As for Vineman – the swim and the bike  were okay but the run was cruel beyond description.  I’ve never experienced so much pain in my life as I did that first mile of the run.  I spent the first mile just chanting “just make it to the 1st aid station – come on, you can do it” but mostly telling myself that it would be okay to turn around, turn in my chip and call it day.  But I got to the 1st aid station so I made myself go to the 2nd.  At that point the stretching was making my neck go out and the pain washed over every muscle cell, flogging it like an executioner with a cat ‘o 9 tails warming up the condemned.    I thought about doing a U-turn and then reminded myself that I had committed to  spend 3 miles trying to get my legs under me so I tarried on.  Once I got the 3rd aid station I fired up the Jedi mind tricks – go to mile 4 and you’re home free – you ran 9 miles 2 weeks ago – you can do this!  And on I went and once I got to mile 4 I figured even a U-turn would involve 8 miles of locomotion so I might was well just keep going.  And I did.  3 hrs and 3 minute after I left T2 I finished.  Worst race of my life but under the circumstances not quitting was a major triumph so yay for me!

But that’ s  not the blog thing I’m talking about.  I’m talking about  blogging  and time.  Not that it’s been months since I posted but that  it’s been years since I started doing this.  I just finally took a look at my Bloglines and many of my fave blogs had double digit unread marks approaching 100. I went and read an old favorite, Laid off Dad and he’s talking about how his youngest son likes to ride his bike and run stuff over and I was struck by how the passage of time never fails to deliver a sucker punch.  When I started blogging,  Laid off Dad really was laid off (he is no more), he was married and had 1 small son. Then another one was on the way and then son #2 (named 2Bert since his brother’s name is Robert) arrived, then the marriage hung a left and dissolved (the wife is a big name blogger, too and that may or may not be causative – LoD is too much the gentleman to have ever told), and now Robert writes comic books and 2Bert plays demolition derby on his bike.

I might wonder how that happened but I know how it happens.  Time goes by leaving us staring in the mirror,  squinting to inspect our  wrinkles and grey hairs.  And then it keeps happening – over and over and over again – sucker punch after sucker punch.

I guess the message here is that stuff is kicking my ass.  My job (and I do have a regular, full time job with a regular pay check), my training, my races, and time.  I guess I’d better get my ass in shape so it can take it.

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Last night  in my effort to find something on TV to keep me company while I caught up on Facebook I stumbled on a show on FitTV about Diana Nyad.  Diana was a world class ultra-swimmer.   She attempted at one time to swim from Cuba to Florida and was in the water for 42 hours, covering 90 miles before she had to give up.   She couldn’t repeat that trip because of Visa issues but she did manage to swim from Bimini to Florida successfully.  Makes 2.4 miles seem kind of easy but that wasn’t the best part of seeing that show.

At one time in her life she really wanted to represent the USA at the Olympics. Specifically she wanted to swim in the 1968 Olympics in Mexico when she was 18.  Sadly she had some setbacks including a sexual assault by an adult she knew that strained her emotionally and spiritually  and a cardiac infection that kept her out of the water for 8 months and sapped her fitness.  Those events conspired to keep  her from that goal and she approached her final swim meet in high school with a ‘why bother’ attitude – her dreams a pile of dust.  A friend of hers noticed how laden she looked and said, “look at the nail on your pinkie.  What does that represent as a fraction of the effort you use to swim a race?  Why not go into that race and push off as hard as you can and use every bit of your heart and gut and those muscles you’ve worked so hard to develop and swim as hard and fast as you can and when you get done don’t look to see if you are 1st or 8th, just close your eyes and close your fists and think about how you swam that race so hard you didn’t have a pinkie nail’s worth of effort left in you.”  And that’s what she did.   She came in 6th but it didn’t matter because she was all in on that race and she knew it.

Since then she has filled her life telling stories as a sports caster and she has done many things to inspire others.  She works with women over 40 trying to reclaim their lives and with veterans dealing with any number of  casualties and issues.  She’s done lots of things to inspire and enrich the lives of others.

At the end of the show she talked about how there is so much to do and so many people to help and so much to  experience that no one can do it all – you just can’t. But when her time comes she knows that she will close her eyes  and know that she lived her life  so that she couldn’t have done one pinkie nail more than she did.

And that, as it turns out, is my ‘reason’.    I also do a lot of  “things” – I’m a CASA volunteer (and just signed on to be a team leader and help other CASAs) and I’m on the BOD of my race club and I started the new triathlete program last year and will continue it next year and I “do” stuff; it’s who I am.  This  race and presumably my impending accomplishment in finishing it  is one of many things I am doing not to win, not to be the best, not make someone else  happy, not for glory or fame, but as another component of   living my life with every bit of spirit and effort and joy I can.

Thanks

Getting to a race like this is never a solo effort.

Thanks go to my Coach Tammy Metzer of Tempo Multisport who has taken me from a ‘no way I can do this’  nervous breakdown to feeling 100% confident in my ability to finish. I feel strong and I feel great and she got me here so thank you Coach Tammy!!

My kids have been a huge source of encouragement and inspiration.    That’s one of a bazillion reasons I love them so much and want to make them ever more proud of their Mama.

My friend Sharley took me under her wing and trained with me quite a bit over the last couple of months and it’s been great.  Kelby, too.  Both of them have been great at beating me into shape encouraging me to go a little harder and a little faster than I wanted to.  Dana and Maggs and Kat and Harold and Julie and Christy and Patrick  all get thanks for hours logged training together.  Kudos to Vali for endless cheering and excitement for me (but we really didn’t get much of a chance to train together – baby that knee!)  Chris and Monica are my forever coaches and Joe is my forever font of wisdom and calm.  Thank you to Dana and to Sharely for putting together send off/good luck gatherings for me and thanks to everyone who came – it meant the world. And it means the world to me to know that so very many people are watching me and rooting for me and sending their good vibes.

And on that note – LET’S RUMBLE!!!

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I signed up for the full ride – 103 challenging miles through Sonoma County and out to the sea and back.  The race directors were brutally honest about the difficulty of this ride but I figured ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ and I’m training for  an Iron distance race so what the hell – I was all in.

The splendor of this ride is literally indescribable.  It takes you through fields and farms and vineyards, on to the redwood forests, back out to pastures where  the cattle roam free from one side of the road to the other and then out to some of the most magnificent winding ocean side highway in the world.  I’m sure the  stretch of Rt 1 we were on has been used in  more than one car commercial.   The terrain is very tough with hills on Kings Ridge Road that my Garmin measured at 21% grade (I think the official is 18%), cattle guards aplenty and the wind out at the coast was strong enough to blow me sideways. Keeping the rubber side down was a challenge.  

I’d like to say I was 100% triumphant across all 103 of those miles but that isn’t quite how it went.

This ride is the cyclists version of the Myth of Sisyphus.  That’s the one where Sysiphus was condemned by the Gods to push a rock up to the top of a hill but  just when he  got close the rock would roll back to the bottom and he’d have to go back down and start again.  In this case, the ride involved climbing until you  were sure you were ‘at the top’ only to find that shortly after starting your descent you had to head up again.  It happened over and over and over.  You would get through the worst of it only to be greeted with another, less steep but longer climb.   The descents were ferociously steep  and took place in what felt like milliseconds.  The climbs just kept coming.   It was madness but the scenery kept it from being awful.  The scenery was amazing.

