Swimming

    I am trying to up the ante with my swimming. In the past I have not been comfortable with swimming so hard that I am pushing my asthma threshold. It is a bit panic inducing to have breathing difficulty when you are in the water, it is too reminiscent of drowning I think. But now, as I become more and more comfortable with my swimming, I am also finding it easier to push myself harder. The last few swims I have really pushed myself. I have been swimming laps with hand paddles and my shorty fins which elevates my heart rate and breathing far beyond my race pace, and the level I have been training at.  Friday I was 22 laps into what would have been my fastest mile ever when I was informed that the gym closed at 8:00 on Fridays (it was 7:55), so I had to stop before I felt finished. I felt robbed. Tonight I headed in for a swim, but didn't feel quite as speedy as I did on Friday. I did push myself hard for the first 30 laps though, until I was having to breath on every stroke instead of every other stroke as I usually do. Then I switched back to strength drills for the remaining 30 laps. My challenge to myself: 10 swims in 14 days, while maintaining my regular workout schedule. With work ramping up for the holidays it is going to be a tiring few weeks. But I do love rising to a challenge.

First Brick in Two Months

    Today was my first brick workout since mid-September. I didn't really plan for it, but hell, strike while the iron is hot. It was a beautifully sunny day, with temps in the mid 40's so a bit on the chilly side. Yesterday I had vowed to myself that I would head out to Wildcat Road (aka "Kick-my-ass-and-leave-me-in-the-ditch-to-die Road") and run hill repeats on the first steep hill. Okay, all the hills on this road are steep, hence the nickname from my cycling outings on it. It is less than a mile from my front door to the foot of the first hill, a perfect warm-up distance. I decided to run to the top in sprint sets, with each set consisting of sprint 30 paces, walk 30 paces. It took me seven sets to reach the top. I considered running further, but since this is my first real hill repeat session I didn't want to over extend myself, so I turned around and ran for home. I was careful running the steep downhill, knowing just how hard downhills can be on my knees and quads. It gave me a chance to focus intently on technique, footstrike and stride rate. I admit, I really had a tough time motivating myself out of the door, and procrastinated until the sun was getting a bit low on the horizon and I knew if I didn't get going the light would fade and the temps would really drop. Of course by the time I was warmed up, and before I even started the hill repeats, I was feeling great, and glad to be out in the fresh, brisk autumn air. It was a good run, short but effective.
    When I returned home I decided to get in a 60 minute spin session. I haven't been keeping up with my cycling quite as much as I would like. As with my swimming, it is so hard to return to indoor workouts after a glorious summer of outdoor training sessions. My route to work is the same road I spent so many hours cycling over this last summer, and as I drive my eyes wander the bike path on the shoulder of the road, wishing it was August and I was sweating my way up and down the hills. I know I can cycle outdoors even during the winter, but I don't have all the gear I need, and the wind chill can be brutal on a bike. I did pick up some basic gear before my event in September, just in case of inclement weather, but I didn't need it. I need to dig it all out and have it ready for the next dry weekend (granted, that might be in June).
    I still haven't really filled out my training schedule as much as I would like. I have a few training days that are very specific: Monday and Friday are Strength Training with a focus on legs and core, Wednesday is Running Drills at the college track. The rest of the week is a little less focused: Tuesday and Thursday are dedicated Swim days, Saturday and Sunday are for Cycling and a Run workout. I am doing the Elliptical machine to warm up on Leg Day, and trying to fit in an extra run where I can. I'd also like to get in a third swim somehow. Yeah, yeah, it sounds pretty specific, but my cycling workouts are very generic, and not frequent enough, and I could say the same about my swimming. There really are not enough days in the week to fit in all the training sessions I would like. This is where I guiltily confess that I am looking forward to getting laid off from work so I can train more (terrible, I know).
    I do have to keep reminding myself that this really should be my Off-Season, and I shouldn't have to be quite so obsessively focused. But my nature is to be obsessively focused, it is how I am, I seem to be hardwired for it. Maybe this year I will actually get a training calender, and keep a journal, or just do as I always do and keep it all up inside my noggin.

