I love summer!!!
15 years ago
Saturday, August 22, 2009
THE RUN!
A cute little old lady helped me get situated for the run, and didn't even bat an eye as I smeared Bodyglide on various sensitive areas. She had obviously been around the athletes all day! I donned my race belt, a long-sleeved top, shoes, socks, and a hat, and hit the road.
Holy gimpy, I was not moving fast. Within a couple miles I had nasty heartburn again any time I ran, so I ran/walked to keep things from getting to the point of vomiting. I'm not good at only puking once, and I was afraid that if I started I wouldn't be able to stop. Enter the power-walker.
It took forever. It was raining, and windy, and cold. I stopped to pee about a billion times. At first I was doing the civilized thing and getting undressed in the bathrooms, but after a while I decided that was a waste of time and just peed through my shorts. It was raining any way. Coming back in from my first loop someone gave me a space blanket, which I wore like a super-stylish silver cape. The Coke and pretzels and cookies went down well. The broth did not, something about the broth smell mixed with the styrofoam smell was no bueno. I saw my dad and brother a little before the half way point. It had been a while since I had eaten and I burst into tears, telling my dad I was SURE my foot was broken (because absolutely everything hurt at this point, my feet especially). He told me he understood, but he really didn't think it was broken, and he thought I should eat something. Of course I told him I was NOT hungry!!! Then I went and ate a bunch. At one of the aid stations I was ambushed by a mother/daughter volunteer team, who removed my poncho, cut a hole in it for my head, and put it and another plastic poncho over my head. They used my race belt to strap it all down, and sent me on my way with a hand-full of cookies.
The next time I saw my dad I was all smiles, and walking fast enough that they couldn't easily catch up with me. They might think I'm bi-polar.
After I saw them I got to the long, lonely part of the run, which runs alongside the lake. There are fewer spectators there, and it felt like forever. Just as it started to get dark I saw a guy walking past me in the opposite direction that looked a lot like Elliott. I was confused, as I was sure he would have been done by then. I turned around looked again, and he was wearing cargo shorts and carrying car keys, and was walking with a healthy limp - it WAS him! I called his name and he hobbled over, very happy to see me. Apparently my family and my friends weren't communicating well, so no one knew my dad had just seen me. Elliott had driven out to the turn around point to look for me. New boy had been tracking me online and it had been a long time since any updates were posted, so he was calling people in a panic. Elliott called him to say that he had found me, we talked for a bit, I told him Ironman was stupid, all while I continued my power walk/hobble. Once I reached the turn around and was headed toward the finish (albeit about 5 miles away) Elliott left me in the dark so he could pick up his wife and meet me at the finish. I fell in with a group of people that were walking and jogging, and stayed with them for about a mile before I decided they were going too slow. I was given glow sticks to wear because it was dark. They set off my plastic attire quite nicely.
About a mile from the finish, in the twisty little neighborhood, my brother found me. He and my dad had figured I would be there soon, so he started at the finish and started walking the course backward to come in with me. I apologized for keeping him out there ALL day, and he told me to shut-up, and that he was proud of me. It was awesome. He convinced me to run down to the finish. I did, until the huge blister I had been brewing exploded between my big and next-biggest toe and I almost fell down. Scared the crap out of my brother!
I re-evaluated my running-to-the-finish plan and only ran the last block. Someone suggested I take all the plastic off. I was too lazy. In retrospect, I would have had much better pictures had I listened.
The finish chute was AMAZING. It was 11pm and there were still hundreds of people sitting in the bleachers, cheering for the finishers. The noise was overwhelming. People were hanging over the sides, reaching out to high-five, and going nuts. So unbelievably awesome.
Once I crossed the line, a woman escorted to the chip removal, medal giving, and picture taking stations. I removed my plastic for that picture. Elliott and his wife, Greg and his family, and my family were all there to watch me finish. So cool. Elliott took me to the massage tent where they had a heater(!) and pizza. The massage sucked and my stomach couldn't handle the pizza, but it was good to get off my feel for a minute.
I about froze when I came out of the heated tent and made my brother give me his jacket. Poor kid. He and I went to get my bags and bike while my dad got the car. I got a painfully violent case of the hiccups while we drove to the house.
My room was upstairs. So not cool. I took a shower and climbed in bed, only to sleep like crap because moving hurt. I woke up at 6 am. Elliott was already up. Ironman does weird things to sleep. We packed up and picked up various bits and pieces, went to the awards because Elliott had done a 9:42 which was good for third in his AG and a Kona slot. I dropped off my rental car, tried to figure out a way to use my rolly suitcase for locomotion through the airport, and got on my first plane. The guy next to me was creepy, but I fell asleep before we took off. When we were leaving the plane he told me to go first (to stare at my ass? I don't know), I told him it would take forever.
