CHLORINE: THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

Ask the majority of triathletes which is their least favorite leg in the sport, and they will tell you the swim.  When I talk about the swim portion with my fellow trainees, the reactions range from distaste to outright disdain for open water swimming.  The thought of the swim, I believe, has even kept high level athletes from even attempting triathlon.  Many runners use cycling as a cross-training workout, but ask them to add one more sport and they will shudder.  Then there is me.

As a kid, I learned how to swim before I could walk.  It came naturally to me, and I joined the city swim team by Kindergarten.  Accumulating a shoebox full of ribbons from meets, my dad helped me develop a love for the water.  At the time, my dad was the coach for the city swim team, as well as the High School teams.  Many of my early memories take place at some pool somewhere.

Well, as with anything, life happens.  I found other interests.  By middle school, I was no longer swimming in order to spend more time with music.  In High School, I returned to swimming competitively.  Practice was almost every day after school, and even at the darkest hour of the morning for the Varsity team.  I specialized in Freestyle, Backstroke and springboard Diving.  My fastest 100-meter Free clocked in at 59 seconds (pause for a moment to think about that).  This still stuns me, and it’s a feat I’ve never been able to replicate.  I was frequently selected for the Backstroke leg of the Relays.  When I was a kid, I used the be one of the fastest swimmers, but the time out of the pool reduced my speed to being on the bubble to make Varsity.  I was one of the fastest swimmers on JV, but one of the slowest in Varsity.  I never made State, and after two years on the team, I got burned out, having over-committed myself to music, theater and swimming in 1990.  Don’t even think about how long ago that was.  I dropped swimming out of my schedule once again in favor of music.

I don’t know how different my life would look now had I stuck with swimming my whole life, but I know there is a reason.  My life looks the way it does, and I believe I am exactly where I need to be.  But every once in a while I wonder…how far could I have gone…

Since High School, swimming was solely recreational.  I would swim laps when I had the opportunity, the motivation and a pool nearby.  Swimming came in fits and starts, and there was always something else going on.  Then somewhere along the line in 2004, I had heard about the Danskin Triathlon Series, where an all female field provided an environment of positive, almost non-competitive support for the triathlon newcomer.  I thought I would give it a shot, knowing that the ½ mile swim would be the least of my worries.

Fast forward through 10 years and as many triathlons.  Today, my swim stroke is not what you would see in the Olympics.  At one point, I was called “lazy legs.”  Competitive lap swimming requires ridiculous kick speed – which I did not have.  But open water tri swimming does not put as much emphasis on the kick, which is perfect for Lazy Legs.

The swim is still my favorite leg of the sport.  So few triathletes feel this way.  Because of the aforementioned history, I like to say that I “backed into” triathlon.  Running comes naturally to most kids, and learning to ride a bike is a rite of passage.  But not everyone learns how to swim a decent front crawl.  This is where I differ from many of my fellow triathletes.  Most of my training partners…putting it nicely…tolerate the swim.  Similar to how I tolerate the bike.  I always look forward to a swim workout, and to dragging my training partners to the pool (you know who you are).

 

So when I look at my training plan, I get excited about the swim workouts…until I read them.  You see, my training plans are well researched, carefully crafted works that are designed for the “average joe.”  Well the “Average Joe” has some swim experience, but not a lifetime of competition.  The “Average Joe” is likely a strong cyclist and a fast runner.  I am NOT Average Joe.  In the training plan, swims start with 1800 meters (think 4 lengths per 100).  I regularly complete a minimum of 2400 meters, even in the off-season.  So there is already a minor flaw in the plan…not ENOUGH volume (Okay, Heather.  Really?).  Problem #2: Warm-ups are almost non-existent in the “triathlete’s” plan.  As with anything, a swim warm up is crucial.  I spend 10 minutes poolside doing arm circles and stretches before I even get in the water.  Then I spend 800 meters of easy swimming before I begin a main set.  And by this time, most of my friends have had enough.

I have developed my own take on the triathlete’s training plan, which includes a book of about 100 different workouts.  This book is great for preventing boredom and mixing up the training.  Whenever the “Master Plan” calls for a swim, I disregard the author’s prescription, and refer to my little swim workout book.

The worst part, at least for me, is when I lose track of what lap I’m on.  When staring down at a blue line for an hour, my mind tends to wander.  I fall into a zen-like rhythm as the laps pass by, which is nice.  Then somewhere in the middle of a 500 meter set…um, was that length 8 or 10?  Dangit.  The second worst…kickboard.  Lazy Legs doesn’t like the kickboard.  I used to cheat and wear swim fins claiming that the fins will help me when I teach scuba.  Yeah, well I have size 9 ½ feet.  I don’t really need fins.

One of the major differences between competitive lap swimming and a triathlon swim is length of time.  Most indoor events range from 50 to 500 meters.  The shortest common tri distance is 800 meters.  The triathlete is less interested in power than they are in endurance.  Think of it this way.  Running a 100-meter dash is very different than running a marathon.

I love swimming.  Every workout is hard, even when I’m going for an easy endurance swim.  Until I gained a healthy respect and desire to run, I used to say that my favorite triathlons were the ones when I was done after the swim.  Unlike most triathletes, I’m not worried about a 2.4 miles swim.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/linnea-gregg/2014/01/37-things-only-swimmers-know/#HYYPptshpDaaYMoi.01

37 Things Only Swimmers Know

JAN. 29, 2014 By LINNEA GREGG

1. There are always at least two things hanging up to dry somewhere in your house/apartment, and they are a swimsuit and a towel.

