I Get To

I started with Team In Training, as a participant, in 2007.  I hated running, but had been talked into running a marathon by a college roommate and once I hit my Saturday “long run” of 5 miles, there was no turning back.  I began as a participant in the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco.  I raised over $4,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society for this event, and thus began my journey. 

In the Fall of 2007, I signed up to mentor the next season.  Mentors are the fundraising coaches for Team In Training participants.  The cheerleaders who give you ideas and share their experiences to help you believe that, you too, can not only complete the endurance event you’ve signed up for, but also complete the fundraising, which for many is just as daunting as putting the training miles in.
Not long after that, I got the bug to coach.  An opportunity presented itself, when the walk coach for the following season let us know they would not be coaching going forward.  I volunteered to be the walk coach, went off to certification and started the next season as the leader of the walkers on the team.  If you think running a marathon is hard, try walking one!  From that I became a run coach and then found my true passion in triathlon and set my sights on becoming a triathlon coach…here I am today!

As I near the end of six years in the world of endurance sports, and in the world of Team In Training, I find myself very thankful for the people who have entered into my life through Team In Training and through endurance sports in general.  And even more thankful that I have the opportunity help fund cancer research and that I get to train.

A year ago, Becky, a mentor on the Team In Training Galveston/Lavaman team, helped to motivate the Team by reminding us that “we get to”.  As the winter months approach (let’s be honest, we’ve had a pretty tame Fall) the dark cold mornings and evenings will soon settle in around us.  The alarm will go off at 5am, and we’ll realize we’ve cocooned ourselves in our down comforters and didn’t quite turn the heat on high enough to make it comfortable to get out of bed.  Or we’ll forget our jacket at our desk and walk out of work, realizing it’s stunningly cold outside.  When this happens, we have to come up with something to get us out on the trail or into the pool.  Every time that alarm goes off, have the first thing that goes through your head be, “I get to”.  When that brisk winter air hits your face as you walk outside, remind yourself that “I get to”.  And be thankful for that.

Although most of what I train and raise money for ties into cancer research, I was recently reminded of just how lucky we are that “we get to”.  A good friend’s 29 year old son had a stroke.  29 years old, yes you read that right.  This happened the morning of the Honored Hero Run.  While I, my friend, and a lot of his other friends, were frantically running around finalizing the pieces of a race that raises money to help save lives, his life was struck by tragedy.  There were a lot of unknowns, for what seemed like a long time to me, and probably like an eternity to him and his family.  His son was at his daughter’s wedding a couple weeks ago.  He’s responsive and interactive, he’s come a long way in his recovery, but he still has a long way to go.  Right now, as much as he wants to, he doesn’t get to and that is no fault of his own.

For those of us that have found a true passion in endurance sports, be thankful. Thankful that you have the means to purchase the gear you need to complete your training and events, no matter how fancy that gear is.  Beyond that, be thankful for the fact that you can log the miles on the run and/or bike and the meters or yards in the pool.  It’s not easy, this training thing.  But come event day your hard work will pay off. 

I challenge you, every morning you wake up or walk outside to a blast of ice-cold air smacking you in the face, to remind yourself that “I get to”.  I guarantee that if you do this, you’ll start that workout with a smile on your face.   

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Ironman 70.3 World Championship RACE REPORT!

Many of you have been asking about my race report for the Ironman 70.3 World Championships, so here it is!  It’s not a short one.  So grab a cup of coffee and put your feet up for a few minutes.

I made a promise to those that would read this blog that I would not write on a consistent basis.  Seeing as I have not posted anything in over a month, I feel that I am holding up my end of the bargain pretty well.  I also made a promise to myself that I would not use this blog to share negative emotions.  If you want drama you can go watch Jersey Shore or Keeping Up with the Kardashians (I am not even going to take the time to see if I spelled the right…).  I wanted this to be something witty, educational, and fun.  I didn’t want to be forced to feel like I had to write something, simply because it had been a week since I last wrote something.  That being said, the suspense is over…race report is below.  Read away!

I had a meeting in Flower Mound on Tuesday night, which ended a bit after 9PM.  On my ride home I had more free time than I usually do to think about things.  As I sat in the mess of glaring red taillights, that used to be known as “121” and now is referred to by many as “WTF, really”, I began writing my race report in my head.  And let me tell you, folks, it was pretty dang good.  Below you will find what my mind was able to regurgitate, once I finally arrived home at 11PM...thanks to “WTF, really.”

I got up about 4am on Sunday, September 9^th to eat my pre-race breakfast.  Like a good little athlete, I sat down and ate what seemed like far too much food to handle at that time of the morning, just so I’d be ready for my swim wave to start three hours later (and my body would be good and done with all its processing before I crammed my way into a teeny tiny little speedsuit).  Getting ready for the swim portion of a triathlon is very similar to getting ready to go skiing, especially if you have to wear a wetsuit.  As careful as you are to pee 27 times before you get all geared up, inevitably, the second you pull on that last bit of gear you have to pee again.

