Today kicked off marathon training. I have taken my old TNT calendar and done a little augmentation a al Hal Higdon and Bart Yasso and I’m off and… running – yeah – I’m running. This was my first run since March 1 which surprised me. It guess it really has been about the bike and the pool and not so much about the run. Might have something to do with the abysmal weather we’ve been having.

Today I was scheduled to run 5 miles assuming I am in the Level 3 group which is made up of experienced, consistent runners. Of course my hammies were still sore and tight from the bike ride so I decided to just go out and make a distance decision on the fly once I got to 3 miles. I ended up going 4 in a not particularly stellar time which is okay because today was supposed to be an ‘easy’ day. I’d like to say it was easy but it was not. It never is. My run looked like this (which you can’t probably read):

My times were:
mile 1 – 10:16
mile 2 – 11:15
mile 3 – 11:37
mile 4 – 11:53
Not the desired result but that’s what it was.

I did not wear my new shoes because the weather is ugly and I didn’t want to dirty them up right away. In fact, I picked the only time during the day when it wasn’t pouring rain so I lucked out there.

I have high hopes for this marathon season. I am going to do the miles, do the cross training and do the strength training and I am going to try to run a sub 5 hour marathon. 4:59:99 would be fine.

Oh – and I’m probably going to do another metric century on the bike on May 6. I think I really did lose my mind on that last one.

Addendum:
This came our schools Daily Bulletin Today. All I can think is WHAT??

Come to the vanilla bake sale after school on Friday March 31 to support the Women Leaders for the World program.

A bake sale for the Women Leaders for the World program?? Somehow that just seems wrong.

I’m not sure I really grokked what Dickens was talking about when he said that thing about it being the best of times and the worst of times but I get it now. The Cinderella Classic 2006 brought that phrase into very sharp focus for me. This piece is almost as long as A Tale of Two Cities so I’ve titled the subsections so you can pick and choose what to read.

Getting Going
My friend C who got me in to this thing picked me up early Saturday morning and we headed out to the event after picking up friend B. It was pouring rain and all we could do was hope for the best. By the time we had parked the truck the rain had stopped – a good omen. Registration for this thing was extremely well coordinated and we got checked in in a heartbeat. Another good omen. Friend E showed up and got her stuff and everyone was ready to go. Only problem was that I had no bike The sweet little $4400 bike I was using on loan wasn’t there yet. Finally at 8 AM I told the others to go because I didn’t know how long it would be. This was a mistake as the guy got there about 10 minutes later and I got the bike in the next 5. Oh well.

I hopped on this bike that I had never ridden and thought WHOA – I’m riding on air! This little bike was suweet!! It weighed NOTHING! I messed around with the gears a bit to figure them out and get used to them and then I was off. I was awesome! I was a powerhouse! I passed woman after woman and was just flying down the road. Lady Garmina tells me I was moving at 12 – 15 mph which is a good clip for me and much faster than I move on my Trek. There was but one word to describe this early experience – Bikegasm!

Disaster strikes and I get robbed

At about 12 miles I notice a strong vibration in the front end of the bike and realized I had just gotten a flat. DAMN! I stopped and got the front wheel off the bike and was about to apply my tire changing clinic know-how to the situation when a Sag wagon stopped. I was really grateful for that because I had forgotten to bring my pump although I did have a spare tire. Anyhow, sadly enough it turned out the Sag Wagon guy was no master at changing tires I knew I was in trouble when he was unsystematic and really rough about getting the tire off. Then he manhandled the tube out by the valve stem which of course tore. So much for that tube. Long story short he had a hard time getting the new tube in and when I started riding there was a bubble and then BAM! The tire blew. He changed it again and it seemed okay but no – 1/2 a mile later BAM – it blew again. I was so tempted to assist him and exert my own tire changing knowledge but I wanted to be gracious. After all this guy sacrificed his Saturday morning to help with the ride. In retrospect I could have both been gracious and helped out and come out ahead but we all know that thing about hindsight, right?

What happened instead is that he looked at me and said, “I could do it again but it might make more sense to go to the rest stop and see if someone who is better at this can do it so I agreed. Sadly, that meant that I rode 10 miles in a car and was thus robbed of actually riding my bike 65 miles not to mention missing out on what turned out to be the best part of the ride.