2. People frequently ask if you are tired because it looks like you have bags under your eyes. Those are just goggle marks.

3. Literally every muscle in your body is used during your workout and it. feels. amazing.

4. When you’re underwater, the rest of the world gets blocked out. There’s only you, the movement of your body, and the freedom to let your mind wander.

5. … Despite the feeling of Zen you get from #4, on occasion you wish there were something to occupy your brain with as you swim. (Underwater iPod, anyone?)

6. But being truly alone with your thoughts can give you the opportunity to solve all of your problems, plan our your day down to the minute, discover the cure for cancer, etc.

7. You understand that swimming a mile is very, very different from running one.

8. The scent of chlorine never completely leaves your skin.

9. You have permanent tan lines, but they’re not the cool kind that you get from going on vacation.

10. Speedo.

11. Deciding to work out when you have a cold is worth at least five minutes of serious thought.

12. Abdominal muscles/strength are a point of pride.

13. There is one brand/style of goggles that you swear were made to fit your face perfectly.

14. Trying to get into your swimsuit when it’s still damp can almost take away your desire to work out. (Almost.)

15. “Fast,” “medium,” and “slow,” can be arbitrary labels for the lanes. When the pool is crowded one should try to follow these signs, but if it’s not – why waste an empty lane?

16. You learned, the hard way, that you should never leave your swim cap somewhere that will heat up for an extended period of time.

17. … Because you actually use a swim cap.

18. There’s a fine, fine line between leaky goggles and a massive headache.

19. Instead of 1, 2, 3, it’s 25, 50, 75…

20. Your cardio is also your strength training.

21. “Going to the pool” or “going for a swim” means something different to you than it does to most people.

22. It’s only cold when you first jump in.

23. Your hair stylist has uttered the phrase “Your hair is beautiful but it’s so damaged by all that chlorine.”

24. Working out feels better when you can’t tell that you’re sweating.

25. You have an opinion on circle swim vs. splitting the lane.

26. The line “Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink” from The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner resonates with you on a spiritual level.

27. Baby powder exists so that the experience of pulling a silicone swim cap over your head doesn’t totally suck.

28. You have to bite your tongue when a non-swimmer thinks they’d be pretty fast in the pool because they work out or have a significant amount of muscle mass.

29. Sports-related injuries are an unfamiliar territory for you, because there is no stress placed on your bones or muscles during your workout.

30. You’ve planned your workout around strange and specific hours because the pool you use is only open or available at certain times.

31. And a trip to the gym isn’t so simple, because all of the equipment, dressing, and undressing that you need to effectively complete your workout.

32. Swimming in a lane with a total stranger teaches you how to share…

33. … but you still prefer having your own lane. It is a rare and exciting luxury.

34. There’s an art and etiquette to passing your lane partner, or being passed.

35. Passing or being passed also has the potential to make or break your mood during your workout.

36. You have regular lane partners or lane neighbors, but you may not necessarily know them by name. Still, you respect them and feel a connection based on the recognition of dedication.

37. Land workouts are great, but there is nothing quite like the way your body feels after a swim.

image – Shutterstock

TODAY…RIGHT NOW.

The Spring thaw has begun, the Olympics are half over, and my toenails are growing back.  Although the lull between the marathon and Ironman training has been put to good use (lots of skiing, and getting over a huge cold), it's time to enter into another season.

So it begins.  Today is my first official day of training for Ironman Boulder.  It's the first day out of 168 days. 24 weeks from today, it's all over.  Hundreds of hours of training stand between me and reaching my goal.  There are friends of mine who are all doing the same race, but each training plan is as unique as their fingerprint.

This event has been on my calendar since mid-November, when I purchased an online training plan.  Through the website TrainingPeaks.com, I got a 24 week plan geared toward women who have some experience with triathlon, but is entering their first Ultra-distance event.  The plan includes a 100 page training guide that covers nutrition, training techniques and race day tips.  It starts with 5 to 6 hours of training a week for a few weeks, then quickly gains momentum.  By summer, I'll be clocking 14 to 16 hours a week until mid-July.  The taper…well, let's not get ahead of myself, so ask me how I feel about the taper when it gets here.

Six months seems like a long time to train for one event.  Maybe it is, but this is uncharted territory.  I don't know what kind of preparation I will need to bring to the start on August 3rd.  I figure, 6 months gets me going well enough that when I end up with some cold my kid brings home, I still have a base upon which to build.  I also have a huge vacation planned.  My family and I are spending a week at Walt Disney World.  Let's just say, that I think Ironman may be easier.  I also would like to have some semblance of life outside of training.

Last year, I crammed 3 races into 5 months of training.  This year, due to budget constraints and lessons learned from last summer, I do not have any more races planned between now and Ironman.  Although I would love to do a century ride, the local schedule doesn't line up with mine, and traveling to an out of state race is out of the question after Phoenix, since I need so save a bit of scratch for the Mouse.

