I didn’t set out with great expectations, I swear. But at one point, I turned to Bones and said, “This is not how I expected this to go.” And yet, the Run the Caldera Marathon 2010 may have been one of the best learning opportunities to date for me.
I anticipated finishing in about 5 hours, give or take, after running conservatively and easily, just letting my legs cover the distance. I love the locale of the race, so I was looking forward to seeing the meadow, and the wildflowers, hearing the streams. I was looking forward to being happy out there.
I did not get what I wanted. I guess we’ll see if I got what I needed.
We had to wait at the start for about 45 minutes, as lightning from a brief passing storm had started a small fire. The volunteer fire dept (THANK YOU VOLUNTEERS!) contained it quickly and we started.
My first thought: Wow, my legs are heavy.
Second thought: really really heavy.
Third: I’ve never felt my legs like this. Not even last week after running long with S. Baboo and then running longish with Kenbot the next day. Not even close.
Were small children hanging on to my legs and dragging their weight behind me? No. Had someone inserted lead into my shoes? Doubtful.
Am I really this tired? Huh. Guess so.
I plodded along, feeling like I had already run 20 or 30 miles even though we had just started. I hoped my legs would warm up and return to their normal peppy state…. But it was clear by mile 3 that I was hoping in vain. Lucky for me, Bones was running nearby, and selflessly decided to stay with me.
Normally, chatting or being chatted to while running tires me out. It can make me feel worse about how I’m doing even if I’m doing well, and can make me feel worse – even guilty – if I’m feeling bad. I’m not sure why. Maybe I assume that the person with me is having an easier time of it than I. Maybe it’s the difference between having to work to listen and understand someone, and being alone with my own thoughts. Which, while running I think about nothing in particular. Maybe it’s about having a witness, a fear of being judged.
But, that day, my head wasn’t a great place to be. It wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t thinking about nothing in particular. It was thinking that “I suck” and “At this rate, you’ll be out here all day” and “nobody else feels as bad as you do.” Chatting with Bones was enjoyable and a relief.
Lots of people passed us on the first climb that goes from 8000 to 10,000 ft. We walked just about the whole thing, except for one or two flatter spots. We did not pass a single person. We saw my friend Barry rejoin the trail – he had taken a wrong turn for an extra 2 miles. I thought that since I was going so slowly, I had an excellent opportunity to try taking in 2 gels an hour – in an attempt to get more calories. After gel #3, I abandoned that plan. No matter that I was walking, it was too much. Back to the drawing board on that one.
Got to the top (9.4 miles) in 1:54. “Waaaaait just a second here. That’s not really so bad. Do I still feel horrible?”
Yep.
"Huh.”
I couldn’t help but compare it to my times and splits from previous years:
Top of climb finish
2009 1:46 4:54
2008 1:55 5:13
2007 2:04 5:45
So it would seem like I was on track to ~5:13 finish. “No way. You’re too slow, it’ll be 6 hours.” We headed down the long descent. I couldn’t really relax into it, and my brain was definitely trying to convince me to walk.
“Ooo, that step kinda hurt. Don’t you think you should walk awhile? You know, just til it stops hurting? No?
...
How about we walk this little flattish spot. You can run when it gets steeper again. No?
...
Here’s an aid station. I know you’re wearing your hydration pack, but how about you stop for a coke. Some ginger ale?
...
Ah, the watch timer went off. Why not walk while you take your salt tab? You wouldn’t want to choke on it. Just a few steps…”
And on it went. I caved a few times. Especially when it came to the coke at the aid station. :0 After noting the time at the top, I checked our pace – my pace – as we went down and as we crossed the meadow of the caldera. Some 8:10s, 8:20s, 8:30s, 9s. Finally, I stopped looking at my watch – I just couldn’t stand the contradiction. I was feeling so awful, but the pace wasn’t reflecting just how awful I felt. Maybe the battery was dying. Whatever was going on, dwelling on it, trying to reason through it was frustrating. Better just to keep running, and walking the uphills. Forget the watch.
I checked with Bones a few times when I couldn’t stand it any longer, and he’d confirm that we were bound to finish just after 5, maybe 5:15 or 5:20. I couldn’t believe it. But mostly we talked about the Turkey factoid mile markers, the flowers, our training, Leadville, life. I knew I was slowing him down quite a bit. I offered him the chance to leave several times, but he declined. This is antithetical to me – I can definitely learn this generosity of spirit from Bones. For me, a race = goals. So it’s a big leap for me to see the value in setting aside any goals, and just keeping someone company that would appreciate it.
There weren’t any elk in the meadow as we passed through, just some cattle and horses in the distance. This year, the wind was blowing too much for the grasshoppers to be popping up from the ground like popcorn. It was so dry, the soil – aka volcanic ash – coated our legs. Bones made “poof-poof-poof” noises as sound effects as we stirred up clouds of dust with each step. I know the course pretty well, this being my fourth time, so I could tell Bones what was coming up. We had fun.
I felt no different at the end than I did at the start. Tired legs and achy feet. We crossed the line in 5:08, way faster than I had expected. Way happier with my day than I had expected, too. So I guess this serves as lesson 1 on how to run on tired legs. And lesson 1 on how to avoid the pit of despair in your own head. And maybe the preliminary lesson on how to run with friends.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Remedial Ultrarunning Summer School
I include “remedial” in the title just in case you might think I was in some kind of advanced placement group. No.
Several teachers have been tag teaming the lessons. I can only assume that they find watching their pupil entertaining in some way, as these teachers are way overqualified.
So far, I have had several tough lessons. I shall enumerate:
1.) Getting up early to run (all the teachers do this): It’s hot here. See #2. Best to run as early as possible. Weekends are no longer for sleeping in. No more Saturday mornings staying in bed until 7. I may have pouted a bit about this, but I’m not telling.
2.) Running in the heat (Barry, Jim, Mike, Cedric, Tim, Matt): See #1. But, when the run is going to last 6 hours or more, the heat of the day will be a part of the run no matter what direction you take. Better to get used to running in the heat for shorter periods in the middle of the day. I may have dozed off in this lesson – it was warm and I was tired. But I heard something about blood plasma volume. And saunas? Or was that sofas, as in, you should stay seated on yours for the duration of the summer? Doubtful. Anyway, I think water is important.
3.) Running and hiking up hills (Jean, Ken, Kurt, Kelly): Kelly’s favorite trail is short, and one of the steepest I’d been on until Jean showed me one of her favorites that required scrambling on all fours. The point here seems to be to go until you get to the top, but not necessarily by the most direct route. Ken instructed me to get some trekking poles, which seem useful on the way up. On the way down however, well… that’s another lesson (I hope). Kurt’s method of uphill training involves the ski hill. Repeating the hill over and over is encouraged. Or sometimes a stair climber. I don’t get this one yet. Maybe I should try it more than once?