Him: Wow, you're really limping! *sarcastically* What, did you do the Ironman or something? *sneer*
Me: Yes.
Him: Oh! *looks like he realizes he's an ass* Holy crap!
Douche.
I limped around the Seattle airport and ate crappy airport food until my next flight. New boy was picking me up from the airport, which I was excited about. I hobbled off the plane and hit the bathroom, finally making it out to where he was waiting, WITH A SIGN! No one has ever made me a sign! It was a good one too! I'll have to post it for you.
He was disappointed I took so long getting off the plane because he wanted to embarrass me in front of a bunch of people. Ha! Too bad for him, all the people were gone!
The next day at work, while Elliott and I compared how swollen our bodies and feet were, flowers and balloons were delivered to the shop. From new boy. While he was there.
He gets soooooo many brownie points.
Later a second bouquet showed up from my dad and step mom. I love my people.
****************************************
It seems I have finally made it out of my Iron-funk and the race it starting to be a good experience in my mind. There are so many things I can do better next time. I'm going to work on getting fast before I try to go that long again though.
The rest of this year will be XTERRA and half irons, and next year will probably be the same.
Coming soon, XTERRA Portland race report!
Woo hoo! The computer didn't crash!
Holy gimpy, I was not moving fast. Within a couple miles I had nasty heartburn again any time I ran, so I ran/walked to keep things from getting to the point of vomiting. I'm not good at only puking once, and I was afraid that if I started I wouldn't be able to stop. Enter the power-walker.
It took forever. It was raining, and windy, and cold. I stopped to pee about a billion times. At first I was doing the civilized thing and getting undressed in the bathrooms, but after a while I decided that was a waste of time and just peed through my shorts. It was raining any way. Coming back in from my first loop someone gave me a space blanket, which I wore like a super-stylish silver cape. The Coke and pretzels and cookies went down well. The broth did not, something about the broth smell mixed with the styrofoam smell was no bueno. I saw my dad and brother a little before the half way point. It had been a while since I had eaten and I burst into tears, telling my dad I was SURE my foot was broken (because absolutely everything hurt at this point, my feet especially). He told me he understood, but he really didn't think it was broken, and he thought I should eat something. Of course I told him I was NOT hungry!!! Then I went and ate a bunch. At one of the aid stations I was ambushed by a mother/daughter volunteer team, who removed my poncho, cut a hole in it for my head, and put it and another plastic poncho over my head. They used my race belt to strap it all down, and sent me on my way with a hand-full of cookies.
The next time I saw my dad I was all smiles, and walking fast enough that they couldn't easily catch up with me. They might think I'm bi-polar.
After I saw them I got to the long, lonely part of the run, which runs alongside the lake. There are fewer spectators there, and it felt like forever. Just as it started to get dark I saw a guy walking past me in the opposite direction that looked a lot like Elliott. I was confused, as I was sure he would have been done by then. I turned around looked again, and he was wearing cargo shorts and carrying car keys, and was walking with a healthy limp - it WAS him! I called his name and he hobbled over, very happy to see me. Apparently my family and my friends weren't communicating well, so no one knew my dad had just seen me. Elliott had driven out to the turn around point to look for me. New boy had been tracking me online and it had been a long time since any updates were posted, so he was calling people in a panic. Elliott called him to say that he had found me, we talked for a bit, I told him Ironman was stupid, all while I continued my power walk/hobble. Once I reached the turn around and was headed toward the finish (albeit about 5 miles away) Elliott left me in the dark so he could pick up his wife and meet me at the finish. I fell in with a group of people that were walking and jogging, and stayed with them for about a mile before I decided they were going too slow. I was given glow sticks to wear because it was dark. They set off my plastic attire quite nicely.
About a mile from the finish, in the twisty little neighborhood, my brother found me. He and my dad had figured I would be there soon, so he started at the finish and started walking the course backward to come in with me. I apologized for keeping him out there ALL day, and he told me to shut-up, and that he was proud of me. It was awesome. He convinced me to run down to the finish. I did, until the huge blister I had been brewing exploded between my big and next-biggest toe and I almost fell down. Scared the crap out of my brother!
I re-evaluated my running-to-the-finish plan and only ran the last block. Someone suggested I take all the plastic off. I was too lazy. In retrospect, I would have had much better pictures had I listened.
The finish chute was AMAZING. It was 11pm and there were still hundreds of people sitting in the bleachers, cheering for the finishers. The noise was overwhelming. People were hanging over the sides, reaching out to high-five, and going nuts. So unbelievably awesome.