What am I doing differently this training season?  Well, lots of swim/bike/run.  Duh.  But also, I'm adding in strength training.  There are different schools of thought around this.  One idea is not to waste energy on strength training, as the sheer volume of triathlon training is already taxing.  The flip side, though, is weight training that is specific to the muscles and endurance building improves triathlon performance.  I'm talking light weights, lots of core work and high reps.  I also secretly love strength training.  Whether or not it will actually improve my performance, isn't as important reducing the risk of injury.  Basically, the stronger I am, the more I can take.

Another thing I want to do differently is eat better.  Actually, I think I'm eating better anyway recently, but I find my self being very conscious of my fuel intake.  Nutrition is considered the fourth discipline in triathlon.  Well, I have three words.  Girl Scout Cookies.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Lastly, I'm going to make an attempt at Heart Rate Training.  I may have to devote a whole blog over this issue.  In short, my heart rate data does not reflect the common "220 minus your age" maximum heart rate.  I have always struggled with navigating the data I do get, coupled with the fact that I have a hard time keeping a chest strap in place around my smallish ribcage.  But, I'm going to make an attempt at gathering this data.  It just makes me crazy.  Stay tuned for more on this issue.

Ultimately, my goal is to cross the finish line.  At all.  A respectable finish time, and my ideal goal is based on my 70.3 time of 6:15.  The general rule of thumb is, we double that time (12:30) and add an hour.  I would be beside myself if I finish Ironman in 13 hours and 30 minutes.   So what will that look like?

Well, anyone who knows me, knows my swim will land in the to 10% of my age group.  I'm looking at my 2.4 mile swim finish of 1:10.  As I'm not competitive enough to dial in my transitions, I'm hoping for sub-5 minute T1.  Then the bike.  I have no idea what 112 miles on the bike will feel like, but I'm shooting for an average pace of 17.5 mph.  This gives me a bike time of 6 hours 24 minutes.  Yes, it hurts to even think about it.  T2 has always been quick for me, but again, shooting for sub-5 minutes.  If I am to hit my goal of 13:30, my 26.2 mile run needs to come in around 5 hours and 46 minutes.  Give or take.

So here we go.  I want to thank you all for the support you have shown me so far.  It gets hard from here, so all of the "Atta girls" are huge.  I'm looking down a long road.  Some of it will be great.  Some of it…not so much.  By the way, you might want to buy stock in Advil, Gatorade and Chocolate Milk. I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now.  Scared?  Nervous?  Indifferent?  Excited?  Maybe all of it.  I almost want to say something inspiring and thought provoking…but, I got nuthin.  I guess, even though I have a well researched training plan and lots of motivation, I'm looking at this as a "one day at a time" process.  If you were to view my training plan, I have at least one workout 6 days a week already on the calendar.  I pour over this plan, moving workouts here and there in an effort to maximize the training. But today…right now...it feels like, "one down, 167 to go."

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN…THE OLYMPICS

To me, nothing is more inspiring than watching the Olympics.  I love both seasons when they come around, whether Summer or Winter.  The Summer games show athletic prowess in the true spirit of the Ancient Greek philosophy, but the Winter Games provide an additional element: danger.  In almost every Winter Olympic event (figure skating and curling I the only exceptions that come to mind), helmets are required.  Does that tell you something?  Frankly, going 90 miles an hour down a sheet of ice on a tiny little sled…face first…speaks of something not quite right in the head.  Oh, and then they call it SKELETON.  But dang is it fun to watch.

Although we are only a few days into the Sochi games, I am reminded of past performances…the ones that really stand out.  Scott Hamilton, Bonnie Blair, Picabo Street and the USA Hockey teams.  These folks were not only in their peak physical condition, but they made people stand up and take notice of their sport for a couple of weeks.  

But then I think about those that made headlines in other ways.  Remember Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards?  He was the British Ski Jump participant who turned heads by the fact that he came in, not just dead last, but by a significant margin dead last.  But I remember his goofy look and winning smile just as much.  He knew he wouldn't win a medal.  No one had that expectation of him.  He is the epitome of the Olympic spirit…that for so many athletes that participate in the games, just making it in is the accomplishment.  For them, they just want to be called an Olympian.

And what about Dan Jansen?  If there is a role model for me from any games, it is this guy.  For more of his story (in case you don't know it already) check out this video http://www.youtube.com/watchv=wPYiMekC6jk.  This guy had trained like a machine for years and years and years.  He participated in 4 Olympics!  As a thought experiment, think about where you were in your life during the Salt Lake City Olympics.  Yeah.  That was a while ago, huh?  Now imagine an athletic career lasting that long.  For those of you my age, do your knees work just as well as they did 12 years ago?  Right.  So this is Dan Jansen who, although he was favored to win gold in every games, only has one.  

Dan Jansen is someone I consider an "everyman."  Bad stuff happened at exactly the worst time…happens to all of us.  He had some really bad days…happens to all of us.  He felt like he wasn't even "all there" for some of them…wait, you, too?  He was distracted, frustrated, mourning…in effect, living in a human body with human emotions at a time when he was expected to be superhuman.  I admire his fortitude.  I admire his real-ness.  It is unfathomable to skate faster than humanly possible the day after your sister dies.  But he did.  And he fell.  Then he got up again.  Then he did it four years later.  Then he fell.  Then he got (are you sensing the theme here?) up again…and so on.  Until he got that gold…the fourth time around.  I don't know if he feels this way, but I see it as not being as much about the gold as it was about proving to himself that he could actually accomplish what he set out to do in the first place.  He wouldn't give up his dream until he achieved it.