The first really ugly climb is on Kings Ridge Road.  It was preceeded by a not insignificant but not terrible climb  that made me think “maybe this ride isn’t such  a big deal after all”.  Then we encountered a sign that said ‘steep climb ahead’.    I knew that the first climb was not notable relative to the real climb and that I was likely in trouble but I dug in and gave that hill what I had.  It was really, really hard and as soon as I saw people off the bikes and walking I thought – oh no  you don’t!  You keep pedaling.  However, at some point the combination of my very labored breathing and the intensity with which my heart was beating (not all  that fast but really, really hard) I bailed and started the walk of shame.  And started in with the self-loathing.

I got to a corner where there was a little bit of flat space and where my friend Sharley was waiting to take a picture of me climbing.  No such luck.  I caught my breath and got back on the bike and started in again but soon found that my willingness to suffer was pretty low so I got off again.  Crap.  This time I just walked to the next available place to re-mount and started up again and managed to do what I thought was crest the hill.  And it was a crest  – for about a few hundred yards and then the climbing started again.  I stayed on the bike this time, though and did not give up the rest of the day.  On balance I probably walked 10% of the whole Kings Ridge Rd. climb and I’m trying to just let it  go.   At least part of my rational was that I didn’t want to be the one to mar Levi’s inaugural effort by having a heart attack.  Big of me, non?

And on the ride went – it went up and it went down at ferocious and terrifying pitches.  There were signs telling you to slow down and people flagging you and calling out to you to slow down and my hands just about cramped up gripping the breaks and it was really fun and quite thrilling. And then the climbing started again.  Lather, rinse repeat.

I could try to describe the scenery. I could give you the blow by blow on the flat tire that ended my day at mile 75.  I could tell you about every rest stop and about the wind  that threatened to blow me across the road, right in front of an on-coming car. All of those things happened and my ride ended at mile 75 with the bead of my  rear tire partially separated from the rest – game over. I could tell you how both elated and sad I felt about taking a car ride over the next ugly climb on Coleman Valley Rd (I would have walked part of it but  would have finished the ride and was really sad not to be able to) but mostly what I will tell you is what I learned on this ride.

I learned, once again, that the state of California is gorgeous and has some of the best riding in the world.  I learned that there is lots of open space and there  are places where people live simple lives, nestled in the redwoods or where they work tirelessly raising cattle in fiercely beautiful places.  I saw the ocean from a new perspective and marveled at the sparkling, churning azure waters and the craggy rocks pushing up from the bottom at a pace where I could really feel  them instead of whizzing by in a car at 50 miles an hour.  I learned that I have some limits  and that if I want to transcend them I need to do some more work  but that  even with the limits I’m remarkably fit.  I learned that good friends are not so much the people you’ve known forever as they are the people who encourage you and look out for you and push you to keep going.   They are the ones who tolerate you when you are cranky and lift you up 

I learned that there are people who really like to have fun and will ride 103 very difficult miles dressed as bees .

I learned once again to make sure that you can’t see the tube between the tire and the rim before you fully inflate the tire.  I learned that Sonoma County is a fantastic place where the  CHP, fire departments and 600 volunteers will all work tirelessly to give 3500 cyclists a fabulous day – I’d like to thank them for that.

Before the Fondo I had endless fantasies of the ride – fantasies that involved the man himself coaching me up the steepist grades and getting me there.  Hey, if  you’re going to dream, dream BIG!  The hilarity of that fantasy came into  sharp focus when we got to the aid station in Ft. Ross   We spoke to  some adorable girls who had everyone who passed through sign their volunteer shirts.      We asked if they had Levis’ signature and they said yes so we asked when he came through and they said 11:30.  It was 3:30 when we asked that question.  We only missed him by 4 hours!

Dreams and fantasies are good. They push us to do things we might not otherwise attempt.  If I had fantasized a ride in which I was unsuccessful at getting up  a hill and then had to toss it in  28 miles prematurely due to a blown tire (thereby garnering my first ever DNF)  I would probably have canceled the whole thing and just stayed home so I say dream  on.  Dream big and then do what you can to live the dream.   Without big dreams there would have been no Gran Fondo at all so thank you Levi for living large, dreaming big and making your dreams come true.  It was a great day.

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Saturday was long run day – I had to run 2 hours.  It was also a day when many members of my club race at the Back to School 5K or 10K and those not racing go out and volunteer.  Many of my New Triathlete Program people (NTP aka newbies) said they would volunteer and I really wanted to be there to see them the day before our big triathlon and just to be a part of it all.  I also really needed to go see my foster kid for whom I am an advocate through the Court Appointed Special Advocates program (check out the national site to see more).  This child lives hours from me so I had to allocate 2 hours to run and 5 hours of travel time plus the visit plus I had to be up at OMG:thirty on Sunday so I needed to get home early.  I couldn’t work out getting the race in (I guess I could have raced 10K and then run another hour but there aren’t any showers there and racing wasn’t on the plan) so I didn’t go and it felt sort of wrong but very right.  There are things in life that really are more important than triathlon and race clubs and foster kids in need of an anchor is definitely one of them.

My 2 hour run was fine – it felt good and that was exciting because the run and I have not been such good friends lately.  Score!

Sunday was the day of the race I’ve been training the Newbies for.  Most of them had already done a shorter sprint and some had even done an Olympic distance race but this was our big club event and I was so excited.  I didn’t race but I did do the swim with a woman who was very nervous about getting run over by the swim waves behind us (our club gets to go in the first wave en masse and there was quite a mass of us!).  I was there to defend her water space and help her stay calm and I did and she exited the water all in one piece.  After that I ran up to the bike course to cheer people on and then I headed up to the water station to cheer some more and pass out water. Turns out I positioned myself incorrectly and missed some people that way but it was fun.  Then I went down to the finish line to cheer everyone in.

I really wanted o stay and be at the award ceremony and just hang out and talk to everyone about their race  and I wish I had because NTP had people on the podium! How great is that??!!  Alas – I had a long ride on the plan so off I went with my 2 new BFFs and a friend of theirs.  It was a tough, long ride and it was hot and windy but it was great.  There was a moment when I was sure I couldn’t do it and I really worried about how I was going to get out of there but some cold water and a PayDay later and I was fine and rode strong – no problem.

Elevation from gpsvisualizer (top) and from MapMyRide (bottom)

That's it - you ride almost 40 miles and this is what is there

We got back to the park where our cars were right about the time the Challenge Weekend Celebration BBQ was starting but we were sweaty and gross and really needed to get cleaned up.  I had neglected to bring clean clothes but my BFFs had several outfits each with them as well as soap and shampoo and cream rinse so we all used the outdoor, cold water shower and cleaned up in our tri suits and then put clean clothes on (in the privacy of the ladies changing room) and finally, finally headed to the party arriving a mere 90 minutes late to a 2 hour party.  Great.

But it was great because I got a chance to say some words about my fabulous Newbies who stepped up and trained and made their dreams come true.  I’ve hatched a litter of tri-junkies and I couldn’t be happier about it.  I’m so proud of them and so very happy to have played a role in giving them a chance to do something they might not otherwise have done.  I said my words and I handed out a little memento to each of them and then they took the floor.  One of them read a whole story about how there is no “I” in  TEAM and about how great the program had been and how she had made friends and accomplished something wonderful.  Another woman gave a speech about me that made me blush and made me proud and made me feel loved  and then they gave me something to remember this inaugural season with – a Garmin 310XT and a $50 gift certificate to Forward Motion Store, our primary benefactor.  Wow – just wowl  *Channeling Sally Field* -“You LIKE me… right now.  You  LIKE me!”  I’m so humbled and so happy and so very jazzed about my new toy!  But I’m more jazzed that several of the newbies want to ban together to train for an Oly.  Success!

