Relationships are funny - even if you take care of them and nurture them, they can fall into these periods where nothing seems to go right. Then you have to make a decision: is what you have invested in the relationship worth saving, or is it time to just walk away?
Recently, my bike Vin and I have been in desperate need of therapy. You would think after being together so long, we would have this communication thing down pat. I really think the trouble began when I went to the open water swim and rode my friend's tri bike instead of her. She had to wait in the hot car, and I'm fairly sure she wasn't too pleased when she saw how happy I was after riding the other bike. Girls and jealousy...
As I wrote in an earlier post, the Mcallen ride was a disaster, and my last two outings after that had been cut short by spectacular blowouts. The first set I understood, after all, the tires were old. The second and third sets, well, let's just say I think Vin was trying to tell me something. I really wish she would have just come out and said it though. Golly, with how much girls love to talk, you would think she could have just TOLD me!
Thankfully, I think I have been forgiven. I got out today and rode 25 miles flat free, and with good average speeds. Whatever issues we were having, I think the worst of it has passed. Good timing too, with less than eight weeks to the Half, this really isn't the time for a communication breakdown.
I'm being very careful with what I say - I don't think it's the right time to tell her that I intend on riding a borrowed bike for the Half. As long as I keep the two of them apart, she'll never know. Do I feel a little guilty? Well, yeah. But Vin's getting old and maybe the Olympic distances are a good length for her. Have to show her the proper love and respect by treating her well in her old age. She's been good to me.
I can't believe the Half is almost here. It seemed like yesterday it was March and I was signing up. Being able to share this race with so many other first timers will make it very special - especially with Esmeralda. That is one fierce lady, and I am honored to share the course with her. Just hope she doesn't beat me by too much, or at least waits for me at the finish line.
For all of you who are joining me in Austin - 8 weeks to go! Hope your training is going well, and see you at the starting line! :)
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
The Ten Second Rule
At the recent open water swim, we had a rather large crowd of newbies. It was awesome to see so many people taking an interest in triathlons. My friend Maggie did her first OWS, and she was a beast!
After the swim, I got to talking to two ladies and I was asked what they could do to get rid of the fear they had when they first started swimming. I may not be the best person to ask, because despite the fact a five foot bull shark was caught on the gulf side the day before, open water just doesn't scare me. But there are plenty of other things that do.
I am terrified of straight drop roller coasters. Love the twisty ones, can ride them all day. But the straight drop ones - you generally have to offer me large sums of money to get me on one. So, relating their question to that situation, I said to them ``I let it take me.``
Both heads snapped around, and they looked at me shocked. Okay, not the answer they were looking for, but this is what I've learned:
Since fear is what we create, and it`s all in our head, then the more we try to fight it the bigger it`s going to become. So for me, I let the panic set it. Then I count to ten. During those ten seconds, I keep moving if I need to, stand still if I don't. Once I get to ten, I imagine the fear slipping away from me. I may still be afraid or nervous, but the panic part will be gone. And then I go and do what I was afraid of, including straight drop roller coasters (but only because Hannah asked me to).Turns out that the straight drop only lasted four seconds, so I had six seconds to spare.
Just in case I get asked that question again, anyone got any other advice to conquer fear?
After the swim, I got to talking to two ladies and I was asked what they could do to get rid of the fear they had when they first started swimming. I may not be the best person to ask, because despite the fact a five foot bull shark was caught on the gulf side the day before, open water just doesn't scare me. But there are plenty of other things that do.
I am terrified of straight drop roller coasters. Love the twisty ones, can ride them all day. But the straight drop ones - you generally have to offer me large sums of money to get me on one. So, relating their question to that situation, I said to them ``I let it take me.``
Both heads snapped around, and they looked at me shocked. Okay, not the answer they were looking for, but this is what I've learned:
Since fear is what we create, and it`s all in our head, then the more we try to fight it the bigger it`s going to become. So for me, I let the panic set it. Then I count to ten. During those ten seconds, I keep moving if I need to, stand still if I don't. Once I get to ten, I imagine the fear slipping away from me. I may still be afraid or nervous, but the panic part will be gone. And then I go and do what I was afraid of, including straight drop roller coasters (but only because Hannah asked me to).Turns out that the straight drop only lasted four seconds, so I had six seconds to spare.
