With One Eye To The Future

    I have been intentionally taking it easy the last few weeks, recuperating from my half-Ironman, and resting up for the Portland Marathon. This last week has thrown a rock in the cogs, I came down with a cold. Not a particularly nasty cold, but it has settled into my lungs, so I have been gentle with my body, swimming only once, and cycling twice. Funny thing, my mantra in the weeks leading up to my A Race was, "stay whole, stay healthy." And I did, but it was as if as soon as I let my guard down, relaxed my vigil, the first virus that came along snuck in under my sheild and attacked. I can't be too upset, I did stay whole and healthy all summer long. I told myself that if I were recovered from this cold by today, one week from the marathon, I could run it. But I am not recovered. My lungs ache, and I sound like an escapee from a tuberculosis ward. What this means is that I will not be running the marathon. There is no way my body would hold up to 26 miles either running or speed walking, in what will very likely be cold, wet weather. I would do my body far more harm than even my desire to compete can justify. Pushing the body as hard as endurance racing requires can lower the immune system, letting what is a minor virus erupt into a situation that could take me down long and hard. Between recovering from my race, and trying to recuperate from a virus has given me far more down time from training than I like. I am so accustomed to a hard workout at least six days a week, that slimming it down to three or four moderate days is messing with my head a little. It is also forcing me to not complete what I have been thinking of as the Icing on the Season. Granted, marathon is not my gig, not what I have trained for, so it would have been a bit of a struggle. But, being what could be misconstrued as sado-masochistic, I like a struggle. I actually feel more victorious after an event if there was some major suffering involved. I know, that is probably not a healthy mentality, but it is what it is. It is who I am. I like to push myself further than I probably should. What is the point of doing something easy? It should always be a challenge.
    All that being said, with one eye to the future, I am mentally working on my new training regimen. I am excited to be adding mountain biking to my training program. It will add strength and endurance to my cycling, as well as open the door to competing in off-road triathlons. That gives me a thrill of excitement as it is something I have been eyeing all summer. Everyone knows how much I prefer trail running to road running, and that would make the whole triathlon experience that much more fun. There are a number of off road triathlons around the state that would be exciting to compete in.
    During and after my 70.3 I have felt that it is the racing distance for me. It seemed perfect for my body. I want to continue training, increasing my speed and endurance in all three disciplines. I would like to shave a solid hour off of my time, and I know I can do just that. I need a more solid running base, there is no doubt about it. With better running speed and endurance, I can expend more energy swimming and running, because in theory I won't need to be so stingy, needing to hold back as much as possible for the run. In theory. I do plan on doing at least two 70.3 races next year, and a 140.6. Now, to start building that running base.
    Running, CrossFit, plyometrics, and mountain biking, added to continuing swimming and cycling. Increasing intensity, speedwork, and pushing the envelope on cardio and lactate threshold workouts. That is the plan. Explosive, intense workouts. Strength training. Core work. Speed and stamina. Power and agility. So much to work on, I am so excited. I learned so much this last year, to add to what I learned the year before, projecting into the coming year. I want to start today, and maybe this evening, I will.

Food. The Enemy?

    On occasion I get a trifle annoyed that food has become The Enemy. Not by my choice, let me remind you. This has been a sneaky, subversive attack, unwarranted, unwanted, undeserved, unappreciated. I feel as if a long loved friend suddenly turned against me. Maybe it is my fault to a degree. I used to turn to my comforting friend, Food, when I was melancholy, or tired, or celebrating, and I have now turned my back on Food, turning to other, more productive methods of alleviating stress, assuaging emotions, or savoring triumph. I have spurned the tempting advances of foods that I know to be delicious, satisfying, and decadent, though less than optimal fuel for my engine. Could it be that Food is not the enemy, but retaliating against me and my diabolically healthful ways? I have wondered. It does seem as if the healthier I eat, the healthier I have to eat, or suffer dire consequences for ill advised choices. But where Food becomes The Enemy is in the random, sporadic attacks of gastrointestinal distress brought about by foods that have been previously deemed healthy, nutritionally dense, and perfect. I have run the gauntlet of late: raw mouth, burning and tingling of mouth and tongue, heartburn, cramps, bloating, sharp pain, dull pain, annoying pain. The odd thing is that a food that has been a staple will suddenly cause me severe problems, case in point: tree nuts, and bananas. Yes, bananas. A staple of my diet for their easy digestibility, palatability, good carbs, and potassium. Just the last week or so, I have noticed a burning sensation in my mouth when I eat them, followed by heartburn and various other less savory symptoms that I hesitate to mention in polite company. I'm pretty peeved over this one, I eat a lot of g'damned bananas.
    As much as I like being able to handle things on my own, figure out my own quirks, analyze issues, find solutions, I am thinking it may be time to call on the professionals. I am a hair's breadth from seeing an allergist. So many of my symptoms are allergy-like: burning mouth, sore tongue, chronic congestion in my throat and bronchia. The other option is to go on a cleansing fast, then add items one at a time. The downside of this is that I work out too prodigiously to not be eating a healthy assortment of nutrient dense foods. I have already dropped below what I think of as optimal weight. Okay, that is a bit of a lie. I am kinda stoked about my current weight, but I definitely don't need to drop any more, and need fuel to build and rebuild muscle. I am at a bit of a loss. I know I can keep eating foods that fuel me properly, and just suffer the consequences. But just how healthy is it for me to eat foods that are causing obvious inflammation? It is beyond frustrating. I want to be able to eat whatever the hell I want to, be it a PB&J, or a double cheeseburger, or a vegan taco, without worrying about the aftermath. So, until there is a dramatic change, a truce, an armistice, a cease fire, Food continues to be The Enemy