4.) Running downhills (Kurt, Jean, Brian): Once I manage to keep up with the instructors, I may learn something. Kurt got stuck behind me at the Jemez Mountain Trail Run, and he couldn’t stop moaning and groaning about my *ahem* downhill technique. I told you this was remedial summer school. Kurt did point out that the shoes I had been wearing were not up to the job.
5.) Running at altitude (Jean): Mostly a demonstration lesson, as in, “This trail is at 10,000 ft. Now let’s run.”
6.) Tripping (Brian): I couldn’t hear most of this lesson – Brian was running in front of me down the trail (he also conducted a downhill lesson). But the demonstrations were instructive. I managed a good fall with minimal damage that LOOKED bad. Which I guess is the point, to make others think you are tough? Like I said, I didn’t hear the finer points of this lesson. Brian seemed disappointed that there wasn’t more blood though. I’m not sure if he was serious. The next day, Ken seemed satisfied that I was making progress in this area, at least.
7.) Nutrition and Weight loss (Nutritionist Kaylie): I thought I needed help with this one. I’d like to be about 120 at Leadville, and after Jemez I was 129, a few pounds over my typical weight. After two weeks of running 60 miles per week, uh, I’m down to 123. Ok then. Kaylie said that I can drink 2 cokes a day. Her only comments were that maybe I could eat more fruit, and take a multivitamin for crying out loud. The real challenge has been to finish running early enough in the evening so that I can eat something before I go to bed.
In the following weeks, we are going to cover:
8.) Eating while running
9.) Drinking while running
10.) Running while tired - I think I'm getting the hang of this one on my own...
11.) Running in the dark
12.) Refueling post run
13.) Aid station blitzes
I’ve heard the end of summer exam is a b!tch. :)
Several teachers have been tag teaming the lessons. I can only assume that they find watching their pupil entertaining in some way, as these teachers are way overqualified.
So far, I have had several tough lessons. I shall enumerate:
1.) Getting up early to run (all the teachers do this): It’s hot here. See #2. Best to run as early as possible. Weekends are no longer for sleeping in. No more Saturday mornings staying in bed until 7. I may have pouted a bit about this, but I’m not telling.
2.) Running in the heat (Barry, Jim, Mike, Cedric, Tim, Matt): See #1. But, when the run is going to last 6 hours or more, the heat of the day will be a part of the run no matter what direction you take. Better to get used to running in the heat for shorter periods in the middle of the day. I may have dozed off in this lesson – it was warm and I was tired. But I heard something about blood plasma volume. And saunas? Or was that sofas, as in, you should stay seated on yours for the duration of the summer? Doubtful. Anyway, I think water is important.
3.) Running and hiking up hills (Jean, Ken, Kurt, Kelly): Kelly’s favorite trail is short, and one of the steepest I’d been on until Jean showed me one of her favorites that required scrambling on all fours. The point here seems to be to go until you get to the top, but not necessarily by the most direct route. Ken instructed me to get some trekking poles, which seem useful on the way up. On the way down however, well… that’s another lesson (I hope). Kurt’s method of uphill training involves the ski hill. Repeating the hill over and over is encouraged. Or sometimes a stair climber. I don’t get this one yet. Maybe I should try it more than once?
4.) Running downhills (Kurt, Jean, Brian): Once I manage to keep up with the instructors, I may learn something. Kurt got stuck behind me at the Jemez Mountain Trail Run, and he couldn’t stop moaning and groaning about my *ahem* downhill technique. I told you this was remedial summer school. Kurt did point out that the shoes I had been wearing were not up to the job.
5.) Running at altitude (Jean): Mostly a demonstration lesson, as in, “This trail is at 10,000 ft. Now let’s run.”
6.) Tripping (Brian): I couldn’t hear most of this lesson – Brian was running in front of me down the trail (he also conducted a downhill lesson). But the demonstrations were instructive. I managed a good fall with minimal damage that LOOKED bad. Which I guess is the point, to make others think you are tough? Like I said, I didn’t hear the finer points of this lesson. Brian seemed disappointed that there wasn’t more blood though. I’m not sure if he was serious. The next day, Ken seemed satisfied that I was making progress in this area, at least.
7.) Nutrition and Weight loss (Nutritionist Kaylie): I thought I needed help with this one. I’d like to be about 120 at Leadville, and after Jemez I was 129, a few pounds over my typical weight. After two weeks of running 60 miles per week, uh, I’m down to 123. Ok then. Kaylie said that I can drink 2 cokes a day. Her only comments were that maybe I could eat more fruit, and take a multivitamin for crying out loud. The real challenge has been to finish running early enough in the evening so that I can eat something before I go to bed.
In the following weeks, we are going to cover:
8.) Eating while running
9.) Drinking while running
10.) Running while tired - I think I'm getting the hang of this one on my own...
11.) Running in the dark
12.) Refueling post run
13.) Aid station blitzes
I’ve heard the end of summer exam is a b!tch. :)
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wish fulfillment
At IMSG, I did several things right. I stayed within myself on the bike so that I could do well in the run. I ate close to my target (1680 vs target of 2200 calories). I drank. I took Tums when my stomach was in question. I took Endurolytes every half hour as planned. I enjoyed my day in part because of these things.
But finishing in 14:38 tickled an itch that I can't reach - an itch to try to go so much faster than that. To race.
If swimming a whole 9 times, and biking 115 miles a week gets me a 14:38 on a hard course, what would serious training get me? I think this is a good future goal. You know, Post Leadville.
Of course, now that thought has occurred to me, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd like to race an Ironman. And the Quad too. And maybe a marathon, I bet I could best my 3:53 marathon time. Oooo, what about my 21:40 5K time?
And then at Jay Benson (Sprint distance Tri ) this past weekend, I was the runner for a relay team on a 3 mile course.... *poof*
I ran 20:21.
It's only 3 miles, not 3.1 (5K). But it was 1 week post IM, so my recovery was still in progress. If I add 0.1 miles on to that at the same pace, I'd have finished in 21:02. Wahoo! Plus, I beat all the other relay team runners, except for one. Double wahoo! It's not qualifying for Kona, but it's still cool.
But finishing in 14:38 tickled an itch that I can't reach - an itch to try to go so much faster than that. To race.
If swimming a whole 9 times, and biking 115 miles a week gets me a 14:38 on a hard course, what would serious training get me? I think this is a good future goal. You know, Post Leadville.
Of course, now that thought has occurred to me, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd like to race an Ironman. And the Quad too. And maybe a marathon, I bet I could best my 3:53 marathon time. Oooo, what about my 21:40 5K time?
I ran 20:21.
