Pride and The Fall

Note: I apologize for the inordinate amount of time it took to get this to y'all. Apparently, the "spam blocker robots" at Blogger thought this blog was spam. That kind of freaks me out but - thankfully, the Blogger gods have been appeased and I'm free to go on with my blogland life. Thanks for waiting - and for wanting to hear this. I can't tell you how flattered I am that there are people out their asking me to get off my butt and post - Thanks!






It was an interesting weekend in the world according to Phoenix.

As I reported on Friday, I had a VO2 Max test Friday evening and a 10K race the next morning.

The test was pretty cool. The coach, Adam Zucco, started by asking me my level of ability - to which I modestly replied "Beginner" with emphasis. He asked what races I'd done and I said I just completed a "mini-sprint". He used this info to set the test up - he chose to start with a low effort and build from there, which I was relieved with. The last thing I wanted was to crash and burn after 3 minutes in front of a room full of people. So, I got on Pyro, put the mask thingy over my face and started peddling. He confirmed that it was a very easy effort for me at the start and off we went. Every minute, he upped the effort required to complete a revolution and after 10 min. or so, I started to feel it. But not enough to drop my cadence, just enough to get my attention and get my respiration up. He asked if that was my normal cadence and I said "Yeah." He said it was at 90. Cool! Though later he said the top Iron man finishers don't touch 80. I assume he meant they had lower cadence/higher gears. Anyway, after 20 minutes, I was still going strong and Adam was making encouraging remarks about my fitness level. The one that really went to my head was "She said she did a little sprint but she didn't tell us she trained for it like she was doing Louisville." That made me blush and pedal harder. There was also a huge storm outside and I started to visualize that I was driving the rain - it was kind of a fun visualization and it kept me from slacking on the pace. Unfortunately, my storm building ability was a little too good and the power went out just before the 21:00 mark. And I had definitely not maxed out yet. Bummer. The important thing, however, was that we got my aerobic threshold, my lactate threshold, and my power output as well as some interesting metabolic information. So it was all really useful - and they didn't even charge me for the cost of the test. My aerobic zone is about where I thought it was - around 154 on the bike and, using the crude method of adding 10 beats to that, 164 on the run. My LT is 174 on the bike, estimated 184 on the run. Like Rural Girl, I'm a hummingbird. My power out put at lactate threshold is 150 watts. I don't know if that's good or bad, it is what it is. The bummer result was my metabolic data. Turns out I burn exclusively sugar - absolutely no fat. Which, of course, only requires one look at my rear end to see the truth in that. Yeah, tell me about it, I don't burn fat. Dang. He suggested I eat more protein and less carbs - especially simple sugars. My diet is relatively close to that ideal, but I know it can get better. So it will. He also theorized that I may have more fast twitch than slow twitch muscle fibers - which as I was a sprinter and long jumper as a kid makes sense. It also explains the disparity between my 5k and 10k pace as I will be getting around to in just a sec. So, especially when marathon training and next season role around, I will concentrate on more of the LSD and less of the intensity. It is in my nature to prefer the higher intensity workouts - even on longer distances. I like to burn hot. Go figure.

On to my 10k race report. I got to bed about 11:00 Friday night - after the VO2 Max test, a glass of wine and some cereal for supper. Not my usual carbo loading, sleeping, kind of optimal pre-race habit. But the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning and I felt as ready as I could be. I put on my race clothes, went upstairs for my usual pre-race oatmeal and coffee, and went to kiss Hubby goodbye only to find out he was coming along. He had thought about racing but he cracked a rib on our trip (I'll just let your imaginations run with that one for awhile) and wasn't up to running - so I thought he'd choose to sleep in rather than driving an hour to watch me run a rather impromptu race. But, he's Hubby and he was not going to miss an opportunity to cheer and take photos and generally make me feel supported and loved. That's one of the reasons I love the guy.

So, we were off. We arrived at the race 30 minutes before start, rushed through registration and got ready to rumble. I was feeling confident, even in the muggy, hot conditions, until I ran into a truck. Not figuratively. I literally ran into a truck. Lemme 'splain. As I was jogging around the parking lot, warming up, I passed a group of cyclists heading out for a ride. Part of me was salivating and wished I'd brought Pyro to ride instead of run but, alas, it was not an option. ANYWAY, as I was running by, I heard a voice say "I used to love running." I turned around to answer the voice and was only able to get out a little laugh before I ran into a pickup truck parked right in front of me. Luckily, I was only warming up. If I had been going at my full, lightening fast speed, I would've broken something. Like the truck. Thankfully, it was only my pride that was hurt. Still, it didn't bode well for the race that was about to start.

