Camp Pendleton International Triathlon 2008 Race Report

http://camppendletonraces.com/tri.html

The Unintended Taper
Sometimes rest can be a good thing. A very good thing. I hadn't planned on a rest week. I had planned on a 17 mile run this weekend. Full speed ahead. But last weekend's workouts left me wasted (80 mile ride, 16.5 mile run). I had nothing, no gas left in the tank. My body demanded a recovery week. Reluctantly, I took Thursday and Friday completely off. It was an unintentional taper.

Of course, I didn't really sit around the house. I got a little stir-crazy. I hung up paintings and curtains (yea for power drills!), went on a shopping spree at Best Buy, dragged a 70 lb. tv stand upstairs, put it together, moved an even heavier old tv into the bedroom, dragged an even heavier video cabinet from the living room into the bedroom, and set up a new flat screen tv in the living room. At some point, my lower back started complaining. Loudly! I'd like to say I had all this extra energy from not working out, or that I was just feeling particularly industrious but the truth is, Brent was out of town, and I was just trying to keep myself busy. So I went a little nuts. And threw my back out. The low point was on Friday when I hooked up the new tv, and it didn't work (it's a lemon; they have to bring me a new one). Ugh! Talk about a let-down! I was so frustrated, I threatened not to do the race on Saturday at all. "That's it! I'm not doing it. My back hurts, the new tv doesn't work. I'm out." That would show them! Punish the defective tv by not racing.

Brent flew back into town and was so excited about coming out to spectate my po-dunk little race that he inflated me with enthusiasm. And my sister was coming to watch. They pumped me up a little. I cleaned up the bike, packed my stuff, changed out the race wheels, and put my sticker on the bike. I guess I was doing it now. Once you change the wheels, you're pretty much in. But I was not excited. I felt emotionally drained. However, because of the rest days, I felt fresh physically, and I knew it. I knew I would regret it if I didn't do it.

So when the alarm went off at 5 am, I dragged myself out of bed (plus, getting showered in kisses by someone who keeps saying, "Aren't you excited?!" over and over helps too; how could I not at least be a little excited?).

The Start:
As soon as I got there, I was glad I decided to show up. I had done this race 2 years in a row and loved it so much, I was back for my third. I've decided to make this my annual race every year; I love it so much. Plus, I saw tons of friends and was instantly chatting away. Afterall, what's a race if not an awesome social event? It was cool, overcast and misting, a nice reprieve from the previous 2 years of brutal heat. I decided right then and there to just go out and have fun and not care about my time at all. I took all pressure off myself and decided it was okay to be slower than my previous year's time. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Michelle, Solene, Monica and me in transition beforehand

The Swim:
Michelle came back after her warm-up swim doing the full body shiver. "Ittt's coooold!" What? In July? I dipped a toe in. Crap! It was about 65. I was thankful for my wetsuit. We waded in and jogged in place to keep warm for several minutes. I think all of us were very happy when the horn blew. Finally, we could get going and warm up!

--me, Michelle, Solene, and Monica freezing our asses off

--Tri Grrls Gone Wild!

I took off quickly, trying to stay in the pack. Generally, I'm a slow starter so beginning the swim a bit aggressively was not a bad decision for me. However, zig-zagging all over the place was (actually, it was not my decision; that's just how it went down). I tried to use the orange buoys as a line to lead me towards the big yellow one but, unfortunately, they were crooked and didn't help my swimming dyslexia. Luckily, the first 500 meters was over very quickly, and I hit the first turn buoy and dog-legged to my left.

Then, I started falling apart. There were a lot of gaps between 1 buoy and the next. Much sighting was required, which apparently, I couldn't do that day. I lost my rhythm and was a bit disgruntled when a few girls from the wave behind me zipped past, totally demoralizing me. However, they also offered a free draft and line to follow. I took it. For a few minutes at least. Until I lost it. And swam straight into a backstroker. Who kicked me square in the face and knocked my goggles off. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut in a valiant attempt to keep my contacts from popping out. I would have been blind without them. I heard the backstroker weakly apologize but I was too focused on getting my goggles back on and back into the game to respond.

Somehow, I got everything back into place and continued onwards. Found my rhythm. And finally reached the turn-around buoy. Since I couldn't trust my suddenly spaghetti arms to swim straight, I sighted more frequently, enabling me to swim the final 500 meters much more smoothly. I hit the beach and tried something new--taking my wetsuit off while sitting in ankle-deep water. Hey, it's a "C" race for me; I gotta try new stuff sometimes. Where's your sense of adventure? Anyway, I'm not sure it was any faster, and I was giggling about it with another girl in my wave who attempted the same maneuver. At least we had fun trying it!

Slightly disgruntled at my disorienting swim (after 2 years of doing this race and all my racing and swimming, you'd think I could master the swim at this race! For some reason, the CP International swim gets me EVERY time--3 years counting--swim 3; Rachel 0), I ran up onto the beach and huffed and puffed the long 1/4 mile run in sand and on pavement to the transition area. Glanced at my watch as I crossed the mats--:34. Really? Could it be true? Last year was :42 (both include the long run to transition--my watch out of the water last year read :40; this year :31). Regardless of how you look at it, that's an 8 to 9 minute improvement! Holy smokes! (And I know I could do better.)

The Bike:
Grabbed Torch with his race wheels and I, donning my Star Trek aero helmet, darted out of transition. I sprinted up the hill out of the saddle, pumping blood into my legs. I'm a slow starter so every little effort to jump start my legs is helpful. Realizing I was hungry and thirsty, I spinned for a minute or two to digest 2 Cliff Bloks and down some H20+InfinIT. Yummy. Plus the Bloks were Black Cherry=CAFFEINE! Watch out, here she comes!

--Out of T2; Torch and I aero'ed out (like the Star Trek helmet?)

It took me about 5 miles to get my bike legs. Soon, I was chasing people down. I passed a girl in my age group. She didn't like it and sped up and passed me back. Then slowed down again. Argh. I held my pace and rode side-by-side for awhile. She wouldn't budge. I pushed it slightly and pulled ahead. She sped up and passed me back. The whole time, she refused to meet my gaze, smile, not even a wink. So. It's going to be like that, eh? Didn't bother me any. I let her stony competitiveness fuel my pace a little. This is going to be grrrreat. I was salivating. We played musical bikes for awhile until I refused to waste any more energy on it. It was just the first half of the bike. Wait until the second half, I kept telling myself. She passed me again, and I let her get in front. Fine. She wants to let me draft? Whatever. That's cool with me. A few miles down the road, another girl passed me, pedaling furiously, breathing in sharp rasps. Hmmm. I wasn't breathing hard at all. Maybe I should pick up the pace?

We hit some hills, and I attacked. I broke each one into thirds--attack at the bottom, find a rhythm in the middle, and power up to the top. I used the momentum from the downhill dipping below the climb to push me to the middle, found a comfortable rhythm and allowed my breath to follow my cadence, then when I wanted to fade as the grade lessened at the top, I pushed it...hard, amping up the power, finally allowing myself to recover at a much higher speed on the flat road after the hill. It worked like a charm. I passed a TON of people (including high-cadence girl and musical chairs girl). Sure, I was redlining...gasping for air but no worries. I trusted that there was flat road or a descent up ahead, and I knew I could recover quickly.

--tearing it up on Torch

Another girl in an ugly pink tri outfit passed me on a hill and blew a snot rocket in my direction, narrowly missing me. Actually, I don't know how she didn't hit me. Thanks. Here, let me mucous all over you as I pass. Of course, that was all the encouragement I needed to zip ahead and get the hell out of Dodge. As I headed back on Vandegrift, I was hit with the familiar headwind. But in my aero helmet on my tri bike with my race wheels, I felt totally protected. And after the 30 mph winds in IMAZ, no wind has ever felt as brutal. I focused on holding my rhythm steady and blasted onward.

Zoomed into T2, quite pleased with my ride. It had been zippy and fun, and I had felt strong. Plus, my average was 19 mph (2 mph faster than last year's), which shaved 7 minutes off the bike compared to last year. Bring on the run!

The Run:
The clouds were still holding, and the weather was still blissfully cool. I didn't even need my visor or sunglasses. I couldn't believe it. I grabbed my race belt and was off. I downed a cup of water out of T2 and smiled for Brent and my sister, enthusiastically cheering me on from the sidelines. Thanks, guys!

--out of T2

I saw a guy up ahead with an IMAZ jersey on, and I picked up my pace to catch him. We started chatting.
"That was a rough day out there."
"Yeah, it was. Did you do it?"
"Yup. It was my first."
"And you finished? You should be very proud."
"It was so awesome. I can't wait until the next one!"
"When's your next one?"
"I'm trying to get into IM Canada."
"Ooh. I hear that's a good one."
At this point, a girl running with us blurts out, "You guys are crazy! I'm just trying to get to the end of this one!"
I laughed. She was right. I had become one of those people.