It's only 3 miles, not 3.1 (5K). But it was 1 week post IM, so my recovery was still in progress. If I add 0.1 miles on to that at the same pace, I'd have finished in 21:02. Wahoo! Plus, I beat all the other relay team runners, except for one. Double wahoo! It's not qualifying for Kona, but it's still cool.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The St. George postscript
Post race, I was happy overall. The next day (Sunday) we had planned to go to Zion, but instead we ate Belgian waffles, retrieved our special needs bags, ate more, and Lorna and I went for a hike in Pioneer park, staying out maybe 2 hours. The park was well worth our attention with huge boulders and interesting formations. I couldn’t resist climbing up this:
We tracked a lizard and his insect prey. It was a fairly gentle hike. I was stiff but not sore. Which proves to me yet again that I have no idea how to push myself in a long race. I think I will try to learn this after Leadville – I accept that I might faceplant spectacularly, maybe several times. Any failures would be worth it to know that once at the finish line, I gave more than I thought I could, and every drop that I was capable of. I hope at the end of this year of “going long” I don’t feel regret about doing so slowly. Anyway, I digress. The hike really felt good, and I think helped me recover faster. I’m sure the pizza we had after also helped me recover!
Monday, Bones, Lorna and I headed off to Zion. I was happily looking forward to hiking “the Narrrows” the scene of so many mesmerizing red sandstone slot canyon pictures. Somehow in my excitement, I drove past the visitors center. The extra 6 miles I drove meant Bones and Lorna got to enjoy the tunnels and Checkerboard Mesa, where we stopped to turn around. I met some French people and spoke with them a bit which was nearly my favorite part of the day.Ca fait longtemps que j’ai parlais francais. Ca me fait du bien.
We made it back to the visitors center and to the magnificently efficient shuttles to take us into the park to our hike at the terminus of the route. Once there, we found that the Narrows was closed – the river was too full of run-off. Too bad, but we enjoyed the short 2 mile Riverwalk hike anyway.
Then, impressed by the shuttle operator’s description of Angel’s Landing, we decide to give that hike a try. Lorna and Bones, who broke a toe in the IM, both thought they were up for the strenuous hike. On the surface, it seems like no big deal. 5 miles round trip, 1500 ft elevation gain to the top. So why would it take 4-5 hours as the park guide says? The guide answers that question as well:
“Angels Landing is one of the world's great hikes - perhaps the best short adventure hike in any US national park. It provides amazing views of Zion Canyon. Physically, this hike isn't that challenging. Virtually anyone in average physical condition can make the trek. But it is mentally challenging because the final leg is very steep, with sheer drop-offs. Chains have been bolted to the cliff to provide secure handholds. People seriously afraid of heights should not attempt the final leg, but can still have a very enjoyable hike up to Scout Lookout.”
looking down the trail of switchbacks
We hike up to Scout lookout with a few pauses to catch our breaths, including a fun little scramble up to this hidey hole:
At Scout lookout, I really want to go for broke and head out to Angel’s Landing. Lorna and Bones turn back – his toe would not have appreciated the scramble that ensued. The final half mile directs hikers along a fingernail of cliff to steep, vertical trails where occasionally the trail is unclear on the sandstone. The chain lets me haul myself up. At one point, the trail is 2 feet across, with sharp drop offs to either side and an open view up and down the canyon from a fantastic height. It took a good 20-25 minutes to do that ½ mile.
the narrowest part of the trail
the trail goes up here, and then vertically to the right... there's a chain up there somewhere.
the view down canyon
the view off the point
the view up canyon
After enjoying the view and the experience at the point, I headed back. I scrambled back to Scout Lookout, and then ran down from there so that my friends wouldn’t have to wait long. Everything felt good to go – my legs didn’t complain, except to let me know that running in my hiking boots was not very comfortable.
To finish off our day, Bones drags us along an easy 0.6 mi trail to the lower emerald pool. Along the way we spot 3 deer and hear a turkey in the distance. Every third person we saw at the park that day was an ironman participant, it seemed. It was a fantastic, immense, beautiful day, although not very gentle on our bodies. I’m not entirely sure that we even know what that means…
We tracked a lizard and his insect prey. It was a fairly gentle hike. I was stiff but not sore. Which proves to me yet again that I have no idea how to push myself in a long race. I think I will try to learn this after Leadville – I accept that I might faceplant spectacularly, maybe several times. Any failures would be worth it to know that once at the finish line, I gave more than I thought I could, and every drop that I was capable of. I hope at the end of this year of “going long” I don’t feel regret about doing so slowly. Anyway, I digress. The hike really felt good, and I think helped me recover faster. I’m sure the pizza we had after also helped me recover!
Monday, Bones, Lorna and I headed off to Zion. I was happily looking forward to hiking “the Narrrows” the scene of so many mesmerizing red sandstone slot canyon pictures. Somehow in my excitement, I drove past the visitors center. The extra 6 miles I drove meant Bones and Lorna got to enjoy the tunnels and Checkerboard Mesa, where we stopped to turn around. I met some French people and spoke with them a bit which was nearly my favorite part of the day.Ca fait longtemps que j’ai parlais francais. Ca me fait du bien.
We made it back to the visitors center and to the magnificently efficient shuttles to take us into the park to our hike at the terminus of the route. Once there, we found that the Narrows was closed – the river was too full of run-off. Too bad, but we enjoyed the short 2 mile Riverwalk hike anyway.
Then, impressed by the shuttle operator’s description of Angel’s Landing, we decide to give that hike a try. Lorna and Bones, who broke a toe in the IM, both thought they were up for the strenuous hike. On the surface, it seems like no big deal. 5 miles round trip, 1500 ft elevation gain to the top. So why would it take 4-5 hours as the park guide says? The guide answers that question as well:
We hike up to Scout lookout with a few pauses to catch our breaths, including a fun little scramble up to this hidey hole:
At Scout lookout, I really want to go for broke and head out to Angel’s Landing. Lorna and Bones turn back – his toe would not have appreciated the scramble that ensued. The final half mile directs hikers along a fingernail of cliff to steep, vertical trails where occasionally the trail is unclear on the sandstone. The chain lets me haul myself up. At one point, the trail is 2 feet across, with sharp drop offs to either side and an open view up and down the canyon from a fantastic height. It took a good 20-25 minutes to do that ½ mile.
After enjoying the view and the experience at the point, I headed back. I scrambled back to Scout Lookout, and then ran down from there so that my friends wouldn’t have to wait long. Everything felt good to go – my legs didn’t complain, except to let me know that running in my hiking boots was not very comfortable.
