Memorial SportsCare Women's Biathlon 2011

Pre-race thoughts:  Going into this race, I was having a hard time figuring my goal paces.  I ran after biking in the triathlon two months ago for the first time, and it was just awful.  That was also after swimming for 20 minutes. 

Two weeks before the biathlon, Shane and I did a brick run.  A brick is a bike/run combo, simulating race conditions.  It can be shorter than the race, but since the race is a sprint, we did the whole thing:  12 miles on a bike and a 5K run.  It didn't go that bad.  As usual, I hated the biking part.  I was struggling to keep up with Shane who had gotten used to riding while pulling Jocelyn in a bike trailer.  The first couple of miles averaged over 17 mph, and that is way fast for me.  My usual biking runs average around 15.5 mph.  I felt a bit demoralized, but Shane slowed up and started coaching me a little. 

After the biking, we took off running.  I forgot how awful my legs would feel!  I've learned that the sensation of these heavy stumps is caused from the blood still going to the muscles that I used to bike while using different muscles to run.  It will take several minutes for the blood to redirect to the correct muscles.  Until then, I'm stuck feeling like I'm stomping my feet on the pavement with legs seemingly filled with concrete.  However, when it was all said and done, at the end of the run, I had extra in me to finish strong.  I averaged a respectable pace.  I can do this!

Unfortunately, I barely got on the bike again for the following two weeks.  That wasn't smart. 

After much deliberation, I set goal paces:  biking at or above 17 mph (doable, right?) and running at an 8:30 pace.  I think I can, I think I can!

Race Day

I got up and looked outside.  I couldn't see much further than 10 feet away.  A thick fog had moved in.  This should make for an intesting bike ride.  I checked the weather, and it was 42 degrees outside.  The humidity is probably 99%.  I wasn't even sure how to dress.  I knew what I would wear for running only, but I think it will be cold on that bike!

I settle on layers that I know I can strip off easily once the biking is done.  I gather my things, get my bike strapped to the car, and we head off.  Shane drops me off at the race location and then takes Jocelyn to my mom's house.  Mom's going to watch her so Shane can practice his sports photography and document this thing for me.

I pick up my timing chip, get my number written on my leg and continue to the bike rack.  I set up my bike and walk around to look for anyone I know.  At first I see no one, which is so strange because I know about ten people who participated last year.  I end up only seeing one person I know.   Someone I used to work with years ago.

We see Josh Hester, a talented photographer/videographer we know from church.  He works for Memorial and is covering the event.  We also run into Dave Anderson who is also taking some photos for his freelance work, Perfect Concept Photography.  Dave is talented as well.  Shane is going to work with him to pick up some pointers.

Starting line:  off we go!

After the national anthem, we all head to the transition area and the first group is called.  I am in wave three.  I nervously stand near my bike and chat with a few of the other ladies.  We hear the cheers for the first wave.  My stomach jumps a little.  The second wave is setting up, so we take our bikes off the racks and head out of transition. 

We line up on Koke Mill Road.  They count down to starting, and we are off!  I start near the front of the pack on the right side.  I pass several ladies, and several others are passing me.  I try to settle into a rhythm, check my GPS, and realize I forgot to start it.  I hit the start button.  I probably only got about a quarter of a mile down the road.  I felt like I was going fast, and my watch showed my speed above 17 mph.  Nice.  This is my goal pace! 

Then a funny thing happens--I realize that the same starting line adrenaline and speed rush I get at the start of running races just occured.  As I enter into the second mile, I am struggling to maintain a speed anywhere near 17 mph.  I don't have any type of rhythm and my breathing is all over the place.  The fog is still very thick on the country roads and processing oxygen seems to a struggle as well.  My lungs are working harder to take the moisture out of the air.

So far the course has been fairly flat, but the hills are coming.  We are beginning to run into the congestion of slower bikers from the waves before us.  Right before the first hill, someone from my wave passes me.  She's on a mountain bike, and it kind of irks me.  I'm on a road bike (so much lighter and meant for racing!) and I'm in decent shape, so I think that I should be able to keep up with anyone who is not on a road bike.  Wrong.  I pass her back up later.  She passes me up again.  We would do this several times through the ups and downs of the hills and turns that make up this course.  Did I tell you that I HATE hills while biking?  And that I HATE this biking course?!  This is killing me!

I keep pushing the hardest I feel I can go, but I keep finding my pace well below my goal pace of 17 mph.  Actually, I am rarely hitting a pace faster than 15 mph.  I feel frustrated because I usually average over 15 mph on my regular evening bike rides.  This is a race!  I should be able to go faster!

At times, the congestion of bikers on the narrow country roads have me hitting the brakes and coming to a near stand-still.  I applaud each and every one of these ladies for getting out here and doing this.  I know that for many of them, finishing the race is the only goal.  I just wish I didn't feel so rude weaving through them.  There's also cars driving on the course since it's not closed to traffic.  Most of the drivers were extremely courteous and stayed very slow.  However, some went roaring by, as if they were annoyed by the bike traffic.  A minvan from hell forces me to pass another biker on the right shoulder, which could have easily caused an accident.

