What have I done?

I have tried to write this post several times.  To no avail I have either lost it or run out of time trying to edit it.

That must mean something right?

What it means is you get to read T-odd’s rendition of the weekend.  Don’t stop before you get to The Gary Project.  It is just pee in your pants funny.

And yes, we did sign up.

OMG we signed up!

Off to school

This was yesterday.

CT had just rolled out of bed and wasn’t ready yet.

PJ is set and ready to roll.  In fact, she ran onto the bus so fast that I had to go on after her to kiss her goodbye.

KP was all ready but had to wait another day for school to begin, but got to visit for an hour and hang out with his new class mates.

All in all, the day went pretty smoothly.

And today…KP headed off to his first day of ALL DAY Chinese Immersion Kindergarten (didn’t even want to stop for a photo-can you tell by the blur?).

With his big brother giving him ample instructions before leaving the door, his big sister taking his hand as they stepped onto the bus together and his wide anxious eyes waiting for all the new adventures to begin, I am sure this day too will be great.

Unless he goes insane because he has no idea what the teacher is talking about.

I’ll let you know if that happens.

Pain is weakness leaving your body

I’m going to thank the 14 year old wrestler, who was our bus boy the day before the race.   We met him when we were chomping down burgers in Taylors Falls.  He was wearing a t-shirt that held the quote “Pain is weakness leaving your body”.

And let me tell you, I used it yesterday during my half ironman race, when I was down and almost out.  I shut my eyes on mile 9 of the run.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted to quit.  I decided to chant the above quote instead…until the pain went away.

That was my darkest moment of the race, the rest of the race actually went VERY well.  So, I’ll start from the top and give you the highlights.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the wind was light.  Many of my regular tri buddies were there to stake their claim on the day.  I find racing with friends sooo much more fun than going to a race alone.  I guess that makes me a racing extrovert.  I like sharing these experiences and not struggling alone.

Cousin Catherine was there, she asked me to help her with her zipper.  It was about 5 minutes before the race, everyone had been kicked out of the transition area, there was a thread that was stuck, I freed it and then the zipper pulled up and came right off.  I broke it. The panic in her eyes was horrible.  I felt horrible.  She had an alternative…shark skin…not sure what that is, I’m too cheap, but she had something, thank god.

My swim went fine.  Per usual, I panicked around 3 minutes in.  My legs feel like tree stumps, I feel like I can’t kick and then I can’t breath.  I took a moment, did a few breast stokes and then started counting.  ONE, TWO, THREE.  On three I would breath.  Mindless.  I got to the half way point and realized I was under 15 minutes, that was good, REAL good.  If I could do the same on the way back I would be 4 minutes less than last year.

When I got out of the water…my watch read 30 minutes and some odd seconds.  REAL GOOD!

The transition went fine, off on the bike I went.

I chose to ride with less water and electrolytes than usual due to some bottle drops and assistance along the course.  This plan seemed to work out great!  Every 15 minutes my timer would go off and I would drink or eat something depending on the time.  Thanks to Nathan, I also added in some leg stretching every 45 minutes…thanks Nate (oh and thanks for the use of your AWESOME goggles, I loved them).

56 miles is a long ride and I found myself have conversations with MYSELF.  The best one just so happened at mile 20.  I was rolling along, looking at the fields, the sky, the cows and said in my head…”So, what do you want to talk about?”  And that right there is when you realize, this is a long race and that you can only laugh at the insanity.

Around mile 30 of the bike ride a woman passed me.  I don’t take kindly to woman passing me.  I don’t so much mind if a fast guy passes me BUT a girl passes me, and I have a serious issue.  So, this chick passes me, then I pass her.  We go on like this for 15 miles.  I take her on the hills, she’s sloppy.  She takes me when I am trying to pee on the bike (that means slowing down and trying to squat on my saddle at around 19 MPR).  The 5th time she past me, out of my mouth very quietly slides, “WHORE”.  I was so shocked that I said it out loud, I murmured,  “OMG, that is so  mean, I can’t believe you just said that.”  Then I laughed at myself.  Again, talking to myself.

I came into T2 fast, feeling good, seeing my family.  Hopped off my bike and ran in.  I had to pee.  OH YEAH, pee!  So, I was having GI issues on the bike.  I tried to pee on my bike, SERIOUSLY TRIED.  I let out a touch and then would be overcome with the sensation that I was going to shit myself.  That was enough to alter the course…I would need to stop on the run.  That meant the need to bike faster to the finish because I knew I would be wasting time in the bathroom.

Off on the run I went, happy the bike was over.  My legs started cramping.  I have not figured out how to fix this issue.  It happens every time.

I wanted to run 8 minute 30 second miles.  Around mile 1.5 I was altering my goals.  The legs were cramping.  If I kept it slow it was going to be ok, if I went faster than 9’s I was sunk.  I started timing my miles, full well knowing if I did 10 minute miles I could still beat my last years time.

At mile 2 I stopped, walked to the side of the course and stretched.  The emergency volunteers descended on me immediately.  I told them I was just stretching and they moved on.