To finish off our day, Bones drags us along an easy 0.6 mi trail to the lower emerald pool. Along the way we spot 3 deer and hear a turkey in the distance. Every third person we saw at the park that day was an ironman participant, it seemed. It was a fantastic, immense, beautiful day, although not very gentle on our bodies. I’m not entirely sure that we even know what that means…
Friday, May 7, 2010
Party at Ironman St. George
Everything about this race week was over the top.
The drive out (Wed): wind gusts of 60-70 mph (some reported 99) and sandstorms as bad for visibility as any snowstorm I’d ever been in. I drove out alone, after Co stayed home to take care of our dog who came up lame the Sunday before we were to leave. After 10 hours of singing along to my i-pod, I was ready to be there, but instead I took the long route to Saint George Utah, going through Zion National Park. Imposing red rock formations sculpted by the wind and water to resemble intertwined muscle fibers, or checkerboards, or smooth banded surfaces waited around every corner. I couldn’t wait to get back to check it all out properly.
The house: large enough for the 10 of us (8 adults, two kids) with a strange assortment and layout of rooms and addons. The renter was uncommunicative and had me a little paranoid that he had run off with our money 2 weeks before the race – that’s a whole other story. But at $25/night per person, we weren’t complaining. And 3 blocks from T2 and the finish line meant we wouldn’t need to ferry athletes, gear, and bikes by car. Fabulous!
Dinner at twentyfive main café was a yummy “two fifteen” panini, quick, and perfect and we got to see the finish line and T2 being set up on our walk there. (oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!)
Course Recon: On Thursday, we dropped off gear, saw the expo, and got tattooed with our race numbers.
Deciding to save the swim for Friday, we grabbed lunch at the house, then went to drive the bike and run courses.
Bike- We’d already seen the first 21 miles of the bike on the way into Saint George, so this time we went right for the loop. To me, the loop had 4 parts. 1: through suburbs on decent streets. 2: on worn highway with lots of tar lines patching the cracks, slight uphill. 3: very bumpy chip seal, gradually more uphill with 3 significant hills – two short and steep, one long (1.5 mile) grind. 4: on smooth highway, nice downhill back to town. From the car, it looked very doable. A good challenging ride, no problem. I’ve done long rides with similar hills. I felt like I’d be able to pace this well and have a good run. I thought that my training could equal a 7:15 or 7:30 bike. I’ve only done 4 weeks of bike training (not including 2 taper weeks), averaging 115 miles per week, so I didn’t expect to go fast.
Run- Wow, this looked challenging. It looked like an ultrarun course – except on road, after a 2.4 mi swim, and a 112 mi bike. Nothing but hills (and great scenery). I remember saying that I almost wish I hadn’t seen the run course, as it looked so hilly and hard that I was thinking about how easy I was going to have to take the bike. Sherpa Steve went out and ran it for fun. I believe his words were: “That run course is someone’s idea of a cruel joke.” He said it with a devilish smile.
I couldn’t help but get excited though, as the race got closer. A hard run course just means that all the ultrarunning I’d been doing would really help keep my head in the right place. Plus, I had Go-Go Green toenail polish on, and Lickety split lime fingernail polish. I was pretty unstoppable!
Friday, after a short bike that confounded my ability to calibrate my powermeter – AGAIN
(%*^&*#$^&*#$) – I strapped on my wireless bike computer instead. We hauled our bikes and T1 bags out to Sand Hollow reservoir. DP nonchalantly suggested we skip the swim – “we don’t HAVE to swim in 58 deg water, really.” But, being the stubborn person I am, I think my response was something on the order of – “you don’t have to swim, but I’m going to. I’m heading down now.” Bones concurred, and DP followed all of us down. Ken and Kurt are there, having just finished their swim – they report on the chop we can see, and the cold that we can only imagine. Once in the wetsuit, I’m anxious to get in the water. I leave my fellow Outlaws behind, wade in, and take the plunge. It’s not bad. Of course, I have a legendary tolerance for cold. I swim easily to the first buoy, turn in to the chop and breaststroke to the next buoy to avoid swallowing each and every wave. Not a problem. In fact, smoother than I thought considering I haven’t swum in 2 weeks. Changing back into dry clothes was less smooth, involving a straight-jacket and full moon, but soon we were back at the house and prepping for guests!
Some Outlaws and Outlaw friends were staying at hotels, so we invited them over for grilled chicken and pork chops (done by Flamin’ Mo myself!) spaghetti by Lorna, Kurt and Ken brought salad, Paul da pilot brought fruit, and we had pie from the Veyo Pie Shop for desert. Excellent pie- I recommend the Veyo Volcano. And the mountain berry. And the boysenberry. Heck, it’s all good. The conversation must have been horribly dull for anyone not racing. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
8:30=Ambien time, and I’m off to bed. Race morning goes smoothly for me, but DP’s stomach was refusing to cooperate. I press her to take some Tums. We get to the buses a little later than planned.
Hugs with SWTrigal and Lorna, and we’re off to the reservoir in the dark. I’m calm, but excited, not too nervous. I check my tires, get through the port-a-potty line, and get into my wetsuit. I see Ken, and he’s all smiles. DP, however, is still waiting in the port-a-potty line. And waiting, and waiting. She looks like a deer in headlights, and asks me to find Michi and borrow some silicone earplugs as she doesn’t have any, and they prevent her from getting cold and dizzy in the water. I wander the whole transition area, but do not find her in the chaos. Ten minutes to race start, DP finally makes it to the change tent and starts to don her suit. I decide that although I am getting VERY VERY NERVOUS about making the start, that I want to stay with DP and get her there too. She begs me to find her some earplugs, so I ask the change tent if anyone has some spare silicone – and I luck out. A very nice racer splits her wad of silicone, and gives one half to me to give to DP. Two minutes to the start, and we start walking down on the rocky pavement. Hurry! Ouch. Hurry! Ouch. My feet don’t hit the water (where other athletes are 50 yds out treading water) before the gun goes off. (On the plus side, this meant I had a great view of the line of thrashing at the start line, and the start of the great washing machine that is the ironman swim.)
No warm up, and I can tell I am tight and anxious – not the way I planned it. So now it’s time to think about relaxing, long smooth strokes, and hopefully finding some feet. The first section seems to go so quickly. I found some good feet, but then lost them at the turn. I never found another pair that could sight or swim straight. I had put Aquaphor around my nose and on my lips, and this made my goggles leak a little. (Doh.) The next turn comes quickly, but the last turn buoy, at the end of a 1600 yd straight-away takes forever. I lose focus. I dawdle. I got hit and swam over, I got kicked in the chest by someone doing breast stroke. My shoulder starts hurting – like a rotator cuff hurt. Finally the last turn, and I think I recovered and swam a bit faster to get out of the water. 1:30:13 – ok, that was my estimate, so fine. I got what I deserved for only swimming 9 times before the IM (wow, I didn’t realize it was that bad). I struggle to get my wetsuit sleeves down, a volunteer has to help, then through the strippers to my bag. A volunteer hands it to me, but there’s no one to help me with my stuff. Keeping the sports bra and tri shorts on the whole time worked very well, but I still struggled a long time to get my bike jersey on. 9 minutes later, I’m out on my bike, munching on Fritos.
