Getting close now....

So in a few short days, the thing I've been working towards for the past year will be here. Am I ready? At this point, it's kind of a moot point, as I will be toeing the start line come Sunday morning regardless.
I know it will be hot.
I know it will be long.
I know it will hurt.
I know that there will be times when I am not enjoying myself.
I know that there will come a point at which I would like to stop.
But I will not stop.
I will keep swimming, I will keep pedaling, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other until I reach the finish line. And if something happens and I don't finish, I will know that I have given it my all.
I am going into this race knowing that I have the full support of an incredible number of people, and for this, I thank you, and come Sunday, I hope not just to become an Ironman, but to make you proud.

Tomorrow morning

7:45am, Fox in the Morning. Me.

Something only I could do

I managed to pull something in my neck while getting river water out of my ear after an open water swim this morning.

And now, a little vitriol...

When the UK/UofL game got moved to the same day as IM Lou, it didn't bother me too much (tho, UK is being a big bunch of pussies, oh poor babies, you'll miss out on a rest day), but the closer it gets, I'm starting to get pissed.

Not at the game, per say (but I still bet some drunk redneck will get arrested when he gets mad about traffic and ends up on the race course), but at the people who had been planning to come down to the race and cheer, or better yet, volunteer, but have now decided that watching a football game on tv is more important.

Christ, people, there is a major sporting event happening in your hometown that actually has at least one person you know personally competing in it! Show some freaking support!

Told you I was cranky.

My swim workout.

I didn't want to do my swim workout.
I didn't feel at all like doing my swim workout.
I was going to skip my swim workout.
Bu then I sat down to watch the Olympics, and felt like a wuss.
So I went to the pool.
And completely rocked my swim workout.

Sleep

As the race gets closer (eek!), I've been making an attempt to go to bed earlier. While I am sleeping more, I still tend to wake up six or eight times a night, and am having really bizarre dreams...

I had a dream the other night that I was on the US Olympic swim team as a back up. Not an alternate, but a back up, as in, I could have stepped in and swum for anyone, men included. The whole team roomed together in a barracks style room, and we each had a twin bed, but Michael Phelps was too tall for his, so he was not comfortable. (on a side note, Michael Phelps is magic. And ripped. I kinda want to climb him like a tree)

Last night I had a dream that someone rang my doorbell at midnight, so I hid, then it rang again at 6am, so I got my gun (which in real life, I do not have), took the safety off (which I wouldn't know how to do), and answered the door. It was my co-worker and her husband, and I tried to explain why I pulled a gun on them, as they were not the same people who rang the bell at midnight.

I fully expect the dreams just to keep getting more surreal - aliens, maybe?

Things that happened today

- I rode my first century!

- I drank a V-8 on my ride, and it was delicious (thanks for the tip, Debi!)

- A passenger in a dark blue SVU (license plate 158 GVD) was not happy to share the rode and lobbed an open beer out the window at me

- I threw up on myself (I burped, and the last swig of water came up. It was weird)

Muncie.

Ah, Muncie, for such a small town, you put on a helluva race.

Having taken the day before the race off from work, I slept in, packed, showered, packed for Ben, and then waited for Ben to get home from work. Once he did, we managed to somehow fit both bikes in the back of the Prius, dismantling them both pretty much completely. We just barely had room for our bags and ourselves.

The drive up was pretty uneventful, and we missed the 6pm pre-race meeting by mere minutes, so we got our body markings (permanent marker, which didn't fare well against hotel sheets or the bend in our elbows) and farted around the expo (Ben got a tri shirt, I got some Gu Roctane) before heading over to the hotel to check in. After the pre-race meeting at 8pm, we drove out to the race site, took some pictures, and then made a beeline for IHOP to carbo load. I had chocolate chip pancakes, and they were fantastic.

Since we were getting up well before dawn, we went to sleep pretty much right away, and I luckily did not suffer from Ben's "racemares," though I did have a weird dream about the actual Ironman race. However, I was awakened at 4:32 am by my cell phone ringing. Debi's car wouldn't start. Crap. Unfortunately, with our bikes in the back, we couldn't really help her, so we hit the breakfast bar while she got in touch with her coach. I had a bagel with cream cheese while Ben opted for, get this, sausage, biscuits, and gravy. Before a race. Ew. I would have hurled, but hey, it wasn't my call.

