San Francisco Women's Marathon Race Report

http://insidenikerunning.nike.com/category/events/nike-womens-marathon/

I awoke at 5 am on Sunday, October 19th to a cold, foggy darkness. Just as predicted, the unusually warm and sunny weather had reverted overnight to typical San Fran chill. Anticipating cold weather, I pulled on my long-sleeved technical top, number 3325 carefully pinned in the center, shorts, gloves, and headband. I strapped on my FuelBelt, with 4 10-ounce bottles containing water+1 scoop of InfinIT each (~125 cals of simple carbs and a low amount of protein+electrolytes). My belt also had a pocket stuffed with a pack (200 cals) of Strawberry CliffBloks and an emergency baggie filled with Thermolytes, Advil, Immodium, GasX, and Tums. It was foggy so I could skip the sunglasses. I probably could skip the visor too but chose to don my Ironman Arizona finisher hat anyway, just for good luck. I poured baby powder into my anti-blister Wright running socks and slipped my feet into my freshly broken in Brooks Adrenaline running shoes, complete with customized orthotics. I forced myself to lace my shoes only once, resisting the urge to tie and re-tie them repeatedly. The first time is always best, I told myself.

By 5:30, I was eating breakfast. Right on schedule. Anticipating my nerves, I had selected several options for breakfast. I knew it would be easier to snack and nibble on several different types of foods with a nervous stomach, rather than force down a large amount of 1 thing. I got down about half of the Instant Maple Brown Sugar oatmeal, most of the lowfat yogurt, several swallows of an Odwalla Mango Tango smoothie, and 1/4 cup of coffee. I felt stuffed. Luckily, that was about 400 cals so I was spot-on. I stretched and then jumped-up-and-down vigorously to stimulate a good pre-race bathroom call. Unfortunately, my stomach overreacted and started spasming. Knowing my finicky stomach all-too-well, I decided to pop 1 Immodium and 1 Tums.

smiling nervously before the start

It was time to line up. It took forever to ride the elevator down to the lobby. The car was packed with women, ready to run. We spilled onto the streets, joining thousands and thousands of women, squishing into position around Union Square. At 6:45, I had to pee again, even though I had gone at least 4x already. Brent looked at me in disbelief and then led me to the Westin in pursuit of a bathroom with a short line. Tons of women were nestled inside the lobby, stretching and staying warm. The bathroom door was locked. Same thing on the 2nd floor. You're kidding me! We headed back to the first floor on the stairs to avoid the elevator wait, only we couldn't get back to the first floor. We were trapped inside some dark, damp alleyway. I was contemplating peeing there when 2 other girls stumbled upon us. "We can't get out!" they exclaimed. Great. I'm going to miss my marathon because I'm trapped inside the stairwell of the Westin. We finally found a door and pushed it open, unsure and not caring whether it was an emergency exit. It wasn't. We found ourselves mysteriously dumped out onto the street. Feeling a little befuddled, I wound my way back towards Union Square.

Don't worry! I still found an empty Port-a-Potty for my final pre-race pee!

By this time I had minutes to spare. I tried pushing my way up to the 10:00 min/mile slot to no avail. I showed other people in the crowd my gray bracelet, confirming that was where I was supposed to be. They looked at me unblinkingly. No one cared. They all had the same problem. Great idea, those bracelets. Worked swell. I realized I was stuck in the 15 min/mile chute. At first I panicked. Then I came to realize it didn't really matter. It was a marathon. I was supposed to start slow. I stripped off my warm-up pants and vest and handed it to Brent, my designated race caddie. He gave me a good-luck kiss and backed away. As the clock counted down, spectators generously made room for us athletes "stuck" on the sidewalk. The airhorn blew and the clock started ticking. Surprisingly, I was pushed forward fairly quickly. As thousands of bodies proceeded down the course, a gush of cold air hit me, making me realize how much we had been buffered by body heat in the chute.

nestled among the masses before the gun goes off

I crossed the timing mat and started running. I had begun my first official marathon. I focused on falling into a gentle rhythm for the first mile. I weaved carefully in-and-out of other runners and walkers, watching my footfalls and conservative with my pace. One woman leaped over me, landing on my foot, nearly tripping herself in the process. She apologized and continued onward. I kept my cool, pretending nothing had happened, eternally grateful that I had not fallen. I was terrified that I would trip and fall over one of the other thousands of pairs of feet on the course, taking myself out of the game. As the course turned onto the Embarcadero at Mile 1, I realized I had to pee again. This wasn't possible! Nasty side effect of the Immodium. Dammit! I veered off to the Port-a-Potties and had a quick go of it. Nope, I wasn't imagining things. I definitely had to pee. Unbe-freakin'-lievable. However, I felt much better afterwards, only adding 1 minute to my time.

The Embarcadero was flat and cool with serene views of the Bay. I was starting to enjoy myself. The miles were flying by. I was running conservatively. Effortlessly. A bit on the slow side but since it was my first marathon, I was trying not to become too obsessed with pace. We headed through Fisherman's Wharf and the tantalizing, warm smell of freshly baked sourdough bread enveloped me. This was juxtaposed sharply with an overpowering smell of fish. Luckily, my stomach was feeling okay; otherwise, I'm sure it would have turned. Then, we passed by Ghirardelli Square, and I was rescued by the sweet, rich aroma of dark chocolate.

The potpourri of scents abruptly ended with a sharp, steep hill, yanking me from my reverie. I tilted slightly forward, and focused on finding a slow running rhythm that didn't tax my breath. My breathing remained slow and even. We headed into the Presidio, and the real climbing began. Long and steep, the road snaked up and up and wound around until it disappeared from sight. I continued my slow, even running rhythm, making sure my breathing remained steady. I didn't realize how hard my legs were working, however. My hip flexors were being put to the test, along with my hamstrings and glutes. At the time, it only felt like a bit of a push. That bit of a push would come back later to bit me in the ass (no pun intended). As I climbed and climbed, my mantra was "What goes up must come down." I repeated this over and over to myself. I focused on staying relaxed and positive. At the top, I drank in the spectacular views of the fog, clinging mystically to the Golden Gate Bridge, and the clusters of San Francisco houses down below, brightly colored against the gray backdrop in a menagerie of colors.

Then, we began our wicked descent. Normally, I love running downhill. Normally, I'm really good at it. Not today. I don't know if it's because I had lost too much quad strength from backing off on the biking. Or because the hills in the marathon were more than I was used to. Maybe the downhills were simply too steep. Regardless, my knees began to ache and my hips cried out in protest as I began the descent. I shuffled from side to side to break up the steep downhill angle. Brent appeared at mile 9, cheering me on. I tried hard not to grimace. I had not expected to be in any pain this early in the game. I tried hard to push mounting thoughts of doubt away.

forcing a smile on the downhill

I reached the breakers by Golden Gate Park and relished in the recovery offered by the flat, straight road. The miles were flying by. I had to work hard on the hills but mentally, the climbs gave my brain something to occupy me with, allowing me to forget about the distance. Even though the hills were sucking the life force from me and draining all strength from my legs, I enjoyed what they did for my mental state of being. Running through Golden Gate Park was wonderful. I gazed at the bison, the tall trees, enveloped in mist, and the delicate orange flowers along the road. The view took my mind off my suffering a bit.

My nutrition was spot-on. I was taking in plenty of InfinIT. The liquid calories settled easily in my stomach in the cool weather. If anything I was ahead of the game. I had planned on drinking 1 bottle every 10K, and 1-2 CliffBloks. By mile 11, I had already downed 2 bottles of InfinIT and consumed 3 CliffBloks, 1/3 of a banana, and a large orange slice. Unfortunately, I was also taking in 1 cup of water at each aid station, as prescribed by my marathon nutrition plan. 1 shot of InfinIT plus 1 cup of water every mile. In the damp, low 50-degree weather, however, this was too much. I was overhydrating. I had to pee. Again. Ugh. I hated stopping because it broke my rhythm. Walking briskly through an aid station to grab a cup of water is one thing. Coming to a complete halt to sit down in a nasty Port-A-Potty is quite another. By mile 12, I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped to pee for the 2nd time.

