Couples Therapy

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! :)

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?

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.

Ghosts of Coaches Past

At first, it all seemed so simple...girl met race, girl trained for race, girl finished race, girl fell in love with racing.  Yeah, too simple.

Back in reality, training can be your best friend, or your worst enemy depending on the day. Running was coming along (slowly but surely), biking I was struggling with (but with the help from some awesome cyclists, it's starting to come together), and I figured I had swimming in the bag.  Just to be sure, I contacted a ghost from my past - my original triathlon coach, Brian, to get reassurance on my swim technique.  He had been a competitive swimmer, been trained under the wing of a four time Para-Olympian Gold Medalist, and had spent the last 20 years coaching at all levels.  Plus, he has known me since I was 15.  I don't think there is anyone who knows what makes me tick like him.

At first, the conversation was quite chatty - his wife, kids, Hannah, teaching and such. Soon, we turned to our favorite topic, swimming (occupational hazard for him, obsessive fixation for me).  I had already told him about training for Ironman, and his reaction was that the only person who did not believe I could do it back in college was me. He knew I could. But then came the million dollar question: did I want to "do" an Ironman, or did I want to "race" an Ironman. You can imagine my answer.

He asked me to film my swim, both above and under the water, and send it to him for analysis.  There's this cool app called Coach's Eye.  It lets you look at a video frame by frame, and you can draw on it to show different things. Highly recommend it for any sport. A lot of times what we think we are doing and what we are really doing are two different things. Film shot and sent, I waited.

A few days later, Brian called.  I asked him what he thought and he was quiet...too quiet. Then he said something I was not expecting at all.  He said the video wanted to make him cry.  Pardon?

Turns out I am what is called a front quadrant swimmer.

Confused? Me too.

It's a technique where all the emphasis is placed in front of the shoulders.  It's almost impossible to teach, so to find someone who does it naturally is a coach's dream.

Sounds great, right?  Wrong.

It is a sprinter's stroke. Not at all effective for an endurance sport. I could "do" the triathlon with it but...well, you know where I'm going with that.

List of corrections in hand, I have spent the last week or so trying to learn a new way of swimming.  Frustration does not even begin to describe how I feel. I'm sure I look like a suffocating fish flailing about. If I did not place great faith in Brian's ability, I would have chucked the idea this close to the Half. But like the Christmas Carol, my ghost of Coaches past has come to teach me something, and I have to learn it to go forward.

He knows me well enough that there is only one reaction he will give me to my frustration - he laughs at me. Then he makes a few sarcastic comments about my ability and, like throwing a grenade, waits..3..2..1. Boom - I get all fired up to go back and get it done. Like I said before, different people get coached different ways.  Soft and gentle doesn't work for me - I do best when that competitive spirit is lit, and I'm given a challenge. Turns out that works out well for Brian, since he thrives on sarcasm and cynicism.

I've got three months to make this work, and then six months to refine it. I wish I had Brian's faith in me that I'll get it done, but all I can do is just keep at it, and wait for it to click. So click, darn it, click!

See you on the flip side!

Musings of a Sugar Rush

Tonight was GNO, and I allowed myself a soft drink (gasp!).  So now, in the midst of a full blown sugar rush, I present to you what I have learned so far from training for triathlons - in no particular order:

1. Sometimes it is better to swim in murky water just so you don't know what's swimming under you.

2. Sometimes it is better to swim in clear water so you can try to avoid what is swimming under you.

3. NOBODY looks good in a swim cap.

4. If, when taking a breath, you get water in your mouth, never swallow it.  You don't know what the person in front of you did before you got there.

5. Nobody looks graceful while trying to take off a wetsuit quickly.

6. Make sure your feet are fully clipped into your pedals before starting high cadence.

7. Look behind you before clearing your nose while on the bike.

8. There is no topic off limits while on a training ride, so be prepared to hear some really personal and/or weird stuff. You are on the bike a long time, and you need to talk about something to forget how much you hurt.

9. No matter how long you have been training, your nether regions do not become calloused to the bike seat.

10. Gravity works - leaning over too far or looking over your shoulder is a sure fire way to find out how much road rash your body can tolerate.

11. Slow down on the bike coming into transition - the volunteers are not bowling pins.

12.  Know the difference between your front and back brake, especially when riding downhill.

13. For the first mile or so of the run, your legs will feel funny after coming off the bike.  Chances are, you will run funny too.  So will everyone else, so it's ok.

14. There is no such thing as a safe way of passing gas on the run - you don't know what else may happen.

15. They put the your age on your calf for a reason - so you can see who is ahead of you, and you can run them down and crush them before the finish.

16. It is a talent to be able to run and drink from a dixie cup at the same time.  If you haven't mastered it, walk or be prepared to be wearing it.

