Benevolent Bitch

Triathlon is like a benevolent but ruthless goddess - she turns you into more than you ever thought you'd be, but she isn't above regularly kicking your ass to keep you humble. Today, the goddess and I did a little dance.

The Swim

The swim was . . . OK. I feel like I've lost some ground since I got sick and since I've been working on the form adjustments Major Payne (credit to Bolder for the monicker) gave me. However, I also feel like I'm gaining it back. I was able to get in a mile total with a few rest stops intermingled. It was fine. Nothing stellar. The frustrating thing about Saturday morning swims is the limited time available. The gym opens at 7:00 am - and the pool usually doesn't open until 5 or 10 minutes after that - and the lap swimmers have to make way for the water aerobics class at 7:50. So you have about 40, maybe 45 minutes to get a good swim in. But, it is what it is and I'm not too unhappy about the way it went down this morning.

The Bike


Ah, yes . . . the bike. Pyro is the Lady Triathlon's favorite instrument for teaching me humility. At the start of my ride, I decided to experiment with unclipping my right foot to stop rather than my left - for some reason this pedal is much easier to unclip from, though the bike guy said he set both to the lightest resistance - that so didn't work. I'm not sure why, but when I stopped, I immediately tipped over to my left and reskinned my knee. Pretty.

After my spill, I picked myself up, got it together and took off. The very best news about my ride is that I had fun. The trail is flat and there are no cars to worry about except for the places where it crosses streets and those all have traffic lights.

I was able to keep the speed at about 15mph without a lot of effort and still felt like I had control. Once, I opened it up and got up to about 18mph before I decided that it was too scary. Still, though that took more effort, I felt like I had plenty of juice to go faster, just not enough guts. So thats cool.

Then, there was a near wipe out. It went like this: I was getting thirsty. So I reached for my water bottle. I'd done this successfully twice on my ride, so I was starting to believe that I could do it. Wrong. I think that I was thinking too much. I slowed down too much. I couldn't get the bottle back in the cage. I freaked out. I started swirving all over and started to travel in the direction of the ground - rubber side was threatening to go up. Thankfully, my right foot was instantly free of the pedals and on the ground, desparately trying to stop my forward/sideways trajectory. Then, a miracle occurred. I remembered that Pyro came equipped with brakes. Two of them, to be exact. One for the front, and one for the back. Miraculous. I used them. I stopped. I didn't cry. I did however sustain an injury. When my foot went down in a desparate attempt to brake "Flinstone Style", I came down pretty hard on the top tube (I don't even know if that's the right terminology, but you get the idea). If I was a guy, I wouldv'e racked myself. I've never been more thankful to be female. I did however inflict a nasty bruise in the upper thigh area, dangerously close to my tender parts. Ouch. The bike seat managed to put much unwelcome pressure on my new owey. Double Ouch. I made the executive decision to cut my ride to one lap (16miles) rather than the two I had planned (or really hoped for, I know better than to "plan" when it comes to a bike ride. I plan to start. That's the best I can do). I made it back to my car, probably making more of the discomfort than I needed to - but damn that pride hurt. There's that bitch Humility again. Bite me, humility.

The Run

Since my bike was cut short, I decided to go for a bit more of a run than planned. 5k to be exact. And this run was my moment of glory for the day. The run was Lady Triathlon's way of building me back up before I had to go back out into the "real world". The morning had warmed to a glorious sunny 60 degrees. I changed into my running shorts and pulled off my layers down to my short sleeves and took off. I ran a negative split by heart rate and managed to come in at 31:13. And I didn't stop the stopwatch at the traffic lights. So I figure I did it right around 30 min. That's my best 5k time. Ever. After I swam a mile and biked 16. I was officially feeling like a bad ass again.

Thanks, Lady. I needed that.

Rest Day

I'm finally feeling up to par. I know this because today is my rest day and I feel restless. I've only missed one of my regular workouts - and it was a planned miss, so I was expecting it - and I'm not tired and I can't wait for my long swim/bike/run tomorrow. Yeah for recovering and for kicking The Crud's butt.

