So to my dismay on Monday I went into my somewhat yearly physical and was hit hard with the fact that I weigh more than I thought. I believe the scale said 161, a number I quickly tried to forget. And sitting here eating an uraro cookie (delicious!) instead of feeling guilty I'm gonna say f@ck it! We're f'in biking 80mi to San Diego on Saturday. I'd like to pick an average weight person off the street and see if they can do that! So even if I'm overweight for my height I'm doing more than what an underweight, average weight or your average overweight person will ever do! Boo-yah!
And on that note, spring cleaning update... This morning I slurped on a OJ, banana, strawberry, blueberry, and cabbage smoothie. Yes, cabbage. I pretty much take whatever vegetable in my fridge that is either on the edge or bought for the purpose of smoothies and blend them to the point of disappearing in my morning beverage. Last week it was chopped and pre-washed kale from Trader Joe's. Spinach is good. Chard. Carrots. Broccoli. The last couple days has been the cabbage that I had bought for a slaw that never got made. How do I do this without it being a weird consistency? I am the proud owner of a Vitamix blender. Yes, the same brand they use in professional kitchens and Jamba Juice. $400 at Costco and totally worth it. The only time that it had a problem was when I tried to make homemade hummus.
And for lunch we have an arugula, radicchio, lettuce, carrot, grape tomato, beet, feta salad with a balsamic and rice vinegar dressing. Nom!
Totally makes up for the tacos I had on Tuesday ;)
Oh, and my roommate said I'm looking more and more toned. Hell yes :D
I'm also developing a nice compression sleeve tan... I may need to sacrifice wearing those on the bike to avoid more tan lines. I really don't need more tan lines.
PowerBrick= 56mi ride + 10mi run I have very mixed emotions about what happened Saturday. It was fear, exhilaration, pain... I have not met the end of my rope. The camel's back is still intact. But I'd have to say that I got very close to it.
The day started well and all. I pack everything the night before and fill my bottles to save time. Saturday morning I woke, popped in my contacts, toasted my bagel and mixed my Accelerade (carb drink). My carpool buddy Lis picked me up and off we went. This time to Zuma beach. We got out of the car and were engulfed in a cold blast of wind. On a family trip to Hawaii we visited a cliff where a king used to throw his enemies off of. It was windy up there. You could literally lean against it. That's how windy it was on Zuma beach that day. It was a full transition day to prep us for races. There's something about wetsuits that always makes me more nervous. Oh ya, probably cause it's tight and harder to move around, I swear mine is too small for me. We started on the beach, wetsuit, caps and goggles on our little heads. Then with the blow of a whistle we were off!
Bike shoes, gloves, sunglasses, arm warmers, helmet, sun screen, Hoo-ha, bike. These were the things I had to remember during my transition. It's a lot to remember. I stuttered and stopped to count everything off in my head and make sure I remembered it all. A little jog then I mounted my bike and took off. There's only been another time this season where we experienced some major headwinds. Learning from that experience I told myself to not look at my mph because I knew it would only be mentally frustrating. When the wind is pushing you back you could be going as hard as you can and still not go as fast as you could minus the wind and it was headwinds till the turnaround at 18mi. 18mi. I did about 12mi in ONE HOUR. On a flat without wind my average is around 17mph. I am patting myself on the back for telling myself not to look at my mph because I would have been mentally unstable at that turnaround if I had. I also want to thank my coaches and bike fitter Nate for my aero bars. I think this was one of the few times I've been grateful for being smaller. Hunched over in the aero position the wind didn't feel like it was hitting me as hard. I was the sparrow cutting through the wind. Chirp. Another technique I used to stay sane was to have a breathing pattern. A nice calm inhale then a whistling exhale between my teeth. Like I was creating a beat to my own music. It was meditative staring at the asphalt listening to my whistling. The one torturous point during this section was Big Rock. Up PCH before you reach Los Posas is this giant rock detached from the rest of the mountains. I felt like I was in one of those car commercials where they put a car in a wind tunnel except instead of that car it was me. It felt like forever and the sound! The wind in my ears was deafening. At the turnaround I stopped to be accounted for by SAG and a teammate patted me on the back and said he was proud of me and had been trying to catch up with me the whole time but couldn't. Hooray! Encouragement is nice.