Dan Jansen never quit, even after a slew of awful days, and less than perfect race events.  I am not an Olympian.  Never will be.  But I know what a bad day feels like, and I know what it feels like to just go out and get in a workout no matter how crappy my life is at the moment.  I know what it is like to train through the pain -- not physical pain, that is something different.  Working through the emotional agony of life-altering events through physical exercise.  DJ didn't use the excuse of his circumstances to justify his performance, but no one would begrudge him that if he did.  

So I wonder what that is, exactly.  What kind of internal drive brings that?  It's not just a don't quit attitude, stubbornness, or pressure from oneself, family, or country.  I think it's also about seeing yourself years later, looking back on the moment right now.  What if you have to say to yourself, "if I had only…"  Jansen showed up and tried.  Didn't go the way he wanted it to.  But instead of quitting before he started, he tried, failed, got up again, repeat.  As far as I'm concerned, he needn't have any regrets for suiting up and showing up.   

The lesson I take from his example is this: between now and Ironman, I'm going to have some bad days.  This is a fact.  It may even be a bad day on August 3rd (God, I pray that it isn't).  But I will suit up, show up, and do the best I can with what I have been given at that moment.  There are no medals in my future except the ones they give to everyone else who crosses the finish line.  There are no sponsorship deals, book contracts or news interviews for me.  But that isn't why I'm doing this, and I don't think that's why Jansen did it either.  I want to try my hardest at a sport I love.  

Hannah Kearney, Moguls medalist, recently referred to her relationship with skiing as her "boyfriend."  When we have significant others in our lives, we love them and do so much to be with them.  But to quote Billy Joel, "you may love 'em forever, but you won't like 'em all of the time."  I feel like that sometimes with triathlon.  Jansen probably felt that way with speed skating.  But, like with all good relationships, you figure out what the problem is, work on it, push through it, and hopefully get stronger.  Dan got stronger, and he has Lillehammer gold to prove it.  However, even without it, he's still a champion in my mind.

Before the Olympics officially started, Heidi Kloser sustained a knee injury in a mogul training run.  Her games were done before they ever started.  In tears, she asked her parents if they would still think of her as an Olympian.  What I found interesting is that she marched with her teammates -- on crutches -- in the next day's Opening Ceremonies.  I think everyone in the world would have answered her question with a "yes," but more importantly, I think she believes that she is indeed an Olympian.  I don't know, but in my mind, nothing matters more than whether or not you believe in yourself.

I am a triathlete, because I love to swim, bike and run, but I also believe I am an Ironman.  I just have to cross a finish line to prove it to myself.

RESTING ON MY LAURELS…BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE

It's more than a week since I crossed the finish line at the Rock and Roll Marathon in Phoenix, and frankly, I have hardly moved from my couch.  Before I give my account of the race, I have to say that God and my body have decided I need a break, whether I want to take one or not.  I came down with a nasty cold, leaving me voiceless and fatigued.  If there is a good time for an athlete to catch a cold though, it's right AFTER a race.  I figure it's God's way of telling me, "Hey.  Rest while you can.  You'll need it."  He also knows that I'd jump right back in the pool before I sufficiently recovered.  By the way, I can't just blame the running for a compromised immune system…I do have a Kindergartener...

But now to the marathon.

At the airport before my mid-afternoon flight to Phoenix, I started noticing people with "running gear." Basically, the "tribe" of athletes tends to wear their accomplishments.  Literally.  For example, a couple of ladies with Ironman backpacks and jackets gave me the impression that they were participating in Sunday's event.  I asked them anyway, "Will you guys be racing on Sunday?"  They looked at me, gave a reluctant look, and said, "well…yes…but I don't know if you can call what we do 'racing'."  I chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, racing…as it were, right?"  They laughed in agreement.  As it turns out there were many fellow runners and their companions on my flight.  More on the tribe in a future post, but it was refreshing to know that these perfect strangers had something in common with me.  I wasn't alone.

Now, I've never been to Phoenix.  It is really flat.  This is a welcome sight as the marathon start loomed closer.  Flat is good!  I enjoyed Phoenix, but I'm not sure I didn't walk into Stepford.  Everyone was super friendly, which I think comes from living in a sunny environment year round.  I didn't quite know where I was going, and finding my hotel was interesting.  Here I am with a rental car -- a Ford Festiva, which I could park in my back pocket -- driving out to the Arizona Biltmore.  This Frank Lloyd Wright icon was a race sponsor and offered heavily discounted rates.  However, this is a really. Fancy.  Hotel.  As I pulled up to the front, the valets were parking Jaguars, Porches, and Bentleys.  Here I come in my little Festiva!  I felt like I would have insulted the valets if I asked them to park my car.

Well, my first room was just above the lobby…and the bar…where there was live music until 11 every night.  Yes, I asked for a different room.  Overall, it's a great place, but if you ever go be prepared to spend $5 on mediocre coffee (not a latte, just regular coffee), and another $5 on day old blueberry muffins.

Saturday morning, I made my way to the Phoenix Convention Center and the health and fitness expo to pick up my race packet.  In the process of all of this, I was keeping an eye on my friends' flight from Denver.  I would be joined at the start line the next day by Mark and Sarah Richardson.  This fact alone makes this race memorable for me.