When we got to the race site, it was announced that a storm was moving in more quickly than anticipated, so the swim waves were starting earlier. Fine with me, less time to freak out. At 7:16 am, my wave took to the lake, and the free for all began. I managed to only take a few blows about the head and face, and then settled into my groove. I did well on the swim, except that I swung out too far to the left on the last leg and had to cut back in towards shore against some really choppy water. As I stood up on the beach, I noticed that it had started to rain, but really, what did it matter? I was soaked with smelly lake water, and was going to go sweat for the next several hours. I make it up to T1, and the rain starts coming down harder, and I can hear rumblings of thunder. I managed to get my shirt on (hard to do, since the shirt is tight, and my skin was wet), shoes and helmet fastened, gloves on, and bike un-racked, and headed out to the road. As I was clipping into my pedals, there is a HUGE bolt of lightning and crash of thunder. I briefly think, Huh, Ben's probably still in the water. That can't be good. However, as the bike section went almost immediately downhill and I was already rolling, I had to concentrate. (swim time 33:55, T1 3:17)

 

(Amy Engel, Cheryl Donohoe, and myself, pre-swim)

 

Though it rained for the first 50 miles of the bike (it let up for miles 50-53) and the last 3, the bike course was really nice. The rain was coming down so hard at times that it hurt, but the roads were flat, smooth, and most importantly, car free. They actually close down a major US highway (US35) for the race. It was so nice not to have to worry about some jackhole zooming past really closely because he's pissed about all the bikes on the road.  However, we had been warned that the last 6 miles of the race were pretty rough. No potholes, but a lot of cracks (they had been sealed) and just really uneven. Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, KA-THUNK. I did manage to keep an 18.7 mph on this course, a personal best. (Bike time 2:59:24, T2, 4minutes even)

 

Whereas the bike course was flat, the run course was hilly. Luckily, I like hills on a run. The rain let off somewhere between miles 1 and 2, which was about the same time I got my legs back under me. I just concentrated on getting to the aid stop, and walked when I needed to. Just before mile 3, I see this guy coming towards me (it was on out and back course) who was apparently racing in a pair of nut huggers, because I swear, I thought he was naked (he was wearing a race belt with his number on it. and it was covering his bit). I had to ask the guy next to me, w ho had thought the same thing, but as the "naked" guy passed, we could see his suit, which was almost the same color as his skin. Weird.

The aid stops were awesome - there were so many volunteers. Kids, Mormons, men wearing parrot hats; they were all so very nice. I think I freaked a 13 year old out when I told him that I loved him when he handed me a cup of Coke.

By the time I got close to the finish, it was getting pretty warm, and I was ready to be done. Now, I must admit, I do not agree with whomever thought it was a good idea to have the finishing chute at the top of a hill. That's just mean. As I crested the top, I saw Ben and he started screaming for me to go, go, go! Now, he always cheers for me, but this was different - he seemed really excited about something. Turns out he checked the clock and realized that I had a shot to make it under 6 hours, which I did, just barely. (Run time 2:18:38, race time 5:59:45)

I was 10th in my age group in the swim (out of 20), and 11th on the bike (I think, I can't remember), and 13th or 14th on the run, and 10th in my age group overall, though 3 did not finish the race. All in all, a good day.

 

In my own defense....

This week was the week I've been dreading since I reviewed the whole training program. I had the "Four Days of Forty," meaning I rode 40 miles a day, Monday through Thursday, plus another workout of some sort daily. So, that's why my Muncie report isn't up yet, but it is coming.

It's not you, it's me.

I'm just going to go ahead and say it now: I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. But, I still just went completely off on you. It's not you. It's not you at all. It is so completely, totally me.

The training, the hunger, the lack of enough sleep, the nerves - they've all just been building and building, and I've become a little testy. Okay, a lot testy. The race is finally close enough that it seems real, and I'm getting just a tad (ha!) nervous. Why else would I have a little meltdown while on a bike ride with Ben? Ben, who doesn't have to park his rear on a saddle for 5 hours at a stretch, who can crank it out while my legs feel like lead because I had a run earlier this afternoon, who just wants to ride fast because he can - Ben is the one who was on the receiving end of my little tirade of all-I-wanted-to-do-was-have-a-nice-ride-with- you-and-why- does- it-always-have-to-be-a-race-sometimes-I'm-supposed- to-be-doing-a-recovery-ride- why- won't-you-just-slow-the-f*ck- down-once-and-awhile?!?!?

So, if I haven't gone off the deep end with you yet, just wait. You'll have your turn. And if you have, once again, I'm sorry. It's probably safe to assume that at any given time, I am at least two of the following: tired, cranky, sore, hunger, nervous. Approach me as you would a dog you don't know: hope I'm friendly and will wag my tail, but realize that I may very well bite.

