Yep, she got banged up but she made it through both races. To tell the whole story will take quite a while, so get some nutrition and hydration going, put your feet up, and bear with me – or not. These are just my own experiences and, frankly, my ramblings. I’m no expert, but I do have a lot to say about what is probably my once-in-a-lifetime thing. Besides, I’ll get more out of this core dump than anyone else because it helps me to process these experiences in the full light of day. So, enter at your own risk! I’m throwing caution to the winds and letting it all hang out.
After a long-ish overview, I’ll describe the aquathlon first and then the sprint triathlon. Did I mention that this will be the world’s longest Worlds race report? It’s more than 11 pages. Be forewarned.
Overview
Worlds is a lot like “The Amazing Race” – long periods of sitting on planes and buses, short periods of great physical intensity, a significant amount of confusion and frustration, and moments of utter elation. In years to come, I’m sure I’ll remember that last item and forget the rest. Isn’t selective memory terrific?
Also like “TAR,” Worlds held many surprises for me:
• Other countries don’t produce as many athletes in my age group as the US. Where have all the old gals and guys gone? Not to triathlon every one, though a Canadian woman took gold in my age group in the sprint. The US was also quite well represented in the younger age groups, especially on the male side. Only in the Elites did I see dominance by other countries. The kid I talked to in our hotel lobby said he was the second fastest American but didn’t make the showing he wanted. (The Elites, by the way, get a different warm-up jacket with a red yoke and a large “USA” in white – very nice!)
• Triathlons in Austin are better organized and better conducted than Worlds in Budapest, and there’s only so much you can blame on the language barrier. I talked with an American woman in my age group who had been in Vancouver a few years ago. She said it was chaotic there. No wonder the World Triathlon Corporation, owner of the Ironman® symbol, is giving the International Triathlon Union a run for its money. For the Olympic race on Sunday, it was raining so hard that volunteers didn’t show up early enough to put out cones for the bike course. The first wave was the Juniors. The fastest four got hopelessly lost on the narrow, winding streets of downtown Buda (west of the Danube) and couldn’t finish the race. A high school senior from Corpus was one of the seven who got stranded overnight in Frankfurt with me, so I heard the whole story first hand. The most ironic part is that when the four kids realized they didn’t know where to go, they saw an official on a motorcycle coming toward them. He then made a U-turn in front of them and looked back at them. Wouldn’t you also assume that he intended to lead you through the course? Not so. The guy sped up and peeled off after a couple of miles. The four kids biked around aimlessly and finally stumbled upon the run course. It’s also ironic that the weather cleared up beautifully about mid-morning, so later waves enjoyed sunny, blue skies and had to apply sunscreen. If only the Juniors had started later, this kid might have gone home with a medal. He showed a lot of maturity by taking the loss in stride. It probably helped that one of the service academies is trying to recruit him for their triathlon team.
• Athletes and volunteers from all countries are kind, helpful, and encouraging to each other. I didn’t see any cut-throat competition, at least not in my waves of 55+ women, and I didn’t hear any complaints from younger athletes. Sportsmanship prevails, no matter what uniform you’re wearing. If you make an effort to say “Thank you” in the language you think they speak, they’re even more accepting. (I recognized a French accent from a volunteer on the bike course and called out “Merci!” I got “Avec plaisir!” back, not just “De rien.”) Since there were hardly any Hungarian spectators along the courses, the only cowbelling was from athletes, volunteers, friends, and family members. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN!!) I gotta say, though, that there’s no thrill quite like the one you get when a buff young Hungarian guy passes you on the bike and shouts, “Go, KellEEE!” I pedaled my heart out, but I just couldn’t catch him. Hey, so what if it was a pity cheer. I’ll take it!
• ITU officials were everywhere on the bike course, and were they ever diligent about enforcing the no-drafting rule! The penalty boxes were clearly marked with white paint on the pavement (one near the end of the bike course for those caught during the first loop and one near the beginning of the run course for those caught on the second loop). Since my sprint wave started last and I’m so slow anyway, I didn’t actually see anyone serving time in the penalty box, but on Sunday I overheard a some Elite Australian Olympians complaining about penalties.
• Time cut-offs aren’t as important at Worlds as I had anticipated. At the aquathlon pre-race meeting, I asked if we had to finish within a certain time and was told, “No.” They let me finish and that’s the only way I got the medal. I was much slower than the 77-year-old who won her age group. For the sprint, I was told in no uncertain terms that the cut-off of 2:25:00 would be enforced, but it wasn’t. Just before I turned onto the Chain Bridge less than one-tenth of a mile from the run finish on the Pest side of the Danube, I heard an official on a motorcycle say my name and bib number (2507) on his walkie-talkie. I almost held out my wrists for the handcuffs, but he didn’t pull me off the course. The two or three people behind me were also allowed to finish but the third American (last year’s gold medalist) was listed with a DNF. I didn’t hang around to see if these folks got a finisher’s medal.
Other factors weren’t surprising at all:
• Paratriathletes continue to be the most inspiring people out there, to me at least. I don’t care if there are only a few competitors in each of the five categories (depending on loss of one or two legs, an arm, sight, hearing, or whatever). They cope with their loss, they train, they manage a lot more equipment than anyone else, they show up, they finish. They also rely on and trust their support team to do for them what they can’t do for themselves. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN). In the Budapest airport on my way home, I talked with a Canadian above-knee amputee and her husband, who also races as an age grouper. She had lost her leg to an IED in Iraq, but since she was a triathlete before the injury, she was determined to be a triathlete afterwards. I hadn’t known that most paras are encouraged to race only the sprint, not the Olympic, and I hadn’t known that above-knee amputees can’t stand in the pedals to go faster. The most heart-breaking para story that I observed happened Sunday on the Olympic bike course. A young Brazilian guy whose right arm was missing had a flat on his back tire – I heard the pop – and pulled over. Fighting tears with a brave face, he leaned his bike against his body and pinched the tire with his left thumb and fingers. He shook his head and started pushing the bike along the course. There was no way he could make the repair himself. Since I was only a spectator, I wasn’t allowed to help him either. I hope the official heading toward him called a mechanic, but I don’t know what happened to him. His race may have been over, as it was for several people that day.
• Racing is racing, no matter where it takes place. If you can race in Austin, you can race at Worlds. You might have to jump into very cold water, you might have to race in the rain, you might not have the hills you like, you might have to jump over potholes in the street, you might not have many spectators to cheer you on (THANK YOU, CAROLYN), you might not know any of the other racers, you might not get a chance to look at the historic buildings along the course, you might be tired and cranky from loss of sleep and strange food, and you might have all kinds of problems, but you can do it. If you love the swim or the bike or the run or all three in Austin, you’ll love them at Worlds. If you can do things that are hard for you in Austin, you can do them at Worlds. If you’re a racer here, you’re a racer everywhere. Go for it!
• Representing the USA is just as much of a thrill as I’d thought it would be. Wearing the colors, bringing home the medals, cheering for other Americans, embracing the freedom our country provides where even old ladies can get out and do crazy things – I’ll remember these details forever. I had a minor disappointment that the Parade of Nations didn’t take place as I had envisioned. The athletes didn’t march in a stadium the way they do at the Olympics. Instead, Hungarian volunteers carried the flag and a poster bearing the country’s name across the room where the athletes were milling about while rock music from each country played for a minute or so. It was hard to see anything in the crowd. I wish I had counted the number of flags, but it felt like 40-50, more than I had originally thought. And rock may be our most influential export. Who’d a thunk?
• Did I mention that this is a very long race report? You might want to take a break before the aquathlon story.
The Aquathlon: Wednesday, September 8, 1:00 p.m.
I’m so glad this race didn’t start first thing in the morning because I might not have made it. The day was dreary, overcast, and (to my Austin bones) chilly. There were rumors that the officials would shorten the race by lopping off the first 2.5K run because the water was cold enough to REQUIRE a wetsuit. It’s one thing to run, swim, run in decent weather, but quite another when the water is really cold. I couldn’t imagine cramming even a slightly sweaty body into a wetsuit. When we were bused from the hotel to the race site Tuesday afternoon for the pre-race meeting and packet pick-up (both of which were totally disorganized), we heard that the rumored change was official. We were to swim only 1000 meters and run 2.5K. I was grateful I could take my time getting into my wetsuit and grateful to be reasonably warm before the race. That was a relief, and so was the good news that no time cut-off would be enforced. However, there were a few glitches.
The first glitch was that my race packet contained no chip. There was no bib either, but then no one got a bib. (On race day, we were body marked.) I was told to come back just before the race the next day to get my chip, but Carolyn marched me to the information desk to get things straightened out then and there. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN). A volunteer who spoke much better English than the one who sang “Tomorrow, tomorrow,” so to speak, actually got me a chip and a race number – 612. When I got to the transition area on race day, there was no marker on the rack for 612, so I placed my shoes, socks, running hat, and transition towel in an empty spot beside # 611. This turned out to be okay, but it really felt strange to set up my transition area with racks but no bikes.
The second glitch was the water temperature in Lagymanyosi Bay just off the Danube River. Rumors were flying all over as to whether it was 12 degrees Celsius, 13 degrees, or 14 degrees. Carolyn assured me it was only a little colder than Barton Springs, low sixties, where I had trained several times with Tri Zoners. If I had grasped that even the warmest number being circulated was 57.2 degrees Fahrenheit, the inside of my wetsuit might have gone chocolate with fear. For sparing me the truth and encouraging me to start the race, THANK YOU, CAROLYN.
We got a short “warm-up” swim which took my breath away, and not from excitement. It felt icy! The water looked a bit like the lake at the Texas Ski Ranch – you couldn’t see anyone’s bubbles or even your own hands – but it was clay-ish green, like cold split pea soup. I don’t think I’ll ever know what possessed me to stay on that pontoon and jump BACK into that water. I knew it was cold. I know I don’t like cold water. (In southern Chile, Shannon and I chased ill-tempered llamas to avoid jumping into cold water!) I thought I’d have trouble breathing. I guess I just got caught up in the moment. Thank goodness the race started immediately. By the way, the ITU skips the “Get set” part and goes from “On your mark” to the blast of the starting horn. I was a little surprised and stayed by the pontoon for a few seconds, but then I never go out with the others.
What can I say about the swim? It was tougher than I could have imagined. I went out too fast, of course, in a desperate attempt to get warm. For each and every one of those 1000 meters, I was cold. The skin on my bare arms was stinging. Nearly everyone else had long sleeves. (Note to self if there’s ever a next time: Purchase long sleeved suit.) But here’s the mystery – if I was so cold, how come my goggles fogged up so thoroughly? For about three-quarters of the race, I couldn’t see a thing. I missed the two buoys we were to swim through near the swim exit. A kayaker had to herd me toward them. I made a U-turn and probably added 20-30 meters to my swim. The whole time, I was too terrified to stop and clear my goggles. I have no words to explain why. Maybe I was afraid that if I stopped, I wouldn’t get started again. Maybe I was afraid I’d sink. I certainly wasn’t rational. I doubt many of us were. It’s blooming crazy to get into water that cold!
There were only two things to be grateful for on that swim: The first is that it was finally over, and the second is that my legs and feet didn’t knot up painfully until near the end. Those last 60-70 meters were arms only. When I tried to stand and hobble out of the water, my legs wouldn’t hold me up. I fell a couple of times and had to crawl toward the grass. It was very, very green. I focused on its lush softness. (By the way, ITU provides no handsome firemen, or anyone else for that matter, to pull people out of the water.) By the time I finally got vertical and in motion, I was certain I had torn my right calf muscle. There was horizontal pain toward the lower end of the big gastrocnemius bulge. I never go fast to my transition area, but this time I really limped. The struggle to get out of my wetsuit and into my socks and shoes, however, distracted me from the pain, so I decided to set forth as best I could. Besides, the air temperature felt a bit chilly so I needed to warm up.
One thing you can always count on about a run is this – no matter how crappy you feel at first, no matter how much you think something hurts, no matter how discouraged you are, no matter how much that little devil on your shoulder tells you to quit, you ALWAYS feel better – eventually – if you can just listen to the angel on the other shoulder that tells you to keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. Just do it. Just keep moving. You’ll feel better sooner or later, if not now, then surely “Tomorrow, tomorrow.” By the end of the run, I felt almost okay.
I’m certain I was the last one out of the water and the last one off the run course. Fortunately, it was a loop, so I saw a couple of other slow ladies to cheer for. One of them (in a red uniform, maybe a Canadian) looked to be in worse shape than I was – pronounced limp, grimace, side lean, one fist clenched to her abdomen – all signs of trouble. But she kept moving. With that example, how could I quit? I mean, really! I think I kept going to honor her spirit. Besides, the run was only a mile and a half. Surely, I could do it if Shirley the Canadian could. (Wouldn’t it be funny if that was her name?) So the worst thing about the run was that I did it, and the best thing about that run was that I did it. I did warm up a little, and most of my cramped leg and foot muscles relaxed enough to make locomotion possible.
When the aquathlon was finally over, I was ready to curl up in a warm bed, but Carolyn gave me my warm, dry after-race clothes (THANK YOU, CAROLYN) and then suggested that we hike over to race headquarters and look at the results. Since the start lists weren’t posted ahead of time, I had no idea how many people were in my age group. When Carolyn pointed out that I was listed as the first (I just now deleted “and only” because I’m not allowed to mention that fact ever again), I was so dazed I couldn’t really take it in. She walked me over to a nearby eatery and we had a late lunch while waiting for the awards ceremony which was to start at 4:30. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
Climbing up on that podium and receiving the gold medal nearly did me in. I may have plastered a huge smile on my face, but I was holding back too many emotions to list. Joy finally triumphed, and I suddenly found myself very proud to be a 72-year-old American standing in Budapest near the Danube River with tangible proof of a world title for the USA around my neck. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of other people could have taken that title, but I’m the one who dressed out and showed up and finished. It counts just as much for the USA as gold in a 100-person wave. Now, there’s no reason to take pride in my time of 1:07:10, but there’s every reason to be proud of showing up and finishing. THANK YOU, CAROLYN. I couldn’t have done that race without you.
Now would be a good time to take a break because the sprint story is next. Did I mention just how long this report is? Do you believe me now?
The Sprint Triathlon: Saturday, September 11, 8:20 a.m.
If I amazed myself by finishing that tough aquathlon, I absolutely astonished myself with the sprint triathlon, but not in the way you might think. The astonishing part is how my mind functioned – not very darned well. I would be ashamed of myself if I hadn’t subsequently learned so much about how my brain works. Massage therapists talk about “referred pain” and never rub you where you say it hurts. I think I experienced “referred fear.” It was too scary to think about the cold water and the leg cramping, so I distracted myself by worrying about the time limit.
When I found out after arriving in Budapest that my wave would start at 8:20 and that the course would close at 10:45, I began fretting about making the time cut-off of 2:25:00. I had never raced that fast in my life. On Thursday, I asked several 55+ US women what happens when an athlete is pulled off the course. They looked at me skeptically but couldn’t tell me because this had never happened to them. Fine! On Friday, I found a USAT person and asked. He assured me that the time limit was in effect and that I’d probably be driven back to the race start. Great! That news made me start worrying about how and where to meet Carolyn since she would be at the run finish. My cell got no service and neither did hers. Peachy!