I took my place at the starting line, Big Shark Bra Top and shorts making me feel like a poser. Everyone was looking at me like I actually had game and, alas, I felt that I did not. I seeded myself just behind what I thought was the front of the pack and waited for the air horn.











When it went off, I started slow and easy, keeping 21stCenturyMom's advice to take the first two miles slow and surge from there. There were three races that were running simultaneously - the 5k which took off to the right at the start, and the 15k and 10ks which both went left. The 15k people veered off after less than a quarter of a mile and it was just us, the 10k warriors, left to battle it out on the corn-lined course. With the subtraction of the 15kers, I was surprised at the small number of people ahead of me. There was one woman that I could see and I just decided to keep her in my sights (she was pretty far ahead of me) and bide my time. I was passed by a couple of guys, one of them sounded like he was working really hard already. The hard working guy only made it to a few feet in front of me then he seemed to slow to my pace - again, I let him be and marked him for later. In the first mile, one woman passed me, Pink Chic. She was struggling, poor thing, and I knew she wasn't going to spend a lot of time in front of me. So, I let her go, and kept an eye on her. "You, chica, are mine. You are going down. But I'll let you stay in front for awhile. If that makes 'ya feel better." As you can tell, I'm totally working on my race mentality.

The first two miles felt like cake - though my heart rate stayed at 183 the whole time. Once I passed the two mile mark, I picked it up just ever so slightly. At this point, Pink Chic fell victim to my burning speed (tongue planted firmly in cheek) and I passed her. She took it hard but she stayed passed. Sorry, Pink Chic. Hard Working Dude, also known as The Dude in Black stayed ahead of me but the distance between us was getting smaller. I passed the first water stop, took a couple of sips, poured the rest and picked it up again. Before I knew it, the half way point had come and we were passing the finish line. I heard Hubby say "Go! You're half way there!!" So I went.








I passed The Dude in Black and he stayed passed. (You can see the chic that was way ahead of me in the front, yellow tank top - I was closing in)

Shortly after that, I heard her. There had been a couple of good hills on the course but I was blowing through them pretty well. We had come to the steepest hill of the course. I was feeling it, but I knew what I could handle and I knew there was plenty left in the tank. I could hear her breathing behind me but I knew surging now would do me no good. I let her go. She was a little thing with cut legs and a blue technical tank on. She was fast. As soon as she passed me and I tried to pick it up a bit more to keep her in the radar, I knew she was way faster than me. She would beat me and she would earn it. So I watched her get farther away and did not allow myself regrets. I was running my own race and that was all that mattered.

After mile 4, I removed the safety tabs. My heart rate climbed from 186, where it had been for the middle two miles to nearly 190. It. Was. On. Who it was actually on with, I'm really not sure. There was no one around except for - Yellow Tank Top Chic. The one who started so far ahead of me. I was closing on her fast - and she was struggling on yet another steep uphill. I didn't feel the hill, I just had her in my sights and I was attacking. She stopped to walk, I flew by. Another one down. Now it was just me and my watch and the last couple of miles. Unfortunately, those last miles had some killer hills. I ate each one for breakfast, promising myself that the downhill was dessert. They came and they went and I kept going. The last mile was almost all uphill and now it was starting to hurt. I was seeing fuzzy, wavy lines in front of my eyes - but I was still running and so I just kept running. I found that if I focused on the finish line, which I could see in the distance, the lines were less obvious than if I looked at the road ahead of me. So I looked at the finish line. This race was actually a wee bit over 10k, but they had considerately put a sign up at the Exactly 10k mark. It was there that I hit my stop watch. 56:40. Just over 9:00 miles - a pace thiry seconds per mile under what Runner's World says I should be able to complete a 10k in, according to my 5k PR. Not stellar. But not too bad for a former 12 minute miler. It was OK with me and it was the best that I could do on that day. The finish line was really close now, so I started to sprint. I'm not sure how I did, but I did. I ran like a bear was chasing me until I crossed the line.