Oh, and to my co-workers: I'm sorry if I've stolen your food. I ate someone's Cheerios today because it was either that, or eat one of you.

Getting to know myself.

As the training hours get longer and longer, and I spend more time biking and swimming without music, I've been getting to know myself pretty well. When I run, I usually have my ipod with me (except in races; I tend to do those music-free). But, that's just not feasible when I'm on the bike or in the water. And even with the headphones on, I'm still by myself.

That means I spend a lot of time alone. Inside my own head. Which, while it can be a wonderful, sparkly magic place, it can also be a terrifyingly dark, twisted place. A place where I fantasize about food and dry socks and taking a nap and petting the cats. Or, on occasion, killing Debi for talking me into all this. Or setting fire to my saddle so it knows the pain my hoo-ha is feeling. Or just sitting down on the side of the road and crying because all I want to do is stop.

It's not that I'm hating every minute of this. That's not even close to true. I am enjoying myself. I've gotten used to pretty much not having a life outside of my job and workouts. But sometimes - just sometimes, no particular time, no particular reason - I just want this all to be over. I just want to be able to get up on a Saturday morning, have a cup of coffee, and go for a run only if I feel like it. To go for a bike ride just for the hell of it. To lie on the side of the pool and not do laps. To come home from work, eat dinner, and just talk to my husband.

I don't want to come across as whiny. I know I got myself in to this. And really, I have it pretty good. My husband is unbelievably supportive, as is my work. My boss goes running with me usually at least once a week during lunch. I have no children to take care of. I can't even imagine trying to do this with kids. As it is, I can pretty much work my life around my workouts without having to give up too much, and at this point, it's finally starting to seem real.

Oh, and on a completely different note, I placed 2nd in my age group at the Physical Therapy Plus Olympic distance Triathlon last month.  (Once again, that seems much more impressive if you don't know there were only 3 people in my age group) No pictures as my trusty photographer was in Pennsylvania at the time.

More random crap

- Since I've stopped dyeing my  hair (with all the swimming, what's the point?), I now realize that I have a lot more grey hairs than I thought.

- There have been times when I have stopped eating not because I was no longer hungry, but because I have run out of food.

- While I may wake up in the middle of the night because I am hungry, I refuse to get out of bed to eat.

- I am living in a constant state of dehydration, or so my urine would have me believe. That, and one beer makes me stupid.

- My feet are even uglier than previously thought.

- I go through a can of (spray) sunscreen in a week. And my tan lines are getting even more interesting.

- I can't seem to get the chlorine out of my hair, though the L'oreal kids' shampoo helps.

- I have decided that my arm hair has to go.

- While I own several name brand swimsuits (Nike, Speedo, TYR, Finis), my favorite practice suit cost $6.48 on clearance at Target.

- I have new googles that are supposed to help me keep my head down while I swim.

- My new saddle rocks.

Taylorsville Lake Half-Ironman Distance Tri

Let me honest from the start: while I was 3rd in my age group (30-34, USAT rules that you race as the age you are on Dec 31 of the current year) there were only 4 people in it. I sounds more impressive when I leave the last part off, doesn't it?

But, I was 7th woman out of the water, 1st woman swimmer in my age group. This was even after I had a complete freak out in the water. I knew that open water swimming was different, but as I went to pass someone, I took a wave to the face and panicked.  The water was pretty cold, and I couldn't bring myself to put my face back in. I had to flip over onto my back and just kick for a bit. I was able to flip back over, but it happened again, and this time I really thought I was going to have to stop the race. I even undid my wetsuit a few inches to get the pressure off my neck.

Rationally, I knew I wasn't going to drown. I used to be a lifeguard, I know how to swim, and I don't think I could have sunk if I tried, what, with wearing the rubber suit and all. But my brain was not up for reason. I manage to zip back up, flip back over, and start doing heads-up freestyle. I slowly worked my chin down into the water, then the rest of my face, and by the end of the first lap, I was swimming more or less normally, tho I only breathed to the right. It seems that my upper body is rather strong, because I started to pass a lot of people, and by the end of the swim, I didn't want to get out.

After I managed to escape from my wetsuit and pull my bike jersey on, I sprayed myself with sunblock (apparently not to well, tho, my tan lines are interesting) and got going on the bike. Being one of the early people out of the water makes for interesting times on the bike. I am not a fast cyclist, but I was out on the course with the fast people, at least for a little while, so that was cool. I did lose my yellow sponge thingy from my aerobottle, so I had to drink my Nuun pretty quickly, as it was splashing all over me, but at least I was drinking.

