RunnerChick

My middle name is not Grace.

2012-02-05T08:07:00.000-08:00

I love to share stories of my trials and tribulations because, well, sometimes they make me laugh. And it's good to be able to laugh at yourself. It's even better to be able to make someone else laugh.

So, if you've followed this blog for a while, you've probably realized that I'm not the most graceful of people. I fall. Usually on flat ground. I get road rash (or trail rash) in places that shouldn't come in contact with the dirt. Like the front of my shoulder the last time I fell. I trip over my own feet. I'm a klutz. What can I say?

As you've probably figured out, this story will involve my lack of coordination and latest insult to my no-longer-perfect skin. So here's how it all went down...

It was a beautiful Thursday morning. The only thing ugly about the day was my mood. Having worked the overnight shift, I was going on about 5 hours of sleep (4 less than my minimum requirement) and I was not happy. I had just finished a 3700 meter swim in which I was supposed to execute anaerobic threshold intervals. Didn't happen. I struggled to keep up with my husband as he cruised through the water like a fish. I wanted to get out of the pool at 3500 to allow me time to suit up for my run. He made me finish the workout.

I get grouchy when I don't get my way and have not had any sleep or caffeine. I wriggle into my running gear, pulling my clothes and shoes on over wet skin. My mood was foul. I head out front to meet up with my friend and running partner for the day, the MPS. He asked me how I was doing. Grouchy, I growled.

We started our watches and headed out of the parking lot. Not even 30 seconds later, as we are crossing the street, he gets stung by a bee. He starts yelling. The bee comes back for more. I observe the bee swarming around his head and I freak out. I'm shrieking, and in an effort to escape I am backing away sort of running, I half turn and immediately trip over the curb. I hit the dirt with my left hand, left thigh, and then proceed to skid about 3 feet on my back. All while MPS is flailing in the middle of the road. I sit up and there's nothing I can do but laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

He accuses me of fleeing rather than trying to save him from the bee. I rinse off my scrapes and bruises. I landed just right on my back and practically tore a mole off my skin so I now have blood running down my back. I have about 6-8 inches of road rash. And I can't stop laughing. I pull the stinger from the back of his head. And we run.

Generally injury is not a laughing matter, but this scenario was too comical and it immediately pulled me out of my funk. I would have loved to see the faces of anyone who drove by when this happened. MPS dancing around in the middle of the street while I'm tripping over my own feet and the curb to land in a heap. Grace. Definitely not my middle name.

Some people pay lots of money to have beautiful skin. My skin is a reminder of my adventures. Little scars and bruises and scrapes to remind me that I'm alive and well. It's not perfect, but it's still a beautiful thing.

The Wake-Up Call: 14 weeks to St. George

2012-01-30T11:53:00.000-08:00

This weekend I travelled to St. George, Utah to check out the Ironman St. George course. The trip was organized by Durapulse and they graciously allowed us to join in their weekend training camp. It was a slow start with a very long drive up to Utah, via Flagstaff and the very desolate roads skirting the Grand Canyon. We arrived late afternoon and after a quick stop to view the reservoir (should be a nice one loop swim, with the potential for strong current due to gusty winds) we drove the first 20 miles of the bike ride en route to our hotel.

I took copious notes as we drove so that I could formulate the best possible training for the remaining 14 weeks until race day. So the first 20 miles looks like this (which you will understand if you live in Arizona..) 2 mile climb, not as steep as Usery. Small Shea climb with a 6% Mt Lemmon decline. Palisades and Shea climbs. Flat. Quick short hill. Flat. About 1 1/2- 2 miles of Shea and Palisades climbing. Downhill. Flat. So in other words, rolling, punchy hills.

After checking into the hotel, we went for a run on the course. Like the bike course, there is really no flat ground to speak of. If you can imagine for a moment, the course is run in the shape of an 'M', with a little diagonal out-and-back at the end on a street (ironically) named Diagonal. The loop is run a total of 3 times during the marathon. For the recon on Friday, my cousin and I ran one loop. Each leg of the 'M' is downhill, turnaround and come back up hill, across the top of the M, and then down the next leg, turn around and come back up hill, across the top, then down the next leg. You get the idea. After the third leg of the M you continue the up hill to the top of Diagonal and then turn around and come back down.

I really, really like this run course. I am not much of a fan of flat ground when you have to cover 26 miles. My muscles tend to really fatigue with the repetitive motion. With the up and down hills, I am constantly changing which muscles I'm using, and thus allowing the opposite muscles to rest. Plus, given the shape of the course, spectators will be all over the place and the family we have in town will literally be able to see us every 2 miles. That's 12 times in one marathon, plus the finish line. Even IMAZ doesn't have it that good.

After our run, we changed into swim suits to hit a local pool. I think we knocked out a quick 1500 meters, did a couple of 100 meter relays and then hit the water slides before we called it a day. We ended Friday with some pizza and hit the racks by 9 pm.

On Saturday morning, the forecast showed temperatures in the low 30s. This really concerned us as we prepared for our biking tour of the course. However, within a couple of miles I realized I was really overdressed for the amount of effort I was putting out and tied my jacket around my waist. I handed over my gloves to the sag vehicle and rode the course in a base layer and my jersey.

The bike ride was nothing less than eye-opening. A wake up call. We started from our hotel and wove through town following the course through one loop. I got a total of 47 miles in, averaging... wait for it.... 14 miles per hour. Yes, you heard me correctly. 14 mph. 14. I know. Hard to believe that one can actually bike that slowly. But yes. 14 mph. (Can you tell I'm struggling with this reality?)

It went like this: we leave hotel. Durapulse group takes off. I, already dropped, follow. Once we get out of town, it is just a relentless, slow climb for about 30 miles. Mentally, it's very debilitating because it looks flat. You're not climbing mountains. There are no switchbacks. There are really no hills to speak of for most of it. You think you should be going faster, but you can't. And then there is the wind. Oh, blustery wind. Head wind. Cross winds. No, no tail winds. Just varying degrees of every other possible angle. Wind.

The countryside is quite interesting. And believe me, I had plenty of time to take it all in. The hills are stark, bare, rocky. It's desolate. And then you'll drop into a gorgeous little valley with acres of green grass, and a white picket fence. Or cross a little bridge over a small creek. Not breathtaking, but beautiful nonetheless. I believe we had about 4 actual hills which provided a much needed break from the relentless false flat. I'm not sure where this "wall" was that people speak of. Or the switchbacks. I guess when you are used to switchbacks related to climbing a mountain, it is easy to overlook a small hill climb. (I think it's maybe the U-turn that sparks the use of the term related to this course.) Either way, the course was much harder than I expected in the relentless, gradual uphill. And much easier than I expected in that there are really very few climbs to speak of.

And in the same way, the "fast downhill" to the finish has been overrated as well. When we reached the town of Veyo, I retrieved my gloves for the descent back to St. George. We were told, one more hill before the descent. So we cruised up the highway in a very similar ascent to the beeline, maybe a touch steeper, for about a mile and then.... it flattens out. There's no smokin' downhill. I keep waiting and waiting. And waiting. Don't get me wrong, my average pace went from 10 to 20 mph. But we were by no means going down a mountain.

Finally, we see a sign that indicates a 6% grade is coming. So I put my jacket back on and glove up in preparation. And really, it wasn't much. There were a couple of steep sections but it wasn't nearly the mountain that I had built up in my head. I was expecting Mt. Lemmon. I think I got Usery.

So the bottom line is this: I have a lot of work to do. But it's a different sort of work that I had expected. I am going to focus my training on becoming mentally prepared for the unending effort that will be required from mile 20 to 50 and from mile 70-100. I think Mt. Lemmon will be key, not for the sort of climbing that is required, but just in putting forth solid effort for 20 miles at a time. And I will spend plenty of time in Fountain Hills, on McDowell Mountain Road, and repeats up 9-mile.

After returning to the hotel, somewhat dejected, we changed into our running shoes for a quick transition run. I did 2 legs of the 'M' and figured out that it took about 1 1/2 miles for my legs not to feel like Jell-o. I figure I can at least double this for race day. However, it was nice to start on a downhill, and the changing up and down did again provide relief for my legs.

After stretching we said goodbye to the Durapulse group as they were heading back to the Valley. We showered and headed out for a much deserved lunch at Great Harvest Bread Company. They did not disappoint. We spent the afternoon lounging by the pool and soaking in the hot tub. We found a great little Mexican restaurant for dinner.

On Sunday morning, we got up early for our long run. I had planned to do 2 1/2 hours. So I ran one 'M', made a quick stop the hotel to pick up my cousin who ran the last 1 1/2 hours with me. We ran one full loop of the course and finished with a total of 15.5 miles. I ran much slower on Sunday, but a strong consistent pace throughout the 2 1/2 hours. And if I can match that pace on race day, I'll be a very happy girl.

After breakfast we hit the road for home, this time via Las Vegas which proved to be much faster. After soaking in everything from the weekend and realizing that I have a lot of work to do in a very short amount of time, I have decided to forgo attempting another marathon. At this point, it's more important for me to be as well prepared for IM St. George as I can possibly be. In order to do that, I need to focus on building my endurance, strength on the bike, and getting some good long bike rides in. If I am worried about training for a marathon, and being well rested and properly tapered, that goes against everything I need to be doing for IM.

Se la vie. Or if you prefer: I've made my bed, now I must lie in it. Trust me, no one is more disappointed than I am about not being able to run Boston in 2013, but the last thing I want to do is have another bad race (ie: St. George). So I will become one with my bicycle in the next 14 weeks. If I am not on my bicycle, I will be thinking about my bicycle. Dreaming about her. Visualizing the course. Preparing mentally, physically, emotionally for the beating I will give St. George in May.

I Knee-d to Run!

2012-01-22T16:37:00.000-08:00

I suck at being injured. I am cranky. I complain. I feel fat. It just plain sucks.

So here's the deal on the knee... and keep in mind that I'm not a doctor or a PT, so this is my interpretation of what was explained to me. I noticed that when I said "my knee gave out" last weekend, I got a lot of strange looks. No one seemed to understand what I meant. Or they thought I had some IT band pain or whatever. I knew that it was not my IT band... I've had issues with that before. My knee actually "gave out" and my leg collapsed out from underneath me while I was running. I physically could not bear weight on my leg while running. Obviously I could still walk, which is why it was probably so confusing to people.

Anyway, I saw my PT on Wednesday and explained what happened ("my leg collapsed! my knee gave out!). He poked and prodded and easily found the tender spot on my patellar tendon. He explained to me that the patellar tendon is the tendon that connects the quadriceps muscle to the tibia. (Tendons connect muscle to bone, ligaments connect bone to bone.) So basically, as I was running along, by some freak twist of fate, my tendon was pulled in just the right way between my patella and tibia that it inactivated my quadriceps muscle. Apparently, this is one of the body's many protective mechanisms and a tendon has the ability during acute injury to shut down the muscle to which it associates. In my case, the quadriceps. A muscle very necessary for running.

So I wasn't crazy. At least not about my leg collapsing. When my quadriceps was inactivated, the leg in running stance will collapse because it is the quad that holds the leg up. He reassured me that there was no long term problem and I was doing all the right things to strengthen the muscle, bone, and tendon. He told me I could continue running, but I would probably struggle with downhills. He didn't know how right he was. (Or maybe he did... that's why I'm paying him the big bucks.)

He did a little bit of my favorite torture (ASTYM) and taped up my knee with kinesio tape and sent me on my way. I ran comfortably on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. On Saturday I was supposed to run a 31k trail race. I told myself that I'd see how I felt and I could always bail on one of the shorter loops if needed.

So I started the Coldwater Rumble on Saturday with high hopes. I felt great until 2 miles in when we hit the first big downhill. Instantly, my knee rebelled. I was forced to walk the downhills, and many of the rocky not-so-down hills. It. Sucked. I am used to bombing the downhills. Hills are my strength. I eat hills for breakfast. Uphill. Downhill. I have worked really hard all year to make hills my strength when trail running.

To be reduced to a walk was demoralizing, and just no fun. The first aid station was about 6 miles in. At that point I knew that I was taking the easy way out... the 19k option. My girlfriends (who all ran the marathon last weekend) opted to shortcut with me sighting various reasons. But I knew without me, they would have hauled butt through the 31k. I was thankful to have them running stride for stride with me. And the 19k provided some amazing views and one HUGE climb- which I loved. But at the end of the day, I couldn't wait to get off the trail as 12 miles in 2 1/2 hours was just miserably slow.