Run Long

    Counting down to the next Big One. In just over two weeks I will run my first marathon. I know I have not properly trained to run 26+ miles, instead I have trained to cover 70.3 miles, only 13.2 of which are running. A Half-Ironman was my ultimate goal, and I grabbed that gold ring. A marathon will be a triumph, but I don't see it in quite the same light. Running has been my Achilles's Heel from the very beginning of my triathlon journey. My joints just don't allow me to run the mileage that most long course, and endurance athletes run. I have trained hard, substituting strength training, plyometrics, and crazy amounts of cycling for some of the miles I wish I could have been running. I am pretty sure that it has been my lack of running miles that contributed to the nearly debilitating leg cramps I experienced for a goodly portion of the half-marathon leg of my long course tri. And now, I am a few weeks out from attempting to run twice that distance. Am I insane? Well, yes, I do seem to be a bit of a lunatic. I am salving my nerves with the knowledge that The Portland Marathon will very likely be the flattest course I have run in the last 12 months, except for my Olympic Tri in August. All of my long running events have been at the least quite hilly, at worst they were brutally steep. The running leg of my long course tri was very hilly, with almost zero level ground. I know that it is too late in the game to do anything about my base level of running fitness, that it why I am fretting. I remind myself that the last half marathon I ran was literally right on the heels of a 1.2 mile swim, and a 56 mile bike ride, so it is not exactly comparing apples to apples. And my last running only event was the Hagg Lake Half, which had some very steep hills. I think the wisest thing for me to do at this point is exactly what I have been doing: cycling, some running, plyometrics, core strengthening, strength training, and plenty of stretching. I have run several long events with no ill effects, this should be no different. It is just that after suffering through miles of such agonizing cramps I am feeling just a tad flinchy. I would really rather not go through that again. Ever. Ever. I know I will run at my penguin pace, just aiming to finish in decent time, and with little or no walking. That is my goal. Yes, this is gonna hurt. But pain is temporary, triumph is everlasting.

Recovery Observations

   It has been a fascinating few weeks, observing just how Body has reacted to the epic adventure I just put it through. Yes, there was pain, but it truly was negligible. There was only about a 24 hour period when my legs made me want to cry, and at a few points, want to vomit. After that, I was no more sore than I would have been after a particularly strenuous workout. My energy level has bounced back quickly, and I've been able to put in decent workouts this week. I know I should probably spend more time allowing for recovery, but I am not pushing myself more than about 75% max. Besides, my season isn't over yet, I still have my first marathon staring at me from about 2 weeks out. My sleep has still been a bit wonky, but that could be due to the changing weather, Autumn looming.
    I had fully expected to be ravenously hungry last week, but I was surprised to actually have less of an appetite than my normal, chronic need to fuel. But that all changed this week. I have felt like a bottomless pit. I can't seem to shovel in enough food to keep the hunger pangs at bay. Two nights this week I even overdid it with organic, dark chocolate, and peanut butter as a late snack. I think Body is attempting to reverse the seven pound deficit it accrued over the last three weeks. I'm okay with that. I don't need to be running my engine so lean, maybe next year as I head into my big event, but not now, not as I recover from hard training and a milestone event. Besides, I do have a few big events left, and need to have my energy as fully recovered as possible. If that means late night noshing on dark chocolate and peanut butter to top off my tanks, so be it, it's not like I am inclined to do that very often. I will say, I am reining in that particular indulgence, a little bit anyway.
    I am actually rather astonished at how much energy I had right after the race, and how quickly Body seems to have recovered. It gives me hope that next year, when I attempt 140.6 miles, or The Epic 250K, however I want to think of it, that I won't totally wreck myself. Now I just have to figure out how to train enough. That is always the dilemma, there is just not enough time.