I was becoming obsessed with my pace. I had spotted the 9:44 min/mile pacer in the Presidio and had delusions of grandeur of staying with him. Of course, I knew this was impossible. I was aiming for a 4:20-4:30 marathon, not a sub-4. But all rationale goes to shit once in race mode. I was trying to catch the pacer. Pretty stupid. After stopping to pee, I tried picking up the pace again. This would have been a suicide mission but luckily, my legs started to ache. This ended up being a blessing in disguise. I popped 1 salt tablet and 1 Advil to dull the screaming pain in my legs. The hills had taken more of a toll than I had anticipated. My legs quieted. I reasoned that if 1 salt tablet was good, 2 must be better, right? Wrong! I popped a 2nd Thermolyte, and my stomach mounted a mutiny to be reckoned with. It began churning, bloating and pouring out acid. It felt like little gremlins were setting off dynamite in my gut. The spasms rose up into my chest. I actually wondered for a moment if I was suffering a heart attack. Great. Now I have to take more crap to compensate for the crap I just took. I knew I couldn't keep going like this. I forced down a Tums and a GasX. I slowed my pace to allow the churning in my stomach to subside. Glancing at my watch, I promised myself if I could just wait it out 5 minutes, just 5, I would feel better. It worked. By mile 14, I had quelled the rebellion. By mile 16, my stomach was my obedient companion once again.

toughing it out at mile 16

My morale, however, was quite another beast. Realizing how much my pace had slowed, I felt the shadows of negativity cloud around me. I'm so slow. I thought I could go faster. This hurts way more than I thought it would. I suck. Why do I do this? Luckily, the thoughts dissipated as quickly as they arose. I pressed onward and tried to go numb. My mind went blank but my legs were screaming in pain. After the stomach-thing, I knew better than to try another Advil. I knew I didn't need salt in this weather as well (I had electrolytes in my InfinIT); salt would also just upset my stomach. I relinquished to have rebellious legs rather than a rebellious gut. It was a trade-off but one I eagerly agreed to. I headed out of Golden Gate Park and turned down the Great Highway. I listened to the gentle roar of the waves crashing on the beach. An icy damp breeze whistling off the ocean cut to my core. The sun refused to penetrate through the gray clouds overhead, and I was cruelly reminded of the typical cold weather San Francisco had brewed up for today. I regretted not having a vest.

one of the "costumes" Brent captured while spectating

Brent came out of nowhere at mile 16 at one of my darkest moments. Mile 16 is my mile 20. Mile 16 is the worst. I have run 16 damn miles. However, I still have 10 more to go. I feel pretty beat up and worn-out but I still have an unfathomable distance to cover. Anticipating this, Brent had strategically placed himself at my low point to faithfully dig me out. He ran next to me for 2 miles. I ranted bitterly about my stomach, my legs, the bumps in the road. "Are the miles getting longer?" I asked. "They should be at this point," he agreed, comforting me slightly. He let me complain and complain. I got it out of my system and fell quiet. Then, he began talking about the costumes he had seen in the race, the other runners he had seen, and the race from his point of view. I listened eagerly. It instantly took my mind off how much pain I was in. By the time I reached mile 18, I was a new woman. I had been rescued valiantly from my funk. He wished me luck and said he would see me at mile 24. Mile 24? Mile 24! That's only 2 miles from the finish, I thought. And I'm almost to mile 19 now. That's only 5 miles away. I can do that, I reasoned. The course broke off and headed towards the zoo and Lake Merced. Okay, I'm going to do a loop around the lake, and I'll see you soon!

reaching the 30K point in renewed spirits

I headed toward the lake in a good frame of mind. I climbed up yet another damn hill and then began the trek of drudgery around the vast lake. I had not realized how large Lake Merced was. "I don't understand," a girl complained worriedly. "We have to run around the whole thing?" Having studied the course map thoroughly and repeatedly, I knew gloomily that we did. I stared unblinkingly at the lake, searching in vain for a road, a bridge, a ferry, a line of evenly placed rocks, anything that might mean the course cut across the lake earlier. No such luck. I blocked it out of my mind and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Mile 20, where is mile 20? I just kept looking for the next mile marker. Mile 20 came and went. This is where it gets hard, I thought.

I was running slowly now. So slowly. But I was running. I had a good rhythm, and the pain in my legs had subsided to a dull ache. I could do a dull ache. I had relinquished hopes of a speedy marathon. Instead, I had a quiet acceptance of my new-found agonizingly slow pace. At least I was running, I thought. I wasn't in pain, and I had a positive frame of mind. I did a mental check. I was ahead of the game nutrition-wise. I was confident I wasn't going to bonk. My energy levels felt good. I had passed mile 20, and I didn't feel that bad. The worst of it is over, I told myself. Every long race has its low point. In this race, it had occurred at mile 13. Knowing that was as bad as it was going to get bolstered my confidence. I felt blissful, almost euphoric, taking comfort in the fact that it was not going to anywhere near as hard as that GI bout at the halfway point.

Mile 21 passed and a spectator mentioned cheered me on. "Way to get up that hill!" Hill? I hadn't even realized I was climbing. The slope had been gradual but persistent and subtly evil for the past 2 miles. That explained my slow pace. The wicked false flat phenomenon had raised its ugly head yet again! The road curved to the left and was sharply slanted to the side. Maybe it wasn't sharply slanted but at this late stage of the game, it felt unfathomably steep. Stabbing pain shot through my right knee, and I limped a few steps, relieved when the pain subsided. Sharp pain like that would have stopped me dead in my tracks if it had persisted. Just when I thought I could take the tilt no longer, the road straightened out and flattened. I reveled in the straightaway, trying to allow my poor, abused legs recover.

Mile 22 had yet another hill. I couldn't believe it. Someone had sadistically put that hill here on purpose. I just knew it. The course director was probably sipping on a pina colada right, laughing sinisterly. However, I had completed traversing the never-ending Lake Merced. Somehow, I had circled its great impossible expanse. The aid station handed out Ghirardelli chocolates. I love chocolate. I took one greedily. However, there was no way I wanted one now. I think I took one more out of having something to do, to play with, to take my mind off things. I unwrapped and nibbled on a corner. Yuck. Clearly, that wasn't going to work. I stuck it in my FuelBelt for later.

At this point, I had my glorious moment of grandiose confusion. Everyone experiences this moment at some point on a long run. For me, on this course, on this day, it was at mile 22.5. I had finished circling the lake but hadn't realized it yet. All I cared about was getting to the top of that hill. It was the last hill on the course but that realization hadn't yet dawned on me. I saw other runners heading out to the lake as I wound my way back. It was the intersection point. I had been envious of the runners finishing their loop on my way out. Now, I couldn't recognize that the runners on the other side were where I had just come from. I thought it was where I was going. Some sort of unexpected out-and-back? Frantically, I tried to go over the course map again in my head. I had studied it intently, and I didn't remember an extra out-and-back. Had they changed the course on me at the last minute? Would I have to run up another hill? How much longer was this torture to go on? I was suddenly envious of the runners heading the other way, believing they were farther up ahead on the course than I.

All of a sudden, I shot out again on the Great Highway. I was heading downhill towards the final straightaway which led towards the finish line. In a flash, I knew exactly where I was, and I was exuberant. Extremely relieved. I was just where I wanted to be. I passed mile 23. I could run 3 more miles. I was going to finish this thing. I grabbed a final cup of water at the last aid station and some Luna Moons. They were delicious.

mile 26. almost there!

Brent rejoined me at mile 24. I felt great. My legs were numb, and I was in the homestretch. I could see the finish now. 3 more stoplights. "I think I got it from here," I assured him. I passed mile 25 and the excitement within me began to build. 1 more mile, only 1 more mile. I can run 1 more mile. I glanced at my watch. 4:30. I picked up the pace. It hurt but I knew I could run just a little faster for 1 more mile. I wanted to finish in 4:40. Running a 10 minute mile had never been so hard in my life! I felt like I was flying, chugging along at a 4-minute mile, not eking out a 10 minute one. I didn't care. I was happy to be finishing the thing in such good shape. I headed into the chute and ran as hard as I could across the finish line. Such sweet, sweet victory! 4:40:04. I'll take it.

about to cross the finish!