I knew my family and Becca (who took 1st in the Athena group, WAY TO WIN THAT!)  would be at mile 6.  I couldn’t wait to stop and tell them how badly I wanted to stop and then they could slather me with sun screen or hug me or take me home.  Needless to say, they were across the road, yelling at me and telling me to keep going and they were not going to break my stride…I kept going.

Mile 7-9 was hell.  JMatt showed up on his bike.

Do you know JMatt?  Or Fast Matt as I call him.  Yeah, he got 2nd in his AG and 7th overall in the sprint.  After doing a half iron race the weekend before.  Needless to say, he was on his bike, riding across the street and telling me I looked good, my ass looked good (he says that to all the girls and was nice enough to tell this old lady it was still holding up) and that I was crushing it.  I SO WAS NOT CRUSHING IT right then and there.

I did not like him being there for a bit, then he just rode, did not make me talk and just gave me all good thoughts.

A girl in pink ran by me, he told me she was in my AG (age group) and that she was my pace bunny and I shouldn’t loose her.  At that point it did not matter, I could not keep up, she kept going, I did not.  I struggled.  As I said before, I wanted to give up, sit in the van, have someone just bring me home.

Then I tried to find the calm.  The calm I know I have.  The ability to know yourself because you have the experience.  The calm you know you have if you dig deep enough when you are spiraling out of control.

I hit mile 10 and I knew it was up to me to beat my own time.  I could either do it or not.  The gear I did not know I had, showed up.  My stride picked up, the cramps left and by mile 12 it was do or die.  It was up to my very own grit to finish this bitch.

I ran down the street and into the park, where you go off road, around the bend and end on an up hill.

I took it as hard as I could.  Adam was yelling at the top of his lungs.  KP almost ran into me as he cheered me on.  JMatt was at the top, along with the woman in pink, who I never thought I would see again.

I overtook her at the hill and sprinted to the finish with a time of 5 hours and 7 minutes.

I have never worked so hard in a race that I have felt like I was going to throw up…I almost did.

My goal, 5:10.  I did it.  I ran the best race I could that day, in fact, my best half iron race ever.

Did I want a top 3 finish in my AG and bring home a trophy, yes.

Did I get it?  No.

The competition was deep.  The top 3 were elite racers who finished in 4:30 and THAT is crazy and awesome.

I will never be there.  Even as a stay at home mom I don’t have that kind of time or ambition.

But what I will be is a great example for my kids.  Even though I didn’t get in the top 3, I did my best and that is all anyone (including myself) can ask.

I my very humble opinion, I rocked that race and am more than pleased with the outcome.  In fact, I am proud of myself.  All that extra worked paid off by 7 minutes.

It has been a GREAT season!

Oh yeah and the new tires…they made me faster.  THANKS!

Quiet Dawn

This morning around 7:00, the house was very still, everyone asleep but me. Then KP came walking down the steps, still stretching the sleep out of his body.

As the sunlight from the bathroom lit up half his little body I looked at him in his quiet state, in the quiet of the morning and a flood of emotion washed over me.  How big his little body had gotten, how cute he was, how funny was his hair splayed in all directions, and than that crooked smile that turned into a shy “oh no you’re looking at me” look.

At that moment I fell in love with him all over again.

Down the hill

I’m staring down at my training calendar and guess what…it is the last week of training.  Where has the time gone?  Did I really do all that was written down on that thing?

The beauty of the last week of training is it’s such a little amount of work, that it’s almost like cheating or it’s like you’ve been given a gift for working so hard or it’s just the mind fuck you get after so many hours on your bike, in the water and in your running shoes.

Here is what my last week of triathlon training looks like.

Monday:  swim-2×400 yard sprints with 45 seconds rest in between.

Tuesday:  run-just run

Wednesday:  bike-15 minutes at 40 km speed

Thursday:  run-10 minute run at 10 k speed, swim-just swim

Friday:  NOTHING

Saturday: NOTHING

Sunday:  Race Day and we will see how well this training plan worked this year.

Monday:  BonBons and spaop operas

Santas in town

So I had a long bike ride yesterday.  I chose to do two laps of the trails around our house for ease and due to time constraints.  It was pretty windy out and several times during the ride I found random strangers drafting behind me.  For some reason this made me mad, like seriously people cut your own wind, if you’re going to use me at least say HI or tell me your name or something.  Needless to say, it just gave me more vigor so I would speed up and try to shake them.

One particular drafter however, was delightful.  He initially passed me at a street crossing and when he did, he was a vision to behold.  I would put him at about age 65 with very white hair sticking out of his helmet, a beard, a tight white sleeveless shirt, red tights and over the tights were tight spandex black biking shorts, a black fanny pack which carried jingle bells that you could hear if you were close by and he donned roller blades, very fast roller blades.

So I call out that I am passing on the left, he hand gestures for me to go ahead and then sticks with me for a good five miles.  I am on a bike, going about 19 miles per hour, he is on ROLLER BLADES.  He takes me on a hill and as he passes he tells me what a great pace I have going.  I tell him I love his jingle bells.  He tells me its to keep his elves in order because they don’t really listen.