On the road again

We got to the rest station where I got some food and water and then took the bike to the tire pumping tent and got the flat fixed properly. That guy was good! I finally got back on the road and as I recall the next part of the ride was fine. We wound through some countryside and then through an industrial park, such is California. Still no rain but the wind really started picking up. I was a little spooked about my front tire but decided to just keep riding and assume it would be fine.

They Call the Wind Mariah – I call it Torture.
16 miles later I was at the lunch stop. I made and ate a sandwich and tried not to be too upset that it was now clear that I would not be rejoining my friends on this ride as they were easily 45 minutes ahead of me.. I got back on the bike and headed out again. At this point we were really heading out to farm country and the wind got really strong. I’m pretty sure it was blowing in the neighborhood of 20 – 30 mph and it was relentless.

For the most part we were heading straight into it. I have never worked so hard on a bike in my life. Not even those Dr. Seuss like elevation maps held a candle to this wind. I started to get really aggravated because we were out in beautiful farm country – there were cows and horses and sheep and goats. There were barns and vineyards and beautiful green hills (that’s what it looked like last year). And the wind blew and it blew and it blew and all I could do was clutch my handlebars, drop the bike into first and pedal, pedal, pedal. My glutes were tighter than the skin on Joan Rivers face and I hurt. My groinal area felt mashed and bruised and yet even going down hill if you didn’t keep pedaling you would come to dead stop and fall over.

I kept glancing up hoping to see a turn – desperately yearning for a turn. Every time I saw that we got to hang a right I rejoiced only to be crushed again when we turned left. There were more miles heading straight in to the wind than having it blow at our sides and when it did blow at our sides we had to list to the left to keep from getting blown over. It was brutal.

In Which I Lose My Mind
I started losing my grip on reality. Like a prisoner who hasn’t seen the sun for days I attempted to reconfigure what I was going through into something else- anything else. I imaged that I was sailing and that wind was a huge bonus but I wasn’t fooling myself – not for a nanosecond. Instead my thoughts turned to how lonely I was, how sad it was that my friends didn’t wait for me (no matter that I told them to go ahead and then had a flat tire disaster). When I had last spoken to one of them via cell I suggested they wait for me at the last rest stop and she told me that C and B had their husbands coming and didn’t want to hold them up. E said she would give me a ride home, instead (her husband didn’t come out with her). Ugh – husbands. Everyone had a husband but me. I started feeling so sorry for myself and grumping that being alone was the story of my life. I had gone to Europe alone when I was 19. I had driven across the country alone at 23 and now here I was at 51, out in the middle of nowhere fighting the wind and I was alone again. I was alone, had always been alone and would, forever after be alone. I would die a lonely old cat lady who works as a Walmart Greeter. I was doomed So what if there were about 100 women around me. So what if I have great friends who love me? Oh and kids, what kids? Loser, loner, pariah.. I hate my life… I hate myself….. I CANNOT STAND THIS WIND ANOTHER SECOND AND BY THE WAY I HATE BIKING!

I know – I’ll Quit!

And then it hit me – I could quit! I could just get to the next rest stop and toss the bike in a sag wagon and get a ride back to the start. That’s it! That’s what I’ll do. I planned my whole speech to justify not finishing. Why put up with this pain and this crap wind and oh by the way it was hailing on us now. I’m wet, I’m cold, I’m tired and hell, I don’t even like cycling anyhow! So what if I have this cherry little machine? I HATE THIS – I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! IS THIS REST STOP NEVER GOING TO MATERIALIZE!!!??? Pedal, pedal, pedal….grrr…. rumble… rumble Hello cows, hello sheep, oh please stop the wind, oh please God have mercy.

I started trying to compare what I was going through to my last marathon. I was in some significant pain half way through that race but at this point in the ride that struck me as a higher quality of pain – more endurable, almost pleasurable. Never mind that my first stop after the finish line was the Red Cross tent. It wasn’t so bad and by the way did I tell you I HATE BIKES! I really want to quit.