I normally don't look forward to getting off the trail, but I just couldn't take a comfortable step with all the rocks and downhills on the trail. So, I'll be sticking to flat ground for a while until I am completely OK to run downhill. Hopefully within 2 weeks cause I've got another trail race planned...

Spades

2012-01-15T17:16:00.000-08:00

Let's be honest here and call it what it is.

D.N.F.

You might say, "did nothing fatal." But a spade is a spade. I "did not finish." Again. On the same course.

I have never quit a race, ever, except for the PF Chang's Rock and Roll Arizona Marathon. Twice.

Those of you who knew me 3 years ago probably remember how devastated I was after that DNF. (See: http://runnerchick-skirtgirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-life-gives-you-lemonsmake.html) I developed a hip flexor strain 2 weeks before the marathon and dealt with the pain for 19 miles. When the 3:40 group passed me (my goal had been to qualify for Boston for the first time) I elected to drop out and try again once I was healthy. I enrolled in physical therapy. 6 weeks later, I qualified for Boston at the Napa Valley Marathon. It was a smart decision but I cried for days. I was heart broken. I had worked so hard for so long with a singular focus. I can feel the pain (in my heart) today as sharply as I felt it 3 years ago.

This time around, it was almost comical. Almost. It became almost a joke that I've lived here for 7 years and never ran the marathon. (I actually did run with a friend one year... but I was running her pace, not mine. She's come a long way since then, but we were moving pretty slowly.)

I was doing great. I was trail running all year and became so strong. I ran PR's in all my tune up races and I knew I was on track to run a PR marathon. Until October when my world turned upside down. I no longer had the luxury of time. Valuable time needed for track workouts, long runs. My weeks were all over the board. If I was lucky I had a 50 mile week. But that would be followed by several weeks where I struggled to find time to hit 20 miles. The bottom line is, I wasn't prepared.

I didn't give up on my goal, however. I decided that I would go out at goal pace and see what happened. I told myself I'd be happy with my time no matter what it was. But secretly, I had a BIG goal in mind.

I went out strong and held a 7:45 pace. Consistent mile after mile after mile. I have never paced myself so well. It was beautiful. I passed the half way mark in 1:42, exactly on target. And then, out of nowhere, my left leg gave out from underneath me. Keep in mind that my feet are on the ground for a matter of seconds during each stride. One stride I am fine. The next stride, my left foot hits the ground and my knee gives out and my leg can't hold me up. I nearly fell but caught myself. I stood back up and tried to run, but couldn't. I physically could. not. run.

It wasn't a matter of 'being smart' and 'listening to my body'. I could not run. It wasn't like I was tired and fatigued and could push through the pain. I could not run. And there was no way in hell I was walking the last 13 miles. No offense is meant to anyone who walks during a marathon, or walks an entire marathon. However, I have finished enough marathons and today wasn't about just finishing.

After I dropped out I had to hang out at the medical tent on course for about an hour or so waiting for the shuttle to pick me up. I got to cheer on all my friends out on the course. I loved seeing their smiling faces and even a little struggle as they endured. I am envious.

I'll be back to rehab this week to figure out what the deal is. My suspicion is this: my body does best with consistency. This is why I consistently train year round. I may take an off season and focus more on base and less on mileage/ speed, but I am active year round. After October, my activity level significantly decreased to the point where everything began to tighten up. No matter how much I stretched or foam rolled, my muscles were just big knots. When your muscles tighten up, they put strain on tissues. I believe that all of this is a minor setback related to my muscles being tight. I need a massage.

I tell myself that it's no big deal. And it's not really. Though the lump in my throat would indicate that I feel otherwise. I'm disappointed. But this doesn't impact who I am as an athlete. I have not lost my confidence or my passion or my drive. I have a completely full schedule this spring and summer. I would love to say there will be time to squeeze in another marathon. And maybe there will be. But there might not be and then I will have to say goodbye to my dream of going back to Boston next year.

After I made it back to the finish line, I found my husband, my cousin and his GF in the VIP tent. We hung out for a bit and warmed up, refueled. We watched the clock and when it got close to time, we went out to the last stretch to watch our friends come through. My good friend, who only started running a year ago, ran her first marathon. It was the perfect counter to my day, to watch her come through, smiling all the way. She rocked the Rock n Roll in 4:42, and loved every mile. Her positive attitude is the key to her success and I have no doubt that she'll be back for more. I feel honored to have trained with her and watched her blossom. She inspires me to continue to be passionate and love running simply for the gift that it is.

Dedication

2012-01-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

Do people still request songs on the radio? Do you remember Delilah? (De-Li-Laaaaahhh) Music, like the written word, is an expression of our human emotions. It can be angry, or sad, or pump-me-up. It can get you in the mood or pick you up when you're down. It can make you run faster or slower. I love when music makes you feel something. (Which is probably why I'm a huge Eminem fan- you can just feel his passion.)

Today I received some devestating news from a friend. She is going through some personal trauma that is just shy of Hell. I was taken a little by surprise by my reaction to her news. Not that I wouldn't be upset for her... but I literally went from boiling mad to crying my eyes out (at work no less).

I find that in these situations, when there is little to be said that can relieve the pain, music helps. You can close your eyes, get lost in the melody and cry your eyes out. Following are the lyrics of a beautiful song, with a haunting melody, that captures the sadness and emptiness that we all go through at one time or another. And I want her to know that when she's lost, I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

Song lyrics by Everything But the Girl, We Walk the Same Line.

If you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine.
If you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

Now I don't have to tell you how slow the night can go,
I know you've watched for the light.

And I bet you could tell me how slowly four follows three,
And you're most forlorn just before dawn.

If you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine.
If you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

When it's dark, baby, there's a light I'll shine.
And if you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

And I don't need reminding how loud the phone can ring,
When you're waiting for news.

And that big ol' moon lights every corner of the room.
Your back aches from lying, and your head aches from crying.

So if you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine.
If you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

When it's dark, baby, there's a light I'll shine.
And if you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

And if these troubles should vanish, like rain at midday, well I've no doubt there'll be more.
And we can't run and we can't cheat, cause baby when we meet what we're afraid of,
We find out what we're made of.

So if you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine.
If you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

When it's dark, baby, there's a light I'll shine.
And if you're lost I'm right behind. Cause we walk the same line.

Words to Live By

2012-01-09T11:11:00.000-08:00

We all have secrets. I have a secret little notebook that I carry with me. It's smallish. Maybe 3" x 4". There's nothing special about it. Except for what's in it. Every time I come across something that motivates me... I write it down. Over the years I've accumulated quite a little bit of inspiration that I can pull out when the going gets tough or I just need a little kick in the pants. Things that inspire me might be lyrics from a song, or a quote from a article or famous person, or it might be something that my husband says out of the blue.

As I fight the continuous battle to stay positive though some days I really just feel like crawling under the covers and sulking, I find myself turning the pages of this book more and more frequently. It reminds me to 'suck it up buttercup' and to keep moving one day at a time. I never cheat myself into thinking that things can't possibly get any worse. (Trust me. They can.) I have to just take things where I'm at and do what I can to get by.

Anyone who's followed my blog over the years has probably noticed a significant trend toward the negative in the last few months. I promise I'm not bipolar, or manic-depressive, as my posts swing from relentlessly positive to down in the dumps. It's simply my way of coping and trying to bring myself out of a bad mood. I write to express my feeling, get them out in the open and then move on.

Today I wanted to share what inspires me. Picks me up. Motivates me. Gets me out the door. Puts a smile on my face. And extend an invitation for you to share what inspires you.

Limitations are mental and self imposed. Bob Moad, Edge Learning Institute

If you only had one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment, would you capture it? Or just let it slip? Eminem

Normal, comfortable people rarely accomplish extraordinary things. A Step Beyond

When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place.

Pressure is nothing more than the shadow of great opportunity. Michael Jordan

Real pain is sitting around all your life wondering what pain tastes like. Samantha McGlone

Some people follow their dreams. Others hunt them down and beat them mercilessly into submission. Niel Kendall

I'm gonna ride that bitch like fucking Lance tomorrow. Lieto better look out.
Dan before IMAZ '10

I am not a 'good runner' because I am me. I am a good 'me' because I am a runner.
Kristin Armstrong

When you want to be successful at something as bad as you want to breathe when someone is holding your head underwater, then you will be successful. You must really want it with every fiber of your being.

Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us. Hebrews 12:1

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still shout at the edges of a lake, river, or mountain YES! It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you make. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for someone you love. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments of your life. John Blais

Ringing in the New Year

2012-01-01T08:03:00.000-08:00

I haven't celebrated New Year's Eve in a very long time. I'm going to say 1998 probably. Maybe not even that recently. (Except for one fluke NYE in 2005 shortly after I met my husband, and boy did we celebrate...Yikes.) It's not that I don't love NYE. But I've always been working or sleeping at the stroke of midnight. I remember the millennium new year. I was working in the ICU. Everyone thought we were going to lose power (Y2K and all that jazz). My (then) boyfriend came down and we snuck into the wards for a kiss. That was about the extent of my celebration.

Now, my husband and I like to celebrate our New Year's by getting up early and hopping on the bike before there is any traffic out on the road. (If I weren't working I'd be out there right now with him...) The morning air on the first of January is crisp and cool and very refreshing. The air is filled with hope and dreams and resolutions of personal betterment.

I consider it fate, or destiny, that last night I woke up at 12:55 am. Just in time for registration of the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 mile Endurance Run which opened at 1 am. I missed the ball dropping. I missed the midnight hour. I kissed my husband at 10:30 pm just before we drifted off to sleep. As if my mind was programed, I woke up and glanced at my clock with 5 minutes to spare. Not that I needed to register at 1 am. If it's anything like last year it will still be several weeks before the race sells out. But this is my numero uno goal for the year, and what if it DID sell out?? Then I would have been totally bummed.

So as we muddle through life on January 1, 2012, I sit content knowing that my goal is in reach and a mere 6 1/2 months away. To obtain the air that angels breathe, you must go to Tahoe. (Mark Twain) I'm on my way, baby. I'm on my way.

Turning the Page

2011-12-30T10:04:00.000-08:00

In 2011 I:

*Swam 320,600 yds/m (104 hours).
*Biked 3768 miles (223 hours).
*Ran 1665 miles (272 hours).
*Strength trained 44 hours.
*Participated in "other" activities for 76 hours. (This would include yoga, hiking, paddleboarding, etc.)
*Have been diligent about physical therapy for injury prevention and maintenance. (Thank you Endurance Rehabilitation!)
*Raced 4 half marathons, and set a new PR (1:35:47).
*Raced 7 trail races including my very first 50k and 50 miler.
*Had the most fun running Ragnar Del Sol on an ultra team (I ran 37 miles divided over 3 legs in a 24 hour period).
*Raced 6 triathlons (it was a slow year I guess) including 2 sprints, 3 half IM, and one IM.
*Raced a 4.2 miler (Pat's Run) and a 5k (Sally's Run) setting PRs at both distances.
*Raced one marathon, and set a 3:37:46 PR (Big Sur Marathon).
*Walked 60 miles in 3 days for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure.
*Hiked with my mom through the Grand Canyon for 3 days.
*Vacationed in Hawaii. Twice.
*Vacationed with my family in Pebble Beach.
*Travelled to Coeur D'Alene, Oceanside, Monterey, Tahoe, Show Low, Flagstaff, and all over the Valley of the Sun for races.
*Learned a lot about myself and who I want to be.

When I look back at 2011 I see all the opportunities that I had to enjoy my family in ways that some people never get to do. I consider hiking across the Grand Canyon with my mom one of my lifetime highlights. Not many people can say they did that. Sure, lots of people visit the Grand Canyon. But when you step below the rim, you find out what you're made of... and watching my mom enjoy every single step showed me exactly how life should be embraced. With passion. And joy. Even when the going gets tough.

I got to spend a week in California with my sisters and our husbands/ boyfriend. Its been a long time since the three of us have spent quality time together. We lead very different lives and sometimes it's difficult to find a connection. We all recognized the need to re-connect, as adults, in a neutral territory. Our vacation was 2 years in the making and I believe that we all had a wonderful time, even though we'll always have our differences. We shared laughs and made memories that we'll carry through life. ('Beav for the Maj'... guess you had to be there.. ;-)

And every day that I wake up next to my husband, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Every adventure I embark on, he's there. But he's also there for the every day. The dishes laundry get dinner on the table take out the trash grab the mail scoop the litter box every day life. When life gets busy and we have less time together, we are reminded to make the most of every minute. I kiss him every morning before I leave the house and he kisses me hello when we return every night. We snuggle in front of my favorite show on television (Bones. Duh.) and we chat in the darkness after all the lights are out before drifting off to sleep. I sometimes think back to when I was married before and I thought I "knew" he (my ex) was the one. But this is completely different. It's the most natural partnership in the world. I didn't have to "know" anything because it just is. It's like we've always been a part of each other and always will be.