At the Expo, I wandered through the Brooks (sponsor) store, and saw a couple of great mirrors*:

*finisher pics to come

The Expo is a great place to get free stuff and great information.  For example, the American Dairy Association has a fitness related ad campaign targeting athletes called "got chocolate milk?"  I bought myself a great run belt that carries GU packets like a bandolier carries bullets…"wha-bam!"  I felt like ninja-thoner.  Then I found Run Disney.  Remember my bucket list?  The Dopey Challenge?  Well, I found out when I can sign up for the 2015 race series, got a great bag, and got on their mailing list.  Because I am that crazy, I am already looking at the 2015 race series.  All over the expo I saw M-Dot gear and tattoos.  Of course, I was no exception…I wear my Boulder 70.3 jacket with pride.  Several people engaged me in conversation about not only my past races, but the upcoming IM Boulder.  It's exciting to know this event is creating a buzz throughout the racing community!  I still stand in awe of anyone who has completed a 140.6.

Once the Expo got crowded, I left and found a spot to go through my swag bag.  I found a coupon for Corner Bakery, where I went to have lunch while I waited for Mark and Sarah.  It was great to see them, and we developed a plan for shuttling cars between the start and finish lines (which were in two separate places).  I explained to them that I am horrendously slow (both of these guys can qualify for Boston), and that they would be waiting at the finish line a loooong time.  We parted ways that afternoon for relaxation and an early dinner.

Most of my time at the hotel was spent sitting around either in the pool, on the grounds, or in my room. I did little else but sit and watch a lot of TV…and that's when I noticed a tickle in my throat.  When that happens before a race, I chalk it up to psychosomatic reaction to fear and stress, but all the same, I just go to bed.

Race morning.  My friend Mark Mulligan -- training partner and mentor -- woke me up with a phone call and some inspirational words.  The most poignant, "Don't quit."  Not that I would have, but those words would come back later in the day.  I walked down for my $10 breakfast of coffee and muffins and readied myself for a long morning.  I met up with Mark and Sarah before the race, then found my corral.  The corrals are roped off sections based on what you think your finish time might be, so people aren't dodging around other runners all morning long.

The start corral was one of my favorite moments of the day.  It's tense, and people are nervous (including me).  A few of us are joking around, then it got really quiet for a minute or so.  To break the tension and get at least myself to loosen up, I screamed, "GHA!  WHAT AM I DOING HERE!?!?!"  Everyone around me laughed.  A couple of minutes later, I looked at the woman standing next to me and asked, "How far is this race?"  Without missing a beat, she answered, "5k."  Finally, about a minute before my wave started, we were walking up to the start line, and I said aloud, "If you see me collapse, pause my Garmin."  I don't know if any of that helped people have more fun, but it helped me…

Along the race course there are really funny signs to keep you going…it's also fun to read some of the t-shirts, too:
"Because 26.3 miles would just be CRAZY!" t-shirt
"We are so proud of you random stranger!"sign
"If it were easy, I would do it." sign
"This seemed like a good idea 6 months ago." sign
And the more adult sign…"Now is NOT the time to trust a fart."I was chuckling about that one the whole race.

I set a goal of finishing in 4 hours and 45 minutes (Boston Qualifies under 4 hours, just as a reference). I had a great taper, and felt good at the start, keeping and maintaining a pace that would bring me in around 4:35.  Long story short, I ran every mile of that marathon, stopping only to walk through the water stations.  Mile 20 came and went, and I was in uncharted territory.  I'd never run that far before, but I still felt great so I maintained my pace.  Then at mile 23 the course turned left into Tempe.  Remember how I said Phoenix is flat?  Well, Tempe isn't.  That left turn pointed us uphill and into the wind.  Everyone around me stopped to walk.  I would not.  The wind and the hills at the end of the race  made the last three miles awful.  Whatever pace I had going was shot, but I kept running.  Mark's words from this morning floated up…"Don't quit."  Nope.  I had come too far, and worked too hard to quit now.  It may not have been pretty, but I didn't care.  My form fell apart, and I was hunched over in obvious discomfort (it wasn't pain, yet).  The onlookers toward the finish line were telling me, "Just over the bridge!  You are almost there!"  Then I saw the bridge.  It was the longest bridge I had ever seen.  When I finally made it across the bridge I went as fast as my tired quads would carry me, and screamed with joy as I tumbled down the hill to the finish. They gave me the heaviest medal I have ever felt.

Mark and Sarah were waiting at the finish line…a sight for sore eyes!  Everything was kind of a blur after that.  I found Chocolate milk, water and ice…then the portapotty.  I skipped the post race beer (we get a free one, but that did not sound good at the moment), then Mark, Sarah and their friend Laura all took me back to the start line where I parked my car.  My quads were screaming.  Luckily, I had the foresight to schedule a sports massage at the hotel that afternoon.

The rest of the trip I was in a daze.  The massage helped me recover, as did lots of rest.  Sitting on the plane was fine, but getting up hurt a lot.  When I got home on Monday, I parked my butt on my couch.  Tuesday, I literally could not walk down my stairs without using the bannister to support most of my weight.  Every time I had to go to the bathroom, I would ask myself, "how badly do I really have to go?" because sitting down and standing up was nearly impossible.