Looking forward, one of the things possibly on my plate is getting a slot for IM Canada when I race Oceanside.  Because it is so early in the year the carrot they dangle to athletes is the potential to get a slot at any of a couple of NA Sports M-dot races and Canada  is one of them (but shhh… don’t tell everyone about this because it’s kind of a secret, okay?).  I have several friends who are going to race and a few more racing Oceanside so they can get slots.  It’s a possibility but one I don’t think I’ll take because this weekend I figured out something really important about me.

My “moment” came when I realized that triathlon is a fundamentally self indulgent endeavor but I am not a fundamentally self indulgent person.  I spend a lot of time volunteering and giving to others because I like it and it makes me feel good.    I feel good about having become an athlete, too but the trade offs cause me stress. This weekend was a great example of that where I was torn between being with my race club and being with my foster kid and being with my race club and getting in my training.  I had to just take a deep breath and let it go but it was difficult.  It all worked out in the end but in the process it made me feel a little crazy.

I’d like to do the NTP next year again and I’d like to help organize this year’s newbies to train for an Oly and I’d like to train with them.  This year my direct participation in their training fell off because I signed up for Beach 2 Battleship and if I raced Canada I’d have a worse problem because it is in August and the training would consume my whole summer.    So again – the opportunity for conflict and stress is huge and I’m a ‘want it all’ kind of gal.  I’m a problem solver, too so here’s the solution:    I’m going to race Oceanside which means training up  a 70.3 on  March 27.  I’ve also decided that  I’m going to attend IM St. George in some capacity.  If I love 140.6 after B2B I might do a fund raiser and buy a community slot for 2010 (I’d pay my $550 and raise the rest) and attend IM  St. George as a participant.   If  I don’t want to do that I can just go be a Sherpa and then sign up for 2011 on-site.  Either way my IM training and season will be over in early May at the latest  and I can get on with the business of playing, training  newbies, and racing shorter distance races.  Brilliant and perfect and what a great Monday it’s been.

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In the last 2 years I’ve done this with FeLady, Mr. FeLady and some friends of theirs (J and P) and it has been a ton of fun.  This year the FeLadys were not able to come due to school starting so I figured it would be just me doing a solo act although their friends would be there.  I just didn’t have a lot of hope of finding them in a crowd of 800 because my sighting is bad in those cases.  In fact my sighting is weak, oh so weak, a reality that would come back to haunt me viciously on this swim.

I really wasn’t feeling it.  In fact, I had a strong sense of doom and very nearly talked myself out of the race but I paid $100 bucks for it and I’m training for an IM so I made myself just keep moving forward.  I left the house late and then missed the exit I needed to take, found myself in the middle of San Francisco going the wrong way and hitting a red light about every 2 blocks.  I finally got back to where I needed to be but the red lights just kept it up – ugh.  I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get there in time. Wishful thinking.

Finally got there, parked at Ft. Mason in a 2 hour slot (very risky) and started running to packet pick-up.  Only I tried to take a shortcut across the lawn of an historic house and ended up on the edge of a sharp drop off – no way down (duh!  It’s a FORT!).  Then I found some paths through a wooded area and even though I knew perfectly well they were probably made by homeless people I just kept going – until I hit a homeless encampment.  Oops!  I finally headed for the street and ran with my transition bag full of wetsuit, clothes, water bottle, etc.  It was kind of heavy.  I was running in slightly oversized FUGS (fake Uggs from Costco) that made a loud and annoying flapping sound and alerted everyone within a 100 yard radius of my presence.   Oh Lord.

I finally got to the building fully expecting people to be shaking their heads and saying ‘sorry – too late!’ but no such luck.  The line to get your chip was still out the door.  It’s game on!

Got chipped, suited up, got my stuff and started to head to the ferry when who should I see but Mr. FeLadyFriend (aka J) and wife – yay!  I instantly felt better for not being alone.     Only J is a swimmer, not his wife so we parted ways and got on the ferry.  J was explained how to get the best line to me on the way out.  Fat lot of good that did.

The boat stopped by the island and it was time to jump.  By now I was feeling much better about this whole thing but I was desperate to pee and really looking forward to the line up at the start where I would have time.  I said good-bye to J because I knew he would be out of the water long before me (he spent 3 weeks swimming 5,000 meters a day to prepare) and off we went.

Jumping off a ferry into the SF Bay is always a shock – that water is cold.  I was taking my time heading to the start because I had to get my face used to the water and I really needed to pee (I’m going to have to write a race report theme song called “Boy Did I Need to Pee!”).  Sadly, No time!  I didn’t make it to the line before the horn went off – drat!

My goal was to stay with people and not end up all by myself, off course.  Goals are really good but we call them ‘goals’ instead of ‘this is the way it will be’ for a reason.    I was with people, then I was near people and on my way over and then – no people.  I found the people and headed for them and then – no people.  Lather, rinse, repeat until I didn’t really see the people any more.  I didn’t see the red buoy on the lead boat, I saw only kayaks and I mistakenly thought that as long as kayaks were near I was okay.  I’ve made this mistake before but never quite understood the issue.

Did I mention I was wearing dark, mirrored goggles?  This is a big no-no in open water swimming and I know this.  Unless the sun will be blinding you you need to wear clear goggles so that you can see because being able to see = good sighting.  Dark goggles = short sight line = you’re not going the right way = story of my life.  That plus the night before, for the every first time ever I had to wear my glasses to see the TV across a short room.

The water was much rougher than I was expecting it to be, too.  It was smooth and glassy inside the sea wall but out in the open I was getting buffeted around like a gum wrapper blowing down a  windy sidewalk.  I tried not to be nervous about the current or the fact that I often couldn’t see over the waves.

At one point I knew I was not doing so well so I stopped, pulled up the goggles, looked around and there were some people so it wasn’t so bad. The big crowd was so far along I didn’t see them and I still needed to pee so I just hung out there and took care of business.  I just didn’t care any more.  I got my bearings, found something to sight on and got going again.   I could go on and on and on about how I couldn’t lock on to a target and wandered in the wrong direction perpetually but it gets boring so I won’t.

Ultimately I was getting closer.  I could see a big gray ship that I thought was right at the mouth of Aquatic Park so I headed for that.  As I got closer I realized I couldn’t see the Maritime Museum, couldn’t see the opening in the wall and couldn’t see the red buoy marking the opening of the wall so I stopped, started treading water and finally, FINALLY a kayak dude said, “head right – see that big red ball over there”  and I did – about 500 meters away to my right.  ARGHH!!  The good news was that  I was close so off I went.

click picture to enlarge

I got inside the park and got passed by a breast stroker.  Yeah – I know.  I drafted off her.  Other people were starting to pass me and I started getting very, very worried about a DFL but I was beyond fighting and this isn’t a race I do well in ever so I just kept swimming and I finally got out of the water.  People smiled at me in a way that said, “you have smutz all over your face” and said, “nice job!” and I felt my face and it was covered from top to bottom with sea smutz. Can’t wait to see the pics (not!)

I turned around to confirm my status and I’m happy to say I was not DFL.  I was certainly among the last 20 in but not the last. Regardless,  I was not happy.  I was quite cranky.  I was really mad at myself and really perturbed that the kayaks had let me go so far off course but I have to assume I was not the only one.  Some poor soul was probably sighting off of me – HA!  Big mistake.

Mad as I am about the whole thing and as much as I feel like a loser I’m all too aware that many people reading this would never, ever voluntarily find themselves in the middle of the San Francisco Bay and you think I’m quite the stud for jumping off the boat in the first place.  I also feel a deep gratitude that I have the ability to swim that far in bouncy water and come out alive and well in the end.  All of that health and vitality are a gift and I try really hard not to forget that.

Tomorrow I go on a century ride.  I can follow the road and that’s a good thing.