The bike course was hilly. Actually, that's an understatement. It was just all hills. And, as I don't climb well, there was one hill where I looked down at my computer and it said I was going 3mph. It probably would have been faster to walk, but I was afraid that if I got off my bike, I wouldn't get back on. And at about mile 47 or so, I got to climb up 2 monster   grades that made me glad I still have 3 chain rings. And since the wind didn't stop - it was in my face the whole damn time - it was even more fun. At one point, Ben caught up with me on the course (when he took the above picture) and asked how I felt. The only thing I could think to say was: "My crotch hurts."

The run was an out and back that was repeated 3 times, and it was not flat. And, of course, the wind was getting even stronger. Yay! I more or less walked the uphills and ran (or shuffled, however you want to look at it) the rest. I lost my hat on the third loop, but decided it was not worth the effort to chase it, and I finished in 6:46.

All in all, I'm really glad I did this race. Even though I spent the two days ahead of time just freaking the hell out over it (at one point, while setting up my transition area, I looked at Ben and said "I don't want to do this"), once the race started, I was okay. I have on Olympic distance race in a few weeks, the Muncie Endurathon in July, and maybe a sprint in early August just for the hell of it. And then, of course, IM Lou, but that goes without saying.

A few random observations.

- Running during lunch makes for interesting afternoon hair.

- I can be too tired to eat.

- I now understand what it means to "sleep hard."

- Way too many people like to swim before dawn. (Last week, I got to Mary T and signed in at 5:05 AM and I was the 15th person on the list. 15th! And that didn't even include the swim teams.)

- I will put peanut butter on anything.

- And on a related note, if you were to cut me open, I'm probably at least half peanut butter.

- The dark circles around my eyes are partly from lack of sleep, partly from smeared mascara, and partly from my goggles.

- It is possible for my boobs to get even smaller.

- Sometimes 4:40 AM just doesn't happen.

It's nice to be fast(ish) at something.

I will never claim to be a fast runner. Nor will I claim to be a fast cyclist. But, I will admit to being a (somewhat) fast swimmer. Not masters team, former collegiate (hi, Jennifer!) swimmer fast, but non-professional triathlete swimmer fast.

When I picked up swimming after the most recent hiatus, my 100 meter time was hanging out just a hair under 2 minutes. Last night, I had 10x100 meters on 15 seconds rest. I went out a little gung-ho and did the first in 1:35 (and I don't do flip turns. Flip turns and I have issues.). I realized that I probably wouldn't be able to keep that up, so I relaxed a little, but still managed to hit 1:40 on all the rest, give or take a second.

Now, I'm not a pretty swimmer. My limbs are stumpy (hell, my body is stumpy), and my kick is all but useless. But in the water, I can move. And the past few months, I've even started breathing on both sides, something I haven't done since I was nine. (Note: this was about the same time that I developed chronic ear infections, especially in my left ear. So, that ear and I made a deal - if I agreed not to turn that ear up towards the ceiling, it would agree not to cause my horrible, horrible pain. I considered it a fair trade. Now I wear earplugs.)

I must admit, it feels good to be fast at something. I will never be a super fast runner - I just don't have the drive to run that fast all the time. And on the bike, well, let's just say it's getting better, but I still have a long way to go. But put ae in the water, and well, I'll try not to kick you as I pass.

I don't like Heart Rate training, i.e. I am really freakin' slow

Today I had a workout where after a nice little warm up, I was to run 3 miles with my heart rate staying between 147 and 153. Since my heart rate got there during the warm up, I decided to bump it up ten beats.

It didn't seem to help much.

This was the first workout that I *wanted* to run faster, harder - anything but the exaggerated slow slog I was doing. My pace was somewhere around a shameful 10:45 minute mile. Now, I'm by no means a speed demon, but I can always run a 10 minute mile, even while sick/in pain/recovering from food poisoning. Case in point: I decided that I wanted to run 10 minute miles in the Mini, and my overall pace was 9:59 (makes me wonder if I had picked say, 9:45s, would I have done it?), and I was not pushing it, even in Iroquois Park.

I understand that I need to do this type of training. I shouldn't go out and run every training run fast(er) just because I can - but today just seemed to go on forever. I did, however, wonder why the workout was allotted 60 minutes to warm up and run 3 miles. Are there people out there slower than this turtle?