After the turnaround was a whole other story. With the wind at my back I was flying at 24 mph. It was fantastic! I was thoroughly enjoying myself and it made up for the long arduous work it took to get up to that point but all good things must end. Once back to where I started I again had to turnaround and face the wind. Then there was...
Encinal
Like Mandeville, Encinal is the name of a street which is also a hill. A 5mi long hill. On a graph it looks like this:
You see that giant tipi toward the end of my ride? That is a 5mi hill with over 1000ft in elevation gain. It's a category 2. One of the first hills they ever take us up is a category 5. Look how far we've come... It's painful.
The only reason I survived Encinal intact and without stopping was I realized when my heart rate shoots up and I get out of breath I panic which leads to a fearful mind saying "stop and take a break!" This time I took it nice and easy, not focusing on how long it would take me to get up the hill but instead focusing on keeping my breathing slow and controlled. It worked! No moments of panic, no huffing and puffing, just breathing. The views were beautiful, no matter how horrific the wind, it was a gorgeous day. Finally a teammate was on their way down and yelled "You're almost to the top! Just a half mile more!" At this time I was getting pretty weary. I had spent some time praying and trying to stay positive, counting my blessings. Thank you God for such a pretty day. Thank you God that I have the ability to do this. I've seen athletes with missing limbs. I see people in wheelchairs or walkers and it reminds me that I'm grateful that I am physically capable of doing this. And I thought of Chrissie Wellington's article (see previous blog) and thought of a positive image with people who support me and inspire me. In that last half mile I imagined my ex-girlfriend jogging alongside me with her hand on my back saying all the supportive things she's said in the past about my racing. "I'm so proud of you!" "You're super duper!" "You can do this!" It carried me to the end.
Then there was the run. Honestly, the bike was hard but for me the hardest part was the run. I didn't think the route was that hilly. There was one hill that I looked at and laughed at the ridiculousness of it so I walked it. That wasn't hard, that wasn't the problem. The hardest part was I could no longer take deep breaths. Anything deeper than the shallowest of breaths made me cough. Like exhaling was irritating to my insides and I had to get it out. It was disheartening. I felt good. I felt strong. But you can't really do anything if you can't breathe. I got a couple good jogs in but other than that I tried not to panic and just worked on calming myself down and walked. For 10mi. Then the last 2mi, remember those headwinds? I walked for 2mi face first into those headwinds. Squinting to keep the sand out of my eyes, freezing, I gritted my teeth, swung my arms and did my best to power walk straight to where my transition area was waiting. I immediately put on some clothes, grabbed my recovery drink, hid in the car, and called my ex to cry and tell her how hard it was.
I was not broken but I damn came close to it.
There's a moral to this story though. We kick our asses and push ourselves to the end during practice so when the race comes we've already gone through something harder. I'm scared of Wildflower but I'm beginning to think that it won't be as bad as I think. All of my teammates had a hard time that day. I heard there were lots of tears. People were saying it was one of the hardest practices they've had in all the seasons of the IronTeam they had been in. I'm hoping I'll be on the course at Wildflower and look back and think "practice was harder than this".
Negative self-talk. It seems so stupid. I have the tendency to be nice to everyone else except myself. I'm even doing it now. Why do we have that voice in our head that stirs up doubt and puts us down all the time? Don't pretend like you don't have it too!
A chunk of what it takes to do an Ironman distance triathlon (from what I'm told) is mental toughness. Your body is capable of doing the distance, it's just whether your mind wants to push through the discomfort, pain, and the overwhelming distance before you. It's one of the reasons I love practice. When I workout on my own my mind is full of excuses. "I could just walk. I can just do it tomorrow. I think I'll cut it short." But at practice I'm with my team. I have to do it. I enjoy it too. The camaraderie, the cheering for each other, and sometimes running or biking along side a friend is the best encouragement. Plus, a little of that competitive edge kicks in and you push a little harder to beat your friends which is nice too. I'll have a little of that at my race, but for the most part I expect to be by myself. It'll hurt. It'll be uncomfortable. Lonely. I will need some tools under my belt other than some Gus and Accelerade.