Once I crossed the line, a woman escorted to the chip removal, medal giving, and picture taking stations. I removed my plastic for that picture. Elliott and his wife, Greg and his family, and my family were all there to watch me finish. So cool. Elliott took me to the massage tent where they had a heater(!) and pizza. The massage sucked and my stomach couldn't handle the pizza, but it was good to get off my feel for a minute.
I about froze when I came out of the heated tent and made my brother give me his jacket. Poor kid. He and I went to get my bags and bike while my dad got the car. I got a painfully violent case of the hiccups while we drove to the house.
My room was upstairs. So not cool. I took a shower and climbed in bed, only to sleep like crap because moving hurt. I woke up at 6 am. Elliott was already up. Ironman does weird things to sleep. We packed up and picked up various bits and pieces, went to the awards because Elliott had done a 9:42 which was good for third in his AG and a Kona slot. I dropped off my rental car, tried to figure out a way to use my rolly suitcase for locomotion through the airport, and got on my first plane. The guy next to me was creepy, but I fell asleep before we took off. When we were leaving the plane he told me to go first (to stare at my ass? I don't know), I told him it would take forever.
Him: Wow, you're really limping! *sarcastically* What, did you do the Ironman or something? *sneer*
Me: Yes.
Him: Oh! *looks like he realizes he's an ass* Holy crap!
Douche.
I limped around the Seattle airport and ate crappy airport food until my next flight. New boy was picking me up from the airport, which I was excited about. I hobbled off the plane and hit the bathroom, finally making it out to where he was waiting, WITH A SIGN! No one has ever made me a sign! It was a good one too! I'll have to post it for you.
He was disappointed I took so long getting off the plane because he wanted to embarrass me in front of a bunch of people. Ha! Too bad for him, all the people were gone!
The next day at work, while Elliott and I compared how swollen our bodies and feet were, flowers and balloons were delivered to the shop. From new boy. While he was there.
He gets soooooo many brownie points.
Later a second bouquet showed up from my dad and step mom. I love my people.
****************************************
It seems I have finally made it out of my Iron-funk and the race it starting to be a good experience in my mind. There are so many things I can do better next time. I'm going to work on getting fast before I try to go that long again though.
The rest of this year will be XTERRA and half irons, and next year will probably be the same.
Coming soon, XTERRA Portland race report!
Woo hoo! The computer didn't crash!
THE BIKE
Seems I need to get on this whole Iron-race blogging thing, as I raced again last weekend and have another next weekend. Oopsie!
Hopefully my computer will refrain from crashing long enough to get through the rest of the race!
Ok, so it's all windy and grey, and I'm about to go for a bike ride. I took off, willing myself to calm down and settle in, since it was going to be a long day. I really didn't want to be racing to make the cut-offs, and all my on-the-bike math made that seem pretty unlikely, barring total disaster.
I was disheartened to note that the first little hill came up before I was warmed up, but it let me see lots of the run course, and where special needs was. I had thought about putting a vest on before the start of the bike leg, or putting one in my special needs bag, but decided against it at the last minute. Fairly early on in the ride I discovered that I had mixed too much Perpetuem powder in my bottles, making them too thick to drink easily, and giving me heart burn every time I drank them (I'm sure the lake water and being in the aero position didn't help matters much). This put a bit of a kink in my nutrition plans, but I figured I would take in as much as I could, and use the aid stations to get extra calories along the way. A little ways past special needs I heard a metallic clank and saw something fly off my bike, which turned out to be my CO2 cartridges. I stopped and got them, as having to beg supplies in the event of a flat would not be good.
Mentally the first loop was definitely easier, as I had done the half distance before, and breaking it into a 56 mile chunk was much less daunting. Everything was all happy and shiny, until I got to the hills. Greg had made the hills sound like a bit of a pain in the ass, and one of my customers had said they were no big deal, one descent got you enough momentum to get over the next climb without much additional work. I had chosen to believe my customer. Unfortunately, Greg was right. The climbs were all pretty short, but some were a little steep for my liking, and they were definitely not close together enough to allow for coasting. Suck-tastic. Fortunately, there were lots of spectators and signs and pretty things to look at, so I was able to distract myself a little bit. Someone had put little signs that said "Legs of Zeus" on all the especially ugly climbs, so I had an idea of what was coming next.
After what seemed like forever, I made it out of the hilly parts, and headed back into town. The wind was picking up more and more, and I was definitely getting cold, so I refrained from stopping to pee or stretch or anything, in fear of having a hypothermia repeat. I rolled through town, where the thousands of people make you feel like a rock star, and headed back out towards the special needs stop. There were a couple of Hammer Bars in my back that totally had my name on them. The volunteers were awesome, and had my bag ready when I pulled over, but I opted to sit on the ground for a bit and scarf down my snacks. The pavement was warm-ish, and my legs appreciated the break. I had also packed a more dilute bottle of Perpetuem in special needs, which might have been the best-tasting thing ever, right at that moment.