Then I collapsed in the grass and tried to get out the words "How many women in front of me?" Hubby, who speaks Gasp, said he wasn't sure because a few 5kers were crossing just before I came in. So I waited for the awards. Crazy enough, I took second out of six in my age group. Crazier than that, though they only gave out age group medals, I was third woman overall. Lemme say that again. Third Place Female. Overall. Never, in a million, zillion years, when I was slogging out the miles pushing Boy Genius in a baby stroller and bemoaning how incredibly slow I was, did I ever think I would place Third Overall in a 10k. Even a small one, like this was. Even one with a lot of other slow women, like this one. Never in a million zillion years.

To temper the incredible pride that came before, Lady Tri was kind enough to send a fall. In the form of an endo. Thankfully, an endo onto the grass, so I wasn't hurt. It was a beautiful full somersault which ended with me in a pile and Pyro as the Cake Topper. I was tired. I had just climbed a hill- a hill that came at the end of a 2 hour, 27 mile, hilly ride. My legs were trashed from the 10k the day before. I was almost home. Almost home meaning, I was right in front of my house. I hit a curb. Thankfully, nobody saw. Or, if they did, they were kind enough not to let me know. So I got a healthy dose of both Triathlon Vitamins this weekend. Pride and Humility. Its all good.

Um. Wow.

Things are going really well in my little corner of the world. For one, this blog has been featured in the USAT-Midwest Region newsletter. So cool. I wish I could think of something brilliant and insightful to say, but AJ hasn't gotten back to me with any ideas.

Secondly, my friend Sally and Adam Zucco, both from Training Bible, are doing a VO2 Max demo tonight at Little Shark (team headquarters)and guess who gets to do the demo test? Your's truly!! So, I will finally know my true Lactate Threshold and what my freakin' heart rate is "supposed" to be when I'm training in any given Zone.

Should be pretty handy for these next few weeks as I pile on the mileage and intensity (yeah, yeah, I'm following the 10% rule and all that) getting ready for the Lake St. Louis Oly Distance in September. And, it will really be useful this fall when I begin marathon training for the Space Coast Marathon in Florida the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Yes, gentle readers, I did say MARATHON! Its time this Fire Bird got some run on. My run has improved greatly this season but I think it can only get better with some focused training. Plus, I just want to say I did it. What the hell, a couple of triathlons under my belt, I might as well do the 26.2, right? Sure. What the hell.

So, my motivation, which has been sorely lacking after my incredibly relaxing trip to the river (post and pictures to come, I promise), is starting pick up again. I can feel that fire in my belly starting to burn and I'm looking forward to what it has in store for me.

Tomorrow morning, I'm racing a 10k - my first - so I can start to get the feel for that distance at race intensity. I've run that far (and farther) many times, but, as you all can attest to, training is not racing. Wish me luck, sports fans!

And be careful out there!

**** Edit - Ok, so I'm the type of person to constantly "rear view mirror" edit myself and it occurs to me, after much thought throughout the day, that my above "scoff" at the 26.2 miles might not clearly be tongue in cheek. So, there ya go. Totally tongue in cheek. 26.2 miles is terrifying!! But I'm doing it because that's what I do - I look stuff that terrifies me right in the face and stick out my tongue and say "I'm doing it anyway." When I was four, I insisted I was big enough to ride the kids roller coaster. My mom and dad warned me that it would be scary, that it was bigger than it looked, but I insisted that I wanted to do it and that it would be fun. I got on that thing and I did it. With a big smile plastered on my face - right below saucer sized eyes filled with terror. I was, in fact, terrified, but I wasn't going to let my mom and dad - or the roller coaster - know this. I still love roller coasters. That is the nature of this beast.

Whew. I feel better now.

Gotta Get Away!

So, I wasn't sore from the race but Thursday's bootcamp with my friend Coach Sally has me in agony!!! Any of you lucky enough to live in or visiting the St. Louis area should check it out. Its a great workout and there are several triathletes (including Sally herself) involved.

Thank God I'm heading for the river tomorrow, my thighs are in dire need of recovery.













Did I mention that I'm heading for the river tomorrow? Not just any river, mind you, our river - as in Hubby's and mine. We first visited this river (which for the sake of preserving said river's quiet wildness I promised Hubby I wouldn't name) when we had been dating only two months. It was a test of sorts that we both passed with flying colors (thankfully!)