I also think I may have my 'unhealthy carb' cravings kicked. At least yesterday, I had no problems - didn't even want a cookie, The Five O'Clock Feeding Frenzy never happened - we went out to eat and I didn't feel the need to stuff my face - left more than half of my dinner for today's lunch and didn't die for dessert. So, that was cool. It seems that if I include a protein at every meal and snack, and have fruit for snack and vegetable based meals, it keeps everything on an even keel. Like what you said, Bold. More protein. Also, making sure I got plenty of healthy carbs in the way of fruit seemed to help. I guess my body is craving carbs so, if I stock it with the good stuff, it won't ask for the bad stuff. Not that I'll never indulge in the "bad stuff", but I can feel like I have control over whether I say yes or no to the Cookie Monster. The crazy thing about The Feeding Frenzy is that I feel pretty much out of control - my body is demanding food and whatever is in sight is fair game.

Also - I registered for my "A" race, the Lake St. Louis Triathlon - Olympic Distance. Yikes. I'm really doing this. OK, deep breath - its in September, my training is going well and I will be ready. And if I'm not ready, I'm going to start anyway. I can't control all the factors that may or may not get me to the Finish Line, but I can sure as hell get myself to the Start. Barring hurricanes, violent illness or other God Forbid occurrences. I will Start. That's all anyone can promise.

Virtual Insanity

Triathletes are crazy. I realize this isn't big news to most of you. Its not really even big news to me, but the realization really sunk in yesterday -from obsessing about food, to workouts that lead to vomit, to getting excited about having an "awesome" bike accident.

Let me fill you in on the details. Yesterday I was, as you know obsessing about what I eat - or rather obsessing about not wanting to obsess about what I eat. Make sense? Didn't think so. But, there it was - I posted, I got some advice from you fine folks - Thanks Bolder and Jeff - and I felt better.

Which leads me to my spin workout last night. I worked hard. In fact, I worked so hard that at the end, when Troy had us do 3 sets of 10 sec 90% 10 sec 95% and 10 sec 100%, on my final set, I threw up a little. In my mouth. It was . . . gross. Then, when Troy said we were done, I ran to the bathroom and dry heaved. Also gross. But that's not the crazy part. The crazy part is that I felt kind of . . . proud. I mean I've heard of other athletes running or spinning or whatever so hard they threw up. I've never thought I was capable of pushing myself that hard. And, yeah, I should've eaten less before the workout, but still - I feel like I've joined a club. The Athletes Who Are So Hard Core They Throw Up club. And judging from the way Hubby looked at me when I told him what happened (I was almost giddy with endorphins and exhaustion and sheer amazement), its a club full of crazy people. Like me.

But, lest you think I've gone over the edge, I include an example of the truly hard core below. This dude races for my team and was in a cycling accident on Tuesday. This is his description of said accident. I don't know whether to be inspired or terrified.

"I have been in the ER since 1 because I wrecked my new black beauty and it was awesome. I endoed and landed on my face (i look like a B.A.) and like everybody that was driving stopped and called an ambulance. Man, they said it looked awesome. Which is why I couldn't make it. The bike seems to be in pretty good shape. Since I couldn't remember most of what happened (landing on my head an all) they took me in for a CAT scan and an MRI for my hand and wrist and X-Ray for my leg and knee which I couldn't move. And all I kept asking was "How fast did I take that corner?" and "I can't go to the ER because I have swimming practice!" I didn't have swim practice I was just shook up."
Mmm hmmm. That about sums it up. Triathletes are some crazy mo-fos. God, I love you people.

Finally, this morning I went out for a TEMPO RUN!!! It felt so good to let my legs run. Base Training is over - Build Phase has begun. What a way to start - with puke in my mouth.