Steady State Aerobic

    On an interesting aside is the weight shift I experience after an arduous event. The Big One is a perfect example. I went into the race at a solid 155 pounds. Now, one would think that the next day I would weigh less, due to calorie burn and inevitable dehydration. No. I weighed an easy 160 pounds, and carried the extra weight for 4 days. I know what it is. It is a combination of increased blood volume, which occurs in endurance events, and muscle inflammation, which is also inevitable. Yesterday morning, 7 days after the race, I am down to 153 pounds. That is the calorie burn registering on the scale. I thought I would be ravenously hungry all week, but actually my appetite was fairly moderate. It helps that my heirloom tomatoes are in full production right now so I have been gorging on tomatoes with every meal at home.
    I don't want to stay at this weight. I never in my life thought I would say, "I need to put on a few pounds." Yes, I still see the bit of fat around my waist that bugs me, but I am female, and not wanting to sport ripped, six-pack abs. I have two more major events in the next few weeks: The Firefighter Stairclimb, and The Portland Marathon. I will go into each of these at whatever weight my body settles at after fully recovering from 70.3 miles.
    I do know that one of the keys to the weight loss that has occurred over this last year, from 170 down to 155, the last vestiges of being overweight, has been cycling for long periods of time at a fat burning aerobic rate. The body has to learn to burn fat. A body will burn the glycogen stores in the muscles, then feel tired. It does not want to tap into the fat stores. But it can be trained to do so with long, steady state, aerobic exercise such as cycling, swimming, and/or running at a steady rate. Go just hard enough to elevate the pulse and respiration, but don't go so hard that your tongue is dragging in the dirt, and your heart is trying to pound its way through your ribcage.
    This was just rolling around in my brain this morning.

Plan Of Attack

    As obsessive as I am, and you all know just how obsessive that can be, I am already getting excited for next year's challenge: The Leadman Epic 250K Triathlon. I am already starting to mull over a new training regimine, a plan of attack that will have heavy focus on cycling, since I will be facing 138 mile bike ride. I think I may have found a partner in crime to train with, and this makes me even more excited to get underway. I have always trained alone, it is just my way. I like the solitude of solo efforts. Which is part of the appeal of triathlon, it is a solitary endeavor from the moment you set foot on the event ground. But I know that having a training partner that shares my mindset, and has experience in road racing, will push me to go further and faster than I am likely to do on my own. Don't get me wrong, I can, and do, push myself far and hard. No one can say I don't train with diligence, that I don't push myself damned hard, that I am not disciplined. But I like the idea of having just a bit of the whip to make me truly reach deep within my soul to find out just how much more I can push.
    Above and beyond road miles, I will be upping the ante with some serious CrossFit and Tabata style training. This style of workout involves going through a series of strength exercises, doing as many reps as possible in 20 seconds, rest 10 seconds, move on to the next exercise, continuing for 5 to 7 sets. I am already making a mental list of workouts to build strength and explosive power. I will be adding plenty of (or should I say, "even more"?) plyometrics, legwork, and core strengthening. I am planning on revamping my garage for some serious heavy work, and continuing to abuse my living room with all the gear I have piled up there. I will be increasing my upper body work, and adding more speedwork at the pool to get ready for a 3+ mile swim. That is a damned long swim. I know it will be difficult for me to increase the time I spend working out, so I need to increase the intensity. Work harder and smarter.
    I have over a year to be ready for The Leadman, and I plan on competing in at least one 70.3 next year, if not several. A year seems like a long time at this moment, but I know from the season that is winding down that the year goes by damned fast. Time to get training.

The Gateway Drug

    I have always been a user, to some degree or another, at least since I was about 18. It really did start my senior year in high school, when I attended college instead of high school. True, I had dabbled from about 7th grade on. But college was when it really began. It started innocently enough, with Ballet. That quickly escalated to Jazz and Modern dance, with weight lifting added in as a supplement. Shortly after that I was an instructor at a gym, and that is when weight lifting became my preferred high. Oh, I dabbled in other activities, racquet sports, Jazzercise, aerobics classes, but always came back to weight lifting as the easy, mellow buzz, and one I could access on my own. Armored combat came into my life over 15 years ago, and it was a rush, but too sporadic, and it introduced me the the gut clenching, sweat dripping, hardcore blast of a heavy bag workout. But that wasn't sustainable over time, too much potential body damage, too reliant on others. Stepping away from armored combat, I continued with the mild buzz of weight lifting, it sustained me through dark times, an antidepressant. It was surgery that brought me face to face with what would become my drug of choice. Sheerly by accident, a chance remark from my physical therapist, "You can swim and cycle all you want." That was it, the door opened; Sprint Triathlon, amped up by glorious visions of Ironman. I was hooked. I admit, as with any hardcore drug it took me a little time to adjust, some uncomfortable, painful, even nauseous moments. I started small and easy, thinking "just this once." Isn't that what all addicts think? Just once? There were times when I wanted to quit, struggled with rising addiction, almost walked away. But I was hooked. Sometimes, the build up to the high was almost more than I could stomach, but then the endorphins kick in and all the pain and misery fall away. Now, I need more. Bigger and better. There will be more pain and misery, but I am prepared to suffer just to experience that amazing buzz. I can't go back to the small doses, that just won't cut it. I've found 70.3 and it is glorious, I can only imagine what 140.6 will feel like. I want to put out a public service announcement, "Sprint Triathlon, the Gateway Drug."