The downside to stopping for that long was I cooled down, and once I got going again I was freaking freezing. There was no bathroom at the special needs station, and the next aid station was a couple miles down the rode, so the next goal was just to make it there. I was so cold I cried a little, fearing I would get hypothermic again. Happily, I did not. I pulled over at the bathroom and a medic girl held my bike while I waddled over to the porta-potty. There was no wind in there. It was a happy place (except for the obvious toilet stuff), and I stayed in there for probably a bit longer than was necessary. When I came out the medic girl looked all concerned, and had one of her medic guys with her. They seemed to think I was puking in there. It took a few minutes to convince them I was ok, just cold.
Miles 65 through about 95 were the hardest for me mentally. I was tired and it was a big jump from half way to all the way there. The wind was worse, making descending in my aero bars super scary, and the hilly section of the course felt like it was deserted. I knew I wasn't in last or anything, but with that few people around it felt like it. I walked a little section of one of the Zeus hills. I didn't want to feel anymore burn. The hilly section felt a little shorter the second time around, and the specators were getting drunker, so there was a little bit of entertainment.
The last few miles were fun, with all the spectators, and the knowledge that I was almost done. I rolled into the bike with plenty of time before the cut-off, handed my bike to the guy taking bikes, and hobbled over to the changing tent just as it started to rain.
Hopefully my computer will refrain from crashing long enough to get through the rest of the race!
Ok, so it's all windy and grey, and I'm about to go for a bike ride. I took off, willing myself to calm down and settle in, since it was going to be a long day. I really didn't want to be racing to make the cut-offs, and all my on-the-bike math made that seem pretty unlikely, barring total disaster.
I was disheartened to note that the first little hill came up before I was warmed up, but it let me see lots of the run course, and where special needs was. I had thought about putting a vest on before the start of the bike leg, or putting one in my special needs bag, but decided against it at the last minute. Fairly early on in the ride I discovered that I had mixed too much Perpetuem powder in my bottles, making them too thick to drink easily, and giving me heart burn every time I drank them (I'm sure the lake water and being in the aero position didn't help matters much). This put a bit of a kink in my nutrition plans, but I figured I would take in as much as I could, and use the aid stations to get extra calories along the way. A little ways past special needs I heard a metallic clank and saw something fly off my bike, which turned out to be my CO2 cartridges. I stopped and got them, as having to beg supplies in the event of a flat would not be good.
Mentally the first loop was definitely easier, as I had done the half distance before, and breaking it into a 56 mile chunk was much less daunting. Everything was all happy and shiny, until I got to the hills. Greg had made the hills sound like a bit of a pain in the ass, and one of my customers had said they were no big deal, one descent got you enough momentum to get over the next climb without much additional work. I had chosen to believe my customer. Unfortunately, Greg was right. The climbs were all pretty short, but some were a little steep for my liking, and they were definitely not close together enough to allow for coasting. Suck-tastic. Fortunately, there were lots of spectators and signs and pretty things to look at, so I was able to distract myself a little bit. Someone had put little signs that said "Legs of Zeus" on all the especially ugly climbs, so I had an idea of what was coming next.
After what seemed like forever, I made it out of the hilly parts, and headed back into town. The wind was picking up more and more, and I was definitely getting cold, so I refrained from stopping to pee or stretch or anything, in fear of having a hypothermia repeat. I rolled through town, where the thousands of people make you feel like a rock star, and headed back out towards the special needs stop. There were a couple of Hammer Bars in my back that totally had my name on them. The volunteers were awesome, and had my bag ready when I pulled over, but I opted to sit on the ground for a bit and scarf down my snacks. The pavement was warm-ish, and my legs appreciated the break. I had also packed a more dilute bottle of Perpetuem in special needs, which might have been the best-tasting thing ever, right at that moment.
The downside to stopping for that long was I cooled down, and once I got going again I was freaking freezing. There was no bathroom at the special needs station, and the next aid station was a couple miles down the rode, so the next goal was just to make it there. I was so cold I cried a little, fearing I would get hypothermic again. Happily, I did not. I pulled over at the bathroom and a medic girl held my bike while I waddled over to the porta-potty. There was no wind in there. It was a happy place (except for the obvious toilet stuff), and I stayed in there for probably a bit longer than was necessary. When I came out the medic girl looked all concerned, and had one of her medic guys with her. They seemed to think I was puking in there. It took a few minutes to convince them I was ok, just cold.