Post Script:  The kayaks are out there to keep you from going too far off course.  If you are swimming near them then they are probably in the process of herding you back where you belong.  Lesson – don’t sight off the kayaks and if your trajectory takes you toward them stop and find something solid and unmoving to sight on.  I sincerely hope this isn’t a lesson I have to keep learning over and over.

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Race Day  –

Setting up – One of these things is not like the other:

We got to T1 to set up and I unrolled my socks to discover that one was the kind that goes just to the top of your shoe and the other one was an ankle sock.  I should have taken a picture but I didn’t.  I did decide that the mis-matched socks were a good luck charm and carried on.  I didn’t have a lot of time before my wave went off so  I went through the normal pre-race port-a-potty panic (I was still in line with 14 minutes until my start) but it all worked out and I was on the beach in my wetsuit, cap, goggles and wearing my chip with moments to spare.

The Swim – Is for Fish    

Meh.  I swam.  As always I spent the entire time wondering what the hell I was doing in the water.  Water is for fish – people don’t belong there and OMG will I NEVER get to the turn around???!!! When I finally got there I felt something hit my foot and realized it was the bottom of the river.  I could see the bottom of the river and I could touch it. Absurd.  I stood up to take a look around and then dove back in, being careful not to scrape my nose,  and finished my swim doing my normal crazy zig zag  in my normal 45 minutes which was okay because I have not been swimming much lately.

T1 -  Bikes!

There were bikes still in the rack!!  I was very excited and uplifted by that.  I had a hard time getting my wetsuit off (nothing new there!) but I got it all together, stuffed my wetsuit and towel and cap and goggles in the plastic bag and took off.

The Bike – What Scenery?

When I first got going there was a woman with a 59 on her leg ahead of me.  I decided I would just pace off of her for while but then I felt like I was going too slow and it bugged me so I passed her.  We played cat and mouse for a long time and I came to know her as “59″ because I didn’t make nice and exchange names with her.  I was killing it on the hills and she would pass me on the flats.  I finally got tired of 59 and just dropped her at about mile 40, before Chalk Hill.  I didn’t see her again for a very long time.

I noticed a few interesting things on this bike ride. First of all I noticed every once in a while I would look up and think “oh – it’s so pretty out here” which was a distinct difference from last year when I found the race so annoying for disrupting my sight-seeing time.  Last year as I got near Chalk Hill I found myself in the center of a lot of chatter about the hill and this year I was annoyed at the prospect.  But  I wasn’t cruising with a steady crowd all around me.  I was riding and either passing people or getting passed but no one was tittering about a hill that really isn’t that big a deal.

I had wanted to have a 20 minute PR over last year’s bike split of 3:37   As I got to the top of Chalk Hill and looked at my watch and saw 3:45 I wanted to cry.  How COULD that happen??? I was so much faster.  Then I looked again and realized that was 3:45 total – including the swim and T1  and I looked at the other time on the watch which was 2:53 so I was happy – oh so very happy because in my head T2 was down the hill and around the corner.  Only it wasn’t. The ride kept going and going and going and I started thinking “give me some chute – this distance is killing my time!!” and then I thought “oh – yeah – that’s how this goes. PEDAL FASTER!”

Total bike time was 3:19 which was 2 minutes longer than I wanted it to be but it was still great.  According to my favorite pace calculator 56 miles in 3:19 is a pace of 16.8 mph which made me very happy.

T2 – bikes, damnit

I found my spot easily and switched my stuff.  Nothing interesting there except there were alot of bikes in the rack. I put that out of my mind because it was women 45+ so that was 3 age groups below mine as well as my own so big deal, right?  I did my best not to dwell on the obvious and just got the hell out of there.

The Run – My Journey Through Hell 

I started out running and thinking “oh my – it’s hot” and found myself really pushing to keep running to the first aid station which is just after mile 1.  Not a happy thing.  In fact I found myself walking very early on and thinking “come on – just run. You can do it – just run” but it was really hard.  It also occurred to me that the race was going to take a very, very long time if I kept walking so I did my best to run when I could.  Every time I saw someone in FoMo team kit I tried to pick it up and whoever saw me would say “You look great!” When my friend Joe said that to me I responded,  “Is always better to look good than to feel good” because I did not feel good.  I felt wrung out and limp and hot… so very, very hot.

I tried to focus on short term goals – the next aid station, that cow up there, the next house, “run the flats you can walk the hills” but it was a death march from the get go.  I forged on  just waiting to get to the winery which gets you to the half way point.  When I got there I convinced myself that the irrigation ponds and the moisture from the grape plants  made it cooler and that it was easier to run on the dirt. That worked and gave me a good mile’s worth of running and then I made a decision to stop at the porta-potties as I came out.  Big mistake.  Huge mistake.  It was even hotter in there, I didn’t really need to go that badly and when I got who should I see right ahead of me but 59.  DAMMIT!  I started running and I passed her and said, “and so we meet again” and made some comment about the heat but pretty soon I found myself walking again and she passed me and I just couldn’t muster the energy to take her.  I let her go.

With about 4 miles left, after walking for way too much of the race, inspired by 2 men who had decided to walk the whole thing, I got sick of it all.  I also got passed by a woman with 55 on  her calf and I thought “oh no – I’m losing another place.  This is no good at all” I picked it up and ran and passed her and then I started to walk and she passed me. I started thinking I would let her have it and then I thought “OH NO YOU DI’NT!” and I started running and she started walking and I kept running.  I had no idea where she was but after considering letting her take my place a couple more times I resolved to hang on and keep her behind me and I did.

The Finish

I forced myself to run from one light post to the next…. run to the mailbox and you get to walk from 1 light post to next and then run, run for 3 light posts and you can walk for 1 and then finally, finally I was at the point where people were cheering and ringing cowbells and I ran.. I ran and ran and ran because the Vineman has the most torturous path to the chute of any race in the world and you hear “almost there – just 5,000 meters to go!” over and over and then finally you are running on the grass and you run some more “just 100 meters to go!” and finally you hit the first mat and you know the guy is looking up your name and then you hear you name and WOO HOO!!!! you smile and give a little what what arms in the air and finally, finally you are DONE!

I was more than done  I was cooked to well done.  Charcol briquet done.  Don’t even stick a fork in me because I’m so dried out  it will just blow a hole in me.  Done.  And just after I crossed that line 55 came in behind me – 11 seconds off my time – woot!

My run took a whopping 2:50 and more than eroded the bike PR for a finish time of 7:02 over last year’s 6:55.  On the plus side I didn’t die  – I didn’t even quit.

In Conclusion

The biggest thing I learned, and I’ve learned it before which is why it was such a big lesson this time. is that I never, ever, ever want to finish another race wondering if I could have gone harder.  I feel that way about this race.  I know it was very hot but I’m not convinced I worked as hard as I could have and I hate that feeling.  This isn’t the first time I’ve felt that way but I intend to make it the last time.  Oh yes I do.  And you know what?  The next time is a new race.  There’s always a new race and another day and you can always try again and tri harder.

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Things I love

1).  A great day in the wine country going on a bike ride with Juls, Runner Susan and her lovely husband The Chef. We had such a great time!  Runner Susan is everything you ever dreamed she was and more – sweet, adorable, entertaining and the hostess with the mostess.  The Chef is charming as only a man in a white cycling kit can be.

We had a beautiful ride and then we went back to Susan’s room to shower and go for lunch.  The Chef provided glasses of ‘recovery juice’ that looked and tasted remarkably like red wine and was just what I needed.  Then The Runners Susan took us to a delicious lunch where we consumed some more wine.  Fabulous.  After lunch I would rather have gone back to the hotel with the whole gang for a group snuggle nap but I’m pretty sure Julie and I would have fought over Runner Susan and The Chef would have gotten jealous and felt left out so it was better to just hit the road.  Not sure I was totally legal for that but we made it to my house where Julie and I proceeded to pass out on different couches.      