I recently read an article on CNN by Chrissie Wellington. I love Chrissie Wellington. Not only is she a 4 time World Ironman Champion (Pros, btw, finish the Ironman distance in under NINE HOURS. I'll be lucky if I finish in 15) but she's known to smile the whole way. In her bio it says she volunteered for the homeless after college, then while working in Nepal she raised money for an orphanage in her spare time (*swoon*), and she stumbled into the sport of triathlon.
Anyways... in the article Chrissie lists some of the techniques she uses to keep on keepin on.
Have a mantra and/or a special song to repeat
All of these have gone through my head at some point. "I can, I can, I can". "You can go hard, or you can go home." "I matter". "This just makes you stronger." "I'm a dolphin". "Run like a gazelle!". "This is easier than chemo!"
Keep a bank of positive mental images
I haven't done this. I'm not sure I'm an image person. Hmmmm, how about an image of a skinnier me? A flat stomach? A cure for cancer?
Practice visualization beforehand
Pre-race jitters are my enemy. They're worse than the race. I stand there with a bottle of water and my mini Altoids and I don't speak. I'll acknowledge you but I can't really carry on a conversation. I just stand there, wait, and make someone hug me. But I have tried this. Imagining how great it feels when I'm done with the swim. Imagining swimming and flowing through the water instead of flopping around and fighting it. Meditating on being triumphant instead of panic.
Break the race up into smaller, more manageable segments
My first coach always told us to go buoy to buoy on the swim. Each buoy the next goal. My race has loops in it so that my be either torture or help. Torture because I'll be passing where people are turning in to finish and help by cutting the race into pieces.
Remember that training is about learning to hurt
Ouch. I'm not good at being uncomfortable. Have I mentioned that?
Get people to support you
You dear readers! Everyone who's donated to my fundraising! Those who have bought a mile of my race. I'm debating on whether to write your names on my arm or tape that will go on my handle bars.
Mentally recall inspirational people
Like Chrissie Wellington? Or better yet, Uncle Rich.
Consider racing for a cause that is bigger than yourself
Leukemia and Lymphoma Society! Kicking cancer's ass!
As the race gets closer I'll be fine-tuning these thoughts and adding them to my arsenal of Ironman weapons of mass motivation. But for now... maybe I should take up meditation again?
Wildflower 21 days and counting!!! *shudder*
Probably the dumbest video I've put up so far but it goes with the theme, and of course, the chorus was a mantra that I've used.
A blog I read regularly is by my teammate Athena Jess. Recently she challenged herself and others to a Spring Cleaning challenge. The goal is to cut the crap and eat healthy so by the time Wildflower comes we'll be leaner triathletes. I don't have a lot of experience in this but I'm assuming it's easier to go up a hill when you don't have pounds of fat weighing you down. (For those of you who don't know, Wildflower is one of the hardest half Ironmans in the world and MY NEXT RACE on May 5th).
22 days and counting
I accepted the challenge and I'm consciously taking steps to see if I can reach a healthier me. As a wise woman once said "What you put into your body is more important than what you do with it".
While training for my life changing first 10k I (out of fear) was very conscious of what I was eating. It was salads, home cooking, and healthy choices when eating out. Of course everything wasn't health food but if it was cooked by myself or someone I knew I figured it was full of whole healthier ingredients than a chain restaurant or something from the frozen food isle. Also, if I craved something sweet I made it myself. Homemade cookies with wheat flour and reduced sugar and homemade ice creams either with reduced sugar or from frozen banana. The excess was always given to my coworkers so I wouldn't eat the whole thing. I also kept the alcohol to wine. Smaller amounts than beer, higher buzz, and has its own health benefits. By the time the 10k came I was down to 140. I'm currently around 155. I don't currently own a scale so that's the number I saw when I used a friends scale when I was using their bathroom. It's time to bring those good habits back.
I'd like to report that come Monday I was able to say no to all the leftover Easter candy in the office.
But it's been minor victories and minor failures. Like the half a bagel I had this morning (I love bagels!) - fail. The smoothies I've been having every morning filled with veggies and frozen fruits (my Vitamix is my best friend) - win. The beer float (really sad I didn't like it) I had this past weekend - fail. But I'm hoping to get more in the swing of things. I'm very happy to report I've been eating home cooking consistently for the last week and a half, though the first dish I made was a crock pot pork butt. Protein is good but probably not when it has a nice layer of unctuous fatty goodness. *Drool* This week is a veggie chili recipe from a friend where I added some ground beef. That's not too bad right? Except I've been adding generous amounts of cheddar cheese and I eat it over sticky rice. What? I'm Asian, we eat rice with everything! To keep me accountable you'll probably be reading some daily logs of how I'm doing, hope you don't mind.
