RUN 5.3miles 54 minutes climbing some of those hills hurt, but it feels so good afterwards. Probably the most intense run in weeks.
Relatively relaxed weekend in terms of training. Rest now while I can, I guess! I'm certain it's not a good idea for me to be unscheduled until December when the IM plan kicks in. I should look into a base plan from TP.com or the EN winter plan. Otherwise I'll sit around and get lardo.
Finally bought new swimsuits yesterday. When your old suit is transparent, it's time to change it out. What is it with swimsuit sizes?! My old suit says a size 10, but there were also sizes in the 30-range. The DSG website gives the method to measure the 'lady swimmer', but I didn't read that until afterwards. I think I've got the size right, and now I have a blue and a black suit to alternate.
Numerics update! (since Sept 14)
Swim 5712y
Bike 56mi
Run 31.4
Spent $947
This week was $40 on Nuuns and $80 on swimsuits. DH picked up the Nuuns, I think I have enough for the winter :)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Still need swim lessons
SWIM 32mins 1100y
WU 200 swim, 100 kick
MS 3x200 as 50 balance, 50 cadence, 50 arm position, 50 swim
CD 200 choice
A bit frustrating while swimming today to share my lane with a guy who looks like he swims worse than I do but just as fast. Or slow, rather. I think he's trying to swim TI [on his side, quiet arms with sharply bent elbows, whole body below the water] but he's a bit of a swimwreck. Above water all you see is arms methodically coming straight up over his body, not at all out to the side and moving like machines in a studied, clockwork-like fashion. Underwater, he is U-shaped with hips low, arms in a weak sweep, and hips over-rotating. I watched a half length of his kicking, which he did on his back, and I never saw feet--just knees!
Sometimes I wonder what the lifeguard is thinking as she sits and watches us. They certainly see all types from up on their stand. The guy who takes 40+ strokes and barely moves, the dolphin-like woman who laps me, the guy who swims swims swims and never seems to rest. I know how bad I look, with my fish-tailing, weak catch and pull, bent neck, and lack of propulsion. Today's lifeguard was the one that gave me lessons way back in 2005, doubt she remembers me though. It's likely that she's going to avoid association with me, saying "oh no, I didn't teach her that!".
WU 200 swim, 100 kick
MS 3x200 as 50 balance, 50 cadence, 50 arm position, 50 swim
CD 200 choice
A bit frustrating while swimming today to share my lane with a guy who looks like he swims worse than I do but just as fast. Or slow, rather. I think he's trying to swim TI [on his side, quiet arms with sharply bent elbows, whole body below the water] but he's a bit of a swimwreck. Above water all you see is arms methodically coming straight up over his body, not at all out to the side and moving like machines in a studied, clockwork-like fashion. Underwater, he is U-shaped with hips low, arms in a weak sweep, and hips over-rotating. I watched a half length of his kicking, which he did on his back, and I never saw feet--just knees!
Sometimes I wonder what the lifeguard is thinking as she sits and watches us. They certainly see all types from up on their stand. The guy who takes 40+ strokes and barely moves, the dolphin-like woman who laps me, the guy who swims swims swims and never seems to rest. I know how bad I look, with my fish-tailing, weak catch and pull, bent neck, and lack of propulsion. Today's lifeguard was the one that gave me lessons way back in 2005, doubt she remembers me though. It's likely that she's going to avoid association with me, saying "oh no, I didn't teach her that!".
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Back on Track?
RUN 1:01 6.5 miles in Forest Park. Was slower than usual but it didn't feel any slower. The miles were longer and the hills steeper. HR seemed high and chest tight. Didn't wear the Garmin since I wanted to avoid focusing on the numbers.
I'm feeling much better, and might even say I'm physically recovering from the Redman weekend. Mentally, though, not so much--I'm still pissed off. I'm worried that as the weekend comes and I start training with the group again, I'm going to get questions. So far, I've deflected questions and I imagine in a short while they will end. And I've noticed different questions/responses to the situation, depending on who I'm talking to. There is definitely a difference between the tri group and the non-tri group. The conversations tend to go as:
"Wow! I can' t believe you finished under those conditions, amazing!!"