Just in case I get asked that question again, anyone got any other advice to conquer fear?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
The Non-Finisher Medal
Let me start by saying - I've had a really bad week. Usually I have a bad day here or there or a few hours that are off, but for some reason, starting Tuesday morning, ugh! Really. Bad. Week.
I'm fairly good at the whole brave face thing, but I knew even that wasn't going to last, so when I heard about the Viva McAllen bike ride, I thought to myself, excellent! Road therapy! I needed a long ride anyway, and hey, it's been a while since I got a medal for my collection. Plus, I wanted to see if all this interval and spinning work was actually working for me.
Esmeralda was also doing the 60, so it was like Shiner, the Sequel. Minus the hills, of course. She was all amped up, but I was pretty mellow, just looking forward to getting out the ickiness of the week in the form of some really solid times, and buckets of sweat.
Things started well enough. Got some compliments from cyclists about how good my form and cadence were, and maintained a good average speed. At about mile ten, we went over some railroad tracks that seemed a little bumpier than usual. A little further ahead, I saw the SAG vehicle repairing flats. Wow, that sucks, I thought. So early in the ride and poor people got a flat.
It started getting harder to maintain my speed. I checked my form, and was letting the hamsters in my head figure it out when a lady came up behind me and told me my back tire was a little saggy. Thirty seconds later, it was completely flat. Huh. Okay.
Now, I know the theory behind changing a tire. I say that because in my racing time before, I never had a flat. Not once. I was actually kind of excited, because I had a CO2 cartridge and wanted to see if it was as cool as everyone said. Got the tire off, replaced the tube, put the canister on...and nothing. Hmm, maybe I did it wrong. Re-positioned the canister, and...nothing. Meanwhile, all these people are passing me, and my ride for time just became a survival ride.
The SAG vehicle showed up, and the guy had a pump, bless him! Tire fixed, off I go. I motored as fast as I could and manage to keep my legs fresh. I was fairly happy, maintaining a 20mph pace. On my bike, that's a fair accomplishment. Just past mile twenty, I caught up to two guys. We stopped at a light, got started and about a block in - my tire popped and went flat. I'm not sure how many expletives I actually said, but there were enough going on in my head. No flats for 22 YEARS, and now two within an hour, are you kidding me?
The guys were kind enough to stop to help, but when another SAG vehicle came up, I waved them on. They encouraged me to keep going, they expected me to pass them again. Just let me get this tire changed...
Mitchel and Oscar cracked jokes with me as we fixed the tire, trying to keep me positive. Poor Oscar, we made him take apart the wheel three times before it could be inflated. Once it was, I looked at the tire and something was off. Sure enough, one of the flats had shredded the side of the tire itself. I was done.
Now, Oscar drives a Scion. While I could spend some time here mocking the wanna-be-a-car car, he was gracious enough to stuff me, my bike, Mitchel and himself into said non-car, so no jokes will be made. However, part of the bike and I did have to hang out of the back of the car while he drove 70 mph down the expressway. I tried very hard not to look down, and kept a firm grip on the bike.
Getting back to the start at the Convention Center, Mitchel starting joking about how this would make for an interesting blog. She told Oscar he should read it. He asked me where to find it. I had already "liked" Veloce magazine, so I suggested we become friends on Facebook. He starts looking me up, and lo and behold, we already were friends. We started cracking up. Big thanks to the both of them. They helped me out, and helped keep me positive. Good people.
Mitchel wanted me to get my medal. I felt bad about it. In my mind, I didn't finish, so I didn't deserve the medal. She kept encouraging me, so her and I went to the finish line. She went over to the people handing out the medals. I have no idea what she told the lady, but I got called over, and after asking me if I was okay, she handed me my medal. I jokingly said it was my non-finishers medal. In the end, I'm glad she got me to do it.
Perspective time - my tires were original to the bike. Considering how old they are, it's really not surprising they gave out. It could have been much worse - this could have happened at Ironman. Or even worse, I could have had the blowout when I was going full speed and wiped out, really harming the bike...I mean myself. Ah, who am I kidding, Skin heals.
Overall, it was a bad ending to a bad week. But it happened, it's over (hopefully), and once I have some time to lick my wounds (and purchase new tires), everything will be okay.
As I was driving home, I heard this loud pop behind me, and a hiss. I figured it was the other tire giving out. I glanced behind me, and it was the CO2 cartridge, finally discharging. I sat there shocked for a few seconds and then starting laughing. Cause on days/weeks like these, it's better to laugh than cry.