This whole training for endurance thing is just taking some time to get used to. A few years ago, a 2hr (or once, just slightly under 2 hr) half-marathon was the norm. But, that was before I ever ran a full marathon. (I was also 6 pounds lighter, which I'm sure had something to do with it, too.) Since my runs were somewhere between 4 and 12 miles, I could run faster all the time. Once the runs started lasting what seemed like the whole damn morning, I had to slow down. My stumpy legs just can't keep going like that. I'm 5'3" with most of my height coming from my torso. I was not built for speed over long distances. My mother keeps telling me that I was not meant to be a runner. And she's probably right. At my first tri a few years ago, I looked around and exclaimed to my husband: "I've found my people! They look like me!" He laughed, but conceded that I had a point - while there were a few sticks, the majority of the athletes looked like they would be useful if you needed help moving something. It was just nice to be around people weighed more than one of my legs.

My people, before the Louisville Landsharks Tri 2005.

And this was even after I did a swim and a run

Random guy at the gym, as he passed by me doing a chest press: "I like the way you work out. You work out hard."

To the jackhole driving the gold Toyota Highlander...

...who thought it would be funny to gun his engine, and then pass me on my bike with oh, maybe 4 inches to spare: I hope it made you feel like a big man.

Just be aware that next time, I think I'll borrow one of my buddy Howard's moves and slam my fist into the side of your car.

I have a plan.

Literally. I plunked down the money for a silver membership to Beginner Triathlete, and uploaded a plan into my online training log. I was going to use the Beginner Ironman plan, but based on what I've already been doing, I decided to go with the 20 week Intermediate Ironman plan. I in no way believe that I am an intermediate, let me put that straight right away. But the beginner plan seemed a might bit overcautious.

From the get go, the swims in my plan are a lot more. Earlier in the week a had a 3000, and the pool I swim at (UofL) had switched to long course for the day, so it was a bit tough (mainly because the middle 2000 were drills, one of which involved me swimming with my hands in fists. Not fun.). I had an 1800 yesterday, but then today was a 4000 (the pool was back to short course). That is farther than I have ever swum in one go. Ever. In my whole life. Yes, I was on a swim team, but it was summer league, not high school or college or anything like that. And mind you that it was not my first or only workout today.

And as an aside, just let me say that biking on flat roads is glorious. Ben and I rode River Road from downtown to Hays Kennedy Park in Prospect, and for us, we were flying. At least there, anyway. The return trip was all pretty much into a headwind, but I did use my aerobars a lot for the first time, and wasn't completely scared by it. Woo hoo! (isn't it cute how the little things excite me so?)

Why I need my running group

Since I can only run so far with only myself as company, I've been doing my long runs with my buddies at Fleet Feet. Last weekend, we ran 12 miles, wandering around Algonquin Park and back by the zoo. Though I finished, I spent the majority of the run wanting - nay, hoping - that I would puke. The previous night's dinner (babah ganoush, fatoush, and falafel from this awesome, cheap joint around the corner) kept coming back to visit. I've eaten this same combination many times before (and several times the night before a run), but this time, it did not like me. Needless to say, I was praying that this week's run would go better.

And for me, at least, it did. For poor Kara (Howard's daughter), it did not. Our merry group set off (this time to cut through the park and then meander down Frankfort Ave), but by the time we got to the first mile, something cramped up in Kara's side and would not let go. She dropped back, and rejoined us at a water fountain a mile and a half or so later. Ben was keeping pace with Donna and Harry, and Howard had a girl named Sara to talk to, so I decided to drop back with Kara.

It took about 8 miles for whatever was bugging Kara to finally go away, and by then, even though we had talked about cutting the run short (to about 10 instead of 12), we were so far out it was at least 4 miles back to the store. We had a system going - any time we saw a red light ahead, we'd go ahead and walk, since we'd have to stop and wait once we got there anyway. We'd take a little longer to start running after each time our gang regrouped to map out the next section of the run. We'd stop to look at houses for sale (Ben and I are going to be putting our house on the market soon). Any reason we could find for a 15 second walk break, we took it (see what you missed, Debi?). It was glorious. At first, Kara encouraged me to go on, keep running, she'd catch up. She didn't seem to understand - Walk? Oh, no. Don't make me walk. I *hate* walking - but quickly caught on. We then spent the rest of the run looking at clothes in store windows as we ran by, standing up taller when male runners passed, and in general being catty because we could be.

So even though it was cold and windy, I was tired, and Kara was in pain, we still managed to have a good run. And we even got our 12 miles in.