My brain trolley went off the tracks. Silently, I griped and whined that I had stated my expected finish time as 2:40:00 on my team application form. Then I sniveled to myself that USAT shouldn’t have invited me to join the team if I would just get myself disqualified. I wished I’d never heard of Budapest. I wanted to go home. The pity party was in full swing, but only inside my head. On Friday evening, I finally got up the nerve to talk to Carolyn about it. I went on and on about whether to start, when to scratch, what to do, where to meet if I DQ’ed. Whine, whine, whine. She was very, very patient with me. She knew a bad case of nerves when she saw one. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
To backtrack a moment in further praise of Carolyn, on either Wednesday or Thursday, we had cruised through the booths at the Expo where she advised me to get a neoprene skull cap to keep my head warmer for the sprint. That should have comforted me. She also pointed out that the air and water temperatures were warming up a bit and that the prediction was for more warming by Saturday. That should have been good news. She mentioned that the sprint swim was 250 meters shorter than the aquathlon swim. That should have made me feel better. (THANK YOU FOR TRYING, CAROLYN.)
But no! I was determined to see my pout through to the bitter end. Finally, on Friday night I got out a pen and paper and added up what I remembered of my typical race times. If I did the swim in 33 minutes, which I’ve occasionally done before, finished the bike in an hour (only 12 mph, which I’ve usually done), and completed the run in 50 minutes (difficult but maybe do-able if the calf cramp subsided), I stood a ghost of a chance of making it, or so I thought. When I expressed this happy conclusion to Carolyn, she calmly and confidently said, “You can do it.” (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
After a welcome nanosecond of utter euphoria, some cold, hard truths asserted themselves – I hadn’t included T1 and T2, I hadn’t factored in my still very painful calf muscle, and I hadn’t even thought about the cold, cold water. Danger, danger, Will Robinson! Distraction! Distraction! Don’t think about the water! Don’t think about the leg pain! So I resumed my silent worries about the time cut-off as I went to bed the night before the race.
I wish I could say that I was smart enough at that moment to recognize the “referred fear,” but only yesterday and today have I admitted to myself that I wasn’t so afraid of the cold water itself but of what it might do to me. I believe now that I was flat out scared to death of cramping and injuring my leg even more, thus ending my so-called athletic career. I’ve only just begun to race. Three years aren’t enough. May I have just a few more, please, please, please?
So on race morning, I was still stewing. Although I was going through some of the proper motions – dressing out in full uniform, gathering up my gear, visualizing my transition spot, eating a good breakfast, putting on my game face – I was worried and it showed. Carolyn told me that I was a big girl and that I could call it if I wanted to. No one was going to make me race. Others had already scratched. That was exactly the right thing to say. Just as the bus was about to arrive at the race site, I told her, “I think I want to start the race.” I figured I’d take it leg by leg and see how far I could go. She probably made some encouraging reply, but I was so into my own stuff that I don’t actually recall it. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
What I do remember is that she took me through a checklist just before I entered the swim start check-in. “What are you going to do?” she repeatedly asked. I said I would start, I would go out slow, I would go wide, and things like that. I had defogged my goggles to within an inch of their lives, so I hoped I’d be able to see the buoys. Then she reminded me to sight often, sight often, sight often. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
We didn’t get a “warm-up” swim. That plunge into the water felt really, really icy, but it was the last one I would have to do in Budapest. Before I knew it, the horn sounded. I followed my strategy as best I could, but I had trouble catching my breath. The water was no colder than it had been on Wednesday, but the humidity index felt much higher and it actually started sprinkling before I got on the bike course. Five or six times, I had to breast stroke for a moment and get a good breath. Once, I even thought about turning over on my back, but I hadn’t practiced that in a wetsuit. Fortunately, my goggles let me see the buoys, and I didn’t go very far off course.
A digression recounting the experience of Margaret, who is 73 and took gold last year for the USA, will drive home just how brutal that swim was. Though admitting that swimming is her least favorite part of triathlon, she has always managed to finish. After the race, she told me that throughout the swim she wasn’t sure she was going to make it. Early in the swim, she turned over on her back and looked around for the rescue boat. It was nowhere in sight. So she paddled on, using more breast stroke than free style because she couldn’t catch her breath. Many of us had trouble breathing. She said the shoreline was looking mighty good, but there was a seawall that would have been difficult for her to climb. For the second time she tried to find the rescue boat. No luck. She struggled on. Three more times she turned over on her back and fully expected the rescue boat to come pull her out. Each time, she had to say a few curse words, which I won’t repeat, and make the decision to keep going. She swears she was the last person out of the water, but I didn’t know it at the time. I really admire her determination!
My swim exit was a tiny bit more graceful than it had been on Wednesday, and I don’t think I fell down at all. I think Carolyn called out my swim split to me, but I can’t remember it now. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.) The slog up the hill to my bike felt much longer and wetter than it did for the aquathlon. I saw drowned worms, little gray-pink squiggles, everywhere in the grass. When I reached my bike, I was astonished to see that a couple of bikes were still racked. One was Margaret’s. I took no comfort from this because she had said she was a strong biker. I fully expected her to catch me. If you’ve ever seen an old lady futz around and hurry at the same time, you know what I was going through. I whipped on my bandanna, helmet, and camelback and didn’t even bother with socks. I just stepped into those sopping bike shoes and pulled on the Velcro like the young fry. Then I ran at least an eighth of a mile in ankle deep mud before reaching the mount line. Fortunately, I forgot all about calf pain.
When I took off on the bike, I went slowly at first on slick pavement in the rain and then a bit faster when I realized I probably wouldn’t fall any more often than usual. No one but slow second-loopers were still out there, so I took advantage of their familiarity with the course and watched as they navigated around puddles, manhole covers, and assorted debris. Not once did I look back for Margaret, but I expected her to whiz past at any moment. She didn’t.
When I finally got my legs under me and saw that the gears and brakes worked fine, I realized I’d probably finish the bike unless something horrible happened. Suddenly, about half way through the first loop, I experienced one of those moments of elation. Utter euphoria flowed through me. I was all by myself on the streets of Budapest, wearing a TeamUSA uniform and racing for the sheer joy of it. It’s a good thing my glasses were streaked with rain so no one could see the tears as I talked to my late mother and father. Then I talked to each of my four wonderful children. I talked to my nine lovely grandchildren. I may even have whooped and hollered just a little, quietly, of course. Never before have I had such an intense sense of pleasure during a race. (Not getting eliminated first on "The Amazing Race" comes close.) Hanging on to that feeling will get me through many unpleasant things that may happen during the rest of my life. It was magic. The second loop was just a blur.
Then came the humongously long run into T2. It was at least a quarter of a mile on slick grass and mud. With drowned worms everywhere. In the rain. I could almost feel Margaret and another couple of 55+ women on my heels. I probably appeared to be stepping on hot coals. However, I took the time to put on socks. Despite the plastic bag I’d used, they were damp to wet from the get-go. Then on the way to run out, I sloshed through ankle deep mud, and they were really wet. The bad news is that those shoes still stink to high heaven. The good news is that I didn’t see Margaret and the others.
Somehow, I started the run pretty well. I felt good. I didn’t even think about pain. After all, I had gone to Medical on Thursday and had had a very painful chiropractic treatment. I’d also engaged the hotel masseuse for an equally painful massage because the poor little girl had no idea what she was doing. But oh well. I had done what I could to take care of myself. Now it was all up to me, or so I thought.
The run course was right beside the Danube River, which wasn’t blue at all, by the way. It looked like the same cold split pea soup as Lagymanyosi Bay, only with swift currents and large barges. Despite the rain and the scarcity of marker cones, the run was actually very nice. I just trucked along, trying to remember my technique mantras – shoulders back, head up, quick feet, high knees, relaxed shoulders, loose hands. I passed one bridge, two bridges, three bridges, and became a little concerned that I wouldn’t recognize the bridge I was supposed to use to cross the river to the Pest side. Then I remembered it was the Chain Bridge, which would be blocked off from traffic. The fourth bridge had traffic flowing. Rats! Hope it’s the next one.
All of a sudden, I heard my name and looked up. There on a street lane higher than the one I was on appeared Carolyn. She shouted encouragement. She ran just ahead of me and kept calling out to me. When our paths converged, she ran right beside me. I couldn’t have been happier. She came out of nowhere just as I was getting really tired and sloppy in technique. She helped me sooooo much! The race wasn't just up to me any longer – Carolyn was there to help! (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
Just before I turned onto the Chain Bridge toward the finish, I risked a quick glance back and saw Margaret and a German woman about 50 to 75 yards behind me. If I didn’t fall down or screw up big time, and if they didn’t have a huge finishing sprint in them, I wouldn’t be the last person out there. Then along came the official on the motorcycle who I thought would pull me and the others off the course. But he didn’t! He didn’t! I was allowed to cross the finish line!
The whole race finish is a bit of a blur. I was dimly aware of loud music and the voice of an announcer, but I couldn’t spare any cycles for listening. A couple of numbers, “two twenty-seven” something penetrated my brain, and I figured that was my time. I didn’t make the cut-off, but I stayed ahead of those two women. The German put on a great sprint and came in just a few seconds after me, but I don’t know how much farther back Margaret was. All I knew was that I finished third in my age group and bested last year’s gold medalist and a younger German. That was enough for me.
After I’d gotten a blanket, some water, and a banana, Carolyn found me and started walking me to the barge that would take us along the Danube and back to the transition area. She asked a question I couldn’t comprehend. I must have said something brilliant, like “Huh?” because she repeated the question: “Did you hear what the announcer said when you finished?” Well, not really. “He said you got bronze.” What? What? It can’t be. I missed the time cut-off. “That’s what he said.” At that point, I lost control of myself. I broke down like a baby. I cried and whimpered and screamed and behaved as I hadn’t done in 65 years. She pulled my head down to her shoulder and patted me on the back. (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
I don’t know how long I was in that state of helpless, wide-open gratitude mixed with elation and disbelief. The next thing I knew, we were standing in line to get on the barge, and I suddenly realized that Carolyn was dripping wet and probably very cold. She wouldn’t take my blanket and she wouldn’t take my place under the awning. She insisted on taking care of me. Not many people have done that for me in the past 65 years. If I ever hear a rumor that Carolyn is even thinking of saying “Frog,” I’ll start jumping before I know how high. Whatever Carolyn wants, Carolyn gets. Yes, I know I’m being obnoxious, but so what? I owe this girl, who’s the age of my oldest daughter, far more than I can ever repay, but that’s not going to stop me from trying. So there! (THANK YOU, CAROLYN.)
The remainder of Saturday is vague in my mind. Somehow, we got my bike and gear out of transition, and Carolyn wheeled it a mile or so to the bus that would take us back to the hotel. I’m pretty sure I spent the afternoon in bed under a thick duvet trying to get warm, while Carolyn went shopping. We must have eaten lunch and dinner. I think Carolyn took my bike to Jack for break down and boxing because the job got done. She must have packed to leave at the crack of dawn on Sunday. I can’t swear to anything.
All afternoon, two refrains chased themselves through my mind – “I didn’t cripple myself. Yay!” and “They’ll never give me the bronze. I missed the cut-off.” It took reading the USAT press release that night, which clearly listed me as the bronze medalist, to convince myself that it actually happened. In a strange way, I find myself happier about the bronze than the gold because in my mind the bronze validates the gold. I raced for that third place, while I considered the aquathlon a test case for the sprint. Among amateur aquathletes in my age group, however, the gold means on that particular day in that particular race I was the best in the world because I showed up and finished. Now, if I ever find a professional aquathlete in my age group who raced that day, I’ll surrender the medal, but I’m not holding my breath. There aren’t many who make a living at triathlon, let alone aquathlon. If it weren’t for age groupers, there would be no USAT and no ITU, so let’s celebrate the triumph of amateur hour. Long may it sing in the hearts of wanna-be and gonna-be athletes!
Sunday after Carolyn left, I felt disorganized and almost lonesome, so I went out to the race site and watched some of the Olympic age group swim starts. On the long walk there, I saw the Brazilian paratriathlete who had the flat tire. The sun came out, the skies turned blue, the temperature warmed up, and I enjoyed sitting in the sun and feeling my damp clothes drying. I sympathized with the couple of swimmers who abandoned the race because I could so easily have been one of them on Wednesday, Saturday, or both. I was very, very lucky that I didn’t get into serious distress. I rather admired a man in the 55+ wave from Sweden. He did what Margaret thought about doing. He struggled to the seawall and pulled himself out of the water. This set off all kinds of alarms among the rescue community, and about seven EMT folks rushed to his side with a wheelchair, blankets, IV equipment, and such. He waved them off with obvious irritation, and they finally left him alone. He sat there on the seawall for at least half an hour, no doubt taking care of himself mentally and emotionally since he didn’t need any physical help. Tough race.
When I got hungry for lunch, I went back to the hotel and then decided to take a nap since all the stores were closed on Sunday. Though shopping is at the bottom of my skills assessment, I thought I’d try to find a few things to bring home. Alas, it was not to be. So I made a feeble attempt to dry some of my clothes before packing for the trip home. Thanks to an unexpected overnight in Frankfurt, I may have to throw away the moldiest socks and some stinky shoes. But not the TeamUSA clothing. That’s all salvageable.
As for the closing awards ceremony Sunday night, I wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t wanted my shiny object. Both the opening ceremony and this one would have been pretty disappointing if I’d expected anything. Chaos reigned. As it was, I stayed only long enough to collect my loot and to ask a bystander to snap a picture of me with the US silver medalist in sprint, Pattie. (Her time was astonishingly better than mine – 1:54 something to my 2:27:30.)
My main take-aways from this experience are pretty important to me, if to no one else in the world. I learned a lot about myself. I found out that I’m stronger and tougher than I thought I was. The word “wimp” is no longer in my vocabulary. I discovered that I hide my real fears under a layer of superficial worries. Well, emotional honesty and strength are lifelong pursuits, aren’t they? I found out that I’m hard to take care of, partly because I’m so butt-headed. Before I become confined to a wheelchair or whatever my end-of-life situation turns out to be, I’ll work on listening to caregivers and learning to accept their help graciously.
On an even more positive note, I reaffirmed that I do love to race. I learned that I have ambitions of going faster and longer, even if it’s only by two seconds and two centimeters. I found out that it’s possible to develop a little bit of self-confidence despite a lifetime of self-doubt.
If I had known in advance what it would be like, would I still have gone to Budapest? In a heartbeat! Will I go again? That depends on whether I qualify and whether I can save up enough money because I really don’t want to do another fundraiser. I’ve asked far too much from friends and family already! However, I certainly hope this isn’t my last Worlds. If it is, then I’m really glad I participated. The whole shebang is that all of the she-banging (the injuries, the difficulties – not what you’re thinking!) was worth it. Triathlon has not seen the last of me. Not by a long shot!
A final note to those who like to plan well in advance – Worlds is in Beijing next year and New Zealand in 2012. ("Tomorrow, tomorrow.") Start planning and saving your pennies, folks, because most of the older Americans I talked to said they'll skip Beijing because they’re afraid of the air pollution. My take is that if Olympic athletes and Amazing Racers could do it, age groupers probably can too, only more slowly. Besides, my granddaughter spent a semester there and kept up her outdoor running without permanent damage.