I ate my breakfast and since I had three hours to kill, I’m a strong believer in making the best use of your time, I laid down on the couch and set my alarm for 45 minutes later.  I’ll be totally honest with you.  I didn’t sleep at all during that 45 minutes, but I rested.  I had slept like crap the night before.  In fact, I can’t even guarantee you I really ever slept.  I went to bed around 9:30PM on Saturday night.  We had been watching a movie and I was falling asleep on the couch, so I headed off to bed.  I took half a serving of ZZZquil (yes, I do refer to it as a serving, not a dose, this may be detrimental to my health, but I’ve personally come to terms with that) and laid down to “sleep”.  I always tell my athletes that the most important night of sleep before a race is two nights before.  Why?  Well, I can pretty much guarantee, if you are human, you will want to do well in your race and you will be so caught up the night before in how to do everything perfectly so that you end up doing well, that you will fret yourself out of any potentially good sleep that might have been sneaking your way.  That being said, Saturday night consisted of pretty much no sleep.  But Friday, Friday I slept GREAT!

About 5AM my parents asked me how I was going to get down to the race.  WHAAAAAAT???  They had so kindly been totting me around for the past couple of days and they ask me this???  EEK!  Stressor #1, check.  I informed them I would appreciate if they would be so kind as to take me and we headed down to the swim start around 5:30AM.  Yes, I dropped my bike off the night before and yes, it was a clean transition, and no, I did not need to be there that early.  BUT, I am OCD and Type A and probably too much of a planner for my own good, so I wanted to be down there early.  Plus, I would have to visit the porta pottie a multitude of times to pee (does anyone know WHY you have to pee so much when you’re nervous???), so I wanted to get down there early.

My wave started at 7:15 (I think, I honestly can’t remember at this point) and I started slipping into my speedsuit a little before 7.  I ate my Gu 15 minutes before my wave started and then I headed down to be corralled into our swim waves. 

My stomach was in knots.  It was like my stomach was in a fist fight with itself.  There was only one long distance triathlon that I was not nervous like this before, and that was Coeur d’Alene.  I don’t know why, but I had been calm before my Ironman.  Today, not so much.  But this nervousness was usual and I know my race day self well enough to know that once I got my rhythm and warmed up in the swim it would go away. 

Stressor #2, check.  It didn’t go away in the swim.  I felt like crap.  Getting to the turn buoy took an eternity.  I headed back toward the swim exit, but it was nowhere in sight.  How long was this 1.2 mile swim?  The village where the swim start/T1 were located had an Italian theme to it and there was a bridge crossing the lake that reminded me of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy.  I knew once I made it back to the bridge I wasn’t far from the swim exit.  However, at this point, I was feeling terrible.  It had taken me forever to warm up and my swim just wasn’t what I thought it would be. 

In the last year I have stopped wearing a watch during the swim portion of my triathlons.  The swim is my weakest discipline, and knowing that so much of these endurance sports is mental, I knew I could not look down at my swim time.  If it was not what I hoped, or felt, it had been the rest of my race would be negatively impacted.  I got out of the swim, feeling as though it had been awful, didn’t look at the clock, and therefore had the ability to tell myself it hadn’t been as bad as I thought it was, it was just nerves.

T1 was a joke.  Really.  It was quite ridiculous.  We exited Lake Las Vegas on the left-hand side of the lake (no, I do not know directionally what side I was on, so I will stick with left, right, ahead, and behind, for us lay-folk), ran up a hill, over a bridge, down through a canyon of purple porta potties and to our bikes.  I had looked down on this crevasse the day before and truly dreaded it.  But to be honest, that portion of T1 ended up being less rough than I had imagined.  I grabbed my bike and headed up (yes, UP) and out of T1.  My wonderful cheer squad was there yelling for me the whole time.  I couldn’t tell you who was where, but I heard all of them J  The T1 exit included a switchback.  Yup, that’s right.  No jokes here.  It was much steeper than I imagined it would be, but it was over quickly.  I mounted my bike and head like a bat out of hell, oh wait, that is not right…like a snail up and out of the Lake Las Vegas Resort area onto the main bike course.

A switchback, in T1? Necessary?  I think not.

I had done a sweat loss test the day after I arrived in Las Vegas.  It was dry heat and, fingers crossed, maybe it would be cooler and I wouldn’t sweat as much.  WRONG.  30 minute run, 3 pounds lost.  Damn.  Unfortunately, I know that sad truth that I am not cut out for hot weather races.  I just cannot replace all the fluids I lose, for as much as I sweat.  Even if I tried to consume enough liquids, my body would not be able to properly absorb them.   

That being said, mile 10 rolled around on the bike and there was nothing but desert around me (HA, when I proofread this, I realized I had written “nothing but dessert around me,” THAT would have made for a great bike course).  No water.  For those of you not as familiar with triathlons, most Half Iron distance triathlons have water hand ups on the bike every 10 miles.  I was sucking vapor out of my aero bottle and began to panic.  This is where knowing your body is so important in training and races.  At this point, I knew I was in trouble.  No, I wasn’t dehydrated yet, but I knew that if I didn’t get water soon I’d be well on my way.  The first bottle hand up wasn’t until about mile 15 on the bike.  Stressor #4, check (those of you who are perfectionists are wondering where #3 went…keep reading). 

I had entered Lake Mead and it was absolutely gorgeous.  This portion of the bike course, I would relate somewhat to a train wreck.  You don’t want to look, but you HAVE to look.  I kept convincing myself that I would not have to climb those distant hills (mountains?), but as I rode closer I could see little shiny helmets making their way up.  The turnaround provided me with an absolutely beautiful view.  Like something out of a movie.  It was breathtaking. 