Miles 65 through about 95 were the hardest for me mentally. I was tired and it was a big jump from half way to all the way there. The wind was worse, making descending in my aero bars super scary, and the hilly section of the course felt like it was deserted. I knew I wasn't in last or anything, but with that few people around it felt like it. I walked a little section of one of the Zeus hills. I didn't want to feel anymore burn. The hilly section felt a little shorter the second time around, and the specators were getting drunker, so there was a little bit of entertainment.
The last few miles were fun, with all the spectators, and the knowledge that I was almost done. I rolled into the bike with plenty of time before the cut-off, handed my bike to the guy taking bikes, and hobbled over to the changing tent just as it started to rain.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Swim
I woke up race morning with nerves so jittery that I could barely control my gag reflex. Food sounded disgusting, and it took me a good 10 minutes to down a few electrolyte tabs. I forced down most of a bagel and assorted tid bits, mixed up my energy/protein drinks for the bike and run, packed up my special needs bags, and headed down to the start with Elliott. It was effing WINDY (the days prior to the race we noticed that wind on the lake had to be pretty bad to make it up to our house. Race morning had the trees whipping around and grey skies. I might be an Iron-weather jinx. Suck.)
I managed to find my dad and brother in all the mayhem, who were quickly tasked with holding my stuff while I dropped bags off and stood in porta-potty lines. My brother made fun of me while I applied anti-chafe goo in some of my more sensitive areas (I was dressed, we are not THAT kind of family), I hopped into my wetsuit, and I jumped into the line of racers shuffling towards the entrance to the beach.
The line to the beach took FOREVER. Five minutes to go and there were still hundreds of people stuck on the walkway to the beach. I'm pretty sure I was on the sand for less than two minutes before we took off. Not a great way to stay calm!
I have no idea where I was along the edge of the lake because it was so congested, but I started a couple people back from the water line, figuring that would keep me from getting stuck behind the really slow swimmers and I wouldn't get run over by the fast people. In hindsight, I'm not sure it really mattered where I was.
The gun went off and everyone splashed into the water, just like we always do. My heart rate sky-rocketed, just like it always does. This time, however, I couldn't get a rhythm and couldn't call down. After maybe ten minutes (it's hard to be accurate when one is underwater) of hyperventilating I admitted to myself I was having a panic attack and sat up. It took like three minutes of treading water and "I should just turn around and go home" thoughts before I got back in a normal breathing pattern and was able to resume the race. Happily, I got punched/mauled/run over less as a person treading water in the middle of chaos than I did while swimming. I think a big part of the panic attack was due to the fact that there were sizeable swells coming toward the beach, so we got that lovely rising-and-dropping feeling along with all the insanity. Most of the time sighting was pointless because all you could see was the next wave.
Some first-lap highlights include head-butting a buoy post-panic (mental dialogue: "hmmm....wonder what that yellow rope is for? Crap!!!!"), kicking some dude in what I think were his balls after he wouldn't get off my back, having people moo as everyone turned the second corner, and feeling like a rock star riding the waves back in toward the beach.
After the first lap we had to run up the beach briefly (a la XTERRA) then run back into the water. There was a man curled up in the fetal position on the beach with a bunch of medics around him. SO not confidence inspiring.
On the second lap I managed to avoid the buoys and I don't recall having to kick anyone, but the wind was getting worse and the waves rougher, so going was slow. I remember having what I thought was a wave crash over my back at the second turn point, but I'm told it was the helicopter hovering low to get a good shot. Thanks for that, guys.
After all that, I took three minutes off my IM Wisconsin swim time, so that was pretty cool. I headed up to the wetsuit strippers, got stripped, grabbed my bag, and had a volunteer help me get dressed for a nice little bike ride....
I managed to find my dad and brother in all the mayhem, who were quickly tasked with holding my stuff while I dropped bags off and stood in porta-potty lines. My brother made fun of me while I applied anti-chafe goo in some of my more sensitive areas (I was dressed, we are not THAT kind of family), I hopped into my wetsuit, and I jumped into the line of racers shuffling towards the entrance to the beach.
The line to the beach took FOREVER. Five minutes to go and there were still hundreds of people stuck on the walkway to the beach. I'm pretty sure I was on the sand for less than two minutes before we took off. Not a great way to stay calm!
I have no idea where I was along the edge of the lake because it was so congested, but I started a couple people back from the water line, figuring that would keep me from getting stuck behind the really slow swimmers and I wouldn't get run over by the fast people. In hindsight, I'm not sure it really mattered where I was.