Looking forward to 2012 I:
*Am excited about going back to Tahoe for the 50 miler. I am even excited about training for the 50 and seeing if I can be better prepared for the elevation and terrain (now that I know what I'm getting into.)

*Am excited about St. George! I love a challenge. This race has never sold out because (some speculate) it's too hard. Huh? It's Ironman. How can it be "too hard"? And with the family throwdown on the line, its going to be epic.

*Am excited about all the little adventures I'll have along the way with my husband and my friends. Since my husband and I made a "no travel" pact for 2012 (meaning, we're only going places we can drive to in an effort to recover from last year's travel and save for 2013 travel) we will have more adventures around the valley and hopefully Flagstaff and the GC. (Did I mention that yours truly got a new pair of tracks that will allow me to hike safely through snow packed trails? Bring on the GC in winter!)

*Am reminded how much I want be in my life every moment. I watch some people (one in particular) who go through life merely spectating. Never embracing life. Walking through each day, doing what has to be done, but never having a passion or a purpose or even a goal. That is the most sad realization of all. Yes, there are days when I feel like I'm just getting by. But usually something lights my fire. A gorgeous sunrise during a bike ride. Jumping in the chilly outdoor pool after a long swim. A text message from a friend just to say hello. It's the little things, I've realized, that make life worth living.

So as we turn the page on our calendar tonight, I wish you all a happy, safe, joyous 2012.

Friendship

2011-12-21T12:11:00.000-08:00

Nobody's perfect. We all make our share of mistakes. The key is knowing when you're wrong, being able to admit to it, and being able to ask for forgiveness or forgive yourself to move forward.

Earlier this year, I neglected a friend in need. She had some family problems. I allowed her to push me away because I was afraid. Afraid of the gravity of the situation. Afraid that I didn't know what to say or do. Afraid that I was unfit to support her emotional needs.  Instead of calling her to chat, or just let her know that I was thinking of her, I waited until the situation resolved and she was back to her normal routine more or less.

But the thing is, these types of situations change you. Whether you know it or not, and she was not the same person after this experience. And since I hadn't been there to support her through it, I didn't grow with her. We grew apart.

Later in the year, I created a hostile environment in our friendship by pushing my dreams onto her. She is extremely talented in running and triathlon, and I envied her. I wanted her to want what I would want if I had her gift. But what she needed was an outlet for stress and anxiety through running. Not to win age group awards. She couldn't understand why I was competing with her, and I couldn't understand why she didn't want to kill herself in races to beat me.

The final straw broke late in the summer when we had a miscommunication. We were meeting at a race and staying the weekend together with my sister. She thought I wanted to have the time to spend with my sister who I rarely get to see and so she gave us some space, heading off on her own to do things. In reality, I was excited for the two of them to meet because they are my closest friends. Instead of communicating my desire to spend time with both of them, I allowed my feelings to get hurt because I didn't understand her perspective.

After that weekend, we stopped communicating. It wasn't long before we stopped emailing. Text messages stopped. We didn't get together to run or have coffee or a beer. There would be an occasional impersonal comment on a facebook post. But I missed my friend.

My other friends got tired of hearing me complain. They wanted to stay neutral because they love us both, but they couldn't understand what had happened. My husband listened to me, but secretly continued to encourage the relationship behind the scenes. But eventually it had to come down to my friend and I talking it out.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from her. It was a simple message. A congrats on one of the races I'd run. But it was a hand reaching out. I responded back, keeping it simple. Things were still awkward when we saw each other at events, but I felt her trying to connect and I wanted the same. I invited her to join another friend and I for pizza next week. She said yes, but she thought we should talk first. I agreed.

We met. We drank coffee. We talked. We talked about everything. We'll never have the last 5 months back, but now we have the future. The last two mornings I've woken up and looked forward to a simple text message or email. Just the daily communication between two friends that says 'I care.' Next week we're running long together. Like we used to do. I don't know what our future holds but I do know that I will be more open with my feelings and supportive of hers.

So why am I sharing this? Because it is Christmas. Because I feel blessed to have gotten an early gift this year. Because we all have a friend (or family member) that we've become estranged from. Because the holidays are a time for renewal, for love and friendship, and for forgiveness. Not everyone will be as lucky as I am to have gotten a second chance.  Some ties will never be unbroken.  Even if your fence can't be mended, you can look within to acknowledge your contribution to the severed relationship, understand how you would change things (if at all), forgive your friend and yourself for the mistakes that each of you made, and allow yourself to have the gift of closure.

Merry Christmas.

Birthday wishes.

2011-12-16T21:01:00.000-08:00

My 35th birthday came and went with minimal fanfare. I got to enjoy the day and reflect on things that make me happy and wanted to share some things that I'm thankful for after 3 1/2 decades of life.

So in no particular order... I'm thankful for:

1. My husband. He is my opposite and my complement all at the same time. He keeps me grounded. He makes me laugh. He helps me to see the positive side of things. He helps me to see what's really important as opposed to what I only perceive as important, but actually might not deserve my full attention.

2. My family. I was so lucky to have been given the family that I have. My parents have been married for 41 years and counting. My sisters are my best friends, even on the days when we don't get along. I grew up in a household that was simultaneously filled with love, laughter, chaos, and adventure.

3. My job. Yes, even though I am not thrilled right now about the hours, or the commute, I do realize how lucky I am to be employed. I will never take this for granted even if I continue to search for my perfect position.

4. My health. Every day that I get out of bed and go for a run, or ride my bike, or swim, I am thankful for my health. I am thankful that my body responds to endorphins. I'm thankful that I can do the things that I love, which also keep me sane. If I were injured or unhealthy and couldn't run.... well I just won't think about that. (Shudder)

5. Endurance Rehab. Enough said. January 7 will mark the one year anniversary of working with my physical therapist, Nate. He helps me get stronger, work on flexibility, all while maintaining my tissues so that I can do the things that I love (and which keep me sane). Without him, I'd be sidelined, injured, inflamed, pained, and I'm sure many other things.

6. My motivation. How boring would it be to walk through life with no real direction or purpose? What stimulates one to get through their day? Having goals to work toward makes my life more interesting and rewarding! When I set a goal and achieve it, I get to celebrate. When I don't achieve a goal, it's a learning experience and I gain from that too.

7. Food! I love food. I love cooking food. I love trying new things. I love eating other people's creations. I love it all. (OK, I'm not a fan of baked beans...weird, I know).

8. My friends. On my birthday, I got to run 20+ miles with a friend of mine who 12 months ago was not a runner. Now she is training for a marathon. I am lucky to be surrounded by a group of supportive, fun, loving people who share my passion for sport, food, books, and life in general.

9. The new year. Every year I become more and more disenchanted with the holidays as it becomes more and more commercialized, and technologized. (yes, I made that word up.) What happened to the days of getting toys for Christmas as a kid? A new sled or a board game. A barbie doll. When did we lose the meaning of Christmas? Now it's all about who has the best and latest gadget. iphones, ipods, video gaming equipment, computers, etc, etc, etc. I want. Give me. Blah blah blah. Where are parents supposed to come up with the money to keep all the spoiled brats happy??? And do the really need a new phone every 6 months? Sigh. I digress.  But, back to my thankfulness for the new year... As we wrap up the holiday season, I look forward to January 1. I get to turn my calendar forward, erasing the past year. I set new goals.  Look forward to new challenges. And look forward to another year of life with my husband.

10. Pizza. I know I already said food. But I feel that pizza deserves it's own shout out. Pizza, that which I consume no less than 3 times per week. Pizza, that which goes down so smoothly with my cold beer on a Saturday night. New York style. Thin crust. Ham, pineapple, tomatoes. Onions, basil, spinach. Veggies. Take n bake.  Frozen. Homemade. Restaurant. Hot out of the oven. Cold leftovers. Oh, how I love thee.

11. My electric blanket. We keep our house fairly cool and try to avoid running the heater. But I like to be cozy when I sleep. My husband got tired of me coming to bed in 3 layers of clothing so he got me an electric blanket for our anniversary. Best. Gift. Ever. Now I get to slumber, sans clothing, in my cozy bed with my wonderful husband. And we each have our own temperature controls to regulate our sides of the bed. (Did I mention, best gift ever?)

12. My cats. Yes, I am the crazy cat lady. I love all 4 of them to pieces. They like when I sing to them from the musical, Cats. They like when I talk to them. They love to snuggle and be petted. They like to sit in my lap. The demand so little, and give so much.

And there are a lot of other things that I'm thankful for. Honesty. Laughter. A warm embrace. My husband cheering for me from the sidelines. Birthday texts and FB posts. Trails. Fall days. Green trees. Grass. The Grand Canyon. The ability to travel. Mt Lemmon. Brooks. My new kindle. Inspiration. The ocean. A soft purr. A hot bath. Sing-o-grams. Coffee.

The list is endless, as it should be. I strive, daily, to be thankful for everything that I have. It's not always easy. But it is always worth it.

Run for Sally

2011-12-10T12:57:00.001-08:00

Today, December 10, 2011 was the inaugural Sally's Run 5k. This run was the brainchild of Sally's close friends and family who wanted to honor her and over the last 10 months, since her death, it went from vision to reality. Who was Sally, you ask? Check out www.sallymeyerhofffoundation.com or www.run4sal.com to be inspired. Inspired by Sally's accomplishments, but also by the legacy she left behind.

For me, the run today was a chance to race an honest 5k, which I have not done in about 3 years. When you focus on long course events, it's rare to be in good enough shape to really race a short distance. But I set this goal months ago as I laid out my fall and winter schedule... and I wanted a PR.

I had all my excuses lined up on why I couldn't run a fast 5k. I'm under-trained, underfed and under-rested. My hip flexors, which haven't bothered me in years, have flared up again now that I'm sitting 2 1/2 hours extra per day during my commute. My husband made me do a core workout yesterday afternoon. (Seriously I'm just searching for reasons now.) Fear is the enemy. You can line up your excuses and execute them one by one. (Who would really blame me if I ran a minute slower today?) Or you can look fear in the eye and call it's bluff.

I watch people sabotage their own races all the time by giving in to fear, or fear's twin brother, doubt. This tactic is not me. I don't want excuses. If I don't reach a goal it's not for lack of trying. I made the decision to go out as hard as I could and just keep going until I crossed the line. I wouldn't look at my watch because I didn't want an excuse to slow down. (If you're running ahead of pace, hey, why not slow down and be more comfortable? If you're running behind pace, well you may as well slow down cause you can't reach the goal anyway. Right?)

We arrived 45 minutes ahead of the start and began our warm-up on the course. The race director told me the only little incline was at mile one, so we ran the course to about 1.1 miles and then turned around. I peeled off my warm-up clothes to reveal my custom Splish swim suit with Sally's motto "Be Relentlessly Positive" across the front. Today, no matter what happened, we were honoring a friend and it would be a good day.

There were a lot of really, really talented runners in the field. Collegiate track and field stars. Olympians. I felt a little silly lining up at the front, but since the race wasn't chip timed, I wanted my official recorded time to be my actual time, since I was aiming for a PR. In reality, once the gun went off, it didn't matter because the really fast runners were off like a shot and I didn't hold anyone up.

A few hundred yards in, I get passed by my friend SMG. She hollers out a breezy "Heeeyyyy" as she struts by, hardly breathing. I (gasping for oxygen) stutter "can't. talk." in response. (We had a good laugh about this after the race). I ran my heart out. I didn't look at my watch. I knew it would be over quickly, regardless of my time. I just needed to get to the finish as fast as possible. I was choking on thick, ropey saliva by the two mile mark but I did not reach for water. There is no time for water in a 5k.

Coming out of the park into the home straightaway with a half mile to go I picked up the pace. There were no more turns. No more inclines. I could see the finish line banner and needed to get there. With a tenth of a mile to go, I heard the announcer give the time. At that point, I knew I would PR and let out a huge sigh (grunt?) of relief. I did not let up. I crossed the finish line in 21 minutes and 9 seconds. 21:09. A PR by 15 seconds. Unlike last week, where 15 seconds equated out to 1 second per mile, 15 seconds over a 5k is 5 seconds per mile. I'll take it!