The next water hand up wasn’t until mile 30ish on the bike.  I had tried to conserve my water as best I could at this point, but was sucking vapors again as I came up to water hand up number two.  I was toast.  I had goose bumps and could tell I was getting dehydrated.  It was somewhere around this point that I started laughing to myself, no not because I was dehydrated and delusion, but because I knew all eyes were on me that day.

Ironman has this great online tracking system where you can very thoroughly track (or stalk, as I prefer to call it) your friends that are competing in an Ironman event.  I am a very avid stalker of my friends on days I am not racing and because of this I knew exactly what all my friends back home were doing.  They were refreshing their computer screens far too often, wondering what the hell had happened to me.  The people I train with are like college roommates, maybe not as messy and don’t go out drinking as much, but they know you.  They know you better than you could ever think they do.  They know your race splits well enough to know when you had a slower swim than usual.  They know your bike splits well enough to know that it shouldn’t be taking you as long as it is to get through the bike portion as it is.  And they know your run splits well enough to know when you’re having a tough day.  They do not research this, they do not study your past races, they just know.

It was at this point in the bike that I began to smile.  I was laughing to myself.  And then this 60 year old guy came along and passed me going up a steep climb…my smile faded for a moment and then I read his bib.  “Bruno”.  He was from Italy.  I smiled again.  Go for it 60 year old, Italian Bruno.  You’re kicking ass.  And then I started laughing to myself.  I imagined all my training buddies back in Fort Worth watching my every move online.  Then I imagined all the texts that the people who were in Las Vegas were getting from people frantically asking if I was ok.  I know this is what was happening, because it is EXACTLY what I would have been doing.

I couldn’t even tell you the mile marker where I came upon water hand up #3, but I think it was somewhere near mile 40.  Here, I stopped.  Yes, you read that right.  I stopped.  If you know “race Liesel” you will have read this statement in shock and then re-read it to ensure you read it correctly.  I don’t stop in races.  I just don’t.  But here is where my “race smart” mentality kicked in.  People often ask me why I think I do so well in races.  I am a naturally gifted athlete, I will give you that, and I am extremely dedicated to my training.  But, beyond that, I train and race smart.  I know what my body is capable of and I know what I need to do to succeed.  This isn’t to say I don’t still make mistakes, but I do my best to always remember to train and race smart. 

So, yes, I stopped.  I had been informed there would be sunscreen applicators at the exit of T1.  If there were, they were not making themselves very visible.  So I had headed out on the bike, essentially, naked.  I’m white.  Let’s not lie to ourselves.  I am of German decent and I used to get this AMAZING bronze tan just from being outside.  However, somewhere along the line, that nice little asset was traded in by the sun tan gods for a deep red “boiled lobster” look.  Stressor #3.  It had been on my mind the entire bike ride.  So I stopped (I keep repeating this for effect, because I DON’T STOP!).  I asked the volunteer for two bottles of water and sunscreen.  I filled up my aero bottle and lathered up as I drank the other bottle.  Sometimes ego has to go out the door in order to race smart.  Racing smart can be the difference from finishing your race (even if it’s not the time you wanted) and DNFing. 

I got back on my bike and headed towards town (T2 was in Henderson).  A little before mile 50 I’d had enough.  I was dehydrated, my legs were tired and I was disappointed.  This was due to a personal mental error.  Part of racing smart is entering the race knowing what you are capable of.  I was competing in the World Championships.  I was racing with some of the strongest Half Ironman athletes in the World.  I, who am used to finishing somewhere near the top, was very well aware, that my ranking would be flipped in this race and I would be somewhere near the bottom.  Some of you may be thinking this is negative self-talk.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but it is quite plainly just the truth.  And I was ok with the truth.  I was ok with it, until I began to believe what others were saying, when they’d tell me I’d do better than the 6+ hours I expected on the course.  They were not trying to mess with my mental plan, they were merely being supportive.  They believed in me.  BUT, I knew I wasn’t trained as well as I could be, this was going to be the most difficult Half Ironman I had competed in, and I was racing with the best in the world. 

Because I changed my plan in my head, I began to get disappointed in my time.  My goal bike time was far gone and I still had many hilly miles ahead of me.  So I began to get down on myself.  This is why it’s so important to KNOW what you can do going into a race.  To know this and to know that you are simply being honest with yourself and in your abilities.  You know you best. 

I wanted to quit.  I convinced myself to finish the bike.  At least once I finished the bike I would be greeted by my cheer squad and it would give me the motivation to keep going.  This is where I really missed having all my training buddies racing with me.  When we did Coeur d’Alene, my bike time was over six hours.  But it was the fastest six hours ever, because I spent the entire time looking for the other 11 people I trained with.  Here, in Las Vegas, I didn’t have that.  When it comes down to it, your final time in triathlon is individual.  But, to me it’s a group event.  The support you get from your training buddies, while on the course, is priceless.  I missed having that.