In the end, I finished, with a time of 4 hours, 44 minutes, 40 seconds.  I beat my goal time.  Will I do another one?  Yes.  It was so much fun!  I worked my tail off for this.  I got the t-shirt, the medal, and the right to put a 26.2 sticker on my car.

This event gave me the confidence I need for Ironman Boulder, because really, this was a training race for August.  I needed to know I could travel 26.2 miles on my legs in a matter of hours.  I learned a lot during this race that I can not only apply to Boulder's event this year, but also to my daily training routine.  I trained well for this race.  Whatever I did, I did it right.

My friend and training partner, Mark, sent me a congratulatory card after the event.  The cover of the card reads, "'You're not obligated to win.  You're obligated to keep trying to do the best you can every day.' -- Marian Wright Edelman"  This sentiment articulates the attitude I take into every workout and race.  It just says it well.  Because that is really what it is about.  Like the ladies at the airport…they weren't there to win, but they were there to see how well they could do.  Like them, I compete against myself.  I am not a fast runner, but I am a runner.  Crossing that finish line is proof of something I already knew about myself…

I can do anything, if I want it badly enough.

THE MENTAL GAME

This morning, I faced a 16 mile run that I was unable to do for 4 days.  It had been 6 days since my previous run.  I spent a week at low altitude.  I spent 2 days driving.  I was dehydrated and had been eating lousy all holiday season.  And.  It snowed last night.  16 miles?  Really?  Where is the snooze button?

For some insight into my mentality please visit http://theoatmeal.com/comics/running (be ready for some grown-up language ;-)  Read all the way through this and you will get a very good look into my own brain, but drawn better.  This guy knows.  He is a kindred spirit.  It will make you laugh, yes, but you will also see why I swim, bike and run, as well as the obstacles I face on my journey.

As I've spent hours and hours out on the road or on the treadmill lately, I am faced with the many ways I use to distract myself.  When I am staring down a double-digit run, hill intervals, or a heavy duty core set, I can't be the first to blink.  But remember, I am a couch potato by nature.

Just Do It -- Half of life is just showing up.  So of course, when it's 5 degrees outside, or I'm nice and comfy in my pjs, how do I get the training done?  Whatever people say about Nike, they have one thing right.  "Just do it" is the most simple statement.  The idea really boils down to, "are you really going to make excuses to NOT do something good for yourself?"  Too tired, too busy, too lazy…  Nope.  Don't give me that.  Doesn't fly if you live with a "just do it" attitude.  More often than not, when my head isn't in the game, this phrase comes to mind and I go get my shoes.  Many times I have to will myself to get my gear -- whether I'm running out my door, or headed to the gym -- but once I'm dressed, motivation hits.  There is something about tying my shoes, or putting on a swim cap that makes me want to "just do it."

Taking the Option -- But yes, there are times it's harder.  When those times come, I tell myself, "just go for 10 minutes, then see how you feel."  90% of the time I start with that option, I finish a full workout.  Because that 90% indicates a lack of mental motivation, rather than physical.  The other 10% will probably be the subject of another post.

"TV time" Treadmill -- We had a severe cold snap here in Denver that lasted more than a week.  I think it's just dangerous to run outside when it's below 10 degrees.  And you REALLY have to talk me into running outside when it's below 20.  Options turn indoors.  I go to the treadmill at the gym.  When you look up the word "boring" in the dictionary, I'm pretty sure there is a picture of a treadmill.  Remember when you used to schedule your college classes around Days of Our Lives?  Me either, but you get the idea…only for me schedule my treadmill runs around NCIS Los Angeles.  Otherwise, I have Netflix on my phone.  One episode and I can get 5 to 6 miles in, while completely checked out watching TV.  I walk out of the gym physically stronger. Mentally…well, not so much.  The nice thing about watching TV, is that I like doing something different during the commercial breaks -- up the incline and/or speed.  Basically, it gets done when I'm not even paying attention.  I wish the laundry got done that way.

Playlists -- Most of the time, I'm happy with my SBRun list or my Worship music, but anything that is upbeat and fun is usually suitable for any run lasting less than 7 or 8 miles.  Anything longer and I throw in a Beth Moore lecture or an audio book.  I have occasionally run without music, which is a nice way to mix things up.  Unplugging is nice for shorter runs.

Long runs -- These are the hard ones.  Just do it isn't always enough.  All the great music on iTunes doesn't cut it.  Treadmill is out, so no TV.  Taking the option?  Not if if I want to cross a finish line.  So how do I get it done?  I plan.  I pick a day in the week where that is the only thing on my To Do list.  14, 16, 18, 20 miles…however long, I have one specific day.  Yes, the weather doesn't always cooperate, so I have a backup day.  I also have a plan for WHERE.  Lots of distance, few distractions, and I have to select a route carefully.  Then what will I do during the run?  Well, write this post, for one…but this is where the playlists come in.  The most challenging part is when the pain starts to set in: my feet, my hips, my calves…it all starts to distract me.  I stop thinking about my music, and start wondering, "when am I done!?"  That wonder then turns into verbalizing aloud my displeasure.  Yes, people on the Cherry Creek path have looked at me funny.  I start looking at my GPS every 15 seconds or so, and get angry that it has only moved 0.02 miles.  Somewhere after the half-marathon mark, I learn the meaning of Mental Toughness.  Some folks use visualization as a tool.  I do too, but early in a workout when I'm feeling good.  All I can visualize when I'm starting to hurt and get cold (or frankly just don't want to be there) is a nice warm shower.  This is when I start playing mind games with myself.  These include variations on the following:

• Run faster for 30 seconds every 5 minutes
• It's not a 20 mile run, it's 10.  Then you turn around.
• Run to the next mile, then walk one minute.
• Switch my water bottle from one hand to the other every mile
• Take a GU every 45 minutes
• See that tree.  Just run that far…Okay now to that bench…then that bridge...
• The alphabet animal game -- think of an animal for each letter in the alphabet in order...