Congratulations! We've finally reached the end of this report. If you’ve stayed with me, thank you (“sheh-sheh” in Chinese). See you at the races. And one more time, THANK YOU, CAROLYN!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Three and Two-Thirds Races, One Report
It’s hard to believe I haven’t written a race report in three months because normally I’m exceedingly verbose in writing if not in speaking. I’ve been busy, busy, busy with work, training, and fundraising, but three triathlons and an aquathlon need to be accounted for, at least in my own mind.
The three triathlons were Lake Pflugerville on June 20, Couples on July 11, and Jack’s Generic on August 1. They were numbers 17, 18, and 19 in my three-year racing career. Splash & Dash on July 20 was my third aquathlon this summer and my sixth over all. (I love it that Worlds will make my twentieth triathlon and my seventh aquathlon).
Each of the three and two-thirds races was so different that it’s hard to compare and contrast them, so I’ll first list my slow but steady statistics:
Pflugerville
06/20/2010
Lake Pflugerville 70-74
Second Place in the 70-74 age group
Swim 3:50/100M for 500M, total of 19:09
T1 3:08
Bike 13.9 mph for 14 mi., total of 1:02:02
T2 4:41
Run 15:08/mi. for 3.1 mi., total of 45:24
Overall total 2:14:25
Couples
07/11/2010
Decker Lake
Female Friends -We didn’t medal
Swim 4:06/100M for 800M, total of 32:46
T1 3:46
Bike 11.5 mph for 11.2 mi., total of 58:30
T2 4:48
Bike 17:07/mi for 3.1 mi, total of 53:05
Overall total 2:32:56
Jack’s Generic
08/01/2010
Tx Ski Ranch
Third Place in 65-99 age group
Swim 3:37/100M for 500 M, total of 18:05
T1 3:45
Bike 12.3 mph for 13.8 mi., total of 1:07:17
T2 3:42
Run 18:03/mi for 3.1 mi., total of 54:10
Overall total 2:27:01
Splash & Dash
07/20/2010
Quarry Lake
Last and oldest finisher
Swim 750 M Swim 31:44 (incl. T1)
Run 1.86 mi. 31:03
Overall total 1:02:47
As for “color commentary,” I enjoyed Pflugerville and Splash & Dash the most because the courses are very familiar and the sights are worth taking in. The ducks at Lake Pflugerville quack me up, and the buoys in Quarry Lake are abundant and easy for me to see. I knew ahead of time that Couples would be tough because of Little Mr. Tard, and sure enough he got me, despite my new granny cassette, and I had an insect encounter with my helmet, but fortunately not the stinging kind. My race partner, Vanessa, was a lot of fun to team up with -- Go, 727! I also knew ahead of time that Jack’s would be tough because of the late start time and the heat, but I had no idea that riding lickety-split on chip seal would rattle and hurt so much where the sun don't shine. I also lost my new bar-end mirror and had to go get a replacement. Rats! But even in these less enjoyable races, I did free style and jogging the whole way, despite bone-on-bone arthritis that allegedly qualifies me for a knee replacement. No way! I'd rather hobble than stop racing.
To go all philosophical on you, the best thing I can say about racing at my age (72.5) is that I love it. I’m out there doing it and having fun. I’m not using a cane, walker, wheelchair, or scooter chair. I don’t have as many aches and pains as my sedentary clients and acquaintances do, and I take only one prescription medication (for epilepsy – I had a complex partial seizure a year and a half ago). I feel good most of the time. I don’t like training and racing in the heat, but I do it anyhow unless I just can’t. Then I rest. I love the friends I’ve made. I love being outdoors. I love having important stuff to do and important stuff to learn. It’s all good!
The worst thing I can say about racing at my age is that I’m very, very slow and ungainly. There’s no way I’ll get much faster or more graceful. I continue to make slight tweaks in technique, race nutrition, preparation, knowledge, strategy, and so on, but the most I can hope for is to keep on racing until I can do only relays and, later on, only More Cowbell Corps. (So nice to have a career path all mapped out!) I no longer feel ashamed when I’m the last finisher. I no longer beat myself up when I fail to meet my goals for a particular race. I fully embrace whatever happens in the heat of battle, so to speak. It’s all good because it’s life. It’s MY life. So don't cry for me, Argentina, because I don't cry for myself, at least not often.
Somewhere between the best and the worst, I must say that triathlon has been berry, berry good to me. The sport got my granddaughter and me on "The Amazing Race," and now it’s getting me to Worlds. (Shannon will just have to wait her turn for Worlds.) To say that I’m deeply grateful to triathlon and Tri Zones is an understatement, but I’ll say it anyhow – THANK YOU, TRIATHLON! THANK YOU, TRI ZONES! THANK YOU, FRIENDS! Long may you wave. And for some time to come, may I wave as well.
So, my next race report will cover the World Championships in Budapest -- the aquathlon on September 8 and the sprint triathlon on the 11th. I'm sooooo excited about racing in Hungary. Please wish me well!
The three triathlons were Lake Pflugerville on June 20, Couples on July 11, and Jack’s Generic on August 1. They were numbers 17, 18, and 19 in my three-year racing career. Splash & Dash on July 20 was my third aquathlon this summer and my sixth over all. (I love it that Worlds will make my twentieth triathlon and my seventh aquathlon).
Each of the three and two-thirds races was so different that it’s hard to compare and contrast them, so I’ll first list my slow but steady statistics:
Pflugerville
06/20/2010
Lake Pflugerville 70-74
Second Place in the 70-74 age group
Swim 3:50/100M for 500M, total of 19:09
T1 3:08
Bike 13.9 mph for 14 mi., total of 1:02:02
T2 4:41
Run 15:08/mi. for 3.1 mi., total of 45:24
Overall total 2:14:25
Couples
07/11/2010
Decker Lake
Female Friends -We didn’t medal
Swim 4:06/100M for 800M, total of 32:46
T1 3:46
Bike 11.5 mph for 11.2 mi., total of 58:30
T2 4:48
Bike 17:07/mi for 3.1 mi, total of 53:05
Overall total 2:32:56
Jack’s Generic
08/01/2010
Tx Ski Ranch
Third Place in 65-99 age group
Swim 3:37/100M for 500 M, total of 18:05
T1 3:45
Bike 12.3 mph for 13.8 mi., total of 1:07:17
T2 3:42
Run 18:03/mi for 3.1 mi., total of 54:10
Overall total 2:27:01
Splash & Dash
07/20/2010
Quarry Lake
Last and oldest finisher
Swim 750 M Swim 31:44 (incl. T1)
Run 1.86 mi. 31:03
Overall total 1:02:47
As for “color commentary,” I enjoyed Pflugerville and Splash & Dash the most because the courses are very familiar and the sights are worth taking in. The ducks at Lake Pflugerville quack me up, and the buoys in Quarry Lake are abundant and easy for me to see. I knew ahead of time that Couples would be tough because of Little Mr. Tard, and sure enough he got me, despite my new granny cassette, and I had an insect encounter with my helmet, but fortunately not the stinging kind. My race partner, Vanessa, was a lot of fun to team up with -- Go, 727! I also knew ahead of time that Jack’s would be tough because of the late start time and the heat, but I had no idea that riding lickety-split on chip seal would rattle and hurt so much where the sun don't shine. I also lost my new bar-end mirror and had to go get a replacement. Rats! But even in these less enjoyable races, I did free style and jogging the whole way, despite bone-on-bone arthritis that allegedly qualifies me for a knee replacement. No way! I'd rather hobble than stop racing.
To go all philosophical on you, the best thing I can say about racing at my age (72.5) is that I love it. I’m out there doing it and having fun. I’m not using a cane, walker, wheelchair, or scooter chair. I don’t have as many aches and pains as my sedentary clients and acquaintances do, and I take only one prescription medication (for epilepsy – I had a complex partial seizure a year and a half ago). I feel good most of the time. I don’t like training and racing in the heat, but I do it anyhow unless I just can’t. Then I rest. I love the friends I’ve made. I love being outdoors. I love having important stuff to do and important stuff to learn. It’s all good!
The worst thing I can say about racing at my age is that I’m very, very slow and ungainly. There’s no way I’ll get much faster or more graceful. I continue to make slight tweaks in technique, race nutrition, preparation, knowledge, strategy, and so on, but the most I can hope for is to keep on racing until I can do only relays and, later on, only More Cowbell Corps. (So nice to have a career path all mapped out!) I no longer feel ashamed when I’m the last finisher. I no longer beat myself up when I fail to meet my goals for a particular race. I fully embrace whatever happens in the heat of battle, so to speak. It’s all good because it’s life. It’s MY life. So don't cry for me, Argentina, because I don't cry for myself, at least not often.
Somewhere between the best and the worst, I must say that triathlon has been berry, berry good to me. The sport got my granddaughter and me on "The Amazing Race," and now it’s getting me to Worlds. (Shannon will just have to wait her turn for Worlds.) To say that I’m deeply grateful to triathlon and Tri Zones is an understatement, but I’ll say it anyhow – THANK YOU, TRIATHLON! THANK YOU, TRI ZONES! THANK YOU, FRIENDS! Long may you wave. And for some time to come, may I wave as well.
So, my next race report will cover the World Championships in Budapest -- the aquathlon on September 8 and the sprint triathlon on the 11th. I'm sooooo excited about racing in Hungary. Please wish me well!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Five Decker Triathlons
Over the past two years and six weeks, I’ve finished five triathlons at Walter E. Long Park, following substantially the same course – swimming in Decker Lake, biking on the hilly roads around the lake, and running on the rocky, grassy, muddy trail inside the park. Three of the triathlons were Couples and two were Danskins. The first three at this venue offered a 12-mile bike course, while the two most recent cut the bike course to 11.2 miles. It’s interesting to compare my most recent race with the other four.
At long last, a week has passed and I’m free to look at my splits from Couples last week. Though it was hard not to peek, I’m glad I could keep my promise to myself to focus on fun and to stop obsessing over every tenth of a second. Overall, I’m happy with my race. The 11 people who took longer to finish probably had difficulties with their equipment. Enough time has passed that there’s no point in beating myself up for making mistakes. Of course, I shouldn’t beat myself up even in the heat of battle. I’ll practice taking a positive attitude to everything I do because there’s very little I can control on race day (or at any other time, for that matter). Things just happen, like my dead battery this morning, a frantic call to my son for a jump, and a hasty trip to an auto parts store for a new battery. Glad it wasn’t worse.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, so to speak, the story continues. Although I prefer a clockwise swim and this one was counter-clockwise, I thought I’d had a good swim, and I did because I was able to draft a lot. This was my best pace ever at Decker Lake – 4:06/100 M for 800 meters with a total of 32:46. For me, that’s smoking fast! Thank you, fast swimmers in later wave starts. You pulled me along. I’m also happy that I did freestyle the whole way and didn’t have to stop to catch my breath.
My T1 was right in the middle of these five races at 3:46. I need to practice my transitions a lot more than I do. I need to develop a sure-fire way to lay out my gear instead of proceeding in somewhat a haphazard fashion. I sense another checklist in the offing.
I thought I’d had a better bike than it turned out to be, so it’s good that I was focusing only on the fun of the race. I love those big downhills! Not even the stinging insect in my bike glasses bothered me. I just whipped them off and stuck them down the front of my jersey. My average speed was 11.5 mph for the 11.2 miles with a total of 58:30. Last year at Couples, I was quite a bit slower on the bike. I’m happy to have improved over last year, though my speed was faster in the first three Decker races.
If I can indulge in one gripe, I think my bike would have been a few seconds faster if a guy hadn’t cut me off at the hard right turn just before the first short, steep hill that we call Little Mr. Tard. I was going moderately fast and wide, gearing down, and preparing to muscle my way up that unforgiving hill. Instead, I had to brake like crazy and lost momentum. When I dropped to 3 mph, I got off the bike and walked it the rest of the way to the top. Oh, well. He was racing while I was out for the fun. I used the walk to take in water, electrolytes, and shot blocks. I also encouraged others who were walking their bikes up. That’s a tough hill. None of the others bothered me at all.
This T2 was my slowest ever for this venue at 4:48, so ditto on practicing a lot more. I might as well have phoned in for pizza and had lunch. Since getting into my running socks and shoes takes so long, I’ll practice running without socks and will look for a long-handled shoe horn in order to avoid plopping down on the ground to put on my shoes. I’ll also look for some better shoe laces.
I knew during the race that my run/walk was a struggle, so I wasn’t surprised to see that it was my second slowest on that course – 17:07 per mile for 3.1 miles with a total of 53:05. Not only was the weather hot and humid at 10:00 a.m., but also for the first time in my racing life, I experienced gastrointestinal distress and really needed a porta-pottie. I kept looking for a big bush to hide behind but there were too many runners and volunteers around for me to find enough privacy to pacify my nudity timidity. I know, I know. I should get over that hang-up. Maybe next year. Consider yourself warned.
Looking at all five races at Decker Lake, I’m happy with my most recent results. This was my second fastest finish. At 2:32:56, I was only 1:04 slower than I was at Danskin a year ago. I’m not sure how to factor in the slightly shorter race course this year, but I’m just not going to worry about it. I have the evidence I need to convince myself that, although I’m not getting any faster, I’m not slowing down much either. There’s something to be said for finding your happy race pace and just being consistent with it. Racing is fun and I want to keep it that way so I can do it as long as possible.
I’m now keeping my training and motivation logs in a different location because I write them every day in pencil in a notebook. There’s something satisfying about writing my accomplishments in cursive. It’s highly satisfying to have made a series of small decisions leading up to what amounts to a serious commitment to doing the necessary training for Worlds. Some time ago, I was freaking out about Worlds. Now, I’m much calmer and much more focused on what I need do. That's progress!
At long last, a week has passed and I’m free to look at my splits from Couples last week. Though it was hard not to peek, I’m glad I could keep my promise to myself to focus on fun and to stop obsessing over every tenth of a second. Overall, I’m happy with my race. The 11 people who took longer to finish probably had difficulties with their equipment. Enough time has passed that there’s no point in beating myself up for making mistakes. Of course, I shouldn’t beat myself up even in the heat of battle. I’ll practice taking a positive attitude to everything I do because there’s very little I can control on race day (or at any other time, for that matter). Things just happen, like my dead battery this morning, a frantic call to my son for a jump, and a hasty trip to an auto parts store for a new battery. Glad it wasn’t worse.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, so to speak, the story continues. Although I prefer a clockwise swim and this one was counter-clockwise, I thought I’d had a good swim, and I did because I was able to draft a lot. This was my best pace ever at Decker Lake – 4:06/100 M for 800 meters with a total of 32:46. For me, that’s smoking fast! Thank you, fast swimmers in later wave starts. You pulled me along. I’m also happy that I did freestyle the whole way and didn’t have to stop to catch my breath.
My T1 was right in the middle of these five races at 3:46. I need to practice my transitions a lot more than I do. I need to develop a sure-fire way to lay out my gear instead of proceeding in somewhat a haphazard fashion. I sense another checklist in the offing.
I thought I’d had a better bike than it turned out to be, so it’s good that I was focusing only on the fun of the race. I love those big downhills! Not even the stinging insect in my bike glasses bothered me. I just whipped them off and stuck them down the front of my jersey. My average speed was 11.5 mph for the 11.2 miles with a total of 58:30. Last year at Couples, I was quite a bit slower on the bike. I’m happy to have improved over last year, though my speed was faster in the first three Decker races.