A really HAWT fireman in a tux handed me a Tiffany's box. I unwrapped it and put on the necklace. I haven't taken it off since.

proudly displaying my Tiffany's box

wearing my finisher's necklace

happy to be done, in front of the windmill. Brr! It's cold!

Course Map and Results:
http://results.eternaltiming.com/event/NWM2008

Here are my splits:
5k 0:31:58; 10:17 min/mi
10k 1:03:39; 10:14 min/mi
15k 1:36:33; 10:21 min/mi
13.1 Miles 2:13:12; 10:10 min/mi
25k 2:43:19; 10:30 min/mi
30k 3:17:27; 10:35 min/mi
35k 3:52:04; 10:40 min/mi
40k 4:26:37; 10:43 min/mi
Finish 4:40:04

Pace: 10:41 min/mi avg

Ready to Run

I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I did all the training. I just don't feel like I did. I guess I just worked a lot harder for my Ironman than I did for this marathon. But now it's Race Week, and I'm in full taper. It must be working--I'm nervous and jittery. I hope it goes well. Tomorrow, I fly to San Francisco to race in the Nike Women's San Francisco Marathon (Sunday). It will be hilly and hard. Gulp.

When I started training for this, I went a little nuts. Full of energy and still peaking after Ironman Arizona in April, I hit it verrry hard for a few months, trying to push my limits. For the first 9 weeks or so, I trained like a triathlete. I refused to give up my bike and swim and trained with Brent and other IMAZ-November buddies, in addition to my marathon-training. This proved to be too much for me. After my "Death Swim", I was a broken woman. After the Camp Pendleton Sprint Triathlon in August, it hit me: I was overtrained.

I took some well-deserved time off (weeks 16-19) before focusing specifically on the marathon. This turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. I backed off on my bike and swim, using it solely as cross-training. In other words, I trained for the marathon like a runner, not a triathlete, which is probably what I should have done in the first place. I also upped my weights and Yoga. Since I had reached 18 miles for my long run before taking the time off, I still had a huge running base to draw from. I started back (week 18) with a Prep week, only running 10 miles for a long run. But the next week, realizing time was running out, I upped my long run to 18 miles, probably not the wisest idea. But I ran very slowly, stretched and took an ice bath afterwards, and escaped from the workout injury-free. This put me back on track. I knocked out my 20 mile run the next week, sandwiched in the Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon (which I used as a quick tempo run) the week after that, and followed this up with a final 20-mile long run. I began a gradual 3-week taper. However, I only backed off of my long run in taper week 1, shortening the 20 miles to 16 miles but focused on adding speedwork to the 16-miler. These last 2-weeks, I've been tapering pretty hard, focusing on rest and recovery. I feel like a great big lazy-ass. Jittery, full of energy, just where I should be when a taper is in full effect. The purpose of my workouts now are to loosen my muscles, remind my feet how to move, and sleep well at night. So there it is folks. My marathon training plan. I guess I did the work. I did several 16s and 18s and 2 20s. I just hope my body remembers how to do 26.2 on race day.



It's been a long season. This will be my final race for 2008, my final race as a 30-year old. To be honest, I'm looking forward to my off season. I need the rest. 2009 is already promising to be a killer race season.

TCSDs Barely Legal HIM--Other Accounts

In the last post, I gave a race report from the director's point of view. Now, I'm giving you the account from the particpants' point of view.
Take a look:

"As I readied for the ocean swim I noticed Gina Thomas very nervous and undecided as to weather she would even attempt the swim or not. I volunteered to be her swim buddy and she bravely decided to give it a go. Two years ago I was Gina's swim buddy on one of her first ocean swims in Carlsbad and we seemed to work well together. So, it was a natural for me to swim buddy with her again (see the third picture down on your blog of the ocean pictures - that's me standing between the two women).
It took some work to coax Thomas back to help out. He was raring to go and wanted to swim the entire course. Being the accomplished swimmer he is, he saw no problem with the waves and initially felt I would have no problem helping out both Gina and the other gal (Tracy). I reeled him in and upon his return he faithfully stayed by the other gal just as I did with Gina until both women concluded the surf (waves coming in at 3-5 second intervals), and the rolling 10-12' swells felt a little like being on a roller coaster. Both women felt that the waves and surge were a bit too much to take on that day.
It takes a lot of courage to go into strong surf when you're scared and every fiber of your being tells you not to do it. My hat is off to both ladies for making the brave attempt that they did directly confronting their fears. But, ocean swimming can only feel comfortable after making it a routine and having at least a few dozen swims under your belt.
After Thomas and I helped both ladies back to shore we decided to swim to the first buoy just to get in at least a little swim practice. We hung out at the first buoy for a while noticing how strong the surge was moving us Southward at the rate of nearly 1 meter a second. In 15 seconds we'd drifted almost 15 meters South of the optic orange buoy. As a result of the surge, the returning swimmers returned on a path considerably Southeast from the line they took going out to the white buoy turn-around point. This gives you an idea of how much harder the returning leg of the swim must've been for those completing the entire course than the initial Southward leg. After watching the leading 7 swimmers round the final buoy, Thomas and I headed in to the beach to prepare for the next leg of the event."
--Steve Pierce

"Great race/event! Most fun I’ve had training all year, even the crazy swim was fun! The ukulele was a great touch. Someone at work was commenting today on the wacky people in grass skirts on the 56 bike path wondering what it was all about. Thanks to everyone for putting it together." --Dean Luvisa

"Just a quick note to thank Rachel and all of the great volunteers who made yesterday's Barely Legal Half IM so much fun. There was a bunch of really great people manning the check-in and aid stations who sacrificed their own training (and sleep) Saturday morning so we could race, er get a good work out in. The ukeleli at Ellen Browning Scripps park was a great touch and got us through the last couple of miles of the half marathon leg with smiles on our faces. Pizza at the end was delicious too as well as the granola and everything! So, a great big Triclub thank you to everyone in the grass skirts that made the day so much fun!
BTW, I had to go back to the Shores this morning to complete my swim leg from yesterday. I bagged the swim approaching the first bouy as I was getting pretty bounced around in the stormy conditions. Much, much, much better this morning. Thanks! "
--Rob Lindbloom

"I just want to give a big thank you to Rachel for putting this together! I was having such a great time, I podiumed in "third" out of the swim (if you think I cut it short, well..you're right), and went out riding with Steve Pierce. Unfortunately ten miles into it on the bike path, I collided into a pole. Thank you to Steve and Jim Fix for caring for me until Rachel could pick me up and then thanks to Thomas Johnson for taking me to the ER until my best friend/training partner Wendi could be there. I was definitely in God's hands as I came out with with a shoulder and hand contusions, some road rash and there is a tendon in my shoulder that is a bit stretched. I made sure all the doctors knew I was doing IMAZ in six weeks and they couldn't see any reason why I still couldn't do it as long as I make sure to follow up with therapy. It was great to get back to the Shores and let everyone know I was okay (they took pictures to document...in fact, didn't we take a picture of me with the pole?).

