would attend the races. He assured me that yes! There would be plenty of newbies!  I would fit right in and I should come on down! (I should've known he was full of shit.)

The entire day leading to my first "race" I was so nervous I felt nauseated. I thought about backing out a million times. Why was I doing this to myself? Why had I ever thought this might be fun? But I had already signed up, already gotten a sitter, already committed in my mind. I had even told my (super cyclocross racer) coach that I was going. To not go would be to admit total defeat. Just do it. I had to just do it. I knew absolutely no one going to this thing. I could suck--and no one I know would need to know.

When I arrived at the Marshfield Fairgrounds parking lot there were many racers already there. They were all men. They were all skinny men. They were all skinny men in those little long-sleeved cycling kits that are all matchy-matchy. I swore under my breath. fuck. fuckity fuck fuck. Get me OUTTA HERE! But I stayed. Of course I stayed.

I got out of the car, pulled my bike out and got on my shoes. I scanned the parking lot. There had to be a woman here. There had to be! And then I saw a ponytail, and it did, in fact, belong to a woman. Of course, she looked as scary as the men: decked in a matching, long-sleeved kit and riding with all the guys. But she was my only hope.

I sidled up next to her. I did not say, Will you be my friend? Please? But I think she read it on my face. She was warm and friendly, and she introduced herself as Laurie. After we signed in she took me around the course. "We'll just ride it super slowly so you can see what you're in for..."

Famous. Last. Words.

I will give her credit. She did go slowly for me. But her so slowly was actually my top speed, and that was slightly embarrassing. I realized then that I would finish absolutely dead last in this race. In fact, I might not even finish this race. In fact, I would have to pull up my big girl pants really fast, because I found myself contemplating not even STARTING this race.

Why you ask? What was so terribly terrifying about this little jaunt around the cyclocross loop that might leave me thinking it might be best to pack up Winnie and head on home to relieve that babysitter?

It started with the sand. So much sand. And I'm NOT talking just a little sand on the road, or even just a sandy path. I'm talking BEACH SAND. There was one area of sand in which you were supposed to spiral around and then spiral back out again. I came upon this area and stopped dead in my tracks. Huh? Really? I ended up picking up the bike, and carrying to the other side of the spiral.

We then came to a set of curves that were--that's right--set in beach sand. How the HELL do I get through this? I decided to just do it... to just go for it. I got two pedal strokes in and literally tipped over onto my side. I remained there for a moment, riders circling past me saying things like, you just have to pedal through it! Or, are you all right? It was just a little humiliating. Just a little.

Then we arrived at the obstacles. I could do this! I hopped off my bike. But when I lifted my bike I realized that I am so short that I had to lift from the bottom tube, or the bike wouldn't clear the barriers. Awesome! I stepped (that's right stepped) over them carefully and took a deep breath. Time to hop on the bike! So I ran and jumped! Try not to land quite so hard!... suggested Laurie.
Yeah, ummm, I'm working on that.

Then there was the run up. Before the run up was a pit of sand. I didn't even deal with this. I just got off the bike and ran through the sand. Then I shouldered the bike and attempted to run up the root, rocky, steep bank.
I got to the top, sort of gasping.
This was NOT EASY. At the top, riders hopped on their bikes and pedaled on--even though at the top there was a path only as wide as my fucking pinkie. Okay, I can hop on ... but here? I didn't hop. I just got on the bike and pedaled forward. We went down. Then down some more. Then those tricksters had us take a turn and go down a sandy bank! When I arrived at it I again stopped dead in my tracks. NO WAY. I am not going down a sandy hill! But then some riders showed up behind me and I literally had to go. I got on and then.. that's right, I screamed Oh MY GOD! as I rode down. Don't brake or you'll fall! One of the riders shouted.
Right! No problem! No braking! Just catapult down to my death!

The loop ended with a berm and a jump. (I did not know it was a berm. I described it to Andy and that is what he said it was.) The berm was dirt, but not that steep, and the jump was small, and got smaller as riders went over it. (It was a built up block of dirt, basically.) My heart was still thundering in my chest when got to this berm, as I had not yet gotten over the descent on sand situation. So I didn't actually stop for the berm, I just pedaled hard, and to my great surprise, I made it to the other side and over the little jump!

Miracles do happen!

When the race started I got at the very back of the pack. We all went at once--the fastest riders separated by only like a minute from the slower riders. Of course, to me, they were all fast riders. We started and by the first sandy area I was already in last place. By lap three I was lapped, and by lap four every single person had lapped me. Then I sat out a lap. Then I finished up with a few more laps, stopping occasionally to watch the riders blast through the obstacles like they weren't even there.

So, I think you could say I finished last in this race... except I maybe didn't even really finish. But hey! I started! It was NOT a beginner type of event at all. I realized while there that it is actually just a way for competitive cyclocross racers to get in a mid week, race-type effort. There were no beginners there. Sure, some of them might have described themselves as beginners, but they were not--not really. Not like me!

But that is OKAY. Because I find it sort of thrilling to start something new that I am so ill-equipped to do well. I can only get better, and this shit is cool, and it will be even cooler if I can get to the point where I can actually do any of it!

I'm psyched.
I wanted to leave you with a super awesome cyclocross video that showcased all the elements I just described. But I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for, so instead I leave you with this one. My friend Marisa first shared this beauty with me:

Going for the Goal--(Around the Back and Sideways)

I feel unarmed without a goal.

I have one. It's to do well, by my standards, at Ironman.

Even though I actually do not want the IM goal to be the goal anymore, it's still the goal. It will be the goal until I satisfy it. That's annoying, but it is the way my limited, OCD brain seems to work. What's so unfortunate is that I will probably keep going for this goal until death takes me. I just have trouble letting up when I think something is close to being within my grasp.

I can have many side goals going on while I work toward a Big Kahuna goal, and what I find interesting, and worth writing about, is that I often do quite well meeting the little goals--the secondary or superfluous goals--but then fall short on meeting the Big Kahuna goal. This is not to say I haven't hit Big Kahuna goals in the past. I have--although usually inadvertently. Upon reflection I've always had trouble when I go straight shot for a Big Kahuna goal--work my ass off and go for it.  I choke under great pressure. Noted is that the pressure comes from within. I get all freaked out by how hard I've worked, and get overwhelmed by the idea that the work is all for naught if the goal isn't achieved. I know, of course, this is a truly dumb way to think. The work is never all for naught. It's the journey etc etc and so on.

Anyway.

I have also noted that sometimes I achieve Big Kahuna goals quite by surprise when I had actually been working toward a totally different Big Kahuna goal. For example, over the years while working (again and again) toward the IM goal I managed to go 1:30 in the half marathon, 3:15 in the full marathon, beat my fastest high school 100 backstroke time (1:12), and win my AG at an Ironman half Iron (Mooseman). Each of those accomplishments were on the list of goals I want to achieve before I'm dead list, and each of them was achieved when I was really quite focused on something else--namely the IM goal.

So I guess that damn IM goal has been good for something.

SO my thought is....
what if I do not go straight at the Big Kahuna IM goal, but go at the Big Kahuna IM goal--around the back and sideways? Like, what would happen if I don't give it Big Kahuna status in my thoughts and allow other goals to rise up and usurp it or equal it in importance?

In the spirit of this, I am not focusing on my IM goal.
*I am not focusing on it, at least exclusively, ever again.*

I know that sounds extreme.
But I think I might be onto something. I think the Big Kahuna goal needs to be sandwiched into my existing life, and not become my life. When the Big Kahuna goal becomes my life, I lose joy, motivation, and will... and then come race day I also seize up under the pressure.

This brings me to the topic of JOY.

One of my big quandaries this season was that I had lost the joy for training and racing. Now that I have been playing around for five weeks and not "training" I can see that it was my singular focus on achieving the Big Kahuna goal that caused me to lose that joy.

Andy recently read the Rasmus Henning autobiography and described to me how Henning uses a pyramid metaphor to explain achievement. The pyramid has at its base, joy. Joy is the foundation of all. Above joy is stacked Goals. Above Goals is stacked Work. Above work is stacked will. The idea is that if you don't have a foundation of joy--the goals, the work and the will will not hold up. 

I knew the joy was gone this summer, but I still had the goal, I still did the work and I still tried to have the will, but in the end none of that was enough, because my joy wasn't in place. My goals, work and will had no foundation. There was not place for them to rest, neatly, on top of the foundation of joy that make the training and racing and succeeding all possible.

I think I understand, now, that I have to be working toward many different things--all of which are fun--none of which take the other out--in order to achieve a Big Kahuna goal. When you put one goal above all others, you sacrifice for that goal. When you sacrifice for one goal, you leave other parts of your life and your self in the dust. Unfortunately, at least for me, that wasn't sustainable.