Sally's sister Samantha high fived me after the finish. My physical therapist from Endurance Rehabilitation was volunteering at the finish and I made sure he knew I ran a PR, thanks in good part to his work with me over the last year. We stayed for two hours chatting with friends and hanging out. It was a beautiful event, on a beautiful day.

Today we honored someone who lost her life, unexpectedly, way to early. She would have turned 28 years old last week. It is a reminder to those left behind that every day is a gift. A chance to love. A chance to enjoy life. A chance to live. No matter what obstacles we face, or life throws at us, any day on this side of the asphalt is a good day. In honor of Sally, I choose to live out loud, relentlessly, positively, fully.

The Art of Pacing Through the Pain

2011-12-04T17:09:00.001-08:00

Today I ran the Fiesta Bowl 1/2 Marathon. My goal? To run under 1:36:00. To set a new PR. What made today special? I took a slightly different approach to the race. I joined a pace team. A new tactic for me.

A trusted friend volunteered to lead the 1:35 pace group for the 1/2 marathon. I was excited when he posted this duty and immediately jumped on board. In addition, my husband (who is just bringing his mileage and speed back up after a month off due to injury) joined the group to help keep me on track since he wasn't fit enough to race his own pace. With friends like this on board, what could go wrong?

We started near the front line and immediately after the gun went off, SR was monitoring his watch and his Garmin to ensure that we stayed on pace, not too fast, but not slower than necessary. The first mile felt easy. Probably because it was the first mile. But by 7 minutes into the race, I knew that it was going to take everything I had today to get across the line under 1:36.

Our group started with maybe a dozen people. My husband and SR set the pace up front and chatted easily. I tucked in behind SR and just focused on his loping stride. I tried not to think much. Just run. Slowly, we lost members of our team and by the time we hit 8 miles there were 3 of us left.

For the first 8-10 miles, the aid stations were spread out 2 miles apart.  Each of the last 3 miles contained aid.  As we approached the water stations, my husband urged me to keep running and he'd bring me water.  I already felt guilty enough being in a pace group, I felt the need to get my water myself. So I did. I don't know if I lost any time, I doubt it.

We held a steady pace of 7:12-7:15 miles. With each mile, it became more and more difficult for me to just run. I hurt. My quads hurt. I couldn't control my breathing. I had a side stitch. After we passed 9 miles, SR began to gain a little space on me. I tried my best to hold on. I kept him in sight. My husband stayed with me and set a new pace. Not a sub-1:35 pace, but a PR pace. For 10 miles we were on 1:35 pace which meant that I had a little cushion (1 minute) in which I could still PR.

He tried his best to encourage me. To make me run faster. To want it more. I felt like I was giving everything I had, and my legs just wouldn't turn over anymore.  My feet were slapping the ground with each footfall. Gritting my teeth, I growled at him to "stop talking, just set the pace." I was done. After my second admonishment, he ran in front of me, quietly setting the pace.

With each mile marker I glanced at my watch to make sure I was still on pace.  Mile 11 was 7:30.  Crap. Mile 12, which I swore I'd never get to, was 7:30. I was losing my cushion. I was down to 30 seconds to secure my PR. I put my head down and ran. My husband was just ahead, cheering me through the last two turns into the finish line. "Use your arms!" "Last turn straight ahead!" "GO!!"

I crossed the line in 1:35:47. A PR by 15 seconds. 15 seconds. That's a mere 1 second per mile. It's crazy how much one second can hurt. The last time I ran this course was 3 years ago. 2008 during the build-up to my first Boston-qualifying marathon. I was in amazing shape that year. I had run a 1:38 half marathon in Tulsa in November, and 4 weeks later a 1:36:02 at Fiesta Bowl. 4 weeks later? My first running injury sidelined me.  It's nice to know that 10 days shy of my 35th birthday, I can still run fast.

I have mixed feelings about pace groups. I always want to feel like I earned the result that I got. Ultimately, it's my legs that carry me through the 13.1 miles. No one can do that for me. And I didn't take any assistance from my husband, even though he freely offered. But you know what? Even if it hadn't been my friend leading the pace group, or my husband by my side... it would have been someone else. That's the beauty of racing. We use each other, whether we know each other or not. In the race I ran a month ago, I used the women ahead of me as targets. I reeled them in slowly one by one. When someone tried to pass, I picked up the pace and went harder. It's not really any different than using SR to chase over 10 miles today. It's just a different strategy. Not better. Just different.

What would have happened today without the pace group? We'll never know. I suspect I would have gone out really hard in the first mile or 3, and then held on to finish in a similar time frame. I was ready for this race. I was trained for sub-1:36. I set my goal and realized it. It's that simple.

I look forward to next weekend. Another chance for another PR. In a 5k... a whole different level of hurt. It's short, it's sweet, and it's oh so scary. My husband accused me of being a masochist. Looking forward to that level of pain. But as another good friend of mine once said, real pain is sitting around all your life wondering what pain tastes like.

Ho Ho Fuc&ing Ho

2011-11-28T15:14:00.000-08:00

Ho Ho Fuc&ing Ho. What a crock of shit.
I have tried, for 3 weeks, to convince myself that the "changes" in my life are for the better and it will all work out in the end. In truth, I keep saying that to try to make it true... but in reality, I'm miserable. A month ago, I was running a TON. I was up to nearly 60 miles a week and loving it. The more I ran, the more I wanted to run. Now, I'm barely averaging 35 miles a week. Less endorphins= less happy me.

We all work for Santa Claus, and we're all about to quit.
My body is in shock with my new schedule. It's not sure what to do, other than sleep all the time. And even when I've gotten 9 hours of sleep, I don't feel rested. I feel like a zombie. Caffeine does nothing to help. I haven't seen my husband in 3 weeks. And forget biking or swimming. It ain't happening. That would require even more time that I don't have.

Cause we do all the fuc&ing work, while he stars in the show.
This sucks. Unfortunately there is nothing that I can do and I have to try to make the best of it. This means that I'm going to be looking at alternate places to run and swim in order to maximize time and minimize commuting. Dude. Rush hour sucks. I have never had to drive in traffic before. And believe me. You should never unleash an impatient bitch on rush hour traffic. I have to blast my Eminem CD to calm myself down.

Stick your Christmas up your as$.
Sooo... now I'm at the point where I have to rethink every goal I set for myself this spring. My half marathon and 5k are in the next 2 weeks. I think I have retained enough fitness to achieve my goals in those races assuming I can get some decent sleep. And eat! OMG I hardly eat anymore because there's just no time. (Good for the weight loss program though.) So if I can fuel and rest I should be able to PR in both races.

Ho Ho Fuc&ing Ho.
The marathon in January? Now I'm freaking out. My longest run has been 13 miles and that was 3 weeks ago. I'm supposed to fit in a couple of 20 milers starting, well, last week. I specifically didn't register for Boston this year when I qualified at Big Sur because I thought I'd just go ahead and qualify at PF Chang's in January and go in 2013. Now I'm going to be uber pissed off if I don't make my goal because Boston was going to be my "A" race for 2013.

OK, deep breath. Thank you for allowing me to vent. (I'm not actually a Christmas-hater, the lyrics just match my current mood.) I'm going to go home and re-introduce myself to my kitchen. I haven't actually been there in a while other than to pull frozen dinners out of the freezer for work. Tonight: grilled salmon enchiladas with avocado sauce. I'm trying to replicate one of my favorite restaurant meals.

On a positive note (because I am trying to be relentlessly positive), I had a fantastic trail race 2 weekends ago at the Aravaipa Running Pass Mountain 26k. This is a course that I am very familiar with and love. The first 9 miles or so are flat and fast through some of the lower trails. Then you start climbing on a rocky, technical bit of trail. When you reach the peak of Pass Mountain the views are amazing if you stop to take it all in. Then you fly downhill for the final 4 miles or so. I love this trail and since I've been practicing... I managed to take 31 minutes off my time from last year!

Susan G. Komen: The 3-Day for the Cure

2011-11-16T20:59:00.001-08:00

When I signed up to walk The 3-Day last year, I didn't know what to expect entirely. I hoped to be immersed in a positive atmosphere where we could promote breast cancer awareness and provide encouragement to survivors and co-survivors (the Komen term for the support group of survivors). I had no idea how amazing this event would truly be.

My goal was to have my fundraising done in June so I could focus on other things. Thanks to the generosity of my family and friends, I was able to reach my goal in June. Each walker is required to raise $2300 minimum in order to participate in the walk. I've heard comments in support of and against this requirement. My opinion is that we are raising money for cancer research and community programs. The more money we raise the better. If you don't require participants to raise money, they won't. It's as simple as that. No one likes to solicit for money. But what's the point of a thousand women walking 60 miles with nothing to show at the end other than a big bill for putting the whole thing on?

So, I am very much in support of the fundraising minimum and had no trouble reaching the goal with months to spare. And I was glad to see big name sponsors such as Bank of America and New Balance providing amenities and support for us at camp and throughout the event. Without corporate sponsors, the foundation would have to fork out a lot of cash to produce this event. Again, the more money that can go toward cancer research the better.

The hardest part of the whole experience was packing. In the valley of the sun we rarely have anything other than sunshine and varying degrees of warm. This weekend however, rain was in the forecast. This meant extra gear. With an extra-large duffel bag, I thought I'd have room to spare. Not so much.

Day 1:
On Friday morning my teammate (HP) picked me up at the ass-crack of dawn. We had to be checked in prior to 6 AM. Her husband drove us downtown where the volunteers had a smooth system of drop off rolling. The whole thing was very efficient and even the Starbucks, located on the edge of the park, was fully staffed and handed me my latte with time to spare.

Team Trekkin' for Titties

We joined the hoards of walkers already in the corral. A sea of pink. There was a brief ceremony presenting all the reasons why we walk and to honor those we've lost. It was very moving. And then... we began to walk.

Our first day took us 22 miles from downtown Phoenix, through Paradise Valley, and on a tour of North Scottsdale. We had "pit stops" every couple of miles where walkers could replenish water and calorie supplies. At about 12 miles in we had lunch. After lunch, our other teammate (GV) was dragging a little bit and we tried to encourage her, and support her, (all while entertaining her) as we continued to the end of our day 1 journey. Somehow, through the day, we slowly worked our way to the front of the pack and after 8 hours and 15 minutes of walking we arrived at camp.

We didn't realize it at the time, but we were lucky to have camp all to ourselves. No line for the showers. No line for the foot massage at the BOA booth. Luxury all for us. We showered and got some food. I ate like I've never eaten before. The food was really really good. Lots of veggies, mac and cheese, pasta marinara, salads. And hot coffee (thank you Starbucks for the VIA!!). After filling our bellies we lounged around. I barely made it to 7 PM before I was asleep in the tent. I slept like a rock, waking at about 4:30 AM with the noise of other walkers beginning to stir.

Day 2:
Reality check. My feet hurt. I have a hot spot (turned blister by the end of the day). Walking sucks! I would so much rather be running. But as I kept reminding my team, it wasn't about what we want, or what feels comfortable. For me, The 3-Day experience was about emulating the suffering of a cancer victim. Not trying to avoid pain and discomfort but to embrace it as a learning experience. My feet hurt to walk on my blister. So? Patients undergoing chemotherapy develop sores in their mouths that make it painful with each bite of food. I think I can suck it up and walk on my blister.

The route for day 2 took us 18 miles on a tour of North Scottsdale. It was scenic and the neighborhoods were nice. I was in a good mood the whole day. HP decided half way through the day that it felt better to speed walk so mid-morning we latched onto a couple of ladies from another team and let them pace us into lunch. After lunch HP took off like a bat out of hell and I couldn't keep up anymore. I told her to go ahead - her family was waiting for her at the cheer station just down the road. I caught her there and we finished the day together. GV walked with her sweetheart today and arrived about 30 minutes or so after us.

Day 2 is finished! Still smiling...

Camp: A sea of pink tents!

We showered and walked around camp looking at all the tent decorations. Some people went all out with Christmas lights and everything. Next time we'll know better. We also visited the Remembrance Tent which is set up to honor participants who were supposed to walk, or have previously walked, that were lost this year to breast cancer. Survivors and co-survivors write notes to their lost friends and family and there are pictures everywhere. It was very moving, but I had this overwhelming feeling of emptiness. I looked at photos of women who were my age. 1 week ago, or 3 months ago, or last year they were alive. And now they are dead. It wasn't depressing as you might think. In the spirit of Susan G. Komen, it was motivating and hopeful. It made me want to kick cancer's ass and find a cure for this awful disease.