Yeah, a real win for mind over matter.
"Well have you learned anything from this"
Yeah, that I can persevere under terrible conditions to reach my goals.
"Well you should have known better"
Yeah, thanks.
So far the only person I've been able to openly talk to is the Dr in OKC. He 'gets it', so to speak. Not once made me feel foolish for what happened, and not once have I worried about how he'd view me afterwards. I think I will be able to talk to those who where there that weekend, those who like war comrades saw the battle. They've offered the best non-judgemental and caring question yet:
"Are you OK"
Yeah, I'm getting there.
I'm feeling much better, and might even say I'm physically recovering from the Redman weekend. Mentally, though, not so much--I'm still pissed off. I'm worried that as the weekend comes and I start training with the group again, I'm going to get questions. So far, I've deflected questions and I imagine in a short while they will end. And I've noticed different questions/responses to the situation, depending on who I'm talking to. There is definitely a difference between the tri group and the non-tri group. The conversations tend to go as:
"Wow! I can' t believe you finished under those conditions, amazing!!"
Yeah, a real win for mind over matter.
"Well have you learned anything from this"
Yeah, that I can persevere under terrible conditions to reach my goals.
"Well you should have known better"
Yeah, thanks.
So far the only person I've been able to openly talk to is the Dr in OKC. He 'gets it', so to speak. Not once made me feel foolish for what happened, and not once have I worried about how he'd view me afterwards. I think I will be able to talk to those who where there that weekend, those who like war comrades saw the battle. They've offered the best non-judgemental and caring question yet:
"Are you OK"
Yeah, I'm getting there.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
DIY Foundation Crack Repair
I'm failing to mentally process Redman. I can pinpoint the cause: lack of recovery from a 20mile run and metric bike the weekend prior. I can pinpoint the medical issue: chronic dehydration. But I can't deal with the mental issues, which are: 1) I wasn't sore or hurting (aside from shivering muscles) afterward, so I must not have been pushing that hard. 2) I've been doing this for long enough that I should know better, and I'm stupid for making these mistakes. 3) I have lost confidence that others are confident in me.
Right now, I feel like the slow zebra being eyeballed by the lion pack.
In a recent email, JM said
I will keep this in mind as I recover from Redman. I will embrace my crack (!?). I will process it, put it behind me, yet keep it in mind as the next year passes. I will put aside the odd pride I have in the fact that I finished a race I shouldn't have, and I will instead focus on the fact that a crack has been exposed in time for me to repair it.
Right now, I feel like the slow zebra being eyeballed by the lion pack.
In a recent email, JM said
Make sure, no matter what else you do over the next 12 months, that you find at least one training day when you really get all hell bent for leather, only to have things go horribly wrong. Trust me - your race will have more than you can understand right now moments when you just want to crack. If you take time during your training to push yourself to that cracking point, and actually experience it first hand, when your times come on race day, you'll be able to accept it, understand it, and work through it. As opposed to letting it crush you and ruin your race. In retrospect, I think this was my key to finishing vs/ DNFing. I knew my crack inside and out, and when it came to me out on the bike course, I was ready for it.
Find your crack. Embrace it. Learn it. Study how it affects you mentally, emotionally, physically. How does it change your race day strategy? Your training strategy? Your athletic outlook? The more you train WITH it, as opposed to just knowing on paper what you think it is, the better your ability to keep it from taking over your race.
I will keep this in mind as I recover from Redman. I will embrace my crack (!?). I will process it, put it behind me, yet keep it in mind as the next year passes. I will put aside the odd pride I have in the fact that I finished a race I shouldn't have, and I will instead focus on the fact that a crack has been exposed in time for me to repair it.
Monday, September 21, 2009
I've heard it's only a failure if you fail to learn something from it
Race reports are supposed to be an honest evaluation of what worked and what didn't. After this weekend, I'm not sure I can be honest with myself, but here goes.
I never did get excited about doing this race. I was excited to go, but not to race. The week before was scheduling mess. I only ran 6 miles and swam for 1hr total. That's it. My nutrition was random and unplanned. The day before the race was also a contributing factor, because for the ride down I did not eat or drink much. I was tired and too worried about what went on around me to take care of myself.