So I still have the goal.
But I can't sacrifice in the same way if I want to retain joy.
And I need the joy to get the goal.

So what does that LOOK LIKE?

I think it looks like this:
I take rest when I want it, as well as when I need it.
I race when I want to race, instead of not racing because I "shouldn't."
I do what my coach says, and not more than that, and in the extra time I have from not doing "more" I play. (in the garden, in the woods with my dogs, riding bikes with my kids....)
I do workouts and races for fun, and not just in service to the Big Kahuna goal.

So if I want to do a of series Cyclocross races while training for a fall IM?
I will.
If I want to do a race that doesn't make sense in terms of timing (like two half IMs back to back, or a swim meet two weeks before IM, or whatever).
I will.
If I want to splurge on an ice cream sundae when I am supposed to be trying to be perfect for training and racing IM?
I will.
If I want to make room for yoga, or a boot camp class, or a flying trapeze lesson when I'm in heavy training--and it means I sacrifice some of that heavy training for those things.
I will!

Next post:
In which I attend my first Cyclocross Training Series race, realize I have no clue, and come in dead fucking last.
and had FUN! Woot Woot!

I leave you will pictures of my super awesome and amazing Jordan, who was 10th overall in her first middle school cross country meet ever! My baby--just barely 11 year old! She's a runner! And here's the kicker: LOOK AT THE SMILE.
I have to help her to keep that joy.....

 Jordan and her friend, Katherine.

 The start of the race.

 Jordan and Katherine, running hard with a 1/2 mile to go!

Jordan sprints to the end for 10th overall! Go Jord! I'm a proud mom. (Just in case that wasn't obvious...)

Abnegation

abnegation*renunciation of your own interests in favor of the interests of others

*the act of renouncing; sacrificing or giving up or surrendering (a possession or right or title or privilege etc.)

*acting with less concern for yourself than for the success of the joint activity*self-sacrifice, selflessness

_______________________________

I've been reading the Divergent series by Veronica Roth.

I originally bought the first book, Divergent, for Jordan to read because she liked The Hunger Games series and this series was supposedly akin to that--dystopian, featuring a young, tough, competent female protagonist who is the leader in a revolution and who saves the world from its utopia gone awry, and who, in addition to this world saving, is smoking hot (though naturally she is such a tomboy/tough girl that she doesn't "realize" she is hot) and all the guys in the book want her. Of course, she ends up with the hot co-protagonist dude who is also super hot and a revolutionary.

Anyway, in Divergent the dystopian future features a society divided into factions. When one comes of age, she goes through a computerized simulation test to determine to which faction she belongs. There are five factions: the Erudite, the Dauntless, Candor, Abnegation and Amity.

From their titles you can hypothesize what each faction is like. When a person doesn't fit into any one faction she is labeled Divergent, and is considered dangerous but the other factions. She also has what one might consider superpowers. Obviously the reader recognizes that it is best to be Divergent--to be a person who is multi-faceted and complex. And we all our divergent, of course... but I must admit I've spent some time thinking about to which faction I might predominantly belong if I were in this future society.  And I've been thinking about where you belong, too, depending on who you are.

My conclusion for me?
Erudite with a side of candor.

In order of preference and personality I think I would be:
1. Erudite
2. Candor
3. Amity
4. Dauntless
5. ... and not at all --totally do not belong --Abnegation.

Why do I even bring this up?
Because I AM PLAGUED BY THE KNOWLEDGE THAT I AM NOT IN THE LEAST BIT SELFLESS (abnegation) or fearless (dauntless). And see, even saying that is a big Catch-22 because in worrying/reflecting upon/lamenting/angrily admitting that I am not selfless, I am showcasing how I am self-absorbed.

Not that I need to prove this fact to you. I know you already know it. But...
Most things I do have to do with .... me!
I blog. (about me).
I work out and race a ton. (all about me.)
I write in my journal. (about me.)
I have a job that is more about what I am interested in than what is practical, and which allows me to train and race. (so right, about me.)
I adore my dogs. (because they give me love without asking a ton from me.)

Sure, I'd jump in front of a bus to save any one of my children, but would I jump in front of a bus to save you?
Probably not. Which isn't to say I don't like you...I'm just not selfless. I LIKE being alive and I would rather not be hit by a bus because you stepped in front of one.

I am not selfless and I am not fearless.
And I'm pretty sure that being selfless and fearless is where it's at--that fully "realized" people have achieved--or actively work on achieving-- selflessness and fearlessness.

Okay, so how does any of this relate to triathlon?
Well, if you are a triathlete, I'm sure you have been referred to as self-centered--or worse, as selfish--and worst of all, as a narcissist.  Certainly, unless you have maybe done every triathlon you have ever done more to raise money for charity than for your own personal satisfaction and glory, it has been implied--or even outright stated-- that you are not selfless--at all.

Am I right or am I right?
And you feel bad about that--(or angry--or both).
Am I right or am I right?

And the question is, what do we, or more importantly, I, (see --self-centered), do with this information?

Selflessness is referred to with such reverence. And even narcissistic old me can see that the world would be a peaceful, controlled, civilized one if we could all become selfless. But is that the goal? Should it be? Likewise, being self-centered is referred to with such disdain. Yet we embrace the tenet of our country--life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The U.S.'s foundation is all about SELF--self-improvement, self-promotion, freedom of self, freedom to pursue happiness for the self.

It gets confusing. I feel like I have been socialized to be one thing (self-centered) and yet society  condemns me for being self-centered--which is not to place blame on society, as opposed to placing blame on me. Or maybe that is exactly my intent. As I said, it gets confusing.

A lot of my blog seems to be about identity--about searching for it, coming to peace with it, defining it, transcending it, embracing its apparent beauty and/or flaws.

What I don't know here is whether I should be seeking to change. Should the goal be to become more selfless? If I cared more about others would I spend that time helping others instead of pursuing my own passion? And is that right? Is that good? Does it matter?

In the end I very much believe in the idea that I have only one spin around in life.
Which is a selfish way to view life.
Which is probably why even pondering all this is moot. (right, not mute, mom. Although I have a feelings most of my readers will be mute in terms of commenting on this post!!)

If you could make sense of this post, you are a better person than I!

I wore my bright yellow/lime sparkly suit to the pool Saturday. Just thought I'd let you know. I got quite a few comments... not all completely endorsing of it. Imagine that!

Swim Goddess Etc Part 2

Since my last race, after which I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in my left foot and was given a really sexy boot to wear, I decided it was time to change things up a bit.

The old body and mind had been screaming at me to to take a major vacation from triathlon for weeks and weeks (okay, months) before the injury was diagnosed, but I refused to listen. (shocker).
I felt I "needed" to finish the season I had set out to do. And I am sort of a stubborn pain in my own ass (and okay, also in other people's asses--like Alina's and Ange's, and Andy's, and Kurt's), and so I wouldn't stop training and racing despite my flagging enthusiasm and my nagging fatigue.

But my plan to finish the season was foiled, so I stopped fighting and committed to the vacation from triathlon I needed. It took a bit.... but I did.

It started with taking a full two weeks completely off. Okay, not completely.  I swam in the ocean a few times.  But other than that I took two weeks off from training. I'd like to say it was an awesome two weeks. It was--because I was in Maine and on the beach with Alina and our kids--but I WAS OFF. Oh MAMA I just do NOT do well when I am forced to rest. I felt like a caged animal. I felt heavy and lethargic. I felt like I had lost my center completely.

But I survived. (I'm not sure Alina did... sorry 'bout that, Bean!) I slept a lot. I ate a lot. I lounged a lot. I complained a lot.

The time off was a good thing in that it made me really really really really not want to take any more time off, which in turn made me think about all the things I wanted to do--at least the things I wanted to do that didn't involve me re-injuring my foot.  Unfortunately, after two weeks, most everything still kinda hurt the foot except for swimming. And truthfully, even swimming hurt when I'd forget to only push of the wall with my right foot and not my left. That was discouraging and also super annoying. Isn't TWO WEEKS ENOUGH?
I know, I know.
Anyway, I decided to buck up, and make swimming my major focus since I couldn't do other cool stuff. Which, as I mentioned in my last post, necessitated the purchase of a few swim new suits:

No doubt I will get comments from my new Masters friends, which is, naturally, the point. Admit it, you've always wanted to wear a shiny, metallic yellow/lime suit. Admit it! And I'm 42--so I have reached that magical point that I can wear whatever the fuck I want. So can you. Even if you haven't reached that golden age of 42. I give you permission.