After several frustrating miles, the final frustration arrives--West Washington Street.  I know these hills from running them last year during the Frostbite Festival (to read that experience, click here).  Big hills.  Massive hills.  There are several of them right in a row with each one getting successively larger.  The last one is a KILLER.  I push as hard as I can while trying to find the right gears.  I'm being passed.  I'm passing others.  I'm winded.  I'm struggling.  I'm in pain.  I'm hating every second of this.  I'm praying that God gets me to the top of this hill without falling over off my bike from going too slow. 

I made it!  I finally make it to the top! I know that was the worst of the hills. I can't remember how many more there would be.  My legs are hurting.  My lungs are hurting.  I feel like cruising around eight mph pace or so, but I can't.  I'm not done yet.  There's still two miles to go!

There's a few more modest hills on West Washington.  I see my friend Karen on the side of the road at the entrance of her subdivision ringing her cow bell and supporting everyone going by.  I yell hi to her, and she cheers for me.  Almost at this very moment, my left calf seizes up in a cramp.  It was like I quit pushing for a minute and the tendons tightened up.  It was as bad of a cramp as I can remember.  I push through it.  I had just passed a couple of ladies, but the cramp forced me to slow way down, and then I was just in their way.  I yell "sorry" as they pass me right back up.  Oh, it hurts so bad!

I continue on, looking at my watch which tells me I don't have far to go.  We turn on to Koke Mill Road, and I'm staring at the last hill.  I push as hard as my sore calf would take me.  There's also a ligament on the back of that knee that hates me as well.  I keep pushing and make it to the top.  A volunteer yells out that it's all downhill from here.  I pray he's not joking!

The transition area comes into sight!  Volunteers are directing traffic.  I get to the dismount area grateful that I am able to get off the bike. 

Official biking results:  Time 49:02.45. Average speed 14.7 mph. 60th place.

I walk my bike into the transition area.  It isn't too crowded.  My legs are feeling like jello--very heavy jello.  I feel like I'm walking in slow motion, so I pick it up to a slow trot with my bike.  I park it in my spot, take off my helmet, fleece, and I'm off!

Transition:  00:44.50.  19th place in transition.  =)

The running is bittersweet.  It is my strongest event, yet I feel so awkwardly unprepared due to my biking legs.  I stomp (it feels like stomps, at least) my way down Koke Mill.  The run begins on a sidewalk--a very narrow sidewalk.  There is a lot of people traffic.  There are walkers and runners of all paces heading down the walk.  It's way too crowded, and I think I'm going to twist an ankle while trying to pass on the grass.  I still feel like I have "sea" legs.  I could trip on my own feet at this moment very easily without the extra help of switching between grass and sidewalk.  A few others and I move out into the street, running down the side of the road.  This gives us a little more room to go a comfortable pace without feeling like we are runing someone down.

Mile 1: 8:36 pace, respectable.

I am counting the seconds as they tick by so slow.  I want my legs to feel better soon!  I look at my GPS and I'm pleasantly surprised that I'm hovering around my goal pace already.  It's so hard to judge your pace when you just got off a bike going 15 mph and your legs don't feel normal.  I keep my pace up the best I can.  My legs are really tired, but at least they are starting to feel more normal.

I'm feeling the spring come back in my step and begin passing people.  I check on my pace from time to time, and I'm staying on goal.  When my GPS finally chimes out mile 2, I feel like I have an eternity to go.  That can't just be two miles.  Come on, Tammy.  Just 1.1 miles left.  You can do it!

Mile 2: 8:37 pace.

I'm starting to feel weak in this last mile.  I find myself wishing I had my music.  This is when I would crank my iPod to push me through.  Most biathlons and triathlons prohibit having them on the course for safety reasons.  I miss my music!  I keep pushing past my mom's house, down to the corner and back around to Old Jacksonville Road.  I know that I'm close now! 

Photo courtesy of www.joshhester.com. 

We're back on a skinny sidewalk for a short distance before we hit the parking lot of the Koke Mill Medical Center.  The finish line is in the parking lot just up ahead.  My watch rings out mile three is done, and I start to run with everything I have left.  I can push hard for a 10th of a mile.

Mile 3:  8:28 pace

I turn the corner in the parking lot toward the finish line and run as fast as I can.  My legs still have a little left in them, and I feel like I finish strong.  I run across that finish line through a crowd of people. 

I am done!  Hallelujah!


Official 5K time:  26:13.85, 8:27 pace, 24th place.

Overall Finish:  1 hour and 16 minutes on the nose.  28th place overall.

While I am disappointed with my biking time, I am happy with my overall performance and my run.  My running pace was three seconds per mile faster than my goal.  I can handle that.  So, my post-race thought is if I want to do this again, I seriously need to work on my biking.  I bought that pretty bike, and it really needs to do more than lean up against a wall in my living room.  I need to learn how to spin.  I need to get past loathing the biking, and start to enjoy the experience. 

