RACE REPORT: Ironman Coeur d'Alene: Part 4 - The Run

I'm sure this is probably the most drawn-out race report in the history of time, but hey, it's summer. You know, that time of peaceful relaxation, long afternoons on the hammock with a novel and a glass of iced tea.... ha ha ha...not in my family!  In reality, I was at the National Open Water Swim Championships this week, swimming my first ever competitive 10k, but I'll have to write that up some other time.

I guess I should finish up my Ironman Race Report, but to be honest, I don't have much desire to write up my running experience. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. It didn't start out too bad though.  I had a good transition: just over 3 minutes, and that included making sure the sunscreeners really coated me up good. I decided to wear my Zoot IceFil arm coolers, which was a great idea given that the day was heating up. Yes, I wore arm warmers in the morning and arm coolers in the afternoon - such is the mercurial temperatures at IMCdA. I also decided to wear my Nike Free shoes, putting my Vibram Five Fingers in my special needs bag in case running in the shoes was bugging my feet too much.

Out of transition, I ran up through town with all the cheering people. Even though it was uphill, it went by fast. I got to see my family and get some encouragement there, and then headed down through the part of the course that winds through the pretty neighborhoods along the lake. This is nice and shady, and people have lawn sprinklers and hoses out so it's easy to stay cool.

Originally I'd aimed to hold a 10:30 pace on the run course, but given the way I'd been feeling so far, I bumped that up to 11:00 per mile. For the first six miles, the plan was to add another :30 per mile and just take it easy. That worked out fine, and left me able to walk through all of the aid stations and make sure I dumped cold water on my arm coolers, got some nutrition in, and then grabbed a cup of ice on the way out and held the biggest pieces in the palms of my hands to help with cooling. This worked really well and my temperature stayed cool even as the day got hotter. The run course is really, really, really beautiful and it's easy to distract yourself with the lovely views of the lake. I can't recommend this course enough!

After six miles you encounter the big hill on the run course. On the bike it doesn't seem like much but it looks a whole lot bigger when you're running! This is a new addition to the IMCdA course from '11 on, and it makes the run course more challenging. Coming back down the hill, my bum knee was giving me some fits, but thankfully it didn't feel bad on the flats. Now it was time to dial the pace back to 11:00 per mile, and it seemed to go okay for a few miles but then my stomach started feeling worse and worse and worse. The mild nausea that I had been experiencing all day was worsened by the running, the fatigue, and probably the warmer temperatures and somewhere around mile 12 it bubbled over and I started throwing up.

Shit! This is not how I wanted to spend my IM marathon! I also remembered my time in the med tent after IMFL and had no desire to see a repeat performance of that extreme dehydration. So here I was leaning over a porta-potty toilet, somewhere right before heading back through downtown and I'll have to say this was my "dark night of the soul" moment. I didn't even want to see my family, I felt so bad. I skipped the next aid station, knowing whatever I put down was going to come back up and I didn't want to throw up in front of all of the people downtown or especially in front of my kids and hubby.

I did decide to stop for my special needs bag and get out my IceFil t-shirt. I changed my singlet out for the t-shirt, knowing it would help keep my core temperature even lower and that might help with the nausea. I didn't need to switch out my socks or shoes, everything else was fine. I took the chewable ginger out of the bag as well and started eating that to help my stomach out. I was also having some chafing down in the...erm...neither regions, due I think to pouring water over my head at the aid stations and having it drip down my back. I did have some Glide in my special needs bag, but I hadn't counted on the Special Needs station being right in front of the crowds! How the heck do you put Glide down your butt crack in front of hundreds of people? Ah, such are the questions you are forced to answer at an Ironman. At least I didn't throw up on anyone.

To make matters even better, as I was debating the Glide/posterior problem, hubby runs up and starts snapping pics with the camera. Now that's a moment I did not need memorialized for posterity! He asked how I was doing and I told him my stomach and my knee were for shit. I'm sure he probably guessed from the look on my face as I tried to put on a brave smile that I was pretty much in trouble. But what's there to do at that point? Keep on running. I saw my kids, and then my step-sons and daughters-in-law cheering wildly. It's amazing how important that becomes when you're facing the dark moments. They brought a smile to my face, and I kept on picking up the feet and putting them down. Coming that close to the finish line and then turning around and running back out of town was so very hard to do. But what's the alternative? Quit in front of your family and friends? Or dig deeper? I dug.

Just out of town I hit up the next aid station and decided I better get some fluids since I skipped the last one. I was hopeful since it had now been almost 3 miles since I threw up. Maybe things would be okay. I poured water on my IceFil shirt and arm coolers, got my ice in hand, and started running. So far so good..... but nope. Half a mile later I'm barfing again. The next couple of miles were basically trying to run, throwing up, walking, trying to run, throwing up, walking. This sucked!

Eventually I figured out that I only threw up once my heart rate started picking up, so I developed a strategy of starting to walk a minute before I got to the aid stations to lower my heart rate. Then drinking some Perform or some chicken broth, and then walking for another minute out of the aid station to keep everything down. At that point I could run to the next aid station and everything stayed down. It slowed my pace down to about 12:45, but I could keep going and at least I wasn't walking the whole thing. At that pace, I figured I could come in just under 13:30. Not what I hoped for, but in my mind it was in the realm of not too awful either.

So that was the whip I used to keep myself going for the last 10 or so miles - I knew if I stayed under 13:00 miles, I could beat 13:30. I know that's pretty arbitrary, but at that point you have to go with whatever works to keep you going. I'm not going to kid you, those miles were hell. I was just teetering on the brink of barfing the whole time and I absolutely stinking hate throwing up. I was just not a happy camper. I hated watching people pass me. I hated knowing that even though I ran my last IM marathon with a dislocated toe for pete's sake, this one was going to be slower. Waaayyyyy slower.

I will admit here I got pretty down on myself. I forgot my personal mantra: that it's a gift to be out there doing this. Not many people can even do this, so why was I busy comparing myself with my own arbitrary goals and with what other people were doing? I let myself get in a bad head space, and couldn't seem to pull it out. This is pretty unusual for me, but there it was.

The final insult was that I had spent all this time calculating out my paces so that I could beat 13:30, but as I passed the 26 mile marker, a volunteer told me "The finish line is only 10 blocks that way!" Ten blocks? I only had a few minutes to make it, and no way is 10 blocks equal to .2 miles. So I didn't even make my own stupid completely arbitrary goal of 13:30. I finished in 13:30:59 instead. I don't know why I let this create a black cloud over my head, but I did. I should've been busy enjoying my accomplishment, but I didn't give it the appreciation that it deserved. Only as I neared the finish line, came through downtown with all of the cheering crowds and all of the excitement, and as I saw my family again that it dawned on me - I was going to actually finish my second Ironman. Suddenly the black clouds were gone and I was just so happy to be done.

Unfortunately, it was a second Medical Tent experience for me. I wish I'd waited to get my photo taken until I emerged from the Med Tent because honestly, I won't even post my photo here - I look positively green, and my expression can best be described as "take the damn picture already before I throw up!" I was in the tent for about an hour and a half until I could get my stomach back under control. Wayne took the kids back to the hotel room so they didn't have to wait around for me.

So my biggest goals for my next Ironman are: 
1) Arrive at start line healthy
2) Stay healthy through the race
3) Don't end up in the Med Tent!

I haven't had good luck with the Ironman. IM #1 (Canada) was a DNS due hospitalization for ulcers and severe anemia, IM #2 (Florida) was an in-race injury with my toe dislocated in the swim, IM #3 (Coeur d'Alene) was food poisoning the week of the race. Surely the fourth time will be a charm? I feel like I have unfinished business with the Ironman.I have raced well at other distances, but never at IM. I want a race where I feel like I live up to my own potential, whatever that may be.