Thank you for the nice emails and phone calls! I'm grateful that God surrounded me with wonderful to care for me :)
--Gina Thomas

"Wow, what a day!!! As a newbie at Half Ironman distance races, I was extremely excited about the opportunity to compete in a race, which would be FREE, and give me the practice I needed for the upcoming Silverman Half Ironman in November.
I am very new to swimming, and enjoy the Thursday night DeAnza Cove Bay swims with Jonathan. I was thouroghly unprepared for the 6-8 ft. waves of LJ Shores the morning of the race! I would have never even attempted the water, had Thomas Johnson not encouraged me, and promised to stay by my side. After ten minutes of battling the waves, and Thomas "saving my life," I felt forced to retreat. One day, I will return to the scene of the crime.....under better conditions!
Mounting my bike was a joy, as I love the planned route, and ride inland-coast-inland weekly. My fellow TCSD bike buddy, James and I, took off as the weather warmed, and the sun warmed our backs. Unfortunately, before the half way point, I overcompensated as we shared the bike lane, and experienced my first "eat the street" collision with James. He stayed up - I tumbled. We were only two miles from CVS, so James bandaged me up, and we continued the ride. Thank goodness for the awesome volunteers - there to refuel and encourage us. Back at LJ Shores, I learned that Gina had been taken to the hospital, and I thanked my lucky stars that my injuries were only major flesh wounds: elbows, knees, hip, fat lip....still able to ride and run!
As we began our run, I told James,"I almost drowned in the ocean, I ate it on the bike....we really need to watch out for cars during this run!" The well-marked route reminded us of how much time, effort, and energy Rachel had put into making this event BETTER than a Half Ironman I would have normally paid over $100 for!!! There were great fuel stops, encouraging and motivating volunteers, awesome food and drink.....
and although we finished last, I still earned the 3rd place woman's title, and earned my cool mask at the finish line!
Thank you Rachel and all of the wonderful volunteers for a memorable and FUN event! I can't wait to sign up again next year!!!
--Tracy Cohen-Peranteau

Watch the video Mehrdad put together!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EICsRdGjEc

TCSDs Inaugural Barely Legal Half Ironman

I'm not really sure what possessed me but I decided to play race director for the day. On Saturday, I put on TCSD's (www.triclubsandiego.org) inauguaral Barely Legal Half Ironman. I wanted a half ironman challenge that would be free to athletes with a Kona theme since it was the same day as Ironman Hawaii. I thought it would be great for both seasoned veterans looking for a final workout before Ironman Arizona or Florida, athletes wanting a final end-of-season event without breaking the bank, or beginner athletes wanting preparation for a half ironman race.

After much planning, many e-mails, and even a volunteer's meeting 2 weeks prior, we were ready to go. I had raided TCSD's storage shed and borrowed lots of supplies and the rest of the supplies were donated or borrowed from the participants and volunteers. I also had t-shirts made up (see logo above). Afterall, it's not an event unless you have t-shirts! The night before, Brent and I drove the bike course, hanging up signs and chalking the road (2 other volunteers did the run course). I was exhausted by the end. I never realized how long 56 miles was before!

The volunteers gathered in the parking lot at La Jolla Shores Saturday morning at 5:00 am. It was dark and we couldn't see a thing. Luckily, a few of us had brought flashlights. Braving the chilly, damp morning and air and torrential WIND (probably about 30 mph--reminded me of Ironman Arizona--hmmm), we set up the registration table.

Katrina, Bethany, and Cal at registration. It's dark and COLD!!!

Athletes started pulling into the "transition area" at 5:30. They used their parking spot for transition and registered at our table, decked out in a grass skirt to commemerate Ironman Hawaii. All the volunteers sported leis and grass skirts too. Each athlete signed in, got a number, a map and route slip and got ready to swim.

It was WINDY. The surf was huge. The lifeguards tried valiantly to drop the buoys but they kept getting dragged ashore. Their efforts were to no avail. Thinking fast, I changed the swim course, using fixed buoys already firmly planted at the Shores. I had to estimate the distance since these buoys were much farther out than I had wanted. I gathered the athletes and gave the pre-course talk, discussing the swim carefully: swim with a buddy, get out early if you need to, check out with the swim timer when you need to, etc., etc. The lifeguards positioned themselves courageously by the buoys on their boards (I don't know how they navigated themselves out there and braved those waters for an hour) in the tsunami-like conditions. The designated swim buddy (TJ), readied himself by some unsure swimmers. I blew the airhorn, started the timer, and they were off.

me--discussing the swim course

We have to swim in that?

Everyone slowly walked (no one ran) into the surf. The swimmers struggled to make it out past the breakers. They were tough and brave in those waters, churning like the spin cycle on a washing machine. A few of us stood ashore and watched their progress nervously. As each swimmer exited, we checked them out. I was relieved when the final swimmer came in. My flock had returned. They took their time changing into their bike clothes and taking in fluids and calories at the transition aid station before proceeding. Onto the bike.

slowly entering the churning waters at the start

the swimmers, engulfed in waves

the sentries, watching the flock carefully. Everyone made it back safely. Phew!

--exiting the VERY "rough" swim

another survivor!

Brent did it too (the whole thing, of course!)

Thomas (TJ) Johnson, dedicated swim buddy. Thanks, TJ!

After everyone started the bike, I hopped into my truck and started SAG support. I was hoping my services would not be needed. My plan was to drive the bike course, help out at the aid stations, and cheer at the turn-arounds. At first, my plan went accordingly. The athletes fought horrid wind on the course, which was also extremely hilly as well. The final report was 7,401 feet of climbing. Add some winds and tada! A bike course a'la Rachel-style!

--on the bike course

--Dean, Brent, and Lorenzo coming to the aid station

As I was cruising along, I got the call. Gina had crashed into a pole. Her shoulder was injured, and she needed to get to the ER. Dammit! I turned my truck around sped down the 56 at 90, hoping to escape a lurking cop. She had crashed in a hard-to-reach place of the bike path. I convinced the security guard to let me into the fancy, private residential area and snaked my way around until I found her. She had been riding with a group, and they had done a great job of taking care of her. Except for her shoulder, she seemed in pretty good shape. Her bike was okay too. We loaded up her and her bike, and TJ took her to the ER. (Luckily, nothing was broken and she is still expected to race IMAZ in 6 weeks. Phew!)

Gina with Steve and her bike after the crash. Luckily, her injuries are minor.

I slowly made my way back to transition and helped check the athletes in after the bike. They helped themselves to some fluids in transition and were off to the run. The run course was not for wimps either. The report is that it had 1,142 ft. of climbing (more than the La Jolla Half Marathon). Phew! We had 2 aid stations set up for them, mile 2 and the turn-around. The mile 2 station was also conveniently set up at mile 12. Plus, even though it was hilly, the course wound through the residential streets of La Jolla, with scenic views of the Pacific. I figured that if you're going to suffer, you better have something pretty to look at.

The mile 12 aid station volunteers gave me the call as the athletes headed toward the finish line. We all tensed up in excitement. As Dean came down the finish "chute", we held up the tape for him to break. He did the limbo as he crossed the "finish line", constructed out of traffic cones, brooms, a noodle, and lots of balloons. Each finisher got to break the tape, get a photo finish, and a finisher lei (a'la Ironman Hawaii style). Also, the top 3 male and female finishers got Halloween masks! Everyone got pizza too (which I got half off because they lost my order and delivered it an hour late).

Dean crossing the finish line limbo-style.

Dean, sporting his pirate mask (top male finisher).
Johan and Ray coming down the "chute"

--top 3 female finishers (Tracy, Claudia, and Paula), posing at the "finish line"

All-in-all, it was a very rewarding experience. There were some bumps in the road, which forced me to think quickly on my feet but despite it all, the event went very smoothly. Everyone carried an enormous amount of positive energy with them. The volunteers were AMAZING!!! And the athletes were awesome too. Thanks everyone!

Course Details:

Bike

http://sdbikeroutes.blogspot.com/2008/10/tcsd-barely-legal-him-course.html

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2264149

Run

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2267671

http://trigirlrunning.blogspot.com/2008/10/tcsd-barely-legal-him-course.html

The Run with Runs

It's been awhile. I've been super busy--more on that in future posts. I'm officially in taper now (gulp). Only 2 weeks to go. I'm breaking in my new "marathon" pair of running shoes as planned. This week, I'm reducing my mileage by 50% (last week was 25%). I got my taper cold last week so everything is right on schedule.

Two weekends ago, I visited my lil' sis in Sacramento. Since I had completed my final 20-miler the weekend before, I decided to go 16 on the American River Trail http://www.saccycle.com/bikewaymaps/map6.htm. My goal was to run the second half faster than the first half to up the intensity and get used to race pace. After last weekend's stomach problems forced an agonizing slow run, I was hoping an increased pace would be a breeze. Unfortunately, my stomach reared it's ugly head yet again. When will I learn that slamming a coffee and stuffing myself with a large breakfast is not a good idea before a long run?