--negotiating the sand at the turn-around

I ran on ahead, keeping my pace in check. I wanted to negative split the 2 laps. I cheered on other people wearing Tri Club San Diego uniforms. If I didn't recognize them and they were running in my direction, I started chatting with them. "Hi, I'm Rachel. How are you?" One of my friends saw me doing this as he ran the other way and was cracking up about it later. What good is racing if you can't socialize and have a bit of fun out there?

--All smiles on the run course. Oh, right! I LOVE running!

On the 2nd lap, I let myself go a little. It was harder to carry on long-winded conversations now. Damn! We all know how much I hate to talk. Now, others were cheering me on, and I barely heard them. I was focused...in the zone. I downed another cup of water and pressed onward, preparing for the 1 short, steep hill. I pumped my arms and maintained my cadence up the hill, allowing my breathing to increase sharply. "You can recover at the top. At the top," I kept telling myself. Plus, I knew it was the last hill; after that, it was all flat or downhill.

I reached the final turn-around and headed back for the final 1.25 miles. A refreshing breeze hit me, and I picked up the pace. I just felt good. A girl passed me, the number "33" blatant on her calf. "Oh no you didn't!" I thought. I wanted to beat her. Bad. I picked up the pace but she was going at a good clip. I made a quick assessment; she seemed a very worthy competitor; I wasn't sure I had it in me to catch her. I resolved to keep her in my sights, which was proving hard enough to do. Just when I thought I was going to have to let her go, I began passing other girls in my age group that I hadn't been able to muster enough steam to get ahead of before. Okay. Just a little longer. 1 more mile, 1 more mile, I told myself. Even if I couldn't pass Miss 33, I could use her to get a better time for myself. That was motivation enough. At the final turn towards the chute, the final 1/4 mile, I decided to lay it all on the line. Was it me, or was she fading? Couldn't be. Must be my imagination. It was time. Now or never. I began my sprint, blasting past her, bracing myself for her final kick. It never came. She never even rallied with me. I was disappointed. Nonetheless, I was also ecstatic; I had passed the fearsome, Miss 33! I crossed the finish line in a full sprint, fully satisfied, fully ecstatic. It had been a glorious race.

Summary:
Camp Pendleton International had been wonderful the previous 2 years, and I wasn't to be disappointed for year #3. In addition, I was later to discover I had run the 10k in :48 minutes (about 7:48 min/miles), which is my fastest 10k EVER (even when compared to a straight 10k without a swim and bike beforehand). My long-standing goal had been to run a :50 min 10K, which always had seemed to escape me, and I had finally surpassed it! Compared to last year, I shaved 20 minutes off my overall time. In addition, I raced at an intensity that was enjoyable. It didn't feel like I was trying harder. I was also calm and relaxed and just having fun, which I've learned is where my best performances come from. All I can say is I am more than grateful for the little push I needed to get my ass out the door.

Previous CP International Race Reports:
2007
2006

Thanks, Brent and Russ for the awesome pics!

Thanks for the Pick-Me-Up

Just wanted to give a shout-out to all my blog friends for your encouragement, support, and flood of compliments. Always makes me feel better on a lousy day. I've been kind of grumpy lately. In a slump. I guess the weekend's workouts took their toll. I've had no energy, no oomph this week. I was hoping to train hard this week and recover next week but it looks like I've taken my recovery week early. I had to. My Tuesday morning bike ride was embarrassing. My toe still hurts so I swapped weights for my run Tuesday pm. Wednesday, I headed out on Pandora after work, excited about my evening ride. As I pedaled down the coast, my legs had no juice, and I felt sluggish. The sluggish feeling felt progressively worse and worse. I gave it the 10-minute rule. After 15, I knew it was time to turn-around and head home, head hung low, tail tucked between my legs. I barely made it up the inside of Torrey Pines. I took the rest of the evening off. I'm taking today off too. I think I will just swim on Friday. I'm trying to recover and get my mojo back before Saturday's race (Camp Pendleton International Triathlon). Gulp.

San Diego International Tri Pics

http://amateurtrigirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/san-diego-international-triathlon-2008.html

Iron Weekend

No, I'm not signed up for an Ironman. But I'm training for one anyway. A bunch of my friends (and Brent) are signed up for Ironman Arizona in November. I had so much fun training for the first one, I find myself training for this one too. I just can't help myself. This time, I am especially enjoying just doing the training without the added pressure of a crazy-hard race looming ahead (okay, well I do have a marathon in October). I am finding the key to training hard is recovering hard. Obeying this law, I've been eating a lot of good food (high in protein, fruits and veggies), sleeping a lot, getting deep-tissue massages regularly, stretching daily, and doing Yoga to boot. I guess I am simply not happy unless I'm deliriously exhausted from the previous day's workouts. If it were anything other than exercise, my family would launch an intervention, and I would be sent off to rehab.

Long Bike
On Saturday, a group of 11 of us gathered for an 80 mile bike ride with heat, hills, and wind at 6:30 in the morning. What more can you ask for? Thankfully, we had a nice cool cloud cover for more than half of the ride. It was unbelievably humid, however, unusual for San Diego. My sunglasses kept fogging up. I eventually just tucked them into my back pocket, tired of not being able to see.

As I conquered Scripps Poway Parkway and Hwy 67 on Pandora, I rejoiced. A short, little year ago, these hills always killed me. This Saturday, I didn't hammer but just enjoyed the climb. I couldn't believe I could find a pace that felt comfortable. These used to be monster mountains to me. I watched a road runner awkwardly take flight and soar across the road before darting away into the scrub brush. The other riders loudly cursed at me as I explored an extra loop in Ramona, offering scenic views of neighboring farms. Of course, I somehow found the few hills hidden there as well. I had always thought Ramona was pretty flat. Just windy. On Saturday, I found both. Hills and wind somehow always seem to come to me like metal to a magnet.

The group stopped at a grocery store on Main St, and I gobbled down some pretzels, half a turkey sandwich, and a chocolate chip cookie, chased by a Coke. Much better. We began our journey home through the windy, narrow roads of Highland Valley. Riding westward offers some very exciting descents around some very tight switchbacks, which Pandora loves (she hates it when I hit the breaks, and prefers me in the drops, of course). It was the exhilaration I feel when screaming down and around and upside down on a roller coaster. I just love when you have to break to 40!

I felt great all the way until we hit Camino del Sur. At that point, I decided I was done. My hands hurt, my feet swelled, my quads screamed, my lower back ached, and my stomach began to feel nauseous. Oh, and it was humid and hot, and I was dripping with sweat. Only 10 more miles...Of course, hill after hill kept appearing. Are you kidding me? I couldn't complain though; I had planned the route. We hit the 56 bike path, and I knew we had only 5 miles to go. The last 5 miles was the longest 5 miles I had EVER ridden, especially since we faced the full brunt of wicked headwinds. One last hill, and I was home. Thank, God! I drank 2 full glasses of ice-cold water, grabbed a bag of ice, placed it on my forehead, and laid on the floor of my air-conditioned apartment for about 10 minutes. God, that was a great ride.

Long Run
Sunday, I got to sleep in until 6:15 am. (Did I just say that?) Somehow, I dragged myself out of bed to meet my girlfriends for my long run. My goal was 16. 16? (Gulp). How the hell am I going to do that? Do you know what we just did Saturday? Are you crazy? Btw, are you aware that your toe still HURTS?! I ignored the voice of reason in my head. And started running. Slowly. One foot in front of the other, 1 mile at a time.

I chatted easily with one of my friends as ran through Batiquitos Lagoon. The cool, packed dirt trail was soft and forgiving on my legs. We did 2 loops, and 9 miles flew by. I felt great. She returned the start, and I continued onward. I hit the coast and made my way south, watching triathletes battle the heat and hill by South Ponto State Beach as they finished up the bike leg of the Carlsbad Triathlon (great race, btw). I felt a pang of remorse; I wanted to race! However, I had become one of those people. You know the type. The athletes you scorn for running a 2nd loop after the race is done because the race itself wasn't long enough for those crazies to get a decent workout. I had wanted to go long this weekend, and the Carlsbad Tri wasn't going to do it for me. (Besides I have Camp Pendleton next weekend anyway.)

I stopped briefly to refill my bottles at Ponto. It was SO humid! I took extra time to take care of myself--ate enough, drank enough, salted enough. I knew it would pay dividends later. I reached Neptune and ran towards Moonlight State Beach in Encinitas. I admired the multi-million dollar homes with coveted beach-front property and well-manicured little gardens in the front yards.