Tired.

Though you can't really tell, I was sweating like one of those people from a Gatorade commercial. Except that my sweat wasn't blue.

*Taken after a 2800 swim followed by an hour and a half on the damned trainer.

** Are my eyes not facing the same direction?

*** Kinda looks like a myspace 'angles' shot, doesn't it?

Look or SPD?

I'm asking for opinions: do you prefer Look of SPD? Right now, I'm wearing a pair of Lake road shoes that are SPD. When it gets warmer, I'm going to switch to a pair of Sidi tri shoes, and was considering switching over to Look pedals. Is there any advantage? I'm quite pleased with the SPDs, and I tend to stick with whatever I use the first time (case in point: I'm still riding with the same saddle that came with my bike), but I have a pair of Look pedals and was curious.

Maple Syrup and a Meth Lab

 

This past Sunday, I rode my 3rd group ride. It was the first of the Mad Dog Century rides, but since I am most definitely not ready for that, I decided to just ride the first half (56 miles). The weather was great (save for a few brief rainy bits), I managed to actually hang with the group, and there was the promise of pancakes at the end, as my ride ended at the Annual Maple Syrup Festival.

The ride started in Jeffersonville, Indiana, and wound around up to Salem.  A fun fact about Indiana: instead of salt, it uses cinders on the roads in inclement weather. This led to numerous flats throughout the day, myself included. I was about 5 miles from my finish, going up the biggest hill on the route (Leota Road), and while I'm not great on hills, I was having waaay too hard of time. I'm just chugging along, and then I realize that something doesn't sound quite right. The past half hour or so, I had been flagging, and then I realized why: my back tire was flat.  I get off, walk the bike for awhile to find a good place to change the tire (not only is this hill long, it's really curvy, and I was afraid of being taken out by a car), then try to change it. Yes, I said try. I have carpal tunnel, and any prolonged time on the bike makes my thumbs kinda useless, so I just couldn't get the damn tire off to get to the tube. Eventually, I just gave up, used a CO2 cartridge to fill it, and hoped that since I was so close to the finish, I could make it.

Not so much.

I did manage to make it to the top of the hill and down the road a bit, but all the air was gone. I pulled off into someone's drive, since the right side of the road went into a ditch. Murphy tools up next to me, and goes about changing my tire for me, because he is nice like that. Steve then circled back for me, knowing I had had tire trouble since he passed me on the hill. With the change almost done, this old guy and his buddy come out of their mobile home and make a beeline for us.

"Ya'll know whose land you be on?" (cue the banjo music from Deliverance)

"No, sir."

"Well, this here is MY land!"

"We're just helping this young lady change her tire."

"Well,  I don't care what ya'll think yer doin.' You're on my land!"

Technically, we were probably on the easement, but I was not about to point this out.

"We can move across the road if you'd like."

"I don't care where you move to. What makes you people think you can just come onto other people's land...."

Cleatus and his buddy give us the stink eye as we move our bikes into the ditch on the other side of the road, all the while cursing us, and possibly our mothers. Murphy and Steve get my wheel back on, and we take off, but right before we start pedaling, Steve goes,

"Whatcha wanna bet he had a meth lab?"

 

Note:  I want to thank my husband Ben for more or less giving up his Sunday for me. He got up early in order to drop me and my bike off at the start point before 8am, then drove almost an hour to meet me the the festival, to which I arrived almost an hour later than I said I would, and then took my bike to the car for me so I wouldn't have to walk through a field in my bike cleats. He was rewarded with pancakes.

Bleh.

Since I'm pretty convinced I have a cold (that, or I like to swab my nose with zinc for fun) and the weather has taken to sending ice from the sky, I'm stuck inside tonight. I was supposed to have a swim workout,  but was going to do my long run instead since we got sent home early from work, and running on ice with my weird strap on spike thingies is fun to me (and I was pretty sure the Hikes Point Rapist would be staying inside out of the weather). But, alas, my sore throat that I thought was from post-nasal drip from getting water up my nose yesterday morning was actually just a sign of my impending cold.

 

Tomorrow morning, I've got the longest trainer workout (2.5 hours! I will have no feeling in my nether regions!) followed by a short, short little run. I plan on watching last year's Kona race that I recorded the other day. I know, such grand plans, you must be jealous.

If you look closely, you can almost see straight down the front of my shirt in the first one. And don't I look stylish? (these were taken while I did my previous-longest trainer ride of 2 hours) These don't really do justice to the way I sweat.