The Lemon Drop Man
There is a man who goes out on the course every year and hands out lemon drops to the riders. I had forgotten about him but as I was pedaling up a hill and a man started to hand me something I said, “Oh – are you The Lemon Drop Man?” and he said, “Are you my Princess” and I said, “Yes, yes I am, I am your Princess”. And I had a lemon drop and I had a Prince and the prince told me that if you made it this far you were going to make it to the end and I kept going – pedal, pedal, pedal. ” (that’s not me in the pic. My pics aren’t up yet)

The Last Rest
At last, the rest stop materialized and up I went to find something. A sag wagon? Some water? My mind? I didn’t even know. I got some water and overheard some women saying that the wind should only last another 5 or 6 miles. Someone else said it was mostly downhill to the end. I took heart. I drank another glass of water and turned my trusty steed around and got back in the saddle. There was only about another 16 miles to go and I could do that – I was sure of it.

After I had been riding for a couple of miles I realized something important. I was riding strong, I was not hurting too much and felt good – really good. Instead of pedal, pedal, pedal, grrr, rumble, rumble I was really moving – Lady Garmina confirms that I was back to the 12 – 15 mph pace I had enjoyed at the beginning.

The only thing I did wrong was I kept anticipating the end without really knowing how much further I needed to go. That anticipation of finding the finish around every corner was a little annoying but not too bad – I still managed to ride well. I hooked up with a couple of women who obviously do a lot more cycling than me and made it my business not to fall behind and that turned out to be great strategy.

The Finish

Not too far from the finish I connected again with my friends via cell phone and learned that C had decided that she and her husband would stay to take me home. When I got back I (almost tearfully) turned in my beautiful bike – my new best friend, and filled out a questionnaire. I walked up to the clubhouse and there were my good friends sporting big smiles, just waiting to greet me. My dementia vanished in a second and I once again felt befriended and loved.

Success!
I did it – I finished the race and I felt good. My butt was sore, my butt bones felt mashed and I was disappointed to have missed 10 of my 65 miles but my heart and soul beamed with self satisfaction. I hate to admit it but I’ve already found myself using the phrase ‘next time’ today. Could it be that my mind is still wandering around out there with the cows?

Shout outs
1). To C for inviting the rest of us to do this event with her and for having the delicious pasta feed Thursday night. Good times
2). To Valley Spokesmen for putting on such a fantastically well organized event. The start was fast, the food was great, the Sag support was plentiful, the CHP were out in force in case anyone got hurt and they needed to summon help and a good time was had by all in spite of the horrific conditions. You are a commendable club.
3). To all of the Princes working the ride – the Sag wagon guys as well as the food servers. Special thanks to my Sag wagon guy for being there and doing what you could to help.
4). To Specialized Bikes for loaning out their new line of women’s bikes for testing and feedback. You are my new favorite company
5). To Justice Baxer of Wheels of Justice for taking up the call with Specialized and staying at work until 8 PM on a Friday to fit riders to bikes. Justice you rock and your bike shop is my new favorite store.
6). To E for crowning us Women of Iron and giving us a sticker to prove it.
7). To B for joining the party and for that Apple Cake recipe – yum!
8). To the RBF for all of your support
9). And last but not least, to me for going the distance

Next!

When I got home my new Gel Kayano XIs were sitting on the kitchen table in a box having just arrived via UPS. Tuesday I start training for the SF Marathon. I can hardly wait!

It is 5:45 AM. In 30 minutes my friend will come pick me up to go out to our ride – a metric century. It is raining. Not sprinkling – raining. I have some nylon pants (not bike gear AT ALL) and a wind breaker and that will have to do.

On the plus side, I got the bike. It is very fancy and light weight and has been fitted to me with expert care and precision. It will make me feel like a stud. I just wish I could feel all crisp and sun shiney and healthy. Oh well – a stud is a stud, right? RIGHT?!!! And healthy? Oh you bet. Only a healthy person would ride a bike 65 miles in the rain – right?!! RIGHT??!!

At least I wasn’t planning on wearing a tiara, tutu and boa like a lot of the women. This ride is the Cinderella Classic and they go all out. I prefer to be a woman of iron so no foo-foo stuff for me!

Stay tuned for a full report.

Tomorrow I am supposed to going to ride my bike 65 miles, something I have never done before. I’ve done the reverse – 56 miles, but never 65. The good thing about this is that I will PR – it’s for sure! I may even have a fancy bike to ride compliments of a bike shop that is lending out some demo bikes. If so I’ll let you know if it really is about the bike or if Lance was right.

