Gadgets, Gizmos and Garmins

            Getting back into racing, I deluded myself into believing that it couldn’t have changed that much since I left.  After all, training is training, right? Wrong. Someone should have offered me ocean front property in Arizona, I would have bought it.

            Meeting with my new running group was not only daunting for the very idea of trying to keep up with these people, but it was if they spoke another language, and I had no translator. All I could do was nod knowingly without having a clue.

            “Did you see the new Garmin? It’s really cool!”  Garmin? Garmin…Garmin… nope, no translation for Garmin.  Obviously it was not a person, and these were runners, so maybe new shoes? Don’t even get me started on how long it took me to figure out what Hokas were.

            “I left my Garmin in the car, it was about to die.”  Um, pardon? What’s a Garmin? I really did want to ask, but I was intimidated. They knew what a Garmin was, it was obvious they thought I should know what a Garmin was, so I simply nodded and hoped I wouldn’t be asked my opinion on it.

            We began running and I continued to listen to them talk about their Garmins.  I listened, not only because I did not want to reveal how technologically challenged I was but also, at that point I couldn’t run and talk at the same time.  I pride myself on multitasking, but that was asking a little too much of me that early in training. Quickly, the topic turned to other things, and I promised myself that a soon as I got home, I would find out what it was.

            A GPS watch! Are you kidding me? That's awesome!

           A few days later, my coach found someone who was upgrading to a newer Garmin and was wanting to sell his old one. I was so excited to get it, and I wanted to just hold my arm out all practice to show everyone I got initiated into the Garmin group. I put it on, pushed the on button, and stared at it, realizing I had absolutely no idea how to use it. Coach quickly helped out, setting it up for training that night, and I went home determine to figure this out.  Two hours of You Tube videos later, I had the basics down.

          A couple weeks later, Coach asked if I had been downloading my workouts into Garmin Connect. Whoa! There's an APP for that? Cool beans! An hour of downloading the program (my computer is archaic) and a whole lot of clicking to see what this or that link did and presto! I was totally geeking out to all the charts, splits and maps I could possible look at.  The mathematical part of my brain went into happiness overload as I analyzed to my heart's content.

        After this week's practice, Speedy, the Spy and I stood in the shoe shop staring at the Garmin case.  It reminded me of little kids standing on the snowy sidewalks looking at the toy displays in department store windows at Christmas.  Seriously, we were fogging up the case.  As I was drooling over the new triathlete Garmin, the Spy was thinking about a running Garmin, his first. Speedy and I told him what we knew, and in my case, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about, but if he asked me anything too technical, I knew my cover would be blown.  Fortunately, Speedy had the woman's version of the Garmin he wanted, so she could show him what it did.  Whew!

          It may take me a while to get up to speed on all of the advances that have been made since I left, but I must still be old school - nothing beats the cheering, love and support of my friends and running/swimming/biking families.  Love you all, and see you at the finish line :)

Finding a Four Leaf Clover

My first 5k, I was so nervous I barely even thought to look around me.  For my second, I made sure I got there early enough to really take in the experience. I learned that very little of these races have to do with times and what place you come in, other than validation of all the hard work you put in to get there. The real action comes from the people themselves.

Since it was a St. Patrick's Day run, there were tons of runners dressed for the occasion.  I saw green tutus, green striped socks, green bead necklaces and even some green faces.  The atmosphere was jovial, and everyone acted like it was some huge barbecue cook out rather than a race.

The kids ran first, and standing at their finish line, I was able to see some of the most heart warming things I ever have.  They came in flashes, almost like pictures, brief snapshots of time where nothing else had relevance. There was the boy who ran so hard and was so focused that he actually ran out of his shoe and just kept going in his sock.  

The girl with a milder form of cerebral palsy, who used her walker to run the mile (and she did run) with her parents on either side of her.  She would look at her parents to see if they were paying attention, and if they weren't, she would take off faster, causing them to chase her.  All the while, she was laughing and smiling. Once she crossed the finish line, her siblings stood next to her, all of them beaming for the photo.

There was the four year old girl who ran as fast as she could with her father next to her, and when she crossed the finish line first, she screamed with glee that she had beaten her daddy at running. The little boy behind her finished, turned to the little girl, and asked her if she wanted to do it again.

There was the overweight girl who crossed the finish line, and into the arms of her mother. The mother, also overweight, was crying and told her daughter how proud she was and that things were going to be different, that they were all going to get healthy. 