The icing on the cake was the race delay. A one hour wait on the beach in the rain in a wetsuit left me tired from shivering (btw, why am I always so cold?), hungry, and thirsty. By the time I hit the turn-around buoy my left arm quit pulling and just swept under me uselessly. I started swimming crooked, which contributed to my lackluster time of 47 or so minutes. I did manage to shake most of that off for the bike and held on to a lackluster pace of just under 19mph. Even with that stupid water rack coming loose 2 times, even with the rain, and even with the crappy roads. But reality really came crashing down on the run. I was shot my mile 2. I managed to hold a slower than expected pace between aid stations, but I had to force myself to run between those aid stations. I just kept thinking 'get to the next aid station, then take a rest'. Then the next station, then the next station. My body kept finding excuses to quit: my feet hurt, my head hurt, my chest felt squeezed, my breathing more of a wheezing. The road went on forever, what I thought was a mile was only a few tenths. The only way I could finish was to divorce mind and body, so that's what I did. I focused only on reaching the club tent and seeing the tribe. What an exhilaration to finally see them! But then I stopped when I reached them, came to walk, and really didn't care if I finished.
After I did cross the line, the volunteers apparently took one look at me and saw the truth I refused to see. I couldn't even focus to reach the tent pole to lean on, so someone grabbed my arm. I tried to wrestle away only to have another volunteer grab my other arm. Soon thereafter I was on my back, head down, and feet up with people saying my pulse was thready. Not a good place to be.
What was the real problem though? I did not want to get stuck in the med tent, I viewed that as a sign of weakness. In fighting back, lying to appear normal, and trying to get released, I delayed my treatment by maybe 20-30 minutes. True, I might have eventually collapsed at the club tent (and that would have been WORSE), but I honestly thought I was fine! I had no sense of my condition. I'm supposed to know myself, how I tick, and how I respond to training demands and challenges. Complete self-recognition fail.
Even now as I work through today I'm able come up with reasons I would have been OK on my own. I think to myself that "oh after any race I probably need 1-2L of fluid so I really didn't need 4.3L". I'm thinking of ways to make this a joke, and I'm more worried about what others think of me as an athlete, instead of thinking about how I had trouble staying coherent. Remembering my name being yelled and my face being slapped as they tried to get me to open my eyes should be enough to stop the above line of thought. I need to quit acting like I feel fine (I don't, I feel like I've been through HELL). I need to accept what happened, recover, and learn from it.
I had an awful race at Redman, I know that, but I shouldn't see it as a failure. This had to happen before IMWI, not during it or during the training that I'm planning for. My race planning can be lazy for a sprint or Olympic, but not for a 70.3 and certainly not for a 140.6! Take home lessons? Listen to your body, it sends warning signals for a reason. Take care of yourself and don't ignore your needs. And when a medical professional says you need help, trust him. He might be right. If I can learn from this, it won't be a failure.
I never did get excited about doing this race. I was excited to go, but not to race. The week before was scheduling mess. I only ran 6 miles and swam for 1hr total. That's it. My nutrition was random and unplanned. The day before the race was also a contributing factor, because for the ride down I did not eat or drink much. I was tired and too worried about what went on around me to take care of myself.
The icing on the cake was the race delay. A one hour wait on the beach in the rain in a wetsuit left me tired from shivering (btw, why am I always so cold?), hungry, and thirsty. By the time I hit the turn-around buoy my left arm quit pulling and just swept under me uselessly. I started swimming crooked, which contributed to my lackluster time of 47 or so minutes. I did manage to shake most of that off for the bike and held on to a lackluster pace of just under 19mph. Even with that stupid water rack coming loose 2 times, even with the rain, and even with the crappy roads. But reality really came crashing down on the run. I was shot my mile 2. I managed to hold a slower than expected pace between aid stations, but I had to force myself to run between those aid stations. I just kept thinking 'get to the next aid station, then take a rest'. Then the next station, then the next station. My body kept finding excuses to quit: my feet hurt, my head hurt, my chest felt squeezed, my breathing more of a wheezing. The road went on forever, what I thought was a mile was only a few tenths. The only way I could finish was to divorce mind and body, so that's what I did. I focused only on reaching the club tent and seeing the tribe. What an exhilaration to finally see them! But then I stopped when I reached them, came to walk, and really didn't care if I finished.
