It's the little things

You know after my little pity party with my last post, I felt better. I had to remind myself that I had some pretty good races last season. I had a PR for a 5k, and this came the day after I had PR'd my 5k in a triathlon the day before. I smoked that triathlon for me, and was really happy. So there were little victories along the way. Not all dismal and terrible like I would have you believe.

There's the thing, for the Yin of my season there was the definite Yang. I guess I figured the mojo would keep up even when my training wasn't there. Of course, that didn't happen. Did I want to be extremely critical of my last season or did I want to stomp my foot and complain, did I fail myself, or did the Race Gods just have it in for me??? Ah, one of life's lovely little conundrums to ponder. Yes I had a lousy Half Marathon for the Patrick Henry. I might have been able to make myself run through the toenail coming off and how freaking much that hurt, but why? At that point I was still running my marathon. Why risk injuring myself even worse when that was supposed to just be a training run. I kept it in perspective that day. I guess it's when my season so unceremoniously unravelled the way it did is when in my mind the "whole season sucked".

I needed to take care of my blood pressure. That medicine I started taking has been doing wonders for me truly. My blood pressure is in a low normal range. Even if I skip a day by accident, my blood pressure is still good. My training has been getting better. I still sweat more then I am accustomed to, but if I hydrate more during my training session it helps.

The next thing I need to consider is what I am going to do the 2010 season. Do I throw all caution to the wind, train like I am a pro, and see what happens? What happens if my body fails me? I think that is why I have always held back. Always used that as my crutch when I train, when it got hard, and hurt, I would ease up. Ever afraid of falling, not feeling my legs etc. But really, in my heart I know even if that happened it is just temporary. I have to admit when I have the visual problems after a hard workout, and I cannot get them to go away as quickly as I'd like, I freak a little. It is scary going from clear vision, to Holy Cow, I can't see anything clearly, it's like looking at an overly staticky TV or something. That's scary, but that too goes away as my body readjusts. I want to say I am going to crush 2010, I want to say I am going to blow the doors off of my 3 previous seasons, I want to say I will be on the podium once this year, just once, once in my life, but I am scared. Scared of my body failing to listen as I work hard to achieve that.

And there it is, I am afraid to go for a season like that because I am afraid I can't do it. It's one thing to say you can't do it, and another to really not be able to. I haven't put myself in that situation yet, and I am afraid to try I think.

So I have time. Time to decide. I know my husband and I are signing up for a master swim program that meets 3 times a week. I will improve my technique exponentially, improve my endurance and speed, and that's a good thing. I am signed up for my first race of the tri season and it's an Oly. Not starting with a sprint, but an Oly. So my training will be hard to start right away, but that's okay too. I want to drop another 15 or so pounds. Christie Wellington became a real force to be reckoned with this season after she dropped all of her excess poundage. That I can start on right now. If I keep up even mildly training I should be good through the holidays.

Things to think about, I guess I need to just keep telling myself if anything happens to me while I am training it won't be permanent. That as long as I cool down I should be okay right?? I really want to go hard this season, go hard or go home as they say. I am sitting at home, I did for too many races on my calendar this season and HATED it, so I guess it's go hard right?

Where Have I Been You Must be Wondering....

Yeah, yeah, I know, long time, no write, but truthfully I haven't felt much like revelling in any accomplishment of mine lately, they have been far and few between. I don't even remember my last races I wrote about. I think the last triathlon I did was the Richmond Sprint. I braved that one after not training much, and hoped that I could pull something out of myself. The swim was actually pretty much on target for me for a 400 meter swim, the bike was okay and the run was so so. I finished in 1 hour 29 minutes. Kind of pathetic compared to what it could have been.

I had pretty much made my decision not to run the marathon after missing almost 2 months of run training. I am not saying I didn't run, I did, but I was doing 3 miles here and there, still feeling like crap. I do lead the fifth graders for run club on Thursdays and that is nice enough and a gratifying experience. But I am not leading them on a 20 mile long run, or for speed workouts at the track. It all kind of went downhill when I started the medicine. It stung like crazy to back out of that, it was my Ironman of the season. The culmination of all that I trained for and it didn't happen. It felt like another humiliating kick in the crotch for me, but hey, that's that's the way my season went this year. Some good, some bad, mostly mediocre.

So I lived through my husband's Ironman, and him being away many weekends racing, in places like Bermuda, while I held down the fort. I would love to say I was gracious about it but for obvious reasons, it was really hard. I was pretty much over the whole single mom thing, and hearing about Ironman stuff, and living and eating and breathing it for the last year of my life. It would be different if I were training for it too, but I wasn't, so it is what it is. I am most definitely proud of him for doing such a stellar job, really I am and was, but I was still smarting that I wasn't running my marathon. I dunno, it really bugged me. It kind of stunk that my husband felt he needed to volunteer at the marathon today too. I guess I am being a whiner, but whatever, it's how I feel so there pftbpttt.

Anyway, we are setting up a race calendar for next year and I hesitate to show any excitement. I mean why get excited if I have another crap season? I don't know that my husband understands. He wills his body to do something and it does it. Sometimes I want to scream, I try so hard and have nothing to show for it many times. The only good thing about our first triathlon of the season is the fact it will be in Knoxville, TN and I will be seeing my best friend in the whole, wide, world that weekend too, and her family. It was a motivating factor, and my husband knew it would be. As is stands right now we are doing the Ukrops 10K in March, nothing for me as it stands now in April, the Muddy Buddy, the Rev3 Olympic distance in Knoxville and the Power Sprint in May, the MS 150 and I love the tavern in June, the NYC Olympic in July, the Pink Power in August and the Richmond sprint in October. Ta-da, I would normally get that wonderful jumpy feeling in my belly, that chomping at the bit feeling that I get at the thought of race day, but not so right now. I am feeling a sense of dread, like what kind of season will it be? Plus I am freaking out that people I don't really want to have to deal with are talking about doing these tris too. Yuck...I want to kick some serious ass now, but I am truly doubting myself and my ability to do anything anymore, I know wah, wah, wah....poverina.

Okay, while I am complaining, I hate to sound like a green female, but when my husband gushes over other girls and their finishes and how well they do, it irks the living hell out of me. And don't get me started on how pissy I get when I see all of these girls paying him mind and fawning all over him for how well he does. It's like back off ladies, but I am sure it's just me being a green female like I said. He's oblivious even though I see....

To top it all off, I stopped training about 6 days ago. I think I just got burnt and disappointed, so there you have it. I believe I need to start blogging again, start writing about everything to keep track and maybe I will have a record when there is a hiccup in my racing. There's a thought. Maybe one I will stick to now that I am not holding down the fort by myself anymore.

My husband asked me what we were having for breakfast tomorrow morning, I even went to church tonight so we would have our first Sunday morning together in a million years. It was music to my ears, what a nice thought to be having, don't know what it will be, but I do know I won't be alone in my breakfast journey tomorrow morning. Might not be a 100 mile bike ride, but I don't think his rump will be as sore when we're done!

Why me? Why not?

Okay, I was all psyched to tell you about my tandem bike ride with my husband through beautiful San Francisco but this blog is going to be me griping and moaning. One would think that I have enough on my plate health wise. I am not one to complain too much, hahahahahahahahaha, phew *wipes the tears out of her eyes*, okay I moan plenty, but I never have bitched about my lot in life and getting stuck with a potentially debilitating disease. I mourned the loss of my former self when I was diagnosed with MS at age 26. Let go all the things I thought might be and told myself I could curl up and wind up in a wheel chair or face the world and know I could be a better person then I was and forage onward. I chose the latter. I tried to live a better life, be a nicer person, you know the whole drill.

Fast forward 16 years and here I am in probably the best shape I have ever been in and I have to deal with high blood pressure. Not necessarily a huge thing, but I have been battling it for a bit and had it under control through diet and exercise the last few years. Not anymore. My last well woman visit, my BP teetered around 190/100. WTF?? Where is this coming from. My Dr., I absolutely LOVE him, told me to monitor it for a few months and call my GP if it didn't improve. Due to the fact that heart disease and high BP runs rampant in my family, both sides, I did as he asked. Well it didn't improve and hovered around 160/100, I finally cried uncle. I called my GP and made an appointment. When I went it was 190/110. I got put on Lisinopril an ACE inhibitor and diuretic. I asked my Dr. if I should be concerned being put on a diuretic with all of the training I do. He said absolutely not, he wanted me to keep at it. I brought up I had an 18 mile run scheduled for this Saturday, he told me not to worry. BALONEY! I went out for a ten miler with Brad 3 days after I started it and almost passed out. I thought I was going to die, literally. My blood pressure was 90/54 when I checked it when I got home. Okay, we slashed it in half in three days time, maybe that was a little excessive. I went out two days later for an easy three miles and I managed it. I was semi-okay. Today was supposed to be 4 miles, I managed to get through 3.5. I was trying to keep my pace around 10 minute miles, my long run pace, but I kept catching myself at my 5k pace 8 1/2 minute miles. But 3.5 miles and I was done. I will not even tell you what my stomach was like. It was not dissimilar to when I run long distance. That has never happened short distance, and sweat? I am sweating to the point where I leave drops when I come in, and a puddle on my chair. This all from a measly 3 miles and a little. I am calling said Dr. in the morning. This medicine is truly interfering with my training. My stamina is gone, I am tired all the time, my tummy is a mess, I had headaches, those have finally stopped, and I feel blechy. All of them are side effects for this supposedly benign medication my Dr. said would be fine for me. Not really.... Maybe I will run to his office, plop my sweaty butt down in his waiting room and show him how "fine" I am. How much it is okay to train on this medicine. I feel like all I worked for, all I have trained for these last almost 3 years is completely thrown out the door. I am frustrated and angry, and don't know what to do. Do I stop taking the medicine that is obviously needed, or do I keep taking it and throw my training out the door?? I need to be Solomon, once again, SOL. Not a man, not a king and not bible material why me?? Why not I guess is what he would tell me.

Clipped my own wings, but swam with the sharks...

Okay, I decided no for the Eagleman Half Iron. The reason was pretty simple really, I just wasn't willing to drive myself crazy trying to find the time to train and you can't fudge a Half Iron distance. A Sprint possibly, an Oly, maybe, but Half Iron no way, so I said no. I surprised myself with my decision, but was happy with it when all was said and done.