Look, I'm smiling (kind of).

This time a year ago, I felt the same way about running as I do biking right now.  I didn't enjoy running a year ago.  It was a challenge and a means to an end.  Now, I love the experience of running.  I love the feeling that I get during and after a great run.  Hopefully in time, I'll feel the same way about biking. 

The rest of the day, when I should have been recovering, I was spending time on my feet with my daughter at an apple orchard. By bedtime, I was walking funny and had severe pains in my legs and calves.  My left achilles was aching.  I also had a wet cough for hours as my lungs tried to get rid of the water I breathed in all morning.  I felt rough, but I would recover eventually.  I spent the evening on the couch with my husband fixing dinner and pampering me.  I'm one lucky girl.  ;)

This was a fun event regardless of my whining about things. I'm glad I did it and set the bar for improvement when I do it again next year!

Click here to watch Memorial's video montage of the event.  I didn't make the final cut.

Beautiful morning "run-rises"

I've been pretty faithful about my morning runs.  It's hard to believe I've been running regularly for a little over a year now.  This time last year, I was hating 50% or more of my runs.  I hadn't quite figured it all out yet.  What a huge difference a year can make! 

My Facebook status from one year ago:  "I ran 2.89 mi on Sep. 13, time: 00:28:59. Getting there...slowly. Need to increase the mileage. Those hillls kick my butt though!" (10:02 pace).  Pace on this morning's four mile run, 8:55/mile.  I'd say that's a decent improvement! 

If you are not running now, take the first step and you will be able to see how far you've come in a year as well. It's very rewarding.  One of the other rewards of getting up early to run is the sunrises (a/k/a "run-rises") that I get to see.  It may be hard to get my butt out of bed each morning, but I always enjoy the morning view!

Just look at what you are missing:

September 1, 2011

September 8, 2011

September 13, 2011

Abe's Amble 10K - 2011

It's bright and early, and my alarm goes off.  Time to make the doughnuts.... No, it's time to run!  I lay there deciding that I would much rather sleep in.  I feel like I could sleep another five hours. 

Last night, we went to the Muni to see the Wizard of Oz.  It seemed like it would be a laid back enough thing to do on the night before a race.  Unfortunately, it got out after 11:00 p.m., and we didn't get in to bed until after midnight.  I don't know why I'm mentioning this, if we didn't go to the show, we probably wouldn't have been in bed before midnight anyways.  And if we were, we wouldn't have slept well.  It was race night eve, after all!

So after talking myself in to getting up, everything after that is okay.  That's the hardest part is getting the first foot out of bed.  It's funny (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha) that I haven't had any race nervousness.  I'm not feeling the butterflies, and that's strange for me.  We drive out to the fairgrounds and wait in line for the other hundreds of cars to park--other runners and walkers.  They are everywhere.  At the grandstand, we talk to some friends and then head to the front gate for a warm-up mile.

My legs feel fairly good.  I feel a little tired in my quads, but that will go away as soon as I hear "Go!".  After the run, some short sprints and a few stretches, we pile into the starting area corral.  Our friend Rick asks me what pace I'm shooting for.  When I tell him between 8:30 and 8:40, he says it's about the pace he thinks he will run as well.  It's 7:30 a.m.--time to "Ready. Set. Go!"

And we're off!  The crowd surges forward, and I move to the left side of the street next to Rick to stay out of the crowd.  As we head up Grandstand Boulevard and turn on to Main Street of the fairgrounds, I keep checking my GPS.  It shows that we are pacing between 8:00 and 8:20.  I tell Rick that I'm pretty sure I can't maintain that, so I'm dropping back.  He pulls forward, and I feel better settling into my 8:30ish pace.

We head out of the fairgrounds and turn onto Sangamon Avenue.  There's one hill on Sangamon.  It's not too bad.  We head down, I pick up the pace and pass a few runners.  I keep to the far left. 

My dad said he would be there by Frannie's on Sangamon.  I see his truck as we get closer.  I see a couple of people sitting on chairs in the area, but I don't see my dad.  Right as I am wondering where he could be, I hear, "Hi, Tammy."  He's on the right side of the road, not the left.  He gets a few nice pictures of the side and back of my head looking over at Frannie's.  You can tell I'm looking for him.  Nice picture (see below).  GPS rings out.

Mile 1 completed:  8:25 pace.  I knew I was pacing a little fast.

I think it's time for the iPod.  I pull out my Shuffle and ear buds which have become tangled like crazy.  I spend a couple minutes trying to unknot and unravel them.  Finally, I get them on and crank the music.  I love music. 

We continue into Lincoln Park for a short amount of time.  I know it's just minutes before we hit the Black Avenue hill going the "easy" direction (note: sarcasm).  I head down the hill trying to keep my footfalls light to not jar my knees or twist anything.  I'm being passed, but I just don't care.  We reach the bottom and then slowly start the ascent.  Mountain climbing terms are the only thing that seem appropriate for these hills. I'm being passed by a lot of people.  I find this weird because at the half marathon in April, I was passing other people on this very hill heading the other direction.  I don't think much of it until I pass a couple of those people walking soon after the hill is done.  Too much, too fast.