Must Get Faster

    I am at the computer searching for articles on ways to improve my performance next season. I must get faster. Absolutely must. In the swim, the bike, and the run. But especially on the bike. I have heard all too often, "It is not the bike, it is the rider." Well, g'damn it I wish I could blame it on the bike, but I know it is me. Oh I am sure there are things I could do to Joshua that might let me shave a few seconds here and there, but the reality is that I need to be faster. I knew going into my big event that I had the endurance, just not the speed. For so long I have said that speed is not my strength, my strength is my strength. I am a strong swimmer and cyclist. I do have excellent endurance and can find that "I can do this all day" pace. But that is not good enough. I got a DNF because I could not finish the bike leg in the time allowed. I knew going into the event that it would be a miracle for me to manage the 138 miles in less than 9-1/2 hours. I do wish I had found out what the time limit was a lot earlier in my training, it might have made me add more speed work to my training. Or not. I had to focus on base building. I followed my training plan religiously, taking the advice to go easy on the bike to save energy for the run. That is advice that crops up again and again in Ironman training, you have to go easier on the bike than you think you should because you have to get off the bike and run. But now I know, I still need to be faster. I don't know if I need another bike, not that I can afford one anyway (but a girl can dream), or if there are things I can do to Joshua to help improve our performance. He is a good, basic road bike. I just need to be faster all around.
    I am working diligently on my strength training, since it is technically my off-season. I know that strength and power are key in both speed and endurance. I have always kept up a decent level of strength training, but in the past I have focused more on core and upper body strength which is vital to all three disciplines. Now I haev added a considerable amount of leg work. I make sure to have two days at the gym that are dedicated leg days with squat, lunge, deadlift, leg press, leg curl, leg extension, jump squat, wide squat, split squat, and a plethora of other leg exercises and stretches. I am also doing one day on the track with running drills aimed at strength and speed work. I do love the running drills; sprint, skip, high knee, butt kick, leap, crossover stride, and square hop. I am adding hill repeats to the mix starting tomorrow. I haven't been cycling as much lately, letting myself have a bit of a break, but I will be adding tabata drills, and threshold speedwork to try and make my legs get faster. I have to be faster. It is not an option, it is a requirement.
    Off-season is not easy for me, but it is the time to research and study, seek new ways to train. I know I can improve my times,

Good News, Bad News

    The bad news: I will be unemployed come January first. The good news: OMG just think how often I will be able to workout! No, seriously, this really was one of my first thoughts after hearing that they were closing my department by Christmas. I will be able to train like I have wished I could for a long time. Okay, hopefully I won't be unemployed very long, but I am going to try and make the best of it. Another great aspect of having a bit more free time is the ability to get caught up on my writing, finish a few of the works I have in progress and haven't been able to quite finish off, as well as start a new writing project or two. One idea I have swirling around in my over-active brain is a book on triathlon on a budget. I won't be more specific than that right now (don't want one of my 12 readers to swipe my idea *ha ha*). I think if there is one area of triathlon that I have a bit better than average knowledge it is how to do it on the cheap. I admit, setting up T2 and seeing all the glorious tri-bikes next to my old school road bike, I am inclined to feel a bit like the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. But I don't participate in this sport for glory or recognition, or to have the spendiest bike on the rack, I do it because I enjoy it, and I feel that by pushing myself to reach for what may have seemed impossible not long ago that I am making myself a better person. Hell, I am definitely in the best shape of my life (well, at least I was on September 20th), and plan on being even more fit come September of 2015. I don't have the qualifications to be a trainer, but I definitely qualify to help people find a bargain.
    On that note, time to get my workout space organized so I can get in a bike and strength training workout a little later. Onward through the fog!

The Big Day (Part Two)