Two weeks ago my husband and I went out to San Francisco to do the Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz. Quite frankly I was on the fence about that race until the minute I jumped out of the boat. Heck even when I hit the water I was second guessing, but I did it.

Let's rewind a bit here, we got to San Fran and it was glorious weather wise. It was 68 or so, no humidity, just wonderful. I got acquainted with our area, we were just a few very short blocks from Aquatic Park, where you picked up your packet and timing chip race morning and the race ended.

We got in on a Thursday and spent the day wandering around, Friday morning we went for our long run since we were going to miss it with the swim on Saturday. We wound up running 12 miles over the Golden Gate Bridge. It was beautiful, I saw a pod of dolphins frolicking beneath me as I crossed over, it was really something. Anyway, we finished up the run, and decided to go for a swim in Aquatic Park to get ready for the race the next day. I had heard tale of how cold the water was, and Brad thought it would be best to get in and know for ourselves. So we grabbed our wetsuits and headed over to swim. Brad went first while I sat with our stuff. Then it was my turn. I suit up, head over to the water's edge and I spy an older woman, perhaps mid 70's or older, in a bikini with a neoprene swim cap and a sun bonnet on. I politely asked if she had any tips for a green horn like me, a newbie to cold water like this, how to handle the initial HOLY SH*T this water is cold feeling. She laughed and we chatted for awhile. I like to think of her as the hint God sent for me to at least try this race out....I had been asking for a little divine intervention for the two weeks or so prior, anything that would let me know if I should even try this race or not. Lo and behold, she came to me the day before, with her words that still ring in my ears....She asked me if I was doing the Alcatraz race and I was honest with her. I told her I had my doubts, I doubted my ability to swim the distance, in the cold like that. I wasn't sure, I was scared of the sharks and the sea lions. She listened and nodded and said to me "Why on earth wouldn't you at least try it? There is plenty of support staff in kayaks, if you get in and decide it's not your day, roll on your back, put your arm in the air, and get help. Even the pros need help every now and again you know Sweetie." How true was that?? My mind was made up for the most part, I would at least try...

Saturday morning and the alarm is trilling in my head. Time to make the donuts, I get out of bed and into my swimsuit. We grab some breakfast, get our gear and head down to the race start for our timing chips and t-shirts. We meet some of the nicest and most interesting folks while we are waiting to walk to the ferries that will bring us behind Alcatraz. People giving tips on how to race the race because they have before, people from all over, France, Australia, England, Germany, Italy, every single state from the USA being represented. It was really something to experience. Then they start the parade of swimmers, 800 of us or so, to the ferries. Did I mention I am unusually quiet? You can always tell if I am nervous in a bad way when I don't say anything. When I get nervous about something silly and I know I really shouldn't be nervous, I talk a lot, yammer, yammer, yammer, make myself laugh at stupid stuff,hahahahaha, and go back to yammer, yammer, yammer then hahahaha, you get the idea. When I am really nervous over something big, I get stone quiet and stone faced. No expression, no mirth, nada, nothing, niente...

So I get on the ferry with my husband. We find a friend of ours who has done this race before and besides being a very nice person, she is one heck of a swimmer. She senses my nervousness and promises me I will make it and be okay. From someone who has done this race before, and in 36 minutes, I take her word. She obviously knows what she's talking about right? They start giving a briefing "the beaches to the north and south of the Bridge have been closed because of Great White sightings" stood out and everything else, I didn't hear.

Next thing you know, we are pulled behind Alcatraz, where the prisoners were once upon a time released to the prison grounds, and they are calling for us to line up to jump in. Three across, and whee! Into the water you go! It's about a 10 foot drop my husband said. Maybe it's so you piss yourself silly going down to warm yourself up when you hit the freezing water! Anyway, I think my husband saw the pure abject terror in my eyes because when we were up, he grabbed my hand and BANZAI! Off the boat I went. He said when my head popped back up, the look in my eyes made him duck, he thought I was going to punch someone! We started scrambling to the line of kayaks that made up the start, then we heard the first horn toot. That was the one minute warning. My husband offered to swim with me, but I told him to race his race and go on ahead, I would make my way. Then came the longer TTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTT!!!! Off we went! Holy crapoli, can you say speed bag at the gym? Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots? Naked oil wrestling?? No, not really, just seeing if you were still with me...It was the most physical start to a race ever, my strategy? I stopped, let the tools pass me, got into my rhythm, and started my 1.5 mile trek. I have to admit, I stopped once or twice and turned around, amazed that Alcatraz was disappearing behind me more and more. I was struck by the thought, I am escaping, I am doing what many men died trying to do, and I was surviving.

I was never happier when I saw the boat with the huge orange buoys at the entrance of Aquatic park getting close enough to touch. Then it happened. I thought either a shark chomped my left calf or I got a bad leg cramp. Turned out to be the latter and I scoured through my head trying to remember what Brad said to do in case that ever happened to me. The first thing was DO NOT panic. It hurts like hell, yes, but don't start flailing and going crazy. I could have called for help, but I was at the entrance of the Park. The race was a mere 400 meters or so to the finish. I was not giving up! So I swam with one leg, there was a guy with one leg swimming, I thought that I could do that too. And so I did, I kicked with one leg only until the cramp started lessening, then I relied heavily on the rotation of my body more then my kicking to cut through the water. Before I knew it, I was at the beach, I stood up and whammo, fell to one knee, got up, fell to one knee again. It was a lot like Sr. Electa's First Holly Communion practices without her clicker, genuflecting before the Lord I was. Someone ran over and hoisted me up, I went up the few stairs, across the timing mat and TA DA I was done.

I finally found Brad through the throngs of people and we decided to go eat breakfast at our Hotel. That was the best darned bowl of oatmeal I have ever eaten. I did nothing for the rest of that day. I watched a movie while Brad slept and we planned our route for the bicycle ride we planned for the following day, through the Marin headlands, to Saulsilito, the Red Wood Forest, over the Golden Gate and back. That is a blog for another day though. I am tired all over again just thinking about my swim. But I escaped, I conquered the Rock and my fears, don't know which one was more satisfying...

Do I fly like an Eagle or stay at the nest?

Okay, my husband calls me at work today and asked a question I am still trying to decide on. Do I do the Eagleman 1/2 Ironman or do I stay at home like a mama eagle with her eaglets that weekend instead?

I had my ups and downs this season. My season started off pretty dismally with me barely surviving the Rockett's Landing Race, I limped home on that one. I butchered a simple sprint distance next. I finished in a pathetic hour and 21 minutes. Nothing to write home about.

Not all was that bad though. There were some shining spots like the MS 150. I actually did it and survived, more then I had even considered possible for me. I did my first half century ride, and did pretty okay. There was the 3 Sport Tri. I took over 5 minutes off of my hour and twenty one minute race. Same race course, different sponsor on that one, I did much better on the Three Sport Race. Then came my PR for the Cul-de-sac 5Ks. The first one was pretty normal for me, but the last two were way better. The last one came the day after the 3 Sport Race. I guess I was still pretty jazzed with getting a PR in my 5k during the triathlon that the enthusiasm carried into that race. I came 4 seconds away from breaking 26 minutes. If only I had made my way thru the racers better, I would have broken the 26....Then my NYC Tri results. I finished smack dab in the middle of my age group. But what pleased me was the fact that I took over 15 minutes off of my race time from last year and there were no jellyfish to contend with. I wish it wasn't so slick from the rain. I was VERY hesitant on my bike in spots and that cost me in the long run. I could have reached my 3 hour goal, but missed by 5 minutes. Next year I will break through that and finish in under three hours. The temperature being below 100 degrees definitely helped me. I ran the 10k in 58 minutes, only 3 minutes slower then my best stand alone 10k time.

Which brings me back to the question, do I want to do a half Ironman? I can do the swim now if I had to. The swim I did in the James this morning was killer long, and I was fine, even with limited sleep from being woken up by my kids through out the night. I was surprised when the hour was up. I know I can cycle for 56 miles, I have done it before, but I don't do it on a regular basis. I have done half marathons before, so I know I can run the distance. But the question is, can I put them all together? Am I prepared to spend over 6 hours of my life on a race it takes great athlete's four and five hours to complete? Do I have the time to train for such an event? Do I want to have this race at the start of my season?? I don't know, but I don't have loads of time to decide. This race fills up pretty quickly and it's sort of like do or die at this point.

I guess if I made these decisions quickly and with the confidence my husband has, I would have to rename my blog wouldn't I? Dee "The ready to take on any triathlon triathlete" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Oh, I don't know! But I will soon enough, then I might have to blog more because getting ready for a 1/2 Iron distance will have moments that will sooooo be worth blogging about! To be continued....

Still Not Sure What's Going On, But I Am Still Training

Yes I am still training, that would be why my rump hurts this morning. Yesterday I ran hills with my husband and one of my Marathon Team Training coaches, Shawn. He said he had a killer hill near where we live, he wasn't kidding. It made the one we ran up and down at the Grove like a bunch of undecided salmon seem positively tame. It is brutal, .2 miles of sheer, unadulterated steepness, that only gets steeper the last 50-75 feet at a time when your quads, hams and glutes are begging to stop, asking that you might take a break. When I say I almost barfed the last three repeats after that last little bit of distance, I am not kidding. Shawn teased me and said that would be reason enough for him to run the hills.

I don't know what I am hoping to accomplish by running these hills, get faster? I guess that's why my husband entered us in to the Cul-De-Sac 5K series. Two weeks ago we ran our first, I was a bit slow at the start because it was a mass start and I was in the back of the pack, but I finished in 27 minutes, 13 seconds. I made up time, and finished where I usually do for a 5k. The following week we ran the same route. I started more up front, but right before the start these old people got in front of me. Once again, I had to pick through to get to a spot where I could run without a bunch of people in front of me. I had to make up time. I kept checking my Garmin and I was running sub 9 minute miles the whole way which is good for me. I wound up running the 5k in 26 minutes and change, the seconds escape me, but I was 44seconds faster. Did I mention it was over 90 degrees while we were running and I felt like barfing? But it was my first triumph this particularly dismal race season for me. The first thing I did right I felt. I have never run a sub 27 minute 5K before.