It was on this trip that I really knew Hubby was "the one". I had suspected it before, even that early, but on this trip, I knew. It was in the way we approached the challenges on the river together without tension or blame but with two heads working quickly to find the best solution. It was in the way that, when my beloved Dudley went missing on the trail (during the backpacking segment of the trip), Hubby (then Boyfriend) stayed positive and offered unparalleled support. I'll never forget walking down the trail ahead of him, calling Dudley's name then finally starting to break down as I lost all hope of ever seeing him again - and hearing my Future Hubby not walking, but running up behind me to put his arms around me and assure me that it would be OK. The sound of those steps running up behind me was the sound of my future. We found Dudley (of course) and the ending was nothing but happy.



The next summer we returned to the river and found the same gravel bar from the year before to camp on. It was perfect in every way - a raised and tree-sheltered spot for the tent, a beautiful bluff to look at across the river, a fire circle on a gravel beach to cook on as the sun set. Even a rope swing.













It was that year, on this gravel bar that we got engaged. Without a doubt, one of the most ecstatic moments of my life.




















Last summer, we were back again. Same gravel bar, same idyllic feeling. Its our river.

















Dudley's river too.







Happy Trails!

The Aftermath

I thought I'd be sore - I'm not. I thought I'd be exhausted - I wasn't. I suppose that means that I should have put more out there, left more on the course. But, in my life so far, I've learned so many lessons through pain, it's awfully nice to learn a few through joy. That sounds a little like I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I'm not. Most of my "pain" has been self inflicted - ramming my head repeatedly into figurative brick wall after figurative brick wall just to prove to myself that it was hard. Enough of that!


The race euphoria has worn off a bit but, thanks to all of your encouragement and the support and love of my family, the famed post-race blues have yet to take seed. I'm gearing up and excited for the next challenge - Lake St. Louis Olympic Distance.

In other news, thanks to 21stCenturyMom, my FTE report is featured on Race Athlete's website! How cool is that!

Well, sports fans, its another day in this brand new triathlete's life - and I'm looking forward to grabbing it and running - or biking - or swimming with it.

Be careful out there!

FTE: The Real Story

With support like this, how can you go wrong? My dad, sister and my nephew came in from an hour away to meet Hubby and Boy Genius at the shuttle pick up at 7:00 in the morning. I could hear them cheering for me during the swim, on the bike, and at the start and finish of the run. They made me feel like a superstar.




My race really started last night, at my son's baseball game which started at 8:00. PM. Also known as "My Private Hell." Who in the hell schedules a baseball game for seven year olds at 8:00 at night? Boy Genius was grumpy before we even got there. And by grumpy I mean the "I hate you, I don't want to live with you anymore, your cooking tastes like vomit" variety of grumpy. These are exact quotes. So, yeah. I wasn't feeling real warm and fuzzy about the baseball game and the hours of sleep it was stealing from the Eve of my First Tri Ever. But, once we got there, he settled down, apologized, professed his love for me, and played a good game. He was especially good at hitting (he's probably the most consistent hitter on his team - Go Boy Genius!!) and kicking the dirt around so it got in the other players' eyes. He's crafty that way.

So, with about two hours less sleep than I would have preferred, I awoke this morning at 5:00 a.m. to the dawn of my (say it with me) First Tri Ever. Now, as you can probably imagine, I had opened my eyes several times before my "official" 5:00 a.m wakeup time. First at midnight, then 2:00, then 3:30. And probably a few more times before that. As has been reported by many other bloggers, sleep is not sound the night before a race. Especially not before one's FTE. Aren't you glad I didn't make you say it with me that time?

I was nervous bordering on Terrified Out of My Mind. But I ate about a half a bowl of oatmeal, a half a cup of coffee and a half a banana. Just before I left, I pulled up my training log and looked at the total number of running miles, biking miles, and swimming yards. "This is what you've put into this." I said to Self. "This is where you've been. Where you're going is a piece of cake compared to this." This calmed me down considerably and I was ready to go.