We took a hot shower and headed up to the mess hall for another round of foot massages (we went through the line twice!) and then sat down to dinner. Another nice spread of food and good conversation. Shortly after dinner I retired to the tent for another dreamless night of sleep.

Getting massages courtesy of Bank of America!

Day 3:
It rained overnight on Saturday night. The ground was wet as we packed our bags and tore down our tent. Thankfully it sprinkled only the first 10 minutes of our walk and then it stopped, despite remaining overcast. I spent the first 2 hours of the morning trying to keep up with HP as she set a blistering pace. And speaking of blister, I had found a small blister pad in my kit and was able to tape up my heel so I could walk comfortably for the final day (yeah!!). We blazed through the morning and by the time we hit the "lunch stop" we were being held up because we were now ahead of when the next part of the course actually opened. So each time we hit a pit stop we had to wait about 10 minutes before we could continue walking. This usually gave me enough time to catch HP.

Leaving the final pit stop we stuck together and she drag-walked me to the finish! We had texted my husband to tell him when to expect us. He was just pulling into the parking garage in Old Town when we crossed the finish banner. We were among the top 10 finished (though it was NOT a race!!). We took a few photos and collected our finisher shirt and pink rose. Then we demanded to go for pizza and beer. We had spotted a place a few blocks down the street on our way in. The pizza never tasted so good and the beer numbed my tired feet.

After lunch we picked up my gear bags and headed home for a much deserved hot bath. Over 3 days we walked 60 miles in 19 hours and 45 minutes. Our team raised over $6900 for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. If you've ever considered participating in this event, I would highly recommend it. Extremely well organized. Fun and again, HOPEFUL! There were a few tears, but infinitely more laughter. It made me appreciate being alive and being able.

On a final note I'd like to make a shout out to the awesome people of Scottsdale who gave us jello shots (tequila!!) toward the end of day 2. You rock. And to all the people who came out to show support and cheer for us... you are amazing. You made us feel like rock stars. You have no idea how much your support kept us going for 60 miles. You fed our bellies with snacks and drinks, and you fed our souls with your love. Thank you!

Road vs. Trail

2011-11-15T22:28:00.001-08:00

The fall racing season is in full swing. Every weekend I look forward to the event on my calendar, wishing the day would last just a little bit longer. These events are the rewards for the time spent training, working, stressing. This is me time.

Since I have been without internet for the last few weeks (and therefore completely out of touch with reality) I have to go back to October to catch you up on the most recent events. My life is finally settling down and I'm adjusting to my new routine. I've always embraced change. I fully believe in spring fever. I think that it's important to take stock of things once a year and clean out the clutter that has accumulated in my house, life, job, relationships, etc. This year "spring" came a little earlier than I had anticipated and it has definitely caught me off guard. But I just have to keep rolling with the punches. What else can you do?

So today I am going to give a little contrast between the joys of trail racing (Cave Creek Thriller, October 29) and the art of road racing (The Women's Half Marathon, November 6).... I close my eyes and go back to the start line...

Cave Creek Thriller:
The morning was warm by the time our 8 AM start rolled around. I was amped up and ready to get the show on the road (or trail as it were). If you remember my post from last year, this event was my first real exposure to trail racing, and I bonked badly in the 3rd loop. I ended up walking about 4 miles and my friend who was also racing actually came back out on course looking for me when she realized she'd been done for over an hour and I was still MIA. My goal this year was to take an hour off of my time, and hopefully place in the top 3 women.

I planned to wear my hydration pack for the entire 19.6 miles. I decided that I'd rather schlep the extra weight than risk a repeat of last year. The course was slightly different this year with the first 10k being on an out and back on a rocky, technical (read: really freakin' awesome!) trail. After the 10k, the course continued on a two loop course which had some challenging hills but only one technical descent. And the final 1 1/2 miles of each loop was downhill. Fast, hold-on-tight, smokin' downhill.

I hauled ass for the first 7 miles, averaging a sub- 9 minute pace. Once I hit the loop part of the course I started working on my nutrition plan and walked the steep uphill at the start of the loop, running the rest of the loop. I succeeded in taking an hour off my time, crossing the finish line in 3:31. I missed the top 3 (I think I may have been 6th?) but there is definitely more competition this year as word has spread about how awesome the Aravaipa series is.

Afterwards I hung out and ate some pumpkin pie and tried to ease my cramping adductor. Eventually I poured my tired ass into my car and drove back to the east valley to meet a friend for pizza. We chatted about life and he helped me to gain a little perspective. After I was well fed I stopped for some ice on my way home and treated myself to an ice bath to soothe my legs.

Fast forward 7 days....

The Women's Half Marathon:
Several weeks before race day, my good friend and training partner (HP) told me she was going to run the half. She had been targeting the 5k, but wanted a bigger challenge. She met me at my house early on Sunday morning and my husband drove us to the start line.

I was ready to run a solid race, but I think I was more excited for her to have a great time. There is nothing like tackling a new challenge to boost your self esteem and make you feel like you can do anything. We did a little warm up and handed off our extra clothes. I lined up in the front row and when the gun went off I shot out of there like a bullet!

I went out way too hard for the first mile. Not intentionally I was just running on pure adrenaline. At mile one, I was in about 5th place. This should have been my first clue to slow down considering that last year I placed 90th overall. Oh well. I would slow down eventually.

I had hoped to run a 1:40, but as the miles ticked by I realized that I was holding my pace well and could potentially even PR. My husband kept popping up along the course shouting encouragement. At about mile 9 we turned into a head wind, and were running up a hill and I began to feel every ounce of effort that I had expended in the first hour of racing. I passed my friends on my way back to the finish line but barely had the energy to acknowledge them as they ran by. I was gulping Gatorade hoping to have a little burst of energy to get me to the finish. I had nothing left.

With a quarter mile to go, I saw my husband for the final time. He shouted at me to keep pushing- knowing my PR was close but not realizing how much there was left to run. I crossed the line in 1:36:45... missing my PR by 44 seconds. And I placed in the top 45 overall. I was thrilled! I had no intention of running a 1:36, and I felt even more confident that in December, when I want to run a PR, I will be able to reach that goal.

I cooled down a little and watched for HP to come around the final corner. At just over 2:10 she came by smiling. I was beyond excited. She completely smashed every expectation I had for her in this event. And her first words across the finish line? "Bring on the marathon!" By the end of the day she had signed up for her first marathon in 8 weeks from now! I can't wait to watch her complete that goal. 8 months ago she didn't run. Now she is a runner. Amazing. We celebrated with breakfast at the Gilbert House (YUM-O) and coffee and recounted our adventures. I went home a very happy girl.

So to compare: I ran the trail race at about a 10:45 pace and completely smashed myself. I was sore for days and felt great about my accomplishment. I ran the half marathon at 7:21 pace and completely smashed myself. I was sore for days and felt great about my accomplishment. How do you choose? For me, I don't. I do it all. My heart loves the trails and being out in nature with the solitude and lack of noise, crowds, traffic. My soul loves the thrill of flying and running faster that I think I possibly can, challenging myself, and achieving something that is just on the edge of impossible. I need to feed both heart and soul.

Quick Update

2011-11-10T06:43:00.001-08:00

I wanted to take about 30 seconds to let you know I'm still alive and kicking! My life has gotten a little bit chaotic over the last month and I'm still trying to catch up. I have many stories to share with you from the first of the trail series as well as a recent half marathon. Unfortunately it will have to wait until next week when I have time to sit and think! Look for some new posts on the 15th. I love to write, it's very cathartic for me. I've missed my time of reflection and can't wait to sit down with a cup of coffee and my computer for a few hours. In the meantime, I've gotta run!

Tales from the Trails

2011-10-23T16:37:00.000-07:00

My weekends for the last 2 months have been filled with trail running. Every Thursday I look at my schedule and decide which trails I'm running and how far. I love trail running. Aside from making me super strong, trails are a great escape. Stressed? Hit the trails. Mad about something? Hit the trails. Happy and content? Hit the trails. I can't get enough of the solitude, being away from cars and the general noise of life for a while. Even when I have the pleasure of company on the trails, I feel like I am escaping from the crowds.

Last weekend, completely jet lagged from our return to the mainland, I ran the Javalina 12 hour Night Run put on by Aravaipa Running. The beauty of a timed event is that you can run as far or (in my case) as little as you want. Since my husband came with me out to McDowell Mountain Park, I opted for one loop as he would be very bored and half asleep waiting on me to run further. So I made the most of it. When the clock ticked down to race time and we were told to "GO!" I took off. My goal was to make it through the rocky climb at mile 3 before needing my headlamp. The sun was quickly setting, but I made it past the worst of the rocks before I needed a little light assistance.

I discovered quickly that I should have changed the batteries in my headlamp. The beam was very dim and did little to light my path. Luckily, I had a small flashlight for backup and dug that out of my pack to help out my dying headlamp. I didn't feel great. My legs were trashed from rehab on Friday (learned a new routine!) and my tummy was yucky after a normal day of eating. Being a morning runner, I almost never eat before running. I find it difficult to fuel for an evening run. I tried to be very careful, eating things that were easily digested, but it went awry somewhere around 3 pm after which time I was bloated and generally not in a good place. (I'm pretty sure it was the iced coffee drink that I thought would give me a nice caffeine boost...)

Despite all of that I ran hard and well for the entire 15.5 mile loop. My friend LM passed me at mile 4, flying in her very first trail race! I was excited for her and thrilled that her first experience was such a great one. And MPS caught me around mile 7 or 8. We ran together for a couple of miles before he finally left me with about 3 miles to go. Overall I was thrilled with my effort. I finished 21 minutes faster than last year, and was 3rd woman and 10th overall in the single loop division. After the race, and into the next day, I complained that I felt like I had run two loops. My already defeated legs were not happy about my hard run! Sunday morning we slept in and had a leisurely bike ride to our favorite breakfast place in an attempt to palliate my limbs.

Between work and family stuff, the week flew by. Soon it was Thursday again and I was contemplating my trail plans for the weekend. I decided to check out a couple of trails that I had never run out at Pemberton on Saturday, planning for around 15-16 miles. On Sunday, I would tackle the 5.6 mile loop at San Tan with my friend HP.

Saturday I was up early. Having woken at about 4 am, I was in and out of sleep and finally decided to get out of bed at 5:10 am. I hit the road at 5:30 ish and headed out to MMP. My legs were sluggish from the 28 miles accumulated already in the week. I didn't have my usual pep in my trail step. At 1.8 miles in, on perfectly flat, sandy trail I totally hit the dirt. My toe caught a rock and in seemingly slow motion, I hit the ground with my hands, right knee and finally right shoulder before I slid to a stop. I laid on the ground for a moment, my already beat-up body now even more so. I crawled to my hands and knees and surveyed the damage. Pretty minimal cuts on my hands and knee. My shoulder took the brunt of the trail rash, but was covered by my T-shirt and therefore contained limited amounts of debris. I used my hydration pack to rinse the wounds and got moving again, being more careful to pick up my feet.

At 3.5 miles, Dixie Mine Trail diverged to the left. This was where I began exploring, and I loved every minute of it. Dixie Mine took me up and over the ridge and down down down to the valley floor only to rise again on the other side. It was rocky, steep ups and downs, and overall just the challenge I was looking for. I had a map I was following, but I didn't know exactly how far it would be taking me. I could have turned around at any time, but I was enjoying it so much. I ended up taking DM to it's dead end before I turned around. I stopped, checked out the trail head, ate the contents of a Peter Rabbits Organics pouch, and hit the trail again.

By now I was 9 miles in and feeling a little fatigued. I had to walk a couple of the steeper segments but I ran the entire gradual climb back to where Coachwhip Trail diverged, the second of my new trail adventures. CW was another fun trail to explore. Very runable. I bumped into a handful of mountain bikers, the first people I had seen all day. About 2 1/2 miles later I was back onto Pemberton, at mile 14, heading toward the Tonto Tank Trail. I was cooked. I took my second PRO pouch and took some salt capsules.

I hit 15 miles just before Tonto Tank. Finally, a nice downhill stretch! I coasted down the trail. Not super fast, but holding a 9:20 pace which was decent at 17 miles in. With a mile to go, I turned back onto the Pemberton Trail heading toward the parking lot/ trailhead. I stepped into the open lot just as I took my last sip of water from my hydration pack. Couldn't have timed it any better. I had run 18.6 miles. Little bit longer than planned, but worth every step.

And I can't help but wonder, is it wrong that I wear my trail rash like a badge of honor? I have been showing it off to everyone. Yes, I am a clutz. But I'm a badass clutz. 18.8 miles and some bruising and scrapes to show for it.