I'm fairly good at the whole brave face thing, but I knew even that wasn't going to last, so when I heard about the Viva McAllen bike ride, I thought to myself, excellent! Road therapy! I needed a long ride anyway, and hey, it's been a while since I got a medal for my collection. Plus, I wanted to see if all this interval and spinning work was actually working for me.
Esmeralda was also doing the 60, so it was like Shiner, the Sequel. Minus the hills, of course. She was all amped up, but I was pretty mellow, just looking forward to getting out the ickiness of the week in the form of some really solid times, and buckets of sweat.
Things started well enough. Got some compliments from cyclists about how good my form and cadence were, and maintained a good average speed. At about mile ten, we went over some railroad tracks that seemed a little bumpier than usual. A little further ahead, I saw the SAG vehicle repairing flats. Wow, that sucks, I thought. So early in the ride and poor people got a flat.
It started getting harder to maintain my speed. I checked my form, and was letting the hamsters in my head figure it out when a lady came up behind me and told me my back tire was a little saggy. Thirty seconds later, it was completely flat. Huh. Okay.
Now, I know the theory behind changing a tire. I say that because in my racing time before, I never had a flat. Not once. I was actually kind of excited, because I had a CO2 cartridge and wanted to see if it was as cool as everyone said. Got the tire off, replaced the tube, put the canister on...and nothing. Hmm, maybe I did it wrong. Re-positioned the canister, and...nothing. Meanwhile, all these people are passing me, and my ride for time just became a survival ride.
The SAG vehicle showed up, and the guy had a pump, bless him! Tire fixed, off I go. I motored as fast as I could and manage to keep my legs fresh. I was fairly happy, maintaining a 20mph pace. On my bike, that's a fair accomplishment. Just past mile twenty, I caught up to two guys. We stopped at a light, got started and about a block in - my tire popped and went flat. I'm not sure how many expletives I actually said, but there were enough going on in my head. No flats for 22 YEARS, and now two within an hour, are you kidding me?
The guys were kind enough to stop to help, but when another SAG vehicle came up, I waved them on. They encouraged me to keep going, they expected me to pass them again. Just let me get this tire changed...
Mitchel and Oscar cracked jokes with me as we fixed the tire, trying to keep me positive. Poor Oscar, we made him take apart the wheel three times before it could be inflated. Once it was, I looked at the tire and something was off. Sure enough, one of the flats had shredded the side of the tire itself. I was done.
Now, Oscar drives a Scion. While I could spend some time here mocking the wanna-be-a-car car, he was gracious enough to stuff me, my bike, Mitchel and himself into said non-car, so no jokes will be made. However, part of the bike and I did have to hang out of the back of the car while he drove 70 mph down the expressway. I tried very hard not to look down, and kept a firm grip on the bike.
Getting back to the start at the Convention Center, Mitchel starting joking about how this would make for an interesting blog. She told Oscar he should read it. He asked me where to find it. I had already "liked" Veloce magazine, so I suggested we become friends on Facebook. He starts looking me up, and lo and behold, we already were friends. We started cracking up. Big thanks to the both of them. They helped me out, and helped keep me positive. Good people.
Mitchel wanted me to get my medal. I felt bad about it. In my mind, I didn't finish, so I didn't deserve the medal. She kept encouraging me, so her and I went to the finish line. She went over to the people handing out the medals. I have no idea what she told the lady, but I got called over, and after asking me if I was okay, she handed me my medal. I jokingly said it was my non-finishers medal. In the end, I'm glad she got me to do it.
Perspective time - my tires were original to the bike. Considering how old they are, it's really not surprising they gave out. It could have been much worse - this could have happened at Ironman. Or even worse, I could have had the blowout when I was going full speed and wiped out, really harming the bike...I mean myself. Ah, who am I kidding, Skin heals.
Overall, it was a bad ending to a bad week. But it happened, it's over (hopefully), and once I have some time to lick my wounds (and purchase new tires), everything will be okay.
As I was driving home, I heard this loud pop behind me, and a hiss. I figured it was the other tire giving out. I glanced behind me, and it was the CO2 cartridge, finally discharging. I sat there shocked for a few seconds and then starting laughing. Cause on days/weeks like these, it's better to laugh than cry.
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