BUT... but, but, but, but.... I am a finisher. I didn't give up. I didn't give in. And really, my time isn't even that bad, even though much slower than my last. More than anything, I will remind myself that I Am An Ironman. I have earned it, and I will enjoy it.

RACE REPORT: Ironman Coeur d'Alene: Part 3 - The Bike

Yeah, this race report is slow in coming together. Just been too busy since we've gotten home to sit down at the computer! But here's the bike portion...

LAP 1

There is no feeling on earth like riding through downtown Coeur d'Alene, streets lined with screaming people, cowbells clanging and horns blowing. You feel like you're doing something totally epic (which, of course, you are), and the energy is mind-blowing. Then a few turns later, you're out on this beautiful road by the lake, and you can't help but feeling euphoric at this point. I especially loved the bagpipes at the top of the hill on the first part of the course, harkening back to my Scottish roots and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Then you're at the turn-around and ready to zoom back into town and through the crazy mob again. Overall I felt okay through here, but for some strange reason my heart rate was really elevated - 30 beats higher than it should've been for this level of effort, according to my race rehearsals.

I knew Wayne and the kids would be on the overpass leading to highway 95, but just as I was blasting up the on-ramp, I dropped my chain, luckily managing to miss getting hit by the people behind me as I came to an abrupt stop. Then I saw my lovely cheerleading daughter screaming her lungs out and my hubby smiling, and their energy sent me out onto the harder part of the course. At this point, the adrenaline of the swim had worn off, and my heart rate was still really high. I had no idea what was going on with my body. My brain panicked and remembered my swim from Friday where I had to sleep for several hours afterwards. I was worried that my body was just not recovered enough from the food poisoning to hold out for this race.

Somewhere before mile 20, I broke out in a total body sweat, even though it was still really cold outside. Now I don't sweat much in the best of circumstances - a mild sheen is all you'll see on me on the hottest days of the summer. But sweat was pouring out of me, like I had just eaten a bowl of tabasco sauce or something. Then abruptly, it was over, replaced by a crushing fatigue that had me about ready to cry. Mind you, this is on a flat part of the course, before you face the hills and the wind.

At this point, I was filled with despair - this was it. I was going to DNF at mile 20 of the bike. All of my training, all the sacrifices from my family, all of the support from everyone, it was all going to end here. I wanted to throw my bike off the side of the road and just lay down and sleep. I was wrung out. But somehow I just kept cycling. Kept turning the pedals over. I didn't even know why I was doing it, I just did. One of my goals for the race was to just stay "in the box", per Endurance Nation's racing strategy: "the box" is what you can control this moment. At this point, that's all I had. I figured I would keep biking easy until I either felt better or simply had to stop. Eventually, I did just start feeling better. The sweat had dried and the fatigue lifted, I began to feel like I might actually make it.

So this is the point in the race where you look up and see the first of the big hills on the bike course. Damn! Psychologically, I was not so ready to face this. But I remembered what I set out to do when I pre-rode the course a month back, when I had mentally prepared myself for this moment. I looked around and found the peaceful green valley off to the side of the road, letting it fill my mind with a feeling of serenity. I vowed to look for it again from the top of the hill, because I knew I'd have a gorgeous view down into the valley from up there. That was it, time to grind upwards!

The nice thing about this course is that the hills really aren't hard. No terrible grades, and at this point in the day no searing heat. It was a pleasant temperature and I just put my head down and headed on up. At the top, I had some anxiety about the descent. As I mentioned in my pre-race write-up, my race wheels felt sketchy and developed a speed wobble when I pre-rode the course. I just took it easy on the downhill and yes, I rode the brakes. Yes, people passed me flying down the hill while I gave up my free speed and braked. But it's my race darnit, and I wanted to feel safe.

Of course, I regretted that the instant the hill ended and the winds began, because I had to work harder into the wind and up the next hill than I should've, but at least I didn't crash and burn and that was something! I did hear later in the race that a couple of people had bit it crashing on the hills, so I think for myself that decision to take it easy was a good one.

The rest of the first lap was a grind into the wind. Wind, hill, wind, hill, wind, hill. The turnaround seemed to be a distant possibility that came all too slowly. My time at the turnaround had me thinking I was in for a 7-hour bike ride. Ugh! I did NOT want that. But I had underestimated how much wind there had been, because once I turned back toward town, we were flying along with a good tailwind. Nice!

LAP 2

I figured that my family would've gone back to the hotel by now - I told them they didn't have to cheer me for the whole bike course. So imagine my surprise when I saw them there at the overpass. As soon as Asa saw me, she started yelling and cheering. I got lots of appreciative comments from riders around me about her enthusiasm. That was a great way to start my second loop.

I was looking forward to going through town and out along the lake again, and it didn't disappoint. Wow, this has to be one of the world's best Ironman courses for the crowds and the views. The bagpipers were still there as well, and I thanked them as I went past. The only moment of frustration in this section was a male cyclist in a bright green jersey who would not let me pass him. I had been coming up on him for awhile, but as soon as I passed him, he didn't even wait to drop back out of the draft zone but immediately re-passed me. Then he zoomed ahead, and after a few minutes he sat up, stretched, got some nutrition, slowed down again, and I had to over-take him again. This scenario repeated itself so many times I was getting mad. Ride your pace dude! I consoled myself with the thought that after his quads blew up, I would pass him on the run (I did). Other than that though, this part of the course was highly enjoyable.

Then all that was left was The Big Grind (or so I nicknamed the 2nd half of the course). This time I knew about the wind (although it had picked up some since the first loop), and was feeling better about my wheels and my ability to ride them on the course. So all that was left was just to go head-down and get 'er done. I had a little scare at the turn-around when I started heading back to town and had a headwind. WTH??? If I was going to have to battle the wind both ways, I would lay down and cry right there! Fortunately it was short-lived on a section that curved in the other direction. As soon as the road curved back, my friend the tail-wind re-appeared and ushered us back toward town.

NUTRITION

This was the only sticky spot of the whole bike ride. My stomach was playing not-very-nice, which gave me a little frisson of fear for what was coming on the run. I felt slightly queasy on and off through most of the bike. I was very grateful that I had a solid and well-rehearsed nutrition plan. I had a 6-hour bottle of very concentrated Infinit in my Speedfil on the bike frame. It was like drinking sludge, but Infinit's ability to customize your drink formula let me dial the flavoring way way down, so it didn't taste bad at all. I had water in my Torhans 30 bottle on the front, and made use of the aid stations to grab a bottle and refill on the fly. I'd never done that before, and was happy with how easily it worked. I could grab one early, dump it in, and toss it to the side before leaving the aid station area. Slick! Other than that, I took a Bonk Breaker bar with me for 2 hours into the ride, and one more for 4 hours in. I had other fun stuff to eat like Sport Beans, but with my stomach acting up I decided to stick to a very simple plan and give it very little to have to work on digesting.

So far so good, everything I put in stayed down. I had to pee a few times so I knew my hydration was fine. I decided to stuff my arm-warmers in my back pocket and not stop for my special needs bag. That saved me a few moments of having to get off the bike.

PACING

The night before the race, I gave Wayne a piece of paper with my estimated split times - where I would come by his spot on the Hwy 95 overpass. I based this on a pretty conservative estimate, given what I was feeling like this week. I had hoped I could go faster than this, but 'twas not to be. On my sheet, I predicted that I would go past him for the last time at 7:50, and it was actually 7:49 and change. Pretty darned close. One thing I know is that I'm good at estimating what my body can do in any given circumstance. I played the bike pretty darn conservatively, but at this point I figured that was the best thing I could do to set myself up for being able to actually run the marathon. In retrospect, I'm happy with the way my bike went. I think if I'd pushed it harder, I could've looked at a DNF either on the bike, or later on the run. So although I'd like to see a faster split sometime in the future, this is what I could accomplish on this day.

