My First Real Fall

I've been riding a road bike since 2003. The only time I've ever fallen was in the very beginning, when learning how to use clipless pedals. Those falls happened embarrassingly at stop lights, invariably with lots of people watching. After 3 or times of falling, I learned how to use clipless pedals with nothing but a bruised ego. I kept pedaling.

I'm not a super fast or strong cyclist. I admit--I got into cycling for triathlon. But I enjoy exploring the  countryside, and I love the workout. Whether it's a tri, road, or mountain bike, I love spinning my legs on days they need to rest from the run. Lately, I've felt ready to start challenging myself with some more hills. I'd heard about the hills in the area and decided to tackle Old La Honda Rd.

I took off after school on Pandora, my quick road bike. I headed up Sand Hill Road, which became Portola Valley Road. I spun my legs as the road gradually began rising upwards. Eventually, I turned right on Old La Honda Road. 4 miles up with switchbacks. I loved the cool trees and tall, dark redwoods. The temperature dropped and my ears popped. In some places, the pavement was so steep, I had to rise out of the saddle, throw my weight forward, and pedal rhythmically (mountain-bike style) to make it over the steepest part of the switchbacks. The challenge was real, but my fitness was there. I felt great. Then, the 4-miles was over.

I turned left on Skyline Blvd towards Page Mill Road. I passed Windy Hill, Coal Creek, Russian Ridge, and many other trails that need to be explored. Although cars zipped by on Skyline, the road was wide, and there was plenty of room. To the right, I could see the clouds hugging the horizon above the blue ocean. To the left, in the distance, I could see a glimpse of the Bay. A spectacular view.

I turned left at Page Mill Road. For the first 2 miles, I was still going uphill. It wasn't steep, but I had thought I would be enjoying a descent by now. Was this some sort of cruel joke. In my experience (and knowledge of physics), what goes up, must come down, especially when riding a loop, right?

Then, the descent began. My tired legs and butt enjoyed the break. I rose up out of the saddle and leaned into the drops, letting the bike hug the turns. I focused on moving the inside pedal up so as not to scrape the pavement. Scenic views of fields, trails, and oak groves lined the road. Hawks lazily swooped to the tops of trees. I felt relaxed and happy. I hadn't zipped down hills like this in a long time.

The descents became steeper and windier. I shifted my weight back and used the rear break more, slowing down before the turn. The slope eased, and I dropped forward and let the bike speed up again. A right-hand turn. I'm much more confident in right turns, being right-handed. I leaned into the turn to increase speed. The pavement was slick. It had just been repaved. I squeezed the back break as I leaned in the steepest part of the curve. It felt like the road had suddenly dropped out from under me. As if in a bad dream, Pandora fell away from me. I collided with the pavement beginning with my right thigh, hip, elbow, shoulder and right hand. My computer had read 24 mph just before I'd gone down. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to react. All I could think as the bike fell away from under me was, "Uh oh. This is going to be bad."

After I had slid to a stop, the first thing I could think of was, "Get out of the road." I pulled Pandora and myself off to the side of the road to catch my breath. Then, I realized I was on the narrowest part of the curve, and therefore, the most hidden. I looked around me and scrambled to the opposite side of the road on the shoulder. I sat in the dust. The bike seemed okay. I didn't seem to have hit my head or broken anything. My right hip was on fire, and I was dazed but miraculously okay. I was still 10 miles from the car on a remote road with little traffic. If I wanted help, I would have to wait at least 30 minutes. I knew I would get cold and potentially go into shock. Without thinking too much about it, I decided to see how it felt to ride the bike slowly, especially since most of the 10 miles was downhill (I had done all the hard, uphill work already).

I didn't have to pedal much at first. The road wound downhill like a spiral roller coaster. I breaker and shifted my weight back. I went very slowly. I started to feel shaky and I could't stop my feet from quivering violently against the bike frame. I focused on taking deep breaths and pedaled slowly. My hip screamed and my elbow hurt. The handlebars felt slick with sweat. I looked down. The right side was dripping with blood from my right hand. My knuckles had also kissed the road.

The slow pedaling helped move the warmth of my blood back into my extremities. I relaxed and stopped shaking. I became thirsty and drank lots of water. Somehow, the more I pedaled, the better I felt. I was exhausted but exhilarated when I made it back to the car. I was so relieved. I was alive. I hadn't broken anything. It could have been so much worse.

Right elbow, immediately after the fall. 

48 hours later.