If I can indulge in one gripe, I think my bike would have been a few seconds faster if a guy hadn’t cut me off at the hard right turn just before the first short, steep hill that we call Little Mr. Tard. I was going moderately fast and wide, gearing down, and preparing to muscle my way up that unforgiving hill. Instead, I had to brake like crazy and lost momentum. When I dropped to 3 mph, I got off the bike and walked it the rest of the way to the top. Oh, well. He was racing while I was out for the fun. I used the walk to take in water, electrolytes, and shot blocks. I also encouraged others who were walking their bikes up. That’s a tough hill. None of the others bothered me at all.
This T2 was my slowest ever for this venue at 4:48, so ditto on practicing a lot more. I might as well have phoned in for pizza and had lunch. Since getting into my running socks and shoes takes so long, I’ll practice running without socks and will look for a long-handled shoe horn in order to avoid plopping down on the ground to put on my shoes. I’ll also look for some better shoe laces.
I knew during the race that my run/walk was a struggle, so I wasn’t surprised to see that it was my second slowest on that course – 17:07 per mile for 3.1 miles with a total of 53:05. Not only was the weather hot and humid at 10:00 a.m., but also for the first time in my racing life, I experienced gastrointestinal distress and really needed a porta-pottie. I kept looking for a big bush to hide behind but there were too many runners and volunteers around for me to find enough privacy to pacify my nudity timidity. I know, I know. I should get over that hang-up. Maybe next year. Consider yourself warned.
Looking at all five races at Decker Lake, I’m happy with my most recent results. This was my second fastest finish. At 2:32:56, I was only 1:04 slower than I was at Danskin a year ago. I’m not sure how to factor in the slightly shorter race course this year, but I’m just not going to worry about it. I have the evidence I need to convince myself that, although I’m not getting any faster, I’m not slowing down much either. There’s something to be said for finding your happy race pace and just being consistent with it. Racing is fun and I want to keep it that way so I can do it as long as possible.
I’m now keeping my training and motivation logs in a different location because I write them every day in pencil in a notebook. There’s something satisfying about writing my accomplishments in cursive. It’s highly satisfying to have made a series of small decisions leading up to what amounts to a serious commitment to doing the necessary training for Worlds. Some time ago, I was freaking out about Worlds. Now, I’m much calmer and much more focused on what I need do. That's progress!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Becoming Consistent with the Training
Although the triathlon in Budapest is just a sprint distance, which I’ve done 18 times in the past three years, I’m increasing my training to ensure that I have an enjoyable race. Last night at team practice, we did “bricks.” I biked a total of 8 miles and ran about 1.25 miles. If the hills hadn’t been so hard, I’d have enjoyed practice a lot more. At the end of a long work day, it’s hard to get out there, especially in the heat.
This morning, 4:45 came far too early, but I decided to roll out of bed and go to swim practice. I think I completed about 1000 yards of drills alternating with swims. Afterwards, I did an easy run of about 1.5 miles. This evening, I actually got to the gym for a few lat pulls, leg presses, and core work. It was fun to get back to strength training.
Tomorrow, it might be hard to get in the training on my schedule because it’s a long work day for me. But I’m supposed to run only 1.5 miles and do a bit of stretching, balance, and core work. I will squeeze it in somehow.
Training log: Bike – 8 miles. Run/walk – 1.25 miles. (Also taught senior exercise class and did a little core work and light weights at the gym.)
Motivation log: I learned that making a commitment to training is a matter of deciding to take the little steps that make it hard not to train. It’s that simple.
This morning, 4:45 came far too early, but I decided to roll out of bed and go to swim practice. I think I completed about 1000 yards of drills alternating with swims. Afterwards, I did an easy run of about 1.5 miles. This evening, I actually got to the gym for a few lat pulls, leg presses, and core work. It was fun to get back to strength training.
Tomorrow, it might be hard to get in the training on my schedule because it’s a long work day for me. But I’m supposed to run only 1.5 miles and do a bit of stretching, balance, and core work. I will squeeze it in somehow.
Training log: Bike – 8 miles. Run/walk – 1.25 miles. (Also taught senior exercise class and did a little core work and light weights at the gym.)
Motivation log: I learned that making a commitment to training is a matter of deciding to take the little steps that make it hard not to train. It’s that simple.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Two Months to Worlds Triathlon
Okay, so I’m doing the aquathlon on September 8 and the sprint triathlon on the 11th. Of the two, the triathlon represents my goal race, while the other is important but mostly a practice race, like the Couples Triathlon this morning. No offense to aquathlon specialists, but adding the bike into the mix raises the stakes considerably. The transitions alone are hard enough to manage, and then there’s the 20K bike ride to prepare for. Good thing I like cycling.
The triathlon in Budapest will be more difficult than the aquathlon because waves start between 6:55 and 8:20 a.m., and I’ll use my wetsuit. However, the aquathlon waves will start between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m., so the weather will probably be warm enough to swim without a wetsuit. If it isn’t, I’m still not sure I want to squirm into it while I’m hot and sweaty from running and then yank it off to finish the run. Makes no sense to me.
This morning, my race at the Couples triathlon felt good through the swim and the bike. Not until the latter part of the run did I begin struggling with heat, humidity, and fatigue. My stomach felt a bit uncomfortable, and I also had an annoying series of images running through my head – the poop deck of an 18th-century man of war, a long handled cat poop scooper, a stinky porta-potty, and so on. By the time I finally realized that I should have made one more bathroom stop before the race, it was too late and there were no convenient bushes. Talk about sucking it up!
As an exercise in mental toughness, I pledged someone near and dear to me that for an entire week I wouldn’t look up my official results for this morning’s race, and so far I’ve stuck to the promise. I’m trying simply to focus on the fun and take the whole pressure of competition off my shoulders for these races leading up to Worlds. I got the impression that my swim and bike were reasonably fast compared with my previous races, but I suspect that my run/walk was pretty slow. Oh, well. It is what it is. I had fun, and that’s what counts these days.
Training log: Swim – 800 meters. Bike – 11.2 miles. Run/walk – 3.1 miles.
Motivation log: The emphasis on fun helped a lot.
The triathlon in Budapest will be more difficult than the aquathlon because waves start between 6:55 and 8:20 a.m., and I’ll use my wetsuit. However, the aquathlon waves will start between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m., so the weather will probably be warm enough to swim without a wetsuit. If it isn’t, I’m still not sure I want to squirm into it while I’m hot and sweaty from running and then yank it off to finish the run. Makes no sense to me.
This morning, my race at the Couples triathlon felt good through the swim and the bike. Not until the latter part of the run did I begin struggling with heat, humidity, and fatigue. My stomach felt a bit uncomfortable, and I also had an annoying series of images running through my head – the poop deck of an 18th-century man of war, a long handled cat poop scooper, a stinky porta-potty, and so on. By the time I finally realized that I should have made one more bathroom stop before the race, it was too late and there were no convenient bushes. Talk about sucking it up!
As an exercise in mental toughness, I pledged someone near and dear to me that for an entire week I wouldn’t look up my official results for this morning’s race, and so far I’ve stuck to the promise. I’m trying simply to focus on the fun and take the whole pressure of competition off my shoulders for these races leading up to Worlds. I got the impression that my swim and bike were reasonably fast compared with my previous races, but I suspect that my run/walk was pretty slow. Oh, well. It is what it is. I had fun, and that’s what counts these days.
Training log: Swim – 800 meters. Bike – 11.2 miles. Run/walk – 3.1 miles.
Motivation log: The emphasis on fun helped a lot.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Two Months till Worlds
Only two months remain until the start of the Dextro Energy Triathlon ITU World Championship Series Grand Finale in Budapest. Three groups of athletes will compete there – age group triathlon (sprint and Olympic distance), paratriathlon, and aquathlon athletes. On September 8, I’ll race the aquathlon (2.5K run, 1000 meter swim, 2.5K run) and on the 11th, I’ll race the sprint triathlon (750 meter swim, 20K bike, 5K run).
My training program is firmly on track, and I feel much better about the two races than I did last month. The fear that bothered me a while back was due to insufficient and incorrect training, so it feels very good to have made a commitment to myself to do things right. My previous half-hearted training was setting myself up for failure and building an excuse for poor performance at the same time. What a crock! I should be ashamed of myself.
But I’m not. I’m only a human being, not Wonder Woman. I make mistakes. I have fears. I sabotage myself. I get worried. I hide under the covers. I shed tears. I don’t train enough. I attach too much importance to my future performance and not enough to the daily training that will prepare me for two decent races. The whole point of going to Worlds is to have fun and enjoy the races, no matter how well or not so well I do.
Training log: Yesterday, I swam and ran. Today I did stretching, balance work, and strength training. Tomorrow will be bike and swim day.
Motivation log: Took stock of my situation and got back on track.
My training program is firmly on track, and I feel much better about the two races than I did last month. The fear that bothered me a while back was due to insufficient and incorrect training, so it feels very good to have made a commitment to myself to do things right. My previous half-hearted training was setting myself up for failure and building an excuse for poor performance at the same time. What a crock! I should be ashamed of myself.
But I’m not. I’m only a human being, not Wonder Woman. I make mistakes. I have fears. I sabotage myself. I get worried. I hide under the covers. I shed tears. I don’t train enough. I attach too much importance to my future performance and not enough to the daily training that will prepare me for two decent races. The whole point of going to Worlds is to have fun and enjoy the races, no matter how well or not so well I do.
Training log: Yesterday, I swam and ran. Today I did stretching, balance work, and strength training. Tomorrow will be bike and swim day.
Motivation log: Took stock of my situation and got back on track.
Buffalo Springs 70.3 More Cowbell Report
So. Yeah. No. I mean, here we are posting our report much later than all the racers who usually write race reports. What’s up with that? So, what we’re trying to say is that cowbelling is, like, really hard work. I mean, seriously!
First, you have to drive to West Effin Texas, home of the Large Lub-buttocks. Hey, don’t take offense. We’re from Ass-tin, after all. Furthermore, some of us will race in Booty-Pest in September, and some of us are heading out to Keester-ville for training this weekend. So be sure you get your head or some other part of your anatomy around this motif because it figures prominently a bit later in the book. And you thought Red’s reports were long. Hah!
Next, you have to deal with an exploding coffee pot at 4:00 in the morning – BEFORE you’ve had your coffee. So, yeah, I mean, coffee was flying everywhere. Probably a good thing we couldn’t actually drink it because it tasted terrible when you tried to lick it up off the shelf. Somebody famous said “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” but don’t do the lick thing. I’m just saying. Oh, yeah. Don’t do the spill thing either. And for heaven’s sake don’t do the – Well, I’d better shut up now. What’s said in Lubbock stays in Lubbock, even if half the town can hear you. But that comes later.
Then, as a cowbeller you have to swim, bike, and run part of the course so you’ll know where to stand for proper cowbelling. I mean, who knew West Texas has a spring-fed, wetsuit-legal lake? Where did those mountains, I mean, MouNtaiNs, actually, MOUNTAINS come from? And the run course. What can you say? Okay, it smells like cow poop. Either the smell or the wind can knock you off your feet. Watch out when there’s both! Where was all this information on the BS (teehee) website? It’s nice that Chris Lieto and Andrea Fisher competed for $25,000, but I’m just saying that everyone should get something for being out there. Hoo, boy!
So on Saturday after 56 or 28 miles on the bike, depending on whether your name is Cindy or Kristen or Jody, we cooled off with some laps in the lake and then took a trail hike that overlooked the whole venue. It was some kind of gorgeous! A few of us had been flirting with Lubbock because the
mornings are so cool and pleasant, but that view! Man, that view brought on a serious love affair. The whole move-to-Lubbock thing was going on. If it hadn’t been for the exploding coffee pot, the difficulty in finding Tecate, and the event that caused the “Oh-Crap-Oh-Sh*t-Oh-F**k” refrain, it might have been “Bye-Bye-Cap-City.”
Anyway, race morning started at something like pre-dawn-thirty in the A of M, or it felt that early, and we set out for the race site with a plan – Cindy and Kristen would bike in to save $6.00 apiece, while Jody would drive in for only $2.00, thanks to the elderly discount. It turns out that a very nice lady with only one missing tooth let the whole car in for $6.00. She did this for two reasons – Kristen’s bike was on her car-top carrier, which made the lovely lady think we had a racer on board, and Jody hid in the back seat, thereby becoming a criminal, a tax evader, and a thoroughly naughty old gal. Watch out, folks!
Then came the big decisions – where to park, what to take to the cowbell location, and where to find the porta-potties. We aced only the last of these and even then we had to use the men’s side because the women’s side resembled a toilet at the end of a crowded, three-day bus ride in a third world country. Overflowing odoriferousness!
Parking was in an unmowed field where sticker weeds, huge ants, I mean, HUGE, and snakes roamed freely. In fact, a policeman caught a bull snake about 4.5 feet long and offered to let us touch it. Cindy consented to having her picture taken with it because she had seen an even larger one on her long bike ride the day before, hence the “Oh-Crap-Oh-Sh*t-Oh-F**k” theme mentioned earlier.
We mostly struck out on the what-to-take idea. The tent, which the racers were counting on, had to stay in the car because how can you drag something like that through sticker weeds, ants, and snakes, I mean, SNAKES!!!! Furthermore, how can you ride the tent down that big hill at the beginning of the bike course? Sure, it’s got wheels, but we’d have wound up knocking over the entire transition area and the sweet little EMS people at the finish line. So we took turns carrying a heavy ice chest filled with water, lemonade, and Tecate, the most important item.
Finally in position at Bike Out and ready to cowbell, we did some warm-up wrist circles, a few Woo-Hoo’s, and some sunscreen spraying. For the longest time, we didn’t see any Tri Zoners, but we certainly saw some interesting racers. One guy headed out on the bike course without his helmet. We could see his mouth move to the “Oh-Sh*t” song before he turned back for it. We saw a guy wreck his fancy race wheel just a few yards into the race. He stoically returned to the start to work on his bike. Much pumping took place. We heard a loud POP just as another guy was screaming down the hill at the end of the bike course, but he didn’t stop. He must have figured he could make it to transition on the rim. Good-bye, sweet wheel.
Then we moved to a position where we could watch Run Out and Run In. By this time, it was hot. I mean, HOT, as in no-cloud-cover-high-humidity-high-temperature HOT. There’s where we saw all of our real Tri Zoners and our adopted ones, Ingrid and Kim from Houston. So should we adopt the A-man or not? I’m thinking maybe not so much, in light of what almost happened at dinner that night.
So Carolyn finished the aqua bike and joined us for a while, and we met up with Kenneth, Bob, and Paul, who just LOVES a high-pitched little cowbell we brought along. It actually made nice harmony with one of the large Tri Zones cowbells. So, I mean, we’re working both sides of the road as we high-five our racers to the finish line. We may have been sick of the cowbell sound by then, but we rang and rang some more to make sure everyone else would get sick of it too – oh, wait. No. Yeah. We rang to celebrate our finishers. There. That’s better.