When I arrived at the race, I found I had a ton of questions and not a lot of folks to answer them. No bodymarking - so "Do we need our numbers on the bike?" No one knew. "Does transition close at all?" Again, no one knew for sure but there was a strong suspicion that, since there were a number of heats setting out from 7:00 in the morning until 8:45, that they would leave the area open to the athletes. So I set up my transition area to my satisfaction, made sure Pyro was all comfy on her rack, and slipped on my running shoes to head out for a warm up jog. It was cool but very humid - and I felt absolutely fabulous. I couldn't have been in better spirits. I felt tough in my uniform, my feet felt like they had springs in them and I was just totally psyched at the energy surrounding the race. I did my warmup without my socks and that felt so darn right that I decided to leave the socks off for the race as well. I smeared body glide all over the tops and sides of my feet and felt good to go.

The span of time between the end of my warmup and the start of my heat allowed me to find those butterflies again. And when you think of these butterflies, imagine about ten thousand eagle sized mothras beating around in my little tum. It was a little disconcerting. I was really going to do this - I was really going to swim/bike/run as fast as I could for an hour plus. That's when AJ's Race Phase No. ? began: OMG, OMG, OMFG!!!

Thankfully, it was soon time for me to go up to the pool and watching the other swimmers calmed me down. There were a couple of dudes breast-stroke/doggy-paddling/running on the bottom. And this one woman was doing the absolute slowest freestyle I have ever seen. That, my dear ones, is saying something. And you know what, though seeing them made me feel better, I didn't feel superior or like I was looking down on them at all. In fact I was kind of impressed that they were out there, giving it a shot. They were working a lot harder than the fishes on the other side of the pool, and they were doing it anyway. That was pretty cool.


The Swim

As soon as I got in the water, my nerves disappeared and I felt absolutely ready.
I started joking with the guy in my lane - we got lucky and the third person in our lane didn't show and it was just the two of us.




I'm the one in the blue swim cap with the shark on it.

And then, we swam.












Best swim ever - 300 yds - 5:44. A time that, for me, was, as our friend Bolder would say, stellah!









T1

1:30

Easy Peasy.




















The Bike













I cut a little time off of my previous trial runs here, but not a lot. My weakness, it seems, is cornering. I slow way down before approaching a sharp turn and I lose time on it. In fact, this one woman I cat and moused with for the entire last half of the ride passed me once and for all because I had slowed down to go down the chute into T2. And everytime she'd passed me before had been before a turn - I would slow for the turn, she would buzz past, I would catch her and blow by her until she caught me on the next turn. Something to work on. I got passed by four other people. Two chicks on the second lap, going up the only real hill of the course - and there was no way I was catching them. They were, without doubt, Out of My League. One dude passed me the same way - see ya dude, lookin' strong! And one chick who thought she had me on the uphill but I blew past her like she was standing still as soon as we crested the hill. See, I had a strategy. I was spinnin' up the hill to save my legs, not blowing all I had on the climb only to come out with nothing for the flats and the down hills. I didn't have time to give her that little pointer though, so I just said "On your left" in the most encouraging, positive, in your face sort of way I knew how. And after that, other than cat and mouse chick, I was the one that did all the passing. I passed on dude in a speedo on a nice road bike - like he wasn't even moving. And tons of folks on mountain bikes and hybrids. And two girls on road bikes - I heard one say to the other as I blew past, "I wish I could ride like that." I. Shit. You. Not. I wanted to laugh, thinking of all my rubber side down moments. Instead, I just stood up a little and pumped like I meant it to put a bit more distance on those two lovelies - cause that's what one of the Out of My League chicks did when she passed me. I thought it looked cool. Thank you, lovelies, you made my day. I hope you had a good race!

Final time: 31:37

T2 - :49

Yeah, baby!



The Run

As many of you know, after last weeks debacle, I was fearing the run a bit.

I started out conservatively -








And I just kept at it, grinding up the hills, encouraging and accepting encouragement from the other runners, and staying positive.

"OK, chica, this is where we started. The Run. You love to run. So, do it. Nice and easy. Relaxed like a Kenyan. You're going to do this. You're going to be a triathlete today."

And so it went for 15 minutes and change to the turnaround. The halfway mark came before I knew it and it felt great to turn around - especially since I knew there were more downhills than uphills on the way back. So, I started down the hill, and started to pick it up.

"All, right, lady, let's make hay while the sun shines, pick up that cadence, stay relaxed, you've got it."