So, in my last post I described PROJECT SWIM GODDESS. The swim suits are a first step for sure.

That project is going well. I'm getting better at remembering to push off with only my right foot. I'm getting better at enduring the long Masters workouts, and I am finding my place among my new Masters compatriots. Today I even successfully remembered my lane mates' names: Randy, Nancy and Pat. Next to my lane there were Sue, Tim, and...... okay, two guys I have swum with but can't remember their names. But I am getting there! On Monday we had a practice that was 4300 yards of IM work. It was a mother f-cker. I was exhausted when I finished, and seriously wondered how I would make it through the day. But I also loved it. There is nothing better than really getting your ass kicked in the pool.

There are a few things to note about Project Swim Goddess:

• I am hungry ALL THE TIME. It's like IM training. Swimming just makes me want to eat everything in sight. This is not good. I will not be a goddess if the food consumption continues at this reckless rate.
• I have to get up at 5 a.m. to make the start of practice. This is really and truly difficult. I'm adjusting, though.
• My hair is even crispier than usual. 
• Deep google marks are becoming a permanent facial attribute. 
• So far I am feeling stronger, but I'm not actually faster. 
• I suck beyond sucking at breaststroke and something must be done about this.  

Although my injured paw is not really ready for it, I have also joined a few boot camp type classes. I was never under the naive assumption that these classes would be easy for me because I am an endurance athlete. I knew I would walk away so sore I could barely move. And I was right! My friend Tracy has convinced me to do this strength/agility type course put on by a group called CATZ. We did so many squats the first day that I HONESTLY had trouble sitting down for like a week following it. 

My friend Rose convinced me to join her Fit Club class at the SweatShop, too. Great name, huh? The Sweat Shop! Anyway. Rose is an ultra endurance runner, and I knew if she described the class as an ass kicker it would be. And I was right. We did about a thousand push-ups the first class--and a thousand jumpy things and a thousand sit-up type things that were harder than sit-ups and I definitely barely survived. This is a picture of the woman leading the class: 

If you click on her picture it links to her site. She is a definitely a bad ass!

And in final news on the vacation from triathlon front, I got myself a cyclocross bike!
Here she is:

Great color, huh? I got her used from a woman x-racer who used her as a pit bike. Well, I feel like I have rescued a good-looking puppy. No more PIT BIKE status for my new baby! She is the QUEEN--the one and only cross bike owned by Mary, cat. 4 DFL cyclocross racer!

She doesn't have the right pedals yet. Have to get those. And shoes. But I have been riding her on trails and at the the local high school fields, and I must say, I am in love. I am upright! I can control this bike! I can do a tight u-turn without feeling like I am going to tip over!  The only downsides about riding her -- I am slow, and I am weak, and I'm chicken.

I have learned... riding in the grass is freaking hard! Once I hit a field I get tired in literally 2 seconds. But I'm getting better. Today I lasted 13 whole minutes going through wet, longish grass. Go me!
I'm planning on going to a few training series races at the end of September, and then a few "real" races before the season is out. I am mentally prepared to look like an ass. I am actually going to relish it. There is no meaning attached to this for me except to do something totally out of my comfort zone and survive it and have fun while doing so.

That's what I'm talking about.

I miss running so badly it hurts.
(a little melodramatic, but man, I miss it so much!)
But I am going to have fun until my foot can manage it again. I am.

Project Swim Goddess

This week I joined a new Masters team. Andy (the mate) and one of my athletes have been going to this group since last winter. The coach of this team types out the workouts and gives each swimmer a copy. I'd beg Andy to bring home the workouts (even if the paper was tattered and soggy) so I could copy each one and do it on my own. I loved the workouts because they were always the perfect distance (about 4000 yards) and the coach had intervals set out for an A, B, C and D group. I fit the B group perfectly, so the intervals were ready made and perfect for me.

For awhile I thought I should just allow that Masters group be Andy's thang... you know. Give him some space--don't invade his new fun workout party--continue to steal the workouts he brought home and execute them solo. But then I thought, fuck that. I want to go too! So I decided to join this group in the mornings. (Andy swims at night, so it's still sort of his thing, right?)

My first practice was on Monday. Since it was Labor Day, the practice was at 8:00 am, and Andy didn't have to work, so we went together.  We did 4100 yards, and I loved it!

Here are the reasons I loved it:

1. The people were nice, and I found the B people and felt like I fit right in.
2. The workout was challenging, but I could do it without a problem.
3. The time went fast... even though part of the workout was 4 x 300 and I hate 300s (I don't mind 400s or 200s, but I just really don't like 300s.)
4. The coach remarked that he thinks with a month or so of work I might be able to move up to the A group.
5. and finally, The coach is smoking, and I mean SMOKING hot. (Okay, he's like 25...I know I know). All the reasons above were reason enough, but an eye candy coach just seals the deal for me! (I did question Andy thoroughly about this... as in, How could you have kept that small detail from me? Hello! He just rolled his eyes ....)

So I plan to swim with this group three mornings a week. I also plan to swim on Tuesdays with a group at Harvard. I like that team too, but it's just not that easy to get to Cambridge to train. Then I plan to swim one day all by my lonesome.  If I don't develop a major shoulder injury from training the swim 5x a week, I will fast become the swim goddess I aim to become. Since I can't run (sob!) this seems (at least to me) like a good plan.

In honor of my new swim goddess goal, I have (of course) purchased a few new suits from Splish. Two are shiny suits--you know--like metallic. One is red and the other is a lime color. The other suit is pink with white polka dots. They were having a sale over the Labor Day weekend. That is my excuse, and I'm sticking to it. That, and my plan to honor becoming a swim goddess. No need to reflect upon the fact that I already have so many swim suits I have had to devote and entire drawer of my dresser to house them all.

Other than swimming, I have not been up to much except for the usual work/chores/parent. I wear my boot around. I've been eating (too much). I've been hanging with the dogs in the woods. I've been spending way too long on FaceBook and too much time reading (at least recently) trashy novels.

I have also been looking for a used Cyclocross bike to buy.
And I think I may have found one.
If I can get this foot to heal then I will be spending some time trying to ride the thing.
Should be comical and worth several hilarious posts!

Maybe I will marry the two goals--swim goddess and cyclocross survivor--and pedal around in my lime green sparkly suit while sitting on my new/used Cross bike. What do you think?

Leaving Ocean Park

Sunrise in Ocean Park, Maine.

We left Ocean Park yesterday for home in Massachusetts. 

This year it was especially hard to leave for a few reasons. Because I was diagnosed with a stress fracture only a week after getting to Ocean Park, I wasn't able to do my usual running and biking there. I have routes I like to do each summer. The hardest part of the timing of this injury was that: I was in my favorite place in the world to train, and I was unable to train. 

Granted, I was burned out and didn't want to do a lot of training anyway....

But somehow when you are TOLD you cannot do anything and a boot is slapped on your foot, it makes it all the harder. The old adage you don't know what you've got until it's gone... is oh so true. It's easy to lament how much you don't want to train until someone says, OKAY, no training for you, sister! (I know you all know what I'm saying here...)

SO, anyway, it was especially hard to leave yesterday, knowing I didn't get out to Lyman,Waterboro, Cornish and Limerick to ride, and knowing I had missed the inaugural OOB REV Half, and knowing I hadn't completed my favorite running routes through Ocean Park,  Ferry Beach, and Old Orchard--and most of all knowing I can't come back in a few months to do these routes when my foot is healed. I have to wait all the way until next summer. God damn!  

It's also hard to leave OP because we leave Alina and her kids. Alina and I (and I know you know this already if have read this blog for awhile) have been tight since grade 4 when we both had the very strict and mean Mrs. Small.  We have stuck together all these years, and are incredibly lucky in that we get to spend almost the entire summer together each year, courtesy of my incredible parents, who own (and are willing to share) this fantastic beach house in OP that can accommodate us all. Alina's three kids are the same ages and sex as my three kids (Jordan/Maria (11), Noah/Ethan (8) and Dara/Lara (7). By late August our families function like a well-oiled unit.  It's hard for all of us to separate at the end of the summer. My kids spent the better part of a half hour literally weeping pitifully after we loaded up the van and hit the road. I admit, I cried a little, too. I do every year.

More than anything I will miss Alina salting wine glasses as we make dinner, and pouring us each a a glass of pre-made margarita.  Sigh. That is the best. 

A few photos of OP life. Yup, I have it good! I know it!

Noah and Ethan--trash picking in order to collect cans so they can buy candy at the corner store. They made over $25 a piece this summer. Do you know how many freaking cans that is? (And how much candy? We finally had to require they save the money and not blow it all on Blow-Pops and Laffy Taffy.)