What Next?

    It is not here yet, but I am pretty sure it is on the way. Post Event Depression. I have had such a specific focus for so long I almost feel like the rug has been yanked out from underneath me. To head off a potential crash I am already formulating my next epic adventure. As a matter of fact, I have been eyeballing a few things for quite some time. I knew that once I had completed The Big One I would have to have another focal point or I would likely flounder. I think I have found next seasons grand finale: The Leadman Epic 250K Triathlon in Bend. It is 155.3 miles and distributed differently from traditional "Ironman" events. The traditional Ironman is 140.6 miles: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run. Exactly twice the distance of each event I did on saturday, which was a true "Half-Ironman" distance. The Leadman is a 3.1 mile swim, 138 mile bike, and a 13.7 mile run. This appeals to me since it puts more importance on my 2 best disciplines: swim and bike. I can definitely get in the pool time, and open water swims again all through next summer. I also may have found a cycle training buddy that would very likely whip my ass into shape on the roads, as well as be able to give me excellent advice.
    The Epic 250 may be my grand finale, but I have other events I will want to add to the schedule. I will do another Half-Ironman, with the goal of a sub 7 hour finish. I think that is very doable. I would also like to get in a few longer trail runs. I did two trail half-marathons this year, and know I could do better. There is a 25K mud run at Hagg Lake in February that I wanted to hit this year, but was neck deep in firefighter academy at the time. I am really considering a 50K trail ultra-marathon, but know I would really need to get my base built up for that.
    I am already looking ahead and mentally reworking my training schedule to add more legwork, plyometrics, and CrossFit Endurance workouts. I know my knees would implode if I ran as much as I should to be putting myself through these events, so I have to find alternatives. It has been shown that the explosive, strength training workouts of CrossFit can build endurance as well as strength. And can take the place of some of the mileage needed to be a decent endurance athlete. The one negative aspect that the trainers came up with is that it does not train your mind for the long hours spent on your feet, and inside your head. Fortunately, I am very good at being inside my own head.
    Nothing is set in stone. But I am looking ahead, planning, scheming, plotting, all in an effort to make sure I can stay on an even keel through the winter. I want a challenge on the books for next year. A lofty goal to make me push myself, reach for the gold ring. The Epic 250K is right up my alley.