Sandman Triathlon Race Report

I hadn't done a triathlon in 7 years. After changing jobs, life and laziness got in the way. I always felt like a part of me had died. I didn't intend to become flabby and out-of-shape. It just happened. Then, in May, I started working out regularly again. In July, I noticed my fitness had increased. I decided to get my mojo back. Afterall, I'm turning 40 in October, and it's kind of freaking me out. So I signed up for a couple of races, including the Sandman Sprint Triathlon, August 20th, 2017.

School started on Wednesday, August 17th 2017. I'm a high school biology and chemistry teacher. My head began to spin with the daily onslaught of activities that regularly boggle my mind--part of the job requirement. I began to think racing the first weekend of school was a bad idea. However, I'm also motivated to continue training while teaching this year. Balancing both seems like an essential plan for my long-term health.

Wednesday night, I spent 2 hours gluing on new tubular tires to my race wheels, which had been hanging in my garage for 7 years. I tried them out on Thursday. The brake pads rubbed and the gears slipped. I didn't have time for a tune-up. What had I gotten myself into? I knew my training was solid but familiar race nerves crawled up my throat. Why was I doing this to myself? Waking up early, plunging into a freezing-cold ocean, and pushing myself to the point of almost puking did not seem like a good way to spend a weekend.

Sunday morning, I woke up at 5:30 am, plenty of time before my 8:05 am start. Eating breakfast was the worst part of my whole day. This activity basically involved staring loathingly at small pieces of a cereal bar for 5 minutes before forcing a small chunk down my throat. It took 30 minutes to eat a banana and half a cereal bar. I simply couldn't get down any more.

Once I got to the race site, I calmed down immensely. Everything felt familiar, and I knew what to do. There was no more stir-crazy downtime. I set up my transition area, got body-marked, made a trip to the bathroom, and slid into my wetsuit. I walked to the beach and tested the water. I had heard people say the temperature was in the 50s but my toes told me low 60s. The surface was glassy and calm. The skies were overcast and the air was cool, but mild. Conditions couldn't have been more perfect. There was nothing more I could do to prepare. I was ready.

Before I knew it, I was lining up with the women. I hopped up and down to warm up. The horn blew, and we took off through the sand and plunged into the ocean. The waves were small and easy to navigate. I found myself, as usual, to the outside of the pack on the 3/4 mile swim. I was surprised at how familiar everything felt. I was calm and enjoying my first ocean swim in over a year. The swim went by quickly; there were several turns and buoys so there was lots to think about. I couldn't believe how relaxed I felt. It was just like riding a bike (pun intended).

When I ran up into T1, I felt hot, out of breath, and disoriented. My heart rate must have been through the roof. I took my time getting onto the bike and then clipped into Torch, my old, steady race steed. We took off into the hills of Aptos. The bike was scenic but hilly. Lots of racers were on road bikes (not to self for future Sandmans). The first few miles, I tried to spin, eat some GU, and get my heart rate down. It took me about 3 miles to warm up and settle into a sustainable pace. I felt more like I was on a fun bike ride then racing. This was fine by me. After all the races I have under my belt, I just want to enjoy myself, get a good workout, have fun, and maybe make some friends when I race this time around. Goal achieved. After many ups and downs through redwood trees, horse stables, and farms, the 13-mile bike ride quickly came to an end.

When I rolled into T2, the person next to me had dropped my bike in my spot. I ended up covered in grease and blood from her rear cassette by the time I had racked her bike, and then mine. Rude! But, soon enough, I had my running shoes and cap on, and I felt surprisingly springy for the run. After all, running has always been my favorite part. Then, I hit the sand. The entire 4-mile run was on the beach (hence the name Sandman). It was a tough beach run! Between the tide coming in, seaweed, uneven sand, and people running this way and that, it was more like an obstacle course. I focused on maintaining a steady, strong pace, as opposed to speedy. I leaped over 3 logs each way. My shoes were soaked. But I loved it. Not once did I feel bored or in pain. With so many things to weave in and around, there was plenty to keep my mind occupied. The miles flew by. Before I knew it, the finish line was in sight. The last stretch before the finish line involved deep sand. I forced myself through it, giving it all I had left. I had no sprint in me, only 1 gear. But I did it--I finished strong and felt great afterwards. I high-fived the woman who had rallied with me to the finish line, and headed over for bananas and water. I'm so excited to be racing again!


As I packed up to leave, I felt calm and at peace. I'm very excited to be back and racing again. Racing ensures that I will maintain my workout/training plan. Right before I started rolling out, I heard a gasp from the spectators. I humpback whale had just breached right off the beach. I watched in amazement as a pod of humpbacks surfaced, spouted, and frolicked peacefully in the exact spot where I had swam only a few hours ago. It felt like a good omen.