Why I should always wear socks when I run

 

 

 

I knew better, but it was nice out, and I wanted to run during lunch, and I couldn't find my socks.

Gross, I know. This was at least a month ago, but I still have marks on my feet. They just add to sheer fugliness of my feet, and go well with my monkey toes.

60 miles is farther than I realized.

Yesterday, I completed my longest bike ride to date - 60 miles. It was a group ride with the Louisville Bicycle Club that left from Hogan's Fountain in Cherokee Park, wandered over to River Road, into Indiana (Jeffersonville, Sellersburg, Clarksville, and who knows where else), and then back to downtown Louisville. It was considered  "fixie-friendly" ride, so my reasoning was if a fixed gear bike could do it, so could I.

After the group start, I quickly ended up in the back with the ride captain David, who was sweeping the ride. I noticed that my front brake kept rubbing, which didn't help things. The wind seemed to be everywhere, no matter which direction we were going, but I just kept pedaling. We lost sight of the pack on River Road, but I decided not to think about that. I needed to concentrate on just getting used to being on my bike for so long.

We made it to Indiana, where we crossed railroad track after railroad track. I also got to pass my sister's old house, which used to take me about 30 minutes by car to get to. A pickup truck with some dogs in the bed scared the bejeezus out of me while going up a hill, passing really close. David also commented that I didn't shift much, instead choosing to power up the hills in whatever gear I happed to be in (apparently, this is somewhat common in runners, as we usually have pretty good quad strength). I then made a concerted effort to switch gears more.

There was a store stop at mile 30, where we caught back up to the group. I told Debi that my front brake was giving me issues, and her buddy Brian (who works at Cycler's Cafe, and has told Debi that while he is out riding, he doesn't act as a bike mechanic) whipped out a tool and tightened it for me before I could even figure out what was wrong. Thank you, Brian! This was also when I realized that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything on the ride yet. Whoops.

I managed not to be last for the next 15 or so miles - I was next-to last! I also remembered that I have 3 chain rings, and started to use the small one on hills. Between that and my brake not rubbing, the ride went much better. At mile 46, the ride captain stopped for lunch with a bunch of other riders, and I continued on with Don, who got me back to the bridge.

Ah, the bridge. By this point, the winds had really picked up, and were blowing sideways. There are also these scary joiner-things on the bridge, and it's generally best to hit them at an angle. As I was going over the first of 3, the wind blew me several feet to the side, straight towards a car. I had my handlebars in a death grip. I was having way too much trouble keeping my bike under control. I dismounted, and made the decision to walk my bike across the bridge (I ended up on the sidewalk, pedaling, but not clipped in, kind of a pedal/coast, pedal/coast sort of thing). Later, Debi told me that she also walked her bike over the bridge, so I wasn't the only dork.

After the bridge, I followed the queue sheet back to the park, and decided it was cruel for the end to be at the top of a big hill.  But, I finished, which I honestly can say I had doubts about. The night before I was pretty freakin' nervous. But, I just kept going, and quit caring that I was slow (4.5ish hours for the ride), and now I know I can go at least that far, so I should be able to survive a half-distance tri by the time mine roll around.

Welcome to Rape Alley.

Being winter and all, I'm kinda stuck doing most, if not all, of my training indoors. There's no possible way to swim outside, and since it's dark before and after I get home from work, I've been relegated to using my bike trainer (in fact, I have and hour and a half before work tomorrow. Yay, me!). Now, I know you're thinking, well, she can at least RUN outside. And normally, I would agree with you.

One thing I get great pleasure from is running outside before work. In order for me to do this, I have to be home by 6:45 am in order to get cleaned up, eat breakfast, and get to the bus stop on time. As I am one of those annoying people that can go from sound asleep to wide awake in 2.6 seconds, I used to do this a lot. I even managed to get some 9 milers in while training for my first marathon this way.

Now, it seems, those days are gone. Why? Because I apparently now live in Rape Alley.

One morning in December, a woman out exercising about 6am was attacked, dragged into a back yard, and raped. Shortly thereafter, a woman was followed into her house and raped. There have been numerous break-ins, and an attempted abduction of a 14 year old girl on her way to school. The freak responsible for this wears a hoodie and has a weird high-pitched voice, according to the media. And just last night, the freak was seen peeping into a bedroom window, but split when the lady called the cops (this would explain the ghetto-birds I heard circling last night). All this has happened within 2 miles from my house, on roads that are part of my running routes.