The turn-around came so quickly. I headed back, a new spring in my step. I was picking up the pace! I felt wonderful! I must have been fueling and hydrating properly because when I hit mile 14, I felt like my head was floating on my body; somehow my legs were carrying me along all by themselves. I had run all the pain from yesterday's bike ride out of my legs. I felt nothing but numbness. I admired the turquoise-green ocean, lapping lazily at the sand. Right at that moment, I was overwhelmed by a great sense of peace and comfort. I was exactly where I wanted to be at exactly the right time. It was a tremendous moment of clarity. My whole being, spirit, and soul was entirely present at that instance in time, from each ephemeral moment to moment, lucidly demarcated by each footstep.

When my truck appeared at mile 16 and-a-half, it took great pains to stop. Afterwards I felt alive and invigorated. Not sure why a long bike ride leaves me wrecked while a long run seems to breathe life and energy into every fiber of my being. I am salivating for my next long run.

Blahs

I feel fine. Just sluggish. Can't shake it. I don't feel particularly tired. Been sleeping okay. Eating like a champ. Not too sore. Okay, my arms are a little sore from all the swimming (~8,000 m/week) but nothing out of the ordinary. My training plan says I'm not due for a recovery week for 2 more weeks. Checked my volume and it's not too high. But I still feel blah. However, my training plan says the last several workouts I've done have felt sluggish. And my times have slowed down. Frustrating. I feel like I'm working verrrry hard for very little outcome. I swim as fast as I can and am sure I'm going to set a new WR. When I hit the wall, it IS a new record--STE (Slowest Time EVER). Same thing happening on the track. And on the bike...puh-lease. I don't even want to talk about it. I can't even muster the power to feign an attempt at speed. All I can do is spin. UGH!

I know I probably should take a day off. But I did that Monday! I know, I know. Another day off. (But I don't want to, she whines.) I almost skipped my evening bike ride yesterday. I couldn't tell if I was suffering from an afternoon slump or if I was really tired. So I decided to get on the bike and assess after 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, I felt great. So I hammered down the coast for 10 miles before turning around and hammering back into a headwind like it was nothing (20 mph avg out, 18 mph avg back). Guess I still do have the power. Sometimes. Course the cup of espresso might have helped too.

This morning, I hopped back into the pool for more. (Guess Terry's 3,000 meters yesterday didn't teach me a lesson). My arms were tired. But I had a breakthrough--she told me to keep my fingers closed during the pull part of the stroke and focus on keeping my arms straight during the first part of recovery (instead of swinging back over my back and twisting all about). All of a sudden, I was swimming faster with the same effort! So I hopped in the pool at 7:30 (late, I know) and began chipping away at Sickie's workout with tired, weary arms. I was trying my best to pretend I was Dara Torres as I crawled (bad pun, I know) down the lane. Extend from the lats, front quadrant, close fingers, arm up straight from hip, almost out, quicker turn-over, no, don't shorten stroke, twist from core...no wonder I was tired! All-in-all I felt pretty good, especially during the 600 meters (the longer, the better--I wish he would give us 1,000 m straight).

At the end, I introduced myself to a girl I didn't recognize in my lane. She responded by saying she remembered me from one time before. She then commented that I was faster since the last time we had swam together. That just made my day! I'm still grumpy but maybe not quite as much.

Speed Work Phase

Less Is More (Part III)

(Hmm....I see a pattern here)

I was feeling guilty about training less. As usual, I've been diligently analyzing my weekly volume and miles. Since Ironman, I've shifted my focus to speed, which is less impressive since both the mileage and time drop in my weekly stats. Then, I looked more closely...I started assessing how quickly I was getting the miles done. Turns out, part of the reason my weekly time has dropped is that, lo and behold, I've gotten faster. Who would've thunk? Sure, part of the fewer hours is fewer miles but it has also started taking me less time to do the miles I cover. Big sigh of relief. Guess the training is working.

For the first time in my life, I can actually focus on speedwork. Training for the Ironman earned me a huge base. Now, I am building speed without injuring myself or tearing myself down. However, I still find that the increased intensity demanded by the speedwork requires significantly more recovery and rest than I anticipated. I feel fantastic during (and after) my workouts, whether they be 5 trips up Torrey Pines (hill repeats) or an Olympic brick at Fiesta Island (19 mph bike for 16 followed by 33 min run for 4.2) but definitely feel the hang-over effects the following morning. Therefore, I make sure the day following a hard speed day is less intense, more forgiving, and sometimes (gasp) off completely.

So I think I'll let myself off the hook for dropping my volume. Obviously, something is working. Plus, I'm enjoying the increase in muscle mass. My body type is not the kind that holds onto muscle easily. Thanks to my genetic slow-twitch build, I can hit the weight room 3x a week and still look like a string bean. It's kind of fun to see me "bulk up" from the pool and the hills on the bike and the speedwork on the track. It's a little alarming to jump on the scale though--I've gained 4 lbs since IMAZ! Yikes! However, my pants fit the same so I keep repeating to myself that it's muscle. Right?

Happy Speeding!!!

PS--It's hard not to get super-motivated after watching the Olympic Trials. I can't stay out of the pool. Dara Torres ROCKS!!!

PPS--Oh yeah. And 3 more little words of inspiration: Tour de France!

Tips for Speedwork:

1. Go hard on speed days, really hard. Make sure the overall distance is much shorter than on base-training days.

2. Intersperse easy days with hard days. Never do back-to-back speed days.

3. You may need more rest and recovery than during base training (Shhh. Don't tell anyone but I've been taking Monday AND Friday off lately. Ahh! The insanity!).

4. Don't forget to stretch properly before and after a speed workout. Also, include proper warm-up and cool-downs to avoid injuring muscles.

5. Hydrate and eat properly before and after too. It's hard to do so during a very intense workout. I like to eat ~100-200 cals 1 hr before I hit the track plus take in fluid. Afterwards, I hit the chocolate milk ASAP for speedy recovery.

6. Less is more. Avoid doing more than 2 hard speed workouts a week. If you do a hard track workout 1 week, do a hard swim the next, followed by a hard brick the 3rd week (the 4th is a recovery week--no speed workouts at all, right?).

7. Speedwork is verrry hard on your body and puts you at a higher risk for overtraining and injury. At the first sign of either, back off. Take time off or go back to base training immediately.

Links on Speedwork:

http://www.runnersworld.co.uk/news/article.asp?UAN=167

http://www.active.com/running/Articles/Speedwork_in_Disguise.htm

http://swimming.about.com/od/swimworkouts/a/aerobicswimpace.htm

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa4270/is_200511/ai_n15744079

San Diego International Triathlon 2008 Race Report

http://www.kozenterprises.com/Triathlons/interdf84.htm

It was only an Olympic distance triathlon but I was nervous. I had sprained my big toe 10 days ago, and it was only 70% healed. I had resolved to do the race just for fun and not care about time. My strategy was to hit the swim and bike as hard as I could so I wouldn't want to run fast. Then, I would run verrry conservatively. Walk if I must. At least I was still racing. Still, in the back of my head, I wondered, "Can I still PR?" I had done this race 2 years ago, in much poorer shape.

We got to transition just as they opened. Within 5 minutes, I was finished with my set-up. After the intense set-up involved with Ironman transitions, everything else seems like cake now. The body-marker wrote my number in HUGE letters on my leg so that the last number was on my knee-cap. C'mon! Next time, I'm just going to do it myself (I keep a Sharpie in my bag, just in case). I grabbed my wetsuit, cap, and goggles and headed towards the bathroom. Suited up, and waited. And waited. And waited. The first wave left at 6:40 but my wave didn't go until 7:25. Torture! Can I go now? Now? How about now?

Swim:

Finally, it was time to get in the water. I jumped into the calm, 70-degree water. Perfect. It tasted like diesel. Ah, yes. We must be in the Harbor. Yummy. I swam out to the deep-water start and bobbed with the other 68 girls in my wave. We chatted pleasantly and wished each other good luck. Girls are SO much nicer to each other than guys when racing!

I had taped my toe with waterproof tape in an attempt to support it for the run. It promptly slipped off as I waited for the horn to blow. I tried to throw it to the bottom (yes, I'm polluting, I know, but the water's already pretty nasty) but it kept floating to the surface. I looked around, sheepishly wondering if I was disgusting everyone by my mass of floating athletic tape. I guess it could have been worse. It could have been a turd. I decided to keep it wadded up in my fist until the horn blew. Then, I threw it under the water behind me. By the time it surfaced, I figured I would be long gone and could no longer be traced back to the scene of the crime.