First Brick

I did my first brick in 7 years today. It was amazing. Bricks make me feel like a true triathlete, following a bike immediately by a run. Not only do they get your legs used to running off the bike, but for some reason, I actually like them. I take awhile to warm up, and I've found I actually run faster off the bike than running alone. Today was no exception.

The other day, I had to slog through an awful 3 mile run. My body was feeling under the weather, and I couldn't muster the strength to move my legs. My body felt like lead, and my stomach sloshed around nauseously. It felt very hot, even though the weather was a breezy 73 degrees (thanks Bay Area for perfect weather!). I wanted to quit. I wanted to beat myself up for running so slowly. But I made my mind go blank and just focused on getting it done. Not every workout is going to be stellar. What's important is that I still do them and not give up. Those tough, crappy workouts are the ones that will make me stronger on race day.

I was happy I pushed through. I took the next day off and have rebounded since. Today, I did a 21 mile bike, followed by a 3-mile run. I felt strong and fast. My average bike pace has increased by 2 mph since I've started, and I'm going faster up the rolling hills. Although this is not the first time at the rodeo, it is interesting to assess the difference in training since I've lost so much fitness. The gains seem to be coming back faster this time around. It helps not being injured or overtrained (probably for the first time in my life). I feel wiser and better at listening to my body. Let's hope I can maintain this new, more patient perspective.

The bike and run today were blissful freedom from my racing mind. School starts on Wednesday, and I've been caught up in back-to-school activities. It will only get worse. My goal this year is to maintain balance and be able to juggle a demanding teaching career with my training schedule. Even though I was tired from work and my mind was racing, as I biked down the road, my legs spun my mind into blankness. My to-do list which had been on repeat in my brain suddenly paused. I did not think of the upcoming race next weekend, nor the Ironman I want to do in a year. I did not even think of the run I had to do after the bike. I thought of nothing. My legs repeatedly revolved in a rhythmic manner, and my body became a well-oiled machine, quieting my anxious mind. As my mind went numb, I reached that blissful state I can only achieve for brief periods of time when I attempt to meditate. I relished in the freedom, taking my peaceful stat of mind with me into my run.

I finished the bike, grabbed my dog, and trotted off down the road. My legs continued to rock steadily in a high cadence. I thought of nothing except the space between each footfall and watched Juneau's tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. The miles flew by. It was a wonderful workout, and I'm hoping sleep will come easily tonight.

My Annual Fall

I took my annual fall this week. It seems I fall while running once a year. I was having a very pleasant, 7-mile road run with my dog, Juneau. A construction zone appeared ahead with traffic cones, funneling traffic into a narrow lane. The shoulder was being repaved. No room or signs for pedestrians. One of the construction workers was standing on the newly paved section. After a quick assessment, I decided to run where the construction worker was standing. If he could stand there, I could surely run through there, right? However, I did not see the "trip-wire" blindly hanging about 2 inches off the ground. Juneau gracefully hopped over it as my right toe hooked underneath of the string. I flew across the pavement, Superman style, landing on my knee, stomach, elbows, and hands. I grunted, heaved myself to my feet, and dusted myself off. The workers stared at me in disbelief.
"Are you alright?" one asked.
"Yeah," I replied in annoyance. I was not happy that falling was becoming so routine that I wasn't even phased. I brushed myself off and kept running, knowing a) my injuries seemed superficial and b) all inflammation and pain wouldn't begin until 30 minutes after my run finished. Besides, I still had 2 miles to go and running would get me home faster than walking.
I'm healing nicely and my injuries did not prevent me from further workouts. In addition to the knee wound, I have poison oak scabs all over both legs from 3 different trail runs/bikes. Apparently, I'm very sensitive, which is not a good recipe for living in Northern California where poison oak is rampant. Did you know that the itching lasts for 3 weeks?

I'm slowly clawing my way back onto the exercise wagon. I feel like I've reached the first tier of fitness. I'm back in shape again. I can swim 2500 yds, bike 30 miles, and run 7 miles. I feel healthy and ready to add more miles. Now, I want to start racing again, building endurance, and see where it takes me. I have to be careful not to bite off more than I can chew and end up inured or burnt out again. However, dreams of Ironmans and ultra marathons are dancing through my head. I have a long, long way to go. It's frustrating because I can see how much I've lost. It's hard to be patient and let my body absorb the workouts. However, I do best when I just enjoy the workouts, don't push, and let my body tell me when it's ready. I'm excited to see where this takes me.