The Fat Monster

Nytro's Post about Cadbury Eggs has me thinking. I've been keeping track of calories off and on on fitday. Ironically, the days I'm trying to keep a lid on it are the days that the fabled Feeding Frenzy kicks in around 5:30 and I proceed to, seemingly without control, eat everything within a ten mile radius. Well, not everything - I tend to stick to plan as far as what I eat, just now how much. And I've been eating cereal again - which is not in the plan. And a few other things not on plan - like the occasional cookie or piece of chocolate. And way too many nuts and raisins. None of that is life changing, none of it is really causing the scale to creep up. Its not making it go down, but there is no real tragedy here. I'm on the low end of a healthy weight. I would love to lose some body fat before my uniform gets here. At the very least, before my first race. I'm at about 20% right now which is not unhealthy, per se, but its not real pretty either. Still, why am I so worried about this? As long as I'm eating the healthy stuff with very occasional forays into the sweet stuff I love, shouldn't my training take care of the rest?

I guess the real issue here is motivation. I'm very motivated to train - I enjoy it and I don't want footprints on my back come race day. I'm very motivated to eat healthy food - I also enjoy it and I like the way I feel when I eat "clean". I'm not so motivated to be hungry. Even a little bit hungry sucks in my book. Especially when my brain pipes in: "What's the problem? You're not overweight. You look pretty good in those jeans, if I may say so. And you are working that body like a crazy woman. So have a cookie. I like cookies." I'm not sure a perfectly ripped body is worth going forever without chocolate. Or even going without chocolate for a week. Or skipping a couple of glasses of wine on the weekend. And it definately doesn't feel worth being hungry. I may change my mind on race day when my "famine insurance" is spooging over my shorts but I'm just not feelin' it now.

Crazy? Reasonable? The first time I've sounded sane since I started all this? I dunno. I'm going to have a cookie.

Hour of Payne

I met my swim coach, Ms. Payne (pronounced pain) on Saturday. This woman was ripped. That, plus the fact that she swam a mile in 19:30 (!?!?! WTF ?!?!?), made her a very intimidating picture to soft, non-swimmer me. My fear, it turns out, was relatively unfounded. She actually made me feel very comfortable in the water, she didn't make me swim harder than I could handle, and she pointed out a few things that I need to work on. OK, a LOT of things I need to work on. My head is too low, I'm twisting my arm upon entry to go in thumb first (???), I bend my knees on the kick, I breathe at 5:00 and 7:00 instead of 3:00 and 9:00, and I dig too deep and too far outside of my body. Oh, and my left arm crosses center sometimes. Yeah.

The good news is, I do one thing right. My rotation is very good. So there.

It was amazing though, how seemingly small tweaks equal big results. The first thing she changed was my kick - and I swear I went from rowboat to motor boat almost immediately. That change enabled me to do one armed drills for an entire length - a feat I had never been able to manage before. The problem is, there's so much to remember in the water and I'm not sure how I can ever implement everything she gave me.

I worked the drills this morning before my intervals and I definitely notice an improvement in my speed - I didn't time anything, but I could feel myself moving faster - and I was kicking the guy in the next lane's butt. I used to only kick "Floaty Lady's" butt. Floaty Lady is this elderly, relatively rotund woman who swims nearly everyday - at least every day I swim, she's there. You've got to honor the woman's commitment if not her form. I dubbed her Floaty Lady because she just sort of floats and moves her arms and legs in semi-freestyle type movements. I shouldn't make fun, but, especially underwater, its an amusing picture. And, she makes me look fast. But then, my seven year old passed her doing the dog paddle, so, you get the idea. But I digress.

The discouraging part of my Hour of Payne is that I couldn't seem to "swim easy" this morning. For sure I felt myself gliding through the water - and I could still be feeling some fatigue from my recent battle with The Crud. (Phoenix v. Crud - I finally won that showdown, but it took some doing.) STILL, I couldn't get into that place I found where I can just swim and breathe and go forever. I was up to a mile - feeling winded but like I definitely had some more in me - just a week or two ago. This morning, 200 felt exhausting. Do you think its just my muscles learning new tricks? Or maybe I'm still doing it wrong (I vote for this one)? My coach is unavailable for at least two weeks so I have some time to mull over this in the water.