The first 2 miles were okay. The temps were steadily rising but still cool (Sacramento was HOT!!! In the 100s. Ugh). The American River was expansive and serene to our south. Myriads of cyclists whizzed by on the bike path, pushing the runners off to the side. Luckily, there was a narrow dirt path, which I prefer anyway, but the cyclists were very reluctant to budge an inch for us runners. What's up with that?

A few miles into the run, even though we were going nice and slow, I had the urge to, well, go. I looked frantically around for a bathroom. I saw none. I kept running. The urge grew. Tremendously. I knew it was going to be a bush or bust. I hurriedly motioned to Brent that I'd be right back and dove off the trail into the bushes to find a good spot. I unwittingly disturbed a herd of grazing deer, who took off running every which way. The cacophony of crashing through the trees must've really thrown Brent for a loop. "What did she eat? She must be having a really tough go of it!" I did my business (although the only available leaves had thorns--ouch!), and we resumed running. I felt SO much better.

Of course, a mile up the trail, I stumbled upon...a bathroom. DOH! Seeing the bathroom stimulated my urges yet again. I stopped, again, to take care of business. Sigh. How frustrating! We kept running. I felt better. We finished the first 8 miles, and I waved goodbye to Brent, turning back around to do another loop. Only 8 more to go.

Unbelievably, I had the urge to go....again. Dammit! I was determined to make it to the bathroom, 3 miles down the path. I've never run 3 miles so fast in my life! Somehow, I made it to the bathroom and avoided the bush.

Ah, much better. My pace slowed after that. Who knew? The best way to PR is to race to the bathroom! I hit the final turn-around and picked up the pace. The temps had risen considerably but I only had 4 miles to go. I was running faster and faster, and it felt sooo good.

I finished in a blissful state. It was damn hot but I had done it. Time for an ice bath! I shaved 10 minutes off that 2nd loop. Not sure if it was running to the bathroom or trying to beat the heat but I had accomplished my goal of negative splitting the 16-miler.

Checking In

Still here....

Taz-enjoying one of his favorite activities...EATING!!! (Sleeping is his second).

My life is actually the most balanced it's been in a long time. Weird, huh? Who ever thought marathon training would be so "easy"? No, but really, although it's been wonderful to focus on my passion for running, I really miss biking and swimming. I've still been swimming and biking 1-2x/week but the main focus is for cross-training. I actually love biking and swimming for the purpose of cross-training; it's much more enjoyable when the pressure is off. It's all about the run right now (4x/week and weights 2x/week). Plus, I'm getting faster just by doing it more. Miraculous!

Last Thursday was our club's final Aquathlon of the season (sniff). I had a blast. I felt very confident in the water and had one of my fastest swim's ever (15:17 for 1,000 m). It's amazing what a favorable current, catching the draft, and a wetsuit will do! Plus, I swim so much harder on those things than I ever do in my Master's sprint sets. As always, the swim of TCSD's Aquathlon was rougher than my Ironman swim. One guy didn't just bump into my foot as I passed but actually grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me backwards. I know who you are, even with your goggles and wetsuit, mister! And, I know where you live! I can't believe how aggressive everyone gets! Two other times, someone came and sideswiped me, knocking me off the swimmer in front of me and stealing my draft. I'm going have to up the ante a little on these swims. No more missus nice girl! Afterwards, we all joke, eat, and pat each other on the back even though we just pummeled each other in the surf.

I allowed myself to catch my breath and settle into a nice rhythm during the first 1/2 mile of the 3 mile beach run following the swim. I felt gooood. I decided to see how hard I could push it. I ran faster and faster and faster each lap. I tried to no avail to catch Brent, just a hair in front of me, although I was gaining on him at each turn-around. He crossed the finish a few seconds before me. If only I'd had 100 more yards! Someone has gotten really fast on his swim!
Brent--beating me out of the water by over a minute.

me--trying to catch him on the run. Soooo close! Oh, well. At least my running form is spot on! Toe runner, anyone?

Celebrity sighting--Jessie Stensland--at the Aquathlon
Go Jessie! http://www.gojessi.com/site4.aspx

I was still really happy with my run. I felt calm and in control. I was able to recover from the swim very quickly and negative split each lap. Fantastic speed workout! Overall, I finished in ~38 minutes, about 15 for the swim and 23 for the run, putting me at about 7:30 min/miles (similar to my 5K pace). I'll take it!

On Saturday, Brent and I slapped on our FuelBelts and took off for our 20 mile run. This was to be my final long run before the marathon. Unfortunately, my stomach had acted up pretty violently the night before, requiring 3 Immodium before I could go back to sleep. I suffer from IBS and sometimes, I am a prisoner to my stomach. I was in pretty bad shape Sat. am. I popped 1 more Immodium and some Tums. My stomach was still bothering me. I had a hard time getting breakfast down; I simply couldn't get the calories in. I was starting off in a hole--tired, dehydrated and calorie-depleted. Oh, and did I mention my stomach was still bothering me? I came this close (index finger and thumb almost touching) to bailing before we even left the house.

We set off. Instantly, I was in pain. My stomach lurched with each stride. I wouldn't allow myself to think about 20 miles. I couldn't fathom it. I decided to give it a few miles to see if my stomach would settle. It didn't. Plus, I was sluggish and tired. I slowed my pace. At mile 3, I almost quit. I came so close. But 3 miles seemed a long way to walk back. Ridiculous thought, actually, because 10 miles back is even longer. But I kept going. For some reason, I kept going. At some point, my stomach downgraded from a stabbing, level 8 to a persist ant but duller level 5. I could tolerate it. I was forcing down the liquid and calories too, much to my stomach's dismay. However, after 30 seconds, the nutrients actually seemed to placate the beast. Around mile 6 I felt as good as I was going to feel...numb.

At mile 10, we turned around. At first, I was jubilant because we were headed back. Then, I became worried. We still had a long way to go. And I was tired. So tired. But my stomach had fallen silent. At mile 16, my stomach woke up from it's nap and started back with a vengeance. It was a level 7, stabbing combined with nausea. This time, it was harder to tolerate. I was so tired. But there was only one way back to the car. I focused on keeping my legs moving. I put my head down and ran at a blazing 11 min/mile.

Somehow, we made it back. It was over. I had done it. I've never had a run go so badly for so long. Normally, I enjoy much more of my runs. This time had been different. The entire 20 miles had been agonizing. Each footstep had brought pain. I figured that if I could run for 20 miles while suffering like that, race day will be cake. At least I hope so...

My short runs this week have been wonderful. My stomach has calmed down, and I recovered very quickly from my 20-miler (thanks to my ice bath, massage, and stretching). I ran a 5 mile tempo on Tuesday that was nothing short of orgasmic. Wednesday was a hard track workout (800, 1200, 800, 1200, 800) but I gutted through it. I can't wait for my trail run today! I have a 16-miler this weekend in Sacramento (I'm visiting my sister--yippee!), and then I will be in official taper mode. Only 3 weeks until race day. Ack! I feel oddly refreshed and excited, not at all what I'm used to when beginning a taper (compared to the completely overtrained, dead Ironman training). Is there something wrong? Am I really fit enough for this?

--finishing the half-marathon at Heartbreak Ridge 2 weeks ago

Olympic Brick--My Favorite Workout

I got to do my favorite all-time workout yesterday. I hadn't done it for awhile. Fantastic! Check it!

The Olympic Brick:
Bike 15-30 miles
followed by 3-6 mile run
To be done at tempo, or better yet, race pace (high intensity)

My favorite place to do this workout is Fiesta Island for the bike, then run south along the east side of Mission Bay for the run. I do 1 warm-up lap around Fiesta (4.2 miles each), followed by 3-4 higher intensity, steady-state (time trial-ish) laps at race pace (or negative split each lap). Fiesta is great because you are guranteed a head wind for half of the island, giving you great torture into the wind. However, the torture only lasts 2 miles. Then you get 2 miles recovery. I can handle any sort of headwind for 2 miles! I like this brick because it's longer than most (especially the run). When I'm all done, I can record a full bike AND run into my training log so I feel like I'm getting the most bang for my buck. It does take a lot out of me though so I don't recommend it more than once or twice a month (unless, of course, you're a superstar).