I wish I could go on vacation with the Susans all the time and that we could take Julie with us.

2).  My jet lagged daughter apparently left her wallet on the roof of the car when she got gas and a man picked it up and walked to our house with it.  He removed not one cent of the roughly $85 that were inside.  I got the call about that while drinking wine and eating delicious food in Napa which made it a doubly lovely day.

3).  I  found a new cycling route today and it has a big hill – just enough to make me work but not terrible.

Things that make me mad:

I had some of these.  I remember thinking “grrrr… I need to put this in HDM” but now I foget what they are.  And that’s probably one of the things I like the most.

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The club ended up putting together 4 teams -

- Real Runners Don’t Tri   (who put the smack down on the next team)
- Fableux Americains (the triathletes, a.k.a The French as in smack talking French Olympic swimmers who end up not winning)
- Larry’s Lounge Lizards (pretty fast runners out to have fun)
- FoMo MoFo Mamas (12 women of varying talent)
I was  (and still am) a MoFo Mama, a title that fits me well.

The race had over 200 teams, each with 2 vans containing 6 runners.  That’s a lot of vans and a lot of people so they stagger the start.  Our team was the slowest of the 4 so we started at 9:30 and our Van 2 ladies came all the way up to Calistoga so we could be a  team at the start line.

Click on image to see more

It was a nasty, rainy day and the vans made a mud pit out of the field we pulled into.   At 9:30 our first runner took off and the Vans took off, too – Van 1 to the next runner exchange and Van 2 headed out for breakfast.  4 hours later it was my turn to take my first run which was 4.85 miles, covered in 44:21 or 9:08 a mile.  Unfortunatly the rain had stopped because I could have used a good downpour right about then.  That’s a really good  pace for me and I was literally cooking.  One of the reasons I ran so fast((in addition to  the fact that it was a race) was because I knew that I was all the stood between everyone in the van and lunch!

The cool thing about being the last runner in the van is that both vans full of people were at the hand off so I got double the cheers – awesome!  That first handoff wasn’t so memorable but lunch was.  We went to a restaurant, put in for a table and I headed off to the ladies room to change out of my sweaty clothes.  When I came out the group was gone!  Abandoned! Except for one woman,and then I found another and then we found the rest of the group and had a really delicious lunch at a BBQ and wine place that was so fabulous I wish I could give you the name but alas…. I forget.

Back into the van and off to the Van exchange spot we went.  That turned out to be in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception at all.  We had no way of knowing how far out the other van was other than to guess.  We slept a little, wandered around a little and were met by The Real Runners at one point who had left at 2:30 and were already passing us up.  Nice!

Handoff accomplished we headed off to repeat the process of going to the runner exchange, handing off and moving along.  At this point  it was dark and we were getting a little punchy and I wasn’t really clear on why this was so much fun.  It was fun but it wasn’t the ribald, best time of ever experience I was expecting. 

My next leg started in Ross, CA  at about 1:30 AM or so.  The crowd of runners stood on the sidewalk by an office building being shushed by the volunteer in charge because in Ross they don’t tolerate late night noise even if it is generated by people raising money for cause.  Whatever.  Off I went, through the center of Sausalito and up, up, up to the Golden Gate Bridge.  That part was very cool.  The bridge is closed at night and as you approach a volunteer opens an electronic gate.  It’s like being let into a prison.   The part that was less cool is that the hill getting onto the bridge is long and steep and the damned bridge is uphill-ish until the 2nd tower.  I ran every step but it was hard.  Finally I saw the toll booth, the bridge started heading down and I started hauling ass.  I ran into the crowd and was told – go left! so I headed left and was told go Right! through there!  So I headed right, through there and was told – go across the streetf and turn right – almost there!  so I ran across the street and was told go right!  Almost there.  I was really tempted to yell IN A PIGS EYE! but in fact, there was my runner so we high fived (having lost the rubber bracelet hours ago) and off she went.    My run was 5.8 miles in 59:40 for a 10:15 pace.  Not bad considering it was mostly uphill.

So now it is 2:30 AM or so and we are exhausted.  A women on the team is a Marriott employee so we headed off to the Marriott  for a shower and a nap.  When we got there at 3 AM the lobby was full of inebriated Rugby players and their goofy drunk Rugby Roadies.  One of them asked what we were doing so we explained the race and he smiled and said “You guys are awesome” and looked at me and said “can I give you a hug?”  This was big, guy with the look of an islander about him and I said, “you don’t want to hug me – I just ran and I’m gross and sweaty”.  Rugby guys, especially the drunk ones,  don’t care about such things and he insisted so I gave in and lay my  tired little head on his chest while he wrapped his big, meaty arms around me.  If only someone had had a camera.  I could have fallen asleep on my feet in his vodka infused arms but  check-in was completed and I was hauled off to our room where I got a shower and a nap – a  2 hour nap.  2 hours.

Next up was the Van exchange at Cañada College where the walls came tumbling down.  At this point I was so beat that all I could think of was getting it over and going home.  I was not alone.  When the Van 2 ladies came in (minus their runner who was out on the course) we told them we were just going to run our last legs and then head home.  I went so far as to tell them we wouldn’t mind if they DNF’d.  Seriously.  This was a disaster.  They were angry and hurt and let down and we were  polite but defensive.  I don’t know how I ended up being the spokesperson but I did a really bad job of it.  I kept saying that we just couldn’t handle going to Davenport and waiting in the car for 5 hours or so in the rain.  We were tired and we just needed to go home.  On that sour note we headed out to swap runners and move along.

Do I look a little tired?

My last leg was a killer.  I had to run stragiht up hill for 3+ miles.  No break – just up, up. up. I ran it, too. The van stopped on the road several times to give e water and I got the driver to take my picture

Me running uphill for way too long

I managed to run those 3.2 miles in 40 minutes at a 12:30 pace which I thought was pretty reasonable considering the terrain.  I only wish it had been raining harder – I could have used more rain.

When I got to the top of the hill there was the whole gang and the other ladies, the ladies of Van 2 were so nice and encouraging and kind and I thought all was well.  Off we went in our Van and off they went in theirs to finish the race. We headed out for Mexican food and margaritas.  For reasons none of us understood our driver, the one male Mama in the pack, decided to post a picture of us enjoying our meal to Facebook where it was seen moments later by the Van 2 Mamas who were still out in the cold and the rain – just as exhausted as us and who really did NOT appreciate that picture!  Damn you iPhone Nation!

Suffice it to say the next couple of days were spent mending fences but the great thing about being in  this club and about doing something like that together is that we were able to patch things up and plan a party so the Van 1 ladies and make dinner and margaritas for the Van 2 ladies.  Beats the hell out of holding hands, eating s’mores and singing Cumbaya.

The Relay was really fun and I don’t  mean to overplay the big blowup but it as fun as the race was I think that episode sort of defined the experience for me and taught me a very important lesson. If  you do one of these events do not, under any circumstances or for any reason make decisions 24 hours into the race when you’ve had almost no sleep. That way lies madness. 

As I wrote to the very most wounded party of all

If I learned nothing else during The Relay I learned that no one should say anything to anyone at Cañada  College other than “holy crap balls am I tired!” or “where’s the food and the sleeping mats?”.

This is particularly true if you are racing in the rain.  Had it been a beautiful sunny day we would have thought nothing of heading down to the finish and slapying ourselves out on some blankets in the sun to  catch a few winks while we waited for our team but no sleep + cold + rain + prospect of hanging out in car = putting on the cranky pants. I only wish we had left them in the van and just said “Good Morning!”