Looking forward to next weekend: The Cave Creek Thriller! First of the fall trail series by Aravaipa Running. My goal is to beat my time from last year by 45-60 minutes. (I bonked bad last year and ended up walking about 6 miles...) I heart trails!

Grand Canyon Expedition

2011-10-16T17:12:00.000-07:00

About 2 years ago, my mom (SE) expressed interest in hiking the Grand Canyon. Having never seen the GC other than in a flight over from Vegas many years ago, she wanted to experience it first hand. I agreed to organize the trip and sent out a message to our entire extended family to see who else was interested in going. We had one taker, my mom's brother (RA).

So the three of us looked at our schedules and picked out a couple of options. Since they were coming from out of town, we needed to make our reservations 12 months in advance. On September 1, 2010, I called the reservation hotline at around 9 am. Phantom Ranch was sold out. Entire month of September 2011. I made a mental note to try again on October 1, only I set my alarm to be on the phone by 6 am when they opened.

On October 1, 2010 I made our reservations. 2 night at Phantom Ranch. We would start our hike on the North Rim, hike down the North Kaibab to Phantom Ranch, and then hike out on the Bright Angel Trail to the South Rim. We had one year to prepare. Mom got busy training. In preparation for our trip she hiked Haleakala on Maui, Mt. Elbert in Colorado, and in the mountains of Tahoe. She came prepared with proper hiking boots (which she had broken in and used on all her previous hiking trips), hiking poles, and gear. And most importantly, she showed up with a positive attitude.

Fast forward one year. Everyone convenes in Phoenix. We have an early wake up call, toss our gear in the back of the Xterra and hit the road. After a quick stop in Paradise Valley to pick up RA, we are on the road headed toward the South Rim.

We walked along the rim a little, bought some souvenirs, and had lunch. We had a 1:30 shuttle to take us to the North Rim where we would spend the night before beginning our trek. After a long drive through the desert, we arrived at the lodge just as the sun was setting.

We enjoyed a fabulous dinner, complete with pie for dessert, and hit the racks. We were meeting the shuttle driver at 5:15 am for a ride to the trail head.

The air was chilly at 5:30 am. With headlamps on, we hit the North Kaibab Trail. My mom had never used a headlamp and it was a little slow going for the first 45 minutes until the sun was up. But we were loving the crisp air, and the sound of the breeze through the trees. When the sun rose in the sky the colors in the canyon were amazing!

We switchbacked down the trail for about 7-8 miles. Once you reach the bottom, it's another 6-7 miles to Phantom Ranch on mostly flat ground through a side canyon. The sky was overcast which was nice, it was plenty warm without the sun beating down on us. We even got a little rain shower when we neared our destination. We stopped several times along the way to eat, rest and soak our feet in the chilly waters.

We arrived at Phantom Ranch at 3:30 pm. 10 hours on our feet. We checked into our dormitory, showered and lined up for dinner at 5 pm. We ate as if we'd never seen food before. Steak, salad, corn bread, veggies, baked potatoes, and chocolate cake. Well fed, we fell into a deep sleep at 6:30 pm.

On Sunday morning, we hiked down to the river after breakfast for a little sight seeing. We hiked across the bridge to the start of the South Kaibab Trail. We took some photos and checked out the map. We watched rafters float by down the river. It was a relaxing morning, followed by even more relaxation.

After noon, SE and RA decided to take a nap. That was my opportunity to explore a little bit. I found a trail head just outside of Phantom Ranch for the Clear Creek Trail. I headed up the side of the canyon for about 45 minutes. Several points along the way I could look back and see Phantom Ranch far below me. Finally, I began to wrap around the canyon wall I was climbing and had stunning views in both directions. The trail narrowed significantly and I found myself on a very narrow dirt path which slanted ever so slightly toward the drop off. I began to panic a little bit (I have a fear of heights) and after assessing the situation (the trail didn't widen again any time soon) I decided that this would be my turn around point.

I very slowly turned with my back to the cliff, trying not to look down. When I was faced outward, I glanced down ever so slightly and gasped at the most amazing view of the canyon I had ever seen. I sat down on a rock and just took it all in for about 15-20 minutes. To my right, way down in the canyon was the bridge we had crossed early that day. Straight across from me was the South Kaibab Trail switchbacking up the canyon wall. And the craggy cliffs lining the carved out canyon reminded me of the Napali Coastline on Kauai. Stunning.

I hesitated to post photos because they absolutely do not do it justice. The sun was bright and my camera doesn't handle the bright sunlight well. The photos are too washed out. But you can at least get a sense of the terrain.

After enjoying the view and solitude, I hiked back down to Phantom Ranch. I woke my mom up from her nap and we walked back down to the river to soak our legs in the cold water. We followed our "ice bath" with some cold beers in the cantina before dinner. Once again we were in bed early with a 3:45 am wake up call.

On Monday morning, we hit the Bright Angel Trail at 4:30 am. We had a long hike out of the canyon and we wanted to get an early start to avoid any potential heat. The first several miles of the hike wind along the river on relatively flat ground. By the time we began the real climb, the sun was up and once again we were amazed with one incredible view after another. Every turn in the trail was another opportunity to enjoy our amazing environment.

We reached the half way point at 3 1/2 hours into the hike. Indian Garden provided a nice rest area and we paused to eat, drink and relax. From there, we had stops every 1 1/2 miles until the top. There were water stops at 3 miles to go, 1 1/2 miles to go. My mom was doing great and my uncle was sticking with her every step of the way, so I chose to hike at a more aggressive pace and stopped to wait for them at the rest areas. By the time I reached 1 1/2 miles to go the clouds were rolling in and I was getting chilly. I was somewhere above 6000 ft at this point. I changed into a long sleeve top and told them I'd meet them at the trail head on the rim. I hauled butt out of the canyon, arriving at the rim minutes before a storm broke out.

I found some cover under a tree and changed into warmer clothes. I waited until the rain stopped and then made my way to the overlook so I could watch for them on the last few switchbacks. When I saw them nearing the top, I hiked back down the trail to meet them. We took a few last photos and celebrated our accomplishment. We reached the rim at about 1:15 pm.

It was a long drive back to the valley. We stopped for lunch of pizza and beer and chatted about what an amazing thing the Grand Canyon is and how lucky we are to have explored it. Very few people who visit the Grand Canyon actually visit Phantom Ranch. We can say that we made it to the bottom and back out.

My mom did an amazing job. Hiking the Grand Canyon is rigorous and not something that can be entered into lightly. Every year people die in the canyon, and even more are rescued. Preparation is key, and attitude is everything. My mom smiled the entire way. She never uttered one negative word. Didn't complain about anything, and at 63 years of age, I'm sure she had aches and pains that warranted complaint. She was happy to be there and was up for anything.

I think she got to experience a little taste of what any endurance athlete faces. When the adventure is over, you are left with an empty feeling. What's next? You spend so much time and energy getting to the adventure, that when it's over, it is anticlimactic. No one will really understand what you've been through, except those that were there with you. You have to go back to your real life. You share photos and stories, but it's hard for those in the outside world to really comprehend.

To that note, I would say, Mom, I'm with you. I remember. And I'm ready to go again. Just say the word. I'm sure she's already planning her next adventure. I just hope I get to go with her.

Ironman World Championships: View from the sidelines

2011-10-11T22:32:00.000-07:00

Inspiration comes in many forms. Challenging oneself. Overcoming fears. Overcoming obstacles. Exceeding limitations. In my very ego-centric sport of triathlon, sometimes inspiration can be hard to come by. It gets overshadowed by all the pushing, pulling, shoving, shouting, of athletes clawing for the spotlight, myself included. Sometimes I can't help but think of the country song in which the chorus goes something like: Wanna talk about me, wanna talk about I, wanna talk about number one oh my me my. What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I see. But from the sea of self- centeredness this week came a few of the best inspirations. So let me share a little of my week on the Big Island during the Ford Ironman World Championships...

It all began on Tuesday when, after a very long flight, we stepped off the plane and descended the stairs into the heat radiating off the pavement. The humidity blasted us and we were immediately sweating. We hailed a cab and headed straight for our rental unit on Ali'i drive. We shared a meal and walked around soaking in the energy that was already as thick as the moisture in the tropical air. Being on Pacific time, we fell asleep pretty early that night.

On Wednesday morning, we headed to the pier for a swim at 7 am. It was already a sea of who's who gathered around the swim start. We chatted with a few friends and eventually jumped in the water to join the masses. Later that day the Skirt Chaser got checked in, and marked with the orange wrist band that would identify him as one of the chosen ones during our stay. We picked up the standup paddleboard which I had rented for the week, which was a whole other story... let's just say that after lugging the board for a mile back to the hotel, I had tendinitis in my arm that plagued me for 3 days, and I had to jump in the water and paddle back to the shack because I couldn't get the damn thing up the winding staircase at the condo. They ended up just keeping the board at the shack, much to their chagrin, and I stopped by daily to take it for a cruise. Lesson learned.

The week flew by quickly. On Thursday night we went to the Welcome Banquet at the host hotel. Half way through the main program, it started pouring down rain and we bailed. We were completely soaked by the time we got back to the hotel. I was slightly less than thrilled about this. On Friday, 4 of our friends joined us at the condo to be cheer squad/ support crew for my husband. We had an early dinner and a few beers, followed by an early bed time.

Race morning (and all week for that matter), the Skirt Chaser was completely calm. This helped keep me stay calm as I tend to feed off his anxiety. When he is trying to qualify for Kona, he becomes really reserved and quiet and I start to freak out; crying, nausea, full on panic mode. In Kona, he's his usual laid back, lighthearted self. When he's relaxed, I'm relaxed. We dropped him off at the transition area and secured a good spot on the rock wall overlooking the pier for the swim start. I stayed with him until just 15 minutes before the pro start and then kissed him goodbye and wished him luck. I said a silent prayer for his safety first, and a good race second. I wanted him to have the race he didn't get to have 2 years ago because of his crash.

The cannon went off at 7 am and the mass of bodies in the water started churning. If you've never seen an Ironman swim start, you really should. It is chaos. It is truly something to behold. We watched in awe and amazement as 1900 athletes slowly made their way away from the pier and funneled toward the first buoy. Shortly after their start, we saw the first of the professional athletes nearing the finish. We watched the first 40 or so come out of the water and then decided to hit the bike course to be ready to watch my husband when he came by. Just out the front door of our condo is the Kuakini Hwy where the first 12 miles or so are completed. We found some shade and watched as hundreds of cyclists flew by. He flew by the first time and pumped his fist in the air. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was feeling good. The swim didn't take too much out of him. As he went by the second time, heading out the the Queen K where a majority of the miles are completed, he blew me a kiss. Now, it was a waiting game.

Some of the crew went for drinks, some of us went back to the hotel and watched the race unfold online. We planned to be out on the run course to watch the first of the professional athletes come by. We stationed ourselves right around mile one. It was very exciting and a lot of fun to watch the early miles of the run. We got to see who looked good, and who looked beat up after the bike ride. Our favorite female athlete came off the bike somewhere around 24 minutes down, and nearly 16 minutes down on the girl who was considered the true leader. (The actual lead girl eventually dropped out, which I think they had anticipated. The second girl off the bike was second overall last year, and was considered the biggest threat). This made for a very exciting race!

We had a good time grading athletes on the "Fresh and Loose scale" (1. Fresh and loose/ 2. baby goose/ 3. drinking from well/ 4. giving it to yourself/ 5. fuck this shit). We watched the Skirt Chaser come by at mile one, this time stopping for a real kiss. We graded him as "fresh and loose" and I smacked him on the butt and told him to keep moving. We moved our cheering station to mile 9 so we could see the early pros come into the finish line, as well as monitor everyone heading out to the Queen K for the final 17 miles. We watched as the first male came by, led by the motorcycles, on his way to setting a new course record. And just as the Skirt Chaser (looking pretty good, but maybe slipping to "baby goose") came up the hill, the first place woman (definitely giving it to herself) was rounding the corner heading to the finish. It was so exciting and all very dramatic.

After a quick dinner, we headed to the finish line and watched as one athlete after another ran into the finish chute looking fresher and peppier than they had all day. Just past the 11 hour mark, my husband came down the road looking like he had left it all out on the course, definitely in stage 5, fuck this shit. He barely lifted his hand to high five me. As soon as he passed me, I sprinted around to the family area on the back side of the finish just in time to see him being hauled into the medical tent.