Happy Training!

What's YOUR favorite workout?

Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon Race Report

http://www.camppendletonraces.com/half.html

I felt rested. The morning was calm, cool and overcast. I was ready to race. Since I had run 20 the weekend before, my goal was to go fast and hard--do tempo for 13.1 miles. Plus, I had heard this half-marathon was hilly, hard and off-road. Perfect training for my upcoming hilly marathon in San Fran.

We started off conservatively towards the back. I weaved in and out of runners, gaining confidence. We quickly turned off the main road and onto a packed dirt path. Fun! I had never raced "off-road" before. The first mile was relatively flat and slightly downhill. I fell into a comfortable rhythm. Suddenly, a hill appeared before us, looming ominously. Ahh, this is why they call it the Heartbreak Ridge, I thought. Feeling a burst of energy, I hit it hard. I leaped up the hill, gasping for breath at the top. You're going too hard! It's 13.1 miles! I ignored the voice of reason in my head and kept on pushing. Reaching the downhill on the other side, I let my feet fly on the descent. Wicked fun. Mile 2 flew by almost unnoticed. Except for a few bumps in the path, most of the way out was slightly downhill to very downhill. This will be hard on the return, I warned myself. My turnover was very rapid, and I was concerned I wouldn't be able to hold the pace. But it was just a half. Just a half? Did I just say that?

I reached the turn-around, grabbing water at the aid station. I had already downed my 2 FuelBelt bottles. Wow! I've really increased the amount I eat and drink when I run! That's good. Very good. Bonk repellent. I had prepared myself mentally for the return trip--all uphill. I refused to back down. I would not slow my pace. No slowing allowed! I focused on maintaining a quick turnover, working diligently at eating away at the false flat. Mile 7 came and went. Is my watch lying? Was it my imagination or was I actually picking up the pace? I bounded up hill after hill. After hill. Each one was fairly short but steep. My legs were burning now. Hips aching. I ignored the pain and focused on good running form. Use the glutes, Luke. I eagerly zipped down the descents. However, not as quickly now. The downhills were beginning to hurt. Worse than the ascents.

At mile 10.5 the final big hill stood between me and the finish line. I ran up it as hard as I could, using everything I had. I was gasping at the top. I grabbed a cup of water at the aid station and tried in vain to down it, pouring half of it on my shoes. Doh! Quickly recovering, I excitedly began the steep descent. I love downhill running, right? But it was now mile 11. And my legs were burning. And the downhill was steep. Very steep. As I descended, all I felt was pain. Searing pain in my hips and fatiguing quads. Then my knees. I am going to hurt myself, I thought. I tried to slow but this only resulted in more pain. Instinctively, I began zig-zagging down the hill, minimizing the steep incline. I tried to stay light on my feet, landing on my toes, quick, rapid turnover. The zig-zagging and intense focus on my running form helped immensely, and the pain subsided. I found my rhythm again.

I reached the road and began picking up speed for the final mile. I was exuberant at how much I had left in the tank. I felt like I could go forever! I zoomed across the finish line with a big grin on my face. That was tough! I was covered from my head to toe in dirt, grime, sweat, and dust. My eyelashes were coated in a fine layer of amber-colored silt. My legs were burning, and I felt wonderful. I got a great workout and had a ton of fun in the process. Trail running rocks! This race was a good test of my fitness. I was excited that I felt fresh enough to use it as a tempo run and go as hard as I could muster. A perfect milestone in my marathon training. Next week is my final long run before I start to taper down. I think I will be ready....

Time: 1:54 (8:46 min/mi)

Thoughts on My Long Run

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2245838
Miles 0-1: This will be fun. I haven't seen my running buds in awhile. Plus, we get to run through the Lagoon (San Elijo)! And it's overcast and dewy and cool. Whoo-hoo!
Miles 1-2: Look at that great blue heron! Wow!
Miles 2-3: Quick feet, quick feet. Across, across, zig, zag. Gosh, this is a steep descent! Sure is fun though... Deep sand, ugh. Flat feet, light, quick, short steps. Is this deep sand stuff ever going to end?
Miles 3-4: So green. Like a jungle. Is this still San Diego? Ah, must be getting close to Rancho Santa Fe, land of lush gardens. Watch out for that log!
Miles 4-5: I remember running up this road at the end of the San Dieguito Half Marathon. Ah, the park. Quick rest stop and regroup.
Miles 5-6: Back in the Lagoon again. I have my rhythm. I'm quieter now, chatting less, and listening more. Very peaceful.
Miles 6-7: The sand seems less deep now for some reason. Ugh, but those descents on the way out are now very steep ascents. Okay, okay. Just keep running. Keep running. Whoo! That was a good one!
Miles 7-8: Climbing over rocks now. Is this an obstacle course? Is that girl going the other way really not going to stop? Hey! It's single-track! She's going to push me off the cliff! Jeez, that was close.
Miles 8-9: Up one last steep hill. Ugh, that was the worst one yet! We're back at the Cove already? Okay, say goodbye. Everyone is stretching. My run has just begun.
Miles 9-10: Time to head south along the coast. Trail part over with. Road should be easier now. I feel great. Like I really have just begun. Can't believe I've run 10 miles already.
Miles 10-11: What's with all the people just south of Solana Beach? God, Dog Beach is crowded! A dog festival? It's bedlam. In-and-out, in-and-out. Look at all the dogs!
Miles 11-12: Is Del Mar really all uphill? I guess this should be pretty with the nice houses and scenic ocean but my hips and knees really don't like the slope of the road. Maybe if I run in the middle of the road...ack! Car! Doomed to the sidewalk.
Miles 12-13: Ah, downhill. Look at the ocean! So pretty. Those waves look huge. Much-needed brief water stop at Torrey Pines State Beach.
Miles 13-14: Will this hill ever end? At least I'm headed back. No problem; I'll just slow down. Did that old guy just pass me? Are you kidding me? He's limping! How embarrassing!
Miles 14-15: Thank God that hill is over with. That stupid old guy stopped at the top. Is he really cheering? Don't be so jubilant, old man. I'm still going. Ah, now for a long, gentle downhill in Del Mar.
Miles 15-16: This downhill doesn't feel as good as I thought it would. Hips ache, knees ache. Maybe they will go numb. Maybe I can pretend they're numb.
Miles 16-17: That's better. Stomach acting up a little. Too many Cliff Bloks and too much InfinIT. I feel....gassy. Okay, that's better. Dammit! Was that cyclist really right behind me? Whatever, dude. I've been out here running all day. I just don't care anymore.
Miles 17-18: Another hill? You have to be kidding me! And another old person passing me. I have no ego left at all. So many dogs! Look at all the dogs catching frisbees in the water! They look so happy. Very cool.
Miles 18-19: I'm almost done. I think I'm going to make it. My feet are shuffling. Focus on picking them up from the hips. Use the glutes. It's all in the glutes. Hey, my pace actually increased! It worked!
Miles 19-20: Where's the Solana Vista intersection? Wait, why am I passing B&L already? I've already passed Solana Vista? Where am I? Jeez, I'm kind of out of it. Okay, almost done, almost done. I'm going to make it. I'm going to make it!
The finale: I did it! That was tough! Time for chocolate milk, ice bath, and nap. How the hell am I going to run 6.2 more miles on race day?

My Support Network

I spend so many miles out on the road alone but I'm never lonely. In fact, I think I'm pretty lucky. I have a wonderful support network. I spent Labor Day weekend with my parents in Los Gatos (norCal). Upon getting home, my dad shows me his latest gift for me (my parents are always showering me with gifts)--a personalized license plate. I'm normally not the personalized license plate kind of gal but this time, it was different. #1--It was from my mom and dad. #2--It read: FEGRRL (you may need a periodic table for those of you who haven't thought about chemistry since high school). Needless to say, was pretty touched. I can't wait to show you guys pics when I pick up the plates!