The gun went off and everyone splashed into the water, just like we always do. My heart rate sky-rocketed, just like it always does. This time, however, I couldn't get a rhythm and couldn't call down. After maybe ten minutes (it's hard to be accurate when one is underwater) of hyperventilating I admitted to myself I was having a panic attack and sat up. It took like three minutes of treading water and "I should just turn around and go home" thoughts before I got back in a normal breathing pattern and was able to resume the race. Happily, I got punched/mauled/run over less as a person treading water in the middle of chaos than I did while swimming. I think a big part of the panic attack was due to the fact that there were sizeable swells coming toward the beach, so we got that lovely rising-and-dropping feeling along with all the insanity. Most of the time sighting was pointless because all you could see was the next wave.
Some first-lap highlights include head-butting a buoy post-panic (mental dialogue: "hmmm....wonder what that yellow rope is for? Crap!!!!"), kicking some dude in what I think were his balls after he wouldn't get off my back, having people moo as everyone turned the second corner, and feeling like a rock star riding the waves back in toward the beach.
After the first lap we had to run up the beach briefly (a la XTERRA) then run back into the water. There was a man curled up in the fetal position on the beach with a bunch of medics around him. SO not confidence inspiring.
On the second lap I managed to avoid the buoys and I don't recall having to kick anyone, but the wind was getting worse and the waves rougher, so going was slow. I remember having what I thought was a wave crash over my back at the second turn point, but I'm told it was the helicopter hovering low to get a good shot. Thanks for that, guys.
After all that, I took three minutes off my IM Wisconsin swim time, so that was pretty cool. I headed up to the wetsuit strippers, got stripped, grabbed my bag, and had a volunteer help me get dressed for a nice little bike ride....
Monday, July 13, 2009
Coeur d'Alene Race Report!!!!!
I just read Tasha's (The Thighmaster Route to Kona...over there ----->) race report and I cried and decided to get on it and start my own. Here goes...
I flew to CDA on Wednesday before the race, thinking giving myself time to settle in would be helpful. New boy dropped me off at the airport, flight was uneventful. I got into Spokane around dinner time, picked up my first ever(!) rental car, and headed east towards CDA. Ten minutes later I pulled over and got dinner because I was starving and shaking, and got the requisite pitiful looks from restaurant goers because I was eating alone. Whatever. Once I got to CDA I met up with Greg (a customer who was also racing) and his family in their RV, and spent the night in the front half with his 10 year old daughter.
Thursday we went down from the expo and checked in, getting our race numbers and all that. Working retail has sucked all the fun out of race expos since I can usually get the same stuff cheaper, so I didn't buy anything. Elliott and Co. got into town that afternoon, which was a very good thing as I was about to strangle Greg. I take the Ostrich approach to racing in that I like to pretend it's not looming on the horizon, and Greg's type-A "I must go down to the lake for the 100th time to determine the proper angle to approach the waves today" mentality was really cramping my style. Seriously people, the water's going to be the same amount of wet whether you pre-swim it or not. Might as well stay warm and dry, don't you think?
When Elliott's fam showed up we checked in to the house that we were sharing, which was special. Sharing with his fam was fine, but the house itself was a little weird. The theme of the kitchen decor was apparently "stuff as many chickens as possible into one little room." Chicken wall paper, lace curtains, statues, you name it. Plus plaid carpeting...even in the cabinets. Oy. The rest of the house was equally country-cutesy, with the exception of my bedroom and the basement. I had the joy of inhabiting the Pulp Fiction/Mohammed Ali/nuclear mushroom cloud room, and the basement was lovely in its rifles-and-deer-parts splendor, with a chicks-with-whips-and-leather poster for good measure. Yeah. It was that good.
Friday entailed picking my dad and brother up from their hotel and making fun of the house with them, eating, and making excuses when asked if I'd like to go for a ride or run. Pre-ride? Ha! No thanks, ignorance is bliss!! One of the days (I think it was Friday) Elliott and I decided to try to find a grocery store. We got lost for 35 minutes and had to ask a toothless man who barely spoke English where to go. We later found out that the reason it was so hard to find was there was no longer any street leading up to the store. While checking out we decided that geography lessons may be in order for the high schoolers in town, since the girls at the store thought Wales was either in Canada or in the South America vicinity.
Eventually Elliott's wife's parents and brother showed up, making meals a big production. Happily, all of the non-racers had done this before, so us lazy racers didn't have to do much more than change the channel and show up for meals. That there is the real reason I race!
Saturday was more of the same, along with the pre-race getting the bike ready session (where my dad insisted on holding the bike up and asking questions...so cute), and dropping off bikes and gear bags. My nerves were starting to get to me. Holy crap. Race day is near!