Ethan and Noah fighting nature by building a dam.

Ethan blocking a large leak with his body when sand reinforcements have failed to keep nature at bay.

 Dara and Lara warming up after swimming.

Jordan and Maria, pausing in their sandcastle creating to allow me to take a picture.
*You can just barely see the Pier in Old Orchard extending into the ocean far down the beach. The OOB REV 1/2 starts just before the Pier. I'm not kidding when I say that race was in my back yard!

Jordan eating a cookie while standing next to her completed Mayan sand temple.

The best time of day on the beach--around 5:30 p.m.

Alina and me, final day on the beach.

____________________________________________________________

I admit that even though my last week in Ocean Park was awesome, as always, I went a bit stir crazy because I have been only able to swim! Alina and I did get a few nice wetsuit swims in the ocean this week, but as most of you bike/run addicts know, that ain't enough when you are used to working out like we usually do. To say I'm jones-ing to sweat is an understatement.

Today marks two weeks since I last bike/ran. When I was told I had a fracture, I decided that the next two weeks would be totally off. I needed the break, and I had to take it anyway because of the foot, so those two weeks would be my yearly off weeks, that I usually take in the late fall. I've been sleeping a lot, babying the foot, and otherwise being extremely lazy. It's safe to say I've successfully lost some fitness and gained some poundage while indulging in the usual OP fare: frosted cinnamon rolls from the local bakery in the mornings, margaritas at dinner, and ice cream from the OP Soda Fountain at night.

But today it all ends! Today I become.... SUPER MARY! 

Nothing like 2 weeks hiatus from working out to make a person want to go crazy working out.

Unfortunately, the craziness will not include running for now. That is a killer, but I've set some NON running goals that I know will hep me get through the next 8 weeks (Dear GOD hopefully not more than that) until I am able to run again. 

I'm going to swim like the baddest bad ass swimmer ever. I'm going to see if I can hit 20K in one week a few times.

I'm going to do yoga a few times a week, and take two boot camp type classes (minus the sprinting they involve) per week. 

I'm going to get on my bike a few times a week and do some short, hard workouts. 

Kurt also wants me to do some aqua running. 

I assign this all the time to my athletes, and it sucksssssssss. We'll see how much I actually do. Yucko on that. 

I have three swim meets on my schedule. The final meet will be the Short Course Meter Masters Championship at Boston University in early December. I do this meet every year, but it's usually pretty laid back for me because I generally don't do much training in November leading up to the meet. BUT THIS YEAR, I plan to really go for it at that meet.

I am a sucker for things like rankings, and I have discovered that just like in triathlon, USMS ranks swimmers in each masters age group by event and time. So I have goals based on rank! Very fun.

The only semi-decent ranking I got last year in SCM was the 200 meter back. I'm ranked 21 in the country for that (2011). (I think this speaks to how few people do that event as opposed to my 200 meter back prowess, but I'll take it.) My goal is to make it to the top 15 in the 200m back this year, and top 20 in the 50m and 100m back. I'd also like to make the top 30 in the 400m and the top 20 in the 100m fly.
For times that means roughly I'd need to do a:
200m back in 2:50
100m back in 1:20
50m back in :36
400m free in 5:50
100m fly in 1:27

That's all I have for goals right now. But I'm psyched!
Today marks me very last day of lazy-ville. Tomorrow I start my swim goddess training.

I spend my summers in Maine (or as much of my summer as I can, anyway!) but I conduct most of my business in Massachusetts. When in Boston I see Margaret Karg for body work. She is amazing, and I have gone to her for years. I like her so much I have been reluctant to try anyone when I'm in Portland, even if I really need work done. I finally ventured into the unknown last week, and set up an appointment with Kevin Mackell of The Athlete's Touch in Portland.

Wow.

I love my Margaret, but next to her work, this was the single best massage experience I have ever had. Kevin spent 15 minutes talking to me before the massage, detailing what he could do, and asking me what I needed. He then spent over 90 minutes doing deep tissue work, ART, and traditional massage.  It was beyond awesome. I highly recommend! I convinced Alina to visit him the Monday after my Friday massage. She was equally-- if not even more --wow-ed than I was. Then I got Angela to make an appointment, too. She goes at the end of this week. I'm not one to advertise on my blog... but I had to say something here. The dude is amazing.

After my awesome massage I rested a day and then, as I reported in my last post, I raced a little sprint in Cape Elizabeth called the Tri for Preservation. (Absolutely awesome race, btw, if you ever happen to be in Maine the third weekend in August...)

I had a decent race, one which I am definitely not ashamed of, but I also experienced the same lack of verve that I have been dealing with all of this season. My run has suffered the most during this time. I think it requires a sort of desperate and frantic energy to really really go hard on the run of any tri, because if you have done it right, you do not come to the run fresh as a daisy. I usually have that energy. I usually kill myself to run girls down. But like during my other races this season, I let two women pass me that had (in my humble opinion) no business passing me. And I didn't hunt them down. Only when I saw my friend Anne who had to DNF b/c of her broken chain/derailleur and she shouted at me to run them down did I find a little spirit to do so, and that ended soon after Anne was out of earshot.  I ended up running those three short miles in a SLOWER pace than I have run an entire half marathon in past races. Not good.

I have been looking for a reason... a reason why my verve has been less than stellar for months now, and why my run has been so dramatically affected by it both in training and racing. The only thing I could come up with is that I have trained too much and not given myself a break. And that's true. But I now have another theory. I think I have been injured for quite a long bit of time, but I think I did not allow myself to recognize this. My body knew it, though, and it refused to work at its usual "level" until I acknowledged and did something about the injury.

I tell my athletes to tell me when something hurts. The fastest way to get through a potential injury is to catch it early and rest it. However, I also know that if we all stopped short whenever something hurt, our consistency in training would be ridiculously abysmal. The trick is to know when something is serious, and to take charge of it when you have a feeling it is.

The problem really comes when you have been training for so many years that you begin to have trouble distinguishing between pain that is going to lead you down a path of peril, and pain that will resolve itself within a couple days or weeks. I have run through so many injuries at this point, and usually come out on the other side somewhat intact, that I have stopped believing that internal sensor that fires when I have a "hurt" that should stop me short.

My foot has been hurting on and off for many months now. This is nothing new. I have bunions and big callouses, and have had neuroma and metatarsalgia pretty consistently since I started doing endurance triathlon. So my feet are truly ugly and they often hurt. But the pain I had early this summer was different, since it was on a bone and on top of my foot. Still, it didn't hurt so badly. It was tender. It was inconvenient. But it didn't' need to shut me down.

After my race on Sunday, though, my foot was more than just tender. In a few hours it was swollen on top of the foot and really quite painful. Still, I wasn't incredibly worried. At least, I wasn't incredibly worried until later that night when I realized I couldn't walk on it without wincing. And then I became more worried when the pain kept me up that night when I wasn't even putting pressure on the foot. I knew I had to have it checked. I knew this was a foot that would be really hard to run on in a half ironman--and I had a half ironman coming up in 6 short days.

So I had it checked.
And it is a fracture of the second metatarsal. And actually, it is likely a re-fracture of a bone that has seen better days and has fractured before.

So sighhhhhhhhh......

I can still swim. And I'm hoping that soon, like a in a few weeks? I might be able to bike. Not sure on the running. That is a big question mark. I'm trying to be patient. I'm trying to deal with the fact that I feel klutzy and heavy when wearing the damn boot they gave me.

Some seasons you rock. Some seasons everything seems to go awry.
I was due for a season gone awry. I've had a bunch of really good ones in a row.
The good thing about having this not so stellar season is that I really feel like I learned a TON in the last few months, and I have knowledge that will not only help me in the future, but also those I coach. And after I heal this damn foot I am so excited to get strong. I will take my time, and not overdue it. And next season is going to be a good one. I just know it.

Chin UP

I have a bad habit of looking down at the ground when I run. I'm not sure what I'll find there. Some speed maybe? It makes more sense to look ahead, of course. It makes more sense to target what's coming next, not look at the pebbles dotting the street right by your feet.

Nevertheless I must remind myself to look up--to look forward.

I don't actually have a problem looking to the future. In fact, I could argue I live too much in the past and the future, and not enough in the present. But when it comes to my fitness, my training and my racing, I seem to be rather myopic. I'm only as good as my last swim, bike or run. I'm only as good as my last race.

I know that those who race best don't think like I do. They put the bad race or workout directly behind them and move on--chin up--into the future. This, I've decided needs to be my next and newest goal. I need to look up when I run.  Because it's hard to keep loving the work if the work doesn't give you love back, and the work only gives you love back if you don't expect it to be good all the time. It only loves you back if you don't let it define you on a day to day basis.