RACE REPORT: Ironman Coeur d'Alene: Part 2 - The Swim

How can you describe the swim start of Ironman Coeur d'Alene to someone who hasn't been there? Two-thousand athletes, shoulder-to-shoulder. A narrow stretch of sand. Two thousand hands hovering above the buttons on their watches. Without warning, a cannon fires. Two thousand voices collectively say "Oh shit!", press the start button on their wrist. Two thousand tiny beeps emit as we start running toward the water. The word "terrified" doesn't begin to cover the emotion of the moment.

In this life, some luck gets handed to you, and some you make happen. In this swim start, the luck that got handed to me was from an experienced CdA athlete from Endurance Nation who told us about "the pole position". You see, there's this big telephone-pole-like thing sticking up from the water about halfway down the beach. Naturally, no-one wants to swim into it. So people don't like to line up behind it, and when they start swimming they give it a wide berth. I lined up right behind it.

The luck that I made happen was that I turned to the people around me and asked them if they were all in the correct section of the beach. I told them that this was the "nice people zone" and that everyone standing there was going to be kind to their neighbors during the swim. I said we would be swimming under an aura of rainbows and unicorns. I believe that when you plant an idea like that, it takes on a life of its own. The people around me were smiling, and as the "oh shit" moment arrived and we ran into the water, they really were quite nice.

I aimed right for the pole, with the intention of skimming just beside it on the left side. This is where my straight swimming skills come into play because fortunately I didn't run into it and knock myself unconscious. As predicted, other swimmers gave it a wide berth and so it was that just after the photo taken above, I found myself in a giant bubble of clear water for the first 150 or so yards of the IMCdA swim start. Not a bad way to begin!

Soon though, I saw to my right a converging mass of humanity, all of whom unfortunately seemed to be still swimming my speed. I know for a fact that almost none of them would be swimming my speed at the end of 2.4 miles. I know this because only 98 other people did just that. But the several hundred folks around me all felt that this was their pace, and so it was up to me to keep up with the blistering charade until they all petered out somewhere around the point where they said to themselves "Shit, I'm really out of breath, I ought to slow down before I expire out here in the lake!"

This was about the time that I took a hard blow to the head, Rocky Balboa style (can you imagine the water flying in slow-mo away from my swimming face?). This was also about the time that the first of the wind-inspired whitecaps reared its ugly head. Now I'm not saying that this swim was any IMSG 2012 or anything, or even as bad as IMFL when I did it in 2006, but the chop was formidable. I took in a nice big mouthful of lakewater after the headshot and boom! Panic set in just like that. Frantically I took a breaststroke. Big mistake! People in back of me, not appreciative, kept on swimming right over the top of me. Only thing to do was to go head-down, swallow the lake water, and as Dory says, keep on swimming.

After that, it was just battle-the-chop for a view of the buoy, head down and swim, battle-the-chop, head down and swim. Rinse, repeat. Fortunately, I got some big patches of clear water along the way, mixed with times where I was shoulder-to-shoulder. After we turned the 2nd buoy and headed back for shore, the waves were coming from behind us now and it almost felt like body surfing in. Swam right up to the beach, jumped out and ran through the timing gate. 29 minutes. Nice! Run back into the water and head out for round two.

The second time around was better, and worse. Better because there were far fewer people around me. Worse because the wind picked up and that meant the waves were worse. Sighting was pretty much a joke, but I could see there were bright colored swim caps in front of me so that was probably the right direction to be going. Through the entire second lap, I had two swimmers flanking me, probably pacing off of me - one off of my left shoulder and one off of my right. At first I was a bit annoyed, but then I realized that these were my guardian angels. As long as they were there, no one could run into me. That made me smile and I enjoyed the second lap with my angels in place. Wayne got this shot of me swimming with my two angels, me in the pink cap and them in green. Isn't this awesome??

By this time though we were starting to overtake the swimmers who were still on their 1st lap. These are the dangerous people: the zig-zaggers, the breast-strokers, the panicked flailers. A kayak zoomed in front of us towards someone in trouble and we almost ran into it. Halfway to the beach heading straight in and a swimmer came out of left field swimming perpendicular to our course. I have no idea where they were headed but it wasn't remotely in the right direction. We wove around the obstacle course of the first lap swimmers and with the wind (and choppy waves) at my back, I realized that the part of the day I love the most (minus the Rocky Balboa part) was rapidly coming to a close. Oh when will they start the Ironman with a 10k swim? Sigh.

That was it for me. 1:01:47, 98th person out of the water. Not as fast as I had hoped, but with the wind, waves, and mob, I was happy with that!

Then it was on to being gloriously spoiled by the race volunteers. Lay down, let them peel your wetsuit off. Someone else goes and finds your bag. One of the best things about being one of the fastest women swimmers is that the changing tent is pretty empty when you get there. I got my pick of chairs and volunteers and I got a good one. If I knew her name, I'd say a big thank you! My transition bag had exactly what I needed and no more, I went through my items just as I had practiced, although I dithered over whether or not to put on the arm warmers or not. My volunteer said "it's pretty chilly out there, better take them", Thank You O Wise Volunteer! I was very glad to have them when I got out on the course.

As I mounted my bike, I saw Asa and Wayne right at the bike exit yelling my name. Asa had made bright blue shirts that said "Team Robin, go Ironmom!" and that girl has some theatrical lungs on her so they weren't hard to miss. I was so happy to see them sending me on my way, out onto the prettiest part of the Coeur d'Alene course.

Next Up: The Bike!

RACE REPORT: Ironman Coeur d'Alene: Part 1

It's hard to write up a race report immediately after an event for me. I have to let my thoughts about it percolate for awhile and allow all of the memories of the week and the day to drift to the surface. Like any difficult endeavor, Ironman demands a lot out of your body and your mind on race day, and I want to make sure I'm faithful to what happened and not to my immediate impressions. Yes, I know this is way too long, but Ironman is more than just race day so I've divided it up into a couple of sections. Today's installment tells the story of my Ironman pre-race week...

TRAVEL PLANS

Our original plan was to drive to Coeur d'Alene on Monday, allowing for some time to visit my step-sons and their wives and to sight-see with the kids. Also to have a relaxed time in Coeur d'Alene with plenty of days to get everything done.

What Really Happened:

I got food poisoning on Monday. Really really bad food poisoning. I spent about 12 hours throwing up until I was dry-heaving, and the next 24 hours sleeping. I was wrecked! Finally on Wednesday we left for Coeur d'Alene, but packing felt rushed and my stomach felt tender and uncooperative. Thankfully my obsessive need to create checklists for everything saved me, as I literally packed up in a couple of hours, merely checking things off of my lists. If you really want to see my four-page Ironman packing list, here it is.

RACE WEEK PLAN

I had a good taper plan in place, and prior to the food poisoning I felt very refreshed and like my muscles and general fitness were recovering and would be ready to go on race day. So all I needed to do in race week was get some light workouts in and survey the course and transition areas. Also acclimatize myself to the lake and the cold water. I had not run a step in the 4 weeks prior to the race (still re-habbing my knee injury) and planned to keep up the pool running in the hotel and not run until the actual Ironman. Also, so exciting, my online friend Sharon, from TriFuel, was coming into town. I couldn't wait to meet her!!!