We all took off, and I focused on staying in the middle of the pack. Unfortunately, my arms wouldn't obey, and I kept veering to the left when I breathed left. Then back to the right when I breathed right. Guess it was payback for Saturday's 1.7-mi ocean swim. Oh, well. At least it was only 1,000 meters. Did I just say that? I couldn't believe how quickly the buoys flew by. I zipped by the turn-around and picked up the pace. I could already see the final buoy and exit ramp in the distance. I remember a time (not that long ago) when 1,000 meters seemed to last an eternity.

T1:

I hopped out of the water and across the timing mat. My watch read 18 minutes. Yippee (5 minutes better than 2 years ago). I walked gingerly to my bike, waaaaay down on the far side of transition. I wanted to run sooo badly but restrained myself. No barefoot running on pavement with my bad toe! Slipped on my helmet, sunglasses, shoes and then w.a.l.k.e.d. to the mounting area. Ugh! I wanted to run SO badly! It was hard to let everyone else run by.

Bike:

I clipped into Pandora, stood up out of the saddle and sprinted off. I had selected Pandora (my road bike--Look 585 Elle) instead of Torch (tri bike--Kuota K-Factor) because of the numerous little hills on the SDIT bike course. A tri bike might be faster but a climbing bike saves your legs, thus an advantage when you hit the run course. And with my injured toe, I wanted to keep as much pressure off my toe as possible. Using a lightweight road bike designed specifically for climbing was a smart strategy for this course. In addition, I was super stoked about debuting my gorgeous new road bike for the first time.

Pandora didn't let me down. Chomping at the bit, she took off, zipping around people, left and right. Taking them down. It was as if she was telling me, "Finally! I get to have some fun! Just sit back, relax, and stay out of my way. Let me do my job!" We hit Canon, and she took off. I spun up it effortlessly, amazed at the number of people I was passing. My face was burning, and I was breathing hard. Very hard. No worries. Plenty of time to recover at the top. I let loose full throttle.

On the downhills, I hit it hard as well. Pandora descended like a demon, surprising me. I didn't think a bike as light as she would be good at descending but I hunkered down on the top tube, and she screamed downwards at 35 mph. We passed more people on tri bikes as they leisurely coasted down the hills, sipping on their bottles and popping GUs. What is this? A picnic? (Actually, I was kind of thirsty too but had dropped my water bottle. Maybe this saved me more time? Afterall, I didn't need to waste time drinking, and no bottle = a lighter bike!)

I used the momentum from the downhills to spring halfway up the next hill before powering up and gearing down slightly. Then, I popped out of the saddle, unleashing Pandora from her box. That's right! I'm standing on the pedals! Want some of this? Pandora is so light; it's a treat to stand up and glide up the hills. (I think she has wings, honestly. Is that cheating?) As we crested, I continued standing and pedaling, springing forward, gathering speed, before gently resting on the saddle again, and recovering on the downhill sections.

At the end of the 2nd turn-around, as I circled around the Cabrillo National Monument, I took a brief second to admire the ocean surrounding me on all sides. Not only was the course fun and challenging with all the rolling hills but I had forgotten how beautiful it was.

I passed a girl in a pretty light blue-green tri-top and called out, "On your left!" As I passed, she cheered me on, "Go, Rachel!" I turned my head back, recognizing the voice. Michelle? Obviously, I was in the zone. I no longer saw people on bikes. My vision had clouded, as if I was seeing from robot eyes like the movie Predator. Moving object ahead. Obstacle. Go around. Guy slowing down on hill. Obstacle. Go around. Girl passing me. Age. 32. Enemy. Passing unacceptable. Take her out. Take her out.

T2:

I couldn't believe how quickly the bike was over. I cruised into T2. 0:55:16. I'll take it. My bike was one of the first ones back in my wave. Really? That had never happened before. I tried to re-tape my toe but my feet were wet and the tape kept sliding off. This wasn't going to work. I gave up, slid my socks and shoes on, and took off towards the timing mats, my visor and race belt in hand.

Run:

I tested my toe. Ran conservatively. Focused on my running form as I had practiced. Land light. Off quick. I kept repeating my new mantra to myself as I focused on striking mid-foot under my body and taking off quickly without using my toes. I felt good. Plus, my legs felt fresh. My breathing was calm and rhythmic. My feet felt quick too. How much faster could I really go? I wondered to myself. I let a few guys race past me, their breathing rapid and their faces red. My confidence grew. I knew they would fade in the first 2 miles.

I started settling into my rhythm. It felt SO good to just be able to run. Running is my favorite and my 10-day deficit had made my heart grow fonder. I wish the run was longer, I thought to myself. Then, I hit mile 2 and accidentally toed off. Searing pain shot through my toe like a lightning bolt. I limped for several strides, trying furiously to regain my rhythm. No, no, no, please, no! The pain subsided, and I diligently focused on my form again, slowing my pace. This seemed to work. Land light. Off quick. Land light. Off quick. I kept repeating to myself.

Soon, I was running rhythmically again, pain-free. Thank you, oh, thank you, toe. Thank you for letting me run today. If you get me through this, I will give you whatever you need. X-rays, doctor's appointments, rest, ice, acupuncture, yes, needles in the toe; I don't care how much it hurts. You get whatever you want. The toe responded by allowing me to continue running painlessly so the bribing must have worked. Oddly enough, the farther I ran, the less pain I felt, and the more pressure the toe seemed to be able to withstand. I was elated. I can run again! Oh, happy, happy day. Have I told you how much I love running?

I continued focusing on my running form. I felt so light and quick on my feet. I quickly chased down the guys who had started out from T2 too quickly. They were crashing and burning now at the halfway point. I felt strong, confident, and my breathing was calm and even. I knew I could go even harder if I was 100%. But I was happy to stay at my current pace. I was happy just to be able to run. In addition, it was a revelation to focus inward so attentively. Normally, I zone out when I run. For the first time, I was acutely aware of every movement, every breath, every step I took. I had to be in order to run pain-free. I had heard that elite runners run this way but had always dismissed this tactic, thinking it would be very tedious and exhausting. On the contrary, focusing in was exhilarating. I felt connected to my body, and more importantly, could eke out more speed effortlessly from every stride.

I reached mile 5 and picked up the pace slightly. I tried not to but several girls in my age group began pressing the pace. I could pass most of the girls wearing the light blue singlets and many of the girls wearing the orange singlets but the ones wearing the pink (HerSports), my God! They were so fast! I begrudgingly let them go, knowing today was not the day to push it. Not with the toe. Another day, another day. Still, I took some satisfaction in knowing the girls I was chasing down were part of a team. With a coach. While I go it alone. Did I mention that I was competitive?

My favorite San Diego homeless guy was perched at mile 6, cheering us on. He's always in good spirits, and I waved to him as I passed by. The final 200 meters seemed to take an eternity, and I really had to hold myself back. No sprinting down the chute today! I crossed the finish, exhilarated. That was a BLAST! And my run was :52. Not bad at all with an injured toe!

Overall, my time was 2:11:42 (more than 15 minutes faster than 2 years ago!) I conquered my injury, had a fantastic time, learned how to tune-in instead of tune-out, perfected my running form, and still PR'ed. What more can a gal ask for? Plus, a bunch of us went out to Naked Cafe for a delicious brunch to celebrate. Yippee!

Turf Toe

My toe is doing very well thanks to my body's miraculous healing abilities. Luckily, it held up for SDIT on Sunday. However, after injuring it at the last Aquathlon, two weeks ago, I did a little research. I thought I would share.

Apparently, my injury is termed, "Turf Toe" aka a metatarsalphalangeal joint sprain. No wonder they call it turf toe instead! It can be caused by repeated impact to the ball of the foot (e.g. wearing shoes that aren't supportive enough or running on hard surfaces--running barefoot in my particular case). It can also be caused by "a very vigorous upward bending of the big toe". Sound familiar? As I was hauling ass barefoot through the sand during the Aquathlon, my big toe got hooked in the sand while flexed as my leg continued moving forward, i.e. my big toe went one way, my leg went another. OUCH! Then, to make matters worse, I finished the rest of the run.