If you remember my last pity post, I was bemoaning my swimming, if that's what you can call it. When I brought my girls to Tri team the Monday following my disaster in the James, their coach, Michael asked how I did. I was honest, told him how awful my swim was and he offered up he had an open water swim class at 6 in the morning on Wednesdays. I told Brad about it figuring nothing more would come of it, but where was I, 6am, two days later? That's right, poised on the bank of the James River, ready to jump in and swim for an hour. We signed up for a month worth of that torture. This past week was particularly good for me. I found my stroke, I was rotating at my hips, reaching long boat style, good form. During my 400M warm up I had a facial encounter with a fish. It swam right by my goggles and scared the crap out of me. The warm up was 400meters followed by a ladder workout. You kept increasing your pace until you were almost at race pace at the end.

We focused on speed and on not putting our feet down to recover. We had to tread water, boo! So we started with 50m repeats. Swim as hard as we could to the blue buoy. Our coach was waiting there in his kayak. Stop, recover for 30 seconds and do it again, we did that four times. Then we switched to 100m repeats. 4 of those, same as the 50's. You go down on the right side of the buoys, back to the left to avoid swimming head on into someone. Everyone wears brightly colored swim caps too, to avoid the head on thing as well. I was feeling great, I had started in group two, we were broken up into two groups according to speed, and wound up getting myself thrown in with group one I was swimming so well for my group. I was pleased, not too shabby I was thinking smugly to myself. I was on top of the world, then blam! I swam head on into something that grabbed me by my shoulders screaming, Are you okay? Are you okay? Some guy, without a swim cap, swimming out on the wrong side of the buoy totally punched me in the face while he was stroking. Now I know why I avoid bar room brawls. Getting punched in the face hurts like heck! My goggles jammed into my eye socket and I have a delightful bruise on my cheek, at least I don't have another black eye, ala trail running while training for the Bear Creek 10 miler... I finished up the work out, the water feeling good where my face was starting to swell. You know, I don't even do anything wrong, I had on my swim cap, I was siting properly, I was on the correct side of the buoy and I wind up getting hurt, why? Enough of that, I now return you to my regular blog....

The not putting your feet down to catch your breath, and resting like that was killer. But I did learn to tread water more efficiently. After our 100's we did
150's hooray!! Holy cow, I was spent. I was never more glad to hear our hour was up and it was time for us to do a cool down. I did 100m easy one. Switching strokes and really taking it easy. I couldn't wait to get out of the river and see my face, which, incidentally wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. The bruise is a pale brown and easily missed. But I felt pretty good about how I swam, so there's something.

I have been carrying on with my Wednesday night rides too. I did 22 this week as opposed to 25, the getting up at 4:45 to get to the swim on time, followed by a run while the girls are at tri team swim and doing the 25 mile ride that night takes some getting used to. A spread out tri through out the day. It's not the exertion as much as it's the early wake up!

So I have the Three Sport tri this weekend. A chance to redeem myself from my performance at the Shady Grove tri, same course, different sponsor, and the NYC Tri the next weekend. I am hoping to do way better there then I did last year. Last year, my bike was having gear issues, this year, Bonni is a happy girl!

I definitely have to blog about my favorite run of the year.It is coming up two days before the NYC Tri, the Underwear Run, where we will be going for a worlds record for number of people running in their skivvies! Look for the Pink Panther and Inspector Clousseau to make an appearance!

The I Wish Someone Else Filled in for me so I can still love the tavern tri post

Whew, that was a long one. But I needed a long title because only that could do my swim justice. I have been training, really I have, but you wouldn't know it by my performance this weekend. I wanted to be witty and off handed about how it took me 26 minutes in that endless pool called the James River that I had to swim in on Sunday. It was positively demoralizing when I got my results after this brutal excuse for a triathlon. I deluded myself into thinking I did okay after all was said and done. I did run better then my last triathlon, which isn't saying much. I just cannot get into the spirit of my blog and once again poke fun at myself after knowing I tried my absolute hardest and wound up placing where I did. I dunno, it is definitely food for thought. Do I carry on with training and trying or do I shelf everything and just turn away from doing tris for awhile. Just run for the health of it? Bike because I have made friends with a really nice group of people on my Wednesday night ride?

I don't know, I will keep you posted....

My hairy belly after a hairy swim....

No, I don't really have hair on my belly, but I did yesterday after swimming in the James. The Tri Club has had to cancel every open water swim this year so far due to the weather or how the weather effected the James River. Technically speaking, last night should never have happened. The river was 2 feet higher then what it should be for safe swimming, and the current was really something. When we got to the swim site, all I could think is the water is the color of mud. It was silty and mucky. My skin started to crawl imagining having to get in. Then, as we are standing there a log goes floating by. Yes, a log. My husband joked and said it was an alligator, which I guess was his attempt at humor and trying to distract me. He saw the pure, abject terror in my eyes when I saw what the river looked like. Anyway, the nice man leading the swim runs down the rules etc. and tells us to start getting in, which the water was supposed to be 79, I beg to differ. As all of us start making our way down the ramp, into the mushy, soft, squishy, get between your toes silt that winds up going up to your knees before you can push off and start floating and stroking, we are all remarking that we should have had our wetsuits on. It was chilly, but I eventually got used to it. We can't start until everyone is in, and I notice we are all floating down current from the start. We start yelling at every one to hurry up and get in before we float away. They tell us to start and away we go. Grinding away into the current. Dory is singing in my head, Just keep swimming, just keep swimming....I am thinking to my big, bad self, this isn't bad. Look at me go, I am swimming just fine with this current. What were they talking about 22 minutes up into it and just 8 back? This is easy! As I am puffing up with pride like a blow fish, something suddenly sinks itself into my right thigh. I literally jumped up, still in swimming position, mid stroke screaming like a maniac, what got me?? What got me??? It was just my friend Jill, grabbing at my thigh to tell me after 10 minutes of swimming, we got nowhere. I looked at her like she was mentally deficient. I go, "what are you talking about Jill, I have been swimming for 10 minutes now", and then I look over my left shoulder. I am literally maybe 50-75 feet down from where we started. Listen, can you hear that??? That is the sound of my ego, deflating like a rubber raft with a puncture in it.....Okay, what is it they say to do, shorter, choppier strokes, less glide? I must have looked like an old school egg beater, I couldn't have looked like I was doing anything productive....Just keep swimming, just keep swimming....Which I am doing, wham! A floating branch hits me in the head. Not hard, but enough to startle the hell out of me. Okay, face back in, keep going, I get hit by an assortment of things, ginger ale bottles, coke bottles, and then I swim straight into someone. My sighting was pretty poor, I was grinding away, thankfully it was someone I knew. Finally the kayaker next to me said, time to turn around. I did, angled myself 45 degrees into the shore and it took me all of 4 minutes to get back. 4 freakin minutes to the 22 that it took me to go what, 250 meters if I was lucky?? Talk about making you feel like you have no clue what you are doing. I have been working on my swimming for 3 years now, and I felt like I had no freaking clue by the time I got out.

Anyway, when I got home, I felt like I needed a bath big time. I had the creepy crawlies. Now I know why. When I pulled my suit down, I was covered in a mat of brown "stuff". Sort of reminded me of this movie I saw when I was really little and people would get this brown fur and turn into werewolves afterwards, but there I was, looking like the next werewolf from the movie or at the very least I was from the East German's women's swim team. It was really awful. I had it on spots on my back, and truth be told, I couldn't stand the thought of looking any lower then my stomach. I did scrub myself wildly everywhere when I hit the shower, which I had on as hot as I could stand. The stuff coming off me on the shower floor was truly horrific.

I got out of the shower looking like I had crawled out of the lobster pot, but at least the hair was gone. If I had just used the mental brush in the shower to get rid of the memory of how I grew the fur in the first place....

A Disappointing Power Sprint and Surviving the MS 150

Once again, a long time since the blog has been updated. Race season is in full swing and loads of stuff has been happening. After surviving the Rocketts Landing Duathlon, which I was still scarred from, I had the Power Sprint to look forward to. I had been training for it, but for whatever reason on race day things just didn't fall together the way they should have. I had a great swim, but I was held up twice by lap traffic, which once upon a time never bothered me, but this time it did. I know I can swim 300 meters in 6 minutes or better, but I got held up some and finished in 6:30. I have to say the bike leg was the best thing I did. I increased my speed considerably from last year and finished strong. My run was the thing that did me in. It actually took me 30 minutes to run the 5k *gasp*. Now I know I am no Kenyan when it comes to running, but it's a pretty poor state of affairs when turtles blow past you laughing their shells off. I don't know why I was so frickin slow, but there I was, like a car with three flats (which makes me think of that joke about when Pirelli tires go flat, daygo wop wop wop wop...well I went wop wop wop too must be the eye-talian in me). Finally, not too far from the end a guy I used to run with, Fred, started yelling at me I was running like a girl, which used to be a good thing once upon a time, but not so this day. I was running like a girl who forgot how to use her legs. That yell was good to hear though,it was like someone shocked me like that dog in Something About Mary, and I picked up my pace to where it should have been the last 2.5 miles before. I flew through the last part of my run, and finished my race in 1 hour 21 minutes. So disappointing for me, but I finished I guess. Not at all what I had hoped for but it was what it was. Oh to go back to that race, to just motivate myself more. Once again, it would have been enough to finish upright last year, but not so much this year. We did start Marathon Training team the day before too. It probably wasn't the best idea for me to run those 6 miles the day before. I can make a million excuses, the fact remains I was disappointed with my performance. I came in tied for 15th in my age group, out of 44, so I suppose it would have been good last year, but not this year, there's that mantra once again.

I did make mention of the Marathon Training team. I love it so far. My first run was okay, I hadn't been running 10k a lot, so it was good to have to. I am a Navy Team member, Brad started on Navy with me but quickly discovered his fruity side when he realized he was more Cranberry then Navy. He belongs with those rabbity types. I can't say I am with turtles or snails, but I am definitely not hopping along at a Cranberry pace. Anyway, I did get lost this last run. I couldn't figure out where the heck I was supposed to go and well I wound up doing almost 7 miles for a 6 mile run. Did I mention how amazing it is for me to be able to mention these distances like they're no big deal. I often sit back and think, is this really me? Who is this person who can talk about running 6 miles, or 8 like there's really no big thing involved?