What Really Happened:

Most of race week went as I had hoped with a couple of exceptions:

Anxiety Point #1: My stomach still sucked. I needed to be fueling, and all I could manage to eat were mashed potatoes and milk shakes. I ate as many of those as I could. Hotel breakfast was great because they had some good oatmeal. I was worried though - how would my stomach fair under the incredible stress of race day if it couldn't digest normal food now? For those of you who have never done an Ironman, one of the things that makes it vastly different from other races like marathons or half-Ironmans is that nutrition becomes one of the make-or-break items of the day. Somewhere after 5 or 6 hours of racing, your stomach gets really grouchy and it can turn on you in an instant. Managing your food and fluid intake become critical, because nobody can do an 11, 12, 13, 17 hour race on sub-par nutrition or a recalcitrant stomach.

Anxiety Point #2: When I did my bike recon of The Big Hill, I wasn't too concerned with the uphill portion, I just wanted to try out my race wheels on the big downhill. What happened next frankly terrified me. As I reached 30 mph, I developed a speed wobble on the front wheel that threatened to turn into a death wobble. I braked to a stop. Started up again, same thing happened. Oh no. What would I do on race day? I couldn't keep pulling to the side of the road! I took my bike into the Athlete's Village bike shop and they assured me there was nothing wrong with either of my race wheels. I was hoping it was just the proximity of the cars and trucks whooshing by on the highway and the gusty winds that made the disc and the aero wheel so skittish. They wouldn't be there on race day, so I would be fine. Right?

Thursday dawned, and it was time to sign in for the race. Later, the kids and Wayne and I took a walk by the lakeshore. I couldn't convince either of the kids that the water was warm enough to swim in. Go figure!

This was also the day Sharon would arrive from Texas. Meeting her was AWESOME and we hit it off immediately. On Friday morning we went down to the race start and got in the water. BRRRR! Much colder than I thought it would be. People with thermometers said 53, and I'd guess that wasn't too far off. Ice-cream headache cold. But the good news was that we swam for 15 minutes, then headed over to the race start area where a large group of triathletes was doing a simulated beach start. I positioned myself right in the front and center, this was my chance to practice my race day strategy. At the signal, we all charged into the water and started swimming. People swarmed around me, but within 400 yards I was out in front of all of them and rounded the first buoy on my own. My strategy worked! Granted, there would be more faster swimmers in the race, but this gave me a lot of confidence going into it. Also, the water didn't seem so bad after warming up and getting out - another confidence booster.

Then came a big confidence shaker: after getting back to my hotel room I felt weak, shaky, and tired. I lay down for a bit and SLEPT FOR 2 1/2 HOURS! Uh oh. My body is nowhere near recovered from everything the food poisoning took out of it. If a half-hour swim does this to me, will I survive the Ironman?

Then Sharon and I biked on the first part of the course. She couldn't stop herself from saying "Wow, this is SO BEAUTIFUL" like a thousand times. Since it basically looks like the scenery here in Oregon, I had honestly forgotten how very beautiful it is. Seeing it through her eyes opened mine up to the beauty as well. Yes, it is one of the most beautiful races in the world, and I was loving it. With the sections through town with all of their crowds, and then these miles of natural wonder, this would be an amazing race.

Friday Night I got to meet up with all of the Endurance Nation teammates who were doing the race, and that was a blast. What an interesting, and knowledgeable group! I couldn't wait to see them on the course. From there, we walked to the athlete meeting, which was in a big tent. All of a sudden the skies opened up in a gigantic gully-washer thunderstorm. The tent literally had a river of water running under our feet. It was amazing. My kids called me to hurry back to the hotel room so we could watch all of the lightning strikes from our room. The rain sheeting down was stupendous, and the forks of lightning striking all around us were awe-inspiring. I simply hoped that the forecasted thunderstorms for race day didn't show up, because as cool as this all was, I did NOT want to be racing in it.

On Saturday, my kids went to Spokane. Asa went to Kristen (my daughter-in-law)'s baby shower (yes, this Ironmom is going to be an Iron Grandma) with the other women from our family. Mackenzie and Wayne went golfing with my step-sons Rick and Rob. After dropping off all of the gear bags and bikes and stuff, Sharon and I just hung out and had fun. We did some pool running and hot-tub sitting. We ate at this amazing pub-distillery called Bardenay. Seriously, if you to go Coeur d'Alene, EAT HERE. Once we discovered this place we never ate anywhere else! We took a little walk or two around the small lake.

At night, Wayne and the kids came back with Rick, Rob, Alicia, and Kristen and we ate a late dinner at Bardenay (again!). Wow, it was so awesome to be surrounded by my family and just having a great time on the night before Ironman. We stayed out a little too late, but honestly it was worth it. I wanted to enjoy this whole experience, and have a great time on race day. I crawled into bed at 10:30 or so, thinking I wouldn't sleep much but... I did! Other than the "what will happen if...." nerves, I felt pretty calm about this race. I knew what was in my control, and what was not. I promised myself not to stress about the stuff that was not, and just keep myself in a place of controlling what I could, and letting the rest be in God's hands.

Next up: Race Day!

Cowntdown to Ironman: 12 Hours: Pitfalls and Possibilities

First of all, let me start this post by saying THANK YOU to everyone who has commented, emailed, facebooked, tweeted, or spoken words of support to me through this process. Even if I've never met you "in real life" (whatever THAT is), your kind and encouraging words mean a lot. I will be thinking of the things you've said and when I have to dig deep they will be there, filling my heart up with strength. And Marv, when the time comes to dig deeper, I will remember your pond and I promise I will dig!

12 hours from now I'll be in the transition area, probably waiting in a porta-potty line before crawling into my wetsuit. This week of preparation has flown by, with some added surprises (like some really really horrible food poisoning on Monday) thrown in for good measure.

So, without further ado, here are the things I'm confident about, and the things that I'm worried about. I'll start with the worries and end on a good note because at this point I need all the happy good thoughts I can get.

Things that will keep me up tonight:

- My stomach:  five days out from a round of food poisoning so violent that I'm surprised I actually still HAVE a stomach lining, my stomach still feels a little bruised and touchy. In normal life, real life, that's not a problem. In an Ironman, a bad stomach can become a real problem. In fact, a stomach can yank you out of a race much faster than a cramping hamstring. I am hoping that all will stay down, food and nutrients will be absorbed, and that this won't be an issue that derails my race tomorrow.

- The downhill: My new race wheels are a bit twitchy on the winds and the downhills. Trying them out on the biggest hill of all, I had to brake constantly to keep them in line. I don't know how much of that was due to the winds from the big cars and trucks screaming by, but I"m mighty nervous about it. Especially since the big downhill will be a "no passing zone" on the course, which means all the Type-A fast triathletes behind me will have to go as slow as I'm going down the hill. I don't think they'll be pleased :-(

- The swim start: Nothing new here. I've been nervous as heck about this since I pulled the trigger and signed up for this race (which notoriously has one of the worst swim starts around). My plan: line up in a good spot, go hard for 400 yards, and hope to find clear water by then.

- The knee: I haven't run in a month. I have been a good girl. I have seen my Physical Therapist and followed her orders. I have done pool running, stretching, and rolling. Whatever my knee gives me at the start of the run will be what I get. I just want it to be enough to finish feeling good. 

Things I feel good about:

My swim: My swimming has been feeling AWESOME lately. I have felt fast, and strong, and comfortable. The water will be cold (54 this morning) but I've been swimming in cold water and I can do this. Other than anxiety about the mosh pit effect of the start, I feel that I will have a good swim.