I am recovering from the hill on my way down Third Street.  I look at my watch and I'm doing about 9:00.  I give myself some time to recover, but I don't want to slow too much below my goal pace.  After a minute or two, I'm ready to go again.  I turn on Eastman Avenue and head toward Monument Drive.  A police car--the pace car--passes me going the other way.  I see Emily K. hanging out the window with a camera.  I'm sure that if she got a picture of me I look like I'm giving the camera a dirty look.  My mind wasn't working right. It was difficult to figure out that someone was taking pictures out the passenger side window!  Right behind that car is Bryan Glass--and no one else for quite sometime.  Dang, he's fast!

I head into Oak Ridge Cemetery and start looking for Shane in the returning runners.  Down the hill.  Up the hill.  Around the corner.  Water.  Back down the hill.  Back up the hill.  Done with Oak Ridge.  Never saw Shane.

Mile 3 done:  8:43 pace.  All those hills and recovery, I'm glad it's not too far off target!

Back to the Black Avenue hill.  One last time, and the hardest part of this race is over.  I'm trying to pick a runner ahead of me and stay with them, but it's not working out well this race.  Sometimes, I just can't keep up.  This is letting me know that I am running to the edge of my abilities today.  As we approach the descent, I scroll through a couple of songs on my iPod.  I need something really pumping to keep me going strong.  I hear the beginning beats of "Lose Yourself" by Eminem, and I know I got this hill.  Something about that song just gets me moving--driving me right up the hill.  I'm passing a couple of people that just do not have it in them to keep running.  I hit the volume a couple of times, and before I know it, I'm at the top and turning back into Lincoln Park. 

I round the corner, and I've got new found energy.  I begin to pass a few people.  I'm using this flat portion of the course and my rejuvenation to move ahead.  "Lose Yourself" ends, but I hit repeat because I know that I could use another dose.  It never seems to get old when I'm pushing myself. 

Mile 5 done: 8:45 pace.  Slower than my goal, but I'm not complaining.

We head back out of Lincoln Park onto Sangamon Avenue heading back to the fairgrounds.  This time running past Frannie's, I look at both sides of the road.  I see me dad with the camera, and he takes a few of me.  Then I make a silly face for good measure--see, I went against my own advice on trying to not "pose" for running pictures.  We all know how that turns out.  Not good.  --->

Heading back into the fair, I keep checking my watch.  There's less than a mile to go, but I know I'm still not ready or able to really kick it in.  I try to speed up, but it's just not there.  I feel like I'm biding my time to the finish line, and I hate it.  At the same time though, I know that I have nearly a mile left, and if I speed up too much now, I doubt if I would be able to finish strong.  I'm almost to Grandstand Boulevard!

I turn the corner and I can see the grandstand building and the crowds lining the road.  I start to lengthen my stride.  I'm running behind this guy who is picking up the pace nearly at the same exact pace as me.  Actually, he passed me just a few seconds ago, but now I'm doing all I can do to keep up with him.  About halfway to the grandstand, my watch lets me know the last full mile is done.

Mile 6 done:  8:35 pace.  There's my goal pace.

Oh, the last stretch.  How I love you!  When I see those blue mats across the road, something comes over me.  I really pull together everything I have left in me, and go as fast as I can.  I run through the crowd, scanning for people I know.  I see Shane at the last minute and wave.  Then I cross the finish.  I hit my GPS to stop.

Last two-tenths of a mile:  7:17 pace.  I always love my final stretch pace! 

Overall official time:  53:43 (8:39 pace). 189/822 total runners.  10/74 age/gender.  43/491 women. 

I did not hit the 8:36 pace SmartCoach had me running, but I was close.  SmartCoach didn't factor in the hills that are in Abe's Amble--it's a tough course.  No excuses though, I'm still extremely happy with my run.  I ran hard and pretty much left it all out there.  Judging how my legs felt afterwards, I may have left a little more than had out there.  I need to remember, before the race, I had doubts I could get anywhere near that pace for 6.2 miles. 

I can't wait to see how another year of running under my belt will change how I run this race next year.  It's almost been a year since I started running.  Maybe I'm not so much a newbie anymore.

Pre-race thoughts: Abe's Amble 10K

This morning, I did my last training run prior to Abe's Amble 10K on Sunday morning.  My SmartCoach application had me doing a one mile warmup, three miles at 8:59, one mile cool down.  Due to not being able to drag my tired butt out of bed on time, I had to shorten the actual tempo part to two miles.  I'm hoping it's enough though. 

The SmartCoach has me running the 10K at a 8:36 pace.  I don't know what to think about this pace.  I ran a half marathon just months ago at 9:14 per mile.  I ran a 5K in May at 8:07.  I ran 2 miles last Thursday at 7:51.  I don't know if I'm trying to convince you I can do it, or myself.  Running is so mental.  These are good reminders for me.