I came into T2 and got really excited.  They took my bike for me!  I didn’t have to rack it, I just handed it to some wonderful volunteer who took it off my hands and I headed to my run bag. CRAAAAAAAAAAAP!  I had left my Garmin on my bike.  In my sheer excitement, of this great red carpet service, I had forgotten my electronic life line.  I realized this as I was reaching down to grab my run bag.  Split second decision, go back and lose time finding my bike and getting it or head out without it?  It is at this point, that I will suggest to anyone reading this that you go back and get your Garmin if you rely on it as heavily as I do.  However, I was dehydrated and I knew my heart rate was shot.  So I left it.  I took off my heart rate strap and helmet, tossed them in my bag, threw on my shoes and visor and headed out onto the run course.  As you have well become aware, I decided to give the run a try and not quit.

I came out of the tent and scanned the supporters for my cheer squad and their red and black shirts.  I scanned and scanned and scanned.  My heart dropped.  They were nowhere.  All I wanted was to get a little encouragement from them.  All I wanted was to see them.  There were eight of them and that’s a pretty big group to get coordinated.  I figured they hadn’t left the house in time to catch me go out on the run.       

Since I was Garmin-less it was time to run free.  This was going to be a perceived exertion run.  Here goes nothing.  When I started all this endurance stuff, I would go hard at everything and I WOULD NOT STOP nor would I walk.  However, in the past few years, and with the discovery of my ridiculous sweat loss, I have come to rather enjoying walking the water stops in races.  For me, this is a necessity.  Until I master running and actually being able to consume more water than I spill on myself, I will walk water stops.  I would like to thank the WTC for providing rather lengthy water stops on the run portion of this course.  Long water stops meant an excuse to keep walking.  So, I walked.

This was by far the most challenging run course I have done in a Half Ironman.  It was a mile+ uphill, a mile+ downhill…times six.  It was brutal.  As I came near the end of my first loop (the run was three loops) I heard hooting and hollering from across the street.  There was my posse J  Monica and Cristal had made a sign for me. 

I honestly don’t remember what all the front and back said.  But they had printed out and taped on pictures of many of my training buddies, so that they “would be here with me.”  I looked over at them, but was pretty much in the bite me phase at this point, so I’d be lying if I said I jumped up and down with joy and waved at them.  I looked at them and then looked back ahead.  I did not acknowledge them.  Now, some of you may believe this is rude, for those of you who have done an endurance event…you get this. 

I cleaned up my attitude after this and as I began lap two I saw Tim and Jenn.  When I saw them I stopped to talk to them.  Yup.  I stopped again.  I was morphing into the honey badger.  I mentioned, in passing, that the course was brutal, and headed back out.  Lap two was tough and lap three was just cruel.  I’d had a stitch pretty much the entire run and spent my meanders through the water stops trying to get rid of it.  I drank coke and visited numerous porta potties, only to discover that whatever I was feeling while running disappeared when I tried to ride myself of it…The last mile of the course was downhill.  I kept saying “less than a mile” over and over in my head.  I wanted to be done and I WANTED WATER.

I finished and was given the biggest medal I have ever received.  It was well worth not quitting for that.

Although I had mixed emotions during this race I have walked away from it as an absolutely amazing experience.  It was like the Olympics of triathlon for me.  There were people from all over the world.  The expo was huge and the atmosphere was just amazing.  It was the toughest Half Iron course I have ever attempted and it is well deserving of being the World Championship course.

Facebook (oh lovely Facebook!) was plastered with congratulations from people who had known I was racing.  It lifted my spirits.  The thing I love, about those I train with, is they don’t care what your finish time is.  They could care less if you finish first or last, they just care that you’re out there doing it.  At points, during the race, I felt like I was letting people down.  I was there representing everyone I train with and my time was not what “MY” time would usually be.  But I realized it wouldn’t matter to anyone if I came crawling across the finish line as the sun set.  All that mattered was that I was there.  For this, I am truly blessed.

WATER!!!

ONE MONTH TO WORLDS!!!

In one month I will be standing on the shore of Lake Las Vegas with some of the greatest 70.3 athletes in the world.  Up until about a week ago I was not excited for it, I didn’t feel prepared.  But the excitement recently kicked in.  I have no idea what to expect.  I try to always follow the rule to only race myself, train smart and race smart and you’ll succeed.    

I am excited and am I nervous.  Most of all, I don’t have any clue how I am going to get through an entire Half Ironman without all my racing buddies!  My Ironman bike time was around 6:30 and, in my mind, it flew by.  Why, you ask?  Because the ENTIRE TIME I was watching the course for the other 11 people I trained with.  I am so excited to go, but at the same time I will miss having everyone I train with out there with me.  The motivation and happiness that resounds when I see someone I train with on the course will be empty and for that I am sad.

So how did I get here?  It all starts in the city where Vegas goes to die (is that harsh???)  Branson, MO. 

The bike portion of Branson kicked my butt.  Bad.  When I knew T2 was close though, my spirits lifted.  The bike leg hadn’t been what I hoped for but, my legs felt good and I was confident of my run.  We were on a narrow path and I said to the guy in front of me “we’re almost home free”.  Damn karma!!!  I should have kept my mouth shut.  I had seen more flats during Branson then I had seen the entire year during training and racing (this really is not an over exaggeration, ask anyone that raced at Branson). 