*In all fairness to Santa Cruz the parking is limited and on a nice day all those vans just cause a nightmare of traffic problems.  Not that we had a nice day but you know….

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ps- if you want to do this race just do an M-Dot 70.3 that has slots.  They were rolling way down the list at Oceanside so it’s a good bet you’ll get in.

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First of all I’d like to offer a shout out to my traveling companion and roomie Melinda.  We had only ever met once before on a ride and you just never know what you’re going to get when you’re about to spend 16 hours in a car and a couple nights in a hotel room with an almost stranger but she was great.  We had a really good time together so thanks for being my bud, Melinda!

Second of all I had a brief blogger meet up with Don of Studio YVR who I spotted at registration. 

Race Day

The Swim – I have a signature move!

It was really cold and windy in the morning.  I think everyone was pretty concerned that our hands and feet were half frozen before we’d even stepped in to the chilly waters of the Pacific Ocean but it was show time so oh well!  They send the waves off in 3 to 4 minute increments so you all have to line up in a chute by a sign that has your wave number on it (mine was 13) and then you are herded into the water.  Much to my delight that water felt warm and it didn’t occur to me that it was because I was so cold. I figured so many people had peed in the harbor they had raised the water temperature and on that delightful thought I swam out to the starting buoys.

BLANT! the air horn goes off and for the  first time in my history as a triathlete I had not one shred of panic.  I was just swimming in a crowd, trying to find some space and feeling good about my abilities.  I should have savored that moment quite a bit longer and remembered it later in the day.  I was doing great sighting, sticking close to the buoys and just counting to 100 over and over.  Then we got to the turn around buoys -yay!  I knew I was supposed to be sighting on the jetty to the right so why I took off to the left is any one’s guess.  I went from being in a crowd to being all alone which should have been a clue to look up and see where I was but no – my signature move is to get chased down by a kayak dude who is there to tell me I’m way off course.  And so I was – signature move accomplished! I just wish that kayak dude had seen me sooner and been faster because by the time he caught me  I was at least  50 yards parallel to the rest of the pack so I swam back that way and blindly made my way into the sun and back to the ramp.  As I approached the ramp I saw a big round bouy on the right and bunch of triangular buoys to the left of that which clearly meant swing right and head between them.  So I keep heading left until some guy is yelling ‘SWING RIGHT, SWING RIGHT!”  Signature move dos!  I finally find my way out and the swim is done in roughly 45 minutes – same as Vineman.  I was okay with that but clearly I need a new signature move.

T1 – Out of the water and the wetsuit helpers got me unzipped.  I should have asked them to strip me on top because as I started to run I pulled down the right sleeve which promptly got stuck on my stop watch.  And I mean stuck.  My left hand was frozen and inoperable so I just started running along shaking my hands in front of me like a nervous Nelly with stage fright.  By the time I got to the bike I had just enough dexterity to claw my sleeve off and get stripped and suited up for the bike.  FYI – I swam with my arm warmers under my wetsuit and that worked great.  I didn’t need them but I think I saved myself some sunburn.  Suited up and ready to rumble I was off.  T1 -  5:34  and I had no idea how it compared to Vineman.

The Bike – SCREW YOU WIND!

The bike started out great.  I felt like I was flying and in retrospect I must have had a tail wind.  I didn’t know that, though and  I was pretty high on my speed.  I got passed plenty because the waves behind me had all kinds of men and much younger women and I knew I’d be passed and I didn’t really care about that because I was doing a fair amount of passing myself.  Most of the ride is kind of a blur.  It was fun and pretty and speedy for quite a while.  I just kept anticipating  ‘the hill’ which I knew would come at about mile 40.  Only that wasn’t ‘the hill’.  The real hill – the one that kind of sucks the life out of you is the first little steep thing at about mile 28 and steep it is.  You can see it well ahead of time and you see a line of people snaking up it like ants.  I was still sort of naive when I got there because I was still thinking that ‘the hill’ was at mile 40.  I also thought this hill was about an 8% grade but no.  Turns out it gets as steep as 13% according to Melinda who has a Garmin with a really good altimiter in it.  I stayed on my bike and just ground it out and passed quite a few people – especially the ones that bailed and were walking their bikes up the hill.  Admittedly I used the small chain ring because I had it so why not?

After that the other hills didn’t seem like such a big deal and I just kept going. I never needed to resort to the little chain ring again and I was passing people like crazy on the climbs.  However, once the hill climbing was done I found that  I wasn’t going very fast and I was pretty upset about it.  Were my legs that trashed?  Was I on a false flat? What the hell?  None of the above  – it was the wind.  The in your face, frustrate you to death wind.  I hate wind.  Hills I don’t mind because I get gravity and I know I have to fight against it but wind is invisible. It makes noise and it pushes a little but mostly it makes you work really, really hard to keep up your forward momentum and I find it maddening. I could feel my 16+ mph average speed slipping away and it really bothered me but there was nothing to do but keep plowing through and get to the end of the ride and I finally did.

As  I approached the chute I noted my time on the bike (a temptation I resisted the entire ride) and was totally disappointed to see that my time was the same as Vineman.  Seriously.  In spite of the hills and the wind I was disappointed because I wanted a big PR in this race and so far the swim and the bike had been even.   This was the start of my undoing.
T2 – I was quick!  I got out of there in 2:22  but had no idea that was 2 minutes faster than Vineman which, had I been thinking about it, would have meant that I was set for a PR.

The Run – SCREW YOU SAND!

Out of the chute, down the road and into the sand.  Boy did that suck!  We had to run for about 1/4 of a mile on the beach 4 times.  Most of it was wet and packed but part of it was dry, fluffly sand that could easily have caused you to rip your knees apart.  I think I high stepped it the first time but after that I just walked that part in the interest of not getting hurt.

Anyhow – I had already given myself permission to take the first 3 miles to get my legs back which was good because they were really tight and hurting.  It seemed like it took forever to get to the first turn around and just before I got there I started thinking about how slow I was going and about how I would not have a PR and that lead to “I hate triathlon, I hate me – I suck, I have no business being out here, no PR for me today, Who do I think I am, I hate myself” and the tears started to well up in  my eyes.  “Oh no you don’t!  You do NOT get to cry and feel sorry for yourself.  You are doing a 70.3 mile race and you will finish and YOU WILL  NOT CRY!” and as I started to supress the tears something very bizarre happened.  I could feel my airways all slowly constricting like a deflating balloon and it freaked me out.  I’ve never had an asthma attack but I figured that’s what it was and was gasping for air  so I started walking and  forcing myself to relax and open up my airways.  Fortunately I was successul and I was at the turn around and that meant my 3 miles were up and it was time to run.

I ran – I picked up speed and I was doing great but now I was in pain and I was freaked out about the asthma thing.  I think I was wheezing for a little bit but then I seemed okay and I was just trying to run a 10 minute mile.  My plan had been to hold a steady 10 minute pace.  This was not to be, though.  I finally resorted to walking for 1 minute every once in a while.  I walked every other aid station.  I walked the sand.  I ran slower than a 10 minute pace and just kept going.  At that point my goal was to finish in a reasonable time.  I also realized I had no idea what my Vineman time was but I thought it was about 2:20.  Turns out it was 2:24 so had I known that and had I known that my T2 was 2 minutes faster I might have worked a little harder but no – I allowed the ugly inner voice that says “you suck” to have it’s way.  I hope it enjoyed that experience because THAT WAS THE LAST TIME, BUSTER!  In the future I WILL NOT BE BALKED!!