The Aftermath

    The physical aftermath of The Big One has been interesting, and somewhat unexpected. Of course I was hungry immediately after the race. Hell, I had been eating nothing but electrolyte laden sugar bombs for 7 hours, my body is not used to that kind of abuse. We hit a local diner for some quite excellent chicken fajita pizza. Yes, wheat and meat, neither of which have touched my lips very often these last few months, but I knew I needed protein and carbs. And it was delicious. I drank about a quart of water and ate a Clif bar on the 2 hour ride home, while talking incessantly, and excitedly about damn near everything. Once home, I made one of my green protein smoothies to blast some good stuff into my nutrient depleted body. Before bed I ate a bowl of granola. Yeah, I was hungry. I woke in the middle of the night, wired, and hungry. So I got up, ate another bowl of granola, blogged for a bit, downed some Muscle Milk that has been collecting dust in my fridge for a while (yes, I checked the expiration date). Not my first choice, but I knew I needed protein. I didn't sleep well. I was beginning to feel nauseated. I thought it was the Muscle Milk, since my meals had all been small, just frequent. Sunday morning I woke up ravenous, and since I didn't have eggs to make pancakes with peanut butter and banana, which was what I was craving, I had another bowl of granola. Now, let me tell you, this is really good, organic, gluten free, all natural, seriously good shit granola, and I top it with unsweetened almond milk. But almost as soon as I had eaten it I though I was going to vomit. Seriously. I spent most of sunday morning feeling like I was going to puke if I moved to fast. Finally I sacked up and headed to the grocery store for unflavored Pedialyte (basically all the good stuff in gatorade, without all the nasty shit), and organic chicken broth. I spent the next few hours drinking Pedialyte cocktails: splash of black cherry juice, Pedialyte, and ice. By the way, unflavored Pedialyte tastes like ass. It kind of reminded me of the Salt Stick I had dumped under my tongue during the race. Nasty. Hence, adding the splash of black cherry. Finally I felt settled enough to try white rice with chicken broth. That did okay. I was getting seriously hungry. My friend came by and took me out for a late lunch, I opted for hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes. It did me right. Later, hungry again, or still, I did white rice with chicken. But even today, my stomach is being a bit rebellious. I am thinking it all had to do with the way the various sport beans, gels, and chews jacked my blood sugar around so much. I will have study nutrition more. I will say though, I had good energy throughout and after my race, so I know I did okay in the fueling department, but there has to be another, less obnoxious way to fuel. And in case you were wondering, I think if I have to eat another Sport Bean (basically jelly beans with electrolytes), or Clif chew it really might make me vomit.
    I will barely mention sore muscles, because I fully expected my body to hurt. My quads are the worst, it was the brutal hills in the run, but I was expecting that. Granted, walking down the stairs at work today almost made me cry, and lose my lunch. Tomorrow will be better. I am pleased to say that from the hips up, I feel great. I am not sore, or particularly tired feeling. I plan on swimming The Cove tomorrow, since it is likely going to be one of the last hot days this year. Another pleasant surprise, my joints don't hurt. I fully expected to have some loud protesting from my knees, but they have been contentedly quiet. Although maybe the intense soreness of my quads is over-riding any other, lesser pain.
    I am still tired, and would have loved another day of napping and eating, but overall I feel great. I know that it will take my body several weeks to fully recover from the arduous task I just demanded of it. I should be just about recovered in time for the Firefighter Stairclimb in 3 weeks, and the Portland Marathon in 4 weeks. My poor body.

Zero To Seventy (Point Three)