My bike went ok. I settled in during that first 21 miles to the start of the loop. The cover to my aero drink holder managed to slip out of my fingers on this section. (farfagnugen!) The cover is a flexible gel that has a slit in it, so that water from a squeeze bottle can be added to the aerobottle while riding. Without it, there’s a big gaping hole on the top of the aerobottle, so I spent the next half an hour getting splashed with water as I went over bumps. I finally finished the Fritos in my ziplock bag, which provided the solution. I tore off a part of the bag, and unscrewed the o-ring that used to hold the cover to the bottle, put the plastic over the bottle, and screwed the o-ring back on. Then I carefully poked a small hole through the plastic. Ta-Da! All fixed.
The surprise on the bike for me was how slow the chip seal section was. In aero position, it felt like my shoulders were resting on a vibrator. Not pleasant, either. Glances at my bike computer showed agonizingly slow speeds. Oh boy. “There’s a second loop… No. One thing at a time. Finish the first loop.” The three hills I had noticed in the car were harder than I expected. The gradual climbing on this chipseal was harder, too. Finally I hit the “Veyo wall” the long 1.5 mile hill, and spun up it in my 11-28. No problem. I grabbed my next bag of Fritos at special needs, and stood there drinking my mini coke for a minute. The subsequent downhill was fun, reaching speeds close to 50 mph. Wahoo! I love downhills, and was surprised to find that this felt like maybe a little too much. I had to remind myself to relax, trust my bike, and not use the brakes. Very quickly, I was on the start of the second loop where I saw our support crew cheering me on.
The second loop wasn’t as bad as I feared – I had no desire to quit, I just wanted to get to the run. It was, however, slower than the first. I lost focus and noodled along. I chatted with a few people that I had been riding near the whole time. I have to say, I didn’t see any drafting around me. People were being very good. I stopped for sunscreen at potty stop #3 (ugh, this takes forever) so with special needs I stopped 4 times. Too much! Getting to the Veyo wall again, I was near a guy in yellow who told me he wasn’t going to stay near me much longer, as he was going to have to walk. Walk? Up the hill? On the first lap, I saw 2-3 people walking. On the second lap, I was the only person I saw who rode up. Thank you 11-28. The second downhill was just as fun as the first. I was much more relaxed, even though we now had to deal with some cross winds. I was speeding down, holding a steady line moving out only to pass. Until at a change in the pavement, a girl in front of me, riding her brakes, swerved sharply left directly in front of me crossing the whole available lane. She didn’t look behind her, and was swerving to avoid a small rough patch (it was ride-able – I know, I rode over it on lap 1). I was closing fast, and as she started to swerve, I yelled – “NO – STAY RIGHT, STAY RIGHT!” I was so sure I was going to either take us both out or swerve in to the traffic lane and sacrifice myself. She pulled back to the right just in time. I had to take a few deep breaths before I could unclench my death grip on my aerobars. Too close. I saw our cheering section again (hi guys!!!) and went around the no-pass loop, to face a last unexpected hill. (oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.) Then, finally, thankfully, into transition at 7:52 for the bike. I had a volunteer (Cheryl) help me here, and she was wonderful. After changing shirts and socks, I was digging through my bag looking for my mini coke… and it WASN’T THERE. “awww.. dangit.”
Volunteer: “what are you looking for, honey?”
Me: “my coke... I guess I didn’t put it in here.”
Volunteer: “I can get you one, what kind do you want?”
Me - eyes wide in disbelief: “YOU ROCK!!! A regular coke. WOW. THANKS!”
And then in celebration, I sat there and drank half of it. My transition time reflected this, at 11 minutes. But, after a 7:52 bike, what did it matter? I probably wouldn’t finish the race under 15 hours at this point, what difference does a few minutes make?
I carried my bag of Fritos (which I hadn’t finished on the bike) and my coke out of T2, and walked quickly along. The crowd soon started smiling at this triathlete grinning from ear to ear with a coke in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “How’s your lunch?” one asks. “mmmmm. It’s just a little snack,” I say. Lorna got a pic:
She said I was walking much better than Bones or Paul when they came out. I was so happy to be off the bike and starting the run, but the first order of business was to finish that coke. Mmmmm. *burp*
Once on Diagonal St. I started running, and didn’t look back. It felt great to run. I ran all but a few of the hills, and walked the aid stations. I kept myself cool with sponges and my arm coolers, enjoyed the view, thanked the volunteers, cheered on my fellow athletes. There was a live band near the park we went around at mile 5 that was pretty good. I passed Paul da pilot at the first aid station – he was starting his second loop. After mile 2 I saw the other Paul. Then trotting down a hill, I saw Bones and Kurt running together. Kurt looked amazing – I was so glad to see him running, and it was so cool of Bones to keep him company. We exchanged hugs – they told me to come get them, and we headed off in opposite directions. I reminded myself not to push the first out and back, to save a little. Soon, Ken comes running towards me, looking like he’s just out for a quick run.
This is fantastic. We run right up against red rock bluffs, overlooking all of St. George. You could hear Mike Reilly calling people in across the finish line at the farthest point out on the bluff. They’ve closed the road, so we have it all to ourselves. The volunteers are cheering at every point, and locals have come out to sit on the side and cheer loudly. The aid stations are clean and organized – no cups on the ground, all in the trash cans, and athletes seem to be trying their best not to litter. I took two gels, at mile 6 and mile 19, otherwise sticking to water, a few grapes, and a few sips of coke. The course rolls, and is interesting enough that I keep going to find out what’s around the next corner. On the way back I spot DP – she’s smiling and running – uphill! Gooooooo Pirate! It’s easy to be in a good mood out here. Not too hot, I’m passing people left and right. My stomach starts feeling a little sour, so at special needs I take some Tums powder, and that fixes it. *poof!* The second loop comes, and I can tell that I’m not going to have any serious problems. I do stop twice at port-a-potties, but I keep right on trucking. The glow stick man attempts to hand me a pink glow necklace “pink for the lady” he says, to which I say, “no pink! Please anything but pink!” I pass all my friends and they all appear to be doing great. Night falls just after mile 20 as I’m on the last leg back into town and the start line. The run was satisfying – after such a hard bike, to run the marathon (except for the steep hills) brought home a little bit how far my running has come. The volunteers cheer me through the darkness, I’m one of the few people running after mile 20, and I still have spring in my step and a smile on my face. I round the corner and see the finish two blocks away. The crowds are literally pressed against the sides of the chute, yelling and banging on the chute. The loudness surrounds you in a cave of sound. They hold out their hands, and I run down the chute giving high fives with Mike Reilly shouting out over the loudspeaker, “Margaret Welk, you are an Ironman!”