Since it was close to time for the start of the 5k, I went in search of the starting line full of warm fuzzies from what I had seen.  But it didn't stop there.  I soon ran into a former co-worker of mine.  He had gotten into running and had lost more than 80 pounds.  He told me proudly he was going to do his first half Ironman in three weeks in Galveston.  When I had worked with him, we all feared for his health, and here he was, fit and trim. 

As the people crowded the start, the lady next to me chatted me up.  She was 72 years old, and she, along with a group of Winter Texans from her park ran as many of these races as possible. When the younger boys next to her stripped off their shirts, she leaned in next to me and whispered that she was part of a nudist colony and that they often trained naked. Not exactly the visual that I would want in my head, but she seemed so proud of it I couldn't help but laugh with her. Bright eyed and full of laughter, she wished me well on my race, and said she would be chugging along somewhere behind me.

As the race started, I began to think about what I had seen. For some of the people there, this race was a pivotal moment in their lives that would bring them to a better, healthier life. For others, this race was the chance to create some wonderful memories for their families. And for those special few, it was a complete validation of their thought that anything could be possible if they only tried.

Right after I finished, I ran into some good friends of mine who were cheering on their daughter. Fifteen minutes later, who should come jogging up behind me but my new 72 year old nudist friend, with as much vim and vigor as she had started with. My former co-worker also came by, who was making his way back out onto the course to run with the people he had brought with him so they could start losing weight.

In some ways, I feel like I finished the race a different person than the one who came out to run it. I now see running as something other than times and placements.  It is the story of all of us who come together to take part. Whoever you are and whatever your story, the race is your time to shine for simply putting your foot on the starting line. It is a celebration of every time you went running whether you felt like it or not. It is a reward for a healthier choice, and for all the benefits that choice brings.

I felt today like I had found a four leaf clover - discovered something rare and precious.  And I will never look at running the same way again.

What's that?  

How did my race go? 

Oh, well, I cut over a minute off my previous race time, and have a new PR for 5k of 27:08. Color me happy! :)

Splish, Splash

The best part of going back to racing for me has been the return to the pool.  I was four when I started swimming, progressed through all the regular levels, and as a teenager decided to take my lifeguard levels as well so I would have a job in the summers – which I did for 7 years.  I also think it helped that the lifeguard classes were taught by two gorgeous guys with awesome swimmer bodies, but I digress…

As a swimmer, I am genetically deficient. Natural swimmers tend to have long lean bodies (not me), longer legs (really not me), and bigger feet (definitely not me). What I lack in genetics I make up for in spirit. I love the water. Put me in or near it, and you just made me one happy camper. My favorite part of my recent trip to the Dominican Republic? The day trip to the freezing cold waterfalls, where you haul yourself up the waterfalls and then swim down them. If I believed in reincarnation, I probably was a dolphin in a previous life.

I had delayed my swim training knowing that running was my weak sport, but needed to get in the pool so I could see how steep the climb to being race ready was really going to be. Honestly?  I wanted to see if my gills came back. 

There is a pool in my backyard, but starting training in January kind of ruled out its use.  So off to Nikki Rowe High School I went. I had never been on the campus before, and had no clue where the pool was, so I parked my car and took a deep breath.  There it was - the curiously welcoming and very familiar tang of chlorine. Most people can't stand it, but to me it is a reminder of many happy years spent taking lessons and racing. I followed my nose, and quickly found myself at the pool.

I sat for a few moments mentally preparing myself not to have high expectations. I teach swimming in the summer, but this was a different can of worms entirely, and it had been a while since I subjected myself to a swim workout. As I slid into the water, all anxiety faded away. It was like reuniting with a good friend. I started to swim, and felt the power return to my shoulders as I pulled myself through the water.  I watched the bubbles form as my hand entered the water and pulled across for the all important down stroke. It was easy, like I had never left, and I felt my gills return.  I guess I wasn't going to be as aqua challenged as I thought I would be.

It's been almost two months now since I first returned to the pool. Times are good, distances are climbing. A year and two months sounds like a long time, but it will be gone before I know it. I prepare myself for not one race, but four - the swim, the bike, the run, and the mental race all Ironmen face...can I do this?

2.4 miles is a long way to swim. To swim 2.4 miles with 2000 other people at once is daunting for some. For me, the idea is thrilling. Like Dory says "just keep swimming, just keep swimming".