Afterwards, it hurt to walk. A lot. It hurt to go down stairs. It hurt to flex my big toe. At all. And there was swelling. I was not happy. I figured I had probably sprained my big toe (pretty close self-diagnosis, don't you think?--f.y.i--not recommended).
For treatment, I decided to use R.I.C.E.:
1. Rest: stop running completely for the next 10 days and hope that it would heal in time for SDIT.
2. Ice (and Ibuprofen)
3. Compression (I used an Ace bandage to compress the ice to my toe)
4. Elevation (then I kept the foot elevated)
5. Tape (while walking and for running, tape the big toe to remind me not to toe off; see link below for how-to instructions on taping for turf toe)
(R.I.C.E. works for almost all injuries)

Luckily, I was still able to swim and bike during this time, which actually helped push the fluid out of my toe and reduce stiffness. I just had to be really careful not to aggravate the injury e.g. pushing off the wall = very BAD! Unfortunately, the penalty for forgetting about my injured toe and flexing it unwittingly would produce pain so sharp, I was howling for mama. I mentioned this to a friend of mine, to which his response was, "Hmm, that sounds like a fracture." This was the day before SDIT. Can we say ancy?

On Friday, I tried a slow, conservative 1-mile practice run to test out the toe. The first half mile felt great. I relaxed and settled into an easy pace. I found that I could avoid pain completely by altering my running stride. I focused on landing lightly mid-foot with my feet solidly under me and taking off quickly, as if I had no toes at all. Turns out, this is correct running form anyway. Maybe this injury would force me to run more efficiently?

100 yards later, my focus faded and I forgot about my new running form. And toed off. YOWCH!!! Mama! On a pain scale of 1-10, it was an 11. I hopped about on 1 foot for a few steps before gingerly trying the foot again. Doubt rose up in me. Should I really race tomorrow? 10K is a looong way to go on one foot. I decided I would at least do the swim and the bike. For the run, I would hoof it conservatively. And hold back. Walk if I needed to. I really wanted to race...just for the fun of it. I decided I would rather race slowly than not race at all.

FYI:
Turf toe takes 3-4 weeks to heal (as do most sprains) but I was asking it to heal in 10 days. You should always go to a specialist and get an x-ray to make sure the toe hasn't been fractured.

Links for Turf Toe:
http://orthopedics.about.com/cs/toeproblems/a/toeproblems_5.htm
http://www.sportsinjuryclinic.net/cybertherapist/front/foot/turftoe.htm
http://www.athleticadvisor.com/Injuries/LE/Foot&Ankle/turf_-_toe.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turf_toe

Taping for Turf Toe:
http://www.athleticadvisor.com/Injuries/LE/Foot&Ankle/turf-toe_taping.htm

2.5K Pier to Cove Swim

Even though I had SDIT on Sunday (post coming soon), I decided to do the La Jolla Cove Swim Club's Pier to Cove Swim on Saturday. What better taper workout than a 1.7 mile ocean swim? I knew I would sleep well that night, a rarity before race day.

I checked in and met some other swimmers. The atmosphere was very laid-back and relaxing, perfect for my needs and expectations. After seeing other swimmers with flippers, I didn't feel so bad about donning my wetsuit, even though the water was a balmy 70-degrees. I surveyed the water--calm, glassy...perfect. I was excited. This was exactly what I wanted to be doing at that moment. There is no better feeling than knowing you are at the right place at the right time.

The whistle blew and I slowly shuffled my feet behind the other swimmers to kick up any stray sting rays. Letting out a pleasant sigh, I dove under the waves. It was time to swim. By the time I reached the end of the pier, the crowd had dispersed, and I was surrounded by nothing but the quiet stillness of the open ocean. And I loved it. It was so peaceful. Just what I wanted.

Most of the swimmers picked a line to the east, closer to shore. I purposely swam westward, toward the open ocean, knowing there was a southbound current that would pull me towards the cove. Only problem is, you have to be careful not to miss the mouth of the cove altogether and end up in PB. I quickly found the current and slipped easily through the water. It felt effortless. I checked to make sure I wasn't drafting off another swimmer. Nope. Just the current. Ahhhh.

A volunteer kayaker paddled west of me and pointed towards the mouth of the cove. He was concerned I was swimming too far west and was off-course. I gave him the thumbs-up sign. He smiled and paddled off. I continued on my line. I settled into a relaxed rhythm. To help make my mind blank, I counted strokes. Every time my breathing arm entered the water, I ticked off another count. When I reached 10, I switched to the opposite breathing side, sighting as I turned. This allowed me to distribute the workload evenly between both sides of my body, helped me stay on a straight course, while simultaneously giving me the opportunity to sight without disrupting my stroke.

All of a sudden, the kayaker appeared to my west again, pointing towards the cove. I gave him the thumbs-up sign. Again. This time, he didn't leave. Ugh. I don't need a babysitter! Was I really going that slowly? Was I really that far off-course? I checked. Nope. I was exactly where I wanted to be. This dude was really pissing me off! He was interrupting my rhythm. I wanted to tell him what was up but I didn't want to stop swimming altogether. Didn't he know that sometimes the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line? I tried to quell my rising anger. Afterall, he was just doing his job. I was one of the only swimmers this far west, and it probably looked like I was going to start swimming to Hawaii.

I sped up, allowing my anger to fuel my engine, in a futile attempt to lose him. No such luck. Maybe if I was Michael Phelps I could have lost him but he didn't budge. I switched sides and started breathing to my east; that way, I could pretend the kayaker wasn't there. All of a sudden, he popped up to my east! Are you kidding me? I switched again. He materialized instantly to my west. Switch--east. All the time, he kept pointing. This was getting ridiculous! Finally, he paddled directly in front of me. Great. Now I have an escort. At least I got to draft off him.

I finally couldn't take it anymore. I allowed him to push me east, directly to the center of the Cove's mouth. Luckily, the northward current that I would normally have been pushed directly into was very weak so I didn't have a current to fight. Unfortunately, he did push me directly into the center of a massive forest of kelp beds. I was so worked up, I surged through the kelp, punching angrily through. I got a couple of mouthfuls of the slippery, green algae. Oh, well. Isn't it a delicacy? Good for you too, right?

I saw the mouth of the cove and started swimming faster. I could see the stairs leading down to the cove's beach. So close...so close (object may be farther than they appear). I surged forward. I paused briefly to admire the bright orange garibaldi. So pretty.

--garibaldi

I grabbed sand. Grabbed it again. Then pulled myself to the beach and ran across the finish line. A fabulous 56 minutes. Boy, did I sleep well that night.

He Said/She Said

How to Date and Train with Someone Who's Faster:
...without getting left in the dust...

He Said:
I guess by the time this gets posted on Rachel’s Blog I may be single again but here is my take on the situation:

Having a significant other who also does triathlon is absolutely wonderful! She just “gets me”. She understands the ups and downs of training and racing, and it’s great to be with someone who shares the same passion! We push each other in the pool, in the ocean, on the bike, the weight room, and certainly on the track. We spend hours talking about equipment, training techniques, and who’s who in the triathlon world. And I know that if I start missing workouts (I am training for Ironman AZ on 11/23/08), she will get on my case and keep me in line. I mean, sometimes things just come up that you can’t avoid that could make you miss a workout…like happy hour.

So you're probably wondering……..who’s faster??? We’ll that depends. We’re about the same in the pool, I’m a better cycling, and she’s a better runner.
So what happens when we “train together”???
Here’s the scoop:

Swim:
We swim about the same pace. So we usually carpool together to our early morning Master’s swim class, swim in the same lane, and if we have time grab breakfast afterwards. Sure there is some jealousy when one of us is stronger on a certain day, but no big deal. (I’m just going to throw this in there. Thank God for the Breast Stroke. Guys, you know what I mean! Who needs coffee in the morning to wake up? Totally Awesome!)

Run:
OK, she can smoke me and I know it. In the Aquathlons (1k swim/5k run), she always passes me on the run. But I don’t really care. OK, maybe a little because of the smirk on her face when she passes me like a little girl that just took the last piece of chocolate out of her little sister’s Halloween bag. And honestly the view from behind when she runs ahead of me makes me want to stop and wait for her to run by anyway.

We do actually run together a few times during the week. Sometimes she just takes off and makes me wonder why the fuck I drove all the way over to her office to run on the nearby trails. But then she will circle back and everything is fine. Then on Sunday’s we usually do a longer group run (up to 12 miles now! Yippee!); she can take off at a faster pace and I still have someone to run with.

Bike:
During the week we usually will ride together once or twice for a quick but laid back 20 miles or so. We usually just hang out and talk and every now and then I’ll try my best to impress her by riding a little faster. OK, maybe a lot of the time I go faster. But we always re-group shortly after I break away. Yes, I am trying to get a workout in too.

Then on Saturday, Rachel will usually organize a group ride. And yes, she puts a lot of effort in to the ride by planning the route and printing out route sheets and I’m really grateful for her effort. I TRY my best to hold back on the group rides (Usually 60 – 80 miles) but when other riders take off I just can’t hold back. I have to go fast! I mean, come on! This is the only event that I’m halfway good at! This is where the trouble starts. I think she wants me to hold back and just ride with her the whole time. But I REALLY enjoy going fast and challenging myself. Plus I am training for Ironman Arizona and need to work on decent pace for long periods of time.