It is pouring right now – hard. Oh please, oh please, oh please let it stop!

Thanks to all for your kind words regarding my loss of a friend. On Sunday there is going to be a gathering of family and friends to tell stories and remember him. That will be good. Hopefully I will cry like a baby and then I’ll feel better. Or maybe I will be crying because my ass is so sore from the ride. We’ll have to see.

Good luck to Bex in her marathon – woo hoo!

Tomorrow I am supposed to going to ride my bike 65 miles, something I have never done before. I’ve done the reverse – 56 miles, but never 65. The good thing about this is that I will PR – it’s for sure! I may even have a fancy bike to ride compliments of a bike shop that is lending out some demo bikes. If so I’ll let you know if it really is about the bike or if Lance was right.

It is pouring right now – hard. Oh please, oh please, oh please let it stop!

Thanks to all for your kind words regarding my loss of a friend. On Sunday there is going to be a gathering of family and friends to tell stories and remember him. That will be good. Hopefully I will cry like a baby and then I’ll feel better. Or maybe I will be crying because my ass is so sore from the ride. We’ll have to see.

Good luck to Bex in her marathon – woo hoo!

I was reading Elle’s blog today and was finally forced to admit something true. Maybe writing about it will be cathartic.

Friday I got a call on my cell phone to tell me that a friend had died. Not just a friend. This man was my very first boyfriend after I got divorced. He was the man who freed me from my stupor and fear and made me realize that just because I was 37 and had 3 small kids my life was not over and I would still be able to have fun. And we did have fun. We skied and we hung out at his beach house and he teased my kids like some sort of crazy uncle and he was affectionate and attentive and he really cared about me. He was probably the first man I had ever been with who really appreciated me as much for what was between my ears as for anything else. He was a quirky, interesting and very engaged person. He was also 18 years my senior and at some point I started to feel a genuine generation gap so I changed the relationship from lovers to friends. He was predictably gracious about it and we stayed close over the last 13 years.

I found out about a year ago that he was battling leukemia. His prognosis was quite good, though. More recently I had spoken with him after having to track him down. I was worried about him and rightfully so – the disease was back and he wasn’t doing that well. His sister answered his cell phone and told me he was in the hospital and that she would let me know when he was out. I didn’t hear from her or from him so I called again and learned that he was going to be put on some aggressive chemo but that he didn’t have to stay in the hospital for it and of that he was thankful. Turns out the chemo gave him dementia and really took a toll so they changed his protocol. I checked on him once again and he said it was going better. I meant to go see him – I really did. I told myself every day that I needed to call Chuck and arrange to go see him. I knew he didn’t want visitors when he was feeling sick but still – I just didn’t call. And then his sister phoned me to give me the bad news. All of a sudden he took a turn for the worse and he was gone. And that’s it. No more Chuck – no more first boyfriend, no more crazy Uncle, no life long friend.

I’m still stunned and more than a little angry with myself for not getting up to see him. Granted, he really didn’t want visitors when he was not feeling well and he was upset about losing his hair. Still – I just didn’t make the time and I’m sort of sick about it.

Grief is weighty. Grief can suck you dry. Grief compounded with a self inflicted guilt trip is even worse. I know he wouldn’t want me to feel that way and I know I won’t feel this way forever. I’m going to try to muster up the energy to ride strong on Saturday. It’s the least I can do for him and for me.

I was reading Elle’s blog today and was finally forced to admit something true. Maybe writing about it will be cathartic.

Friday I got a call on my cell phone to tell me that a friend had died. Not just a friend. This man was my very first boyfriend after I got divorced. He was the man who freed me from my stupor and fear and made me realize that just because I was 37 and had 3 small kids my life was not over and I would still be able to have fun. And we did have fun. We skied and we hung out at his beach house and he teased my kids like some sort of crazy uncle and he was affectionate and attentive and he really cared about me. He was probably the first man I had ever been with who really appreciated me as much for what was between my ears as for anything else. He was a quirky, interesting and very engaged person. He was also 18 years my senior and at some point I started to feel a genuine generation gap so I changed the relationship from lovers to friends. He was predictably gracious about it and we stayed close over the last 13 years.