All of our Tri Zoners looked strong at the finish, though some looked hotter than others. Some had a few gastro-intestinal issues. Some needed to lie down. Some needed to talk their heads off. Some got all quiet and meditative. Some needed to go jump in the lake, I mean, sit in the lake to cool off. To each his or her own! We rang for them all because all are half Ironmen. I mean, you need to kiss their feet, and somebody did that very thing at dinner. Their feet, once cleaned up a bit, are totally kissable. When is the last time YOU covered 70.3 miles under your own power on one of the toughest half-iron courses there is? I mean, really. Kiss! Don’t kiss up. Just kiss.
So on to the celebratory dinner. We went to Abuelo’s, but I swear Jody was the oldest person there. Our people at one table behaved themselves decorously with most excellent race stories. The cowbellers and other support sherpas were totally lapping it up. Amazing stuff! All of a sudden, our people at the other table shouted, I mean SCREAMED, with laughter. And they didn’t stop. It went on and on. Apparently, someone pressed the A-man’s On button and couldn’t find the Off button. Since the fling with Lubbock was over, much flirtation ensued and there was some talk of the A-man going home with the single ladies, but one of them declared in no uncertain terms, “He’s not getting in OUR car!” So, no, I’m not sure anyone will be adopting the A-man anytime soon, lovely boy though he is. Maybe we missed an opportunity, but it was totally missable with an “M.” Trust me on this.
So. Oh, yeah. Now it’s the next morning and time for the drive home. Three sets of gentle snores greeted first light, then dawn, and finally the day. A brief flirtation with the beautiful morning sky, followed by a long or short run depending on who tells the story, and we’re ready to butt-break it back to Austin. The cowbellers’ wrists are in decent shape, the cowbells are safely back in Austin, and the cowbellers are in training for the next big race. Woo-Hoo!!
First, you have to drive to West Effin Texas, home of the Large Lub-buttocks. Hey, don’t take offense. We’re from Ass-tin, after all. Furthermore, some of us will race in Booty-Pest in September, and some of us are heading out to Keester-ville for training this weekend. So be sure you get your head or some other part of your anatomy around this motif because it figures prominently a bit later in the book. And you thought Red’s reports were long. Hah!
Next, you have to deal with an exploding coffee pot at 4:00 in the morning – BEFORE you’ve had your coffee. So, yeah, I mean, coffee was flying everywhere. Probably a good thing we couldn’t actually drink it because it tasted terrible when you tried to lick it up off the shelf. Somebody famous said “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” but don’t do the lick thing. I’m just saying. Oh, yeah. Don’t do the spill thing either. And for heaven’s sake don’t do the – Well, I’d better shut up now. What’s said in Lubbock stays in Lubbock, even if half the town can hear you. But that comes later.
Then, as a cowbeller you have to swim, bike, and run part of the course so you’ll know where to stand for proper cowbelling. I mean, who knew West Texas has a spring-fed, wetsuit-legal lake? Where did those mountains, I mean, MouNtaiNs, actually, MOUNTAINS come from? And the run course. What can you say? Okay, it smells like cow poop. Either the smell or the wind can knock you off your feet. Watch out when there’s both! Where was all this information on the BS (teehee) website? It’s nice that Chris Lieto and Andrea Fisher competed for $25,000, but I’m just saying that everyone should get something for being out there. Hoo, boy!
So on Saturday after 56 or 28 miles on the bike, depending on whether your name is Cindy or Kristen or Jody, we cooled off with some laps in the lake and then took a trail hike that overlooked the whole venue. It was some kind of gorgeous! A few of us had been flirting with Lubbock because the
mornings are so cool and pleasant, but that view! Man, that view brought on a serious love affair. The whole move-to-Lubbock thing was going on. If it hadn’t been for the exploding coffee pot, the difficulty in finding Tecate, and the event that caused the “Oh-Crap-Oh-Sh*t-Oh-F**k” refrain, it might have been “Bye-Bye-Cap-City.”
Anyway, race morning started at something like pre-dawn-thirty in the A of M, or it felt that early, and we set out for the race site with a plan – Cindy and Kristen would bike in to save $6.00 apiece, while Jody would drive in for only $2.00, thanks to the elderly discount. It turns out that a very nice lady with only one missing tooth let the whole car in for $6.00. She did this for two reasons – Kristen’s bike was on her car-top carrier, which made the lovely lady think we had a racer on board, and Jody hid in the back seat, thereby becoming a criminal, a tax evader, and a thoroughly naughty old gal. Watch out, folks!
Then came the big decisions – where to park, what to take to the cowbell location, and where to find the porta-potties. We aced only the last of these and even then we had to use the men’s side because the women’s side resembled a toilet at the end of a crowded, three-day bus ride in a third world country. Overflowing odoriferousness!
Parking was in an unmowed field where sticker weeds, huge ants, I mean, HUGE, and snakes roamed freely. In fact, a policeman caught a bull snake about 4.5 feet long and offered to let us touch it. Cindy consented to having her picture taken with it because she had seen an even larger one on her long bike ride the day before, hence the “Oh-Crap-Oh-Sh*t-Oh-F**k” theme mentioned earlier.
We mostly struck out on the what-to-take idea. The tent, which the racers were counting on, had to stay in the car because how can you drag something like that through sticker weeds, ants, and snakes, I mean, SNAKES!!!! Furthermore, how can you ride the tent down that big hill at the beginning of the bike course? Sure, it’s got wheels, but we’d have wound up knocking over the entire transition area and the sweet little EMS people at the finish line. So we took turns carrying a heavy ice chest filled with water, lemonade, and Tecate, the most important item.
Finally in position at Bike Out and ready to cowbell, we did some warm-up wrist circles, a few Woo-Hoo’s, and some sunscreen spraying. For the longest time, we didn’t see any Tri Zoners, but we certainly saw some interesting racers. One guy headed out on the bike course without his helmet. We could see his mouth move to the “Oh-Sh*t” song before he turned back for it. We saw a guy wreck his fancy race wheel just a few yards into the race. He stoically returned to the start to work on his bike. Much pumping took place. We heard a loud POP just as another guy was screaming down the hill at the end of the bike course, but he didn’t stop. He must have figured he could make it to transition on the rim. Good-bye, sweet wheel.
Then we moved to a position where we could watch Run Out and Run In. By this time, it was hot. I mean, HOT, as in no-cloud-cover-high-humidity-high-temperature HOT. There’s where we saw all of our real Tri Zoners and our adopted ones, Ingrid and Kim from Houston. So should we adopt the A-man or not? I’m thinking maybe not so much, in light of what almost happened at dinner that night.
So Carolyn finished the aqua bike and joined us for a while, and we met up with Kenneth, Bob, and Paul, who just LOVES a high-pitched little cowbell we brought along. It actually made nice harmony with one of the large Tri Zones cowbells. So, I mean, we’re working both sides of the road as we high-five our racers to the finish line. We may have been sick of the cowbell sound by then, but we rang and rang some more to make sure everyone else would get sick of it too – oh, wait. No. Yeah. We rang to celebrate our finishers. There. That’s better.
All of our Tri Zoners looked strong at the finish, though some looked hotter than others. Some had a few gastro-intestinal issues. Some needed to lie down. Some needed to talk their heads off. Some got all quiet and meditative. Some needed to go jump in the lake, I mean, sit in the lake to cool off. To each his or her own! We rang for them all because all are half Ironmen. I mean, you need to kiss their feet, and somebody did that very thing at dinner. Their feet, once cleaned up a bit, are totally kissable. When is the last time YOU covered 70.3 miles under your own power on one of the toughest half-iron courses there is? I mean, really. Kiss! Don’t kiss up. Just kiss.
So on to the celebratory dinner. We went to Abuelo’s, but I swear Jody was the oldest person there. Our people at one table behaved themselves decorously with most excellent race stories. The cowbellers and other support sherpas were totally lapping it up. Amazing stuff! All of a sudden, our people at the other table shouted, I mean SCREAMED, with laughter. And they didn’t stop. It went on and on. Apparently, someone pressed the A-man’s On button and couldn’t find the Off button. Since the fling with Lubbock was over, much flirtation ensued and there was some talk of the A-man going home with the single ladies, but one of them declared in no uncertain terms, “He’s not getting in OUR car!” So, no, I’m not sure anyone will be adopting the A-man anytime soon, lovely boy though he is. Maybe we missed an opportunity, but it was totally missable with an “M.” Trust me on this.
So. Oh, yeah. Now it’s the next morning and time for the drive home. Three sets of gentle snores greeted first light, then dawn, and finally the day. A brief flirtation with the beautiful morning sky, followed by a long or short run depending on who tells the story, and we’re ready to butt-break it back to Austin. The cowbellers’ wrists are in decent shape, the cowbells are safely back in Austin, and the cowbellers are in training for the next big race. Woo-Hoo!!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
It's All About the Speed
Now that I’ve chalked up my seventeenth sprint triathlon in not quite three years, I have to ask myself what keeps me going. At the age of 72, I have enough aches, pains, health issues, worries, and societal stereotyping that I could easily drop out, just as I’ve dropped out of nearly everything else remotely physical that I’ve tried to do in my life. But, no, I’m not writing a downer. I’m riding an upper today.
What keeps me going is that I can still keep going. I do triathlons because I can, while so many people my age can’t or won’t. I race because I don’t have to be a real athlete to compete. I don’t have to be talented. I don’t need to be young, firm, and fleet of foot. All I have to do is show up at a race that allows amateurs, newcomers, age-groupers, or people of all fitness levels.
Besides, racing is fun. I love speed. Slow as I am, I still get the sensation of speed when I glide as fast as I can through the water, race downhill on the bike, and lean into the run. I can only imagine how much better it must feel to those who are much speedier than I am. They must have an absolute blast! Love that speed!
Training log: Tuesday – just a few miles on the bike. Wednesday – somewhere between 800 and 1000 meters in the pool.
Motivation log: Looking forward to watching and cheering at the Buffalo Springs 70.3 this weekend.
What keeps me going is that I can still keep going. I do triathlons because I can, while so many people my age can’t or won’t. I race because I don’t have to be a real athlete to compete. I don’t have to be talented. I don’t need to be young, firm, and fleet of foot. All I have to do is show up at a race that allows amateurs, newcomers, age-groupers, or people of all fitness levels.
Besides, racing is fun. I love speed. Slow as I am, I still get the sensation of speed when I glide as fast as I can through the water, race downhill on the bike, and lean into the run. I can only imagine how much better it must feel to those who are much speedier than I am. They must have an absolute blast! Love that speed!
Training log: Tuesday – just a few miles on the bike. Wednesday – somewhere between 800 and 1000 meters in the pool.
Motivation log: Looking forward to watching and cheering at the Buffalo Springs 70.3 this weekend.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Lake Pflugerville Triathlon, 2010
This is the third consecutive year I’ve participated in the Lake Pflugerville Triathlon, and it’ll be one of the last I give up when I’m too old to race. I enjoyed the swim, I loved the bike, and I gutted out the run. The numbers in the table don’t lie, but they certainly don’t tell the whole story.
Swim T1 Bike T2 Run Total
2008 24:42.8 3:22 59:30.2 1:23 44:20 2:13:19
2009 23:04 3:37 1:14:03 INC 47:03 2:27:48
2010 19:09 3:08 1:02:02 4:41 45:24 2:14:25
In 2008, three family members did the race with me and provided great motivation to do as well as I could. I had also kept up with steady training. Last year, I had all kinds of minor problems with my equipment, though my teammates cheered like crazy and pulled me along. This year, with nowhere enough training, I still lost only 1:06 off my PR for this race.
After a good swim, good T1, and pretty good bike, I felt the fatigue set in during T2 and on the treeless run. I had to walk/run the whole hot course. After I finished, I had to sit in the shade and drink a bottle of cool water before I could get up and do anything. When I got home, I had to take a nap, and I’m heading to bed early tonight.
And yet I’m pleased to have won second place in my age group (there were two of us). I’m thrilled that I wasn’t the last person out of the water, the last person off the bike, or the last person to finish the run. About a dozen people took longer than I did for the race, and they were all much younger.
I’ll probably need to rehash this race over the next couple of days before I get my head around what went well and what didn’t. It’s pretty important to figure things out so I can improve next time.
Training log: Swim – 500 meters. Bike – 14 miles. Run – 3.1 miles.
Motivation log: Good practice for toughness training.
Swim T1 Bike T2 Run Total
2008 24:42.8 3:22 59:30.2 1:23 44:20 2:13:19
2009 23:04 3:37 1:14:03 INC 47:03 2:27:48
2010 19:09 3:08 1:02:02 4:41 45:24 2:14:25
In 2008, three family members did the race with me and provided great motivation to do as well as I could. I had also kept up with steady training. Last year, I had all kinds of minor problems with my equipment, though my teammates cheered like crazy and pulled me along. This year, with nowhere enough training, I still lost only 1:06 off my PR for this race.
After a good swim, good T1, and pretty good bike, I felt the fatigue set in during T2 and on the treeless run. I had to walk/run the whole hot course. After I finished, I had to sit in the shade and drink a bottle of cool water before I could get up and do anything. When I got home, I had to take a nap, and I’m heading to bed early tonight.
And yet I’m pleased to have won second place in my age group (there were two of us). I’m thrilled that I wasn’t the last person out of the water, the last person off the bike, or the last person to finish the run. About a dozen people took longer than I did for the race, and they were all much younger.
I’ll probably need to rehash this race over the next couple of days before I get my head around what went well and what didn’t. It’s pretty important to figure things out so I can improve next time.
Training log: Swim – 500 meters. Bike – 14 miles. Run – 3.1 miles.
Motivation log: Good practice for toughness training.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Splash-Dash, Mish-Mash
Where did the time go this week? I did Splash & Dash on Tuesday night as planned, but the rest of the week got away from me. All I did was some miscellaneous walking, my senior exercise class Wednesday and Friday, and 500 meters of swimming last night. I need to do more or I won’t be ready for Budapest.
What went wrong? The usual stuff – too much work, too many interruptions, some family concerns, some fundraising projects, a couple of restless nights, and a couple of social events. Everyone has these situations. What I haven’t learned is to put my training schedule first in my life. Everything else seems to take precedence. Observation made. Now I’ll figure out a way to stick with the training more faithfully.
Training log: Discussed above and not worth listing.
Motivation log: I seem to have lost my motivation again.
What went wrong? The usual stuff – too much work, too many interruptions, some family concerns, some fundraising projects, a couple of restless nights, and a couple of social events. Everyone has these situations. What I haven’t learned is to put my training schedule first in my life. Everything else seems to take precedence. Observation made. Now I’ll figure out a way to stick with the training more faithfully.
Training log: Discussed above and not worth listing.
Motivation log: I seem to have lost my motivation again.
Monday, June 14, 2010
An Enjoyable Rest Day
For the first time in ages, I enjoyed my rest day. Usually, I’m too restless or worried that I’m falling behind in my training plan. Considering my recent hiatus due to a sinus infection, I’d expected to go half crazy today. I think I’m still basking in the glow of yesterday’s bike ride and anticipating the glow I expect to get from doing Splash & Dash tomorrow.
Splash & Dash counts as an aquathlon with USA Triathlon, the governing body of various multisports. The typical aquathlon contains running, swimming, and more running, but S&D is just swimming and running. The aquathlon I’ll race in Budapest will be 2.5K of running, 1K of swimming, and another 2.5K of running. Tomorrow, I’ll swim 750 meters and run 3K (1.86 miles), so it’s a short aquathlon.