Not two seconds later my tire flatted.  AHHHHHHHH!!!  Seriously???  Was that mine?!?  I jumped off my bike, looked at the huge slash in my tire (had a gnome jumped out and slashed it with a switch blade???  How in the world do you get a slash like that in your tire?).  I knew I was about a mile out and so I did what any sane triathlete with the goal of qualifying for Worlds would do (and the triathlete that knows they’re not strong enough to tear their tubular off the bike in less than an hour).  I took of my bike shoes and I began to run in.  Tamara and Jack both passed me and asked what I was doing.  I verified with Tamara that we were about a mile out and I just kept running.  I came out of the park to see Jack had turned around to help me.  I couldn’t believe it.  He had sacrificed his race for me because he knew what my goal was.  I was almost in tears running my bike in because I had been so ready to start the run and I thought for sure my chance to qualify was gone.  Then I saw Jack.  Although he tried to help, I showed him that the tire was too far gone and told him to go ahead.  Jack stopping to help is what got me through running my bike in and to the run.  Apparently, my running my bike in is what got him to the run. 

The run portion of Branson was a joke.  It was pouring down rain, Heather saw ducks on the run course (not a joke…), transition probably could have been designated a national disaster zone due to flooding, yet everyone kept running.  I ran much of the run with Jack (I say I did this because he’s taller and, thus, the lightning would strike him, but really it’s much more enjoyable to run with someone).  We ran much of the run faster than I cared to run, but Jack was running fast, so I ran fast.  At some point I told him he could go ahead because I couldn’t hold the pace and he said something along the lines of “thank God, I was just running fast because you were.”  This is what I will miss at Worlds!

I finished Branson in 7^th place.  Two slots were allocated to my age group, so I had to wait for roll down.  When they called my name I nearly tackled Heather and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.  I’m a stickler for earning things though.  So, I plan to be at Worlds again, some day, by taking one of the top spots in my age group.  But for now, I can’t wait for September 6^th, when I’ll be in Las Vegas scouting out the course.  I am so thankful for my parents, cousin Karen, Tim, Monica, and Jen Lee for coming out to support me.  Although triathlon is an individual sport, I don’t view it that way.  This will be the first time I’m truly racing alone and I’m more worried about that than actually completing the race!  

Critter Tales and Furry Fears

I run and ride along Bellaire Drive a lot as it’s a straight shot out to Benbrook.  I see many critters on my training adventures.  Dogs , squirrels, some snakes, armadillos (usually they’re road kill), deer, and road runners just to name a few.

Most are totally innocent and never threaten me.  Most.

Squirrels are tricky though.  Let me tell you, those suckers can turn on a dime!  Although I am not afraid of squirrels, they have, on more than one occasion, tried to make me crash on my bike by freezing - - - turning to scamper off away from me, making me believe I may proceed with no fear of death - - - then FOR NO APPARENT OR RELEVANT REASON - - - running right in front of me, leading to my imminent death. 

There was a snake one day, too.  I was doing repeats on Bellaire and I rode by this poor snake (when they are dead I feel sorry for them and my fear of the ferocious beasts wanes) who had been run over by, what looked like, a bike tire.  I rode by it, very close so as to stay in the bike lane.  It was partially laid out and looked very much dead.  I finished my out and back and headed out again.  I made note to ride closer to the curb as I came upon the “dead” snake again.  The snake was very much NOT dead at this point and was coiled up.  CRAP!  My heart jumped. 

Ok, it was not this small, but I probably overreacted

For those of you that did the Trident Sports open water swim on July 21^st, you heard about the strange fish phenomenon.  Tim and I were out setting buoys on Friday night and we came upon an area of the lake where Tim told me “water was bubbling up, probably from a pipe under the lake.”  For a moment I believed him.  As I sat in my kayak looking at the bubbling water (that was a good four feet wide), I realized this “pipe” was moving.  I screamed.  No, I take that back, I squealed.  Not in joy, in pure fear.  This was straight out of a horror movie, no joke. 

As I watched it, I am not sure if I was frozen in fear or pure curiosity, but I sat and starred at it, little tiny fish started flopping out all over the place.  It was like a moving lake crop circle.  FREAKED.ME.OUT.

Deer are an elegant creature.  They are truly graceful and, on occasion, I am fortunate to see one or two deer on my rides through Benbrook.  I often lose my focus as I ride by and just watch them.  However, I have this absolutely strange fear of being rammed, entirely by accident, by a deer.  My friend Larson showed me a video of a guy getting rammed by a deer and I now have this bizarre fear of getting t-boned as I’m riding through Benbrook.  I’m truly afraid that the doe is setting me up.  Gracefully meandering into the road to catch my attention and then BAM, the buck gets me (yes, this is a true fear).   If they’re just grazing by the side of the road, I’m totally cool with that.  But if one runs out in front of me my knuckles go white and I attain a death grip on my handle bars as I await its partner that is lurking in the trees ready to ram me.  If you’d like to share this fear with me, you can watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oymHHyV1M.