Yes, I’ve gotten yelled at a few times on the bike rides. To where it’s almost embarrassing. In fact she told me a few weeks ago she didn’t want me to come on her rides anymore! Now it even seems like other riders try to instigate a fight on the ride for entertainment. This needs to stop!

Solutions:
1. Quit training together.
(not really an option)
2. Find another girlfriend that does triathlon but can’t speak English.
3. Let her draft off me the whole bike ride.
4. Tie a Bungee cord to the back of my bike.
5. Buy a beach cruiser to ride on the Saturday rides.
(Does Cervelo make a Beach Cruiser??? The “P3B”??? You know, the kind with the pink bell and streamers. SWEET!!!)
6. Compromise and just ride the first half the Saturday ride with her and then ride with the faster group afterwards.

She Said:
So I've been dating this guy (surprise, surprise). Turns out he's just as crazy about triathlon as I am. It's great. Fantastic. We train for the same races, frequent the same tri-geek social events, go to masters swim classes together (at 6 in the g-d morning), bike together, run together...you get the picture. Are you gagging yet?

Everything was on cloud-9 until I noticed the tone of my Saturday bike rides had shifted. Mainly, I would get insanely pissed off at the poor guy on every ride. Of course, my fury would build and build because I couldn't ride fast enough to catch him and yell at him. What happened to "Miss Independence"? I had been reduced to a needy, whining, helpless princess...the antithesis of everything I stand for. ICK! At the end of the ride, when we would all regroup, I would unleash my wrath on my bewildered, unsuspecting beau...much to the amused delight of all the other riders. What on earth was going on here?

First off, he's a stronger cyclist than I am. Fact. And I'm okay with that. I don't have such a fragile ego that I can't handle dating someone who is faster than me. That's ridiculous. Besides, I'm still faster on the run so it all pans out. I'm not humiliated when he smokes me on the bike at his easy-breezy pace of 25 mph, and I don't have a prayer of hanging on (okay, maybe a little but I can deal). I know how to handle myself on the bike; I certainly don't need a babysitter. And the last thing I want to do is hold someone back on my behalf; that would just make me feel S.L.O.W.E.R. Please! Go on! Go on! Leave me to ride behind at my embrarrassingly slow pace by myself where no one can see.

However....(c'mon you knew it was coming), when he makes a big stink about how we're going to ride TOGETHER and "bond" on the entire car trip to the bike start and then promptly drops me in the first few miles, I get a little PISSED OFF!!! To compound the matter, I have 4-6 hours of solitary riding on the bike before I can meet back up with him, and tell him what's on my mind. That's 4 to 6 hours of me doing nothing but thinking about how angry I am. When some people get angry, they wait 10 minutes to calm down before discussing their issues rationally. Unfortunately, that doesn't work for me. I stew. For 4 to 6 hours. I could melt steel with that kind of rage. No wonder he's riding ahead so fast! I guess I'd be hauling ass too! Dark be the day that I finally do catch him.

Sidenote:
Girls who get "left behind" also appreciate a chivalrous text every now and then from their guy riding ahead. It makes it seem like the guy cares about her well-being and would like to be informed if she's been taken out by a drunken motorist and is lying maimed and bleeding in a ditch on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

In the end, I just want to spend a little time together. Our long rides take a big chunk out of our Saturdays, and I experience so many incredible things. It seems a shame not to share them, especially when we're on the same f*#%ng ride.

After one particularly bad ride where I considered excommunicating him from all future rides, we finally hashed it out. How can we both get in a good workout and yet still spend time together during rides? Turns out, after talking to many of my tri-girlfriends, our feud is commonly shared by many active couples. Then, I happened upon the May issue of Runner's World, featuring a whole piece on "Love and Running". In it, they discuss how to share time together, yet still get a good workout in when one person is faster than the other. Ring a bell?

"Even if you prefer to run separately, make time to run together sometimes. Running lowers your barriers and puts you in your comfort zone, which allows you to say things you wouldn't necessarily share otherwise."
--Christian and Deena Johnson Hicks; Runner's World, May, 2008


Solutions?
1. Get faster.
Would be the simplest solution but in reality, much harder than it looks on paper. Believe me; I've been trying.
2. Get slower.
Not really fair to the person trying to improve their bike split.
3. Don't ride together.
Doesn't really solve the "let's spend time together" issue.
4. Ride together some of the time and separately at other times.
Hmmm. Compro-what? We may have hit upon something here. Ride together sometimes, separately other times, or a little mix of both. This may just be crazy enough to work!
5. Discuss your plan for the ride beforehand.
Make sure both of you are on the same page.

We decided on #s 4&5. For our next long ride, we agreed to ride together for the first part of the ride and then he would ride on with his bad-self, and I would meet up with him at the end. (Plus, he texted me a few times during the ride...extra bonus points!) The ride was awesome. I got to ride with him a bit, ride with everyone else a bit, enjoy the sights, we both got in a great workout, and no one got hurt or angry. If only every problem in life were that easy to solve.

How a Night Owl Became an Early(er) Bird

I hate the phrase, "The early bird gets the worm." I'm not an early bird. I'm a night owl. My sister's an owl. My father's an owl. My mother's an owl. It's in my blood, hard-wired into my genes. Unfortunately, we live in a diurnal society that operates in a tyrannically oblivious manner to alternative circadian rhythms. Night owls are frowned upon in our 9-5, workaholic world, where co-workers compete to see who can arrive at the office the earliest. Night owls are considered lazy, undisciplined, low-achievers.

"Night people are stuck with psychopaths like Adolf Hitler and Juan Arreola, the guy in Pennsylvania who nearly killed his girlfriend's 2-year-old last year, explaining to a judge, 'I'm not a morning person.'"

--Deepa Ranganathan, Slate, June 13, 2008

I have battled this preconceived prejudice for years. How many early birds have painted prolifically or written a short story on a creative burst at 3 a.m.? How many early birds have pulled a lounge chair on the lawn to watch a late summer meteor shower or catch a rare total lunar eclipse? There is nothing more soothing than the peaceful solace of the dead quiet of night, an hour before the first rays of sunlight break the thick blackness.
However, contrary to how it may seem, I've long harbored a secret envy for the early bird and a deep-seeded desire to come over and join the "light" side. The early birds, admittedly, seem to get a lot done before noon and are annoyingly cheerful first thing in the morning (without coffee--sacrilegious!). Perhaps I find them irritating because I'm secretly seething with jealousy?
Once I started becoming more active, my daylight hours suddenly became a precious commodity. For years, I lived in denial, believing that I could work out just as well at night. I would spend many hours inside a gym...alone, unable to bike after dark (or run because of the high crime-rate in St. Louis). However, let's face it, the best group workouts, the best gym classes, masters workouts, and bike rides--they're all held at the crack of dawn. I was missing out. I used to use every excuse in the book: I'm tired. I don't feel good in the morning. I don't have time. I'm just not a morning person. I've heard them all; I've used them all.
After I signed up for Ironman Arizona, one workout a day just wasn't going to cut it anymore. The hard, cold reality was staring me straight in the face. I couldn't avoid it anymore; I would have to start doing morning workouts. It only took a few morning workouts to appreciate the benefits of fitting in a 12-mile run and luxurious brunch with my girlfriends, all before 11 am. On those mornings, I felt less rushed and more relaxed. It seemed I was getting more out of my day. After my long run, I still had time for a nap, errands, and the rest of the afternoon to lounge on the beach. I could have my cake and eat it too--my life motto. Words to live by. Plus, I was able to enjoy the quiet of the morning just before sunrise. I relished in the stillness of the early morning streets...no traffic, no people, just plenty of empty bike lanes to hammer down while everyone else slept off their late-night hangovers. Did you know the temperature drops suddenly just before dawn breaks? Did you know songbirds actually do start singing at first light? All things I had never experienced.
I was also finding it easier to fall asleep earlier in the evening, exhausted from my busy day. Maybe I was onto something. I was hooked. I had joined the other side of those annoying, cheerful "early birds" (don't worry--I'm still far from cheerful when I first stumble out of bed at 5:15 am). Slowly, gradually, I started waking up early. 6 am swims, 7:30 am runs, 6:45 am bikes. I saw 5:30 many mornings, in the dark, damp, cold days of winter where the only thing to get me out of bed was a steaming hot shower, coffee and the promise of a nap later on. It has taken years to reach this place.
It has gotten easier. My stomach feels better in the morning; I can actually eat a small breakfast now before my workout. It's easier to jump in the cold water of the pool or take that first pedal stroke. Over the last 6 months, I have become a morning person. I can't keep my eyes open past 10:30 (I prefer to be asleep by 9:30), and it's easy to hop out of bed at 6:30. This, from a person who used to stay up routinely until 2 am and sleep soundly until 11 on weekends.
I'm still far from perfect. The other day, I was beating myself up for sleeping in until 7:00 am and missing my 6:00 am masters swim class. I went to the 7:30 am class instead. Halfway through the workout, I did a mental check. I felt good. More than good. Awesome. I reflected back 1 year ago when making a 7:30 am swim workout was pretty much impossible. Progress. I am making progress.