So, in a nutshell, I don't venture out into my neighborhood by myself. I've even stopped walking up to the bus stop, having enlisted Ben to drop me off there every morning. I keep the drapes shut at my house. And if I want to go run, Ben has to go with me(and yes, on the weekends, we go run at the park or wherever).

It just really pisses me off. I hate to feel scared like this. I just want to be able to go outside of my house (hell, he's getting braver and trying to get people in their houses) and not be afraid that someone wants to hurt me. I know it's just a matter of time before he's caught (the police are taking this very seriously, they have officers and dogs and cars and helicopters all around), but it can't coome soon enough.

I hate Coach Troy.

It's nothing personal. I just don't like him. It won't stop me from doing the Spinervals DVDs, though. I'll just mutter under my breath the whole time.

Food Porn

I have a question: am I completely weird for just totally loving the Food Network? I mean, it's like my own weird version of porn. I watch it all the time. And it's not like I ever plan on trying to make half the stuff I see, but I am completely fascinated by it (especially Good Eats. Alton Brown is too cool). I will watch people make cakes that look like dead presidents. I will watch Mark Summers try not to touch the food on Unwrapped. I will even watch Rachael Ray make 30 minute meals (tho her constant running commentary makes me twitch a little).

I even watch my food porn at the gym.

On the plus side, it's gotten Ben and me more interested in making more of our own food. We're not necessarily saving money this way, but it does allow me to control what's in the food that I shove into my pie-hole. We've made several soups, some interesting (and rather tasty) squash dishes, and recently, a lamb curry. We've started making our own bread, tho I found that breads made out of only whole wheat flour can be rather...dense.


So, I have to wonder, am I alone with the food porn, or do I share this obsession with others?

A gratuitous picture of me and my cat.

Me and Mr. Cheese (Senor Gatito con Queso de la Torta Imaculada) artfully crafting another blog post!

Happy New Year, I can't feel my teeth.

As I was sitting comfortably in my warm house New Year's Eve, my phone rings. It was Debi.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

And then I knew she was going to ask me to run the Hangover Classic.

I've run the race - a 10 miler along the Ohio River - twice before (2005 and 2006). I didn't run it last year, and rather enjoyed not having to worry about what time I went to bed. I don't like the course. It starts at 10am, so I don't get home until early afternoon. And the T-shirt usually sucks (it always has a mock turtleneck).

Alas, as my enabler, she got me to agree to meet her at Louisville Turners the next morning a little after 8am to register (she wanted to make sure she got an ugly shirt, since late registers weren't guaranteed one), but as my plans for the rainy, windy evening involved Steak-N-Shake and Dick Clark, I figured what the hell. That, and I made her promise to run with me for the whole race, which never happens normally.

Waking the next morning, it was cold. Like 18 degrees cold, not to mention gusting winds. I dressed, ate, and headed out, sending Debi a text message: It's cold and early and I kind of hate you right now.

After registering (and as a plus, the shirt actually didn't suck - black, long sleeves, and a crew neck), we then got to wait around inside for 75 minutes, where we already started to get cold. Once we finally started running, it didn't get any better. The first half of the race was into the wind, and I quickly lost feeling in my legs, toes, and lower lip, making it hard to talk. Then my teeth froze.

It's happened before, on training runs and a race or two, as I breathe from both my mouth and nose. It is such a bizarre feeling. Between that and my lip, I was pretty much unintelligible. We hit the aid stops at miles 3 and 6, and then started the nasty 3 miles back down River Road (which is concrete, making it even more fun) to Turners. I had started drafting behind Debi miles ago, but now she decided that we were going to pass people to keep things interesting. I didn't need interesting. I needed a heater.

On a plus side, we DID pass several people, and played leap-frog with one runner. Finally, with a half-mile to go, I yelled at Debi to go on, as she really, really wanted to pass this one guy that I knew I couldn't catch. We finished (several minutes slower than a few years ago, but at this point, I really didn't care), and had to fill out a little card with our name and time. Did they not realize that it was in the teens and that fine motor control was not possible? I got mine done, my handwriting looking like a serial killer's, and then headed inside for coffee. I was so cold, I was willing to set Debi on fire for warmth.

We hung out for a little while, then had to go BACK OUTSIDE to our cars a few blocks away. And we thought we were cold before. I now understand Debi's love for sweatpants and ass-ugly Ugg boots. I have since bought a pair of really big fleecy sweatpants, and am going to buy a generic pair of the boots. I think they'll be nice to put on after my soon to come 5am swims.

So, tho I bitched, I did enjoy myself. And it was a helluva way to kick off the new year.