So that's the new me. Not defined by today's slacker workout. Instead, defined by....

Hmmmm.

Now that is a question to contemplate. Defined by....
Don't you find it hard not to define by? Like in general? Like in life?

I've noticed this trend among my mom athletes.

Awhile ago they decided to do a triathlon, and they liked it. They liked that they did something scary and hard; they liked that they took on a challenge and conquered it; they liked that they worked to become fit enough to actually complete an event. They liked it so much, they wanted more. They don't ever want to go back to being that other person-- the person before the person that completed the triathlon.

And it begins. They gradually morph in body and in self-definition.

This can be a big ass problem to the others in the athlete's life. The others--like the spouse, the friends, the family--LIKED (usually) the triathlete before she/he was a triathlete. They also depended on her--to meet demands and not to make them. And she tries to still be that person. But she really wants to be the person who trains and races. Because that person is strong and able. That person has her own life--in addition to the life that previously existed pretty much only in service to others.

The woman prides herself on being a mom. But she also wants to be fully entrenched and viewed by the world around her as a triathlete, as a contender, as a person who has the energy and self discipline and life force to both have a life for herself--and the life of a mom.  The training and the racing are emblematic of her ability and desire to do both--to be both. Sometimes the spouse and friends stick around for this transformation. Sometimes they are so angered and bitter about the transformation that they leave.

It's inaccurate to paint a picture that showcases these tri moms as entirely selfless beings who are now, finally, taking a bit back for themselves. Nevertheless, that is how I am painting it, because frankly that is how I view it! haha! I will say, though, that any time a person changes it is hard on those around them. And I will also say that the power of finally feeling good about your fitness, your ability to compete, and your body can be highly seductive.   I have certainly been victim to that seduction.

Over the years I have become more and more entrenched in my life as a triathlete. Next to being a mom and a coach, it is the way I define myself. Which is why it's hard when I fail to live up to the expectations I have on myself in terms of performance--especially with my myopia problem.

So the question remains... how to define myself on a day to day basis if I make it my goal to not define myself according to my training and racing? I suppose not at all? And will I lose my edge if I do fail to define myself this way? Do I have any edge left to lose?

Today I raced -- a little sprint in my hometown called the Tri for Preservation. It's run by my friend Ted and the Cape Elizabeth Land Trust, and it's a great little race. It was a beautiful day and a gorgeous place to race.

I'd like to say I had fun when racing. I really didn't. I felt crappy the whole way--not physically so much as mentally. I don't think I had one positive thing to say to myself, just a lot of self-defeating mean and angry at myself thoughts, which is no way at all to go through a race! I DID have fun after the race, chatting with friends and getting awards. (I was second overall right after my super pretty and fast friend Stacy, who kicked my ass on the damn run!) (Stacy is in the PBM kit and I am next to her.)

It was Alina's bday today, and she celebrated by doing a relay at this race. (Happy Bday, Bean!) She was the swimmer and Andy (my husband) was the cyclist and runner. And they won for fastest relay! I was very proud.

Alina had the 3rd fastest swim split of the day, and Andy had the third fastest run split.

My good friend Anne raced too, and likely would have completely kicked my butt had she not suffered a broken derailleur only a few miles into the bike. We started the race together in the same wave, and I though I tried like hell to stay with her I was not even close to doing so! I was in the process of TRYING to catch her on the bike when I saw her stranded on the side of the road, her chain split in half and dangling from the bike. Such a drag. I'm sorry, Anne!

After the race Andy, Alina and I got some breakfast, and then went home to the kiddos. Later that night we celebrated the bday with blueberry pie and ice cream. Yum.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I begin to pursue my new goal.

Time Trial

Okay, my mood is not quite as crappy as it was when I last wrote. I received quite a few notes after that last posting, both on and off line, suggesting various methods of relieving myself of my oh-so-bad attitude. Getting inebriated, resting, going to church... just a few of the many excellent ideas.

But I didn't do any of them. What I did instead is a bike time trial.

This is probably that last thing you'd think would be a good idea. I am burned out, so slow I'm beyond slow, and I pretty much hate my bike right now.  But I'm a little crazy, so to me it seemed the right idea.

It turned out to be quite fun! Fun is relative, of course. It wasn't fun like winning a million dollars or going on vacation without children, but it was fun, as time trials on the bike go. I arrived early with my family in tow (man are they sick of going to races!) registered, and was relieved to discover I knew not a soul. I was in no mood to explain why I decided on a time trial at this oh so desperate time of burn- out, and I was also in no mood to make excuses for myself if my ride turned out to be as sub par as I thought it might be.

I was number 15 out of like 40 people to head out on the course. I started off hard--pretty much too hard--because it's been so long since I have done something that is supposed to be all-outish that I have lost touch with the art of going all-outish while still making sure there are reserves to actually finish the race. But eventually I settled in to a pace that had me breathing audibly--occasionally even grunting--and had my quads feeling slightly burned and on the verge of cramping--which is pretty much where time trailing pace is (at least for me).

After riding for about 10 minutes I found myself in a position to pass a few people. Not so bad! Then 4 men passed me all at once... all flying at like 30 mph to my 20. Oh well. So much for THAT ego boost. I kept working away, and eventually passed a few more people. Then a woman flew by me at such incredible speed that I was somewhat taken aback. Not only that she was number 22! That meant she had started the time trial 4 minutes after me! Oh dear God....

But here's the thing. I was having fun! Even after said woman put me to shame, I was having fun. Or at least I was not NOT having fun. Does that make sense?

Just before the end the skies opened up and it started to pour. This was rather unfortunate, but it let up again within a few minutes of it starting. I passed a guy at this point that I had been targeting for awhile. That made number 5! I had passed 5 people! And all men! Not so bad... not so bad...

But then right before the end of the race number 5 passed me right back. Rats. I had nothing in my legs to try to catch him. My sprint speed is pretty much the same speed as my sprint tri speed, and my TT speed, and my Oly speed--that is the problem. But he had another speed... and he used it. OF course, I still BEAT him because he started before me. So that is a nice sliver lining. Not so silver is that I found out he was 64 years old. Damn. 64? Sprinting past me at the end?

After finishing I found my family and we headed back to the homestead in Cape E. I had no idea where I had placed, which was fine by me. There were not that many women there, but the women who were there were cyclists, and I fully expected I placed toward the very back of them. Turns out I was not in the back... but in the MIDDLE. Okay... I'll take that! The women who beat me beat me by minutes--in a 16 mile race--so yeah. They smushed me. But I beat a few women too. Good enough.

More importantly, the race made me feel like I could race... and like I wanted to race.
Don't get me wrong... I am fully ready for this season to end. But I think I can make it the next two weeks, and be just fine.  One more sprint! On more half!

Then one big nap!

These pictures have nothing to do with what I just posted. But I like them. Just proving that other things, like parenting, go on in my life when I am not lamenting my poor sorry season.

Piñata at the annual Ocean Park Fiesta--.

 On Cow Island with Alina, Jordan and Maria--. Kayaking adventure.

Eating Lobster frosted cupcakes on the front "porch" at Cape E.

Don't You Hate It When....

1. People say you are so lucky, and you know you are lucky, but you still want to tell them to fuck off--what the fuck do they know?

2. You think you are going to be able to sit and read with a cup of coffee and one of eight million things comes up to make that impossible?

3. You think you are running fast, and you look at your Garmin and you are running like a minute slower per mile than you thought you were?

4. Your dog eats a whole can of omega three fatty acid pills and reeks of fish oil and you can't get rid of the stench? Plus your omega three fatty pills are gone and you have to replace them?

5. You need like ONE DAY JUST ONE GOD DAMN day to chill--alone--and you simply cannot get it and it will likely be like 10 more years before you do? And then someone tells you that someday you are going to miss these days and want them back? And you know they are right but you still want to poke their eyeballs out with toothpicks and tell them that they simply don't remember what it is like to have absolutely NO ESCAPE?

6. You think your period is OVER, and then it comes back for a last hurrah and gets you when you are in a bikini and on the beach and cannot get to a bathroom at all?

Okay, I guess that's enough for now.
Feel free to add your own!

Here is an update on training.
It is slow and not going very well.

Here is an update on my mental state.
I am feeling rather DOWN and unable to yank myself back up because I am far too busy contemplating my feeling down.

I am planning to race a little sprint next weekend, and then the OOB Rev Half Ironman the weekend after that. I am frankly not sure how I will finish that half IM since I am really struggling to ride longer than 45 minutes and run longer than 15... but I may have to do it anyway. Why do I need to do it? For the same reason I need to pick the same scab over and over again. I simply can't help my poor sorry self.