Finally I was off the sand for the last time and on my way in.  I ran because the crowds were thick and walking just didn’t look good.  I ran across the first set of mats that give the announcer the heads up that you are coming in.  I ran down the chute and they called my name and I gave a little hands in the air what what and I finished!  I had no idea what my time was.  As it turns out it was 2:29 – just 5 minutes off Vineman and net 3 minutes down from Vineman. 

The Finish

I had a crowd of team mates cheering me in and giving me hugs.  To Dana, Julie, Kate and Maggs I say thanks!  It’s so nice to have a welcoming committee just on the other side of the line.  I got my medal and shirt and hat and got my chip off and then went back to wait for Melinda to come in.  Later when I went to check the results they were up to 7:07 and I couldn’t find my name so I was sure my time was at least a 7:10 and I was really and truly bummed.  It wasn’t until later I found out that I came in at 6:59 - just 4 minutes behind my Vineman time. 

Lesson learned – no more stinkin’ thinkin’.  Had I known how close I was I would have worked a little harder and suffered a little more to at least meet my Vineman time and I would have been happy.  At this point I am happy.  I raced well and I raced hard and I’m a real rock star for doing it.

I’m re-energized about Vineman, too.  For a while there I was sorry I had signed up and just wanted to quit pretending to be a triathlete.  Yes – that’s how I was feeling. Now I’m ready to train hard and just kill it up there so look out you 55-59 year old ladies.  The new me is coming to get you.

Postscript -

I need to focus on always, always, always working as hard as I can no matter how I think I’m doing, no matter how bummed, no matter the pain.  This is racing and racing hurts but when you get done and you know you have given it everything it feels great and the pain is all worth it.  I think I’ve come this way before but I just didn’t grok it and I had no confidence.  I’m finally, finally coming to a place where I believe in myself as an athlete  and if I’m going to race I’m going to make it good.  This is particularly important given how expensive these races have gotten.  I can do a personal tri any time I want but entering a race means it’s business time.

The aid stations and the crowds were great at Oceanside.  They put your name on your bib and so many people called out “Keep it up, Pamela”  “Looking strong Pamela” Only 2 people called me Pam.  The kids at the aid station were very enthusiastic which, it turns out, is because they had a contest to see who could get the most votes.  They worked hard and it was great.  The military was great, too.  This race goes through Camp Pendleton and  makes a mess of traffic so a huge thank you to the people of Oceanside who had to endure long waits to cross the road and to  law enforcement and the military for directing traffic.

Forward Motion Race Club had a great day at the races.  We had 2 Kona qualifiers and 4 people on the podium.  Congratulations to Dean, Kim, Steve and Kate, all members of our Elite Team. Well done!  Everyone had a good day and a great time.

Oops – I sprayed myself with sunscreen but forgot that the new kit had a different cut and I missed spraying my back.  That was my last lesson learned:

How would this look in a backless evening gown?

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Uno – The Ironman 70.3 Championship race is going to air on NBC on April 12. Here, for your viewing pleasure is a trailer.

If you tossed your hat in the Kona Lottery ring be sure to watch because the names of those chosen will be scrolled across the screen.  The fun begins at 4:30 EST.

2 Peas in a Pod-  My health care insurance “provider” and I use that term loosely since right now they provide me with a way to spend a lot of money for insurance I can’t really use, did something spectacularly idiotic the other day.  Imagine that.  They used an automated phone message and sent a glossy, expensive mailer describing a FREE language service they offer for non-English speakers – in English.  Way to reach out to your target audience, idiots!

Three Amigos – I’ve been fretting about my weight lately.  I know, I know I am not SUPPOSED to do that because it makes my daughters think  I am being neurotic and stupid but I do it so I’m writing about it. Anyhow, my weight seems to have taken on a life of its own and the number on the scale just keeps getting bigger.    The other day I realized that my dark jeans seems like they fit really well and then I remembered that when I was at IMCDA last year I kept complaining about how big my damn pants were and how they kept falling off – so much so that DPRwas about really to throttle me.  So when I realized the dark jeans fit I panicked and then I had a thought. I reached around the back where a leather patch should be and there was none.  Different pants.  Different size.  Smaller.  No worries.  PHEW!  I’m still annoyed with my weight but I’m not going to deal with it until after Saturday.

Quatro - more fun with advertising.  I caught an ad the other day for a men’s hair color product called ‘Touch of Gray’.  It combs over gray selectively leaves enough to keep you swaggering around with that distinguished look.  The last line of the commercial, uttered by Mr. Only-Gray-Enough-To-Look-Distinguished was, “Now I look like I know what I’m doing and can still do it!”  with the hot babe winking at him from across the room. Subtle, non?  No. 

  Then there was an ad for the Schick Quattro Shaver for women that handles all of your hair removal needs.  It passes over bushes in various shapes with various shaping needs, the last of which is in the shape of a triangle.  So very subtle. 

Lastly- I’m out of here tomorrow. I’m doing a little memorial/tribute run tonight to support the family of one of the fallen police officers who died at the hands of a parole violator with some automatic and semi-automatic guns in his possession. Tragic.

I’m feeling okay about this race but just okay. This post is sort of emblematic with me dodging the reality by distracting myself with other stuff.  I’ve trained more than I trained for Vineman and I’m stronger but this is a harder bike course so I don’t have a good sense of how well I can do. Whatever it is will be fine. I’m fortunate to be able to do this at all. I’d like to say that I’m satisified with that but I’m not. I’m already afraid of failing myself on this one. I’ll just have to channel that fear into some speed and have the best race I could possibly have. I know I’ll have you all cheering me on and that helps – believe me – it helps a lot!

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1). Drive By Compliment –  The other day when I was riding up Mt. Diablo in the middle chain ring feeling pretty fly a most amazing and complimentary thing happened.  A very large SUV with 3 cute guys in their late teens or early 20s started to pass me as they were coming down the mountain.  The kid driving had his window open and he pointed at me and said “YOU!  are beautiful”   So to the adorable kid in the big SUV, “Thank you!  YOU made my day!”

addendum – I think what he meant was “for climbing the mountain at your advanced age” but I dug it, anyhow.

2). Look and Feel –  How do you like my spiffy new template?  Pretty clean and nice, eh?  I owe it all to Runner Susan who is the bestest bloggy friend a girl could ever, ever have.  If you want you blog sexed up and beautiful you really must avail yourself of her services through the Masthead Factory.  You won’t regret it!

3).  Training is solidly under way and my thunder thighs are feeling well used.  I had almost forgotten about that ‘hurts so good’ feeling but I must admit – it is good.  Me gusta, mucho!

4).  Dating and romance make me crazy.  I’ve had 3.2 dates with the man I like and I like him all the more so now I’ve already transcended to the crazy woman who is insecure and sure he is going to dump me any second.  That does not hurt so good – it is absurd and stupid and I need to stop it.

5).  On Feb 7 there is a national ALS fundraising event called The War on ALS put together by the Blazeman Foundation.  ALS is a nasty, nasty disease that takes your life inch by inch; day by day.   I am a participant in this indoor Spin-a-thon and will spin in a trainer or stationary bike for 2 hours or so.   Not that big a deal for me but 16.5 hours seemed a little over the top.    I am raising money. I’m hoping to get people to donate $16.50 which would be 1 dollar for every hour John Blais spent making his life long dream of becoming an IronMan come true.  5 bucks works, too!  So does $1.65.  Anything, really.

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The Holidays -This year the plan was to go to the East Coast and visit my sister and her family – a plan I liked very much.    However, because I was leaving town I felt no compulsion whatsoever to decorate my house.  Further complicating and alleviating my holiday season at the same time was our collective choice to exchange only handmade gifts.  This meant no Christmas shopping.  Don’t get me wrong – NOT having to scour a thousand stores in search of the perfect something to get someone even though I had no idea what that person needed or wanted was sheer bliss.  Not spending hundreds of dollars on tchotchkes to fill stockings with was equally exhilarating.  It did, however leave me feeling a little empty and not quite filled with the spirit of the holiday which I found quite surprising.