Our friends JB & DMB, and J & JA followed me around to the medical tent where I was quickly slipping from relaxed to freaking out. They immediately took over control of the situation from there. JB took the claim ticket and went through transition collecting my husband's bike and gear bags. Without a second thought, he walked everything through the crowds of spectators back to the hotel (not an easy feat). DMB and JA kept me company and once the Skirt Chaser realized that they were not going to be administering an IV, he got up and left the medical tent. Somehow he managed to get up and walk out of the tent, and then promptly collapsed onto the grass surrounding the post race area.

JA documented with video and photo as DMB and I helped him try to drink some coke. We took off his shoes and socks which is when we discovered that his right foot was severely bruised over his second, third and fourth metatarsal, and extremely swollen. He said that his foot began hurting when he started the run, but he thought it would go away. For 26.2 miles, he told himself that the pain would go away. We had to call JB and J to come back to the finish line to help carry him to the hotel. He had a hard time putting any pressure on his foot and was in agony. After about 45 minutes, and several stops along the way, we got him into bed, french fries in hand.

I was so grateful to have the help of our friends. JB went above and beyond the call of duty making sure that the Skirt Chaser had everything he needed, even running out to get ice for his foot at 9 pm that night. DMB supplied the french fries and chocolate shake to begin the recovery process. If I had been alone it would have been a very long night. As it was, my husband woke up at 10:30 pm and proclaimed that he was hungry, and he was going to go to the finish line to get food and watch the last hour. After having been carried back to the condo, I told him that under no circumstances was he walking down to the finish line. He had done enough damage to his foot during the marathon, it was stupid to keep walking on it. I told him if he was going, he was going solo as I would have no part of it. Reluctantly, he ate some leftover pizza and went back to bed.

To sum it up, I am extremely proud of my husband and his accomplishment. It was inspiring to watch him lay it all on the line, and push through the pain to reach the finish line. The first place woman ran from 24 minutes back to finish first, and she also gave everything she had on race day. Every person we saw swim, bike and run was fulfilling a dream. With the exception of a couple hundred racers, each person on the start line had dedicated hours upon hours first just to qualify for Kona, and then additional sacrifices were made to continue to train for Kona.

At the awards banquet I watched as men and women from the age of 20 up to the age of 81 accepted their prize for finishing top 5 in their respective age groups. I couldn't help but notice that until the age of 65, all the women were faster than me. And the athletes look amazing! I hope I can continue this sport for another 35 years because it seems to do wonders for the aging process. And as the world champion gave her acceptance speech, I choked back tears. There is nothing more inspiring than watching someone be passionate about something that they love.

Ironman does not intimidate me. After 7 Ironmans, I can do the distance in my sleep (and still fall in my 20 minute window). But Kona intimidates me. There is something different about this race. I don't know if its the starkness of the island. The black rock that just radiates the heat constantly. Or if it's the subtle island myths that permiate the energy. I never take home rocks or shells. I try to respect the island heritage and gods. If I ever am chosen to race in Kona I want to have the island on my side.

We love Kona, and we love this race. As we sit on the balcony appreciating the salty sea air we dread our flight home. Yes, it will be nice to get back to our cats, clean laundry, and fully stocked kitchen. We look forward to the next time that we get to come back here to challenge ourselves. To give ourselves to Queen K. To be part of the spirit of the Big Island.

Aloha.

Grand Canyon: Prologue

2011-10-05T17:59:00.000-07:00

I sit on the balcony of my hotel looking out over the Pacific Ocean. 72 hours ago, I was in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Needless to say it's been a busy week. I am not going to post my complete report of the Grand Canyon until I have time to process everything and do it justice. But I will say that it was an amazing, inspiring journey.

Hiking the Canyon, spending 2 nights at Phantom Ranch, and exploring some trails I've never taken before allowed me to experience the GC in a way that I missed out on when I ran it. I saw things along the way that I missed in my previous haste. The Canyon did not disappoint, and I was reminded of why I love it so much.

I took over 300 photos during our 3 day trip. I had the honor and pleasure of leading my mom on her first trip to the Grand Canyon. As we stood overlooking the South Rim on Friday, I knew that she had little idea of the adventure she was about to embark on. And she was up for it all. She hiked those trails for 10 hours a day with a smile on her face the whole time. She took her shoes off and iced her legs in the chilly Colorado River with me on Sunday. She didn't melt when it rained, she just relished the experience and allowed the drops to cool her off. Needless to say, I will join my mom on any challenge she decides to take on.

Now, surrounded by thousands of people, all in a hurry, I miss my quiet retreat on the trails. I enjoy the surf and the sand, and when I am out on my standup paddleboard alone in the ocean I have a similar solitude. As we approach race day, I am much calmer this time around. I have a good feeling and can't wait to watch my husband on Saturday, take on the race that he has trained for since we first started Ironman. This is his payday. Good luck, Baby. I am here for you every step of the 140.6 miles!

Running Into Pain

2011-09-25T13:06:00.000-07:00

Fast stuff hurts. Fast stuff hurts more than the long stuff. With long stuff, the pain creeps in slowly and you have time to adjust to the burn. With fast stuff, it hurts from the sound of the gun, and there is no break. Discussions of endurance sports always bring up the subject of suffering and/ or pain. How can you push yourself harder, faster? Do you even want to? A fair number of people race for the social aspect, or for fitness, or to achieve personal goals. I think I fall into the third category, racing for personal goals. In a long distance event, a marathon or Ironman, it's fairly easy to take off a chunk of time with lots of hard work in training. With a short distance event, a 5k or a sprint triathlon, it becomes more and more difficult to take time off. Sometimes even seconds are hard to gain. But willingness to hurt goes a long way toward reaching goals in any event, but particularly the short ones.

I have been thinking about pain a lot this weekend. A good friend of mine unexpectedly lost his 20 year old son, Brian, on Wednesday. He is suffering beyond what I can even comprehend. Today, Tom Meyerhoff raced his first triathlon, in Sally Meyerhoff Foundation gear. It's been only a few short months since his daughter was taken from him. He survives one day at a time. These losses will never be replaced. Tomorrow, another friend is taking her two year old daughter to undergo surgery to fix a birth defect in her spine. While I pray that the surgery will be successful, I know that my friend has suffered over the last several months waiting for this day to arrive.

I grew up going to church every week. And while I don't go regularly anymore, I do carry my faith with me wherever I go. (Actually I think I talk to God more while running than I ever did sitting in a church pew.) One of the most powerful sermons I ever heard during my years of attending church was about suffering. We all experience pain (emotional or physical). In this sermon, we were encouraged to offer up our suffering as a sacrifice, so that someone else might be spared. I think of this often when I have a migraine headache, or back when I had a running- related injury and felt the emotional trauma of being unable to run. I try to offer up a few words of prayer and ask that someone else be spared pain today while I am managing my headache.

Today, I raced Nathan's Sprint Triathlon. I decided I would go hard from the gun. My heart rate has never been so high for so long. I hurt. Every pedal stroke burned in my quads. By the time I got to the run, I felt like I was crawling. Not one person passed me on the bike. And only one person passed me on the run. Every time I thought about letting up, I thought about my friends who don't get the choice to let up on the pain. They just have to endure. And I kept pushing hard. All the way to the finish. Out of 181 women, I finished second.

When I train, Sally's motto (Be Relentlessly Positive) encircles my wrist on a little pink bracelet. Today, with a red wristband, I raced for Brian. I raced today for the experience that he doesn't get to have. I hurt today to take away even a moment of pain from my friend who is lost without him. I was strong today for my friend so that tomorrow when it counts, she will be strong too.

The Chase: Round 2

2011-09-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

So a couple of weeks ago I posted about being chased around the track by my husband... well today, I got a little bit of satisfaction in being chased again...

We were at the track for our usual Thursday morning workout. With my race this weekend, and my husband in taper for the big dance, we were taking it a little easy with an 800, a 1600, and an 800. When we started the 1600, the only people running on the track was our group. Halfway into my second lap, I hear footsteps gaining on me. Thinking I am one of three people on the track, I believe that Eddie is catching me. I believe that either I'm running pretty slowly, or Eddie has stepped up his game. I'm thinking, Right on! Go Eddie!

At the start of lap 3, I get passed. By a high school kid. Groan. It's not Eddie. I look around now, and notice that the ROTC group that usually is doing calisthenics is now running on the track. The kid continues to lay down the hammer and by the time he stops, he's put about 50 yards on me. I cruise by him and go into my 4th and final lap. When I pass him the next time, at the end of my 4th lap, he is leaning over the grass- vomiting? I start my recovery. The kid can barely stand. He's walking slowly back to where his group has collected. I hear him tell his buddy that he ran (presumably 800 m) as hard as he could, "all out".

Props to the kid for laying out a smokin' 800 meters. But, look at me!! Not only did I maintain a hard pace for 1600, but I'm still up and running... not hurling in the grass looking like death warmed over. Now way he could have kept up with me for that last lap. Tee hee. So after my big fear of being shown up by a teenager, it turns out this 30-something-year-old isn't half bad.

We finish up our track workout and then my husband announces that Usain Bolt better look out cause we're going to run some 100 m sprints. We set our watches and he yells GO! We take off! I am hauling ass down the track, feet barely touching the rubber. I finish... 0.5 seconds behind my husband. Who gives a flip that we would have to cut our time in half to actually come close to UB... I nearly kept up with my speedy better half! To his credit, he smoked me on the last 100, but my legs were toast by then. We decided we'd keep working on 100s cause you never know when the Olympic committee might need an alternate.

Get Off the Couch!

2011-09-21T11:53:00.000-07:00

I recently joined the UltraList... an email chain of like-minded people who are into this crazy sport of ultra marathoning. I mostly sit back and observe the list. People tell tales of recent races. Share training and racing tips. Seek advice. Being new to the list, and new to ultramarathons, I like to just listen and learn. (Though this is really hard sometimes, because as you know, I do have a lot of opinions.) This morning I opened an email titled "why I run". The author shared the story of a recent run in a wilderness area and his encounter with some elk, and very close encounter with a mountain lion who happened to be stalking the elk. His final words explained that at least now when someone asks why he runs, he will have a story to tell. Because 'things like this just don't happen on my couch.'

I loved his final point. We don't live life sitting on the couch. Life passes us by when we are idle. Television is a mindless activity. And yes, it can be entertaining, even educational at times. But I don't want to live vicariously through the actors on television. I want to create my own drama. When we are out in the world, exploring, investigating, following our passions- that's when we are living. That inspired me to share my favorite past time- trail running. I really fell in love with trail running a year ago when I signed up for the Aravaipa Running DRT (desert runner trail) Series. Having only ever run on one trail (I get lost very easily!) I used this series as a way to safely explore some other trails around the valley. The series took us to 5 different parks, once a month over the fall and winter, to tackle 16-20 miles on some serious trails. My average time for the series is longer than my marathon time. But I loved every second of it (and I only got lost twice)!

In the past 4 weeks I have run 143 miles. 77 of those miles have been on trails. That's pretty freakin' awesome. I love running, and even more, I love running trails. My weekends are scheduled around my 4:30 wake up call, 5 am departure, so I can be on the trails by 6 am. What I enjoy most about trail running is the solitude. There are no cars. The only sounds I hear are my foot falls, my breathing and the occasional scuttle of an animal in the brush. It's peaceful. I can push myself as hard as I want, or I can just relax and run easy and enjoy the day. And everyone on trails is in a good mood. Whenever I pass a mountain biker, hiker or another runner there is ALWAYS a greeting from both parties. Unlike when I run roads... and I get the "glare" after I offer up a cheerful "good morning". Yet, for some reason, I cannot not greet everyone I pass! You would think I could break this habit, but what can I say. I am a Midwest girl at heart.

The other great thing about running trails is the leg strength you develop. On the road, I can shuffle along and not pay any attention to where my feet are. Only on the rare occasion do I trip over an uneven bit of sidewalk. On the trails, I have to pay constant attention to where my feet are. I trip over everything if I slack off for even a moment. I am hurdling logs, side stepping stones and avoiding cactus (cacti?) all while keeping my eye on the trail for my biggest fear- snakes.

I've run trails in 3 different parks over the last month. Of the 3 parks, each set of trails is different and provides unique ways to challenge your body. The most recent run, Pass Mountain, I've run several times and always seem to block out how difficult it actually is. For the first 2 1/2-3 miles of the loop, you are running over very rocky terrain, huge boulders at times, and mostly uphill. Then you encounter a steep climb up the mountain on a rock face. The climb is very short, but slows me to a hike every time. Once you reach the peak, and have a chance to enjoy the view, you start the descent. I am terrified of heights, and this descent gets me every time. For a good 1- 1 1/2 miles, you are on a narrow sandy trail on the extreme edge of the mountain. Eventually you drop inward and have some fantastic downhill running, while still testing your ability to dodge rocks. With a 7.5 mile total, the loop is long enough to challenge, but not so long that it wipes you out. I might even attempt a second loop next time!