I did miss my second Training team training session. I was busy riding the MS 150 with my team. Actually, I was busy chasing down my husband and team mates, they were way faster. I had never ridden farther then 50 miles. To do 150 miles in two days was daunting to say the least. I, and my bottom half, faced this with much trepidation....I didn't relish the thought of having sore girl parts, or heinie. I have to say my cyling shorts, Glide and Chamois Butt'r combination did alright for me. The free Cream Ale at the Williamsburg welcome did alright by me too! I did a majority of my ride by myself, I did hook up at the end of day 1 with this nice guy named George that reminded me of my Uncle John. He took pity on me grinding away by myself. But anyway, I survived the first 75, which was actually a bit longer then that, had a lovely evening dining with our Tri Club friends and I was out by 8:30PM. The next morning my stomach was in knots. I knew how tired I was from the day before and I thought how the heck am I going to do this back? I managed to find a fabulous little group to ride with, and the four of us had one heck of a good time throwing movie quotes out as we suffered along. I thanked God for my Granny ring on two hills, didn't have to walk my bike up any hills, and gained the respect of my riding friends because of how well I powered up the hills. I got to help some one suffering from the heat, draft off our local weatherman, and thank God for every pedal stroke that I could do what I was doing. I finished the second day in 6 hours. I spent 12 hours in the saddle over two days, made some really nifty friends as I rode, laughed a lot the second day, saw some beautiful country and wound up saying I rode 150+ miles in two days time. Not once was I dissatisfied, not once did "but not this year pop in my mind". Don't know if I will ever get faster then 6 hours each way and I don't think I care, not this year anyway.....

I Ran Around a Pool and Swam With the Fishes

Run around a pool you ask? Why yes I did. We have a neighborhood pool a block away from us, and around the pool is this lovely, shaded path. It is a bit over a quarter of a mile, so it makes a great track when you can't get to the track to do a repeat workout. Yesterday the work out was, drum roll please...800 meter repeats! Yay for torturing yourself like that 6 times! Whoopppeeee! Nothing like them.

So we warm up around the neighborhood and get down to them. The first one I did I was pacing too closely with Brad. I think I looked like Beaker from the Muppets by the time my first one was done. Hair standing on end, eyes bugging out. Okay, 400 meter cool down here I come. Alrighty then, here we go again, I paced myself a little better, but ugh....still.....feeling.....like.....I......am......going....to....barf......
There were people working on the pool that had to think who are these lunatics? It's over 80 degrees, and they're running around like a set of mentally deranged loons.

One would think that one work out a day would be enough. Hahahahahaha, phew *wipes tears from eyes and catches breath here* that would be a negatory Houston. Brad is all happy there is a Tri Club open water swim that we will be participating in. Isn't that exciting?? I grudgingly go to these because if I don't, I get wayyyy too grossed out in the open water. It's like I have to learn to deal with the ick factor, and have coping strategies otherwise, well forget it! I cannot do it!

As luck would have it, the swim was cancelled, hooray! I was just so happy to hear that, then Brad calls me with his version of GREAT NEWS! Our friend Craig has a place where we can open water swim. The thing that gets me is I don't even get an option, he never gives me the chance to bag out of an open water swim. Maybe this is a good thing because if it were up to me, I wouldn't do them at all, but I digress. We are meeting Craig at 6, hooray for swimming with living things around you!!

As far as swimming in open water, this wasn't half bad. It was a little unnerving that I was playing with froggies to be that were at the foot of this lake. It was a little cold for me at first, a bit disorienting and I had to take my first couple of strokes with my face barely in the water. After I got acclimated I watched Craig and Brad swim way far ahead of me. I got to practice sighting which I don't get to do enough. I sighted them a bajillion meters ahead of me, but it was all good. I take a slower and steadier approach in open water. I don't want to cramp up or anything like that, so I have to stroke a lot more deliberately. My form was terrible, I kept catching myself with bending my legs and not rotating. But see, when I am in that kind of water, I am not thinking about my form like when I am in a pool. I am thinking about what if those tadpoles got in my suit in places I wouldn't want them? Or, what if there's a big fish just waiting to attack my toes, or a snapping turtle? Those things are dog @ss ugly, or what if there are snakes, which then made me think of eels, and then I thought of unagi, which is a fresh water eel sushi that I really like. So see, there is a peek into the inner machinations of my mind as I swim in something teeming with life. There is no concentration on my form, which isn't second nature for me yet, so it suffers and I tend to waste a lot more energy then I should.

Before you know it I had reached them, we turned around and off we went back to the beach where we started. I got out, I was getting a little cold actually and toweled off while Craig went hunting for a turtle he had seen. I had to laugh, I went back to playing with the froglets, if you left your feet still enough, they would come and peck at them sort of, it was kind of neat really. But then I got thinking what if one of them made their way into my suit and were pecking in places they shouldn't?? Ugh, mental brush, mental brush, scrub, scrub, scrub.

As Brad and Craig were chattering away, I watched a hawk flying back and forth overhead majestically and hoping there weren't tadpoles in my suit. It was a nice swim in a lake, a grueling run around a pool kind of day and a day hoping I left all the tadpoles I had seen in the lake I had been in....

I was Tri-ing to do the Du

This was my first triathlon of the season. But, thanks to Mother nature, plans were altered. Let me say that this whole week we have been watching the James River and it's height. It was well above any level that we could swim in it legally. Lo and behold, it dropped and dropped, and the first ever Rocketts Landing Olympic Distance Triathlon was on! Yay, I think, and in hindsight, boy do I wish it was....

The end of this whole week it was supposed to rain and storm. We got some sprinkles here and there but nothing appreciable that would add to the previously swollen James. Then it happened, duh duh duh (that's my dramatic music)! We got the mother of all storms last night and the James rose over a foot. We were borderline okay for the swim, all I could think was this is going to be a Duathlon. But we packed up our gear, and our wetsuits, and off we went at 5:30AM to get to the race and our transition set up. Darn if it doesn't start raining on our way. Heck, we're going to get wet anyway, so whatever right??

Okay we get to our rack, set up our bikes, lay out our gear in the order we need to access it so our transitions go more quickly and stand on line for the port-a-potties. Not to get graphic, but if you've never used a port-a-potty at a triathlon, you really haven't experienced gross yet. I cannot imagine why everyone has to take a do, nerves maybe? But they are absolutely obscene. I just had to take a whiz and didn't relish relieving myself in my wetsuit while I was swimming. Yep, today was wetsuit legal. The James was a refreshingly brisk 67 degrees this morning. So there I am on line to use the loo, getting ready to swim in a freakishly cold river, and I spy the current. There were ducks trying to swim up river, and I literally saw them get whisked away. Holy currents Batman, the water is flowing better then cheap beer at a college bar. I have butterflies now, that are in danger of turning into red tailed hawks...

I go back to transition, which is closing in 5 minutes, and grab my wetsuit. Brad and I suit up, always a fun past time, it's like putting on spandex pantyhose that are ten sizes too small all over your body. Get the suits on and these big, black clouds start rolling in over the already dreary gray ones.

Everyone starts making the exodus to the river site where we are all supposed to start from. The rain started falling harder, the wind started to pick up. Brad jumped into the James to get a little warm up in before the start and he is stroking beautifully, he looks great, like he's swimming in an endless pool. He gets out, looks at me and shakes his head. To that, one of our friends says, "Oh Sh*t that's not good". Laurie, the race director, starts giving out instructions. The race start is moving down to where we are supposed to get out, and the course has been shortened quite a bit. That's good, we all walk to where we are now going to get in and the clouds open up, it is torrential. Brad puts his goggles on, I have to giggle, and the wind starts gusting. I would say it was around 30 miles per hour, no kidding. Time for the race to start. Blue caps hop in the water, to be followed by the yellow caps, which Brad is, then the pink caps, which I am one of. The horn shrieks and off they go. It was like watching an old time keystone cops movie. Everyone was trying to head up, then across, then back, but there was absolutely no rhyme or reason to what we were seeing. People were everywhere. Some were getting swept down river so quickly, others were bravely trying to make it to the buoy which kept moving, some were bobbing up and down, some were flailing. Only the very strongest of swimmers were making it anywhere. The kayakers were paddling like crazy to stay in one place. No matter how much the paddled, the got no where. The police boat had it's motor cut off, and it was being hauled down river. Then the first of our intrepid blue caps starting patting the top of their head, that means, I am in distress. Then another, then another. The kayakers couldn't get to the people fast enough, after about ten minutes of watching the melee, Laurie called off the swim. The first annual Rockett's Landing Triathlon was now officially the first ever Rockett's Landing Duathlon. Whoopee, we were getting to run 2 miles, it was actually 2.4, bike for 24, then run another 6.2. We go back to transition, we are freezing, get back to our spots, my bike helmet is not on the handle bars, I see one of the lenses of my glasses on the ground, my bike gloves are no where to be seen. The wind was so strong it blew my helmet and it's transition contents to I don't know where. So I start picking through transition and find all of my belongings, put my glasses back together and get ready to do a Du.

We were going off in two waves. Boys first, then girls. Wouldn't you know it, I had to use the port-a-potty again. As I am sitting there, I hear, ladies line up! Ack, pee faster, get out of there. I do, surprised I don't have toilet paper trailing behind me, get on the back of the line, and off we go. I don't know how fast I was running, but all I could think is this sucks! I have to cycle after this?? Just as I was griping to myself, the clouds start dropping buckets of water and the wind is howling and it stayed that way for the duration of the run. I finish the 2 miles, cross the timing mat, kick out of my sneakers, put on my cycling shoes, put on my helmet and glasses and start running my bike out of transition. The wind is so strong, the rain pelting me and I think I must be out of my freakin mind.

The ride was uneventful save the wind, rain and a nasty bike wreck I saw in enough time that I avoided being caught in it. I made it back, I don't know my time and truly by the time I was done, I don't think I cared. I did ask a volunteer if I was running because my legs were so numb I couldn't feel them. Kick out of the bike shoes and take a huge swig out of my water bottle. I was afraid to remove my hands from the handle bars to grab my water bottle because of the weather and how slick the roads were. I didn't hydrate properly and that would interfere with my run. I knew it would, but truly, I was so afraid after seeing the bike accident. I decided to pay the price later while I was on my two feet as opposed to while I was riding going 17, 18, 19 miles per hour.