They should post signs that say, "bike stealing deer ahead"

By far, the scariest critter-related incident I had while training occurred one evening about 11:30PM on Bellaire.  I hadn’t gotten my workout in yet, so I headed out the door at 11PM for my run.  I donned my white top, white skirt, florescent/reflective orange visor, clip on visor light, pepper spray, and my flashing red light so as to be visible to any passing cars (critters were not on my mind).  Well, I have watched far too many episodes of Criminal Minds to be able to sanely venture into the dark by myself at such an hour.  I was on high alert as it was.  As I headed back toward my apartment, I noticed the beady eyes of a critter focused on me.  The critter was in the bike path I was running on and I didn’t want to run too far into the street.  I slowed up.  I slowed up more.  It was going to be a chicken fight and it looked like I was going to lose.  The critter stood its ground, so focused on me that it was perfectly frozen, awaiting my passing.  I began to run into the street, to keep my distance from the critter, and as I approached, to my sheer shock, I realized what it was.  A smashed beer can, with the light from my visor reflecting on it, making it appear to have eyes.

There is absolutely no point to this post.  I just thought I would humor you with some of the things that go through my mind as I’m training J

Beware the smashed beer can animals of the night!

Shiny Happy People

A lot of people say that everything happens for a reason.  I don’t know that I used to believe this, but with the choices I’ve made in the last five years, I am beginning to believe it more and more. 

In the end of 2006 I decided to move to Texas, which led me to joining the marathon team for Team In Training.  After being a participant and mentor I chose to take the step to becoming a coach.  Right before the start of a season our walk coach decided not to return to coaching.  There is a riff in Team In Training between the walkers and the runners, but in my mind everyone out there is doing the same distance for the same cause, it just may take some longer than others.  So, I stepped up and volunteered to be the walk coach.  It was quite possibly one of the most humbling things I have ever done.  If you think running a marathon is hard, try walking one!  The people I coached on the walk team were driven and passionate about the cause and I learned a great deal from their determination. 

In 2008 a friend of mine talked me into doing a triathlon.  I tried to get out of it for the longest time by using the excuse that I didn’t have a bike, but I really (REALLY, REALLY, REALLY) hate being bad at things and I didn’t think I could swim very well, that was my true deterrent.  Another friend showed up with a mountain bike and my excuses were gone.  I did my first sprint in the end of 2008 in Cleburne.  Now, I am slightly competitive and was told (threatened, in my mind) by Fred Wood that “I would be the one he would beat”.  He’d found out it was my first tri and had set his mind on beating me as his goal.  Nope.  No, sir, was I going to let that happen.  Carlo (who is the one that got me into this whole mess) tracked my time and how far I was behind Fred the entire race.  It was one of the most adrenaline filled few hours of my life! 

Here are a few things that happened during that race:

-          I sat down in transition. Yup.  I popped a squat right there by my bike and took my sweet time putting bandaids on (I had really bad blisters). 
-          I didn’t have a cycle computer and I’m pretty sure that only mile 11 was marked on the bike.  I remember the scenery being really pretty, but I had NO IDEA how far I had gone or how far I had left.
-          I ran my heart out.  The fastest 5K I’ve ever run was at this race.  Raw adrenaline and the pure lack of any sort of knowledge of what I was doing led to this.

The point being, I fell in love with triathlon at this point.  The next year I ran the ultra at El Scorcho and decided that there was no logical reason to run 20 miles on Saturday followed by a 10 mile “recovery” (really, 10 mile recovery run???) on Sunday.  In the end of 2009 my focus became triathlon.

Somehow, over the next few years, I progressed from walk coach to run coach to triathlon coach.  Team In Training is an amazing organization and the passion of the people involved in it are what makes it so enjoyable to be a part of.  Coaching for Team In Training keeps me grounded and reminded of the hard work and dedication it took me to get where I am today.  The thirst for learning and growing that the participants have is addicting and entices me to coach them to the best of my ability so they reach (and exceed) their goals.

Sometimes you can get so caught up in where you are that you forget how you got there.

Coaching reminds me that when I started, I couldn’t swim from one end of the pool to the other without hyperventilating and feeling like my lungs were going to explode.  That I didn’t know how to get my tire off to change it, quick release anyone?  Gears…I bought my first road bike off of Craigslist (picked it up in a dark parking lot late at night…thanks for going with me Mer).  I proceeded to take it for its maiden ride as my new bike, then I proceeded to shift it all the way into the hardest gear.  Then it stopped shifting.  The darn thing was broken!!!  I took it to my friend, Don Armstrong, who kindly explained (I’m sure he was laughing a little), that the brake levers were shifters too. ..so, I guess it wasn’t broken.  Clipless pedals.  Oh the stories.  Slow motion falling and being able to do nothing about it…

I had my Team In Training participants take part in the Disco Sprint Triathlon this past weekend.  They have been training for over two months now and I wanted to get them into a race setting.  For some this was their first triathlon, ever.  For some it was their first in years.  For all of them, it was the beginning of the next phase of their training for either an Olympic or Half Ironman.  Sunday morning was a bit quiet.  I kept trying to find some of my TNT kiddos and they seemed to have wandered off.  Many of them were withdrawn and some were outwardly nervous.  Few were very smiley.

Come the finish line and each and every one of them finished with a smile on their face and each and every one of them cheered and got excited as the others crossed the finish line.  I am so proud of all of them!  The smiles on their faces when they finished are engrained in my mind.  They were like gossipy school kids when they finished, asking each other how they did and how they felt.  One of my guys told me he swam the entire distance without stopping.  This was HUGE for him.  HUGE!  Again, it grounds me to see the pure joy that can come from someone completing the entire swim of a sprint distance race.  Another one of my participants knocked 19 minutes off of her previous time at Disco.  19 MINUTES!  She was bouncing around with a Cheshire Cat smile on her face.  The best part to me?  That they were sharing this excitement with their Teammates.    