Iron - Periodic Table

Then my dad asked if I had replaced the bike I had stolen. I mentioned that I wanted to get one to keep at their place for my visits to norCal. He wanted to take me bike shopping and go 50-50! I ended up running out of time on this trip so we're saving the bike shopping for next time. Visiting my parents is so awful!

I proceeded to tell my folks about getting into Ironman Canada. Next thing I know, they've booked a room at the hotel where I'm staying (yes, I already have my hotel--Penticton is selling out of lodging FAST!). They're going to cheer me on next year! My dad also cheered me on at IMAZ in April. I cannot describe how much that meant to me. Knowing my dad and Brent were there waiting for me really pushed me forward in my darkest moments like a beacon of light leading me out of the tunnel.

When I woke up Saturday morning for my 18-mile run on the Los Gatos Creek Trail , my dad dragged himself from his deep slumber to make us coffee. He rode his bike alongside me for the first few miles, stopping at Vasona Park where he read the paper and waited over two-and-a-half hours for me to return. "I was just starting to get worried," he said when I returned. I was floating on an awesome runner's high so I motioned him to follow me home. His company bolstered me through the many miles on that run. Afterwards, he took me to 7-11 and got 2 bags of ice for my ice bath.

Sunday, he took me to the pool at his gym and read the paper by the pool while I swam laps. Then, he made coffee and pancakes for me before whisking me to the airport to catch my flight. My mom left a little note for me in my bag: "I heart Fe girl". (Now hanging in my office). Reluctantly, I flew back home. It's hard to leave when your parents are smothering you with attention!

I am very lucky. Having a good support crew helps pick me up when I'm down and encourages me to push myself beyond what I thought was capable. Both of my parents support me in everything I do. I also happen to have a fantastic boyfriend who is one of my biggest cheerleaders (second only to my mom). He also has a spot reserved in the cheering section for Ironman Canada (and my upcoming marathon). You know you have an awesome boyfriend when he diligently goes on poop patrol duty after your 4 dirty little bunnies while you're out of town!

TCSD Ironman Interview

Not to toot my own horn (okay, maybe a little) but I'm in this month's newsletter (http://www.triclubsandiego.org/)! Check it!

IRONMAN CONVERSATION WITH CRAIG ZELENT
WWW.TRICLUBSANDIEGO.ORG
I had the pleasure recently of talking triathlon with TCSD member
Rachel Richards. Rachel completed her first Ironman this April in
Arizona with a time of 14:40:47. Please join me as we get to know
a very special lady.
Craig: What was your sports background before triathlon?

Rachel: I was heavily involved in equestrian sports from the age of 9 through graduate school. Sounds completely unrelated to triathlon, I know, but I have stumbled upon other pros that also ride/rode horses
(Michellie Jones and Sam McGlone, anyone?) so I guess it’s not that uncommon. There are some transferable skills, for instance, overcoming your fears and having confidence on a large, potentially dangerous animal (not unlike riding a bike). Also, horses require getting really dirty, not unlike being covered in sweat, dirt, muddy water, and God knows what else by the end of a triathlon. Ironically, I used to go running with my horse on dirt trails by the barn before I rode. This always generated several strange stares from other hikers but I would just joke that I didn’t have a dog to run with. It was a great workout for me (riding competitively actually requires some fitness) and a good warm-up for the horse. I actually competed in a “tetrathlon” for Pony Club when I was little; we had to shoot (air pistol), swim, run, and jump over a course of fences on the horse. I could ride well and run okay but the swim was a joke. Everyone else must have been on a swim team or something. I came in dead last. My arms were like spaghetti noodles flopping out of the water. My dad caught the whole thing on tape.

Spring Sprint 2008

Craig: How did you get started with triathlon?

Rachel: When my third horse retired in 2004, I was in graduate school and couldn’t afford the time and money required to support a new horse (believe it or not, there are things out there more expensive and time-consuming than triathlon). I began running but was plagued with injuries. I was already cross training by swimming and doing weights when my physical therapist pointed out that if I had a bike, I could do a triathlon. I bought my first road bike and signed up for my first sprint triathlon, the St. Peters Rec Plex Triathlon, just north of St. Louis. I was terrified because the bike was 20 miles and that seemed like a really long way at the time. I trained for months. When I crossed the finish line, I had two thoughts: Where is the food? I’ve never been so hungry! And, why did I wait so long to do this?

Craig: What was your Ironman Arizona experience like?

Rachel: It is difficult to capture how much this race meant for me in words. Even though I did absolutely everything I could possibly do to train for this race (and I mean everything), I was still completely petrified wen I lined up in the lake on race morning. I had done all the training, and all of a sudden, in the lake, it just hit me: What am I doing? This is absolutely insane! Then, the cannon went off, and my mind was instantly cleared of thought, and a great sense of calm and peace swept over me. I just started swimming.

It was a really tough day; the weather conditions
were the most extreme they had ever been for that race: 97-degree temps and 30 mph headwinds. It felt like the 5th ring of Dante’s Inferno on Beeline Highway that day. I saw very, very fit athletes dropping like flies all around me. Later, I learned that the DNF rate was the third highest in Ironman history. Of course, looking back, I wouldn’t change a
thing. It just made crossing the finish line that much more special. I learned a lot about how to endure pain and overcome negativity that day. I just wanted to cross that finish line; that was it. I focused on that one goal all day long. I forced down calories, salt pills, and tons of water religiously. Relinquishing all pride and ego, I slowed my pace down to a
crawl to allow my poor heart rate to slow and just kept thinking about the marathon I still had to run. The aid stations were serving hot water. Then, they started to run out of water. At one aid station, I had to stop, get off the bike, and dig through tossed water bottles to ind enough to drink. I knew if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to make it to the next aid station. It was no longer a race; it had become a matter of survival.

I reached the end of the bike and was just so happy to be done with the bike that I was actually relieved to start the marathon. I headed out of T2 and felt great. I guess all fueling and hydrating worked. I noticed I was
one of the few with a smile still on my face. The afternoon shadows grew long, and the sun began to go down, and as the temps cooled off, I felt better and better. My legs and feet were deliciously numb, and I felt like I was floating over the ground. It was like having a runner’s high for 26.2 miles. Around mile 19, I looked up at the night sky and was overwhelmed
by the millions of twinkling stars continued page 11 against the hazy backdrop of the Milky Way. Iwas completely unprepared for something so
brilliantly beautiful that late into an Ironman. I had never run a marathon before and had been warned about hitting the wall at mile 20. Maybe it was the delicious chicken broth, or the magical elixir that they call Coca Cola but I never hit the wall. Instead, I had a resurgence of energy at mile 20 and began picking up speed.

The final mile of the Ironman was bittersweet; I was shaking in anticipation of crossing the finish line but also overcome with a deep sadness that my first Ironman was coming
to an end. I turned to go down the chute and actually started sprinting; I was so excited. Crossing the finish line was a blur of crackling
loudspeakers, bright lights, and cheers but I will always remember the intense mixture of emotions that surged through me as I crossed: the exquisite, overwhelming feelings of accomplishment, victory,
euphoria, and relief. Seconds later, I looked around: Now what?

Craig: I know you were really looking forward to you IM. Once it was over, did you experience any post race hangover?

Rachel: Most definitely. I had focused on that one goal for so long that all of a sudden, afterwards, it hit me: Oh, I have to deal with my life now. Plus, my body was tired so it was really easy to be overcome with post-Ironman blues during my recovery month since I wasn’t allowing myself
to work out as much. I kept having this recurring dream that I was still out there running the 3rd lap by Tempe Towne Lake; that I was still doing the Ironman. I was overcome with great sadness upon awakening to realize that I wasn’t. My Ironman was over. It was as if I had left a part of myself out there on the course in Tempe. Once I started working out again and seeing all my tri-buddies, I started feeling better. I had heard the best way to recover from a big race like that is to have another race in the future to look forward to but it was hard. I just couldn’t get pumped for Spring Sprint and San Diego International after Ironman Arizona. However, I showed up at the start completely relaxed with a “Let’s have fun,” attitude, something I’ve never been able to do before. I don’t get nearly as nervous before sprints and Olympics now. I had a major PR at Spring Sprint, which injected me with renewed confidence and motivation. It was a great race to dust off the cobwebs and get me
out of my funk.