I did what I could to fix that by making gifts (wine charms) and making candied walnuts (to die for!) and eating the chocolate covered cookies the Good Doctor brought home from the office but still – something was missing.  And then it wasn’t.

Our travels to the East Coast went relatively well. I was excited to be flying from Oakland to Baltimore a then Providence because that’s practically direct!  Only the airplane in Oakland had to make a little stop in San Diego first.  Not so direct.  Oh well.   My son missed a connection and I was delayed 90 minutes but there quite a few people in Baltimore being told that the Southwest might be able to get them on a flight Christmas day.  This was on the 23rd.  I had no basis for complaint and my heart broke for these poor people. 

We finally arrived at my sisters at about 2 AM EST and the next day my Humbly Ann and her husband and their puppy arrived and Christmas was ON!  We spent 4 fabulous days eating, drinking, playing games, watching movies, cooking, baking, eating, hanging out and loving each other.  The holidays just don’t get any better than than.

Getting home seemed to take just about forever (Providence to Midway to ABQ to Oakland) but get there we did and the house was intact and I had Pookie with me so again – no complaints.

My Birthday- We left my sister’s on the 28th and the 29th was my 54th birthday.  I waited until just after midnight on Sunday to rifle my bag for the package my sister had put in there. It was a really beautiful beaded necklace from Roatan.  In the morning I celebrated  by going for a bike ride and climbing Mt. Diablo to the junction.  Because I had been off my bike for a couple of weeks and had only run 1 time in CT. my legs were fresh and not even a teeny bit sore.  I’m pretty sure that is the only time I’ve ever climbed that hill on fresh legs and I really enjoyed it.  The air was crystal clear and the view was spectacular.  You could see all the way to the Sierra.  I ended up spending the evening alone but then went to a birthday sister’s (we share the same birthday)  house for cake and she let me share blowing out the candles.

New Year’s Eve – I ended up going to a friend’s house for pecan pie, champagne and we watched Pride and Prejudice.  Low key but perfect.

Year End Wrap Up- 2008 was not a great year in many ways.  I only worked for 4 months and the economy just got worse and worse.  My family and I all enjoyed strong, good health, though and I’ve come to think of that as the thing against which I measure good or bad.  In that respect life was very, very good.  Also,  I had a great racing year, moving from a back of the pack athlete to a solidly middle of the pack athlete and I liked that.  I liked it a lot.  I failed to note my year end totals for mileage but I think it was about 2200 miles on the bike, 550  miles of running and 105 or so miles swimming.  Not too shabby.

The New Year- As I was swimming and riding and running over the last couple of days it occurred to me that tons of the people I saw had just dusted off their lazy asses to execute on yet another New Year’s promise of getting in shape whereas I was just continuing to do what I do.  And yes – I did revel in an overblown sense of superiority.  I don’t do that often so please – don’t harsh my holier-than-thou.  It was fun for a minute or 2.

 I’ve made 2 resolutions for this year:

1).  Get a job.  This make take a few more months but it WILL happen

2).  Get a boyfriend.   I’ve had 3 dates and have another one tomorrow night and a 2nd date on Friday with a man I rather like.  I guess I’ll have to do a seperate post about the dates if you are interested.

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Don’t go out too fast …. and
It’s all about the shirt.

This weekend’s 20 miler gave me an opportunity to be reminded of both – one in a good way and one, not so much.

The race was the Clarksburg Country Run featuring several distances. I originally registered for the 20 mile race but had the option to change to the 5K, the 1/2 marathon or the 30K. My original thought was to do 20 miles as a testing ground to decide if I wanted to run the California International Marathon on Dec 6. I had pretty much decided against that so I thought I might switch to the 1/2 Marathon and go for a PR but then I decided to stick with the 20 miler because….. because… well just because.

I went up to the race with 3 other women from Forwad Motion including my training partners Dana and Maggs. The ride up was beautiful, winding along sloughs and vineyards. Lovely. We got our chips and bibs and then went for the shirt where we were pleasantly surprised by this:

Nike Shirt from Clarksburg 20 miler

It is a beautiful technical fabric shirt and when you fondle the fabric – like buttah. The shirt alone made the $40 entry fee well worth it.

This is in contrast to the shirt I got at the Folsom International Triathlon which has to be the fugliest race shirt I have ever gotten. It is cotton which makes it pretty useless to start with but check this out:

T-shirt from FIT '08

I have no idea what the artist had in mind there but that shirt did NOT make the $75 entry fee worth it. Fortunatly it was a great race and they had burritos afterward so it all worked out.

Back to Clarksburg, though – I started out with the idea that I would run 20, 10 minute miles. That was my plan and it was a good plan – a very good plan. I believe I could have done that, too. It isn’t what I did, though.

The day was perfect – sunny and about 60 degrees. I started out running with Dana and Maggs and we were pulling about a 9:05 – 9:10 pace. I knew that was all wrong and I decided I would drop back at the 5 mile marker – only I didn’t. I stayed with them. Then at 6 miles I said I would drop back and I sort of did but not by much. I was still quite close to them. In fact, by the time we got to the turn around I was only about 1/4 of a mile back but definitely losing steam.

I was happy, though because this run was non-stop pretty, taking us along country roads through vineyards with no traffic at all. I could see Mt. Diablo off in the distance, bumped up again a clear blue sky with a row of fluffy clouds marking the horizon. The view was a great distraction because I took the no-iPod rule seriously and had nothing else to keep my mind off the pain blossoming in my quads.

At the 1/2 marathon marker (and they did have one) I PR’d with a 2:06:30 and I was still okay – barely. By 15 miles I was toast and in pain and at 16 miles some women we had left in the dust at the start passed me. I was done for.

The last 4 miles were a walk/run death march but I made it – I finished in the official time of 3:26:20 for an overall pace of 10:19/mile. I was in serious pain and none too happy but whatever. Done, done.

This little race also served lunch which turned out to be ziti with canned sauce and salad made with iceburg lettuce mix but they did have fruit and water and it was clearly a community effort and I loved it.

Lesson learned once again. Do NOT go out too fast. It just doesn’t pay, particulary with me. I tend to run out of 02 and then I need to stop and let my muscles re-oxygenate and it takes time. Next time I race distance (which won’t be for a while) I’m going to take myself seriously and hold back. Hopefully I’ll get a great shirt out of it, too.

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My first pain is that I really, really, really want to register for the New York City Triathlon but there are a bunch of reasons why that might not be my race this year so I just can’t.  Registration for USAT members is open now and it costs $225 and I SO want to do that race.  It’s killing me.  That would be a great time to go to the East Coast because I could do the race and then go hang out with my sister.  However, there are other vacations that I want to take and there is Vineman 70.3 just a week before the NYC triathlon and then there is the small matter of me having no money right now so I’ll have to let this go by.  *whimper*

My other pain is in my legs.  OW.  I went on a ride today with Dana and Maggs and I was pitiful.  Every time we went uphill my thighs just burned and they never got better. I bailed at the top of a big hill because going down the other side was even steeper and I knew I’d never make it back up.  I bid them fairwell and headed home, going in circles for a bit because I have such a bad sense of direction.  I made i eventually, though and now my legs are still in pain.  I’m not sure what I’ll do tomorrow.  I’ll let my legs figure it out for me.

Of course the last pain is the kind induced by eating too much sugar.  Stupid Halloween!

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