So back to my sneakers, grab my visor to keep the rain from pouring in my face and off I go. I did okay, mile 1, no problem. I see Brad finishing up and cheer my Bud on. Mile 2, no problem, mile 3, still good. There were lots of stairs, hills, it was a tricky and challenging course. I was still running, I was happy, my endurance was there. Was I running like Brad, heck no. But I was running and doing the whole thing, then I hit mile 5, yikes! Cramps in my right hamstring. Damn it, I am so close, I have around a mile to go. So I start fast walking and trying to stretch. I meet a very nice man who looks as though he is going to barf and he walks with me. The last half mile is a fairly ugly uphill. Ed, the nice man I met tells me not to wait on him, so I start to run, it hurts, I don't care. I can hear the end, I want it to end and it does come to end. Although a very nice lady whose bike was was racked with mine blows past me like I am standing still in the last 50 feet or so, and it was a beautiful pass on her part, I finish. It ended just like everything else that happened that day, with the triathlon gods laughing, screwing things up, making nothing but chaos out of something that should be orderly and spitting in my face, or maybe that was just the rain...

So many races, so little time...

Okay, I haven't blogged in FOREVER!!! Shame on me, truth be told, I have completely forgotten! I have raced in a couple of events, I believe I wrote about the Sweetheart 8k and the 3 Miler. Since then I did the Ukrops 10K. Bad experience with the food we ate the night before or I had a mild stomach bug. I actually had to hit the loo on the race course, but I was still kind of happy with my 55 minute finish. If I didn't have to stop, I can guarantee it would have been 54 minutes, just wait until next year, I plan on a 52 minute finish. I know I can do it, so I look forward to the opportunity.

Next race was the Muddy Buddy. My husband and I, team Married With Children, came in a very respectable 4th. We actually were on the podium, and got a medal, very cool experience for me. I have only placed one other time when I came in second. I held us back though, my running was slower then I was happy with, so next year we can only do better right??? It was fun too because we had a bunch of friends racing with us. I think I race because I like the company we keep from it.

Today I did the Cap to Cap 1/2 Century. You could choose 25, 50 or 100 mile distances. My husband did the full Century. He was a beast. He finished that ride in 6 hours. Mine, the Half Century, I finished in around 3. It was pretty cool...Let me rewind and say I have only ridden on the road once or twice in the last long while. I have been on the trainer though several times a week, and it obviously has been a decent enough substitute.

I had the pleasure of riding with a friend for the first 12 miles, she has a nagging leg injury so she sort of slowed some for the rest of the ride because it was bothering her. I paced myself around 18 miles an hour while I was riding alone. I did try and pace line with other people. I realized as I rode that my real talent is on the hills. I passed more people powering up hills, and there were some doozies today, then I did on the flats. I stayed in my big ring the whole ride too, that pleased me no end. Before I was a middle ring girl using my Granny ring to get up hills, not so anymore. My legs were pumping like mad, but I was getting mad results in return, not just getting tired!

The ride had 3 rest/food/hydration stops. They we divine, the water was icy cold, the Powerade too, and there was a great assortment of energy enhancing snacks. I took advantage of each stop because I was a little nervous never having ridden that far. I wanted to make sure I had some gas left in the tank to finish the race so to speak. I definitely was not disappointed. Good strategy on my part, I finished my race today pacing behind two gentlemen sporting Capital Ale House cycling jerseys. I kept blowing past them on the hills and they'd pass me on the flat. Then I would stay on the last person's rear tire and pace with them. There was a pretty wicked head wind we were riding in to at the end. I joked with my husband saying I felt like Marcel Marceau riding up hill in the wind. I was moving, but I wasn't getting anywhere. But I did eventually get somewhere, and that was the end of my 50 miles, it wound up being 52 or so by the time I was done. I had visions of beer jerseys dancing in my head, and when all was said and done, I had visions of doing the ride again next year as I sat with a beer in my hand.

Spreak Break or Smith Mountain Lake?

Life is full of decisions. Some easy some not. My husband came home from a ride with his crew of crazy fellow bike enthusiasts, and put forth the question, "Since we're not doing California anymore, do you want to do Smith Mountain with our friends instead?" I, as always warily asked, "When is it?". It winds up being the weekend we were leaving for Spring Break.

Since our whole California adventure was nixed, we have decided to go to Florida and hit Universal Studios up instead. It should be fun, and we had planned on leaving the Friday the girls got out of school. Turns out the race is on Saturday. So we would have to leave on Sunday. Seeing the indecision in my eyes, he threw in the laundry list of who would be there. Of course I LOVE the people mentioned. They are more fun then a barrel full of monkeys, not the Midlothian kind mind you, to hang out with. We all banter and have fun, it is a genuinely good time. Still, it's Spring Break, the kids are sort of smarting from not being able to go to California and doing everything we planned there, although Florida was an acceptable substitute for them, and I wanted to be home for Easter. Plus we have tickets to the Frozen Four the Saturday before Easter. What to do, what to do? Brad still, sensing my indecision tosses one more bone out for me, Deb is letting us take the Magic Bus and Jim is making a trailer for it for our bikes...The Magic Bus was the best part of the Bear Creek 10 miler we ran how many freezing weekends ago? A bunch of adults crammed into a day care bus with food and drink galore. It was more fun then I remember being allowed to have on a bus. And the driver was a nice lady to boot!

So there's the rub, what to do, what to do? I thought about it a bunch yesterday. Brad tried to ply me with it's only a 300 meter swim, it's only a 12 mile ride, it's only a 5k run. You could do that with your eyes closed. Yeah, my eyes closed as I am being carried away on a gurney by some nice paramedics who found me passed out on the side of the road. Could I do it, absolutely, do I want to? Well duh, what's the name of my blog? It's not Dee-the-triathlete-that-does-every-triathlon-willingly-triathlete or Dee-the-rush-into-every-tri-with-a-happy-heart-triathlete. it's Dee-thereluctanttriathlete. I have a name and image to live up to or I would have to change my blog name. Then where would I be? Doing more triathlons then I should, with a happy heart, and having nothing to write about so the frustrated writer in me would be extremely unhappy...Then what would I name my blog???

Ack! That would lead me to another decision I just don't want to have to make. My life is full of too many decisions, now what was I trying to decide on again??

A great, big swim clinic, salsa dancing, and an almost disastrous 3 miler

This past weekend was a busy one for me. We virtually never have plans, but this weekend was perfect storm of activities for us. It was my husband's birthday on Friday. We went out to dinner. A place named Texas de Brazil. We had heard nothing but stellar things about this restaurant, a sort of steak house with this gourmet 21 item salad bar with everything from seared tuna, to Italian cold cuts. Then there are these guys dressed as Gauchos carrying spits of chicken, ribs, sausage, filet Mignon, Parmesan encrusted pork, a veritable meat lovers paradise and PETA nightmare for sure, to your table, slicing the meats fresh from the fire onto your plate. Anyway, it is supposed to be so fabulous, that we decided to go. I guess with such high expectations being let down shouldn't have been a surprise. They didn't have the tuna I had heard only amazing things about on the salad bar, the sushi was terrible, the rice was crunchy and undercooked, the fish in it flavorless. The Lobster bisque was really good though, I will give that props, and the prosciutto which was sliced whisper thing, just perfect! Our waitress was the absolute pits. I cannot tell you how poor our service was. I heard the wait staff at tables around us and was disappointed we got such a dud. She made no offer of sauces for our meats, like the other staff members did for our neighboring tables, it was difficult to get her attention or to have her come back in a timely manner.

The gauchos were fantastic, very attentive. My husband tried the sausage, lamb chop, which he said tasted blech, a chunk of flank steak, a piece of chicken breast wrapped in bacon, ribs and his favorite the Parmesan encrusted pork. I had ribs, which usually I love, but liked so little here I barely ate one of them, a piece of the Parmesan encrusted pork, which was good, a bit of steak, literally they shaved a small slice off and gave my husband a six ounce serving at least, that was too heavily seasoned with salt for me, a bit of the chicken with bacon which I cut in half and gave the other half to my husband, and I decided I was done. To my disappointment the filet mignon, which I was really looking forward to, never made it around to me, then after my plate was taken away, out comes a gaucho with, what else, the filet mignon. I liked the salads I had made, I had two servings of them and my half bowl of the lobster bisque that I was filled up on that.

At the beginning of our meal our disappointment of a server asked whose birthday it was because she was supposed to bring a slice of cake with a candle in it, which never happened. But I did order the creme brulee, which was another disappointment. I am a creme brulee fanatic, the dense creaminess, the crunch and bite of the burnt sugar carmelization. There was barely a sugar crust and the custard was almost whipped in texture. No denseness, no creaminess, just fluffiness that was oddly out of place in a creme brulee. I will have to mention that the company was to die for though. Definitely the high point of my evening.

On to Saturday. My husband signed us up for The Great Big Swim Clinic. It was three hours of learning what a horrible swimmer you were. I liked the underwater swim analysis, I learned that essentially, I suck as a swimmer and am incredibly inefficient! And let me tell you the guy who critiqued us, whose credentials are without a doubt most impressive, was brutal! I did get him to laugh though before he was done critiquing me, or letting me critique myself. His catch phrase after all was said and done was "At least my stomach looks flat" because after I was done beating my swimming to death on the video of me, I had to finish with something nice or I would have been crying. So I piped up with "but my stomach looks flat, so there's something good right?" At first, the swim instructor, I mean this guy has a swimming pedigree like a Grand Champion in the Westminster Dog Show, looked at me like I was a dope, but then his dour and business like face cracked into this grin and he had to chuckle. I kept checking in as we rotated through stations to see how we were all doing and if anyone had good form in his eyes. He said No, but some of us did have flat stomachs and that's all that mattered. Then I had to laugh, because I was taking a beating ego wise as I kept hearing all the things I needed to change, his little bit of humor got me smiling and ready to go get beat up some more. All of the instructors were truly amazing, but there was so much to remember! And trying to put it all together is going to be nothing short of a miracle for me. I keep trying to pick one of the many things I am doing wrong to concentrate on, but like I said, there are just so many things that I am not doing right, I don't even know where to start!! Then trying to do it all together, ugh, I am totally overwhelmed by it all. Here I thought I actually was at least a mediocre swimmer. I am a legend in my own eyes!