Tips for Waking Up Early:
1. Go to bed early (seems simple but it actually works).
2. Make small, incremental changes (Try moving back your bedtime and wake-up time by 10 minutes at a time. A 30 minute change takes several months).
3. Lay all your stuff out the night before.
4. If you're a coffee drinker, set up the pot the night before.
5. A quick, hot shower first thing in the am can really help wake you up.

Night Owl vs Early Bird Links:

• Early Bird or Night Owl?
  


• Night Owl Network
• Science Daily Releases
• Slate-Can a Night Owl Become a Morning Person?

Summer Solstice Ride

On Saturday, a wonderful group of about 20 people showed up bright and early (7 am) for an 80-mile coastal ride. It was a very humid day...for San Diego. Temps moved up into the mid-to-upper 80s, a perfect day for a coastal ride with cool ocean breezes.


We rolled out, and I chatted easily with friends I hadn't seen in awhile, and met new people who had joined us for the ride. I love the Saturday rides for the simple reason that I can simultaneously enjoy the outdoors, tour all of the county, get a great workout, and socialize. There is no better way to spend a Saturday.

--rolling out (before the "separation")


I looked back and noticed no one was behind us. The front group stopped on the border of Leucadia and Carlsbad to wait. We waited. And waited. I tried calling to some missing members of the group but we were in a dead zone. We started to worry (turns out there was a flat tire). Finally, we decided to do the "right" thing and circled back. Within minutes, the rest of our group zipped by in the opposite direction, blissfully unaware of our rescue operation. Damn!


We circled back and were instantly caught by a red light. And the next one. And the next one. And, no shit, the next one too. The main group continued on at a blinding pace, in a desperate attempt to "catch up" to us. Where's the karma in that? Alex, Mark, and I buckled down and formed a tight paceline. We began hammering. For the next 5-8 miles, we took turns pulling at a blinding 23-25 mph pace. I could feel the little glycogen in my quads, still not replaced from the 4 hard bike workouts earlier in the week, depleting rapidly like the nosediving needle of the gas gauge on a Ford Expedition.


F.I.N.A.L.L.Y., we caught the main group by the Carlsbad Starbucks and soft-pedaled to catch our breaths. And we still had 60+ miles to go. Oops. There was now a new front group, still hammering ahead to try and "catch us" but we were exhausted, and let them go.


At the base entrance of Camp Pendleton, we whipped out our IDs and re-grouped. I made a phone call to one of the riders in the front group (that would be Brent...always in the front group) and within minutes, we regained 100% group cohesion. I breathed a big sigh of relief, and all is right with the world again.


Riding through Camp Pendleton is always a treat and Saturday was no exception. Songbirds sang and wildflowers lined the road. There was little traffic, and the winds were unusually calm (unfortunately, this also made it hotter). The ocean glittered to our left. Out of the base, on the north side, we connected with the Trestles Bike Path, an abandoned highway where only bikes roam, a cyclists paradise. As I cruised through the tunnel that leads to the west side of the freeway, I let out a loud hoot, reverberating off the walls. I felt good. Very good. As we approached San Clemente, we circumvented around straggling surfers lazily swinging their surfboards to-and-fro. We stopped at a small liquor store and refueled with water, peanut butter crackers, and I stumbled upon a long-lost love, "Who's Your Daddy" energy drink. Oh, yeah!

--the group at the rest stop; from left to right: Kim, Kathy, Brent, Mark, Mark, Alex, Chris, me, Cheryl, Mary, Beth, and Dean.


Our bellies full and our bloodstreams caffeinated, we hopped back on the bikes and headed back. I felt tired but relaxed and kept waiting for the caffeine to kick in. There were no joyful hollers in the tunnel on the return journey, not because I was not joyful but because I was starting to feel a little less exuberant. It's more of a peaceful, relaxed tired, however, as opposed to a drained, I-don't-want-to-do-this-anymore tired. The heat has risen noticeably, and I drank extra water, liberally pouring it through the vents on my helmet for relief, a'la IMAZ style.


I chatted with Mark and Alex to pass the time, and Alex taught me about "negativity drills" and the definition of a M.I.L.F. I always learn something new on the Saturday rides. I greedily drank in the ocean view. The waves curled and rolled lazily onto the shore, and the water was a brilliant turquoise.

--Along Coast Hwy on the return trip, suffering the terrible view. Look at what we have to put up with here!

Back at the start, we loaded up our bikes and made the short 100-yard trip down to the ocean at Fletcher Cove. The cool water was so soothing on my hot, dry skin. We all dove in, swam past the breakers, and gently bobbed up-and-down in the buoyant salt water. Of couse, it's at this opportune moment that the caffeine from the energy drink kicked in, and I bubbled with conversation and enthusiasm, much to the bewilderment of the rest of the weary group. Feeling completely refreshed, we made our way across the street to the Naked Cafe for a generously-sized brunch (Banana and Blackberry Pancakes anyone?). A perfect ending to a perfect ride.


(Thank you, Brent, for the wonderful pics!)

Double Tagged!

I keep getting tagged so here goes:

#1--I got tagged by Renee.

1. Find the book closest to you and turn to page 123.
2. Locate the 5th sentence.
3. Post in your blog the following three sentences.
4. Then challenge five others to do the same.

I'm picking Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox because it RULES!

When I looked up to breathe, to confirm what he had just told me, off to my right side was the North Island, and I could see our starting point, jutting out ahead of us by three or four miles. When I lifted my head straight up, to see where the South Island should have been, all I saw in the distance was haze, and a sea of waves and heavy winds. It was impossible to think of cotinuing through it; I was exhausted.

FYI--This book is simply awesome. Check it!

#2. I also got tagged by NikeMom so here goes:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post and list their names, linking to them.
Fact #1:
When I was little, I was super allergic to poison oak. If it was a hot, windy day, I could catch it just by standing next to a bush. I didn't even have to touch the leaves! During the last week of 6th grade, my little sister gave me chicken pox as I battled simultaneously with a particularly nasty bout of poison oak!

Fact #2:
I used to ride horses competitively. Specifically dressage. I was kind of good at it and absolutely love horses and riding. I started triathlon when my 3rd horse, George, passed away. I miss it and will someday resume riding again. However, I am grateful for the opportunity to explore the world and discover other paths like triathlon.

Fact #3:
I began training for my first half-marathon during the middle of a sweltering summer in St. Louis. I did not know anything about proper hydration at the time. I would run loops around Forest Park in the middle of the day sans water (there are few drinking fountains in the park as well). During one particularly hot run, I became so dehydrated that I conjured up an imaginary drinking fountain. When I ran over to quench my overwhelming thirst, the cruel fountain magically disappeared.

Fact #4:
I'm normally a very sound sleeper who could snooze through World War III but I've had insomnia 2x in my life, each time for about 2 weeks. The first was right after graduating from college and immediately before getting married. The second was right before defending my thesis in St. Louis. I also mysteriously broke out in hives during this time. Sleeping pills only made me feel worse and all attempts to catch some Zzzzzs were miserable failures. I finally gave up going to bed at night completely and instead painted (watercolors) all through the night.

Fact #5:
I've been to Tempe Arizona two times, both of which instigated record highs. The first was for the Soma Half Ironman in late October 2007. Temps reached the upper 90s that day. The second was for Ironman Arizona April 2008. Temps were, hmmm, let's see...upper 90s that day. How many people still want me to come spectate in November?

Okay, now it's your turn. The following five fellow bloggers have been double-tagged:
James
Beth
Chad
BunnyGirl
Michelle

Amateur Tri Girl Sprains Toe at Aquathlon

The weather was beautiful. The water was warm and glassy smooth. I pedaled down to the Shores after work for the 2nd TCSD Aquathlon of '08 (http://www.triclubsandiego.org/). Put on my wetsuit and body-surfed until it was time to start. I felt good.

We all marched down to the Marine Room for the start. I felt calm and relaxed, very different from last year. I guess I've finally done enough club aquathlons that I can just enjoy them now without getting nervous. It's a great way to get in a hard-core speed workout and socialize with friends at the same time.