    Saturday, was The Day. The Big One. The event that has been the focus of my training for a full year. Less than a year ago I did my third sprint triathlon, The Portland Tri, and had a miserable time. Honestly. The swim took every bit of energy I had just to finish and not drown, and that left me with nothing for the bike, and even less than nothing for the run. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I came within a hair's breadth of quitting, getting a DNF, "Did Not Finish." But I did finish, and crossing that line gave me a perverse sense of accomplishment. Why? Because, despite how miserable, exhausted, trembling, and nauseated I was, and how I was sucking on my emergency inhaler in a vain attempt to be able to breathe, I did cross the finish line. It made me hungry for more. It fired up the fierce competitor inside of me, the Me that has a constant desire for self improvement, the need to always best myself.
    That brings me to The Big One. My first Long Course Triathlon, a half-Ironman distance, 70.3 miles. Oddly, I was not nearly as nervous as I had expected. Excited, yes. Nervous, not so very much. There was no negative self-talk. No doubts that I would finish, and do it decently well. After all, I had completed each of the distance in the three disciplines several times, at least. Hell, I have been swimming 1.5 miles twice a week for months. I conquered my open water phobia to the point that now swimming in the deep, green, open water is a sanctuary for me, and I am almost dreading having to return to lap swimming this winter. The bike? There again, I have been logging long hours on the bike. True, many of those hours were indoors, up on my trainer, but it trained my legs to pedal continuously, at high cadence, tirelessly, and for as long as I need to. The run, yes, it is and was my Achilles' Heel. I just can't manage the high miles I need to in order to be an insane distance runner. The cross I bear.
    Anyway, I digress. Back to Race Day. I was a little stressed because the drive was longer than I was thinking, so I got on site with less than an hour before the starting gun. But there were plenty of others still rolling in when I got there. I found a good spot for Joshua in T2, got my gear laid out in perfect order, and slid into my Selkie Suit. A friendly fellow half virgin helped zip me in, and we all wandered down to the shore. I slid into the cool, lovely lake, delighting in the clarity of the teal water. I got in a good warm up, my arms and shoulders were loose and strong. It was an open water start, so we all filed in, and swam out to the starting area, treading water, talking, joking, an undercurrent of excitement. Three, two, one, Pop! The starting gun went off and we swam. From the very first stroke I was relaxed, breathing easy, feeling great. I got passed by another swimmer and sucked in behind her to draft. I have never had a chance to draft behind a faster swimmer, and let me tell you, it fucking rocks. With another body breaking the water, I was slicing through with ease. I let her waste energy popping her head up to sight on the buoys, I just flowed behind, almost, but not quite touching her feet with my long, easy strokes. As I swam, I noticed some fine particles in the water that were glinting in the morning sun, as I swam through them I felt like I was flowing through space, through a million stars, as if I were in hyperdrive blasting through the galaxy. It was amazing. I can honestly say, this was my best swim ever. Ever. The mile plus went by so easy, so smooth, so rapturous. It seemed no time at all until my hands brushed the lake bed near the swim finish and I was on my feet, running for T2, shedding Selkie Suit and goggles as I ran.
    T2, my trusty Joshua was patiently waiting. I took a few extra moments in transition to make sure I was comfortably geared up. I do not wear a Tri-suit like most competitors, they expose too much skin to the burning sun. Instead I was in UA compression tights under my wetsuit, and pulled on a white, long sleeved compression top before slipping into bike shorts, shoes, helmet, and gloves, and running for the Bike Out. On the road, I was cognizant of my training, the importance of JRA (just ride along) for the first 10 miles or so, getting warm, relaxing, slowly picking up speed, but keeping it mellow. That is key to long course triathlons, do not burn too much in the swim and bike so that you have nothing left for the run. I stuck to The Plan. I found my "I can do this all day" pace, and rode. It was a fabulous ride. 56 miles of rolling roads through the foothills of the Cascades. Yeah, there were a number of low gear, up in the stirrups, hands in the drops, head down, and grind your way to the top hills, but they were glorious. I made sure to eat and drink continuously while riding, to avoid feeling depleted later on. I was not going to bonk the run. Before I knew it, I was rolling back into the park, feeling great.
     T3, I got a little confused and couldn't find my transition area. My fault, I brought a burgundy towel, along with half a dozen other racers. It seemed like an eternity, but I found my gear. Later I found out I only spent 3 minutes in T3, so it was still a decent transition time. Into running shoes, dorky hat, and fuel belt, and off I was on the run. I was surprised at how decent my legs felt off the bike. I had learned a few tricks to get my legs ready to switch from the monotonous, circular cadence of the bike, to the forward propulsion of the run. It worked. I followed The Plan, to jog easy the first few miles to let my body readjust. Things were going splendidly, despite the fact that the course seemed like one, long uphill. It really was a brutally, hilly run. Until Mile 4. That is when the leg cramps started. I was fucking pissed. I had been so diligent about trying to keep fueled, hydrated, and my electrolytes balanced, especially after the leg cramps of the Hagg Lake Half. The 13.1 miles became an odd torture, I had ample energy for the run, but my body was exacting some perverse revenge on me. I made it into a game: see how many stride I could run before the next leg cramp, then see how few strides it would take for me to walk it off. I was managing 70 to 100 running strides before a cramp would hit, then 20 to 50 walking strides to walk it out. Yes, nine miles of this game. It was not a very fun game. I was slamming electrolytes, water, Salt Sticks, Sport Beans, Clif Chews, Heet sport drink at the aid stations. Nothing was going to give me relief from these cramps, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. At mile twelve, feeling a bit desperate, and devil-may-care, I busted out my last electrolyte filled Salt Stick capsule, broke it open and put some under my tongue for faster absorption into my system. The stuff tastes like ass, I would not recommend this. I kept sprinkling the stuff under my tongue, swirling it about in my mouth, praying for it to do some good. Trotting along with this white powder filled capsule clutched in my hand, I got a seriously deranged idea. Yes, I snorted a bit. Hey, it is one sure way to jack something straight into your system. Again, I would not recommend this. At all. But as I was grinding up the final hill, nearing the park, it seemed the cramps lessened just a bit. It was enough that I ran the last 1/10th of a mile to the finish, strong, head up, eyes forward, no cramps. I crossed the line feeling on top of the world. Then I walked off cramps for about 10 minutes while swilling Heet and water.
    I had fully expected to be totally exhausted crossing the finish. Weirdly, I felt like dancing. Actually, I wandered back to transition to shed my fuel belt and drink some Naked juice, and I did dance. Looking at Joshua, my discarded gear, my still wet Selkie Suit, I danced. It was magnificent, glorious, awesome, marvelous. It was a dance of sheer triumph. I was overloaded with the joy of victory, endorphins pushing me higher than any drug one could consume. It really was one of the greatest days of my life. Overcoming adversity during the run made the victory all the sweeter. I was faced with pain and suffering, and made it my bitch. It was fantastic. There really are no words to describe the elation of this accomplishment.
    To sweeten the already deliriously heady experience was my final time. No, not fast, but I had set my sights on 8 hours, with 7h30m as "My Dream Time." My final time? 7 hours 30 minutes 31 seconds. I almost cried with joy. Another interesting point, 89 competitors started the race, 67 finished. That is about a 25% DNF rate. I was surprised. Another interesting little tidbit, during the entire event, even the run, I was thinking how much easier, and more enjoyable time I was having than when I did the Portland Tri, which was only about 18 miles total distance. So I really feel like I went from Zero to Seventy in less than a year. And oh my gods, what an amazing finale to that year. Next year? 70.3 in under 7 hours, a 50K ultra marathon trail run, and maybe, just maybe 140.6 mile Ironman. Time to start training.