A slight side stitch toyed with me throughout, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I kept at it. I was encouraging the runners that were starting their run -"You're almost halfway, you've got this!" Until it occurred to me that if I had the breath to cheer, I wasn't going fast enough. So I picked it up some more.

When I passed the last water station, the one where this totally awesome lady had her garden hose on in her front yard and was spraying any runner that wanted it, I knew I was going to finish this thing. And, looking at the time on my stopwatch, I had a suspicion I was going to beat my 1:15 goal. So I picked it up some more.

The last 400 yards or so before the finish, I'm not sure if I was smiling on the outside, I was concentrating on keeping up the pace, pushing it a little harder, but on the inside, I was beaming.

"You're going to do this! You're going to be a triathlete, today!"

I could feel all the training, all the sweat, all the falls and the tears and the elation I had experienced on this entire journey - erupting as I crossed the finish. I did it. Today, I became a triathlete.






Run time - 28:33.

Final time - 1:08:15


I didn't win any bling. I was 7th out of 18 in my age group and 114 out of 200+ participants. Right in the middle of the pack. At first, I was disappointed with this. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, at this time of my life, I like the middle of the pack just fine. Most of my life I've been first - or vieing for it. First born, First in the Long Jump, "Best Actress", "Best Singer", blah, blah, blah. In the theatrical world, I was always fighting to stay at the top - if you want to work, you have to be one of the very very best. Always pressuring myself to be more - letting my self worth depend on the latest review, the latest role, what the latest director had to say about me. It was exhausting. And I was pretty good at it. But I wasn't good enough to stay up there without a cost. And that price tag was getting just a little bit ridiculous.

Being in the middle is kind of cozy. There's not a lot of pressure and nobody other than the people who matter are watching you. Nobody is waiting with baited breath for you to fall. There are victories and triumphs and failures here too, but they are more personal, more about your own growth, your own happiness than about what the masses are saying about you. I like it here, in the middle. I have lots of great company.

This is NOT an Official Post.

Well it is, but I said I wasn't going to do another "official post" until after my FTE. But, Pirate just tagged me a Rockin' Girl Blogger and I am so excited, I just couldn't wait!!! This is way better than even winning my FTE would be - So it totally doesn't matter what happens on Sunday because I have been labeled "Rockin'" by one of the coolest, rockinest chicks evah!! Am I gushing too much?

OK, so I nominate

Vickie
No Wetsuit Girl
Danielle
Stronger
Little Miss Runner Pants

Man. Only five? Well, these ladies are rockin' it - now its their turn to pass it on. There are of course some rockin' mens out there too, but this one's about the womens. Rock on, bloggers!

OK.

This is, officially, my last post before my FTE. I haven't really sorted out how I feel right now. Part of me is totally non-chalant but I have this sort of tingly numb feeling in my whole body when I think about the race this weekend. Its happening right now, and I'm having a hard time typing.

My hopes:

I hope I don't forget anything.
I hope it doesn't rain.
I hope I don't crash.
If I crash, I hope I get back on (I will.)
I hope I don't flat.
If I flat, I hope I can get the tire changed quickly (yes, I've practiced this, but I haven't had to do it on the road yet)
I hope I get my nutrition all sorted out and right.
I hope I don't puke during the run.
I kind of hope I do puke at the finish. Then I'll know I gave it everything. Sick? Uh, yeah. Sick.

I don't fear any of the above. Whatever will be, will be. I can only carry my hopes with me and move forward, knowing I have put in the training, I have the will, I have the drive, I will roll with whatever Lady Tri throws at me. I know she's not my enemy - she's just a pretty tough instructor sometimes. And sometimes, sometimes she leaves me feeling like I've been hugged by the light. We'll see what she has for me on Sunday. Probably both.

I gotta say this. You guys have meant so much to me these months of training and whining and laughing and crying and commiserating. Though I haven't had the pleasure of meeting any of you (yet!) I count you all as my friends and I feel so very very fortunate to do so. Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you again. This is just a little race coming up but this whole experience has done so much to shape me, encourage me, thrill me and sometimes spill me. And you all have made it so amazing. I'm getting a little verklept here, which seems sort of, I don't know, trite, but it really has been a journey to mark time by.

I'll see you on the flip side!