My bike: I think I have a good handle on bike pacing. I paced my last Ironman bike well, and came off the bike feeling great. My goal is to do the same. For the first hour or so, it will feel incredibly easy, a walk in the park. I will not get amped up hammering up hills. I will do the right thing.

The run: Although yes, I've had the knee problem to contend with, I feel peaceful about the run. It's out of my control. If I can run and run well, I will concentrate on my pacing plan which I practiced a lot. If not and I have to do a lot of walking, that's what I will do. I will run as much as possible and it will be what it will be.

My goals:

I don't really have a time goal for this race, although I would be quite happy to come in under 13 hours. If all goes well - stomach behaves, knee behaves, I pace myself well, that is definitely doable. Because I have so many unknowns, it could also be a much longer day for me out there. Four weeks ago I had more ambitious goals. But I've had to release that like a red balloon on a string and watch it float away. In a way, it's freeing. Since I no longer know what I can do, I no longer have something to whip myself with into a state of anxiety. I feel much calmer about this Ironman than I did at the last one. I have nothing to prove to anyone, and I plan on enjoying the day as much as I can out there.


My predictions:

Swim: Somewhere around an hour, give or take a few
T1: Hopefully well under 10 minutes this time!
Bike: 6:45-ish if all goes well and no unexpected disasters ensue
T2: Again, under 10 minutes
Run: Who the heck knows? Fastest I could possibly run according to predictions in online calculators puts me at 4:35. Probably closer to 5:00. If it gets hot, my stomach shuts down, or my knee goes wonky, it could be 6 or 7 hours.

1:00 + :10 + 6:45 + :10 + 5:00 would be 13:05. If it goes better than that, hooray for me. If it goes worse, it'll be what it'll be. You can track me online on the Ironman Tracker:

http://live.ironmanlive.com/Event/Ironman_Coeur_dAlene

I'm race number 679. Keep the good thoughts coming, pray for an uneventful and safe day for me, and for all the athletes on the course, and I'll see you on the other side of the finish line!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 1: It's Go Time

Whatever is in my body's fitness bank has been deposited, nothing more can be added now. Now it's all about the details - thinking over my race execution, preparing myself mentally, getting together the gear, nutrition, hydration, sunscreen, and everything else I'll need to have a successful day.

I'm in my taper, which means that my body is taking all of that work that I put it through, and using rest to convert it to sheer power and endurance. At least that's how I think of it in my mind. Tapering used to make me crazy and fidgety, but now I just enjoy the feeling of gathering power in my muscles and in my mind.

I don't ask that everything go perfectly (although that would be nice). I simply pray that I am ready for whatever the day has to offer me, and that I may take the time to enjoy the race, the other participants, and the ability that I have to move my body 140.6 miles.

Countdown to Ironman, WEEK 2 (!!!): Lists, lists, more lists

Ironman is about nothing if not Gear. You would think it wouldn't be that different from an ordinary triathlon, which takes a small mountain of gear. But you would be wrong. It takes a large mountain of gear.

For instance, in a regular triathlon (even half-Ironman), you can get away with one stick of Glide (that stuff that makes sure your wetsuit doesn't rub on your neck and your arms and legs don't chafe in the run). But for the Ironman, I'm packing 5 of them (3 regular size, 2 mini). Why? I need one to do my neck, legs, and arms before the swim start. That has to go in my "warm clothes" bag (stuff I'll use before the swim but will have to leave behind - remember, nothing is allowed in the transition area that's not in an official bag or on your bike).

The 2nd Glide will go in my T1 bag, to be used before the bike. The third (a mini) goes in the Bike Special Needs bag, just in case. Fourth is in the T2 bag for use under arms before the run. Then I'll stick a mini in the back of my tri top just in case I encounter chafing on the run. Because of the length of the day and the complexity of having all of your stuff in separate bags, you often need duplicate gear in different places.

You also just need MORE. More food, more drink mix, more sunscreen, more Glide, more spare tubes, more cooling clothes if it's hot, more warming clothes if it's cold. So I've got lists and lists and lists of gear that I need to make sure I own, buy, or borrow, and then pack. At least this time I'm driving, which reduces the complexity of stuffing this all into a suitcase.

With more gear comes more anxiety - what if I forget something? Of course, that's what the piranhas... erm... vendors at the Athlete Village are for: to charge you double or triple for that stupid little thing that's sitting back at home on your bedroom floor or hanging in your closet.

Luckily, since I'm the mom of the busiest kids in the planet, I have no time for panic or anxiety. So I'll just have to make do with general levels of stress and hope for the best.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 3: Race Rehearsal #2

It's almost Go-time here, and so far all is well. My knee seems to be better, though still sore. This week was a big one for training, with yesterday's 7-hour race rehearsal. Just like with RR #1, the idea was to try to nail things like pacing and nutrition so that on race day there's no surprises.

So how did it go? It sucked. It utterly and totally sucked. There were no major suckages - no bad falls, no flat tires, no snow storm. But there were so many minor suckages (see photo of pavement I was riding on, for instance!) that it added up to one big bad long day of Suck. Luckily, the motto of the day is "Embrace the Suck", so as I grumbled my way along, making deals with myself like "If you don't call Wayne to come pick you up right this instant, you can grab some ice cream on the way home" (I did neither, thankfully), I tried to believe that getting through this day would make me stronger in the Ironman to come.

So what went right? All the important stuff went right. Pacing was good. I rode 112 miles with 4800 feet of climbing. My intention was to nail the pacing on the climbs, keeping my heart rate in the Z1 to low-Z2 zone for most of it (for those of you not conversant with heart rate zones, for me that means keeping it under 143 beats per minute. That means going easier on the hills than I normally do, and it felt weird. Since I was wearing everything I'll wear in the race, that means I was all kitted out with my dorky Pointy Helmet of Speed on. So crawling along up the hills, I was really hoping I didn't get passed by the Granny Brigade on mountainbikes or something, it would just be too humiliating. Luck was with me (sort of), the day was too crappy and cold for anyone who is not totally Stoopid or Bat Shit Insane to be out on a bike. Obviously, I fall into one or both of those categories.

Nutrition was good for the most part. I worked my new drink bottle systems (Torhans and Speedfil) and took along a 6-hour mixture of Infinit, which is basically like sugary salty sludge, washing it down with water. I also used some Bonk Breaker bars, which they'll have on the course. The one thing I didn't have with me was anything with CAFFEINE, which as it turns out, I desperately needed. So I stopped at this little roadside store. I wish I'd thought to take a photo of the interior because the shelves were so empty that I thought they were going out of business. As it turns out, they're just on such tough times that they're having trouble ordering inventory. They literally did not have Coke. No Pepsi. Can you imagine a convenience store without these things? I felt so bad for them. They had one Dr. Pepper on the shelf and that was it! So I became a Pepper and glugged 10 oz. just for the caffeine.

Now, what went wrong? Did I mention the weather? How can this be June?? I am having the worst luck training for a June 24 Ironman in the crappiest spring that Oregon has ever brought forth. Actually, an 83 year old lady told me the other day that she had seen one worse spring, probably 50 years ago or so. But this is pretty bad. Rainy. Cold. Bleh. I got chilled down and couldn't seem to warm up much, even on the climbs, which were considerable.

Then there was the pavement. I haven't done this particular ride in several years, and boy howdy the pavement has gone downhill since then. Part of it, which used to be nice pavement, has now been chip-sealed with what looked to be 3/4- gravel. It's basically like riding down a gravel road with a thin layer of baked tar on top. And I remember a good bit of the road being through this lovely forest, but there's a lot of logging going on there right now, and most of it is now clearcuts and stumps. The same trucks that kindly took away the forest also took chunks out of the roads, leaving them looking like the photo above. Later in the ride, I was looking forward to a good chunk of miles on a rails-to-trails bike path, but again the pavement there was far worse than it has been in years past, with tree roots pushing up ridges of asphalt, some of which were big enough to launch me, BMX style, into the air. Kindly, someone had spray painted most of these so at least you could see them coming.