In Budapest, I don’t have a clue as to whether we’ll wear wetsuits for the aquathlon or not. I think it would be very difficult to jam one’s sweaty, post-run self into a skin-tight wetsuit and then strip it off for the second part of the run. I certainly plan to use a wetsuit for the triathlon because the swim comes first in the cool of the morning. Oh, well. Maybe all will become clear later on.
Training log: No real training – only an hour of senior stretching, aerobics, and strength training.
Motivation log: Continuing to absorb “Talent Is Overrated.” Good book!
Splash & Dash counts as an aquathlon with USA Triathlon, the governing body of various multisports. The typical aquathlon contains running, swimming, and more running, but S&D is just swimming and running. The aquathlon I’ll race in Budapest will be 2.5K of running, 1K of swimming, and another 2.5K of running. Tomorrow, I’ll swim 750 meters and run 3K (1.86 miles), so it’s a short aquathlon.
In Budapest, I don’t have a clue as to whether we’ll wear wetsuits for the aquathlon or not. I think it would be very difficult to jam one’s sweaty, post-run self into a skin-tight wetsuit and then strip it off for the second part of the run. I certainly plan to use a wetsuit for the triathlon because the swim comes first in the cool of the morning. Oh, well. Maybe all will become clear later on.
Training log: No real training – only an hour of senior stretching, aerobics, and strength training.
Motivation log: Continuing to absorb “Talent Is Overrated.” Good book!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A Not-So-Baby Ride
The bike ride this morning was tougher than I expected. Since I haven’t ridden much in South Austin, I was surprised by the number and the steepness of the hills. I’m definitely old, slow, and out of shape, but there were two or three others who weren’t much ahead of me. The ride leaders had us take a shortcut so we could meet up with the faster riders on this no-drop ride. I don’t know how much we cut off the scheduled 20 miles. Since I added on four miles (two from my place and two back home), I’m sure I got in at least 20 miles.
My new saddle felt quite comfortable the whole time. Thank goodness for it! As with any improvement, I wonder why I put up with the discomfort of the old saddle for so long? Ignorance? Timidity? Frugality? Who knows? I’m just glad I got the new one. I’ll feel like tackling some much longer rides this fall and winter now that I won’t have to worry so much about pain.
For me, group rides are much more fun than riding alone, especially when the trip leaders help watch for traffic, warn about road hazards, assist with fixing flats, and check to make sure that we’re all right. I’d like to think, however, that one day I won’t need a trip leader to check on me because I’ll be in the middle of the pack and not at the end. Fingers crossed!
Training log: Cycling – about 20 miles.
Motivation log: Feeling good is a great motivator to keep on feeling good by means of training.
My new saddle felt quite comfortable the whole time. Thank goodness for it! As with any improvement, I wonder why I put up with the discomfort of the old saddle for so long? Ignorance? Timidity? Frugality? Who knows? I’m just glad I got the new one. I’ll feel like tackling some much longer rides this fall and winter now that I won’t have to worry so much about pain.
For me, group rides are much more fun than riding alone, especially when the trip leaders help watch for traffic, warn about road hazards, assist with fixing flats, and check to make sure that we’re all right. I’d like to think, however, that one day I won’t need a trip leader to check on me because I’ll be in the middle of the pack and not at the end. Fingers crossed!
Training log: Cycling – about 20 miles.
Motivation log: Feeling good is a great motivator to keep on feeling good by means of training.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Babiest of Baby Steps
It’s weird that walking is harder on my arthritic knee than Pose running is, but my respiratory system isn’t ready for me to run yet. So I walked for an hour in my new neighborhood to the east of my place. And a lovely neighborhood it is, too. There’s an interesting mixture of somewhat run-down homes, old elegance, recent gentrification, and current remodeling. I really like the neighborhood. The gardens and flowering trees were so lovely that I came home and spent almost an hour weeding my tiny little garden. One day soon, I’ll bike all over the place so I can get to know it well.
Speaking of biking, I’m joining a group doing a 20-mile ride tomorrow morning. This will be the first real test of my new bike saddle. It felt so comfortable in the shop that I’ll be very disappointed if it doesn’t hold up for 20 miles. Although it has no more padding than my old one, the design seems to fit me a lot better. Gotta get the old booty ready for Booty-Pest. I hope my future Hungarian friends don’t mind this nickname. I give them full permission to call my town Ass-tin as many times as they like.
Training log: Walking – one hour.
Motivation log: It’s much easier to be active when you feel good than when you don’t!
Speaking of biking, I’m joining a group doing a 20-mile ride tomorrow morning. This will be the first real test of my new bike saddle. It felt so comfortable in the shop that I’ll be very disappointed if it doesn’t hold up for 20 miles. Although it has no more padding than my old one, the design seems to fit me a lot better. Gotta get the old booty ready for Booty-Pest. I hope my future Hungarian friends don’t mind this nickname. I give them full permission to call my town Ass-tin as many times as they like.
Training log: Walking – one hour.
Motivation log: It’s much easier to be active when you feel good than when you don’t!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Mo' Better
Thank goodness! I was beginning to worry. I forgot that taking antibiotics always wears me out – it’s been over a year since I’ve had any. They finally worked! Yesterday and today, I’ve felt almost normal.
Although I haven’t done any swimming, biking, running, or strength training for a week, I had fun teaching senior aerobics today, whereas it was hard on Monday and Wednesday and impossible last Friday. I also kayaked in somewhat rough waters for about an hour in support of friends who wanted to do some open water swimming. I chose not to swim because I haven’t finished the course of antibiotics. It would be horrible if I suffered a relapse. Let’s get completely well first and then ease back into training.
Training log: Nothing today.
Motivation log: Feeling better motivated me to plan some weekend activities.
Although I haven’t done any swimming, biking, running, or strength training for a week, I had fun teaching senior aerobics today, whereas it was hard on Monday and Wednesday and impossible last Friday. I also kayaked in somewhat rough waters for about an hour in support of friends who wanted to do some open water swimming. I chose not to swim because I haven’t finished the course of antibiotics. It would be horrible if I suffered a relapse. Let’s get completely well first and then ease back into training.
Training log: Nothing today.
Motivation log: Feeling better motivated me to plan some weekend activities.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Gotta Get Going
What’s the matter with me? I’m feeling better physically with very little congestion and no more fever, but my head is back in bed. I seem to think I’m still sick. I’ve been up and dressed all day and even did the grocery shopping, but I couldn’t manage to take the walk I knew would help me feel better. What’s up with that? Do I want to feel bad? NO!
Okay, it’s probably just a temporary setback. Tomorrow, I’ll rig things so I have to get out and walk for at least 30 minutes. Once I take those first few steps, I know I’ll perk up and keep going. Doing something active the next day will be easier, and by the weekend, I may be able to ease back into some gentle training.
Training log: Nothing today.
Motivation log: Nothing today.
Okay, it’s probably just a temporary setback. Tomorrow, I’ll rig things so I have to get out and walk for at least 30 minutes. Once I take those first few steps, I know I’ll perk up and keep going. Doing something active the next day will be easier, and by the weekend, I may be able to ease back into some gentle training.
Training log: Nothing today.
Motivation log: Nothing today.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Recovery and Recommitment
The body heals. Its default is life – until it isn’t, and then we call it death. Recovering from anything always takes twice as long as I like it to, so I’ll need to train for greater patience this week. Though I still feel tired and took a nap this afternoon, my heart was out at Decker Lake this morning as hundreds of women became brand new triathletes the minute they crossed the finish line and received their finisher’s medal. Even more triathletes recommitted themselves to the healthy, triathlon lifestyle. A few probably raced their last race, and I’ll be among that number one of these bays – but not yet!
To promote health and healing, I hereby promise to recover fully before I resume training and to start with baby steps. I also recommit myself to swimming, bicycling, running, and strength training – but also to monitoring myself more carefully and taking better care of myself. I’m not ready to give up triathlon and won’t be for years, so I will do whatever it takes to stay in the game, as long as it's legal and ethical.
Training log: Rest day.
Motivation log: Took pride in registering yesterday for the Aquathlon World Championships in Budapest. With proper self management, I can do both the aquathlon and the sprint triathlon.
To promote health and healing, I hereby promise to recover fully before I resume training and to start with baby steps. I also recommit myself to swimming, bicycling, running, and strength training – but also to monitoring myself more carefully and taking better care of myself. I’m not ready to give up triathlon and won’t be for years, so I will do whatever it takes to stay in the game, as long as it's legal and ethical.
Training log: Rest day.
Motivation log: Took pride in registering yesterday for the Aquathlon World Championships in Budapest. With proper self management, I can do both the aquathlon and the sprint triathlon.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Regrets and Reconciliation
“If only I had known” – one of the most disconsolate phrases in the English language. Tracing this sinus infection back to its probable cause, I think the 1K in a chlorinated pool on March 27 and the .5K at Lake Pflugerville on March 28 kicked it off. Wish I had used several home remedies right away – neti pot with warm salt water, ear drops of vinegar and alcohol, warm dry clothes, Vicks Vaporub, no dairy products, steam treatment, extra water and electrolytes, extra rest, hot tea, and so on.
I need to get my head around adopting these remedies every time I swim. My main stumbling blocks have been denial (I’m too tough for all this babying!), denial (I’m not allergic to chlorine or lake water!), denial (I don’t have time for all these home remedies!), and denial (I can train as hard as I want whenever I want in any conditions I want!).
Okay, I hereby accept the fact that I need to exercise self care after I swim. Many people do. It’s okay to take special precautions. Many people do. It’s better to take a few little steps after every swim than miss a week or more of training and a race because of a sinus infection. Anyone would agree with that.
Instead of beating myself up for being so hard-headed and slow to learn, however, I’m going to congratulate myself for finally accepting responsibility for my part in this current illness. I could have done better by myself and hereafter I will. The home remedies may not prevent every infection, but they’ll help a lot. They’ll become part of my training regimen.
Although I’m feeling a little better today, I’m not racing the Danskin tomorrow. One hour of standing in line at packet pick-up wore me out. I got my shirt and race bib mostly to get out of the house for a while but also in case a miracle occurred and I felt like racing tomorrow. Not a chance!
Training log: Sick day.
Motivation log: Took care of myself by resting a lot and promising to add self care to my swimming routine.
I need to get my head around adopting these remedies every time I swim. My main stumbling blocks have been denial (I’m too tough for all this babying!), denial (I’m not allergic to chlorine or lake water!), denial (I don’t have time for all these home remedies!), and denial (I can train as hard as I want whenever I want in any conditions I want!).
Okay, I hereby accept the fact that I need to exercise self care after I swim. Many people do. It’s okay to take special precautions. Many people do. It’s better to take a few little steps after every swim than miss a week or more of training and a race because of a sinus infection. Anyone would agree with that.
Instead of beating myself up for being so hard-headed and slow to learn, however, I’m going to congratulate myself for finally accepting responsibility for my part in this current illness. I could have done better by myself and hereafter I will. The home remedies may not prevent every infection, but they’ll help a lot. They’ll become part of my training regimen.
Although I’m feeling a little better today, I’m not racing the Danskin tomorrow. One hour of standing in line at packet pick-up wore me out. I got my shirt and race bib mostly to get out of the house for a while but also in case a miracle occurred and I felt like racing tomorrow. Not a chance!
Training log: Sick day.
Motivation log: Took care of myself by resting a lot and promising to add self care to my swimming routine.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Christmas Throat
What’s bright red around the edges and has a green streak down the back? Normally, I love the red and green of the Christmas colors, but not when they are in my throat. The doctor said that a sinus infection was producing lots of green nasal drainage that stuck to my red throat. No wonder it hurt so much. I got a prescription for a strong antibiotic, so I should be feeling better in a day or two. Glad I didn’t continue trying to fight this thing by myself.
Training log: Sick day.
Motivation log: Took care of myself by going to the doctor.
Training log: Sick day.
Motivation log: Took care of myself by going to the doctor.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Beauty of Naps
Sometimes I have to adjust my training plans to match reality. I had hoped to bike or run today, but instead I napped without intending to. I’m not sure why I couldn’t sleep well last night, but I felt so wasted today that the first chance I had to sit down, about 4:00, I fell asleep right away and didn’t budge for over an hour. The letters I had planned to open and read were scattered on the floor beside my chair. Dried drool covered my chin. Not a pretty sight. But the nap got the job done.
It was so hard to wake up that I almost cancelled my evening appointments, but I’m glad I didn’t. I felt better after I got moving, and I always enjoy seeing my clients improve in strength, balance, aerobics, and general health. Besides, I sneak in a little mini-workout for myself while I’m demonstrating the exercises for them. It’s all good. Hope I sleep well tonight so I can train hard tomorrow. I wonder if I’ll make it all the way through my practice aquathlon?
Training log: Nothing but a few core exercises and senior exercise class.
Motivation log: I was strongly motivated to take care of myself by embracing the nap. I didn’t beat myself up for sleeping instead of training.
It was so hard to wake up that I almost cancelled my evening appointments, but I’m glad I didn’t. I felt better after I got moving, and I always enjoy seeing my clients improve in strength, balance, aerobics, and general health. Besides, I sneak in a little mini-workout for myself while I’m demonstrating the exercises for them. It’s all good. Hope I sleep well tonight so I can train hard tomorrow. I wonder if I’ll make it all the way through my practice aquathlon?
Training log: Nothing but a few core exercises and senior exercise class.
Motivation log: I was strongly motivated to take care of myself by embracing the nap. I didn’t beat myself up for sleeping instead of training.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Work Ethic
The book I’m reading, “Talent Is Overrated,” makes a lot of sense. It nets out two ideas that produce world-class performance in a number of areas. The ideas are being in the right environment and doing the hard work. For example, if you live in the snow belt and have access to good equipment and coaching and if you work long and hard to improve your performance, you are likely to become a very good skier. If you have enormous talent for skiing but don’t work at it, you won’t.
On the one hand, having no talent for something is one of the biggest excuses I’ve ever heard from people who don’t exercise – “I’m no good at it.” On the other hand, having no talent is one of the greatest reasons there is to work hard at something so you’ll learn to do it reasonably well and enjoy it more than ever.
So I trotted out my work ethic at team practice this evening. I seldom look forward to run workouts because my knee usually starts hurting at some point. Further, I still haven’t lost all the congestion nor regained my breath. But I kept on going – round and round that track like a hamster. When I felt my technique was slipping away, I walked a bit and then got right back to my slow steady little jog. Only once or twice did my knee complain. Maybe there’s something to this work ethic idea.
Training log: Run practice – 3 miles, about 2/3 slow jogging and 1/3 walking.
Motivation log: Accepting the fact that I’m not and will never be a talented athlete and embracing the concept of good, hard work as a way to keep on racing for as many years as I can.
On the one hand, having no talent for something is one of the biggest excuses I’ve ever heard from people who don’t exercise – “I’m no good at it.” On the other hand, having no talent is one of the greatest reasons there is to work hard at something so you’ll learn to do it reasonably well and enjoy it more than ever.
So I trotted out my work ethic at team practice this evening. I seldom look forward to run workouts because my knee usually starts hurting at some point. Further, I still haven’t lost all the congestion nor regained my breath. But I kept on going – round and round that track like a hamster. When I felt my technique was slipping away, I walked a bit and then got right back to my slow steady little jog. Only once or twice did my knee complain. Maybe there’s something to this work ethic idea.