I Did It!

Yesterday evening, when I went to pick up my son, Boy Genius (more on the name later), from After-School care, I was informed that there was no school today. Records Day. WTF?!?! So, I did some quick thinking and some quick calling to Boss Man and got this morning off - to keep an eye on Boy Genius and to get some much needed rest. I proceeded to go home, call Hubby and beg him to order pizza, and go straight to bed. There I stayed for fourteen hours and I wish I could say I felt better when I rolled out of bed at 8:00 this morning, but I really didn't.

However, I am nothing if not determined. And the sun was shining (though it was VERY windy) and it was above 40. Barely. So I bundled up Boy Genius, bundled myself up, and we got on our bikes and rode to the school. He played in the playground and I tooled around the parking lot, getting the feel for the bike, practicing come in and out of aero, shifting, braking, etc. Once I felt comfy, I pulled my Cycling Shoes out of my backpack, and went down to the track. My first idea was that I would try to ride on the grassy area in the middle but it was way too soft. So, after I practiced coming in and out of the pedals forty times on each foot. Yes, forty. I read that somewhere and after my Last Fall, I wasn't taking any chances. Then, I took a deep breath, I clipped in with one foot, and I took off. Then I clipped in with the other foot. And I was still upright. Still rubber side down. I couldn't believe it! I was riding clipless (that sounds kinda dirty) and I was surviving it! I rode around the track for about 20 minutes, clipping out, stopping, starting, getting comfy. My son was ready to go before I felt like I'd mastered it, but I did it! It felt great.

Now, I wish I could say I didn't fall at all, but that would be a lie. And George Washington taught me to never tell a lie. I did sort of fall right at the end. When Boy Genius was watching, of course. I'm not really sure how I managed it, really. I'd already stopped, already clipped out of my left pedal. All I can figure is that I naturally lean to the right when I stop so I must have leaned and, being still clipped in, I tipped. Mmm hmm. Very cool, very inspiring. B.G. got a kick out of it. And no damage was done, I just reskinned my knee a bit. A little blood, but no pain. I'm brave. Thank God, because with my grace - or lack thereof - I need some Courage!

Sinking into the Depths of "The Crud"

Thanks to all that replied yesterday.

I have to agree that its easier to write when you think no body's reading - but its so much more rewarding to write when you know somebody is. I suppose I (we) do this for a variety of reasons. It really helps to get things off of your chest, vent, and log interesting things that happened in training. Its cool to go back later and re-read where you were just a few months ago. Essentially, though, there's also this sense of community - some of you have large communities, some of us have small, but its still gratifying to know that someone is listening, someone is interested in how things are going for you and what you have to say, and someone is out there to offer advice when you feel lost - or when you didn't even know you were lost until you were given directions. And someone is out there sharing their own struggles on their blog and, again, you just don't feel like you're going it alone.

Training for a triathlon borders on insanity - certainly for the general population. And, while I can't speak for the rest of you out there, I'll venture to say I'm not alone in feeling like nobody in my immediate surroundings really wants to hear the gory details of my training, or my latest insecurity or vent or laugh or whatever is going on in the triathlon trenches on any particular day. Its beyond awesome to know that there are other people out there in the trenches, plugging away like me and its amazing to receive feedback and advice and encouragement from those folks - some hundreds of miles away. It makes you feel *sniff* supported. And, other than my favorite sports bra, nothing has made me feel more supported than feedback from you guys out there (you too, Hubby). So thank you, thank you, thank you!

On a dimmer note, I'm truly succumbing to "The Crud". My dreams of another "easy run" this morning quickly faded when I actually tried to get out of bed. And, on top of it, work is this incredible Festival of Madness. So, I have no training stories to tell today. I'm sure I'll have something after my meeting with swim coach, L. Payne. Pronounced "pain". I'm not making this up. Gulp. Wish me luck.