The bottom line was that for much of the ride, I couldn't get above 14 - 16 mph due to road surfaces, which made this ride SO MUCH LONGER than I thought it would be. Combined with the craptastic weather, and three days of poor sleep beforehand, it felt like one giant 7-hour bonkfest with constant vigilance for potholes and tree roots, and chatter from the bad pavement thrown in. By the time I got home, I was utterly and totally depleted. But... I did it. And I am stronger for it. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 4: Paranoia

Ah yes, I remember this phase well. I have officially entered the Ironman Paranoia Zone. That's where you worry about every little thing that could possibly go disastrously wrong, thus wrecking your chances of appearing on the starting line of the Ironman. Witness my continuing battle with the Poison Oak From Hell - it's been three weeks since I contracted this current case. Some people get poison oak like an irritatingly itchy rash. On me, it's more like a deep chemical burn. This is all that's left, but it's still mighty painful, and has landed me in the hospital before. If I got another bad dose, especially someplace like a foot or on my torso, that could literally take me out of the running.

This weekend, moving rocks for our landscaping project (correction: moving boulders), I had repeating visions of a boulder getting loose and coming to land on my foot. There are so many things in this world that could stop you from being able to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, and run 26.2. You really have to be fairly intact to even attempt such a thing. Here's hoping I stay that way for 3.7 more weeks!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 5: Why I've Been Avoiding My Doctor

I have been running for 30 years, and I have never had knee problems, even during these years when I've trained for marathon or Ironman distance races. So frankly, I'm a little pissed off that my knee has turned traitor on me. I shouldn't blame it though, it's not my knee's fault. Nor is it really my fault. Chalk it up to an accident.

It all started a few weeks ago when I went for a bike ride just after getting my new bike. An hour or so out, my back started hurting. Then really hurting. Well, I thought, of course it's hurting. It's a new bike. Although I set it up very similar to my old position, it's going to be slightly different. Then my back hurt worse, and worse, and worse. So I did the sensible thing (for once), I turned around and cut my ride short, heading home. When I got home, I discovered that my seat (which I had adjusted and, I thought, tightened down) had slid backwards on its rails until it was all the way back. Not good. But I still didn't think much of it.

The next day, I went for a two hour run.

An hour later, I was in knee hell, and I haven't gotten out of it since. My best guess is that for an hour or so on that bike ride, while my seat was slid all the way back, I was hyper-extending my knee ninety times a minute. That's usually not a good thing. Now my knee is pissed off at me, and every time I push it, it gets mad.

This is not good when you're five weeks out from an Ironman.

The best thing would be to go to a doctor. But then the doctor might tell you something you don't want to hear. Something like "Don't keep training for an Ironman, stupid. Spend the next five weeks resting your knee instead." Surely, ignorance is better than that. Except that the knee didn't stop hurting.

So today I went to the doctor. He took some X-rays.

And thankfully told me that nothing is seriously wrong with my knee. I haven't torn any meniscus, haven't blown any bursa, haven't decimated any cartilage. In fact, my knees, and the nice thick bones and cartilage surrounding them look quite robust and healthy, especially considering the 30 years of running I've put on them. I have just irritated some tendon/ligament attachment points. Of course, the doctor did say that training really really hard for an Ironman right now is probably not the best thing I could be doing.

But he didn't tell me I had to stop.

I'll count that as permission. Basically, he said "let your pain and discomfort be your guide". If I had gotten in to see my regular doctor, he'd probably know better than to say that. Because what's a little pain when you've got an Ironman to finish? But seriously, I am going to take it easier, going to throw a light training week in this week and do my best to rest, ice, stretch, massage, and baby my knee so it stops being mad at me and cooperates, at least through 140.6. Then it can have a nice vacation!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 6: Race Rehearsal

This post is a bit late in coming (it's a miracle I get on my computer at all, between training, eating, sleeping, and oh yeah taking care of the kids, house, and animals...). Last weekend I did my first "race rehearsal" where I practiced my pacing and nutrition strategies, as well as tried out clothing and gear that I'll be using on race day. If you're doing a longer race, this is absolutely essential, since that drink mix that you like so well on one-hour rides might make you gag at five hours in, and those shorts that seem just perfect have this seam that makes your life miserable after a hundred miles have gone by.

In this race rehearsal, I biked 104 miles in 6 hours, and then ran for an hour. I used the Infinit and Bonk Breaker Bars that I'm planning on using on the course, and wore my favorite pair of thin-chamois tri shorts to see how I'd hold out in them. It was a gorgeous day to be out in the Willamette Valley on a bike, as you can see from tbjs photo from my phone!

I started off the night before with a 4200 yard swim. For Ironman Coeur d'Alene, my swim strategy is going to be (for the first time ever) to put myself up front with the big dogs and go for it. So in my rehearsal swims, I'm trying to go out hard, then back down and find my distance pace and settle in after the first 500 yards or so. That strategy played out in this swim with 1000 yard splits as 13:51, 14:05, 14:17, 14:14. Last 200 was a 2:42. Total: 59:09. My goal for IMCdA is sub-1:00, so this was perfect.

The next morning I was out on the road for the 104 mile ride. Though I didn't have quite as much climbing in this course as there will be in Coeur d'Alene (2700 feet as opposed to 4600), otherwise the terrain was similar, with rolling hills and a couple of big climbs. I made sure to put in a thousand foot climb in the last few miles, just like the real race will have. That was definitely a booger to do at the end of the ride! Overall average was 17 mph, including the starts and stops through town. Probably closer to 17.5 outside of town. Since I'm shooting for somewhere between 6:20 - 7:00 on race day, 17 mph would put me at 6:35 or right in my ballpark. Granted, there are more hills at CdA. However, I'll also have race wheels and aero helmet and my legs will (hopefully!) be fresh. And no stoplights. So hopefully that will all balance out.

For nutrition on the ride, I mixed up two 3-hour bottles of Infinit, plus I ate two Bonk Breaker bars. My calories averaged out to 265 an hour, probably a little high. I'm going to aim for slightly lower to make sure I don't get sidelined by gastric distress.

After the ride, it was time for some work on my run pacing, so I ran six miles at the pace I'm shooting for in the race. My predicted IM pace is 10:22 (if all the stars align and it isn't smoking hot outside), which means I'm aiming to add 30 seconds per mile for the first six miles, making a 10:52 pace. I have to say, it's hard to run that slow, so I'm adding some walking breaks to make sure I don't overamp those early miles. This is all part of the Endurance Nation pacing strategy that I'm following.

My first mile was 10:07 - Eeep! Way too fast. After that I brought them back down to 10:35, 10:50, 10:44, 10:49, 10:48. You can see that even though I thought I was running WAY slow, I was still faster than my pace should've been. And one look at a heat calculator for running paces shows that if it's at all warm on race day, I'll be running wayyyyy slower than that!

Still, all things considered, I'd say the day was a success. If everything goes absolutely perfectly, I could be looking at a 1:00 swim, 6:30 bike and 4:30 run, or right around 12:10 - 12:15 with transitions. If there's wind, heat, mechanical, or other problems, I'll probably be closer to 13:00 or over. In any case, I'm starting to have a good estimate of where my ballpark is at. Maybe not as fast as I hoped I'd be this year, but still feeling strong and ready to go.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 7: Riding the new IMCdA Bike Course!