As much as I would like to attribute part of their success on Sunday to my tutu and Monica’s afro wig and sunglasses, I think it had to do a lot more with hard work on their part.  That day I was thanked time and time again (and so was Monica who is ROCKING as an assistant coach this season!) for getting them to the point they were at that day.  It made me so proud of them and proud to know that I could bring that much joy to someone just by coaching them.  I’m only part of the equation though.  My TNT kiddos have put in a ton of hard work this season and I can’t wait to see them all complete their events.  I know there is a long way to go and a lot of nerves, but they are more prepared than they realize.  When their big day comes they’ll have smiles on their faces for weeks to follow.

About two years ago I figured out what I wanted to be when I grow up.  It took me two years to fully realize it and take the leap.  I’ve made significant changes in my life this year.  The next couple of years aren’t going to be easy, but with hard work and support of some amazing friends, I know I’ll reach my dream. 

Bag o' Tricks

If you are a triathlete you have received (or bought) enough bags during your tri-life to send a family of five on a two week ski vacation, so why don’t you put one of those bags to good use on a daily basis?

Have you ever packed for your after work ride, run or swim only to get to the trails and realize, crap, you’ve forgotten your socks, visor, sunglasses, goggles or (ladies) your sports bra.  What oh what do you do?  Tell your training buddies you’re heading out for a beer and you’ll see them there after they finish their training?  I don’t think so. 

I used to belong do the Downtown YMCA.  I headed over for a lunchtime run one day only to realize I’d left my sports bra at home.  I had no time after work to get my run in, so it was now or never…what to do, what to do.  I stared at my locker for a bit and then pulled out my swimsuit.  I’ve seen plenty of women doing entire triathlons in swimsuits and never could figure out how it would be very comfortable.  So, I figured on this day of my forgetfulness, I might as well try something new in order to get my workout in.  I threw on my bathing suit, running shorts and a shirt and headed to the treadmill.  It was a HOT run, bathing suit material DOES NOT BREATH!  But I got my workout in.  If I hadn’t had that extra suit in my locker, I may not have gotten my workout in, which wouldn’t have made me very happy.

Yes, as a child, I was a Girl Scout and I still live by the motto “be prepared”.  I keep a bag in my car that I call my “bag o’ tricks”.  If I head out for a workout and realize I’ve forgotten something, my bag has a backup for almost everything I need in it.

Here are my contents:

-          Swimsuit

-          Swim Cap

-          Goggles

-          Contacts

-          Running shorts

-          Running shirt

-          Sports bra

-          Socks

-          Visor

-          Gym towel (can be used as a mini swim towel)

-          Jacket (winter)

-          Gloves (winter)

-          Ear warmer (winter)

-          Two produce bags (winter)…what are these for, you ask?  Ever forget your toe covers while riding in the winter?  Wrap a produce bag in the toes of your shoes and it helps a little.

Now I don’t have an old pair of bike shorts in there or running or cycle shoes, so if I forget certain things then I’m out of luck (I do carry about four pairs of sunglasses with me at all times, so I should never be short on those!), but I can pretty much pull off a workout with what’s in the bag if I have to.  I’d suggest adding things like body glide and Chapstick, but for those of us who live in hot climates it wouldn’t last a day without melting all over your extra gear.

Speaking of extreme summer heat…I have an extra helmet in the car too.  It’s one that came to its demise one hot summer day a couple years ago when I thought it was a good idea to leave it in the car (in direct sunlight) all day.  The case is melted, but it’s been used by multiple people when they’ve forgotten their helmet.  It’s a million times better than nothing!

As it turns out, I’ve used this bag more to loan things to people than for myself, but it has come in handy for myself every once in awhile.  Go through your plethora of bags and grab some old training gear that you don’t use often (don’t lie to yourself, each of us could probably put three of these bags together with all the extra gear we have) and create your own “bag o’ tricks”.  It will save your butt one day, or make you a hero to a training buddy that has forgotten their oh-so-important goggles.

Race Day Life Support

Could you do a triathlon swim without goggles?  Sure, but it would be very uncomfortable and heaven forbid you wear contacts or you might come into T1 blind.  How about completing the ride in a long course race in tennis shoes, now that you have fancy shmancy clipless pedals and shoes?  Yep, but you’d lose a lot of power.  How about doing the run in the blazing heat of at Texas summer without your hat/visor or sunglasses?  Of course!  But you’d get such a headache that you’d want to quit far before you reached the finish line.

So how much thought have you put into the importance of volunteers on race day?  Are they as vital as your goggles, bike shoes, or sunglasses?  As triathletes we focus on every aspect of the sport that can shave a nanosecond here and a millisecond there.  Do you ever factor the importance of volunteers into this?  They’re all relevant and necessary to a successful race day.

Don’t feel bad if I’ve left your favorite volunteer task off, I promised to try and keep these things short and I’m really trying my best to do so. 