What A Rush

    I underestimated the intensity of the high and afterglow that I would experience after completing The Big One. Here it is, 3:30am, and I sit at my keyboard wishing I could somehow manage to put into words the thoughts ricocheting around inside my skull, the feelings coursing through every fiber of my body. That I could somehow express, in black and white, just a glimpse of the ecstasy, exaltation, intoxication, jubilance, and sheer triumph that fills my soul at this moment. Part of me, that logical snippet of Brain that is always attempting, often in vain, to rein in my manic, exuberant, untamed whirlwind, is trying to convince me that I am merely delirious from from my exertions, lack of sleep, and continuous hunger. Maybe so. But really, I don't believe a word he is saying. I am riding the crest of the wave of victory. A victory of mind, body, and spirit. I honestly feel as if this has changed me forever. I feel as if I should be able to look in a mirror and see some mark, some alteration of my physical being, an aura.
    I was sure that after the event I would be absolutely exhausted, brain dead, completely wiped out. Instead I was brimming with energy. I felt as if it were spilling over and leaking out of every pore. Yes, my muscles were stiffening up, and I sure as hell didn't feel up to running another mile, but I think I could have gone out dancing. Instead I chattered, bubbled, and had brief eruptions of spastic glee. I talked, nearly nonstop for the two hour drive home (fortunately my son was driving me home, so I didn't have to talk to myself). Once home I wandered about the house, ate again, and then again, tried to shut my brain down by browsing the internet, and finally made myself go to bed. I did manage to sleep for two hours before coming wide awake with the thought, "70.3 miles, fuck yeah!" I managed to drift in and out a bit, telling myself that if I didn't sleep I would be an absolute basket case come sunrise, but apparently I was not very convincing. Instead I lay in bed, euphoric, awash in the afterglow, high on endorphins. So, here I sit, fumbling about in an ineffectual attempt to capture this gamut of emotion, this physical manifestation of achievement, this epic sense of accomplishment, while apparently stoned out of my gourd. And it would seem that not only do endorphins make me high as a kite, they give me serious munchies. So, I think I will go eat, again. Later in the day, when I am possibly a bit more grounded, I will endeavor to write a more comprehensive accounting of what has been one of the greatest days of my life. I think I will be hungry for days.
   

Down To The Wire

    It is truly down to the wire. Tomorrow is The Big One. Tomorrow. Less than 24 hours. In between random attacks of spastic excitement, I have remained remarkably calm and focused. I have not had the negative self-talk that I thought was inevitable, and I am a bit surprised by this. Maybe I shouldn't be. I have trained to the best of my ability, given my ridiculously full schedule. I have honed my nutrition to a science. I have worked diligently on my mental game and mindset. I am mindful of my body in ways I could never have imagined. I have become a true student of my passion. Yes, I am excited for tomorrow, and wake each morning with the thrilling realization that I am one day closer to my self imposed challenge. I am not deluding myself that tomorrow will be easy, I know it will be exhausting and painful. But I also know that I can do it. I look at each leg of the race as an individual event, in and of itself. I am excited for the swim, knowing how I feel in the water, the freedom and relaxation of being surrounded by the calming waters. Rising, dripping, from the lake I will head to T2, where Joshua waits patiently. I have ridden the 58 mile course, and know it is a beautiful ride that I can do well. The cycling leg behind me, I can reset to the last event, a half-marathon. I can run this, slow and steady, at my penguin pace, I know I can run this. So each leg I am viewing as a separate entity. Breaking down a brutally long event into three manageable bites, resetting my mind and body at the end of each leg. Yes, it will be tough. Yes, it will be painful. Yes, I am so freaking excited to be so close to what I have trained so hard for. A year of planning and training, coming to fruition tomorrow.

Forty Eight Hours

    48 Hours. Two short days. 48 Hours and I will be in the cool, emerald waters of Lake Foster, in the "washing machine" effect of the swim start. There is nothing quite like the first few minutes of chaos in the water as bodies collide, people swim right over top of you, limbs flail, you get kicked and punched (accidentally, of course). It is the weirdest start to an otherwise civil, and rather solitary sport. 