The run this morning felt decent.  The warmup mile, my achilles felt tight and stiff.  It was 6:30 in the morning though.  I'm allowed to be stiff that early.  I'm no spring chicken after all.  After the first mile, I tried to pace myself at 8:59.  I felt like I was all over the place. I want to download my GPS information to see how bad it was.  Sometimes the watch said 7:50ish, other times it said 9:30ish.  However, when the GPS chimed another mile done, it read 9:00 on the nose for mile #2. 

I keep running and zone out.  I forget I'm trying to stay at 8:59.  I look down and see that my pace is 10:03.  Oops.  Lazy running.  I pick it up again.  I forget again.  I pick it up again.  I'm just not with it this morning.  Ring--mile #3 done.  I look down and it says 8:58.  Not bad staying on overall target while being all over the place! 

I cool down with a last mile at 10:00.  Talk about precise!  So, am I ready for Abe's Amble?  Check back in on Sunday! 

Illinois State Fair Parade Run - 2 miles

This short, fast race is a favorite of many local and not-so-local racers.  It's a 2-mile out and back starting from the main drag of the state fair, out the fair, down the parade route with tons of spectators lining the road waiting for the parade to pass.  It's relatively flat, so you see some fast times.

I had never run this race or anything less than 3.1 miles.  So, I was trying to come up with the right goal pace for myself.  I have decided to never run a race without a goal pace again.  I tend to sell myself short if I don't set a goal.  My last 5K back in May, I paced around 8:09 per mile.  Even though I have not put in quality training since that race, I decided that I wanted to beat 8:00 per mile, a total goal of finishing in less than 16 minutes.  It's totally doable, right?  Maybe, I'm certainly not confident.

As the race time got close, the pre-race butterflies kick in.  It feels very similar to the way I feel right before I have to do public speaking.  I take deep breaths and hope that they are just helping with adrenaline that I'll need for the race.

We get to the fair and see runners everywhere warming up.  We walk through the Ethnic Village to see if we know anyone since we are a little early.  About 20 minutes before the race start, we take a warm-up jog down the road and back.  My achilles are stiff and tight.  I'm hoping that works itself out before the race.  We return to the starting line area and the crowds are getting thick now.  We find some water and stretch a little.  All of a sudden, it seems, the announcer says "Ready. Set. Go." and we're off!

The crowd of runners surges toward the main gate of the fairgrounds and out to the streets.  I see Shane ahead of me for the first quarter or half a mile.  I'm constantly checking my GPS to try to keep my pace under control.  At one point I look down and see 6:23.  I back down.  Shane moves ahead.  The pace actually feels comfortable, but I know my mind, adrenaline and the crowd is tricking me.  I spend nearly the first three-quarters of a mile trying to find my pace.  Sometimes I look and I'm going faster than my goal.  Other times, I see a pace over 9:00.  Either the watch or I am jumping all over the place!

It's warm out (about 81 degrees), but about as nice of weather we could ask for at 5:30 p.m. on an August afternoon!  Last year, it was about 20 degrees hotter during the race.  We approach the turn-around and my throat is about as dry as it can be!  Thankfully they are handing out water.  I take one, even though I know it will slow me down a bit.  I drink about as much as I drip down the front of my shirt, but I don't mind.

The GPS rings out, I look at my first mile pace, and I finished in 7:48.  Wow, faster than I thought and faster than my goal.  However, I can't slow down now.  I have to keep a decent pace, but now I know that I have a 12 second wiggle room in my second mile.  I seem like I am running in my own little world.  It might be the music from my iPod or I'm just zoning out.  I'm not sure which one.

I don't see the crowd lining the roads, but I know they are there.  Some people are cheering for runners as they go by, especially the teenage boys in superhero capes.  Mostly I know because of the cigarette smoke we are running through.  Even as an ex-smoker, this is totally disgusting and so hard to deal with while running.  I am pushing myself to the edge of my abilities including my heart, lungs and legs.  My lungs need clean air to process at its peak capacity!  I feel sick trying to breathe.  My lungs are definitely feeling it.

We turn the corner to head back on to the straight-away that leads into the fair.  I am starting to feel my legs protest the pace.  I look at my watch and we are at 1.58 miles.  A little less than a half mile to go.  I can do this!  I can maintain this pace!  (I'm trying to convince myself, so please bare with me.)  I pray for the main gates to miraculously get closer.  The time and distance is creeping by.

I see them!  We approach the main gate.  My legs just want to give up, but I don't let them.  There's a slight down and up a hill before the finish line.  I try to lengthen my stride to speed up and finish strong.  My efforts feel useless!  I don't notice any difference in my pace.  However, I pass a couple of people heading up the hill.  As I get close to the milkshake stand that I'm supposed to meet Carrie after the race with Jocelyn, I see them sitting on the side of the road.  I yell for Jocelyn and wave to her.  She sees me!  They all wave back, and I feel so proud to be a healthy example for my daughter!