Okay done in the pool, time to shower, dress and get over to the dance studio where we were invited to a salsa/swing dance party for two hours followed by dinner with our friends. I have to say, salsa dancing is tough. To see all of our triathlete friends trying to salsa dance, when a majority of them had done Ironman Triathlons, and the pained expression on their faces. Surely this wasn't as tough as an Ironman was it?? But we managed, after some beer, Patron Gold and munchies to muddle our way through, all the while laughing at ourselves and teasing each other, and having a really good time. The two hours flew by, it went way faster to me then the three hour swim clinic we were just at and off to a Vietnamese restaurant with the 9 other couples we had just danced with.

Conversation was lively, the food fantastic. I had never had Vietnamese cuisine before so it was a real treat. I got thinking that we had that 3 miler in the morning and decided that abstaining from the Damnation beer everyone was chatting about with it's 14% alcoholic content was in my better interest. It was supposed to be ugly in the morning and I told Brad, if it is 35 and raining, like it was forecast to be, don't wake me up. Our evening ended around 10, all of us agreeing we needed to get together again very soon, and out to our cars in the pouring down, very cold 34 degree rain we trudged. I was fairly convinced I wouldn't be getting my morning wake up call for the race.

Tap, tap, tap...Hi honey, are you going to run this morning? I crack open one eye and start to try and focus my world around me. Hmmmm, am I going to go? My stomach feels queasy, not nice. Why I wonder. I didn't drink but a beer last night, made sure it wasn't dark to avoid any headache issues, but my stomach was lurching around like a kid playing blind man's bluff who is it. I stayed in bed while my husband showered, yes he showers before and after he races, can you say Howard Hughes?? Swing my legs over the edge of the bed, put my feet on the floor and hoist myself up. There, that's a little better. I guess I feel okay. I sort of drag myself through things getting ready and I decide to go. I don't know why, I really don't feel all that great. Maybe trying a new food before a race wasn't a good idea. I do love trying new stuff though, what we ordered only one dish was semi-spicy and differently spiced then what I am used to eating. Brad finally admits on his way there that he feels not so great too. I will not go into the undignified details of what happened to me when we got to the race after packet pick up, it wasn't the worst thing, but definitely not the best way for my innards to react before a race. So I get back to the car and complain about how miserable I am. I keep lamenting the fact that I am going to get killed in this, a RRRC sponsored race where everyone there is a pure runner and that's all they do. Brad pipes up trying to make me feel better, you will beat that old lady in purple there. Then there was a man, with a really red face and a snow white beard and snow white hair sticking up everywhere, who comes walking out of packet pick up just then that I point out looks like a howler monkey or a macaque or some other simian, and Brad tells me I will definitely beat the Midlothian Monkey.

Strange, if I am remembering correctly, I told my husband to not to wake me up if it was 35 degrees and raining. There I am, standing with 150 other people waiting for them to yell start in 34 degree weather and misting. OHHHH! That's different then 35 degrees and raining. Now I know why he woke me up! Anyway, they yell go, and off we go. I am tra-la-laing along, feeling sort of miserable and at mile two of this delightful three miler, my stomach starts to do all sorts of goofy things. I sprinted ahead to a place on the trail where no one can see me and worry about what might come flying out of me. I start walk/jogging again and another wave of stomach yuck hits. It's cramping, and queasy and just plain awful. I slow down, a lot, and wait for the yuck to pass. It does and I see I am pretty close to the end. Maybe 600 meters, so I pick it up a little, then a lot when I see the finish is actually near the tennis courts as opposed to out in the parking lots where I think they are. Yay! That's wayyy closer! I hear a pack of kids, and yes they were kids from a nearby school behind me, and since it wasn't a chip start I figured it would be a cluster F**k at the finish trying to note every one's bib numbers there if I let them pass me, so I run faster, my final kick and hoof it to get to the finish like. It took me 27 minutes to run :( I think I was getting lapped by old ladies with walkers but whatever. I am done. I find my husband, get my perfunctory bottle of free water, look for a bagel but they have donuts instead, grab a plain cakey one hoping to settle my tummy, meet a very nice running friend of my husband, look at Brad and say, take me home. I came in fifth in my age group and 96th out of 150. Those weren't old ladies in walkers whizzing past me, that was the old grape lady in and the Midlothian Monkey, both of whom beat me. Oh the indignity...

Serves Brad right to wake me up and run in that weather. He was so looking forward to races in his new age group, 45 to skeleton in shoes, and even though he ran a blistering 20 minute 3 miler, he came in 6th in his new age group. He would have come in fourth if he decided to do the Peter Pan thing and never grow up. Aging up is usually a good thing, it's how I plan on getting on the podium someday :) Not so good with these mid-life men looking for their fountain of youth.

I went home, showered, put on my sweats and rested the rest of my day. They rest, as they say, is history...

Riders, Elitists and Snobs, Oh My!

If any of you know me, and I think like three of you do, you will know Bonnie Blue Bell (my bike) and I have a tenuous relationship at best. We were okay in the beginning, BC, before clips. Those cages I had at first were a little difficult to get used to at first. But get used to them I did, and that lead to some blazing fast transitions when I competed in tris. I didn't have the shoes to clip in and out with, run through transition in, then switch to my running shoes. I had my sneakers on, slid into my cages, and slid out when I was done riding, dropped my bike and my helmet, no shoes to have to change. It was pretty, it was the only tri associated event which I did faster then my husband and irked my father in law silly when he saw I transitioned faster then Brad. Hahaha, that will be the only time I am faster then Brad unless they do a tri where you have to talk, iron and use the loo. I would whoop the hell out of him then!

Anyway, all I kept hearing was how your pedalling was so much better and stronger with the clip less shoes. Okay, lets try it. That's when Bonnie and I started to not like each other much. The first time I fell and hurt myself with shoes that clip in, it actually wasn't on Bonnie, but I fell on a mountain bike because I couldn't unclip one of my shoes. I really walloped my head on the retaining wall of my driveway, smashed my husband's new cell phone in my bike shorts, plus totally tore my legs up on a plethora of bike parts from chains, to cranks, to pedals. REALLY, I am supposed to do better with these stupid shoes? Brad even got me a nice pair of Shimano cycling shoes to ride in, they made things a bit easier, they were new and fit well. I did notice a difference in my up and down stroke. Way stronger. So I kept trying to get comfortable with my feet stuck to my pedals.

Then we went for packet pick up one day for an upcoming race. While we were nosing around 3 Sports, one of my favorite shops to nose around, after we picked up our packets, I saw THEM. A pair of Shimano Triathlon shoes (different from cycling shoes because cycling shoes have two or three straps to triathlon shoes one big strap that looks like they strap the wrong way). Girl triathlon shoes and they were pretty, all white pearlized leather, with pretty light blue accents and catch this. They matched Bonnie! With a name like Bonnie Blue Bell one can guess my bike isn't red right? Sah-weet!!! Brad saw me looking at them and handling them with care so he had the guy he knows over there bring out a pair in my size. Darn if they didn't feel and look perfect. So Brad bought them for me, I am not going to say what he dropped on them, but he got them in the hopes I would want to wear them and that I might learn to love Bonnie and riding her with him someday while wearing them. I laugh every time I tell people my bike and shoes had to match so I can look good because Lord knows I am never going to place in a tri compared to some of the fabulous ladies I compete with, so I might as well look good while I am out there.

Okay, back to the present, yesterday my husband convinced me to ride with a bunch of cyclists who do the Rocketts Landing course. Rocketts is an Oly distance triathlon that Brad and I doing this May I think it is. He knows how shy I am about riding. I get scared of cars hitting me, scared of getting dropped by the pack, scared of getting lost. But he convinced me only after he promised he would ride with me, however slowly that might be. So we went. Thankfully the first person we met up with is this nice guy named Craig we know. Next Laurie, who organized the ride, pulled in. I really like her, she is such a mellow soul, nice to be around. There were a few other people I knew, and before you know it we are all hopping on our bikes and getting ready to go. There were a few people there that Brad had spoken pretty highly of from the last week. I guess they brought some of their cycling buddies with them and boy were they snobby. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to sound like sour grapes, but the way they looked at the slower of us in this group, and I mean we were most definitely slower, was reminiscent of how you look at what you just scraped off of your shoe that you shouldn't have stepped in. Truly, maybe that's why I prefer doing triathlons, because you don't get many elitist snobs.

But then you had my husband, who could totally be a snob if he wanted to, telling me how proud he was of me. That was after he showed me I was in the wrong gear going up that big ol' hill when we first started, kept pushing me onward and encouraging me, telling me I could ride the 20 plus miles. I fell in with two really great riders, Ruth and a guy named Brad of all things. When I did, I encouraged Brad to ride with the fast cyclist. He didn't want to, but I asked him to make sure and let us know if we were going to miss a turn etc. With his promise, he took off to catch that fast pack, all by his lonesome. Catch them he did, because he is good like that.

My newly formed trio took turns doing our own little pace line. Okay, maybe not at the 22-24 like the "fancy pants" riders were riding, but 18-20. We each took turns pulling and dropping back, and I really started to get comfortable with my gears. My Brad doubled back at one point to let us know there was a left we needed to make, and I started drafting on him from there. I was actually drafting at Brad's pace, I was in the twenties. WOW, this is what it's like to be fast. I drafted on him going up hill too, and I was never off of his wheel for the last 5 miles of that ride. Brad said I looked like a different rider who first started with a struggle with her gears.

I was so pleased with myself! I kept pace with one of the big boys. My big boy, who isn't one of those snobs, and who couldn't have been more pleased that I was there unlike the fast and furious riders. I chatted with my two new cycling buddies for a bit after we were done. Very nice people indeed!

Will I go back next week? I don't know, even though I am an adult, it still kind of stings when you stink at something and there are those who want to make sure you know it, but I will never get better if I don't keep going. Ah, there's conundrum...

Something to think about for sure, I want it to be someday that the only things that sort of smarts after a ride is my behind and not my ego...

10, 11, 12, 13, 14, how many races am I doing, and why Chipotle isn't training food...

First off I was going to blog about this hellacious track work out my husband had us do, and regardless if 4 hours past since lunch, a carnitas Chipotle burrito isn't good food to eat before you run it. More on that later...