Get the idea? Seems trivial or mundane, right?  When I have something I can look forward to, even occasionally, the time passes, the miles get done.  I have come to call it "tactical misdirection."  It's not always pretty, but it gets done.  

Let's go back to this morning.  I had to run.  Had to.  If for no other reason than to shake off some of the holidays and do a huge run before I start my taper.  Nice and warm on the couch, I finally jumped up and got my running gear.  Woohoo!  Let's go running!  Okay, snow?  Let's just see how conditions are.  Run for 5 miles, then turn around if it's not working. Conditions weren't great, but I was flying!  I hit 5 miles, and just kept going.  I ran in an area I never had before, which brought me to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal Wildlife refuge: So many deer and coyotes that just looked at this strange purple be-decked two-legged creature stumbling along.  Completely unconcerned with me.  It was beautiful.  I turned around at 8 miles, right around the time my run playlist ended.  Switching over to my kid's Imagination Movers playlist, I amped up even more.  Conditions, altitude, lack of rest and other factors all caught up with me…at mile 15.  I declared victory, and walked (limped) the last mile home.

My goals will not be reached if I do not act.  The physical body can do many things, but a willing spirit is, in my mind, far more powerful.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak…I don't think I believe that, really.  A willing and motivated spirit is formidable. My body is ready, my spirit is willing…but sometimes my brain steps out in front and says, "how about a Venti Mocha and a donut?"  I have to shut that guy up.  That guy is the blerch.  The blerch is me.  Must outrun the blerch.

http://theoatmeal.com/blog/justdoitlater

YET ANOTHER NUMBER

I've heard it said that having another birthday is better than the alternative.

I've heard it said that another birthday is like finding a warm spot in the swimming pool…It feels good as long as you don't think about it.

I've heard it said that age is like fine wine.  When we get older, we start to sour,  everything settles to the bottom and no one wants us around anymore.

Lately, I've looked at my pursuits, and have wondered what took me so long to tackle some big things. Luckily, the people around me have responded, "who cares?  You are doing it!"  I've also wondered if I have hit my mid-life crisis, signing up for big races like a marathon and an Ironman in 2014 -- neither of which I have previously attempted.  Looking ahead, I have my sights set on the Dopey Challenge, 4 days and almost 50 miles of running through Disney Theme parks.  My bucket list includes at least one more Ironman, and maybe a few more marathons.  If my body can hang on.

I realized while running the other day that I will be 50 when my son gets his driver's license.  I also realized that training for a marathon is hard.  Go figure.

When my brothers and I were kids, we threw my dad an "Over the Hill" birthday party.  Black and silver decorations, including an "Old Fart" t-shirt.  I look back on that day with horror now, and feel like I need to apologize to my father for making fun of his age.  So…So Sorry, Dad.

As I lay down over 30 miles of running per week, it's harder to get out of bed the next day…the list of things that hurt when I get up in the morning seems to get longer.  I'm losing toenails and rolling out muscles.

So if 40 is the new 30, let's look back at my athletic achievements or lack thereof:
Prior to age 10, I swam so much that I had a shoebox full of ribbons for my races with FAST.  At age 15 I returned to swimming an threw down my first sub-1-minute 100 meter swim, and my first 500 meter event.  I began springboard diving, and stunk at it.

In my 20s, I was not an athlete.  I just worked out so I wouldn't get too fat.  Unfortunately, I also like to eat.

Age 30.  My first Triathlon race was the Danskin Women's and I have averaged at least 1 triathlon every year since.

Age 37.  My first run over 6.4 miles…an 8-miler that I thought would kill me…if i didn't kill my training partner.  The same year, I did a five mile run in under 50 minutes…again I thought if I survived it, I'd make my BRF pay.

A year later at 38, I blow the doors off of all my previous triathlon times at the Rattlesnake Olympic Tri, and two months later I'm crossing the finish line at my first half marathon.

Then…this crazy Boulder Tri Series in 2013.

In the last 10 years I have gone from "recreational" fitness to heavy duty mileage and volume.  Not just punching a clock on the treadmill, but looking seriously at each training session and planning out my weeks and months.

So why the change?  I really have no idea.  I could look back at a trip to Hawaii 18 months ago -- this trip changed so much as I walked the neighborhood where the Ironman World Championships took place. I could look at my inspiring friends -- you know who you are -- that said not only "you can do this," but "You Will Do This."  I could look at a series of life challenges that unleashed strength and fortitude I never knew I had.  Whatever the case, I'm working harder than I ever thought I could.  40…better late than never, right?