I flew to CDA on Wednesday before the race, thinking giving myself time to settle in would be helpful. New boy dropped me off at the airport, flight was uneventful. I got into Spokane around dinner time, picked up my first ever(!) rental car, and headed east towards CDA. Ten minutes later I pulled over and got dinner because I was starving and shaking, and got the requisite pitiful looks from restaurant goers because I was eating alone. Whatever. Once I got to CDA I met up with Greg (a customer who was also racing) and his family in their RV, and spent the night in the front half with his 10 year old daughter.
Thursday we went down from the expo and checked in, getting our race numbers and all that. Working retail has sucked all the fun out of race expos since I can usually get the same stuff cheaper, so I didn't buy anything. Elliott and Co. got into town that afternoon, which was a very good thing as I was about to strangle Greg. I take the Ostrich approach to racing in that I like to pretend it's not looming on the horizon, and Greg's type-A "I must go down to the lake for the 100th time to determine the proper angle to approach the waves today" mentality was really cramping my style. Seriously people, the water's going to be the same amount of wet whether you pre-swim it or not. Might as well stay warm and dry, don't you think?
When Elliott's fam showed up we checked in to the house that we were sharing, which was special. Sharing with his fam was fine, but the house itself was a little weird. The theme of the kitchen decor was apparently "stuff as many chickens as possible into one little room." Chicken wall paper, lace curtains, statues, you name it. Plus plaid carpeting...even in the cabinets. Oy. The rest of the house was equally country-cutesy, with the exception of my bedroom and the basement. I had the joy of inhabiting the Pulp Fiction/Mohammed Ali/nuclear mushroom cloud room, and the basement was lovely in its rifles-and-deer-parts splendor, with a chicks-with-whips-and-leather poster for good measure. Yeah. It was that good.
Friday entailed picking my dad and brother up from their hotel and making fun of the house with them, eating, and making excuses when asked if I'd like to go for a ride or run. Pre-ride? Ha! No thanks, ignorance is bliss!! One of the days (I think it was Friday) Elliott and I decided to try to find a grocery store. We got lost for 35 minutes and had to ask a toothless man who barely spoke English where to go. We later found out that the reason it was so hard to find was there was no longer any street leading up to the store. While checking out we decided that geography lessons may be in order for the high schoolers in town, since the girls at the store thought Wales was either in Canada or in the South America vicinity.
Eventually Elliott's wife's parents and brother showed up, making meals a big production. Happily, all of the non-racers had done this before, so us lazy racers didn't have to do much more than change the channel and show up for meals. That there is the real reason I race!
Saturday was more of the same, along with the pre-race getting the bike ready session (where my dad insisted on holding the bike up and asking questions...so cute), and dropping off bikes and gear bags. My nerves were starting to get to me. Holy crap. Race day is near!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
I promise I will write a proper race report eventually
So I finished the Ironman. It was hard. Not that it is surprising, hard is kind of the point.
I probably should be more excited about the whole thing, but I'm really not. I'm a little embarassed. I think I should have done better. I KNOW I should have trained better, but there were things I could have done or not done that would have made a difference. I feel like I want to put it behind me and move on, which is impossible since everyone wants to talk about it.
Ev-ry-one.
I almost have a new coach with seemed all shiny and cool because it could be my post-iron new start, but all he wanted to talk about was why I sucked (not really, he wouldn't say that) and chastise me for not training enough. Guess what? I already knew that. Let's just chalk it up to a learning experience and move right along, k?
So between now and when I have time to sit down and blog again, I will leave you with an extremely abbreviated version of my "race"
Swim: "Aw crap here we go...holy crap waves...panic attack...swim swim swim....kick some guy in the balls....swim...run...swim...waves are bigger....gonna die...swim..swim...yay done!"
Bike: "Damn I'm slow...pedal pedal pedal pedal...OMG hills....OMG HILLS....OH. MY. GAWD. hills....whew flat....food...waaa!!! I have to do it again?!?!....no Mr. Medic, I was not throwing up....HILLS KILLS....la la la.....I'm done!
Run: "Crap, my legs are broken....oh look, it's raining....run/walk...walk/run....err....walk/walk...pee...pee...pee...pee...OMG pee....this is fucking stupid....power walk..."Dad, my foot is BROKEN!!! It is!!!! *SOB* I SWEAR, it's BROKEN!!!"...poncho and rain....heh Elliott came to check on me....ok, I have two hours to walk 4 miles....I can do that....ow ow ow ow everything hurts....OMG now my non-athletic brother came to check on me....can see the finish...blisters exploding like finish line fireworks...and I'm spent."
The end.
You know you want to read the not-from-concentrate version.
I probably should be more excited about the whole thing, but I'm really not. I'm a little embarassed. I think I should have done better. I KNOW I should have trained better, but there were things I could have done or not done that would have made a difference. I feel like I want to put it behind me and move on, which is impossible since everyone wants to talk about it.