One of the hardest things about eating healthy is my job. It's 8 hours of nothing but plastic walls, halogen lights, and dual screens. Ergonomic chairs are great but I don't move much during the day. To break up the monotony I tend to eat. Snack. Nom. I keep nuts at my desk, healthy in moderation but fatty in excess. Then there's the treats. I love my coworkers. They are one of the best parts of the job but I wish they brought fruit instead of donuts. Today was bagels, a sweet loaf of bread with chocolate chips, pumpkin pie, and a big bag of chips. This doesn't happen every day (thank God!) but maybe once every couple of weeks. I need to re-learn to "just say no!". Bagels are my drug and I need to go into recovery. Oh and there's the chocolate drawer. My coworker literally has a drawer where people can come and go into his cube and partake in his treasury of mini snickers, twixs, and whatever else. Time to break out the discipline. Maybe I should print out the elevation profile of the Wildflower bike route... Hey, actually that's a good idea.
To be honest, I began my Team in Training journey for purely selfish reasons. Some friends began doing triathlons and I wanted to join in but was overwhelmed. I was certain I couldn't train for them alone. After two seasons I was building my confidence, my health, and a growing list of races under my belt. It was great and to continue the challenge I joined IronTeam and decided to take on the beast that is the Ironman.
All of this hasn't changed, but something happened which helps me dig deeper than the idea of weightloss.
On January 28 2012 Richard Okamura passed after over a year of battling Central Nervous System Lymphoma. My uncle. My mother's youngest brother. My grandparent's youngest son. Father. Husband. Too young, too early.
Sometimes before practice people will come give speeches to remind us the real reason why Team in Training exists, why we are being trained, and why we raise money. I remember a teammate talking about how cancer patients didn't have a choice... but we do. I choose to do this so we can find a cure, for those who don't have a choice. Uncle Rich didn't have a choice about feeling sick, chemo, all the changes, discomforts, and struggles that came with the disease and the treatments. And my family didn't have a choice when they lost a loved one.
So now this isn't just for me. And I think about him when I'm struggling up a category 4 hill or enduring swollen blisters and worn out muscles. When I'm pushing that last hour on the bike. How I have a choice and he and countless others don't.
Uncle Rich sportin the stache and the girl behind him in the polo? ya, that's me.
In my 27 years of living in southern California I have never set foot in Six Flags Magic Mountain. I HATE roller coasters. The rushing wind in my face is like being smothered by a pillow. The sudden drops are like my stomach is trying to escape through my face with its entire contents out first. Anything that spins incites panic. When those seat-belts, lap-bars, shoulder harnesses are fastened I'm immediately looking for the exit. Filled with regret and fiery anger at whoever convinced me to get on this god-forsaken ride. The straitjacket is on and I'm shoved into the rubber room to endure the torture...
Now Disneyland is actually enjoyable (but IronMel it's rides made for children! SHUT UP), all except Splash Mountain. What a deceiving ride. You sit in log nestled between your good friends. There's fuzzy animals. Singing. It's all Chuck E. Cheese up in there. All of a sudden it turns dark, like PMS mood swings. Then *BOOM* you're heading face first down a waterfall gripping white knuckled for dear life so you don't fly out of that stupid fake log. Well, that's my guess how it goes. Once it starts to get dark my eyes are closed and I'm screaming.
What is funny though is that Splash Mountain (according to my internet research) goes only somewhere around 40mi an hour and I almost go that fast going downhill on my bike - AND I FRIGGIN LOVE IT. On my bike I love the sound of the rushing wind in my ears. I feel the need for speed. It's glorious. Thrilling. I'm in my highest gear pushing the pedals with all I've got to get the maximum amount of spin down the road and I'm sad once I hit the bottom. The fastest I've ever gone is 37mph and I want to go faster.