At the line, I jump into the air. Yes!
The drive out (Wed): wind gusts of 60-70 mph (some reported 99) and sandstorms as bad for visibility as any snowstorm I’d ever been in. I drove out alone, after Co stayed home to take care of our dog who came up lame the Sunday before we were to leave. After 10 hours of singing along to my i-pod, I was ready to be there, but instead I took the long route to Saint George Utah, going through Zion National Park. Imposing red rock formations sculpted by the wind and water to resemble intertwined muscle fibers, or checkerboards, or smooth banded surfaces waited around every corner. I couldn’t wait to get back to check it all out properly.
The house: large enough for the 10 of us (8 adults, two kids) with a strange assortment and layout of rooms and addons. The renter was uncommunicative and had me a little paranoid that he had run off with our money 2 weeks before the race – that’s a whole other story. But at $25/night per person, we weren’t complaining. And 3 blocks from T2 and the finish line meant we wouldn’t need to ferry athletes, gear, and bikes by car. Fabulous!
Dinner at twentyfive main café was a yummy “two fifteen” panini, quick, and perfect and we got to see the finish line and T2 being set up on our walk there. (oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!)
Course Recon: On Thursday, we dropped off gear, saw the expo, and got tattooed with our race numbers.
Deciding to save the swim for Friday, we grabbed lunch at the house, then went to drive the bike and run courses.
Bike- We’d already seen the first 21 miles of the bike on the way into Saint George, so this time we went right for the loop. To me, the loop had 4 parts. 1: through suburbs on decent streets. 2: on worn highway with lots of tar lines patching the cracks, slight uphill. 3: very bumpy chip seal, gradually more uphill with 3 significant hills – two short and steep, one long (1.5 mile) grind. 4: on smooth highway, nice downhill back to town. From the car, it looked very doable. A good challenging ride, no problem. I’ve done long rides with similar hills. I felt like I’d be able to pace this well and have a good run. I thought that my training could equal a 7:15 or 7:30 bike. I’ve only done 4 weeks of bike training (not including 2 taper weeks), averaging 115 miles per week, so I didn’t expect to go fast.
Run- Wow, this looked challenging. It looked like an ultrarun course – except on road, after a 2.4 mi swim, and a 112 mi bike. Nothing but hills (and great scenery). I remember saying that I almost wish I hadn’t seen the run course, as it looked so hilly and hard that I was thinking about how easy I was going to have to take the bike. Sherpa Steve went out and ran it for fun. I believe his words were: “That run course is someone’s idea of a cruel joke.” He said it with a devilish smile.
I couldn’t help but get excited though, as the race got closer. A hard run course just means that all the ultrarunning I’d been doing would really help keep my head in the right place. Plus, I had Go-Go Green toenail polish on, and Lickety split lime fingernail polish. I was pretty unstoppable!
Friday, after a short bike that confounded my ability to calibrate my powermeter – AGAIN
(%*^&*#$^&*#$) – I strapped on my wireless bike computer instead. We hauled our bikes and T1 bags out to Sand Hollow reservoir. DP nonchalantly suggested we skip the swim – “we don’t HAVE to swim in 58 deg water, really.” But, being the stubborn person I am, I think my response was something on the order of – “you don’t have to swim, but I’m going to. I’m heading down now.” Bones concurred, and DP followed all of us down. Ken and Kurt are there, having just finished their swim – they report on the chop we can see, and the cold that we can only imagine. Once in the wetsuit, I’m anxious to get in the water. I leave my fellow Outlaws behind, wade in, and take the plunge. It’s not bad. Of course, I have a legendary tolerance for cold. I swim easily to the first buoy, turn in to the chop and breaststroke to the next buoy to avoid swallowing each and every wave. Not a problem. In fact, smoother than I thought considering I haven’t swum in 2 weeks. Changing back into dry clothes was less smooth, involving a straight-jacket and full moon, but soon we were back at the house and prepping for guests!
Some Outlaws and Outlaw friends were staying at hotels, so we invited them over for grilled chicken and pork chops (done by Flamin’ Mo myself!) spaghetti by Lorna, Kurt and Ken brought salad, Paul da pilot brought fruit, and we had pie from the Veyo Pie Shop for desert. Excellent pie- I recommend the Veyo Volcano. And the mountain berry. And the boysenberry. Heck, it’s all good. The conversation must have been horribly dull for anyone not racing. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
8:30=Ambien time, and I’m off to bed. Race morning goes smoothly for me, but DP’s stomach was refusing to cooperate. I press her to take some Tums. We get to the buses a little later than planned.
Hugs with SWTrigal and Lorna, and we’re off to the reservoir in the dark. I’m calm, but excited, not too nervous. I check my tires, get through the port-a-potty line, and get into my wetsuit. I see Ken, and he’s all smiles. DP, however, is still waiting in the port-a-potty line. And waiting, and waiting. She looks like a deer in headlights, and asks me to find Michi and borrow some silicone earplugs as she doesn’t have any, and they prevent her from getting cold and dizzy in the water. I wander the whole transition area, but do not find her in the chaos. Ten minutes to race start, DP finally makes it to the change tent and starts to don her suit. I decide that although I am getting VERY VERY NERVOUS about making the start, that I want to stay with DP and get her there too. She begs me to find her some earplugs, so I ask the change tent if anyone has some spare silicone – and I luck out. A very nice racer splits her wad of silicone, and gives one half to me to give to DP. Two minutes to the start, and we start walking down on the rocky pavement. Hurry! Ouch. Hurry! Ouch. My feet don’t hit the water (where other athletes are 50 yds out treading water) before the gun goes off. (On the plus side, this meant I had a great view of the line of thrashing at the start line, and the start of the great washing machine that is the ironman swim.)
No warm up, and I can tell I am tight and anxious – not the way I planned it. So now it’s time to think about relaxing, long smooth strokes, and hopefully finding some feet. The first section seems to go so quickly. I found some good feet, but then lost them at the turn. I never found another pair that could sight or swim straight. I had put Aquaphor around my nose and on my lips, and this made my goggles leak a little. (Doh.) The next turn comes quickly, but the last turn buoy, at the end of a 1600 yd straight-away takes forever. I lose focus. I dawdle. I got hit and swam over, I got kicked in the chest by someone doing breast stroke. My shoulder starts hurting – like a rotator cuff hurt. Finally the last turn, and I think I recovered and swam a bit faster to get out of the water. 1:30:13 – ok, that was my estimate, so fine. I got what I deserved for only swimming 9 times before the IM (wow, I didn’t realize it was that bad). I struggle to get my wetsuit sleeves down, a volunteer has to help, then through the strippers to my bag. A volunteer hands it to me, but there’s no one to help me with my stuff. Keeping the sports bra and tri shorts on the whole time worked very well, but I still struggled a long time to get my bike jersey on. 9 minutes later, I’m out on my bike, munching on Fritos.