The whistle blew and the stampede was off, me trailing behind. What's the hurry? I dove under the waves and began stroking through the water. The mass start reminded me of IMAZ as I navigated in and out, in between, under, and over several bodies. I had a draft the whole way. I decided to push the pace a little. Focusing on technique, I thought about increasing my turnover while maintaining my glide, all the while, checking to see if my breathing was rapid but even. Sharp, rhythmic breaths. Ah, yes--that's the pace I want. I glanced at my watch as I hopped out of the water: 14:42, a full 2 minutes faster than last month. Yes! I'll take it.

I wriggled out of my wetsuit and began running...barefoot. I love running barefoot on the sand. I feel so light and fast. The beach was packed with kids and throngs of surfers, parents, walkers, joggers, sunbathers. The sand was littered with rocks, deep trenches and sandcastles. It was a dangerous obstacle course to navigate around but the extra challenges were kind of fun. I was able to narrowly circumvent all the treacherous hazards and was heading out to the pier on the 2nd lap with a dangerous invincible Superwoman feeling on a packed, flat, calm tract of sand when it happened. The big toe of my left foot somehow mysteriously got hooked in the sand as my left leg pulled forward for the next stride, bending my toe unnaturally in the opposite direction.

I knew instantly the damage was done. I limped severely for 20 steps. I'm out, I'm out, I thought repeatedly. I should stop. But, stubborn me, I didn't want to. It must have been the adrenaline. I continued limping onward. I tried to run. Couldn't. Then, tried to break into a slow run. This seemed to work. Maybe it was the endorphins but after a few minutes, I felt no pain. I finished the run, albeit at a slower pace (23:46, as opposed to 23 last month).

As soon as I crossed the finish line and broke to a walk, the pain in my toe screamed out, reminding me of the damage I had done. I limped over to the surf to soak my toe in the ocean. Then it dawned on me, and I almost broke into tears: I have the San Diego International Tri next weekend.

Bike Commute Day 2 (Take 2)

So far, so good. Everything is going very smoothly. At first, I was very tempted to jump in the truck. Would be sooo easy. Afterall, I already biked! I woke up early and went for a nice recovery ride with my new friend from next door. Plus, I got to ride Pandora with race wheels--she's all prepped and ready for next weekend's big race (San Diego International Tri).

By the time I got home, I didn't want to have to change to Strider (he's nice and all, no offense--but he's no Pandora) and ride up Torrey Pines to work. Plus, I knew I needed to stop by the BoA ATM, which was at least a mile in the wrong direction...uphill. Where is that whining coming from? I bungee-corded my light bike bag to the bike and hopped on Strider (tires already pumped and ready to go) in my lightly used bike clothes. No activation energy required. It doesn't get much easier than that. I just started pedaling. The whining, oddly enough, immediately disappeared.

I cruised through the ATM, weaving in-and-out of traffic hazards in the shopping center parking lot. I had no idea riding through a parking lot could be so dangerous! Way worse than riding on the road! I was hungry so I stopped by Jamba Juice for a smoothie. I nestled the cup in my bottle cage and sipped on ice cold Razmatazz with a whey protein boost on my ride in. It doesn't get much better than that.

southbound on 101 out of Del Mar. Ocean on the right, Torrey Pines straight ahead.

As I rode west through Del Mar and hit the coast, I smiled. How many people get to appreciate an ocean view on their daily commute? I was very glad I had ignored the whining voice in my head. Not only do I get to save gas $ and get some exercise, I get to relax and enjoy a little ocean therapy. Not a bad deal.

ocean view on my daily commute. Can we say I'm spoiled?

Bike Experiment Day 1

I've felt kind of guilty for using the car sometimes but I know half biking/half driving is a more realistic approach. Tuesday morning, I carpooled to Point Loma for a 6:45 am bike workout with JT's group at Moment Cycle Sports (http://momentcyclesport.com/). It felt wrong to drive to a bike workout but it was downtown and a good 20 miles away. Plus, the commute, although possible, can get a little hairy with traffic during rush hour.

My legs were a bit wobbly from the 5 trips up Torrey Pines on Torch the evening before (yea for hill repeats!) so I only made 1 trip up the Tidepools hill before going back to do a 2nd loop a'la San Diego International http://www.kozenterprises.com/Triathlons/interdf84.htm bike course (which I'm doing in 10 days; ack!). All in all, it was a good workout, and as usual, I felt better afterwards for doing it.

After getting dropped (by vehicle--sigh) at home, I hopped on Strider and took off for work. I was quickly reminded how much HEAVIER Strider is compared to my other steeds (especially with the bag on the back) as I toiled up Torrey Pines, sweat running down my cheeks. But after showering and changing at work, I felt great. It was a good feeling. Not too shabby.

I did, however, forget the key to my bike lock so Strider spent the day in my office. After a quick run in Torrey Pines, I made my way home. Uneventful, yet rewarding day of bike commuting.

Things of Note:
1. I bungee-corded my bag to the back of the pannier rather than the sides and liked this better. No falling off, no weighing the bike off to one side. It was much, much better. Much more stable.
2. I had all my clothes and toilietries waiting for me at work. The locker room supplied the towels. Now if I can only remember the combo to my locker...
3. I kept my running clothes and a spare pair of running shoes at the office to make running after work very easy.

Day 1 Bike Commute Stats:
Miles Commuted: 13
Gas $ Saved: $2.95 (gas is $4.54/gallon--the cheapest!)
Calories Burned (just on the commute): ~550!

P.S. I've also decided to go 7 days without sweets. That's right....NO chocolate! Ack. Of course, I decided to do this while PMSing. Not too smart. Oh, well. Today is Day 4. I feel great and have already lost 2 lbs!

Awesome quote...

This totally captures the essence of the title of my blog. Check it!


"Anytime you add that structure to something, for me, it kills it. Think about the word 'amateur': It has its root in the Latin word 'amare', which means 'to love'--you do it for the love of the sport."

--Charles Carlson, Bicycling June 2008

Resurrection of the Bike Experiment--Take 2

I'm back in town, fully recovered from my cold, and ramping up enthusiasm for the bike commuting experiment again.
http://amateurtrigirl.blogspot.com/2008/05/7-day-bike-experiment.html


I'm going to use the lessons I learned from Phase 1 and modify Phase 2:


1. I wil always, always, always use a U-lock (maybe more than that) to lock my bike. Also, there's a great article in Bicycling (http://www.bicycling.com/) this month on how to "Booby-Trap" your bike (shift the bike at stand-still so the chain will fall off was my favorite; undo the skewer so the wheel falls off was my 2nd fav)
http://www.bicycling.com/article/0,6610,s-4-41-17213-1,00.html
2. I am going to alternate between "car" days and "bike" days.
It was unrealistic to bike everywhere. I was cancelling appointments because there was no way for me to realistically bike there. For Phase 2, I will cluster errands, activities and appointments on days when I use the car. On the other days, I will bike commute. I'm going to make the most out of my car days...
Which leads me to #3:
3. On car days, I will truck in fresh clothes for bike days so I don't have to schlep a ton of stuff back and forth. I have a locker room (with a locker) and showers (with towels!) at work. I can just keep my clothes (an extra pair of running shoes) and some toiletries here, and I'm set! The few items I need to carry can go in my jersey or in a small bag in the panniers.
4. I will bike whenever possible on car days. If I have a small trip to make that can be done on bicycle, it shall be done.

Phase 2 is all about temperance--bike commute when realistic but when it's not safe or feasible (I had a Dr's appt. downtown this am, for instance), I will, albeit begrudgingly, use a vehicle.

Other Notes:

• I will tally up money saved while bike commuting, money spent when using the vehicle, and compare to prior months when I did no bike commuting to figure out how much I will save.
• The bike experiment will be for 2 weeks (about 7 non-consecutive days).
• I'm using Strider--Specialized Sirrus--my true commuter bike.
  

Day 1 (take 2) begins tomorrow!

GH Sports Product Review

http://ghsports.com/
Get 20% off by entering the code: TG1153

I don't normally do this but this seemed like an exception. Greg Hind of GH Sports in San Luis Obispo contacted me and offered readers 20% off on products from his site (just enter the code listed above). Sounded pretty cool to me! Check out their site--they have all sorts of apparel and accessories for all your swim, bike, and run needs!

I tried out a pair of GH cycling shorts. Eyeing the thin pad, I was a bit skeptical. However, after trying them out, I'm totally sold! They are hand-stitched and completely seamless. The pad feels gel-like, allowing extra padding with less bulk. There was absolutely no chafing, rubbing, or any other forms of uncomfortable friction...and I'm kind of the princess and the pea when it comes to my bike shorts. Anyway, my bum was happy---2 thumbs up!