On my Saturday morning practice ride I had a triumph. After a struggle up Mandeville (just your friendly neighborhood 5mi long incline) it was time to turn around. Then the fun began. I was racing through the twists and turns downhill through the neighborhood when I realized something. Speed limit was 30mph. My bike computer said I was going 3omph.
I'm not sure if every cyclist feels this. For non-cyclists compare it to running after a cheetah, catching up, and keeping up with said cheetah. Either way, I had a huge smile on my face and some joyous laughter. Then I had to slow down for a stop sign and that brought me back to the task at hand.
So Splash Mountain - strapped in. Bike - clipped in. Both have drops. I suppose the biggest difference (other than log vs bike) is that the bike has breaks and handlebars. I'm in control. I tell it where to go, what to do, how fast, and it listens. See I'm not careening downhill, I'm always in control. If there is a sharp turn at the bottom, lots of cars, hazards, etc I will carefully pump my breaks to stay at a comfortable speed. But when all is well and I'm feeling good, it's balls out speed.
Proper attire is really important. Need I even say the word "helmet"? If you're out on a bike cruiser enjoying the blue sky along the beach it doesn't really matter though I do recommend the gangsta look and rolling up your pant leg unless you like getting bike grease on your clothes. But if you're out on the road with cars it's time to forget your pride and put on the spandex. Loose clothing means more chance of it getting caught in your bike. And for the love of God do not try to take things off while you're riding. I remember the story a friend told me. "A woman was going downhill during a century ride. She was trying to take off her jacket while in motion and the sleeve got caught in the bike and she went head first tumbling down the rest of the hill." I'm not a fan of road rash or brain trauma. I'm also not a fan of skin cancer. SPF it kids, or pay the consequences.
Lube
In the beginning I was walking through a bike shop and an employee approached me and asked me if I had tried Hoo-Ha. I almost slapped him. Not really. But I had no idea what he was talking about. When you're riding for more than an hour things chafe. (Also another reason for the tight clothing) Lube like Hoo-Ha, Chamois Butter, DZ Nuts and other creatively named products keep you from hurting in your special place. Also, lubing your chain is important for regular bike maintenance but remember not to accidentally switch the two.
Communication is Key
No man is an island, and it's the same when you're on your bike. You don't have the luxuries that cars have, break lights, turn signals, a ton of metal. I know most of the hand signals that cyclists should use, but the one I use the most is left turn. We want to live to ride another day. If you're in a bike lane and have to avoid something and need to move into the lane - Signal! There are also those special situations where being vocal helps. I try to avoid calling people names because I don't want them to retaliate. Cars win over my 150something pounds of soft pudgy flesh. Saturday while going down Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica there are lots of tourists looking for a good parking spot. One such driver was driving slowly in the bike lane with their turn signal on yet eventually went right back into the car lane in which I yelled "MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" There's the common situation where I'm going down a street and a car is looking to turn right into my lane. If they don't look like they're paying attention I yell "DON'T KILL ME" When their windows are rolled up this may be in vain but I'm pretty loud so I think it helps, if not to keep them from injuring me then to help me release my anger at them.
Toys While Not Necessary Help Make it a More Enjoyable Experience
I have a love/hate relationship with my bike computer. For a period of time I thought it was broken, frustrating to no end since it wasn't cheap. Apparently there's something in the garage that disrupts the communication (it's wireless) when I do my trainer rides. Whenever I'm out in the open it's been working with little to no hitch. You don't need one to ride a bike, but when your coaches hound you to keep a certain cadence and report your ride distance and time it definitely helps with training and avoiding injury.
Cheat on your car, go ride a bike!
I know there's controversy about Katy Perry becoming a Marine in this video, which I find almost laughable. I just like the video cause she's cute in short hair.
First and foremost I wanted to thank everyone for their encouraging comments! It's nice to know I have an audience.
2900 yards in the bag last night during an hour and a half practice. 2900 yards is about 1.6 miles. My race has a 2.4 mile swim.
And I hate swimming.
Well hate is a strong word (lots of strong words in this blog). It's uncomfortable. With biking and running I can at least get off and just walk, with swimming the equivalent is turning on your back and blindly trying to keep your forward momentum going. Or you can just sit there bobbing like the buoy you are struggling to reach and become overwhelmed with the giant expanse of water surrounding you. It's like being stuck in your seat surrounded by people in the burning down theater...