You know?

Lessons Learned.

When I think about IMLP, I still get a little sad. It was hard to write the result in my side bar on the blog. It's a race that I would for the most part prefer to forget. (Except the swim. Proud of that swim.)

Forgetting those races you'd like to forget, however, is not the way to go.  There is a great deal to learn when a race does not go as planned--often way more than if the race had gone right. I truly believe that my "bad" races contribute to my becoming a better athlete and coach--in the end. That's my silver-lining.

The following is a self-justifying and self-promoting paragraph, BUT.....

The funny--perhaps even ironic--thing is that when an athlete looks for a coach he/she often examines the coach's athletic credentials and chooses a coach, at least in part, based on whether that coach has been successful. Clearly an athlete/coach who can point to a successful career in racing has done a great deal that is right, of course. But it's my (more than slightly biased) belief that those who have experienced both success and failure (that would be most if not all coaches/athletes, of course)--and (most importantly) have dug deeply to understand their failures in addition to their successes--emerge the wiser, more empathetic, and successful coaches.  Additionally, it makes more sense to look at the successes a coach has had with her athletes as opposed to her own athletic record, but that's another post.

The first two days after IMLP I felt to sick to my stomach (still) and too numb to really figure anything out about the race. I just mourned (more than a bit) and tried to put the result into perspective.  After writing about it I felt much better, and within the week I was looking critically at the race to try to iron out the many factors that contributed to it NOT being the race I wanted.

Some of the lessons I took away from the race border on cliche (okay FINE! They are cliche!) they are so well known. Unfortunately, sometimes we must learn things by experiencing them--and sometimes by experiencing them more than once. This is certainly true for me. I'm wicked smart  ;) and know a lot. Except sometimes I just know it and I don't KNOW IT.

Anyway, Here are a few of the things I learned (or re-learned) after my somewhat suck-a-rific race at IMLP.

1. In order to execute an Ironman one must be willing to gut out sickness, pain, exhaustion and sometimes even injury, especially during the run.  

Well, duh.

However, I think some believe that if one has trained well enough, then digging deep shouldn't be necessary--or AS necessary as it always is when you get to the latter stages of an IM. No one would SAY this, but I have certainly encountered this false notion in conversation. It is not that the elites are not as sick, exhausted, and in pain as you are. They are. They just have learned how to fight through it better than you and me--or, more likely--they want to fight through it more than you and me, and they know the only path to success is to do so. There is no training regime that allows an athlete to experience the IM run as anything less than extremely, if not overwhelmingly, challenging. This is as true for Chrissie Wellington and Craig Alexander as it is for us. They may make it look easy, but it's not--not even for them.

In my last race I did not have the will to fight when things got tough. I got sick, and I was unwilling to to everything within my control to finish the race strong, anyway. That will is required.
Had my will been in place I still (almost certainly) would not have PR'd or gone sub 11.  However, my result would've been much better than it was.

Part of my lack of will grew directly out of petty anger. I felt I should not be sick because I had executed the race as one "should" execute an Ironman. I deserved to have the run go well. Of course, that is just about the stupidest reasoning ever.  Ironman is not a kind mistress. She doesn't care what any of us deserve or do not deserve. Most everyone at that race deserved to have a good run, and there were plenty of men and women around me who were also not having a good time of it. I think we tend to believe that those people who navigate IM successfully have done things correctly leading to the race and during the race that we, those who flail, have not done. That may be true. It also may not be. That is the very difficult thing about racing in general, and about Ironman in particular. Sometimes we get the race we "deserve." Sometimes--maybe a lot of the time--we don't--and it's not always because mistakes were made.

But back to will.
It may sound as if I am berating myself for not having enough fight on race day.
Fight is mental... and so it is just that I wasn't tough enough mentally. Right?

Well, yes! But there are reasons I wasn't tough enough on race day. It's not enough to simply say, NEXT TIME I will have the fight! I want it, damn it! It's more important I understand the reasons my fight was not there.

1. In late May/early June I had signs of nonfunctional over-reaching. Over-reaching can be intentional--as when one makes a one to two week push to increase volume and/or intensity in the 4-6 leading up to a race like IM. The athlete does become exhausted, but proper recovery is planned following the period of over-reaching, and adaptation is able to occur. Nonfunctional over-reaching is more insidious. The athlete has not intended to over-reach, and therefore does not recover to the degree she should. On paper I should have been able to complete the training I was doing--at least in my mind. But for whatever reason, my body became exhausted and simultaneously my brain chemistry became slightly altered.

This happens when we over-reach. Hormonal shifts occur, and brain chemistry is slightly altered. It's this neuro-chemical and hormonal shift that signals to the body that it is overly tired. Although not really advisable, one could ostensibly train right through over-reaching--because the fatigue is largely a signal from the brain as opposed to true and serious damage done to physiological systems stressed when training. Unfortunately, these neuro-chemical and hormonal changes may not right themselves for several weeks--and sometimes several months.

I think part of the reason I had no fight at IMLP is because although my body was fully rested and ready for the race, my brain chemistry and hormonal imbalance was still off. I know this partially just because of the way I felt in the weeks leading to the race. My sleeping was off, my moods, my desire to train. My body was rested, but my brain chemistry was not right. In short, my brain worked hard to shut me down on race day, right from the start--probably far earlier than it would've had I not had that period of nonfunctional over-reaching.

All that is a fancy and long-winded way of saying that I trained too much and fucked up my poor little brain. And my body was healed from that period of training too much without enough of recovery, but my brain wasn't. When we use the term burn-out, this is what we are actually talking about.

The lesson here? One, listen to your coach and do not add volume or intensity to your training unless you decide as a team you should. It is not wrong that I wanted to add volume to my training. It was the way I did it that was wrong.  Second, if you feel something is awry--you feel flat, unmotivated, lethargic--then tell your coach! If you insist on keeping it to yourself because you fear she will take away volume, or challenge you about adding more, or she will think you're a wimp, or she will change your training zones or WHATEVER... get over it, or be prepared for a race day like I just had. 

Lesson #2. Nausea often means you should slow down. Nausea also usually means YOU ARE DEHYDRATED. 

I don't know how many times I have to learn this one.  I am a woman who pees-- a lot. This probably has something to do with the three babies I had in quick succession. So the fact that I peed a ton before the race, during the swim, and on the bike--well--it really doesn't mean much except that I am a woman who pees as soon as there is a drop of pee in her bladder. It might say something up how I don't process fluid the way I should -- or something. Who knows.

Anyway, I took in a lot of fluid at IMLP. But it wasn't enough. My nausea, sadly, can be attributed to that alone. When I get de-hydrated, I feel sick. It happens in training. One of these years I will remember that when I am racing... and drink more than I think I need. Because the truth is I need more than I think I need--and perhaps even more than is recommended by others for me.

Less #3:  There are certain "best practices" that a coach should employ when training an athlete for Ironman, especially an athlete new to Ironman. However, if these best practices have failed to produce the desired result in several previous races, then it's time to try something different, because it is foolish to train the same way for a race again and again, and expect you will have a different result. 


What this means for me, is that it's time to try something new! I think we know somewhat intuitively what works for each of us--especially if we have been at this IM game for awhile. This intuitive sense of what we need, however, does not always jive with conventional practice and wisdom.

If you are new to Ironman, then I think it's smartest to suspend your intuition and do things conventionally the first few times out. There is so much cumulative experience and knowledge out there, and a good coach will apply that and get you to the finish line.

However, after the first 2-3 IM's, if things are not quite working, it's time to go back to that intuitive sense and explore it further.

I plan to break from convention when training for my next Ironman. It may not work. But the conventional path has not quite worked for me either, and I'm ready and eager to try a different method.

I have ideas about race specificity that I have yet to really explore. An observation I have made is that it takes me, and others, only about 4-6 weeks to peak for a race once race specificity is added. Typically I have started to become increasingly race specific 10-12 weeks out. Further, I have tried to peak for a 1/2 IM 6 weeks out from IM. But the 1/2 and the full are very different events. What has happened nearly every time is that I peak for the 1/2 IM, and then, because of fatigue, I fail to peak again for the IM six weeks later. For me, at least, the 1/2 IM six weeks out is counterproductive. It may not be if I choose not to "race" the half and hence do no race specific half IM pacing workouts before that race. But that is not what I want for me. I want to be competitive in every race I take on.

Also, I have ideas about what race specificity needs to look like--for me--and perhaps others.