San Diego International Triathlon 2008

Craig: What is your favorite part of being a member of TCSD?

Rachel: In a nutshell—the Aquathlons. They represent all my favorite things about TCSD. I get to see all my friends, get in a tough, competitive
speed workout and eat a ton of good food afterwards while watching the sunset in one of the most coveted spots in the U.S. (the Shores). The Aquathlons always remind me of how lucky I am to be doing what I love alongside great people in one of my favorite places in the world. Plus, you never know who you’re going to bump into—Emilio DeSoto, Kate Major, Normann Stadler; it’s a celebrity hotspot!

Craig: You have a regular ride that you lead and organize. I was really impressed that you took that on as a fairly new member of the club. What do you suggest for other new members to get involved?

Rachel: I was really tired of riding by myself, but the Saturday rides up the coast had become monotonous. In addition, since I was training for a half-ironman, I wanted to ride a bit longer but it seemed like everyone who was riding long was really fast and way more experienced than me so I kept getting dropped. I reasoned I might not be the only one with this
problem and sent out an email to the club to see if others were interested. The response I got back was overwhelming. I started organizing the alternative Saturday bike rides, and it’s been such a rewarding experience, I’ve never looked back. I guess the planning involved is a bit of a time-suck (mapping out the route, typing out the directions, sending out the email, and making maps and route slips) but
honestly, I have so much fun planning the rides, it doesn’t feel like work. I love learning new routes and meeting new people. I’ve made so many friends through the rides and had so many fantastic experiences. There is absolutely no better way to spend a Saturday morning than getting a good workout, socializing with friends, and viewing the most scenic parts of
San Diego atop a bicycle—all done simultaneously (and of course, the great food at a local eatery afterwards)!
My advice to new members is: get involved. When I first joined TCSD, I was very intimidated. I started showing up to workouts and social events and was amazed at how friendly and down-to-earth everyone was. I realized there was no reason for me to be afraid; I was way harder on myself than anyone else! Plus, the learning curve is steep. By training with more experienced triathletes, I learned invaluable tips and was always motivated to work out because I wanted to see my friends. I’ve
found the most difficult decision I have is picking which workout(s) to do because there are so many! There is no better way to become familiar with other club members than to participate in club workouts or races, or better still, volunteer for an event.

The group on an Alternative Saturday Bike Ride

Craig: If you could wave a magic wand over the sport of triathlon, what would you like to change?

Rachel: I would make the sport less intimidating and more inviting for the average American. Obesity has become such an epidemic in our country, and most people think they could never do a triathlon. They don’t
realize that to finish a sprint triathlon, it’s easier than it seems. Plus, it’s more than just going to the gym and running on a treadmill. It’s a lot of fun too, which means people are more likely to stick with it. Triathlon is very popular in San Diego but the rest of the country is not so fortunate. I would love to see the sport grow and have more racing opportunities
around the country, especially at the Ironman distance.

Craig: How has triathlon changed your perspective of your body?

Rachel: When I first started exercising, I was trying to get toned and shed a few pounds. My motivation lay heavily in changing my physical
appearance. After I started doing triathlon, my goals started shifting to performance. I began to eat better (i.e. more) because I realized
I needed to fuel my body properly in order to go faster and not break down. Now, I appreciate what my body can do and am less concerned
with how it looks. Who cares if I don’t have a six-pack? I can do an Ironman! I am constantly amazed at the limitless boundaries of how far I can push myself and have gained a lot of respect and appreciation for my body. Because of this, I think triathlon can be a great way to build confidence, especially for women.

Craig: Why do you race and train triathlons?

Rachel: Besides the obvious (competition, health, and social aspects), I consider myself an experiential triathlete. I’m not particularly fast; I’m not out there to win but I always have a fantastic time. I have a triathlon blog so sometimes I joke that I race to blog (admittedly, I have done some cockamamie workouts just for the blog). Sometimes I feel like a triathlon reporter out there, taking mental notes and pictures of everything I experience so I can go home and document it on paper. It makes each workout and race very special because I’m always searching for spectacular moments; I’m never disappointed. In addition, it’s a great exercise for the mind; I never forget anything. I’m not just training my
muscles and heart; I’m also training my brain to remember every little detail. Because of this, I have captured every big race and workout
in writing (complete with photos) so I’ll have those memories forever. One of the reasons I love the Ironman distance so much is that it’s much more of an experience and much less of a race, at least for me. For the first time, I didn’t care about what mile I was on or my speed. I simply stayed in the moment and enjoyed myself, with each swim stroke, each
pedal stroke, and each footfall, for 140.6 miles. It was incredibly liberating. I’ve never felt so alive.

Craig: What is the funniest thing that’s happened to you in a triathlon?

Rachel: During my first half-ironman, CA 70.3 2006, I dug myself into a deep hole by not eating and drinking enough. Needless to say, I got very dehydrated and began to feel nauseous, lightheaded, and delirious. I had been using the sponges at the aid stations to cool off and wanted to throw away the used one but I didn’t want to litter, and I was in between aid stations. I saw a mailbox and mistook it for a trash can, accidentally “mailing” my used sponge. I wonder what the mailman thought the next day!

Craig: Hmmm, I hope that’s not why the USPS stopped sponsoring their cycling team. What is the most incredible thing that has happened
to you during a workout or race?

Rachel: On New Years’ Day 2006, I went for a mid-day swim at La Jolla Shores. I swam parallel to shore since I was alone, just past the breakers. I was very cold, and the water was pretty choppy. I started feeling very lonely and negative thoughts kept working their way in. All of a sudden, I heard this very loud clacking noise under the water. Confused, I looked up to see what it was. A pod of 6 or 7 dolphins had swam just a few meters away from me and were checking me out. It was as if they were saying, “Hey there! Everything okay? You look like you could use some company.” They seemed so kind and peaceful; I felt warm and protected. The current was pulling me towards them, and I was worried I would unwittingly invade their space. As soon as the thought passed through my mind, they began swimming out to sea and within seconds, they had disappeared. I realized how silly my concern had been; they are such
incredible, graceful swimmers. Ever since then, my love for swimming in the ocean has deepened.

Craig: What races would you like to do in the future?

Rachel: Right now, I’m training for my first real marathon, the Nike Women’s San Francisco Marathon, October 19th. In addition, I can’t
wait for my next Ironman. I am trying for Ironman Canada in 2009 but those slots are highly coveted so I’m trying to use some tricks up my sleeves to get in. Right now, I really want to focus on marathons and ironman-distance races since those distances feel the easiest for my body—long and slow. In the future, I would really love to do an Ultra
Marathon. I absolutely love distance running and feel a strange calling for a 50- or 100-mile run. But I realize this is not a rational desire.

Craig: What do you do for a living?

Rachel: I’m a research scientist in the cardiovascular and obesity field. Right now, I’m doing a postdoctoral fellowship at the Scripps Research Institute. I study the connection between inflammation and immunity in heart disease. Heart disease is the number one cause of death in men and women in the U.S. I wonder how many cases could be preventable
through healthy lifestyle changes, such as diet and exercise. Since my career requires me to be acutely aware of how the rising trend of
obesity is impacting people in our country, I have been further motivated to adopt the triathlon lifestyle.

Craig: What do you enjoy doing when you’re not working, training, or racing?

Rachel: I love animals and spend my free time with my two pet bunnies, Babs and Taz. They’re great pets for recovery! I used to be more active in animal rescue and would like to get more involved again in the future. I also love to paint and write. In addition, I love anything that gets me outdoors. There’s nothing better than a mellow hike on local trails on a recovery day.

Craig: Rachel, thank you so much for sharing your story. You add a lot to the Tri Club and our local community. We are lucky to have you on our team!