Have I mentioned I have a control and anxiety issue?
During a long drive to a practice race a teammate and I shared our love for the sports the other one feared. Her's the bike, me the swim. I love the bike. It's exhilarating to be speeding 35mi an hour, your body cutting through the wind like a knife through butter, at one with the machine. She explained how the swim was like an embrace. Safe. Enveloping. But you see the swim is one of those things where my mind is like "help! we can't get out till we finish this and we are a slow @ss!" Also there's no mints or drinking water. I have a phobia of my mouth going dry which began when I started having panic attacks in college (a story all its own). I no longer have the attacks, at least at that severity, but when I'm nervous my pacifier is mini Altoids and drinking water. There's no Altoids in the ocean. There's no drinking water in the ocean! At least in fresh water or the pool I can swish some water (which is gross but you gotta do what you gotta do) but the last thing I need is a mouth full of salt water.
Can I confess something? For every scheduled open water swim I've prayed for rain, and it rained! I'm not claiming to be the reason for the rain but I feel guilty to be hoping to avoid something I desperately should be attempting to get over my anxiety. This is my third season with a triathlon team with Team in Training! I should have TONS of open water swimming experience, right? NOPE. My first season it rained every weekend. I had one open water swim practice before my race. The race went surprisingly well but you can not understand my relief when it was done. I felt like I could laugh again. It was being released into freedom Shawshank style.It was this:
My sister, cheering on the sidelines, thought I was in pain. I'm not sure what happened but the outsides do not match the rainbows and unicorns I was feeling on the inside. My second season we had about 2 chances for some open water action. The first one I was frozen with the waves around my knees staring nervously at the blue in front of me. As a mentor it was shameful, embarrassing. I was supposed to help my mentees but instead they came out of the water and told me how fun it was.
Now here we are. A week or so ago the day before a scheduled OWS Ninja Coach (who affectionately now calls me M-Kak) pointed at me and said "open water swim"! He knows I have two other seasons under my belt and apparently has faith that I'm comfortable in the liquid blue salt lick. Eh...
But this is why I'm here. With each 10k getting easier, then my completion of half marathons, I needed another challenge. I never wanted it to stop there. So tris were the next step and now this massive undertaking of the Ironman. This is how I want to live my life. Facing fears. After the "bus incident" (see previous blog) I had nothing left so there was nothing left to lose. My motto became "do it till it's easy". Since then I've reconstructed and rebuilt so that aggressive nothing left to lose feeling has faded so it's a little harder to attack fears head on but I haven't stopped. Sometimes I read old journal entries and try to bring it back. Why fear?
I'm not a skinny person. I've never been a skinny person. I was the kid other kids made fun of in elementary school and called really creative names like "tub o' lard" and "Shamu". When I played basketball in the Japanese league (why did my parents think I had a future in basketball? I'm 5'4!) I'd cry when they'd make me run extra laps for being the slowest. Many of my teammates grew up playing sports, track stars, water polo, swim team. I was never athletic. I'd walk the mile in junior high. The closest thing to athletic was the JV volleyball team in JH and marching band in high school. I attribute my decent looking calves to marching backwards on my toes. You try forcefully exhaling into an instrument, bounding across the football field like a gazelle, and holding a 7lb hunk of metal in front of you for an extended period of time. When I put on my black wetsuit I worry about sharks because I think I resemble a seal. A cute seal. The sleek round ones with long whiskers and giant puppy-like eyes. I saw a recent picture of myself in my wetsuit, it's like it was squeezing all the excess fat to my neck, like a tube of toothpaste. I did not tag myself on fb, which is sad cause it was a good quality picture. Believe me it was not the most attractive pic of me even when the majority of my pics are of me making ridiculously stupid smiley faces.
Then three years ago I was hit by a bus.
Metaphorically.
I experienced rejection in a whole new way. As a sign that this was not your normal hurt feelings I exploded into a private meeting (in a church...) and yelled at someone, screamed, punched a wall and walked out assisted by a friend screaming and crying. I tend to keep my anger inside. I don't usually speak my mind. That was a big deal. Then I was essentially dead inside. I no longer was the positive, cheery, goofy person I once was. I cried all the time. I felt lost. Like my insides had turned into a puddle of heavy goo and I was weighted to the floor slowly oozing and becoming one with my bed. A zombie.