Training log: Run practice – 3 miles, about 2/3 slow jogging and 1/3 walking.
Motivation log: Accepting the fact that I’m not and will never be a talented athlete and embracing the concept of good, hard work as a way to keep on racing for as many years as I can.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Crutches or Aids?
Before I started training for triathlons three years and three months ago, I probably would have sniffed disdainfully at people who use bike trainers, swim fins, pool buoys, treadmills, and the like. I’d have thought they were cheating or at least using crutches. They weren’t being “pure” about their sport. What a crock!
By now I’ve found out that, during training, any aid that keeps you moving toward your goal is not only legal but also highly to be desired. You just don’t race with any assistive devices (unless you’re in a special wave of paratriathletes or something like that).
I’ve also learned that many professional and elite amateur athletes do the majority of their training indoors using pools, bike trainers, and treadmills, especially in the winter or in the heat of the noon-day sun. They train just enough outdoors that the change in environment doesn’t throw them off their stride, so to speak.
Indoor training provides several benefits over outdoor training, including privacy when you’re having a less than stellar day. Who needs to see your grimaces, curses, and tears anyway? In your own house, it’s easy to hide the ugly truth, but even in a gym, not many people watch you. Of course, I’m not young and sexy enough to watch, so consider the source.
Another advantage of indoor training is using videos or music to get you over the humdrum routine and to stay motivated. Also, you’re never far from a bathroom or a source of water, so it doesn’t take as much planning to train indoors. It’s probably safer, too.
Although I much prefer to train outdoors, I’m already trying to psych myself up for next winter, typically a low point in my motivation and my training. I hope I never again take the winter off until I’m ready to stop racing. The come-back is just too danged hard!
Despite having to take a nap today, I think I’m just about over the congestion difficulties of the past few days. Just in time. I have running practice tomorrow night and a speaking engagement on Wednesday. Thursday calls for my practice aquathlon before the Danskin on Sunday. Should be a busy and interesting week.
Training log: 1.5 miles of running and 1.5 miles of walking.
Motivation log: Ran to Zilker Park, rang a cowbell for friends racing the Capital of Texas Triathlon, and walked home. It’s inspirational to see others fighting through obvious problems and not quitting.
By now I’ve found out that, during training, any aid that keeps you moving toward your goal is not only legal but also highly to be desired. You just don’t race with any assistive devices (unless you’re in a special wave of paratriathletes or something like that).
I’ve also learned that many professional and elite amateur athletes do the majority of their training indoors using pools, bike trainers, and treadmills, especially in the winter or in the heat of the noon-day sun. They train just enough outdoors that the change in environment doesn’t throw them off their stride, so to speak.
Indoor training provides several benefits over outdoor training, including privacy when you’re having a less than stellar day. Who needs to see your grimaces, curses, and tears anyway? In your own house, it’s easy to hide the ugly truth, but even in a gym, not many people watch you. Of course, I’m not young and sexy enough to watch, so consider the source.
Another advantage of indoor training is using videos or music to get you over the humdrum routine and to stay motivated. Also, you’re never far from a bathroom or a source of water, so it doesn’t take as much planning to train indoors. It’s probably safer, too.
Although I much prefer to train outdoors, I’m already trying to psych myself up for next winter, typically a low point in my motivation and my training. I hope I never again take the winter off until I’m ready to stop racing. The come-back is just too danged hard!
Despite having to take a nap today, I think I’m just about over the congestion difficulties of the past few days. Just in time. I have running practice tomorrow night and a speaking engagement on Wednesday. Thursday calls for my practice aquathlon before the Danskin on Sunday. Should be a busy and interesting week.
Training log: 1.5 miles of running and 1.5 miles of walking.
Motivation log: Ran to Zilker Park, rang a cowbell for friends racing the Capital of Texas Triathlon, and walked home. It’s inspirational to see others fighting through obvious problems and not quitting.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sweat Therapy for a Not-so-Sick Day
When I was growing up, my parents were firm believers in sweating to break up congestion. Of course, they meant lying in bed covered with quilts and drinking hot liquids. For me, sweat therapy means exercising in the heat. I tried to get my sweat on this morning by starting out on a bike ride around the Danskin course, but I was too weak, tired, and wheezy to get comfortably up the first tiny little hill. Bummer! I went back to the car, logging only about 1.5 miles.
This afternoon, though, I had to cut the grass, which was pretty high. After I got a good sweat going, I felt better. It’s great to be on the mend. Maybe I’ll dodge the summer cold mess this time. Tomorrow I need to run. Believe it or not, I want to run. So I'll run.
Training log: Rest day.
Motivation log: Read more of “Talent is Overrated.” Interesting book!
This afternoon, though, I had to cut the grass, which was pretty high. After I got a good sweat going, I felt better. It’s great to be on the mend. Maybe I’ll dodge the summer cold mess this time. Tomorrow I need to run. Believe it or not, I want to run. So I'll run.
Training log: Rest day.
Motivation log: Read more of “Talent is Overrated.” Interesting book!
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Bike Fit + New Saddle = Bliss
Yesterday I finally did something about the bike discomfort I’ve been experiencing for two years. I bought a new saddle. I also had an expert (Zane at Jack & Adams) adjust the bike to me, not the other way around. It’s amazing how much difference a few centimeters can make! My aerobars were too low and my old saddle was too far back. No wonder I wasn’t able to balance in the aero position and couldn’t ride more than 10 miles or so in comfort.
I had hoped to get out to the veloway this morning for a test ride, but I woke up with allergies and congestion so I took a rest day. Or rather, a rest day was forced upon me. I should have used my netti pot after swimming on Thursday and Friday, and I should have put in eardrops of vinegar and alcohol. Next time!
Training log: Friday – 500 meters of open water swimming at Lake Pflugerville. Saturday – rest day.
Motivation log: Friday – Finally did something about discomfort on the bike. Saturday – Started reading “Talent Is Overrated.”
I had hoped to get out to the veloway this morning for a test ride, but I woke up with allergies and congestion so I took a rest day. Or rather, a rest day was forced upon me. I should have used my netti pot after swimming on Thursday and Friday, and I should have put in eardrops of vinegar and alcohol. Next time!
Training log: Friday – 500 meters of open water swimming at Lake Pflugerville. Saturday – rest day.
Motivation log: Friday – Finally did something about discomfort on the bike. Saturday – Started reading “Talent Is Overrated.”
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Seriously?
OMG, I'm out of shape. I had planned to do a full aquathlon distance today but had to cut off the last part. Running 1.5 miles on the treadmill felt fine, but I began to tire after about 700 meters in the pool. It was tough to make it to 1000. Then I just couldn't hop back on the treadmill. Next time!
Training may be hard, but the more I do, the better I feel. One big pro of training for the Aquathlon and Sprint Triathlon Worlds is to keep me motivated. If I don't have a goal, I sit and eat chocolate. My bad! With a serious goal or two, I do a lot better.
A big con for the aquathlon in Budapest is my fatigue level. Although I'm still awake at almost 10:00 p.m., I'm nodding off. Can I spell in my sleep? Of course, by September, I could be in much better shape and will be, barring injuries. I'll table my aquathlon dreams until after Danskin. If I do the Thursday aquathlon distance and finish the Sunday Danskin next week, maybe I'll see about competing.
Training log: 1.5 miles of treadmill running. 1000 meters of pool swimming.
Motivation log: Laying out my clothes helped keep me motivated, and so did my new system for counting laps -- I gathered a rock for each lap I needed to do and placed one in a plastic cup each time I finished. The less arithmetic I have to do, the more brain cells I have for focusing on technique.
Training may be hard, but the more I do, the better I feel. One big pro of training for the Aquathlon and Sprint Triathlon Worlds is to keep me motivated. If I don't have a goal, I sit and eat chocolate. My bad! With a serious goal or two, I do a lot better.
A big con for the aquathlon in Budapest is my fatigue level. Although I'm still awake at almost 10:00 p.m., I'm nodding off. Can I spell in my sleep? Of course, by September, I could be in much better shape and will be, barring injuries. I'll table my aquathlon dreams until after Danskin. If I do the Thursday aquathlon distance and finish the Sunday Danskin next week, maybe I'll see about competing.
Training log: 1.5 miles of treadmill running. 1000 meters of pool swimming.
Motivation log: Laying out my clothes helped keep me motivated, and so did my new system for counting laps -- I gathered a rock for each lap I needed to do and placed one in a plastic cup each time I finished. The less arithmetic I have to do, the more brain cells I have for focusing on technique.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Mini-Bricks
Last night I was too wiped out to write. My first mini-bricks of the season took more out of me than I could have imagined. The purpose of the workout was to help you push through the feeling that your legs are as heavy as a load of bricks when you switch from cycling to running. We did a warm-up loop on the bike and then two or three bike-run loops. I did only two, and I didn’t achieve the negative splits the coaches wanted. Instead of going faster on the second loop, I went slower. But I think my form was a little better, thanks to the coaches’ corrections to my technique.
Obviously, my fitness level and my swimming, cycling, and running skills aren’t where they need to be for Budapest. What to do – give up, muddle through, or dig deep? Although I’ve quit several things in my lifetime, I’m not the “give-up” type. I’m tired of muddling through and not trying my hardest. Guess I’d better figure out how to dig deep and press on.
Getting serious about training will take quite a bit more time than I’ve devoted to it so far this season. I don’t know how people who have families, work full-time jobs, and train for an Ironman can squeeze everything in. I don’t have a family to take care of or even a pet, and my job isn’t quite full-time, so I really have no excuse. I get the same 24 hours a day as everyone else.
It’s time to cut down on some of my less useful activities – watching TV, reading the paper from cover to cover, and wasting time in general. I’d better start checking off the daily training activities the coaches advise us to do. So far this season, I’ve trained in a hit-or-miss fashion. If I got the work done, fine. If I didn’t, so what? No more of that attitude! Just get the work done!
Training log: Two loops of mini-bricks last night and 40 minutes on the bike trainer today. Teaching senior aerobics and strength training doesn’t really count.
Motivation log: I seem to be in “taking stock” mode today, trying to figure out my fitness plan in greater detail. The aquathlon decision will have to wait.
Obviously, my fitness level and my swimming, cycling, and running skills aren’t where they need to be for Budapest. What to do – give up, muddle through, or dig deep? Although I’ve quit several things in my lifetime, I’m not the “give-up” type. I’m tired of muddling through and not trying my hardest. Guess I’d better figure out how to dig deep and press on.
Getting serious about training will take quite a bit more time than I’ve devoted to it so far this season. I don’t know how people who have families, work full-time jobs, and train for an Ironman can squeeze everything in. I don’t have a family to take care of or even a pet, and my job isn’t quite full-time, so I really have no excuse. I get the same 24 hours a day as everyone else.
It’s time to cut down on some of my less useful activities – watching TV, reading the paper from cover to cover, and wasting time in general. I’d better start checking off the daily training activities the coaches advise us to do. So far this season, I’ve trained in a hit-or-miss fashion. If I got the work done, fine. If I didn’t, so what? No more of that attitude! Just get the work done!
Training log: Two loops of mini-bricks last night and 40 minutes on the bike trainer today. Teaching senior aerobics and strength training doesn’t really count.
Motivation log: I seem to be in “taking stock” mode today, trying to figure out my fitness plan in greater detail. The aquathlon decision will have to wait.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Rest Days Lead to Thoughts of Aquathlons
Rest days are necessary, but today I really missed those endorphins, my current drug of choice. I’m glad I gave up alcohol and nicotine decades ago and glad I cut way back on caffeine and products with polysyllabic artificial ingredients. It feels good to go off sugar for fairly long periods of time. But I don’t see how I can ever give up endorphins. Maybe I won’t have to, since there are exercises for all medical conditions in case I develop something unfortunate.
Next rest day, though, I’m going to plan something more fun than watching an hour of TV finales. I don’t have to be completely sedentary on a rest day, just careful not to train hard. Maybe some walking or kayaking would be easy enough for a rest day but active enough to stir up some happy molecules. A little more planning would be a good thing.
If I’m not active enough, I get into trouble, and I might very well have done that today. On the Team USA site, I found a link to the Aquathlon World Championships and learned that this race takes place on September 8, also in Budapest. To obtain further information, I sent an email and found out that I might indeed qualify for this race because I’m the only American woman in the 70-74 age group who did at least three aquathlons last year. This type of multisport race combines swimming and running. At Worlds, the distances are a 2.5K run, a 1K swim, and a 2.5K run. Although I’ve never done that exact combination before, I’m considering whether to apply for a position on Team USA. I’ll post some pro and con ideas tomorrow.
Training log: Day of rest.
Motivation log: I’m trying to decide whether or not the Aquathlon World Championships would be good motivation and preparation for the Sprint Triathlon World Championships.
Next rest day, though, I’m going to plan something more fun than watching an hour of TV finales. I don’t have to be completely sedentary on a rest day, just careful not to train hard. Maybe some walking or kayaking would be easy enough for a rest day but active enough to stir up some happy molecules. A little more planning would be a good thing.
If I’m not active enough, I get into trouble, and I might very well have done that today. On the Team USA site, I found a link to the Aquathlon World Championships and learned that this race takes place on September 8, also in Budapest. To obtain further information, I sent an email and found out that I might indeed qualify for this race because I’m the only American woman in the 70-74 age group who did at least three aquathlons last year. This type of multisport race combines swimming and running. At Worlds, the distances are a 2.5K run, a 1K swim, and a 2.5K run. Although I’ve never done that exact combination before, I’m considering whether to apply for a position on Team USA. I’ll post some pro and con ideas tomorrow.
Training log: Day of rest.
Motivation log: I’m trying to decide whether or not the Aquathlon World Championships would be good motivation and preparation for the Sprint Triathlon World Championships.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
A Two-Stop Ride
The Danskin bike course may be only 12 miles long, but there are several hills that eat my lunch. Little Tard, with the stop sign, the sudden right turn, and the short steep climb, always defeats me early in the season. Big Tard, with the long, slow, steady climb late in the course, seldom bothers me, but it did today. For both, I had to get off and push my bike and myself up the hill. I wasn’t the only one walking up LT, but I was the only one I saw on BT.
These dismounts are additional evidence that I need to train all year, as if I didn’t already know. I think that one of the reasons come-backs are so hard is that you have to eat the ashes of your cremated former glory, using the "glory" loosely. And yet, come-backs are easier than starting from scratch. Not only do you have greater knowledge of your sport and yourself, but also your starting fitness level is a little bit better and returns a little bit faster. Let’s just hope I can get everything back and then some!
If I had started athletics as early in life as my 13-year-old grandson, I’d be either a fine athlete by now or else all washed up with injuries. He did his first ever triathlon today and finished in the top half of his age group. The kids swam 100 meters, biked 8K and ran 4K. He finished in 36:41, which sounds lightning fast to me. He’s the seventh family member to take up triathlons. I’m afraid I started the whole thing and roped my daughter and granddaughter into doing the Danskin with me. My son and his girlfriend did Couples last summer, and my brother in Seattle did two triathlons last summer and plans to complete three this year. I’m glad not everyone is crazy enough to do seven in a season, as I did in 2008.