As Ironman Coeur d'Alene creeps ever closer, I was hoping I would get a chance to take a look at the new bike course before seeing it on race day. Fortunately, my step-sons both live in Spokane, a hop-skip-jump from Coeur d'Alene, and so we combined a family weekend of BBQs and fun with family with some time for me to take Pinkalicious out on the course and see first-hand what was in store for us.

The day I chose to ride the course, Saturday, was not especially promising, weather-wise. It dropped to 35 degrees that night, and was still a chilly 42 when I set off in the morning. On top of that, the big wind storm that wreaked havoc on the poor Ironman St. George participants seemed to be blowing up through Idaho as well. The winds were howling, the lake had 1 - 2 foot whitecaps, and I was very glad that I wasn't actually racing, but just checking out the course.

First I rode down the Lake Drive that constitutes the first part of the course. I had already seen this on the Computrainer Ironman course, but it was far prettier first-hand. I tried to picture my ride through town on this quiet Saturday morning the way it will look on race day, streets lined with cheering mobs. A thrill of excitement and goosebumps, not to mention a little lurch of the stomach shot through me as a small echo of the race day nerves to come. Then, after moseying along the small roller hills of the lakeshore drive, I headed back through town and out onto the newly added course on Hwy 95. I had no idea of what to expect here, and to be honest I was not thrilled about riding on a highway with all of those cars whizzing past.

As it turned out, the ride is quite scenic, and I think on race day when we'll get a couple of lanes of traffic all to ourselves, it will be very beautiful. To ride the course right now, you have to stay on the shoulder, which means contending with a serious rumble strip. These are very hazardous to cyclists, especially those of us on thin tires with squirrely aerobars to contend with. Throw in some wickedly gusting winds, and you have a bit of a nerve-wracking ride on your hands. Still, in most places the shoulder was very wide, leaving me lots of room to avoid the dangerous strip. And the good news was that motorists were not likely to casually venture onto the shoulder and strike me, since the rumble strip would quickly alert them to any detours from their lane into mine.

So, on to the question that's probably on everyone's mind who will be riding the new course: What about the hills? To be honest, the first one is pretty intimidating when you look at it, especially if you look UP and see the road winding way above where you are now (later on, you'll get to look DOWN into this amazing valley below you and wonder that you managed to pedal your way so high). The good news is that because you're on a highway, the grade is very gentle. It probably tops out at about 6%. On race day, this could make these hills seem deceptively easy. I rarely got into my lowest gear, and I don't currently have a compact crank on my bike. So it would be easy to overbake these hills on race day by a few watts here and there, and enter T2 with considerably less gas in your tank than you counted on. I filed this away in my mental notebook for race day: stay within my zones on the hills and you'll be fine. For me, riding the hills put my mind at ease. There's nothing here that I don't ride a thousand times in the hills behind my house. I can tell myself  "It's just another hilly ride, take it easy and enjoy the scenery."

And on this particular ride, the hills took a big backseat to the wind. I literally would be winding my way up a hill, reach the flat part at the crest and get hit by a wall of wind so stiff that it made me gear DOWN from the gear I was climbing the hill in. I had to pedal harder on the flats and even the downhills than I did on the uphills. This had the effect of making the whole first half of the Hwy 95 portion into an effective 20 mile uphill grind. Somehow I think on race day it might feel a whole lot easier (if we don't get an IMSG-style windstorm, that is).

All in all, my take on the new course is:

Hills: not too terrible.

Technical: None. All of the sharp turns of the old course are gone. You'll want to be comfortable with screaming down a couple miles of 6% grade at 45 mph+ though.

Highway: Rideable for people who want to check it out before race day

Scenery: Top Notch. Green valleys, horse pastures, rolling hills, big clouds scudding across an impossibly blue sky. Glimpses of the lake in the distance. What's not to love?

Old Part of the course: Fun, with cheering sections in the city, and beautiful lakeshore views outside of town. A couple of rollers will warm you up in the first 15 miles.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 8: Goin' Long

It's get-down-to-business time here in Ironman training world and the open road beckons. Which explains why, despite the fact that I have a million great blog posts running around in my mind (including one on kicking in the swim and some other stuff), I haven't written a thing since last week. That, my friends, is what an 18 hour training week will do to you. Coupled with eight or more hours of sleep a night (mandatory) and more time with eating and food prep (can't avoid that!), means that I hardly see my good friend the computer anymore. Facebook, what's that? Tweeting, is that what the birds are doing outside my bedroom window when I'm trying to sleep in? Posts, aren't those what holds your bike seat up?

But for anyone who is keeping score at home, the training is going well. I got a nice four hour ride on Pinkalicious on a sunny day this weekend, and today I knocked off a two-hour long run where I worked solely on pacing for the Ironman run. You know what? It feels REALLY stupid to go jogging along at my s-l-o-w Ironman pace here on Eugene's running trails, meanwhile world class athletes getting ready for the Olympic trials are blowing past me right and left. Where's a good "I'M TRAINING FOR AN IRONMAN" shirt when you need it? At least they'd know I was purposefully shuffling along for a good reason.

This weekend we will be heading off to Spokane and Coeur d'Alene to visit my step-sons and on Sunday I will get a chance to ride at least some of the Ironman course. Then I'll really know what I've signed up for. 

Countdown to Ironman, Week 9: Albany Sprint Triathlon

How do I do this again?? The first race of the season is always a rust-blower, but this year it definitely felt more awkward than usual, owing to last summer's broken arm and lack of a triathlon season. I had to scramble to assemble all of my triathlon gear from wherever it had gotten to in the last two years.

Thankfully, like riding a bike, it all comes back the second you start setting up your transition area. It didn't hurt that we had one of the first truly glorious days of the year with sunshine and warm temperatures beaming down on us. Several of my Aquaducks teammates did the race, and it was nice to ride up to Albany with friends and encourage each other.

I decided to ride my new bike (of course!) even though I'm still messing around with the fit. That turned out to be a great decision as I got to see how really fast she is! This was my fastest bike split in years, turning a 34:08 for the 12.5 miles, or a bit over 21 mph. I didn't get my swim split until the end of transition, but it totaled 13:20, so I'm guessing somewhere in the 11:30 range. And my run was a disappointing 27:30, but then given my lack of running over the last six weeks, I guess that's to be expected.

All in all, a 1:16:22 was my 2nd fastest Sprint Tri finish in the last 10 years, and good enough for 2nd in age group and 4th overall. Even better, all of the Aquaducks did amazing, turning in strong times and in almost every case an Age Group placing! Most inspiring to me was one of our swimmers, who not only beat everyone in her own age group (60 - 65, which I could not believe as she looks so much younger) but also beat everyone in the 50 - 54 and 55 - 59 groups as well.

One thing I absolutely loved about this race was just how pretty the course was. The bike went out through the countryside around Albany, and it was like a series of postcards: Red barn with brown calves blinking in the morning sunshine. An old windmill turning beside an oak tree in a pasture. White sheep and lambs in an impossibly green field. A tree bloomed out all in pink. Although I was working hard on the bike, I could still take in these beautiful sights along the way and my heart just sang through the course. The run course went through a park and on a bike path, with only one section on a road with traffic. Thankfully, the day did not feel as hot as I feared it might (after all of our cool weather) and the sun felt good as I ran.

Next week: building up the bike and run mileage as we hit the homestretch toward IMCdA!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 10: My Bike Gets Revenge

Ever since I started test-riding other tri-bikes, my bike has been mad at me. Then it started getting revenge on me. The chain keeps jumping off. The brake started rubbing. The handlebars got loose. It's like it's trying to kill me. Honestly, this bike has been so completely reliable for 8 years that I've never had to worry about it, and now I fear for my life every time I ride the thing! I can't wait for my new bike to get here.