Wetsuit strippers – aside from the fact that these poor rookie volunteers have no clue that they’re getting more than just water thrown on them each time they strip a wetsuit, these folks save you time.  Have you tried to get out of a wetsuit on your own?  I have, it sucks.  You step on it, you pull it, you sit down (WHAT???  Who would sit in transition, certainly not anyone that knows what they’re doing), you turn in circles, like a dog or cat trying to get comfortable before they lie down, then you just stop, take a deep breath and reassess the situation.  THEN, then that is when you finally get your wetsuit off.   I tried a new wetsuit on once when I was home alone and learned NEVER to do that again.  By the time I got it on I was sweating so much the darn thing had suctioned itself to my body.  I went from door to door (in a skin tight black suit in the dark) trying to find a neighbor to answer their door and help me out of the neoprene death grip.  No one answered.  Odd.  Point is, wetsuit strippers save you time.  I had a guy run all the way up to T1 with me at a race one time because the zipper on my wetsuit was stuck.  I was ready to go it alone, but he kept yelling (encouraging may be a better word) me to keep running while he tried to get the zipper undone.  It takes no time, while they’re handing you your wetsuit, to thank them.  So, thank them.

Bottle hand-up volunteers – You know those long rides we do?  The rides where we have to factor in where the convenience stores are so we can stop and get more water because we’re riding for five hours and there’s just no way (even with my rigging up every water bottle possible and, yes, a camel back) to carry enough water.   You know how your legs get stiff every time you stop?  How you lose your pace and rhythm?  Imagine doing that every 10 miles on the bike course.  Having to stop and get off your bike and refill.  O.M.G.  Who can even imagine having to do THAT?  That would drop your pace down a good ½mph or more.  And that, that is a lot of time in a race.  So when you eye your bottle hand-up volunteer, point to them and as you grab your bottle say a simple “thank you.”  Again, this adds zero time to your race, BUT they’ve just saved you time.

Sunscreen application volunteers – I find that these folks are few and far between, especially at the races that I need them most at (ahem, Galveston).  They seem to come out later in the race, but for those of us of German and English descent, whose skin leans towards the English side and being TOTALLY pale and were in an earlier wave they are often hard to come by.  When they are available and drowning your skin with a thick coat of a white pore choking substance, remember that they are saving you time from applying your own sunscreen.  Ever try to use spray sunscreen (so your hands don’t slip on the bike) after swimming?  How well does that stick to wet skin?  They are also saving you time in the form of doctor’s appointments and cancer treatments for skin cancer.  So, thank them.

Water Stop Volunteers – These volunteers are lifesavers.  Imagine having to carry enough hydration to get you through your race.  You know how heavy that would be?  I have learned, through being yelled at as a volunteer, to thank these folks.  I volunteered at El Scorcho once and was handing out what I was told was Gatorade.  As a woman came around for another lap, I called out “Gatorade” and handed her a cup.  She took a swig, spit it out, threw the cup down, and turned around screaming at me “that is not Gatorade!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  It made me never want to volunteer again.  She was scary!  Now, when I volunteer, I simply say “sports drink”, I figure that’s safer.  These folks  are your key to successful race.  I had a great volunteer experience once when I was wanting water at a race.  I ran through the stop yelling “water” and there wasn’t any ready.  As I passed the stop,  mouth parched but  not wanting the sweet nectar of a sticky sports drink, I heard the pitter-patter of feet behind me and a small voice saying “ma’am, ma’am”.  One of the volunteers was running after me with a cup of water.  That made my race!  Thank these volunteers.  Even if you can’t get the words out while you’re throwing down a cup of sports drink and drenching your head with a cup of water, a simple wave will do the trick.

Police Officers/Traffic Control – I don’t think I need to go into detail here why these volunteers are so vitally important.  Not only do they allow you to continue through congested intersections without stopping, they also protect your lives.  I thank every one of them.  Even on a loop course, where I see them more than once, I do my best to thank them every time.  Now, they are getting paid to be out there, but it can’t be an easy job in the middle of the Texas summer.  So thank them. 

Ironman Changing tent volunteers – WOW.  That is all I can really say.  For those of you who have yet to do an Ironman, you will experience some of the most amazing volunteers in the changing tent.  In Coeur d’Alene, I stood in the women’s changing tent with my sports bra pulled over my head and only about halfway on.  For any woman that has tried to put a sports bra on while wet or any guy who has tried to put on a tri top while dripping with lake water, you know it’s not an easy feat.  I grabbed the arm of the volunteer and just said, “will you please help me?”  Now, I am not good at asking for help, but I knew I wasn’t going to make it out of the tent in the manner of “dress” that I was currently in, so I needed help.  She stopped what she was doing and took my bag from me.  As she started pulling things out she would say, “Is it an arm warmer day?  Is it a gloves day?  Etc.”  I would have liked to think at the age of 29 I was totally capable of dressing myself.  But in this situation, maybe it was my half frozen fingers from the frigid lake water, the help was overwhelming.  I must have thanked her every time she helped me put something on (she truly dressed me, I don’t think I even put my own socks on).  These volunteers are fabulous and without her, I would probably have been in the changing tent for at least another 5 minutes.

If you have never volunteered for an event, even a local 5K, go do it.  Take a morning off training and go volunteer.  You will be amazed at the appreciation you receive and how great it is to volunteer at an event and help others do what you love to do.  Take yourself out of being the one that needs to be supported and support others.  It will bring to light just how amazing the volunteers are that make every one of your races possible for you.