17.  Always save a little bit for the end so you look strong at the finish.  No one needs to know you were crawling the mile before.

18. It is the only time that talking to yourself is perfectly acceptable.

19. Plan to stay somewhere that has an elevator, or stay on the first floor.  After the race, a single flight of stairs may as well be Everest.

And, the most important.....

20.  Always, always, always, know where the cameramen are.  Plaster a smile on your face so everyone can be impressed with how strong you look.  You can throw up as soon as you are past them.


Sugar is starting to wear off, and my finger that I fractured today in a freak dreadmill accident is beginning to throb. 3 months and 18 days to the Half Ironman.  See you on the other side of the finish line!

The Ultimate Question

Recently I was asked what at first seemed like a irrelevant question.  While out at dinner, my date asked me if I did triathlons and wanted to finish Ironman because I thought it would "fix" me. Kind of deep for a date. I didn't take it offensively, since he was not a runner or athlete of any kind.  Had he been, he probably never would have needed the answer to that question. I asked him to give me a moment to think about it before I answered.

We all have our stories as to why we start this journey, and usually those stories have a lot of pain and loss involved.  Many times I have asked my fellow triathletes why they got into the sport.  Cancer, death, divorce, being bullied, dysfunctional home life as a child, wanting to lose weight, take your pick.  It turns out if you ask the question and just listen, people are happy to share. Those stories tend to build on themselves.  When others with similar experiences hear how you have overcome obstacles, they get inspired to do the same. It's the best part of endurance sports.

I sat for some time before I answered.  There are people in my life who know parts of my story, those that know more, and a select few people who know it all (and seem to still like me anyway). I felt like in that moment I was the representative for all of us, and wanted to make sure I gave the best answer possible.  I give the guy credit, he understood this was a big question and gave me the time I wanted to think about it.

We joke about training being cheaper than therapy. There is just something about putting your emotional pain into a physical workout, and tiring out your body so your brain will, for at least a little bit, stop working in overdrive. Endorphins give us a natural boost, and we build confidence as we see our body respond. As our limits become redefined, and we see that we can accomplish more than we thought we could, our viewpoint changes.  Life no longer throws us back and forth - we stand strong against what would try to take us down. When things get hard, we turn to training.  It is constant, always there for us, and generally doesn't talk back.

It is also a natural tendency to surround ourselves with those who are pursuing the same or similar goals.  Those ahead of us inspire us, and those behind us are inspired by us. These people understand why we push ourselves, what sparks our drive, and are willing to help push us on the days when motivation is hard to find.  The strongest metals are forged by fire, and each setback or disappointment we face in life refine us as long as we don't give up on the process.

These people see on a daily basis how far you have come, and celebrate the accomplishments with you.  They are there on the bad days, when the workouts don't come together, or the even worse days, when life hits you so hard you don't want to workout, and are tempted to give up on your goals. (I had one day like that, and had some great people talk me down from the ledge.)  The best training family members come out and get you, kick your sorry butt out the door, and make you workout until you find your footing again.

Realizing there was no way I could convey all of that, I came up with the simplest, most honest answer I could.

I started training because I needed an anchor, something I could hold onto as the storm passed.  But I will finish Ironman not because I was "fixed" by it, but because I have come to realize I always was "fixed". Training just helps you sort through all the garbage that covers up who you always were. As you get stronger, those qualities that got pushed deep inside come out, and you see the value in yourself you may not have seen before. You no longer settle to be treated badly by others or even yourself, and face adversity with confidence, knowing what you have already accomplished.

He took that in, and then we started talking about something else.  But the conversation has sat with me since then.

In the past couple of weeks, I have been having these periods of time when I am incredibly happy.  There is no specific reason for it, no event that triggered it.  It has not (yet) happened right after an accomplishment, good training, or when something really good has happened in my daily life.  It just sneaks up on me, and I get a big smile on my face. At first, I have to admit it freaked me out. Now, I am willing to accept it, and bask in it.  It is the truest form of happiness: not tied to anyone or anything, but because in that moment, I am content with who I am, where I am, and know I will attain my goals.  Everything is at peace, and I see who I really am outside of the things I have gone through.  One of my goals now is to have that feeling all the time, regardless of who is around me or what I'm going through. I feel blessed to have these moments, and am grateful for them, and for every workout that got me here.

Have a great day everyone and happy endorphins!

Darth Gator Strikes Back

Javi and I were excited about Gatorbait.  For Javi, it was the start of triathlons.  For me, it was my first post CapTex race, and I wanted to see how much I had improved. Lake swim, hilly bike, longer run.  No problem! (Murphy's Law: when someone says "no problem", you know what's coming)

We got there and started setting up our transition areas.  I had broken the cardinal rule of triathlons - you are never supposed to try something new the day of the race.  But tired of long transition times because of having to fully change outfits with each sport, I bought a tri suit the day before.  You are supposed to train with any new clothes first to make sure you don't run into problems, but I figured the risk was worth it.  