Besides fearing for my life, I'm starting to fear for my Ironman. I did something scary yesterday: I  looked at my training logs from my last Ironman. You know, the one where I got to train in the summertime when the weather was good and I had motivation to be outside. Yeah, so by this time in my training cycle, I was regularly doing six hour bike rides (I've topped out at three so far this year) and three hour runs (I'm currently at 1.5 for my max). I am starting to worry about how bad this will all hurt if it hurt THAT MUCH last time and I was twice as well trained and six years younger to boot.

So here's hoping that the new bike is perfect, that I'll instantly leap on it and not only be able to ride for hours and hours but that its new perfect aerodynamic shape will make up for all that training I haven't been doing (hey, I can dream).

Countdown to Ironman, Week 11: Bike Shopping

I have now been a triathlete since 1986, and in that 26 (gulp!!) year span of time I have had just three bikes. I loved each of them in their own way.

My first, a steel Peugeot that was solid and steady, probably only had about 12 gears but it got the job done. I toured on that bike, raced on it, rode up my very first big hill, my first sprint and Oly distance races, and my first 50 mile day. When I finally upgraded to my first real "tri" bike, I kept it and loaned it to friends for their first triathlons, and to a teenager who did his first bike tour on it. It was a trusty steed that saw decades of service.

By 1990, I was a serious young triathlete. So when the Giant Cadex came out with that there new-fangled carbon frame stuff, and those gigantic Scott DH aerobars, well I just had to have me some of that brand new technology. Yes, I've been riding on aerobars for over 20 years now. No wonder my neck has a permanent crick in it! Wow, just look at the size of those enormous bars! And the round back in my rather upright aero position. Ah well, it took me to some of my first victories and gave me a decade of triathlon memories.

Then, in an extremely Blonde Moment, I inadvertantly drove into my garage with my bike still on the roof of the van. Whoops. That was the end of one carbon Giant frame. For a season, I was reduced to riding hubby's steel Bianchi touring bike with clip-one aero bars. Not the most comfortable or fastest ride, and it's my least-favorite shade of yellow. But it let me carry on. Luckily, my homeowner's insurance chipped in on a new ride, so I went bike shopping and ended up with my next beauty.

This was my current bike, my Quintana Roo Picanti, a titanium-framed tri bike that came out when they merged with Litespeed. When I started shopping, I thought I would be getting the Cervelo P2, which was the talk of the town at that point. But when I rode it, I hated it. And after test-riding seven or eight different bikes, I got on the QR and loved it. It's not the most aero frame, doesn't have a flashy paint job, and isn't the sexiest bike in town. But it fit my odd frame (long legs, short torso) just right, was comfortable, and made short work of the 112 miles of my first Ironman.

Being a mom of two kids who are happily into all sorts of money-sucking endeavors (a million dance classes, camps, sports, and activities), I don't get the chance to upgrade my hardware all that often. And I haven't wanted to spend the money until I saw that bikes had made another large qualitative leap forward in technology. But I think that day has finally arrived. The new generations of frames are considerably different than what I'm riding, and it was time to start thinking about what I wanted to ride next. I resolved to start selling off some of my old toys that I no longer use (two motorcycles gathering dust in the garage, three parachute rigs in the closet) and use the money for a two-wheeled speed demon.

So I did my research, and headed to my local bike store to ride what's available around here, then took a road trip to Portland to hit up the triathlon stores and get a wider variety of brands to ride. All in all, I looked at seven different bikes by Specialized, Felt, BMC, Argon, Quintana Roo, Scott, and Cervelo, all in the Ultegra price range ($3000 - $3500).  What did I think of each of these bikes? What two made the final cut? And which one will I be riding next week? Stay tuned!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 12: Fit Enough To Train

A happy but unexciting post for the day: Today marks the start of my official training plan in the final build to the Ironman in June. Luckily, with the help of my chiropractor, and taking some time off of everything, I do feel well enough to begin training harder and longer. Last week I decided to run very little - just a few 30 minute sessions, nothing to set my back off again. That strategy seems to have been a good one, as everything feels fine for now. Instead, I put in six hours on my bike (unfortunately still on the trainer as it is pouring rain outside) and tried to bank up some bike time. This weekend has a scheduled 3.5 and 3 hour rides. Eep! I've done one 2:45 ride and that's my longest so far, so I think I can survive it. Onwards and upwards!

Countdown to Ironman, Week 13: Who Would I Save From The Towering Inferno?

I joke about this: If there was a burning building with all the people in the world in it, I'd save my family first, and then I would save my chiropractor. He's that good. Okay, I'd run in for my friends too, you know I would. But seriously, my chiropractor's like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, putting the stuffing back into the Scarecrow (me).

After seeing him twice this week, I'm feeling pretty nearly human. After the first time, I was able to stand and walk without pain for the first time in two weeks. After the second time, I could get on my bike again - 2 hours today. Running is still iffy, so I'm hoping that the third time's a charm and I'm seeing him next Monday.

Other than that, there's not much to report. I'm swimming a lot, because I can. The weather still sucks so I don't miss running as much as I would if it was sunny. And I'm still indoors on the bike trainer although I would love to start getting outside! Maybe it will all magically come together next week when I hit that 12-Weeks-To-Ironman moment and start "training for real". Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 14: Damaged, Discouraged, and Depressed

It's raining. For the next ten days at least. And cold. And raining. And my back is not only not better, it's worse. A massage yesterday did nothing to help. Some time every day in the hot tub at the club isn't cutting it either. I'm supposed to spend next week as a "big bike week" doing tons of bike mileage, and I can't even sit up in a chair for an hour without my back killing me. That terrible fear that my injury will take too much time out of training and I won't get enough miles in before Ironman keeps lurking at the back of my mind.

And did I mention it's raining? And cold?

I normally get the post-vacation blues when coming back to the soggy NorthWet in the wintertime, but this is a thousand times worse. I need to go read over some of my old posts where I actually have a good attitude, and kick my mental butt back into shape. That is all.

Countdown to Ironman, Week 15: Hawaii 5-0, or is that Hawaii 4-6??

We've been here in Hawaii just a bit over a week. Sure, it's vacation, and it's been great to just be able to swim out in the ocean most days, except for two when the flooded rivers dumped a ton of yucky mud into the ocean and made it more or less unswimmable. But mostly I've been using this time to do a run focus, ramping up my running mileage to 34 miles in the last week, which is about double what I've been running. Unfortunately, I should've thought to bring something other than my Vibram Five Fingers along, since all of the running is on pavement and I'm not used to cranking out that many miles on hard surfaces without any cushioning. 

Fortunately for me, my feet have taken the challenge well, and I haven't had any problems running all that mileage in the Five Fingers. My only hitch while exercising here is that I hurt my back surfing a few days ago, I bailed off of a wave when another surfer and I were on a collision course, and while my body was twisting one direction, the wave sent my torso in another. Ouch. I probably wouldn't even have noticed it at 25 years old, the last time I surfed, over two decades ago! But now at almost 46, yeah, I notice. My back has been sore and tight since, but fortunately hasn't bothered me while running.

But that just brings me to yet another one of those "this is why I train" moments. How cool is it to be able to just get on a surfboard on the North Shore of O'ahu (granted, not during the winter big wave months) and have the strength, flexibility, balance, and stamina to surf for 2.5 hours?? When you train your body in all-around fitness, not just endurance  but all of those other components as well, you can go out and do whatever it is that you want to do. And right now, with the crystal clear waters and reefs right off of our balcony, that looks like an hour or two of snorkeling...hang loose.