In our final, more race specific build toward IM we conventionally ride the race distance and follow it with a short transition run. We also run long, perhaps even 20-22 mile at once--though this run is separated from our biking. We may do a few bricks each week, but they are not race specific if they involve anything but IM race pace--and long distance.

A race specific brick, in my opinion, involves IM pacing on the bike followed by a longer run with IM marathon pacing targeted within it. I'm not suggesting that people ride 6 hours and then run 4 hours--all at IM pace. That is asinine. But in the same way one trains for a marathon--e.g. repeatedly running longer and longer at target pace until a distance just shy of race distance is achieved in training, I think I (maybe others) need a few race specific workouts that better emulate the demands of riding long on the bike followed by running long off the bike.

What would this look like? It might be a 2.5 hour ride with IM race pace intervals mixed in followed by a 1.5-2 hour run which includes 6 x 1 mile at  one's targeted IM marathon race pace.  I'm fairly certain that this workout would not be more taxing then the far less specific training protocol of running 20 miles straight in the weeks leading to IM, or executing an 112 mile bike ride followed by a 40 minute transition run.

I need to re-iterate that I don't think training that involves this type of workout is appropriate for those new to IM. Ironman training for one new to it requires a coach get the athlete to be able to go the distance. Riding 112 miles or running 18-20 miles prior to race day is crucial for someone who has never completed a century or run that long in training or racing.

Still, for the more experienced IMer, I think it makes sense to experiment with race specificity in the 6 weeks leading to the IM. My body and brain has only been given the opportunity to run long off the bike 5 times since I started this type of training--and all of those times have been during my IM races. Over and over research has shown that one is ready to make a breakthrough after the execution of several extremely race specific workouts reveal that breakthrough can happen. A marathoner knows a sub 3 hour marathon is within reach when she can run 20 miles with 15 x 1 of those miles done at sub-seven minute pace. Likewise, I think one needs to teach the brain and body how to ride at a targeted pace, and then run (long) at a targeted pace after that ride.

I have a brain that needs to be imprinted. Partly this is because I think too much. I am a person who needs proof. I have no proof I can run long off the bike, or run at a pace I want to run while doing it. Therefore I think that I need to show my brain/body how to do it. It can do it. My brain and body can do it, but they have not been taught how to. My next goal is to provide them that instruction in the 4-6 weeks leading to my next IM race.

Numero Cinco. Definitely Not A Magic Number.

Well, my fifth Ironman is in the books.

I competed in Lake Placid in 2009, 2011, and 2012.

I competed in Coeur D'Alene in 2010, and Kona in 2011.

So, in short, I've competed at the IM distance five times in the last three years.

My results at Ironman have been quite consistent. I have never crushed a race at the IM distance. I have also never bombed one. I have raced between 11:13 and 12:02--in terms of time--for all five. My first IM in LP I finished in 11:45. My fastest IM was CDA, which I finished in 11:13. My slowest IM finish occurred yesterday, in my fifth IM, which I completed in 12:02.

I'm really disappointed but, honestly, not that surprised.

I have never put more time into my training than I did this spring. I went against Kurt's wishes every week, completing more in terms of volume than I ever have before. I wouldn't listen to reason. I knew I needed more – and I was going to do more.

Unfortunately, and perhaps as a result of adding this volume, I never felt praticularly good or strong in my training this spring, except in the swim. My swim seems to respond well to greater volume. Perhaps under the right circumstances, my bike and run would respond to greater volume, too. But they didn't this time. Instead, the greater, unprescribed-by-coach volume spun me into a physical and mental hole.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First let me say a little about yesterday's race. Ironically, in yesterday's race I did everything right leading up to the run. This made it all the more frustrating that my marathon was the slowest I've run in a marathon—ever.

Here is every little thing I did right:

Leading up to the race I felt pretty good. I got lots of sleep the preceeding week, I ate well, I kept the stress levels as low as I could considering I have three awesome-but-demanding kids. I went to bed by 8 the night before the race, got up at 2 to eat and again at 4, and made sure my stores were topped off in terms of hydration, calories, carbs and electrolytes before the swim start.

I got in the water early and swam to the center, front row of the line. I knew I would get crushed, but I've learned that it doesn't really matter WHERE you start the race—you're still going to get crushed—so I made the decision to go for it and deal with whatever came my way at the gun.

It was bad. But honestly, no worse than IMLP in 2009 and 2011. Mirror Lake is just too small to accommodate the number of people IM squeezes into it. I swam straight for the buoys at the gun (or tried to swim). I was pummeled with pretty much every stroke. But I stuck with it, and made the first turn RIGHT at the buoy (as opposed to taking it wide) something I've never dared to do before. By the second lap the slower-than-me swimmers had fallen back, and the speedier-than-me swimmers forward, and I was with my people. We all drafted off each other, bumping and hitting the whole way, but it was good—good because we were equals, working our way to our respective, one hour finishes.

I got out of the water at 1:01—my fastest IM swim ever. IMLP is a fast swim (when wetsuits are allowed). The whirlpool effect is huge. Even if you don't try to draft you catch the collective draft. Still, I am pleased because I was able to PR the swim without working hard at all. This was definitely my goal and I feel great about it. My approach to the swim was to not let my heart rate get high at any point. Any time I felt adrenaline shoot through me and felt the subsequent desire to gun it, I held back. I just swam. I enjoyed it (as much as you can enjoy a contact swim like that). I'm pleased about my swim. This is good, since at least it gives me one aspect of my race to feel really awesome about!

I was thrilled when I saw my time getting out of the water, but I kept my emotion in check and made sure to take the transition run easy—and then took my time in T1 getting ready for the bike. Out on the bike I stuck to my plan flawlessly. My VI was very good for both laps. My first and second laps were nearly exactly the same in terms of speed (the second lap a strong wind came up so the speed was a little slower) and my watts were identical each lap. I ate every 15 minutes, at the beep of my watch. I had a bottle of fluid every 45 minutes, like clockwork. I peed five times.

I felt strong and in control, and like I had a ton in the tank to give to the run.

My bike split was 10 minutes slower than in 2011. Part of this was the strong wind that came up this year that wasn't there last year. Part of it was by design. My goal was to have the run of my life off the bike, and so I kept my watts under what I am capable of doing—less than 70% of my FTP.

Because my bike split was so much slower than last year, I still didn't know whether I could PR the race when I got off the bike. But I knew I had done everything I could do to ensure a good run—and that includes doing much greater bike volume in my training leading up to the race.

But.

It was not to be.

This post isn't funny or chipper. I want it to be! I'm sorry.

I could tell you how I bonded with the two men I lined up with at the swim start –and how we put our palms together 30 seconds before the gun, and said May the Force be with you! And agreed to do our best not to pummel each other.

I could write about how proud I was to ride past my coach at mile 2 on the bike, knowing that he would realize what a fast swim I had had. I wanted to raise my arm in triumph, but I didn't because I knew I should stay aero. :)

I could write about how at one point I was sandwiched between two women on the bike, and we ALL started peeing at the same time. The spray got on my sunglasses, my kit. But I had to laugh! The timing was flawless! We all started peeing at once! The poor woman behind me got it just as bad as I did.

Or I could write about how my Powerbars melted together into one mass in my Bento Box so that they looked like a gigantic chocolate peanut butter turd. But hey! I still ate that turd!

I could tell you that TWO different people (who I had never met) rode up next to me to tell me they loved my blog. That was AWESOME! (Thanks to both of you.. you know who you are!)

But mostly—I have nothing fun to say. Because I never felt... fun. I never felt happy. I felt focused—I felt determined not to fuck up my plan—but I did not feel happy.

And in the end? It was THAT that did not allow me to have a good run. I wasn't having fun—I wasn't totally invested in my race—I wasn't willing to give it all I had.

Here is the thing about IM: You have to really, really want it. You have to want to do well so badly that nothing-- not nausea, not dehydration, not shitting your pants, not even vomiting all over yourself and in front of the crowds, will prevent you from continuing to give it everything you have. If you want to win—if you want to place well--you have to train and execute flawlessly, but you also must really want it.

Because no matter how well you execute, something—or many things—will not go to plan.

I ran out of T2 feeling pretty good... certainly better than I have ever before coming into an IM run. But within a ½ mile the nausea came up. And by mile 2.5 I puked for the first time. It was quick and dirty—and I kept running right after I finished.

But it was over for me right then. I simply did not have the heart or the will to get through another IM marathon throwing up. I wasn't willing to go there. I did not care enough. In fact, in the moment when I started running again--I did not care at all.