Tomorrow is a rest day, and I can really use the break. I won’t even teach senior aerobics because a health fair will occupy the room we use. I’ll just staff a booth for part of the day and will try to interest seniors in becoming more active. That’s a very hard sell. I feel extremely lucky to have made the change from couch potato to active person.
Training log: About 12 miles of cycling on the Danskin course.
Motivation log: Today I used others to motivate myself for a bike ride. Several teammates posted that they would be out at Decker Lake by 7:30 a.m., so I said I’d be there too. I also gained motivation from my grandson, who did his first triathlon today. I’m very proud of him.
These dismounts are additional evidence that I need to train all year, as if I didn’t already know. I think that one of the reasons come-backs are so hard is that you have to eat the ashes of your cremated former glory, using the "glory" loosely. And yet, come-backs are easier than starting from scratch. Not only do you have greater knowledge of your sport and yourself, but also your starting fitness level is a little bit better and returns a little bit faster. Let’s just hope I can get everything back and then some!
If I had started athletics as early in life as my 13-year-old grandson, I’d be either a fine athlete by now or else all washed up with injuries. He did his first ever triathlon today and finished in the top half of his age group. The kids swam 100 meters, biked 8K and ran 4K. He finished in 36:41, which sounds lightning fast to me. He’s the seventh family member to take up triathlons. I’m afraid I started the whole thing and roped my daughter and granddaughter into doing the Danskin with me. My son and his girlfriend did Couples last summer, and my brother in Seattle did two triathlons last summer and plans to complete three this year. I’m glad not everyone is crazy enough to do seven in a season, as I did in 2008.
Tomorrow is a rest day, and I can really use the break. I won’t even teach senior aerobics because a health fair will occupy the room we use. I’ll just staff a booth for part of the day and will try to interest seniors in becoming more active. That’s a very hard sell. I feel extremely lucky to have made the change from couch potato to active person.
Training log: About 12 miles of cycling on the Danskin course.
Motivation log: Today I used others to motivate myself for a bike ride. Several teammates posted that they would be out at Decker Lake by 7:30 a.m., so I said I’d be there too. I also gained motivation from my grandson, who did his first triathlon today. I’m very proud of him.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
On Track
It feels incredibly good to keep my commitments to myself. No more skirting the truth with excuses. I’m building confidence that I can stick to my training plan and gaining hope that this come-back after a winter off will go well.
This morning, I could easily have stayed in bed because I didn’t sleep as well as usual last night. What a great excuse a fitful night can be! I could easily have skipped the open water swim this morning because I swam last night. What a great excuse “been there, done that” can be! I could easily have given up because last night’s swim was horrible – my goggles kept fogging up, I kept going off course, the waves bothered me a bit, and I just never found my rhythm. What a great excuse “I have no talent” can be!
Like a recovering alcoholic declaring five days of sobriety, I’m thrilled to have been on track for five days now. It’s important to celebrate small steps because taking realistic pride in accomplishments is a great motivational tool and one that I use very seldom. I tend to ignore victories instead of using them as building blocks. All too often, I let negative thoughts overwhelm the knowledge that I’ve done something right. No more self-sabotage! The ordinary vicissitudes of life are enough trouble. I really need to stop shooting myself in the foot.
Training log: At least 1400 meters of open water swimming – three 400-meter loops around the buoys and four 50-meter mass starts across the cove.
Motivation log: Training early in the day is much, much better for me than an evening workout. Also, looking back on just five days of success promotes further success.
This morning, I could easily have stayed in bed because I didn’t sleep as well as usual last night. What a great excuse a fitful night can be! I could easily have skipped the open water swim this morning because I swam last night. What a great excuse “been there, done that” can be! I could easily have given up because last night’s swim was horrible – my goggles kept fogging up, I kept going off course, the waves bothered me a bit, and I just never found my rhythm. What a great excuse “I have no talent” can be!
Like a recovering alcoholic declaring five days of sobriety, I’m thrilled to have been on track for five days now. It’s important to celebrate small steps because taking realistic pride in accomplishments is a great motivational tool and one that I use very seldom. I tend to ignore victories instead of using them as building blocks. All too often, I let negative thoughts overwhelm the knowledge that I’ve done something right. No more self-sabotage! The ordinary vicissitudes of life are enough trouble. I really need to stop shooting myself in the foot.
Training log: At least 1400 meters of open water swimming – three 400-meter loops around the buoys and four 50-meter mass starts across the cove.
Motivation log: Training early in the day is much, much better for me than an evening workout. Also, looking back on just five days of success promotes further success.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pushing Through
No come-back proceeds in a straight upward line. Mine is no exception. Today I felt tired and had to push myself to keep some of my training commitments. The emotional component of today's fatigue was probably caused by disappointment that last night I couldn't find a safe route for biking to work this morning. If I focus on the positive aspects, however, I'm glad I took my bike in my car and rode a little in a neighborhood near work. That's better than nothing.
My open water swim this evening wasn't what I wanted either. I had to stop and clear my goggles several times, and I didn't go as far nor as fast as I'd hoped. Since this was the last activity of the day, I was pretty tired from the beginning. And yet, I didn't give up. I completed the loop I had planned. That's gotta count for something. I'm closing out the day by getting to bed reasonably early and by adopting a positive attitude toward the open water swim at Mansfield Dam tomorrow. I can use all the swim practice I can get.
Training log: 20 minutes of cycling and about 400 yards of open water swimming. I also taught senior aerobics and kayaked for about an hour in support of other swimmers at the lake.
Motivation log: I worked at training and focused on the first five minutes. I chugged along.
My open water swim this evening wasn't what I wanted either. I had to stop and clear my goggles several times, and I didn't go as far nor as fast as I'd hoped. Since this was the last activity of the day, I was pretty tired from the beginning. And yet, I didn't give up. I completed the loop I had planned. That's gotta count for something. I'm closing out the day by getting to bed reasonably early and by adopting a positive attitude toward the open water swim at Mansfield Dam tomorrow. I can use all the swim practice I can get.
Training log: 20 minutes of cycling and about 400 yards of open water swimming. I also taught senior aerobics and kayaked for about an hour in support of other swimmers at the lake.
Motivation log: I worked at training and focused on the first five minutes. I chugged along.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Motivation to Train
It was easy to accept the invitation to Worlds, but for seven puzzling weeks, I couldn't scrape up enough motivation for training to fog a mirror. Although I thought about swimming, cycling, and running nearly every day, I couldn't get going. I even started asking friends how to kick my own butt. Two people gave me good counsel.
Last week, a long-time friend approached my question indirectly. He asked me the meaning of "wrought." At first, I thought of "made," but then "worked" sprang to mind. He said that I had worked to change from a couch potato to a triathlete. I've always liked to work. In fact, "work" is one of my favorite four-letter words, right up there with "hope," "risk," "dare," and "love." Therefore, it will be work that gets me in shape for Worlds. With the concept of work in mind, I began scraping up a bit of motivation.
This week, a new friend addressed my concerns head-on. She said that the only thing you need to think about, with regard to motivation, is five minutes. When she really doesn't want to work out, she tells herself to give it just five minutes. Then if she still doesn't want to, she can stop. Since getting out the door is hard for all of us, it makes perfect sense to bribe yourself with a short workout. By the time five minutes have passed, however, you're feeling good and want to continue.
"Work." "Five minutes." Got it. I think I can hold on to those ideas. Thanks, friends!
Training log: 700 yards of easy pool swimming in a variety of drills and strokes.
Motivation log: Packed my gear to make it harder to back out of swimming.
Last week, a long-time friend approached my question indirectly. He asked me the meaning of "wrought." At first, I thought of "made," but then "worked" sprang to mind. He said that I had worked to change from a couch potato to a triathlete. I've always liked to work. In fact, "work" is one of my favorite four-letter words, right up there with "hope," "risk," "dare," and "love." Therefore, it will be work that gets me in shape for Worlds. With the concept of work in mind, I began scraping up a bit of motivation.
This week, a new friend addressed my concerns head-on. She said that the only thing you need to think about, with regard to motivation, is five minutes. When she really doesn't want to work out, she tells herself to give it just five minutes. Then if she still doesn't want to, she can stop. Since getting out the door is hard for all of us, it makes perfect sense to bribe yourself with a short workout. By the time five minutes have passed, however, you're feeling good and want to continue.
"Work." "Five minutes." Got it. I think I can hold on to those ideas. Thanks, friends!
Training log: 700 yards of easy pool swimming in a variety of drills and strokes.
Motivation log: Packed my gear to make it harder to back out of swimming.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Invitation to Worlds
The email inviting me to become a member of Team USA and go to the Sprint Triathlon World Championships in September actually arrived about seven weeks ago, but I've neglected to start blogging about this huge journey for a variety of reasons (okay, excuses). I downsized and moved from the suburbs of Round Rock to the SoCo area of Austin, Texas. I had to decide whether I could afford to pay my own way to Budapest, Hungary, and buy the required uniforms. I had figure out whether bone-on-bone arthritis in one knee would cause enough pain to prevent me from racing. I had to find out whether I could make a come-back after taking the winter off from training. Yadda-yadda-yadda.
Mainly, though, I had to get my head around this huge opportunity. After all, I just finished participating in Season 16 of The Amazing Race on CBS, which I thought would be the last big adventure of my life. My granddaughter and I were the second team eliminated (which sucked until I renamed us one of the Top Ten). The brothers, the cowboys, and the models were the first, second, and third to cross the finish line at Candlestick Park in San Francisco. On The Amazing Race, we visited Chile and Mexico, and now I'm going to Hungary? Wow! How did I get so lucky? It's just too bad my granddaughter isn't going to Worlds with me. She's enjoying life in Anchorage, where her parents live.
World Championships! Sounds pretty impressive, right? I'm delighted to be going, but honesty forces me to admit that I didn't have to jump through the qualifying races that younger amateur triathletes do. After thousands of them compete in at least three races per season, the top 16 to 18 in each five-year age group are invited to represent the United States in these championships. However, in our entire nation, only 17 women, age 70-74, finished three or more races sanctioned by USA Triathlon, the governing body. Of those 17, I rank only number 12. My 70-year-old brother informs me with a snort that 82 men in our age group finished three or more races. I predict that he'll get his chance at Worlds pretty soon, but first he has to finish three triathlons this season. (He's training -- stay tuned!) I'm elated to qualify for Worlds but saddened that so few older women compete in triathlon. I hope this blog will encourage some to take up the sport.
Only a day or two after I received the invitational email, I impulsively committed myself to going to Budapest before I finished moving, learning the cost of the trip, getting my knee X-rayed, and discovering how hard a comeback is at my age. Now that I'm settled in my lovely condo, I'm busily fundraising, icing my knee, and working on my fitness, both physical and mental. For the past seven weeks, I've been mucking about with this stuff, but now I feel ready to keep a public record of what it's like to train for Worlds at age 72. This blog will keep me motivated and on task. I know because my earlier blog, Jody's GGTT at the Austin American-Statesman, took me from couch potato to finisher of 15 triathlons and contestant on The Amazing Race. If I'm out there in public, I'm honest and optimistic. If I'm isolated and secretive, it's easy to weasel out of workouts.
So, where do I stand with my training? I'm really just starting. I've raced more than I've trained lately. This past Sunday, I raced the Skeese Greets Women's Triathlon, taking second in my age group in a time of 1:40:34 for a 300-meter swim, a 10.5-mile bike ride, and a 2-mile run. I ranked 389 out of 426 competitors. Last night I raced the Splash & Dash in 1:04:30 for a 750-meter swim and a 1.8-mile run. I ranked last. Both races gave me a huge motivational boost because they were loads of fun and my knee didn't kill me. I rediscovered that I love to race, even though I'm slow. I get just as great an endorphin rush as the fast racers do. I train in a similar fashion, develop similar nutrition and hydration plans, cover the same distances, and consider racing just as much a part of my life as the younger triathletes do. It's no crime to be slow. It's just too bad I haven't learned how to go faster. Yet.
Today, I'm taking a rest day except for teaching senior aerobics and strength training for an hour this morning. Henceforth, I'll post my training and motivational logs so I can keep track of them and make improvements. What you write, you can right. What you hide, you can't abide.
Mainly, though, I had to get my head around this huge opportunity. After all, I just finished participating in Season 16 of The Amazing Race on CBS, which I thought would be the last big adventure of my life. My granddaughter and I were the second team eliminated (which sucked until I renamed us one of the Top Ten). The brothers, the cowboys, and the models were the first, second, and third to cross the finish line at Candlestick Park in San Francisco. On The Amazing Race, we visited Chile and Mexico, and now I'm going to Hungary? Wow! How did I get so lucky? It's just too bad my granddaughter isn't going to Worlds with me. She's enjoying life in Anchorage, where her parents live.
World Championships! Sounds pretty impressive, right? I'm delighted to be going, but honesty forces me to admit that I didn't have to jump through the qualifying races that younger amateur triathletes do. After thousands of them compete in at least three races per season, the top 16 to 18 in each five-year age group are invited to represent the United States in these championships. However, in our entire nation, only 17 women, age 70-74, finished three or more races sanctioned by USA Triathlon, the governing body. Of those 17, I rank only number 12. My 70-year-old brother informs me with a snort that 82 men in our age group finished three or more races. I predict that he'll get his chance at Worlds pretty soon, but first he has to finish three triathlons this season. (He's training -- stay tuned!) I'm elated to qualify for Worlds but saddened that so few older women compete in triathlon. I hope this blog will encourage some to take up the sport.
Only a day or two after I received the invitational email, I impulsively committed myself to going to Budapest before I finished moving, learning the cost of the trip, getting my knee X-rayed, and discovering how hard a comeback is at my age. Now that I'm settled in my lovely condo, I'm busily fundraising, icing my knee, and working on my fitness, both physical and mental. For the past seven weeks, I've been mucking about with this stuff, but now I feel ready to keep a public record of what it's like to train for Worlds at age 72. This blog will keep me motivated and on task. I know because my earlier blog, Jody's GGTT at the Austin American-Statesman, took me from couch potato to finisher of 15 triathlons and contestant on The Amazing Race. If I'm out there in public, I'm honest and optimistic. If I'm isolated and secretive, it's easy to weasel out of workouts.
So, where do I stand with my training? I'm really just starting. I've raced more than I've trained lately. This past Sunday, I raced the Skeese Greets Women's Triathlon, taking second in my age group in a time of 1:40:34 for a 300-meter swim, a 10.5-mile bike ride, and a 2-mile run. I ranked 389 out of 426 competitors. Last night I raced the Splash & Dash in 1:04:30 for a 750-meter swim and a 1.8-mile run. I ranked last. Both races gave me a huge motivational boost because they were loads of fun and my knee didn't kill me. I rediscovered that I love to race, even though I'm slow. I get just as great an endorphin rush as the fast racers do. I train in a similar fashion, develop similar nutrition and hydration plans, cover the same distances, and consider racing just as much a part of my life as the younger triathletes do. It's no crime to be slow. It's just too bad I haven't learned how to go faster. Yet.
Today, I'm taking a rest day except for teaching senior aerobics and strength training for an hour this morning. Henceforth, I'll post my training and motivational logs so I can keep track of them and make improvements. What you write, you can right. What you hide, you can't abide.
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