I found out about a year ago that he was battling leukemia. His prognosis was quite good, though. More recently I had spoken with him after having to track him down. I was worried about him and rightfully so – the disease was back and he wasn’t doing that well. His sister answered his cell phone and told me he was in the hospital and that she would let me know when he was out. I didn’t hear from her or from him so I called again and learned that he was going to be put on some aggressive chemo but that he didn’t have to stay in the hospital for it and of that he was thankful. Turns out the chemo gave him dementia and really took a toll so they changed his protocol. I checked on him once again and he said it was going better. I meant to go see him – I really did. I told myself every day that I needed to call Chuck and arrange to go see him. I knew he didn’t want visitors when he was feeling sick but still – I just didn’t call. And then his sister phoned me to give me the bad news. All of a sudden he took a turn for the worse and he was gone. And that’s it. No more Chuck – no more first boyfriend, no more crazy Uncle, no life long friend.

I’m still stunned and more than a little angry with myself for not getting up to see him. Granted, he really didn’t want visitors when he was not feeling well and he was upset about losing his hair. Still – I just didn’t make the time and I’m sort of sick about it.

Grief is weighty. Grief can suck you dry. Grief compounded with a self inflicted guilt trip is even worse. I know he wouldn’t want me to feel that way and I know I won’t feel this way forever. I’m going to try to muster up the energy to ride strong on Saturday. It’s the least I can do for him and for me.

I went for my last training ride yesterday as the Big Event is next Saturday. We took a route that covers some of the ground of next week’s ride and was, without question, the most gentle terrain we have ever handled. In spite of the gentle sloping and generally non-hilly nature of the ride I had a very, very difficult time and managed to desecrate my psyche with self loathing. This was really inopportune and undeserved and typifies my biggest inner struggle with athletics. I was raised to think of myself as a chubby, gawky person and I just can’t seem to get out of that box, crush it and toss it in the garbage can where it belongs.

Back to the ride – from very early in the day my legs were killing me, I was slow and I felt really lousy primarily because I couldn’t keep up with the other 3 women – I couldn’t even come close. Usually I fall behind on the hills partly because I have the lowest end bike, partly because I have spent the least time cycling but mostly because I am slow(<- see what I mean?? arrghhhhh!!). Yesterday I couldn’t keep up with the pack for more than 5 minutes before I would fall behind – way behind. The pyschological impact of that was devastating. The part where my friend fell in a creek while waiting for me didn’t help. Here is the elevation map:

Although it may look like we handled some big hills we only changed elevation by 350 ft over 10 miles. That’s a gentle up followed by a gentle down with a few not all that steep hills thrown in the middle. On one of them I actually walked my bike up the last 50 yards – I NEVER DO THAT! This ride was nothing like the last big one I took where I kept my butt in the saddle and wasn’t too far behind the group and yet I just couldn’t hack the load.

I was just about to write a post on working to achieve our potential and I was going to riff off of Little Miss Runner Pants most excellent post about how running has had such a huge positive impact on her life and oh baby – I had a good one in my head. Going on a 56 mile bike ride seemed as good a jumping off point for that post as anything so what do I do? I blindside myself with self-loathing because I had a bad day.

Next week will be better, won’t it?

My new tenant is Lou of Life as Lou. Lou is a lot of things I am not and a lot of things I am. She is a SAHM and an Air Force wife and she is religious. I am not now, nor have I ever been any of those things. Although she is religious she is not above going to a Passion Party – I’ve never been. She adores her children but occasionally does something that could surly lead to the loss of her mothering license and that we do have in common – I’ve done my share of inadvertant bad mothering things. She is funny and clever and and very entertaining so I encourage you to go on over and enjoy the view from her pages. You will be sure to get a chuckle or two.

Last time I tried this my blog was worth about $500. Check this out from today

And I owe it all to you, people – oh yes I do.

I have a list of things to write about that includes:
1). The first baby bird flies from the nest
2). I’m a middle of the packer, not a loser at all
3). I’m going to register for a 10K – I have goals
4). Potential – it ain’t just a difference in electrical current

But first I have to finish my taxes so that baby birds 2 and 3 can get some financial aid for next year. Stay tuned.