Then I began to run. It started as a way to prove to the world that I could do this. That I was better than "them". Just a mile a day. Then 2 miles a day. I'd get up religiously every morning and just run. The only time I wasn't heavy with emotion was when I was flying through the neighborhood, quick beating music pounding in my ears, matching my heart. My friends worried about me. I didn't laugh anymore. So they woke me up. They asked me to do an Olympic distance triathlon relay with them, with me on the run. The longest I had ever gone was 2mi so 6mi seemed like an unreachable goal. After some hesitation I said yes, found a plan online and went after it wholeheartedly. My friends depended on me, I needed to run it for them, and lastly for me. (and I lost 10lbs in the process)
The day came and I was alive. Excited. INSPIRED. It was a new world. Transition area? Tri-suits? Race waves? I will never forget this woman. More than twice my age, small, and with one friggin' leg. She had one leg! And she was doing the whole race by herself. WTF. Every shape and size and person was here to swim, bike, and run. Different speeds. Road bike. Mountain bike. You didn't have to be tall and lean, you just had to be yourself and no one judged you for it. In fact they cheered you on. And I ran. And I got lost. Somehow I ended up off the race course and saw other competitors above me on a different path, but it didn't matter. We finished and I was hooked.
Since then I've done numerous 10k's, 1 5k, 2 half marathons, 2 sprint tris and 3 olympic distance tris. Now I'm training for an Ironman distance race, where biking for 4 hours is becoming normal and running 13mi isn't a big deal anymore.
When people say they could never do what I do, I laugh. Of course you can. If I can, you can. All you need is a little help from some friends and to wake up.
Team in Training helps too ;)
*my favorite photo of me running toward the finish line at Big Rock Tri 2009. and when i used to run a 1:06 10k. (how did i get slower...)
I've been meaning to start this blog since November but the process of choosing a design, a title, a header, pictures, widgets, etc was too much and triggered my instinct to procrastinate. But here we are 4 months in and words are now showing up on the screen soon to be available to the world to see. Let's sum up the experience so far to one phrase:
To quote my teammate "This shit ain't easy."
Yes, I knew this would be a challenge. My fundraising goal is $6,000, I have workouts 6 days (or more) a week, a full time job with regular hours, and a desire to keep some resemblance of a social life... I'm kind of failing at all of it. Actually failing is a harsh word. I'm $4,364 in, which blows my mind because this time last year I barely made it to $3000. Thank goodness for self addressed envelopes in the yearly Xmas newsletter. I am trying to keep up with the workouts. Each time I miss one it's like doom, I feel like I'm prescribing disaster for myself with each day that I'm "too tired" or planned my day poorly. Which I am, which is also a prescription for fear and anxiety. I guess this is the part I'm failing the most at. And the social life? I see my ex regularly, yes ex, nothing is going on there. Just someone I don't have to hide anything from. My whiny baby pathetic self can come out when she's around and I don't have to pretend I'm strong, funny, intelligent or what have you - though it sometimes drives her crazy she still puts up with it. But we aren't here to talk about my dysfunction, at least not in this aspect of my life. Where were we? Social life, this past weekend was probably one of the first weekends where I felt I balanced friendships with training pretty well. I guess 3 weeks without a cell phone kicked me into gear to reach out and see non-triathletes for a change.
So ok, I'm not failing but I don't quite feel like I'm kicking ass and my races are coming closer and closer. This also came yesterday.
Cue pounding heart and sweaty palms. It's coming. It's a ways away but it'll come. So maybe it's time to kick my own ass all the way to kicking ass.
Can I share one encouraging thing? Not only are the workouts getting longer and I'm completing them (60mi ride on Saturday and 12-13mi run on Sunday, pretty much a half Ironman for the last two weekends) but I can notice physical changes. It's not the changes that I really want like a decrease in muffin top but it's... my thighs. I've never loved my thighs so much in my life. They're firming up quite nicely with a thinning layer of fat, even the inner side! So when I need a lil bit of convincing that I'm progressing I just give them a squeeze. Never doubt the motivational power of muscle definition.