    48 Hours. I feel like a kettle simmering on the stove. Just a low simmer, but enough that the pot trembles, and steam builds up to erupt from the corner of the lid every few minutes. That is me; trembling ever so slightly, with occasional bursts of energy to release pent up pressure. I am proud of myself that I am not having negative, demon-whispered, panic inducing, self doubts. I know I can do this. Yes, it will very likely hurt. A lot. But I know I can do this. 48 Hours. 48 HOURS! 

The Homestretch

    This week, with just a few remaining days until The Big One, my mantra has been more like, "Just stay healthy and whole, don't fuck this up now." Seriously. I feel like I am weighing the risks of everything I do, and everything I eat. If I were just a touch more neurotic I might sequester myself away, bar the doors, turn off the phone, and spend the remaining days in meditation and very careful Yoga. Okay, not really, but that is the plan for Friday.
    Last night was my final open water swim. The water was glorious, if a bit murky, and my body felt great. I did not want to get out of the water, but had promised myself that I would only swim 30 minutes. Yes, I pouted. To add insult to injury, the other, lone swimmer at The Cove swam my normal circuit, two wide, full laps. I was so jealous I could barely watch. I had to keep reminding myself that in just a few days I will get to swim just about as far as I want to, in a beautiful, hill country lake. But for now, the Selkie suit has to lie dormant for a few days.
    I have done abbreviated workouts every day, aiming at about 20-30% of normal. I have added more Yoga and relaxation, wanting to keep everything as limber as possible. I have to say, every little tweak or stiff muscle has me feeling paranoid though. Yesterday my back was a little tight, likely from weekend antics, so all day I was carefully stretching and sweet talking my dorsi muscles, and a little extra gentle Yoga last night.
    I have been drinking a vegan, protein smoothie every night just before bed. Spinach, banana, pomegranate and black cherry juice, brown rice and hemp protein. I'm staying consistent with my supplements and asthma meds. As much as I keep wanting to try new things, I am not allowing it. Not this week. I am staying the course. Funny thing, my weight is staying at 155, and I realized that it puts me at nearly a 90 pound weight loss. 90 pounds, it boggles the mind. I'm sure I will put a few pounds back on after this is all over, but then again, I may be training for a full Ironman soon. Life is funny that way.
    I did break down and fork out the dough for new Smartwool socks, and Under Armor compression tights. I had planned on these purchases long ago, but just never made the shopping trip. Now, gear is lined up and ready. I also picked up most of the various fuel sources Clif gels and chews, electrolyte water, salt sticks, just gotta get my Sport Beans and I am all set. Tomorrow Joshua gets a bath, wax, and tire pressure check, before one, final, quick road ride to let his newly adjusted wheels relax into shape.
    So, gear is ready, fuel is in the cupboard, my truck Wallace is gassed up and ready, my body is as ready as it will be. It is almost time. The countdown is on. I am heading down the Homestretch. Damn, I'm excited!

Six Days

    Less than six days. It felt as if I would never really get to this point. Training day after day, week after week, month after, well, you get the idea. I have been training for this specific event for nearly a year. Building a solid base from the ground up, quite literally. Now, the countdown is really on. I am trying to remain focused and not let Brain go scampering all over the countryside in an over-exuberant spaz attack, but it is a monumental task. I don't get to workout to exhaustion, which would help calm Brain and Body. With the race just days away I am in full blown taper mode, winding down my training to a mere 20% of what Body is used to. This leaves far too much excess energy, it feels as if it is oozing out of every pore and orifice, like honey from a broken pot. My saving grace is that currently my life is so busy, exciting, and distracting that it leaves very few hours to sit and wallow in an attack of nerves and anxiety. Just a few more days to stay healthy, just a few more days to be neurotically diligent with what goes into my maw, and what I do with Body. Just a few more days.
    Of course I have altered my workouts. Short but intense workouts, instead of long and intense. I am spending less time in the water and in the saddle, but staying dedicated to strength training, core workouts, and stretching. I am cutting back on carbs, since I am not needing as much fuel, but revving up my protein intake to make sure Body is as rested and healed as is humanly possible. Oddly, I have dropped almost 5 pounds in the last few weeks, so I will be racing at almost 20 pounds lighter than I was last summer. This week though, this week, Tuesday will likely be my last workout, one last swim in The Cove, then it is rest Body, but keep training Brain. I know that finishing in good condition requires every bit as much Brain strength and endurance as it does having Body prepped and ready. Endurance events often come down to mind over matter. I know this, and have been training for this inevitability every bit as hard as I have been training muscles, lungs, and heart. Six days. I am doing everything I possibly can to ensure a good outcome this coming Saturday. Eat, train, sleep, meditate, pretend to relax. Six days. Holyfuck. Six days. But I am ready.