Last night my husband was stuffing more races in his calendar then George Costanza had papers and all sorts of ephemera stuffed in his wallet (does anyone remember that Seinfeld episode besides me?) and said, "I am stopping at 20 that's a nice round number". Turns out he really had 21 races on his calendar, a not round number, but what's one race amongst friends right? I laughed and told him I wasn't doing a crazy amount of races. That I would be okay with a few and training, that was all I wanted to do. It feels good to be comfortable with just wanting to train and do a few races, not anything long course. He agreed with my strategy, no long course races for me this year, and a lighter schedule. But you know, it's hard to keep your schedule light when you wake up, open your email, and get notifications saying you registered for yet another race you had no flipping idea about. This morning it was the Whistlestart 5k. What the heck? It was like the Sweetheart 8k. I know I didn't register for it, but like a robot I woke up, stumbled out the door and ran for 46 minutes of my life to finish it. So now I have a 5k to run on March 14. Uhm Yay? I was hoping to do around 0 races this season, that's a nice round number, but no, as it stands right now, barring any more surprise races that I register for amnesiatically, I am running in 14 different races this season. Yes, 14. 14 isn't a nice round number to start, it's all edgy, to end, 14 is way more then a few.

So there's the rub, what to do? You have my husband looking up races and then asking, like he did last night, "Hey you want to do an early season tri with me? There's one, the Rumpass in Bumpass at Lake Anna." All snickering aside, I refuse to do anything that sounds like I have a Rump-ass and someone will be bumping my ass. Sorry, it's a matter of principal. It would be like doing a You'll-be-fina in Vagina race or something. I can't do it based on the name and because it will be an open water swim that was described as having water warmed up by 4 or 5 degrees by the nuclear power plant there. Hmmmm, having a race named after a heinie and the possibility of a third eye or being able to be used as a nightlight when I get out of the water, uhhhh, no. Not me. And again, I wanted a light season, so really 15 would make things so not light for my schedule. But then I wake up to this new 5k in my mailbox. At least it's not named a 5k Ditty in Ti....oops, I digress...

Granted some races are 5ks or the Muddy Buddy, which is just a fun race. When I met the guy who organizes it, I told him we'd be there, like he's really going to remember me if I'm not there, but I need to redeem myself after that wicked spill I took last year. I need to do better, if I don't Brad might get a new buddy to get muddy with...So really, they're not all A races. Some are just to do and to keep me training. But 14, that's way more then I had considered. I just got done telling a friend my race season would be light, okay, totally lied about that.

Back to my burrito. Brad had a track workout with this group he has been training with for the Ukrops 10k. He has a goal of Kenyan proportions as far as time goes in my eyes, but he couldn't make the track work out due to work. I always step in when he can't get out there with his group. So we bundle up, it was colder then cold and windy, two of our girls wanted to go with us and we head to the track. He tells me it will be an easier workout then he thought and easy is good in my book. We had Chipotle burritos for lunch. They are the size of nerf footballs, and I love mine with that mega spicy sauce on it. I always get the same, carnitas, black beans, rice and spicy sauce. No cheese, no guacamole, nothing else. Just meat, beans and spice. We needed something to eat, we had been dealing with a major ice catastrophe at the rink, our Olympia died in the middle of cutting the ice and that lead to ice damage, all the way down to the sand beneath, paint gone etc. and a patch job in addition to cancelling public sessions and free style. By the time we were done with all of that, we needed quick eats and I had to go get the kids. I figured our track work out would be cancelled, I had kids to pick up, Brad had meetings at 7:30p. But as luck would have it, Brad figured out a way for us to do it. My stomach did a flip thinking about running with a burrito sloshing around in it all the while. Where was I again, oh yes, easier workout...So we warm up for a mile. Nice easy 10 minute per mile pace. It was lovely, then the clouds parted and lightning bolts started shooting at me, not really, but that's what the work out was like. We had 3 sets of 1200 meters. I had to do mine in 5 minutes and 45 seconds. Ready, set, go and we start the first one. I did the first lap okay, I was at a minute 30, on pace for hitting that 5 minute 45 second goal. I didn't look at my watch for the second and third lap. I was concentrating on keeping that burrito to the confines of my stomach...ugh, it wanted to make a guest appearance. DONE with the first 1200 and I did it in 5 minutes, 45 seconds. Still gulping for air and trying not to barf, I settle enough to try another. I make it, but in 6 minutes even. Still, Senor Burrito is knocking on the back of my throat, begging to say hi to everyone outside my lips. I calm down and do the third set of 1200. This one, once again is in 6 minutes. When I was done, I had to walk over by the woods just in case. I didn't want to leave my calling card where people might walk, but the urge to wretch passes and here comes my mentally unstable husband with that crazy smile on his face I have come to love for some reason saying, Now we only have 2 sets of 800 and we're done! This wasn't so bad was it?? I am afraid to open my mouth and say anything, just in case. Thankfully it was darkish and Brad couldn't see the look I was giving him. Okay two sets of 800 meters, I can do this, I can do this I am thinking. We start the first set and by the middle of my first 400 meters, I am thinking this is it, I am going to be doing a Mexican technicolor yawn, insert hat dance music here. I had to stop at the end of that 400 and walk over to my place near the woods that I was before. I get myself settled down and actually decide to try the last 800. My husband's enthusiasm rubbed off on me, either that or he beats me about the head in my sleep and I am slightly brain damaged and don't know it yet. I start my last 800 and realize I am only going to be able to do another 400. See, when I get sick, whatever comes up I can't eat again for years, ask Brad how long he went without a Pizza Margherita from the last time I was sick. I LOVE Chipotle burritos, I didn't want to live without them for 5 years so I sacrificed my work out to a degree.

But I did learn a valuable lesson from it this, and that is SKIP the freaking track work out after you have ice problems and sit home with a glass of $2 buck Chuck in your hand instead. Then sit and laugh at races like the Rumpass in Bumpass and be glad you ate that burrito for lunch! Not at all what you were thinking was it ;)

A Sweetheart 8k with my Sweetie

Happy Valentine's Day!! Now that I got that out of the way on to the blog....You know, I didn't want to do this race. I hated the thought of doing this race, I hated the training I was trying to do with my chest feeling cement filled. But I did run this week to try and prep me.

Fast forward to this morning, it's 6:30AM and I get out of bed. It was so warm and felt so good in there. I didn't want to get up and put layers on to run an 8k I didn't even sign up for, WTF??? But I got up and started the shower. I hadn't showered from my 2950 yard pool swim yesterday, I should have blogged about that, it was a fabulous work out and the longest I had ever swam. I couldn't stand the chlorine smell in my hair. I went and had a yogurt and granola for breakfast, got my coffee, went back and hopped in the shower. It takes that long for the water to get hot in my bathroom on cold mornings. I am almost done when my husband comes in and he is in a total frenzy. "I wanted to leave already, I wanted to be there now". He is on the verge of losing it so I get out in a hurry and go to get my running layers on. As luck would have it, I couldn't find a running bra. I tore my closet apart and threw on one I finally found at the bottom of a heap of running stuff. I went downstairs to get my heart rate monitor, my hat, my gloves, my sunglasses and my favorite jacket. Couldn't find my jacket, had to substitute another, okay, I can deal. Where are my gloves, I have one pink and one black one that I run with, can't find those. Got my heart rate monitor and strap and here comes Brad, still in a frenzy. "Let's roll", it's what he always says when we get ready to leave for a race.

Just as we are leaving I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming down the stairs. It's my 6 year old, "Mommy, I don't feel good". At this point I am ready to say I am staying home. Too many little things going wrong, I can't stand it, and now Heather doesn't feel good. But she gives me a hug and tells me she's going back to bed, Brad in the meantime has headed out to the car. What to do, what to do? My race season ended with me not racing my last 2 races due to illness, is this how my season is supposed to start??? Okay, I will go.

I get in the car and we drive away, that's when I realize I don't have my sunglasses and I don't have my heart rate monitor with me. Looks like I am racing natural today. I hate that though. One of my favorite noises in a race is every one beeping as the hit their monitors at the start. And I need my sunglasses, contrary to the weather report, it is not cloudy, but vibrantly sunny and cold. This is going to stink, my eyes will be watering the whole way, which they did.

We get to the race and I realize how hilly this is going to be. It is worse then running in my subdivision, which is really hilly. We go on a warm up jog to get the blood flowing and our heart rates up, plus to warm us because gone are the 50 degree mornings we have been enjoying.

We get in line for the port-a-potties. There are two for around 350 racers. Brad looks at his watch, HE didn't forget his monitor, and says, "we will never make it, the race will start before we get to them." I tell him we will and we do. As we are waiting on line we always play this game, which port-a-potty door will open first. We bet on it and every time, regardless of what kind of race, I always win. Today was no different.

After that it was time to line up. There was no wave start, no corrals, just a mass of runners milling and waiting for the start noise. Can't describe the noise, it's one that the megaphone makes, but there's the noise and off we go. I grab Brad's arm, tell him to run his race, and that I will meet him on the other side, which, if you read this blog, you know is my standard line when we race. He smiled at me, and went ahead. That's where we hit the mother of all hills, I swear the thing was like a 45 degree angle and it lasted for the first 5 minutes of the race. By the time we hit the top of that hill my heart rate is soaring, but I couldn't tell you what it is because I DON'T HAVE MY HEART RATE MONITOR! We hit a nice downhill for a bit and then I see the first mile marker. I thought to myself, I thought we had run further then that, but okay, one down 4 more to go. The course went looping around this water hole of some sort and up through a neighborhood. Did I tell you this was the hilliest darn course I had ever run. I mean seriously we were up and down and up and down and uuuuuuuuuupppppppppppppppppp and down. Those hills would come when I thought I could least handle them. I had seen the second mile marker, but darned if I could find the third one. I must have passed it without noticing. We make our way through a nice neighborhood, come to this little foot bridge and there's a sign that says "Mile 4". I could barely contain myself, actually I didn't. I yelled for every one's benefit, MILE 4!!!! To which we all whooped a collective cry of relief was it?