My bike went ok. I settled in during that first 21 miles to the start of the loop. The cover to my aero drink holder managed to slip out of my fingers on this section. (farfagnugen!) The cover is a flexible gel that has a slit in it, so that water from a squeeze bottle can be added to the aerobottle while riding. Without it, there’s a big gaping hole on the top of the aerobottle, so I spent the next half an hour getting splashed with water as I went over bumps. I finally finished the Fritos in my ziplock bag, which provided the solution. I tore off a part of the bag, and unscrewed the o-ring that used to hold the cover to the bottle, put the plastic over the bottle, and screwed the o-ring back on. Then I carefully poked a small hole through the plastic. Ta-Da! All fixed.
The surprise on the bike for me was how slow the chip seal section was. In aero position, it felt like my shoulders were resting on a vibrator. Not pleasant, either. Glances at my bike computer showed agonizingly slow speeds. Oh boy. “There’s a second loop… No. One thing at a time. Finish the first loop.” The three hills I had noticed in the car were harder than I expected. The gradual climbing on this chipseal was harder, too. Finally I hit the “Veyo wall” the long 1.5 mile hill, and spun up it in my 11-28. No problem. I grabbed my next bag of Fritos at special needs, and stood there drinking my mini coke for a minute. The subsequent downhill was fun, reaching speeds close to 50 mph. Wahoo! I love downhills, and was surprised to find that this felt like maybe a little too much. I had to remind myself to relax, trust my bike, and not use the brakes. Very quickly, I was on the start of the second loop where I saw our support crew cheering me on.
The second loop wasn’t as bad as I feared – I had no desire to quit, I just wanted to get to the run. It was, however, slower than the first. I lost focus and noodled along. I chatted with a few people that I had been riding near the whole time. I have to say, I didn’t see any drafting around me. People were being very good. I stopped for sunscreen at potty stop #3 (ugh, this takes forever) so with special needs I stopped 4 times. Too much! Getting to the Veyo wall again, I was near a guy in yellow who told me he wasn’t going to stay near me much longer, as he was going to have to walk. Walk? Up the hill? On the first lap, I saw 2-3 people walking. On the second lap, I was the only person I saw who rode up. Thank you 11-28. The second downhill was just as fun as the first. I was much more relaxed, even though we now had to deal with some cross winds. I was speeding down, holding a steady line moving out only to pass. Until at a change in the pavement, a girl in front of me, riding her brakes, swerved sharply left directly in front of me crossing the whole available lane. She didn’t look behind her, and was swerving to avoid a small rough patch (it was ride-able – I know, I rode over it on lap 1). I was closing fast, and as she started to swerve, I yelled – “NO – STAY RIGHT, STAY RIGHT!” I was so sure I was going to either take us both out or swerve in to the traffic lane and sacrifice myself. She pulled back to the right just in time. I had to take a few deep breaths before I could unclench my death grip on my aerobars. Too close. I saw our cheering section again (hi guys!!!) and went around the no-pass loop, to face a last unexpected hill. (oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.) Then, finally, thankfully, into transition at 7:52 for the bike. I had a volunteer (Cheryl) help me here, and she was wonderful. After changing shirts and socks, I was digging through my bag looking for my mini coke… and it WASN’T THERE. “awww.. dangit.”
Volunteer: “what are you looking for, honey?”
Me: “my coke... I guess I didn’t put it in here.”
Volunteer: “I can get you one, what kind do you want?”
Me - eyes wide in disbelief: “YOU ROCK!!! A regular coke. WOW. THANKS!”
And then in celebration, I sat there and drank half of it. My transition time reflected this, at 11 minutes. But, after a 7:52 bike, what did it matter? I probably wouldn’t finish the race under 15 hours at this point, what difference does a few minutes make?
I carried my bag of Fritos (which I hadn’t finished on the bike) and my coke out of T2, and walked quickly along. The crowd soon started smiling at this triathlete grinning from ear to ear with a coke in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “How’s your lunch?” one asks. “mmmmm. It’s just a little snack,” I say. Lorna got a pic:
She said I was walking much better than Bones or Paul when they came out. I was so happy to be off the bike and starting the run, but the first order of business was to finish that coke. Mmmmm. *burp*
Once on Diagonal St. I started running, and didn’t look back. It felt great to run. I ran all but a few of the hills, and walked the aid stations. I kept myself cool with sponges and my arm coolers, enjoyed the view, thanked the volunteers, cheered on my fellow athletes. There was a live band near the park we went around at mile 5 that was pretty good. I passed Paul da pilot at the first aid station – he was starting his second loop. After mile 2 I saw the other Paul. Then trotting down a hill, I saw Bones and Kurt running together. Kurt looked amazing – I was so glad to see him running, and it was so cool of Bones to keep him company. We exchanged hugs – they told me to come get them, and we headed off in opposite directions. I reminded myself not to push the first out and back, to save a little. Soon, Ken comes running towards me, looking like he’s just out for a quick run.
This is fantastic. We run right up against red rock bluffs, overlooking all of St. George. You could hear Mike Reilly calling people in across the finish line at the farthest point out on the bluff. They’ve closed the road, so we have it all to ourselves. The volunteers are cheering at every point, and locals have come out to sit on the side and cheer loudly. The aid stations are clean and organized – no cups on the ground, all in the trash cans, and athletes seem to be trying their best not to litter. I took two gels, at mile 6 and mile 19, otherwise sticking to water, a few grapes, and a few sips of coke. The course rolls, and is interesting enough that I keep going to find out what’s around the next corner. On the way back I spot DP – she’s smiling and running – uphill! Gooooooo Pirate! It’s easy to be in a good mood out here. Not too hot, I’m passing people left and right. My stomach starts feeling a little sour, so at special needs I take some Tums powder, and that fixes it. *poof!* The second loop comes, and I can tell that I’m not going to have any serious problems. I do stop twice at port-a-potties, but I keep right on trucking. The glow stick man attempts to hand me a pink glow necklace “pink for the lady” he says, to which I say, “no pink! Please anything but pink!” I pass all my friends and they all appear to be doing great. Night falls just after mile 20 as I’m on the last leg back into town and the start line. The run was satisfying – after such a hard bike, to run the marathon (except for the steep hills) brought home a little bit how far my running has come. The volunteers cheer me through the darkness, I’m one of the few people running after mile 20, and I still have spring in my step and a smile on my face. I round the corner and see the finish two blocks away. The crowds are literally pressed against the sides of the chute, yelling and banging on the chute. The loudness surrounds you in a cave of sound. They hold out their hands, and I run down the chute giving high fives with Mike Reilly shouting out over the loudspeaker, “Margaret Welk, you are an Ironman!”