    It has been less than 2 months. 7 weeks. 49 days since my race, and I think about it every day. I wrote about the first part of the day, the glorious 3 mile swim in frigid 62 degree water that left me disoriented, slurring my speech, shivering harder than I ever have, and exulting in what a fabulous swim it had been. Onto the bike, shivering and hoping the lack of sensation in my hands and feet didn't make me crash before I got out onto the main road and into the sun.
    It was a glorious day. As perfect as anyone could have wished. The sky was the bright blue that is a signature of the high desert. Heading out into the 138 mile bike course my legs were feeling leaden from the cold, but warmed up quickly. I felt great. My energy after the swim was good. I stuck to the plan and only consumed water for the first 20 minutes or so of the ride, then took a shot of honey. My game plan for energy on the bike was simple: Water, honey, and electrolyte capsules. I had experimented with different gels, chews, drinks, bars, and dried fruit through my training season and kept coming back to cold water, honey, and Salt Sticks. Simple. I had a few mocha Clif Shots and Blocks to break the monotony, knowing that after 9 plus hours on the bike I might get a little tired of honey and water. Anyhoo, on with the ride.
    I had visited this route several times, the Cascade Lakes Highway where it rambled between Wickiup Reservoir and up the backside of Mount Bachelor. It is a road with no flats. There is a 2000' elevation gain in one 20 mile section, with one 5 mile section that is a solid climb. I felt fantastic. My energy was good, my legs felt strong, my lungs were happy. I couldn't have asked for better health and conditioning (given the time I have been training for ultra-endurance... next season I will be stronger and faster). There were a few points in the ride where I hit a bit of a wall, but I didn't let myself slack and pushed through. There were aid stations about every 20 miles with gloriously cold water, I fell in love with every one of the volunteers handing out this delectable ambrosia. At the first aid station I found out they were handing out bananas. BANANAS!! My favorite energy bar. My battle cry for the day became, "Woo hoo! Bananas!! Fuck yeah!!" The volunteers thought I was hilarious (so did I).
    The glory of the the country I was cycling through was undeniable. Again and again I thought to myself, "I am exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do."
    About 80 miles into the ride I finally looked at my watch (purchased just for this day). Doing a little quick calculation I realized that my concerns over being able to finish in 9-1/2 were coming to become fact. I was pushing myself to the point of leg cramps, and flirted with asthma a few times, and knew in my heart that at any given point I riding to the best of my capabilities, and I was still about 30 minutes behind where I needed to be. So I pushed harder, even though I knew it would not be enough, but I was not going to give up. I cycled on, though the gorgeous high desert day.
     Halfway up my second trip up the backside of Mount Bachelor (the course was 1-1/2 times around the mountain, then down into Bend) I saw the medic van, and a scruffily handsome man stepping out to talk to me.
    "Is this where you tell me I won't make the bike cutoff?" I asked.
    "Yeah," he said apologetically, "I have a call in to the race director to see if you will be able to do the run course though."
    "Okay, I'm going to keep cycling until you pull me from the course," I grinned at him and pedaled on.
    "I will be leap-frogging you, if you don't mind," he said to my backside.
    I knew this likely meant I was the last cyclist. I didn't care, this competition was against no one but myself. I pedaled on, grinding my way up that 5 mile stretch of first gear, head down, constant incline. The medic leap-frogged me as promised. Finally, about 1 mile from the summit, with less than 30 minutes left to the cutoff time, and a solid 20 miles left of the course, he passed me, and got out of his van.
    "The race director said that if you ride in with me, and get to the run start by 7 you can still do the run course. Or, you can finish the bike and not do the run."
     I pondered for a brief moment. I had covered the hardest part of the bike course, I was one mile from hitting the long downhill into Bend, and I had really been looking forward to that particular stretch. I also knew there was no way I could cover that 20 miles in 30 minutes. Having covered 118 miles of a tough bike course, I really wanted my chance to run the 14 miles of the final leg.
    "Okay, I'll ride in with you."
    We put my bike in the van and took off. He told me there were several other cyclists on the road that weren't going to make the cutoff, but they were opting to finish the bike and skip the run. I was disappointed that I couldn't have eked out an extra mile per hour to cover the course in time, but I also knew I had cycled my best. I took a shot of honey, drank some water, and pushed aside any self-flagellation as I prepared my mind for the run.
   We passed a number of cyclists, and I really did wish I was riding with them, but I had made my choice.
    Once we got into the race venue I unloaded my bike and trotted to T3 to leave my bike gear and change to running gear. I had to relinquish my timing chip at this point, and accept the fact that I would get a DNF (did not finish). Okay, no time to dwell on that, I parked the bike and slipped into running shoes.