The blue finish line mats are in my sights!  I give it everything I have left through the last couple hundred feet.
I see the timing clock as I cross the finish line and it says 15:45.  I push the stop button on my GPS and it says the same.  I did it!!  I am totally wasted and spent, and I can barely catch my breath as I stop to get my timing chip cut off.  I walk out of the chute trying to get my breath under control.  That was rough!

I stand there are try to recover while feeling nauseous.  If I thought about it too long, I would hurl.  For real.  This was probably the race that I best gauged my physical abilities and then met them.  There have been so many races that I had so much left in the tank when the race was over.  Today, I left it all out on the road.  Every little bit of it.  And I feel good (except for that pesky pukey feeling).

Official time:  15:45.69.  156th overall.  36th female. 4th place in my division.  Ah, just missed a bronze award finish!  There's always next year. 

2012 goal = 14:59 or less.

Stoneman Triathlon

A few days before the Stoneman Triathlon, I tried to gauge my overall fitness in two foreign sports to determine if I could or should register.  Shane found a bike for me to borrow from a friend of a friend.  He picked up the bike for me on Wednesday evening; two and a half days before the triathlon.  One day before online registration closed.

I went on a six mile ride on a loop around our house.  I did it in 26 minutes.  Ugh.  That means 52 minutes for 12 miles.  Looking at the race results from last year, I would need to be closer to 40 minutes to be competitive at all. Shane gave me a few good excuses like the hilly route I took and the fact that I wasn't going "all out" because I wasn't racing.  I happily agreed, even though in the back of my mind, I knew that wasn't the case.  I wasn't sure I'd do much better in a race.  I pushed those thoughts out of my head, even though I knew I could not make up the time I needed to be happy with my performance.

On Thursday morning (the deadline day for registration), I planned to go to Eisenhower pool to see how I could do swimming.  I used to swim all the time as a kid--literally every single day of my summer for a decade was spent at Colony West pool.  So I thought, maybe it will come back to me quickly?  Maybe I'd be able to pull this off?  Unfortunately, Eisenhower pool changed its summer hours, and they were not open to public lap swims on Thursday morning, only Thursday night.  I had volleyball on Thursday night.  So, I guess I'm not going to be able to swim.

Even though I was unable to swim and did not feel good about my biking time, I registered anyways.  I just don't understand my thought process sometimes.  I somehow think that it will be just fine.  I'm registering for a triathlon with absolutely no training, and I think I will be okay.  There is a fine line between courage and stupidity in decision making sometimes. 

I can't believe I am doing this.  Sure, the 5K run is no problem. I have been running for nearly a year now with a half marathon completed just a few months ago.  I haven't swam more than a few feet at a time in a couple of decades. I never ride my bike. What could go wrong, really?  Don't answer that.

So here it is!  It's the morning of the triathlon.  We get up, throw on our stuff, grab our bags and go.  The starting line is just a couple miles from our house.  There are so many people here!  We park and walk our bikes to the transition area.  They write our bib numbers on our arms and legs.  We take our bikes and set them up in our appropriate "wave".  The different waves are determined by gender and age.  I'm with 39 and under.

The bike rack for my wave is nearly full, so I take a spot at the very end.  I watch other people to see how they are setting things up.  I set my towel down, and lay out my running shoes with a sock in each shoe so I won't be fumbling with them after the swim.  I also lay out my shirt, shorts, biking helmet and a bag of gummy bears.  I attach the GPS to the handle bars and turn it on so it's ready to go when I'm done with the swim.  Oh man, I'm getting nervous!

We walk down to the lake for announcements and stretching.  Shortly after that, the Iron Abe contestants start their swims.  The Iron Abe route is twice as long, not for the faint of heart!  We watch as the first four waves go.  They are going every three minutes.  I am in wave six.  Shane is in seven.  Oh jeeze, it's my turn!  I put on the swimcap and goggles and slowly walk into the lake.  The water is a warm 89 degrees.  Ewwwww, did I tell you that I absolutely hate lake water and the feeling of the algae all over the boat ramp is making me want to hurl?!  Gross! Gross! Gross!  All right Tammy, suck it up girl!

I look out 250 yards to a yellow marker in the lake.  That is my destination.  It doesn't really look so bad from here.  It's the moment of truth.  They count down for our wave to begin, and we are OFF!  I pretty much let everyone go in front of me, but I'm still being bumped by the others who had the same plan.  I start with a slow freestyle stroke.  I come up for my first breath and it just doesn't feel long enough to take in the amount of air I need.  I try breathing on every third stroke.  Still  not enough.  I have a minor panic attack and begin to do a breast stroke.  At first I allow my face to go under, then I start feeling like I don't want my face to go under at all.  I just can't get my breathing under control.  My heart is racing.  I'm not processing air well, and I'm going SO SLOW! I swallow lake water several times as I gasp for air.  The lake is so disgusting...and I'm drinking it while trying to stay alive.