After I did cross the line, the volunteers apparently took one look at me and saw the truth I refused to see. I couldn't even focus to reach the tent pole to lean on, so someone grabbed my arm. I tried to wrestle away only to have another volunteer grab my other arm. Soon thereafter I was on my back, head down, and feet up with people saying my pulse was thready. Not a good place to be.
What was the real problem though? I did not want to get stuck in the med tent, I viewed that as a sign of weakness. In fighting back, lying to appear normal, and trying to get released, I delayed my treatment by maybe 20-30 minutes. True, I might have eventually collapsed at the club tent (and that would have been WORSE), but I honestly thought I was fine! I had no sense of my condition. I'm supposed to know myself, how I tick, and how I respond to training demands and challenges. Complete self-recognition fail.
Even now as I work through today I'm able come up with reasons I would have been OK on my own. I think to myself that "oh after any race I probably need 1-2L of fluid so I really didn't need 4.3L". I'm thinking of ways to make this a joke, and I'm more worried about what others think of me as an athlete, instead of thinking about how I had trouble staying coherent. Remembering my name being yelled and my face being slapped as they tried to get me to open my eyes should be enough to stop the above line of thought. I need to quit acting like I feel fine (I don't, I feel like I've been through HELL). I need to accept what happened, recover, and learn from it.
I had an awful race at Redman, I know that, but I shouldn't see it as a failure. This had to happen before IMWI, not during it or during the training that I'm planning for. My race planning can be lazy for a sprint or Olympic, but not for a 70.3 and certainly not for a 140.6! Take home lessons? Listen to your body, it sends warning signals for a reason. Take care of yourself and don't ignore your needs. And when a medical professional says you need help, trust him. He might be right. If I can learn from this, it won't be a failure.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Still coming to terms with...
...what I've signed up for. My mind keeps turning over the sheer numbers of Ironman. And by sheer numbers I mean aside from all the milage. $$$, hours of sleep, jars of peanut butter...
But I love numbers, so I'm going to track them as best as possible. As of now:
Age: USAT age 34 (35 on race day)
Height: 66 inches (the one number that won't change!)
Weight: 132 lbs (great fit for me this year, shouldn't change much either)
Body fat: 15.3% (according to that questionably accurate scale I have)
Average weekly mileage now at the end of 70.3 season:
Swiming: 2000-3000y (!!)
Biking: 100 miles
Running: 30 miles
Hours: 8-10
Money spent so far: $827
$210 for swimming lessons--paid a few weeks ago, but purchased for this race
$40 for compression sleeve calf socks
$1 for a 140.6 sticker
$550 for IM registration
$26 for Active.com to process above registration
Miles since I've signed up:
Swimming: 2000y
Running: 6.5 miles
The swimming $$ is only just now starting to be worth it. Yesterday's swim was the first one in which I felt the benefit of my new drills. So while I lament the money being handed over for that at least I'm feeling some improvement.
We pack up tonight and leave tomorrow morning for Redman, maybe my last race of the year. I keep telling myself to relax and enjoy it, not race it, but I'll see what happens when I hit the Start line.
But I love numbers, so I'm going to track them as best as possible. As of now:
Age: USAT age 34 (35 on race day)
Height: 66 inches (the one number that won't change!)
Weight: 132 lbs (great fit for me this year, shouldn't change much either)
Body fat: 15.3% (according to that questionably accurate scale I have)
Average weekly mileage now at the end of 70.3 season:
Swiming: 2000-3000y (!!)