What I find interesting is not only the age at which I'm doing these things, but that I'm getting faster as I get older.  As I look in the mirror, I'm find myself considering an eye or neck lift, but nothing in my closet fits…in a good way.  I see a story in every line on my face, and strength in every muscle.

Most importanly, though...when I look in the mirror now, I don't see a fat girl.  She was always there for most of my life, no matter what size was written in my jeans…but she's gone now. No where to be found.  When I look in the mirror, I see an athlete who feels good about herself not because of how she looks or the number on the calendar, but because of how she feels.

Because you are only as old as you feel.  Here's to another 40.

26.2...OH, HOW CUTE.

An hour after I published my last post, I bought a plane ticket to Phoenix and a race number for the Rock and Roll Arizona Marathon in January.  I committed to 26.2 miles with 18 weeks of training.  As my first full marathon, I figured I was already behind, so I hit the pavement hard.  Basically, I didn't want to have to come back a third time in a row and tell you that I'm still sitting on the couch with the Nutella.

Logging a whopping 26 miles in the first week (including a soggy and cold 12 miler), the point was driven home that I am so ridiculously goal oriented.  It's almost sad.  However, I'm flying through my workouts, and I'm enjoying the fact that I have a goal again!  I almost forgot the fact that 10 minutes after my registration, I sat back and asked myself, "What have I done?!"

In most detail-oriented race plans, elite racers (let me be clear, that does not include me) will have an "A" race, meaning their lives will revolve around this one race in their season.  For me, that's Ironman Boulder next August.  In the meantime, "B" races would be well-supported training days...finish lines that set benchmarks to measure progress toward the A race.  Then there are "C" races.  Certainly not throw-away races, but one does not push oneself through these events.

I haven't decided yet if Rock and Roll Arizona is A or B.  At this point, I don't know that it matters.  However, since I lie awake nights wondering if I can even finish a marathon distance on its own --never mind after swimming 2+ miles and biking over a century -- I think Rock and Roll Arizona lies closer to B than A.  This makes me chuckle, because most people look at a marathon as a huge goal.  Many people I know make their first marathon ever their "A" race.  For me, it's a stepping stone to a bigger goal.

After that first week of training, I got slammed with a lousy chest cold.  I lost my voice, and I was coughing all the time.  Every mile was a fight.  My legs said go, my lungs said, "are you nuts?  Knock it off!"  I went from 26 miles in week one to 7 miles in week two.  I'm still coming off of it, but I'm not going to let the cough beat me.  Week 3 goal is 30 miles, and as of this writing I have logged 17.

So, why Phoenix?  Several reasons.  I knew I would not be ready for a full-marathon 9 weeks after Boulder 70.3, but I wanted a marathon finish before IMBO next year that wouldn't destroy me before the next phase of training.  I was thinking about Rock and Roll New Orleans in February, but nixed that idea when I saw the price of airfare.  Sorry, but if I'm spending that much money on a plane ticket, my dive gear is coming with me.  Then some friends of mine invited me to join them for the Phoenix race.  So at least I'll be running with my friends -- translation, they will smoke me like a trout, but at least we will be in the same town -- post race happy hour!

Recently, I sat down with a hometown friend, and uttered the words, "I'll be running my first marathon at age 40."  I'm not sure why this phrase stuns me.  Either I can't believe it's taken this long to become a runner, the fact that I'm turning 40 in a matter of a few weeks, or perhaps I'm hitting a mid-life crisis and if I wait too much longer, a marathon would be completely out of the question.

Let me say it again.  I'm running my first marathon at age 40.

As I polish this post off (so I can go for a run), I think about my journey to this point.  How does a natural born swimmer, whose worst memories of gym class included the track, become a marathoner? Well, triathlon, for one.  It is humiliating getting passed by speed walkers at the Danskin.  Another reason: my running friends.  For so long, I was slow. I felt self-conscious about holding up my running partners, so I didn't have any.  In the process of training for my first half-marathon, I somehow dropped time from my miles.  I started running with friends who would push me to go faster and farther than I ever had.  My first 8-miler was torture, but the high I felt after was incredible!  Then came the day I ran with a friend of mine around Wash Park.  In the first lap, he led me to sub-10 minute miles (as a reference point, my race times averaged 11:30 minute miles).  I think If I could have caught him, I would have beaten him senseless.  I had no shortage of ill words, but I kept up with him.  Later, I was grateful for the push.  I got my butt kicked doing something I thought would never happen.  Somehow, I learned to love running, and there are days where I crave it.

What is running to me?  Running is freedom...joy...peace...prayer.  Running is where I work out my issues and schedules and plan my days.  Running is where I write my blogs and create award winning motivational music videos.  I get to be in my head and dream.  If I can't run, I don't have a place to put my stress.  When I do run, I'm happier.  There is a great t-shirt I need to get that says, "It's all good...I ran today."

And by the way, I am not a treadmill runner.  I'll hit the 'mill as a last resort, but I can't stand it.  It feels like I'm in a hamster wheel.  I want to see the scenery change, feel the crunch of the gravel, smell the fall air.  Outside, I fly.  I'm closer to God.  

The road to IM Boulder includes another first.  By the way, I'm still slow...compared to many.  But compared to the Heather of 6 years ago, I'm a speed freak.

Did I mention that I'm running my first marathon at age 40?