At the line, I jump into the air. Yes!
Friday, April 23, 2010
IronHappy
I’m about to head out to St. George Utah for that ironman thing. There’s a lot going on. Work is incredibly nutso right now with multiple deadlines, inspections, and project leadership changes. IM friends seem to be freaking out left and right. About the bike course (hilly) the run course (hilly) and oh yeah, the swim in currently 58 deg water. It might rain. It’ll probably be windy.
To which I say, whateva. The harder the conditions, the less pressure there is. Sure my first and only IM I finished in 13:15. It was flat, and the swim was with the tide = super fast. So there is no sense thinking about bettering that time. A WAG gets me a 1:30 swim, a 7:15 bike, and a 5:15 run for 14 hours. A little over with transitions, more if something goes awry. That’s a long day – but the course is GORGEOUS!
I’ve never been to Utah, so even if I was just vacationing and not racing, I’d be spending all day outside anyway. Plus, the run is an out and back course that we do twice, so I’ll get to see everyone I know multiple times. It’ll be really motivating to see them as I run along. Our house is 3 blocks from the finish. And in close proximity to the bike and run courses, so spouses can spectate.
Bottom line – I’m excited!
The best parts about IM training is the Sudden Onset of Perceived Invincibility (SOPI) and the distillation of life down to just a few things.
SOPI – it’s awesome. All at once, for me somewhere about 4 weeks before the IM, I turn a corner in training, and nothing seems out of reach. Long run? No problem. ½ IM – easy. Multiple climbs up Tramway, Placitas, or Armoury hill? Piece of cake. Ride into the wind? Through the rain? In a snowstorm? Ask me to do anything – sure, I can do that. It’s a warm happy place to be, when everything I’ve set out for myself seems completely doable and within my reach. All I need to do is head out the door each day.
Which brings me to favorite thing #2: Ironways are messy. But after a month of training, all the urgent small stuff that crops up everyday suddenly becomes easy to ignore. My focus gets narrower. Sure, I see that my garden could use weeding. But it can wait. In the midst of training, only the important things and the training gets done. Everything else is urgent, but expendable. I can’t think of many other times when I’ve had that freedom to focus. Writing up and defending my dissertation. Hmmm. That’s it. It may not be pretty, but the distillation of life really brings into stark focus what your priorities are, and what kind of choices you make. Every day.
And, best of all, I can't wait for more Leadville training. Wahoooooo!
To which I say, whateva. The harder the conditions, the less pressure there is. Sure my first and only IM I finished in 13:15. It was flat, and the swim was with the tide = super fast. So there is no sense thinking about bettering that time. A WAG gets me a 1:30 swim, a 7:15 bike, and a 5:15 run for 14 hours. A little over with transitions, more if something goes awry. That’s a long day – but the course is GORGEOUS!
I’ve never been to Utah, so even if I was just vacationing and not racing, I’d be spending all day outside anyway. Plus, the run is an out and back course that we do twice, so I’ll get to see everyone I know multiple times. It’ll be really motivating to see them as I run along. Our house is 3 blocks from the finish. And in close proximity to the bike and run courses, so spouses can spectate.
Bottom line – I’m excited!
The best parts about IM training is the Sudden Onset of Perceived Invincibility (SOPI) and the distillation of life down to just a few things.
SOPI – it’s awesome. All at once, for me somewhere about 4 weeks before the IM, I turn a corner in training, and nothing seems out of reach. Long run? No problem. ½ IM – easy. Multiple climbs up Tramway, Placitas, or Armoury hill? Piece of cake. Ride into the wind? Through the rain? In a snowstorm? Ask me to do anything – sure, I can do that. It’s a warm happy place to be, when everything I’ve set out for myself seems completely doable and within my reach. All I need to do is head out the door each day.
Which brings me to favorite thing #2: Ironways are messy. But after a month of training, all the urgent small stuff that crops up everyday suddenly becomes easy to ignore. My focus gets narrower. Sure, I see that my garden could use weeding. But it can wait. In the midst of training, only the important things and the training gets done. Everything else is urgent, but expendable. I can’t think of many other times when I’ve had that freedom to focus. Writing up and defending my dissertation. Hmmm. That’s it. It may not be pretty, but the distillation of life really brings into stark focus what your priorities are, and what kind of choices you make. Every day.
And, best of all, I can't wait for more Leadville training. Wahoooooo!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Signing up for Leadville - the musical
It's a twisted little bee droning about in my head. Sometimes close at hand, and I can't hear anything else, and sometimes blending into the background. At some point several months ago I was driven to rewrite lyrics to this song:
SIGNING UP FOR LEADVILLE
You gotta help me out-
It’s all a blur that night-
Was there a napkin?
A yellow napkin
That I signed?
Kurt does an ironman tri
I kiss sanity goodbye
Spare me your freakin’
Long complaints about the pool
I want to hide out
Or get the hell out of town
Can’t be so gutless,
Remember what you told me-
Lace up your shoes
Get out on that trail now
That’s what you get for signing up for Leadville
Wake up before
The butt crack of dawn now
That’s what you get for signing up for Leadville
Why are my legs so tired?
At this rate I might get fired
I need a nap now
When is the next training run?
Don’t tell my mother
Cuz she’ll probably cry.
Can’t be a baby
Remember what you told me-
(chorus)
You got me into this
Convincing me I can
Telling me it’s not that bad
Send out an SOS
Refill my water
And get my butt on the trail
I’m not a baby,
Remember what you told me….
(chorus)
SIGNING UP FOR LEADVILLE
You gotta help me out-
It’s all a blur that night-
Was there a napkin?
A yellow napkin
That I signed?
Kurt does an ironman tri
I kiss sanity goodbye
Spare me your freakin’
Long complaints about the pool
I want to hide out
Or get the hell out of town
Can’t be so gutless,
Remember what you told me-
Lace up your shoes
Get out on that trail now
That’s what you get for signing up for Leadville
Wake up before
The butt crack of dawn now
That’s what you get for signing up for Leadville
Why are my legs so tired?
At this rate I might get fired
I need a nap now
When is the next training run?
Don’t tell my mother
Cuz she’ll probably cry.
Can’t be a baby
Remember what you told me-
(chorus)
You got me into this
Convincing me I can
Telling me it’s not that bad
Send out an SOS
Refill my water
And get my butt on the trail
I’m not a baby,
Remember what you told me….
(chorus)
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