Ev-ry-one.
I almost have a new coach with seemed all shiny and cool because it could be my post-iron new start, but all he wanted to talk about was why I sucked (not really, he wouldn't say that) and chastise me for not training enough. Guess what? I already knew that. Let's just chalk it up to a learning experience and move right along, k?
So between now and when I have time to sit down and blog again, I will leave you with an extremely abbreviated version of my "race"
Swim: "Aw crap here we go...holy crap waves...panic attack...swim swim swim....kick some guy in the balls....swim...run...swim...waves are bigger....gonna die...swim..swim...yay done!"
Bike: "Damn I'm slow...pedal pedal pedal pedal...OMG hills....OMG HILLS....OH. MY. GAWD. hills....whew flat....food...waaa!!! I have to do it again?!?!....no Mr. Medic, I was not throwing up....HILLS KILLS....la la la.....I'm done!
Run: "Crap, my legs are broken....oh look, it's raining....run/walk...walk/run....err....walk/walk...pee...pee...pee...pee...OMG pee....this is fucking stupid....power walk..."Dad, my foot is BROKEN!!! It is!!!! *SOB* I SWEAR, it's BROKEN!!!"...poncho and rain....heh Elliott came to check on me....ok, I have two hours to walk 4 miles....I can do that....ow ow ow ow everything hurts....OMG now my non-athletic brother came to check on me....can see the finish...blisters exploding like finish line fireworks...and I'm spent."
The end.
You know you want to read the not-from-concentrate version.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Spring Cleaning
Yesterday I went on a cleaning binge.
I tore my room apart and put it back together, resulting in three bags of garbage and one bag for Goodwill leaving my little space. I swept up the dust bunnies (note to self, wood floors throughout the house + shedding dog = nasty), did all the laundry and dishes, bleached the sink (because I found a bottle of SoftScrub (!!!) which is awesome stuff), made my bed, and even put the new wheels on the track bike pieces so it's one wobbly pseudo-bike instead of pieces on the floor.
I found bills from my old house in Fresno. It's a little ridiculous.
Now I feel like a good little adult, with my room clean, my bills paid, my laundry done, my flight to Spokane booked, and my rental car reserved. I'm surprisingly calm about the impending IM, especially considering I fell off the training bandwagon to the point that I'm pretty sure it has now made it's way to Peru or something without me. My justification is that I have been sickly and freaking exhausted, and it's better to toe the line undertrained than sick and slightly more fit. Please don't feel the need to share if you disagree.
I talked to one of my customers today about the race and she was super reassuring, telling me that training here is perfect for that race as the terrain is so similar. She says I can do it, and that's good enough for me.
New boy and I got into a big ugly thing (I'm not sure it's a fight, it was more of a "you are being insecure and stupid you need to stop now" kind of thing) last week so I went and had my toes done. I love them. Pink with cherry blossoms. Pretty much the cutest toes ever. I wasn't paying attention and gave the girl a 50% tip. I figure she deserves it since I was crabby and didn't want to talk to her and I love my toes now.
New boy is behaving now, so that's good.
Hope all is well with you!
I tore my room apart and put it back together, resulting in three bags of garbage and one bag for Goodwill leaving my little space. I swept up the dust bunnies (note to self, wood floors throughout the house + shedding dog = nasty), did all the laundry and dishes, bleached the sink (because I found a bottle of SoftScrub (!!!) which is awesome stuff), made my bed, and even put the new wheels on the track bike pieces so it's one wobbly pseudo-bike instead of pieces on the floor.
I found bills from my old house in Fresno. It's a little ridiculous.
Now I feel like a good little adult, with my room clean, my bills paid, my laundry done, my flight to Spokane booked, and my rental car reserved. I'm surprisingly calm about the impending IM, especially considering I fell off the training bandwagon to the point that I'm pretty sure it has now made it's way to Peru or something without me. My justification is that I have been sickly and freaking exhausted, and it's better to toe the line undertrained than sick and slightly more fit. Please don't feel the need to share if you disagree.
I talked to one of my customers today about the race and she was super reassuring, telling me that training here is perfect for that race as the terrain is so similar. She says I can do it, and that's good enough for me.
New boy and I got into a big ugly thing (I'm not sure it's a fight, it was more of a "you are being insecure and stupid you need to stop now" kind of thing) last week so I went and had my toes done. I love them. Pink with cherry blossoms. Pretty much the cutest toes ever. I wasn't paying attention and gave the girl a 50% tip. I figure she deserves it since I was crabby and didn't want to talk to her and I love my toes now.
New boy is behaving now, so that's good.
Hope all is well with you!
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