About two-thirds of the way out to the turn around, I stop at at a one of the surfboards manned by a lifeguard to rest.  I am so happy to stop for a moment because I'm absolutely winded and exhausted.  I can barely believe how I feel.  I look back to see how far I've come so far, and the other way to see how far I still have to go.  I really start questioning whether or not I'm going to make it.  There are two other people resting on the surfboard with me, so I don't feel so bad about that.  I think, it's now or never.  I push off and start swimming again.  Immediately, I'm tired and winded.  I severely underestimated how hard this would be.  The panic really starts to set it now.  I'm not sure I can make it, and I feel a bit of terror come over me.  I can't quit, but I really doubt I can keep this up for another 300 yards!

At this moment, almost as if it was on cue, one of the other people who stopped at the surf board with me starts calling for help.  I see the jet ski turn around and head behind me, but I don't know what happened to her.  I'm guessing they pulled her out of the water.  This doesn't help my state of mind at all.  At this point, I'm being passed and ran into by people from the wave that started three minutes after mine.  This is the wave Shane is in.  I roll over onto my back and start doing a backstroke.  This is the only way that I can keep my head out of the water to breathe and not expend too much energy.  My goal now is just to make it back to shore.

I'm mostly just using my legs, but work my arms and hands into it occasionally.  I wonder how slow I'm actually going because it's very hard to tell with no point of reference except the sky.  I stop and pop my head up every so often to make sure I'm not getting in anyone's way, and that I'm not veering wildly off course.  I have no idea while I'm on my back which way I'm facing.  I look up and the lines of clouds and try to focus on following one.  I'm fairly relaxed while doing this, I should have done it from the start instead of stopping at that board.  If it wasn't for people running in to me and smacking me in the face every now and then, I'd be perfect!

Then I hear, "Tam, is that you?"  It's Shane, and he's caught up to me.  I tell him I am so tired, but doing okay.  I try to reassure him with my voice.  I now know I could stay on my back indefinitely kicking toward the shore.  I tell him I am fine, and he swims on ahead.  I'm getting closer.  Dear God, let this swim end soon!

I look up to see how much farther it is and it seems just within my reach.  I return to the breast stroke and side stroke to make sure I'm heading in the right direction.  Our friend, Dave (Perfect Concept Photography) is cheering me on from the dock.  I know he's here to take pictures, but I seriously can't imagine having this moment documented.  I continue to side stoke intentionally facing away from the camera--easier than trying to tell him no pictures please.  Then finally, I make it to the ramp!  Oh sweet Jesus, thank you for keeping me safe! 

Swim results:  20:46.8 - Amazingly awful, but I'm alive!  Next time, train for it, idiot!

I run to the transition area, completely winded and exhausted.  I pass a couple of older triathletes who lapped me during the swim.  They kicked my butt!  One of their friends snaps a picture, and I run right in front of the camera.  Oops!  (A mutual friend from Facebook shares the picture with me later, see left.)  I am so wiped out that I consider walking, but I know I have so much time to make up.

I enter the first transition by trying to dry off a little, but it doesn't seem to matter because I'm so soaking wet.  I grab my socks and put the first one on after drying my foot a little.  Worthless, still so wet.  I put on my shoe.  I don't even try to dry off my other foot.  I pull the sock on, put on my shoe, look over at the stack of items still sitting there, and realize I haven't put on my shorts yet.  Aw, man!  I try to pull my shorts on over my shoes, and I almost fall over.  I catch my balance, and hope no one is watching me.  It's pretty deserted around here.  Most people are already on their bikes, thank goodness.

I finally get my socks, shoes, shorts, shirt and helmet on, grab my bike off the rack and head out.  I fumble with the GPS, trying to get it on my wrist, but my fine motor skills seem to have completely disappeared after a swim like that.  I get on the bike and start riding. 

Transition #1:  2:46.8.  Again, not good at all.  Nearly three minutes!

For the first mile or two, I'm still trying to catch my breath.  I'm trying to get my legs to work properly.  I'm trying to adjust the gears on the bike.  I'm trying to get this damn watch on!!  It's a quarter of a mile in to the bike portion when I realize that I haven't started the GPS.  Finally, I'm situated, and I settle into my ride. 

I am being passed by people every once and a while.  On rare occasion, I pass someone, but not often.  I try to drink some Gatorade to rehydrate before I have to run.  As I put the bottle back in the holder on the bike, I nearly drop it.  Yikes!  I need to be more careful next time.  Just about that time, I pass the first water bottle on the side of the road.  I would see several that day.

I'm riding along and finally start feeling better around the Pawnee Road turn off.  I pass someone and try to push harder than I have been for the first couple of miles.  I hate riding uphill, but I try my "Kill the Hill" mantra from the half marathon.  Just get through this I keep telling myself.  Every once and a while, someone passes me and tells me "great job".  I love the camaraderie that comes with these types of sports.  It always seems like it's just the time that I need encouragement too.