It didn't help that I knew that I must have been 8^th or 9^th AG coming off the bike. SO many women in my AG had passed me on the bike—way more than I had had thought would, even given my conservative wattage. It turns out I was actually 7^th coming out of T2, but it didn't matter, because in my mind I was already slightly convinced that I could not run my way up to a top three spot, which was what I had wanted going into the race. I wasn't gunning for Kona—and I have achieved a top five spot before at IM. I wanted more. And if I didn't get it—I simply could not muster the care that would've earned me a slightly more respectable place and time than I ended up with.

That is not good—or at least it's not good if you want to be able to tell yourself you left it all out on the course. I ran /walked a 4:44 marathon. What you need to know here is that I did not walk the whole thing. You can't actually do a 4:44 and walk the whole thing. I ran a lot--. I did not run fast. But I ran a lot. But every time a wave of serious nausea came over me I would slow to a walk. I chewed on ice, I tried to get down some chicken soup, or an electroylte tablet, or a part of a gel. I took in water at every stop, and sometimes Coke, too.

But I didn't smile and I did not fight the nausea by continuing to run. My friend Anne (from Mooseman? You may remember I drafted off of her and as a result had a kick-ass swim there... ) and I were out on the run course together for the first loop, and she kept trying to pull me along. And I would try to rally—but then I would fade again, and finally I let her go. Later we met up for a PowWow in the medical tent—both of us really dehydrated and puking. (Thanks, Anne. I was so happy to have you with me that first lap, even though I wasn't willing or able to show it. It was really the ONLY redeeming aspect of my run... having you there!)

I managed to run (as opposed to walk) by my friends, family, my atheltes on the course and my coach (except when he rode his bike with me for a longish stretch and I fell back into walking—cursing him and wishing he'd leave me alone to my walking ways.) And I waved to my friends! And I smiled! But I was unhappy. I had done everything right—and the run still had not gone right. I hadn't made mistakes. And I had still failed. And I did not care anymore.

I ran the last 1.5 miles of the race. It was not fast or pretty, but I did run it! I followed a girl in a blue Nytro kit that I realize now must have been Julie Dunkle. I tried like hell to stay with her—and then I was able to pass her toward the end. We finished close to the same time. Clearly she did not have a great day either—because she usually kicks my ass at the IM distance! (Sorry I didn't say hi, Julie! I was a little too depressed to make conversation.. and I also wasn't sure it was you...)

When I crossed the finish line I smiled for the camera. I put my hands in the air. I hadn't wanted to do well badly enough, and I didn't push through it when it got hard—but I had still finished in 12 hours, and I know that that time is respectable—no matter what fool expectations I place on myself. I won't put that time down. I am proud that even when I didn't give it all I had, I finished in that kind of a time.

Some volunteers took my arms once I crossed. After walking a bit another wave of nausea hit, and I pulled away from the volunteers to puke. It was mostly dry-heaving, but the volunteers took me to Medical anyway. I am old hat at Medical now! Since 4 of my 5 Ironman marathons have been puke/shit-fests, I have spent some quality time with the wonderful people who volunteer there. There are no better people—I'm convinced. They weighed me. With my sneakers on I was down 3 pounds, but that's not SO alarming. They put me on a cot and I just lay there until I felt I was okay and could move on. They discharged me, and on my way out I saw Anne and went over to chat with her. Within a few minutes the nasuea came back in full force and I turned blue and started shivering. Re-admitted. They gave me anti-nausea medication and some fluid. Same old.

Usually in the Med Tent I feel grateful and so happy to be done and to be taken care of—finally. But not this time. This time I just felt sad. And done. I felt really done.

I felt no joy. I had finished my fifth Ironman event—a huge accomplisment no matter what the finishing time or place. But I felt no joy.

So there is the question...

What happened to that care when I was out there on the course? Where was my joy? Where was my love of competition? My verve? My fight? I have always been able to depend on my fight...

So where had it gone?

I had a lot of time to think about this—on the bike, and on the run, and in the last 48 hours since I finished the race.

And it's simple, of course. I'm just burned-out.

I have been chasing a sub-11 hour Ironman and a Kona spot since 2009. I got the Kona spot, but never felt I had really earned it. I wanted to qualify (still want to) for Kona by finishing at the very top of my AG. And I have not yet gone sub-11.

And I have worked hard—very hard—to get those two things. And I know so many of us work so hard—and so many of us don't always get the result we have worked for and deserve. I know I am not unique or special that way. Still, I'm slightly in mourning, so you'll need to cut me some self-absorbed slack.

Perhaps the saddest thing is that in working so hard, I let my joy for the sport waver—and then blow out—until I was operating only out of habit and fear. Who am I if not a long course, endurance athelte? What would happen if I finally let up on my goals—and let go? Would I still be me? Would I still be worthy of being a respected coach and athlete?

I didn't blow up on that run yesterday. I started slow, felt sick, got sick, got slower, and gave in.

The puking? Yeah, that's me. The giving in? No—that's not.

And so, I've decided, I am not signing up or competing in another IM until that –that desire and joy and that will to not give in--comes back to me.

So, unless I miraculously find my missing MOJO in the very near future, I'm not racing at IM Cozumel this fall. I am going to rest a bit, then race either one or both or neither of the 70.3 races I have on my racing docket for the late summer. Then I am going to rest a bit more.

And then I am going to focus on getting back the joy!

I have talked with Kurt a bit—and I think it will involve doing some things I haven't really done before. I may do some short course work—some track—some strength training (in earnest) and some shorter, but hard, bike workouts. And it will involve some shorter racing—and no plans for a full IM, as I said, for awhile.

Here is the really good thing. Having my time freed up slightly from training will allow me to focus more on my coaching, and my kids and Andy, and on having a garden, which I have really, really missed. (Hard to be an excellent gardener when you are training all the time, and coaching, and parenting.) I'm excited to coach my athletes who have signed up for IMLP next year to IM greatness. I'm really excited to go to IMLP next year and cheer them on—as a coach only, and not an athelte! I'm really excited to host a training camp for my IM athletes next spring knowing that I do not need to schedule my own IM training needs around that camp. I am really excited that Ironman is still mine to have—as a coach, and someday, when I feel it again, for me, as an athlete.

I had a bunch of friends and athletes who race Sunday.

My athlete, Kelly, who has been working so hard for months and months, had a really solid race. She had an AMAZING swim, a really solid bike, and never-give-in run. I am so proud! Other TM athletes, Marisa, Tammy and Mike, also swam really well, played it smart on the bike, and gutted out the run to finish strong. (I think a lot of people had trouble on the run yesterday... not sure why... ? A little heat—and the wind on the bike did not help much. Lots of vomiting and shitting on the course and in the med tent this year!) I also had a bunch of friends who rocked it. My friend Amy, a PBM coach, got 5^th AG group in 30-34 and had an awesome run that led to an IM PR. My friends Angela and Rob also had really strong race and placed well in their AGs. My Iron-virgin friends Marc, Melissa Caron and Anne (all PBMers) raced with patience and intelligence, and really excecuted flawless races and earned stellar times—a huge feat for any first timer. My friend Melissa B, who had never done a triathlon before Mooseman of this year, powered through the race—proving that hard work and determination does get you to the finish line—with time to spare.

I also had a few friends who, like me, didn't have great races. Most of us who did not have been around the IM block before. All of us who have been doing this tri thing for awhile have a slew of good and not-so-good races to our names. No matter how well you prepare, sometimes you have a great race, and sometimes you don't. Sometimes you can trace the reason why the race went sour. Sometimes you can't.

It happens.

My husband, Andy, has put up with me these last years as I tried again and again to get Kona and a sub 11 IM. I owe him the hugest love and thanks. Andy does not jump up and down when he is charged with picking up the slack when I train and race. But he always stands by me and takes that charge. I'm grateful.

I need to thank Kurt, who has put up with me these last few years, despite my constantly challenging him and messing with his plans. I know I am a difficult athlete to coach. Thank you, Kurt!

I also want to thank SO many of my athletes and friends for coming up to cheer me on this year, for texting and emailing and calling me this weekend. The support was huge and meant a lot, and I thank you all! I also want to thank Angela and Marisa for hanging with me all weekend... You guys are the best! Finally, I want to thank my athletes, who allow me to be both an athlete and a coach, and deal with it when I flake out for several days straight come race time! I also want to thank my sponsor, TriBike Transport, who has provided me with goodies and kits and free bike transport for several years running.

I haven't written a lot in the last year or so. Part of that has been my gradual move toward burn-out—and my unwillingness to write boring, tired, burned-out posts. I'm hoping that this little IM hiatus will fuel more writing verve, too. I need to get my humor back. It's gonna come—just like my verve for racing long. I know it. I just have to rest and wait.

Until then...