But I was tired, and the little man in my head hadn't made an appearance yet. Where was he, I needed him to talk to me, because I swear, I wanted to walk, I wanted to give myself just a little break, but I told myself I couldn't. Could I be the little man?? Nah, I'm not that mean to myself, anyway, I trotted on through the neighborhood the race started in, hey, this is all familiar to me I got thinking. I come flying down the bottom part of the hill we ran up, we intersected the road at a halfway point, thanked two police officers for blocking traffic and wished them a good morning, got to the intersection where the race started and I am looking for the finish. This is good, I am done, NOT!!!!!!!!! The signs show we need to run around this lake in the middle of the subdivision. I can see the finish sign looming on the other side. What the heck?? What masochist thought this course up? But I can't stop now, can I? That's what those sneaky so and sos want you to think. So I run, I hit the little hills, increase my turn over, start pounding away, the finish line is closer, I see my Sweetheart waiting for me, I am running faster, imagining this is that road the leads to my street. The one I always try to sprint after a long run, the one I check and see if there is any fuel left in my tank. The light is on, I might only have a bit left, but I am flying on those fumes....I fly past Brad, through the chute and I am done!!!!!!!! Woot Woot! I look to see my time and it was 46:35. I broke that 50 minute mark I had hoped to break without breaking anything on me.

Maybe I need to not be able to find my running bra, or gloves or favorite running jacket. Maybe I need to forget my sunglasses and my heart rate monitor next time. I still think I would have preferred a box of chocolates...maybe next time.

Okay, so I lied

I don't lie frequently, but I did today. I didn't do a 30 minute recovery run, just like I knew my husband wouldn't take it easy on his bike ride. I got running, I did warm up for an easy 4 minutes while I rearranged my molecules and got everything, Ipod, sunglasses, running belt with phone in it, set just so. Then I started to run. It was a glorious day to run, a beautiful 60 or so when I went out, and it smelled so good. Fresh and spring like for a day in February....I trotted along and kept catching my heartrate in the 190 range. I don't do that unless I am sprinting. I wished I had my husband's Garmin on, it tells you how fast you are pacing yourself, although it looks like a laptop computer on my chicken wrists. You know, no matter how heavy I ever got, my wrists and ankles were always teeny tiny, I digress. But I was like, how come I breathing like this? I sounded worse then an obscene phone call....But when I saw on my heart rate monitor that I was beating at 190+ a minute, I knew I was busting it too hard. By the time my 28 minute run was done, I had run a 5k. Including my 4 minute walk warm up, I'd say I was running like Paula Radcliff. One can dream...

I have one further musing, I think I have finally decided what to do with my racing this season. I had an epiphany, more out our necessity then anything, but why was I going to drive myself into the ground with racing races I couldn't get ready for? After I finally admitted out loud that the Half Iron wasn't something I felt like I could do with my lack of training, I felt liberated, I felt honest, it felt good, especially after lying like I did today. But here's the rub, does that make me less an athlete? I want to do a Half Iron someday, I want to do a full Iron someday, I might even be brave enough to get a the tattoo after that, but does it have to be a year after I started racing? Me thinks the answer is no, at least for me. Maybe someday if I can do a sprint in an hour and ten minutes, heck why not shoot for an hour and five, or an oly in 2 hours and a half, maybe then I should look at upping the ante. Maybe then I will need the challenge.

As for now, call me Short Distance Shirley. Someday, maybe when I'm 50, maybe when I'm 60, you can call me Long Course Louise. And maybe then, I'll even have a shot at placing....

Faster then a speeding slug, more powerful then a bowl of jello

As of my run yesterday, that title about sums things up. I hate getting sick, I hate training some days, I hate missing the days I hate training because I am sick.

I forgot about this Sweetheart 8k Brad signed me up for. I love when I get these email updates about races I have registered for, that I haven't really registered for, but my husband thought I might like to do it with him. He's been training hard to have an amazing Ukrops 10K, the Sweetheart 8k is part of his running plan. I had been training, just hoping to shave a few minutes off of my 10k..but wouldn't you know my kids had other plans for me. We all got sick, so training came abruptly grinding to a halt for a week and a day for me. I did NOTHING, except take care of sick people, while trying to make myself feel better.

As we were getting ready for the Tri Club banquet on Saturday night, me still all hacky and miserable, Brad brings up the Sweetheart 8k. "You realize it's in a week right?" Uh, no, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I was concentrating on the tuberculosis/typhus like atmosphere in my house and didn't really think about my race schedule. I guess there's that darned Mom gene in me. It took every ounce of energy, plus all of my stage make-up knowledge to get me to look even part way presentable to walk out the door for the banquet. I have no superhuman makeup skills when it comes to my racing, no smoke and mirrors for that!

Geez, a Sweetheart 8k on Valentine's Day, imagine that! Who was the marketing genius who thought that one up?! So I drag myself out on Monday for a run. Yesterday, I told myself I had to do the 5 miles that race covered, regardless of time, and I did it, running the first 5k in a great time, then having to walk during one of my coughing sessions, running again, then walking every time I started to hack a lung up. It took me all of 53 minutes to do, so I guess I accomplished something.

Today, I am taking it easy. I am doing a nice, 30 recovery type run. I think I did a nice, easy 53 minute recovery run yesterday. Whatever, in the immortal words of my teenager. I did it right?

Tomorrow, I will run another 5, just to show myself I can make the distance again. There is absolutely no chance of coming close to any of the other runners. This is a RRRC event. It's not like you get a great cross section of people at one of their events. You get runners, most seem like they have been runners for a long time. Most who will be done with a measly 5 miles in 30 minutes, while the likes of me will be slogging along, trying to finish in under 50.

My running friend Tom said to me at the banquet, "But you're a fast runner!" Yeah, for short bursts, I can run like a Kenyan once around the track, but ask me to keep that pace up and I will be hurling on the side of the road. Is there a Sweetheart 400M to sign up for??

I need to remind myself though, that I haven't trained for this so well, I had 5 sick people to look after, me not included. And I can cover this distance, so there's something. Still, Saturday is looming and I feel all unready and unsure of myself, boo.

I wonder if there are any snails looking for a Sweetheart on Saturday?

When last we spoke...

When last we spoke, I was going to chat about my swim workout. It was a good one and I am pleased I can still swim distance. I actually was thinking I could train and get semi ready for the Half Ironman, more on that later.

Then it happened, my WHOLE FREAKING FAMILY GOT SICK, me included. It is this flu like ailment, not the flu though, the tests came back negative, besides we got the FluMist vaccine this year. So whatever it was got my 6 year old first, then my 17 year old then my 9 year old, then my husband, then me, then it went into bronchitis for my husband, 9 year old got a relapse, and I just have been marginally functional with this and now our 13 year old is finally sick. I'm not getting any worse now, but certainly not getting any better. Since that mile and a quarter swim, I have done NOTHING!! I worked out my last few workouts dragging myself through knowing something far more ominous was brewing and whatever it was was going to incapacitate me. I was getting clumsier, having trouble focusing my eyes, getting more forgetful then usual and fatigued like I ran back to back marathons with no sleep in between. I wasn't wrong, I read the warning signals properly, I got uber sick. Now I am sick and tired of being sick!

My husband actually made an appointment for himself at the Dr. You know he wasn't feeling well. Whenever he gets sick with a cold it goes right into his chest. Not to disappoint this time, it did go into his chest and he wound up with bronchitis. My nine year old started running a fever after she had started back to school and feeling better. She woke up yesterday morning finally, after two days more of being really sick and didn't have a fever. She said she felt better, and she looked it. My 6 year old still is a little congested, a little, but is bouncing off of the walls and full of energy, so I'd say she's almost perfect. Friday morning my 13 year old woke up all congested and complaining of an extremely sore throat, welcome to the ailment du jour!! She is still ghosty looking this morning. I should hang a sign on the door, QUARANTINE, this house is tainted I'm telling you!

Not to have all complaining in this blog, after all it is a training not a complaining blog, I am going to try and get on the trainer in the garage for just 1/2hour even in a little bit. I feel like blech, but I am not getting any better, or any worse sitting here, so I might as well do something. Nothing too strenuous, but something. I feel lazy, I think going to the Richmond Tri Club Banquet and being around all these insanely fit people is making me feel guilty! I feel squishy, and one of my running buddies last night, we sat at the same table, told me how much everyone missed me at the running clinics. I have to say, I miss them too!!

Which leads to me where I am now. I am officially announcing that I had to withdraw my entry to my first 1/2 Ironman Tri in San Diego this Spring. It wasn't a decision I made easily. I sat with Brad the other day and he just let me talk, don't know if he was truly listening, although he didn't get glassy eyed and slack jawed like he can when I get going. I threw out there all the reasons why I wanted to do it, and all the concerns I had regarding it, like my lack of training. I think the most important point I hit on, and one that was most resonant with me is I needed to be a mom to my family first. It is my most important job, more important then me completing my first long course race. I was sort of losing sight of that.

As I started listing all of the reasons, I kept focusing on was how was I going to fit in a 56 mile bike ride followed by a 13.1 mile run training session?? The swim part is easy. I get the kids off to school, go to the gym, and swim for an hour or so. I even throw in an hour of running and then it's time to play mom taxi. No problem, but it was the long bikes, coupled with long runs that I couldn't miraculously pull the time out of nowhere for. I tried, tried working out a schedule of sorts, but in the end it kept coming down to, where will I find the time, when will I carve out this ride and/or run??

Then I struck that chord, the one that really reverberated, like I said, I am a mom first. I need to be a mom first. So while I am wiping this nose, making tea for that sick one, getting ice pops at the store, all the while wishing I felt better too, I realize this is where I am needed most, where the payment for my efforts will be the most appreciated and rewarded.. The stress I was putting myself under trying to train for this super human feat of athleticism was something I didn't need. What difference does it make if I do a Half Iron this April, or in April a few years down the road when I don't have ones so little, that need me so much, or teens that, as much as they think I am stupid and are striving for independence, need me as much if not more then the younger two do?? There, I said it out loud, and phew did it feel good to stop the worrying. It also begs the question, am I less of an athlete if I focus on sprint and Olympic distance races instead of the longer course?? Of course not, I am out there training still, just not as long!

I kept asking my husband, did this mean I was a quitter? I try to set an example for my girls, to finish what you start. But I guess in the same breath, when I told them I wasn't doing this anymore, I showed them, that sometimes in life, no matter how badly you want something, you have to consider all things before you can make the right decision.

All things considered, and judging by my children's enjoyment of the waffles I made this morning instead of being out on a long ride today, I think they agree with me....