I kept thinking I must have forgotten something, since it didn't take me long at all to set up, but it turns out I have just gotten effective at it.  Javi had gotten run into by someone's bike, and have a nice little gouge on his leg, but he didn't seem too concerned about it, so off we went to the race meeting.

These are generally very dull, and I pay about as much attention to them as Charlie Brown's teacher (wah, wah, wah, wah, wah) but this time, I was trying to set a good example for Javi - very glad I did.  The county had chip sealed the first three miles of the bike course two days before the race, which meant there was no time for car grooves to be created.  It was the equivalent of riding through heavy mud. Since it was a loop, that meant the last three miles would also feel that way.  We were also told about Heartbreak Hill - aptly named since when people saw it, they wanted to cry.  We were told to walk it if we had to, but to be very careful on the way down - you could easily hit 55 mph.  My thought was (as a Physics teacher), if it had the steepness and length to create a 55 mph downhill, what was this thing going to be like to climb up??

Instead of a mass start, we had a mini wave start.  People were let out at five second intervals based upon their bib number or seed time.  I joked with the people around me, trying to keep Javi calm as we waited for our turn.

The water was a little choppy (Javi would say, "a LITTLE choppy?") but I kept good time.  Javi was behind me, and I hoped he was having a good swim.  About halfway through, I brought up my head to sight and WHOA, there was a kayak right in front of me.  For some reason that only made sense to the guy in the kayak, he had crossed my path and stopped to give another swimmer a rest.  I had to make a quick decision - around or under?  I opted for under, and kept going.

You can imagine my surprise when I got out of the water and there was Javi.  Now, my first thought was that while he had gotten stronger, there was no way he had beaten me out of the water.  My second thought was to question if he had gotten in.  Turns out, he started, but when the waves started forcing water in his mouth, he panicked and got brought it.  Happens to all of us at some point, and I'm proud he tried it at all.  The race directors said he could continue with the bike and run to get a feel for the triathlon as a whole.  We ran to transition together and got on our bikes.

Chip seal - bane of my existence.  I kept looking down to see if I maybe had a flat, that's what it felt like trying to bike through it.  Once past it, there was a nice little series of inclines leading up to Heartbreak Hill.  I was determined (stubborn) to ride up it, no way I was going to walk. I watched my Garmin, Heartbreak Hill was also the turn around point.  I came around a long winding turn, and there it was.

Doesn't look too bad, does it?  Yeah, it's deceptive that way.  Took advantage of a slight decline to gain some momentum, and off I went.  I saw others already walking their bikes.  I think I can, I think I can, I...think...I...can.  Slow but steady, I kept climbing.  At about two thirds of the way up, I thought to myself - I am going to do it! 

Murphy's Law: you haven't done it until you have actually done it.  I looked down at my feet, and my back tire had caught a rock.  Unable to get my feet out of the clips in time, I fell over like a tree. Annnnnd, now I'm walking. Later I would find out that little mishap cost me fifth place, but c'est la vie!

The return trip of the bike you flew, since all those inclines now became declines.  Except for the chip seal, that still biked like mud. I saw Javi as he was approaching Heartbreak Hill, but I figured there was nothing I was going to be able to say to make the experience any better, and no way to truly express what he was about to see.

The first mile of the run was trail - lots of hills, wash rocks and low lying branches.  Not used to trail running, I relied on the tips Mari had given me the week before.  I was happy to get on the flat part.  This I knew.  I concentrated on negative splits every half mile and started checking legs as I caught up to runners for my age category.  56, 29, 48...all good.  Near the finish I saw what I thought was a 48, but as I got closer was a 44.  There was no way I could lose a place so close to the finish, so I started sprinting.  As I passed her, she realized what was going on and took after me, but it was too late, sixth place was mine! :)

As Lisa and I waited for Javi, I began to get concerned.  We should have seen him by now.  All of a sudden, he passed by the far side of the finish, about a mile away from the end of the course.  I asked the directors if I could run with him, and they said yes.  So I took off, and Javi and I talked about the race and what the next race would be.

His daughter Chloe helped him run into the finish, and then we were both done!

Javi will need more exposure to different swimming conditions (and just a lot more swimming) before he will feel confident in the water.  Considering he could not swim a few months ago, I am very proud of what he accomplished.  I know he will conquer the tri, and I plan to be there when it happens.  Congratulations Javi!

Now if only my hair would grow out faster so that I didn't look like I had stuck my finger in a light socket...