    The run course was unexpected. It started out normal enough; sidewalks through a residential area, with aid stations every mile. The first surprise was that the flaggers and guides at intersections and course changes had packed up and left at sundown, so it felt like a bit of a crapshoot to stay on course. The second surprise was when the course turned onto a black asphalt path that led off through undeveloped land, with no street lights. That's right. No lights. None. At first, running through the gloaming, there was plenty of light to see. And by plenty I mean it wasn't pitch dark, yet. I came to an aid station, manned by teenagers who said, "The next aid station has head lamps." So I drank some water and ran on. I have good night vision, so was able to differentiate the path from the surrounding ground because it was a darker shade of black. At one point I saw the shapes of a doe and fawn wander across in front of me, since I was dressed all in black, they didn't see me until I was about 6 feet from them, and then they bounded off into the dark. I got to the next aid station and inquired about a head lamp. "We don't have any, but we heard the next station does." This was the story of the night. The lure of the elusive head lamp spurring me on from one aid station to the next.
    Running by starlight I again had the thought, "I am exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing." It was a glorious night, moonless, but with the Milky Way spread out above me. The air was mild, but cooling rapidly, as it does in the High Desert. I ran on. My legs felt strong, my energy was great, my breathing was good. After about 4 miles I did have that realization that I was running through unknown land, with no lights, and no one around me. I was alone in the night. And the thought niggled its way into my brain and I started to get just a little spooked. I didn't have my cell phone, and didn't know where I was. If I ran off course, I could wander all night, as temperatures dipped to the 40's or lower. And then there was the paranoia that I had no idea what or who might be lurking behind every bush and rock. I ran as quietly as I could. My reassuring though on this point is that I am tall, broad shouldered, and relatively flat-chested when squashed into a sport bra. Maybe any would-be assailant would think I was a dude and let me run on past.
    Then the asphalt disappeared, turning into an 18 inch wide gravel path. I ran on for a bit until I realized I was having such a hard time seeing the path I was likely to stray and roll an ankle. I slowed to a fast walk. The crunching of gravel underfoot made it sound like there was another set of footsteps behind me. I would stop, listening for my would be stalker. Nothing. Of course. At this point I had been laboring for more than 12 hours, and I think my brain was getting a little tired from the constant need to stay focused on the task at hand. Brain was wandering down loopy paths, populating them with the boogeyman.
    Okay, this had to stop. I decided I would risk getting hit by a car, since there was no traffic anyway (I really did feel alone), and run on the road. I needed the security of smooth asphalt beneath my feet. On the road I realized I could make out the 6 inch wide, white fog line painted on the shoulder of the road, I kept my feet on the white line.
    Now is when the run became even more surreal. It was so dark around me that the white line really was all I could see. Even my body, clad in black, was invisible. I felt like a Ninja, and focused on silent footfalls. The only sound I could hear was my own breathing. In the distance I could see the lights of the high school where the halfway point and finish line were for the run, but they were more of a hindrance to my night vision than a help. It did give me the comfort of knowing now that I wouldn't get lost and wander through the sage brush all night. But at this point I was feeling like the run was actually riskier than it should be. About a mile from the halfway point another runner caught up with me. She was even more dismayed at the lack of lighting and the disappearance of any on course guidance besides the aid stations manned by 15 year olds. We both knew that what little help there was now would likely be gone all together on the second lap.
    I decided that I would only run one circuit. I was disappointed, with myself and with the race designers. I knew I had the physical energy to finish the race. I had the mental strength to finish the race. But I could not squelch the nervousness of the possibility of going off course and getting lost in the dark. And honestly, I think it was a justifiable fear.
    As I ran the last bit towards the finish line I rounded a corner and heard my Mom call out my name, cheering me on. It brought tears to my eyes. As I ran towards her I told her I wasn't going to run the second lap. Even as I spoke the words they tasted bitter, I wanted to finish, but had to give myself permission to put my safety first.
    At the very end I took an early turn and skulked down a side street to the area where my dry, clean clothes were waiting. It was not the glorious finish I had imagined, but I was proud of how far I had traveled that day: 3 mile swim, 118 mile bike ride over mountain roads, and a 7 mile run. 128 miles. Shy of my dream, but pretty damned good anyway.
    Even while I was racing I was thinking ahead to next year, and what I need to do to improve my performance. My endurance and power were good all day long. I had the endurance to do the course, I just didn't have the speed. Next year I will have the speed. And a head lamp. I am definitely taking a head lamp.