Biking: 100 miles
Running: 30 miles
Hours: 8-10
Money spent so far: $827
$210 for swimming lessons--paid a few weeks ago, but purchased for this race
$40 for compression sleeve calf socks
$1 for a 140.6 sticker
$550 for IM registration
$26 for Active.com to process above registration
Miles since I've signed up:
Swimming: 2000y
Running: 6.5 miles
The swimming $$ is only just now starting to be worth it. Yesterday's swim was the first one in which I felt the benefit of my new drills. So while I lament the money being handed over for that at least I'm feeling some improvement.
We pack up tonight and leave tomorrow morning for Redman, maybe my last race of the year. I keep telling myself to relax and enjoy it, not race it, but I'll see what happens when I hit the Start line.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Giddy-Up!
I'm still giddy over signing up. I've got 361 days for giddy to morph into fear, respect, and pain. Why do I say this? Because when I mentioned my giddy-ness to my IMWI buddies, they said:
At the same time though, both are looking forward to getting back into training and remembering the words "you are an Ironman". Oh to hear those words said to me--I'm getting giddy again!! 8-)
Not sure “giddy” describes my feelings…more like dread, apprehension, memories of long-training days, what the hell am I doing this for again?--D
I have feelings that run the gamut from fear to excitement.
Always gets the butterflies going when I think about this race. --P
At the same time though, both are looking forward to getting back into training and remembering the words "you are an Ironman". Oh to hear those words said to me--I'm getting giddy again!! 8-)
Monday, September 14, 2009
OMG I did it!
That was my first thought. OMG, I did it!
And there were a few good signs as I signed up. I hit the "Do It" button at 12:03 (123!), Active predicted 3 minutes to process, and the guy on the cover of my Going Long book has the race number 8. Where I got this fixation with 123, 3, 8, and 38 I don't know but those are my good omen numbers.
OMG I did it!
And there were a few good signs as I signed up. I hit the "Do It" button at 12:03 (123!), Active predicted 3 minutes to process, and the guy on the cover of my Going Long book has the race number 8. Where I got this fixation with 123, 3, 8, and 38 I don't know but those are my good omen numbers.
OMG I did it!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Pre Registration Nightmare
IMW 2009 took place today, which means IMW 2010 registration is tomorrow! Come noon tomorrow, I will put down a $550 bet to myself that I can train for and complete an IM race. As I sit here, I have no doubts about my ability, but that's easy to have while plopped on a chair in your kitchen. The race seems so far away at this point, so much could happen between now and then. But let's not dwell on what could happen, let's go over what already has.
Last night I dreamed that while registering on Active.com, I had to answer a bunch of questions before my registration would finish. Stupid questions like "Have you ever lived in an apartment?", "From these pictures, what dog would you chose?". WTF?!? I awoke anxious (and sore after yesterday's 62/3 brick and Thursday's 20m run) enough that I puttered right downstairs to make sure I knew my Active.com registration name and password. I didn't. I'll be practicing again tomorrow morning, because it would be terribly frustrating to sit down and have to figure that out all over again.
I was just looking over the IMW 2009 results again. So many people finished this race, and other races just like it. Next Saturday I will be watching one of my friends finish his first IM distance race. Again, I'm certain that I can do this. And that will be the point of this journaling, to remind myself of the highs while I'm in a low, to recall that however slow progress was made, and to be able to relive certain moments. Because as the song goes, "the first time is a one-time feeling, and I've never wanted nothing more".
Last night I dreamed that while registering on Active.com, I had to answer a bunch of questions before my registration would finish. Stupid questions like "Have you ever lived in an apartment?", "From these pictures, what dog would you chose?". WTF?!? I awoke anxious (and sore after yesterday's 62/3 brick and Thursday's 20m run) enough that I puttered right downstairs to make sure I knew my Active.com registration name and password. I didn't. I'll be practicing again tomorrow morning, because it would be terribly frustrating to sit down and have to figure that out all over again.
I was just looking over the IMW 2009 results again. So many people finished this race, and other races just like it. Next Saturday I will be watching one of my friends finish his first IM distance race. Again, I'm certain that I can do this. And that will be the point of this journaling, to remind myself of the highs while I'm in a low, to recall that however slow progress was made, and to be able to relive certain moments. Because as the song goes, "the first time is a one-time feeling, and I've never wanted nothing more".
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