Then off he flew.

Just one week ago

Last weekend’s long run:  15.5 miles of joy, happiness, excitment and disbelief that I was back at the long runs and feeling this good.

This weekend’s long run:  16.72 miles of hell, back pain, ankle pain, sluggishness, negativity, and wanting to walk at only 5 miles into the run.

Oh the sweet ups and downs of training.

Ready…Set…GOOOOOOOOO!

Today starts my first day of triathlon training for the 2009 season.  Enough of the slacking off, drinking too much on Tuesday nights for no reason and eating whole boxes of Girl Scout cookies.

So I have decided to make a few changes.  I’ve increased my training a level this year to level 2.  (level 1-for those short on time or newbies, level 2-those who think they can be at least a little bit competitive in their age group, level 3-are people who have no life outside of working, working out and then obsessing about their races, times, heart rates, power output and wattage)  We will see where it gets me, if anywhere.

The other change to this year’s training is that our marathon is a whole month earlier.  That may or may not be a good thing.  We are also trying to go for a specific time, which is a little bit different than in my past attempts at running/enjoying marathons.  I pretty much know that this isn’t going to be one of those fun runs.

All that said, no more excusses to stop after thre miles for coffee or just blow off the swim.  It is written down and when it is written down on my to do list, it gets crossed off…or else.

This first week looks like this (this includes mileage for marathon training too):

• Monday:  Off  (I love starting this way)
• Tuesday:  run: 8-10 miles marathon pace, swim: 6×25 yard sprints (plus warm-up, cool down, drills)
• Wednesday:  bike:  8×30 second sprints
• Thursday:  swim: distance to be determined, run:6-8 miles and hills
• Friday:  bike: 50 minutes
• Saturday:  swim: 800 yards, run:  14-16 miles
• Sunday:  brick:  35 min. bike and 10 min. run

Off to the races.

Back to my hot Podiatrist

Marathon training has officially started for good, today.  And what I mean by that is, today, although not necessarily the first day, kicked my butt.  Moderate (which is a swift) pace for 7 miles with sprints at the end.  Needless to say, I realized today just how out of shape I am AND that I need to head right on back to the Podiatrist.

I can’t even think about my Podiatrist anymore without thinking of a conversation I had with Jen the first time I went to see him.  I got out of the office, picked up my phone and called Jen to give her the low down on the bunion and then I added that not only is he brilliant, he is HOT!

She said, well he’s your type.  I’m all like…WHAT…I have a type?  What do you mean?  I’ve been with the same guy for half my life. I don’t have a type anymore.

She continued on, yeah he doesn’t really do it for me.  You know, he looks just like Adam will in 10 years.

And damn if she isn’t right…my husband is sooo HOT!

I’m just not that into the Flush

Once again I found myself doing something I said I would NEVER do.  But this time, I was smart enough to stop.  Here’s my 24 hour journey.

Adam, as you may remember, does a Fat Flush every so often.  I have never wanted to do one, until I found myself maybe wanting to do one with him.  So, we got all the supplements and all the fresh food and Thursday morning we were off and running.

I started the day with a longevity cocktail (unsweetened cranberry juice and psyllium husk) at 5:00 am.  Then ran.  Then came home to warm lemon water, fish oil, flax seed oil and an egg white, onion omelet and feeling very drained.

Finding myself still excited at this point, I went to the gym to lift.  While at the gym my body was not really wanting to do much.  When I changed out of my gym clothes and into my swim suit, walked into the pool to find no lanes open, it took me no time at all to decide that was enough, thanked the sweet baby Jesus and headed to the shower.

I got KP from child care and we head home and directly to the fridge.  At this point, my head throbbed and my muscles felt like they were simply cannibalizing each other.  My lunch of sauted (with no oil) onions, lean ground beef and tomatoes looked and smelled great, but didn’t taste like much.

The downward spiral had begun.

The rest of the afternoon got no better.  In fact, I became a raving bitch.  I’m not kidding.  The rage that sits just slightly under my surface was coming out full throddle on anybody and anything that caught my path.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was so beyond hungry.   I had that nauseous feeling and couldn’t care less about even making food.  When I did finally muster up enough gumption to make it, I just swore at it.

Then the second longevity cocktail came around at 10:30,  I thought I was going to cry.  I did my best to suck it down.  Watching Adam chug-it like a champ, only made it worse.  I went to bed…mad.

The morning sun came up, I felt ok and had an amazing poop.  But then the rush to get all the kids up, fed and out the door in 30 minutes (due to over sleeping) put me over the edge.  I walked PJ to the bus and continued on with the morning ritual of bringing the dog on her walk.

As I made it back up the drive, weak, tired and hungry, I decided it was not worth it.  Not worth my sanity.  My energy.  My strength.

I may be a walking toxic bomb, but I don’t care.

So I went inside, made myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal with berries.  In a flash the Wicked Flush Queen transformed back into the nice girl from Minnie.

It feels so good to be back.