As I approach the turn-around at the halfway mark, I slow down considerably and allow the Iron Abe bikers to have the full right of way merging through.  I start to head back, and I feel much better now.  I'm still not going really fast, but I feel respectable.  I remember that I stashed gummy bears for a quick sugar fix during the race.  I pull them out and start downing them.  If I had a glass of cold water right now, it would be heaven!  I have to settle for lukewarm orange Gatorade. 

I also remember the gel pack that I stashed with the gummies.  They gave them out with the registration packets.  I know you are not supposed to do anything new on race day, but I don't have that much longer to go.  If it gives me some energy, then great.  I rip off the top and take a little bit in.  It is absolutely disgusting!  It's like warm jelly that doesn't even taste that good.  If it was cold, I could have possibly tolerated it, but this was just plain gross.  I stash the rest of the pack on my handlebars and go back to eating the gummy bears.

 © Perfect Concept Photography 2011

I finally reach the turn by the zoo, and I can't believe I'm almost done with this ride.  The final stretch along Center Park had people cheering, and Dave was there for a picture.  For some stupid reason, I try to force a smile.  It comes off very much as a grimace.  Lovely.  Helpful hint:  unless you are highly photogenic, it is best to just ignore the camera and act natural.  I have no business trying to "pose" for a picture at this point in my day.

Bike results:  48:13.2. Sigh.

I approach the transition area, get off the bike and walk it in.  Since I biked with my running shoes on, I don't have much to do except put my bike back and take the helmet off.  I wonder how many people run out with their helmets still on?  I feel like I'm forgetting something.  Could it be that easy?  Oh well, I take off for my run.

Transition #2:  49.7 seconds.  Not bad.  Good thing I didn't have to change shoes.

OH. MY. GOODNESS.  My legs HATE me!  The initial part of the run is uphill: up from Lindsay Bridge boat ramp parking lot to the beach house area.  My calves are seizing up and cramping.  I keep thinking, just run through it.  It will stop.  I keep going, past the finish line area, where tons of people are lining the course to watch the finishers coming in.  I still have about 30 minutes to go before I'll be back here.  I glance at the GPS which says I'm going about 9:40ish.  I'm dying!  So I slow it down.

I push through the first mile in hopes that my legs will feel better and they don't.  I don't want to walk, but my legs are begging me to.  I run out onto East Lake Drive, cross the road and decide to walk for a minute.  I just can't take it!  As soon as I go to walk, someone runs by me and says, "let's go!", urging me to run again.  I answer back that I'm trying.  It's enough encouragement to get my legs moving again.  I decide that I'm going to walk through a couple of the water stations, but try to run for the rest.  The strategy works okay for me, and by the turn around, my legs are feeling much better.  The guy right in front of me is doing a reasonable pace, so I decide to latch on to him for the rest of the run.  I walk through one last water station, keeping my pacer in my sights.  The large cup of ice water that I'm holding is amazing!  I keep running, I'm back into Center Park now.  The end is in sight!

My watch rings out an alert:  three miles done.  With only a tenth of a mile left, I call on everything I have left from my legs.  I lengthen my stride and push through to the finish.  My pacer has also picked up his pace.  I never catch up to him until the moment that I run into the back of him when he stops to take off his timing bracelet after crossing the finish line.  I apologize and then step to the side to have mine taken off. My final tenth of a mile was done at a 7:42 pace.  If I still had that in me, why couldn't I do better on that run?

5K results: 31:50.1.  This is my slowest 5K time ever. Okay, so it was the toughest 5K I have ever ran!

© Perfect Concept Photography 2011

I'm done.  I survived!  I can't even believe it!  I signed up for a sprint triathlon with no training and lived to tell about it.

Overall time:  1:44:26.6.

A few things I have learned from this experience: (1) I need to do another one of these; (2) I need to actually train for it; (3) I need to get a better bike; and (4) I need to learn how to swim!  In my overall results, I had the 8th slowest swim time and 18th slowest biking time.  For a competitive person like me, it is horrible to see my name so low on a list.  Out of 220 participants, I finished at 203.  I hate even admitting that.  I was beat by 70 year olds, and probably an 80 year old or two as well.  Nothing against them, they are amazing warriors, but I should be able to at least hang with the 70 year olds, right?

In hindsight, I'm kind of glad Eisenhower pool wasn't open for a lap swim that morning.  Had I been able to get into the pool, I would have realized that I was amazingly unprepared for a 500 yard swim.  I probably wouldn't have signed up.  I do not regret signing up at all.  This was an awesome experience that I hope to repeat with a little better outcome in the future.  So, time to start figuring out a training plan for another triathlon, as well as how to run faster in the meantime.  I've got a year until I can do this one again.  I can't let this be my one and only showing at a triathlon.  I have no choice but to train.  Until next time...

No turning back now...

I just registered.  I plunked my money down to sign up for the triathalon.  Saturday morning, 8:00 a.m.  Oh man, oh man.  Yikes!