As our weather turns to fall and the mornings are more bearable, I look forward to more time on my favorite trails. Whatever your passion is, I encourage you to pursue it this season with your whole heart. Life doesn't happen on the couch. Get out there and live!

The Case Against the Off Season

2011-09-14T14:53:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else have this problem? You're training. Everything is rolling along smoothly. You've got the 4:30 am wake up call so ingrained in your brain that you don't even need to set the alarm anymore. You're efficient. Training gets done. You make it to work on time with coffee in hand. You're productive at work. You go home at the end of the day, make a fabulous meal to feed your family, and relax before bed at 7:30 pm. You nail all the events laid out in your plan for the season.

And then you take a recovery period.

You sleep in a little here and there. You have days completely off of training. (For those like me who find this difficult to comprehend.. it does actually happen to some people! You actually do nothing for an entire 24 hours outside of normal work/ eating/ sleeping.) You don't follow a schedule, but rather just do what you feel like doing. (Take a minute to absorb that...)

And suddenly, everything is out of whack.

You don't sleep well (because you've screwed up your body clock). You gain weight. You're lethargic at work due to lack of endorphins in your bloodstream and no amount of caffeine seems to help combat this. You are completely uninspired to cook, clean or even bother to watch whatever crap is on television in the hour before bed. You can't fall asleep without herbal sleepytime tea.

The remedy? Don't take an off season.

I've decided it's useless. I'm in a crappy mood. I don't get out of bed at 4:30 am, but then I lay there awake for 2 hours until I have to get ready for work. I bark orders around the house and am annoyed by every little thing. And then to top it all off, I'm supposed to start marathon training this week and I absolutely can't figure out how I'm going to squeeze everything in to my day (I'm supposed to run how far in the morning before work???) despite evidence from the last 5 years that I can, in fact, fit everything in, and feel amazingly better when I do!

So while I stare blankly at my training log as if it's written in Chinese, I can only sigh and remind myself that next week begins my fall season which is packed with completely amazing events every weekend through, well, February. I so look forward to this time of year and I know it will give me the motivation I need to kick it in gear. I've got sprint triathlons, trail races, half marathons, a 5k (which you ALL should be doing... http://www.run4sal.com/), a 10k birthday swim, a 60 mile walk for cancer research (Please donate!! www.the3day.org/goto/heatherp), a marathon, a 50k, and a trip across the Grand Canyon. Not in any specific order. One of the (many) joys of living in Arizona is that our year is backwards from everyone else. We start living in September so that by May we are ready to return to the hibernative caverns filled with a little necessity called: air conditioning.

So as summer turns to fall, my mind and my heart are ready to get back out there and see what I'm made of. This little break has gone on long enough (dang near 8 weeks!) Fall will be filled with flowing reports of fun, family, and a little dirt from the trails to keep you entertained.

Where were you when...

2011-09-10T20:13:00.000-07:00

... the World Trade Center fell?

On 9/11 2001 I was living in a little rental house in Ames, Iowa. It had wood floors and a small fireplace in the living room. My fiance (now ex-husband) was out of town on a job interview. I was doing relief work in Des Moines, and was not scheduled for work that day. My sister was studying abroad in Wales. My uncle, who was the highest ranking civilian in the Army Corp of Engineers at that time, had an office in the Pentagon. He was traveling on business that week. I was enjoying a lazy morning at home when I got the phone call.

Turn on the television. It was the only phrase that came out of his mouth. I watched in stunned silence as the acts of a "religious" terrorist organization attempted to destroy my country. I couldn't move. I couldn't eat. I was paralyzed. Many, many hours later he called again. Turn off the television, he urged, you need to step away from this for a while. My head hurt from crying and from staring at the television for hours on end. I couldn't process what was happening. Who would do this? My faith in humanity began to crumble.

The next morning I went for a walk through campus town. It was completely deserted. I wanted to buy a newspaper. Newsstands were empty. I had to search several streets before I found what I was looking for. There was no one out. No carefree students wandering around Mill Ave in search of the perfect cup of coffee. No one laughing. No one enjoying the beautiful fall day.

I came home with 3 papers. The Des Moines Register proclaimed that Bush Vows to Strike Back. The Iowa State Daily headline ran Terror Hits Home. The Tribune had a photo of the firefighters raising the American flag over the wreckage. America Endures. It became our focus. Enduring. We banded together as a country and vowed to pick ourselves up and move on. We grew stronger. We went back to our roots to evaluate our values and what is important. We reached out to family and friends. Wounds began to heal.

On the eve of the 10 year anniversary, I review the papers I picked up on September 12, 2001.

Things changed in America on 9/11, 2011. We were challenged to remember our heritage and what we stood for. We were challenged to define our loyalty to the United States of America, and remember the freedoms that we fight for. I fear that as time has gone on, we have forgotten the tragedy of that September morning. Every evening on the news, someone new is complaining about security measures at the airport. Someone is complaining about the money and time being spent to secure our borders.

I have not forgotten. I will not forget and I will not take for granted the freedoms that I have because I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am lucky because my great, great grandparents immigrated here along with the masses through Ellis Island. They were brave and sought a better life at a time when our country was new and thousands came from Europe. Because of them, my great grandparents, my grandparents, and my parents were born on US soil. I was born and raised in the Midwest.

And in order to protect my freedoms, if I need to stand in an xray scanner to travel on an airplane, so be it. You will never hear me complain. If you need me to remove my shoes, or my coat, or take the liquids out of my bag; you will never hear me complain. If we need to close the border, if we need to crack down on illegal immigration, if we want to question those without a US passport, so be it. This is my country. This is our country. Are you going to stand up for it? Or will you let the deaths of everyone on 9/11 be in vain? Will you complain that your freedoms are violated and yet cry when the next time around, it is someone that you love who is lost?

I don't mean to get political. OK, who am I kidding, of course I do. I just feel very passionately about my country and protecting it. Without passion, and patriotism, we would not have moved on and moved forward.

My heart is heavy remembering the events of September 11, 2001. The loss of life. The tragedy. The unspeakable violence. But this is America. We are strong. We are one nation under God. Indivisible. With liberty and justice for all.

Being Chased

2011-09-08T14:05:00.000-07:00

Track workouts are the epitome of yin and yang in a runner's world. I love them and I hate them. They yield so much benefit and hurt tremendously more than any other workout of the week. I haven't done a track workout since early June. With a couple of weeks off for taper, two back to back races, and then a nice off season for recovery, it's been a long time off the track.

With marathon season imminently upon me, I started back to the track 3 weeks ago. As expected I am slower than I was last spring. But I'm still farther ahead of where I began several years ago. It used to be my goal to hold 3:40 for my 800 repeats. Last spring I was holding 3:05. The last few weeks, I've been hanging out at 3:15. Until... the chase.

So after my 3 mile warm up, I knock out my first 800 meter repeat in 3:18. As I'm finishing up, the junior ROTC comes out to the field for a little calisthenics. They do a few pull ups. They run a few laps. They do some push ups. Run a few more laps. When they run, all 12 or 15 of them are in a block formation taking up the first 4 lanes of the track. So as I sped by them I hit lane 6 and then cut back in on the curves.

Fast forward to my second repeat. The group of teens has just gone by as I'm in my starting block. I hit my watch and take off. I cruise by them in lane 6 and within a few steps I hear this ragged breathing behind me. There's ruckus in the group (they are teens, when is there not?). I think that one of the boys has jumped in behind me trying to keep up and show off for his friends. Being the competitive person that I am, there's no way I'm letting him around me.

300 meters in my shadow backs off a hair. I am sucking wind like no other trying to stay ahead of him. I can't shake him. I continue to hear the footsteps just behind me accompanied by the runner's gasp for air. I continue to fly, picking up my feet as fast as I can.

600 meters in, my shadow passes me. It is my husband. I nearly scream out loud. I was killing myself trying to stay ahead of someone who naturally runs 800s about 45 seconds faster than me. I back off the pace just a hair and my limbs go all numb and tingly with the blood suddenly not rushing so quickly. I hit the 800 meter mark and stop my watch. 3:04. I scream out loud. I curse. My lungs hurt. My airways burn. My limbs are like jello. Your breathing was all ragged! I didn't think it was you! I yell at my husband. He laughs. Blames it on that being his first interval of the day. Teases me and continues to run laps around me.

I start my recovery interval and I spend my 400 meters thinking how awesome I am and how great it feels (great as in painfully amazing) to still be able to lay down a 3:04. Oh yeah! Two fingers in the air and then smack on my hip to put out the flames Tsssss cause I am on FIRE! And if the group of teens hadn't been there and it was just me and my running partners, I probably would have attempted to throw down a cartwheel on the infield. Probably good that I didn't cause that would increase my likelihood for injury.

My next 800 is my slowest (go figure) as my limbs still don't know quite how to function. But I finish up the workout, 5 x 800 all within a 3 second range not including the chase. So it was a successful day and I know I've still got it in me. I just need someone chasing me to pull it out!

Under the Stars

2011-09-04T13:07:00.000-07:00

A little insight into a very complicated mind. I hope you enjoy the ride.

I'm a thinker. A contemplater. A philosopher. Recently there have been a few changes in the dynamics of some relationships that have left me feeling a little out of sorts. Being the type of person that I am, I asked myself, "why am I responding to this situation in this way?" And then I start to look at my personality for clues. Well, I value friendships and honesty. I get my feelings hurt easily, despite my tough exterior. And more often than not, when looking closely at who I am, two things stare me in the face. My birth order and astrological sign.

In many ways these are similar. Both present ideas that are a little out there. I mean, really, how could where you are born in your family really affect your personality? *Smirk* And astrology? You're thinking, OK, now I know she's smoking crack. Where can I get some? (I often use this phrase and then I wonder, do you really smoke crack? Isn't it usually snorted? Or injected or something?) Anyway, I digress. Having never done drugs in my lifetime, I'll leave the details to someone else.

But in many ways, these two thought patterns are very different. Astrology is based on the stars and planets. Not only do you have a "sign", but you are also born under a specific planet, and depending on the year and the day you are born it will affect you differently. Blah, blah, blah. Birth order, on the other hand, is written about by psychologists. Trained medical professionals. Clearly there's been at least some research, some truth to this. Right? Whatever. I don't take it all too seriously, but it is rather fun to think about. And I often feel like the person writing the book has actually followed me around for the past 34 years documenting my traits like a secret science experiment.

For example, according to my astrological sign (Sagittarius) my good traits include optimism (I'll touch on this more later), spontaneity, honesty, warmth, inquiring mind, humanitarian. And I just so happen to have luck on my side. My negative traits? You better sit down for this. Hot headed. Self indulgent. Quick to judge. Excessively blunt. Impatient. Manipulative. Like I'm staring in a fucking mirror, isn't it?

As children, Sagittarians tend to be happy and playful. They expect to be loved by everyone. They act on impulse and never sit still. (What can I say? Some people never grow up.) As a female Sagittarius, I am quick tempered, can laugh at myself easily, am kind hearted, painfully tactless and I tend to preach. Again, I feel like they could have written this book and put my name on the front cover. Look up Sagittarius in the dictionary and you just might see my picture.

As an employee, Sagittarians tend to work fast and furious. They have the ability to naturally boost morale. They rarely complain. I don't know about that not complaining bit... does commiserating with co-workers count as complaining? I don't complain about my job, just about frustrations dealing with situations pertaining to my job. But, I am extremely efficient. I work well under pressure and thrived when I worked in an emergency facility. And I have the uncanny ability to work with anyone. The one person on the staff that no one gets along with? Yep, I've got them in my back pocket. The client that makes the other veterinarian cry? Wrapped around my little finger.

On the other hand, I am (you guessed it!) the middle child. The most interesting thing about the middle child is that they are toughest to pin down in terms of predictable birth order traits. There are certain characteristic that are expected of first born, only children, and the baby of the family. The middle child, while owning certain traits, has a wider range of unpredictability. Things you can expect from a middle child? They tend to be closed books. They do not often confide in people and are more secretive, mysterious. On the other hand, they tend to be very outgoing and are usually the first ones to leave the family to find friends, and most likely one to move across the country away from the family (or in my situation, move across the country 3 times).

This reminds me of a story from my childhood. I grew up in a neighborhood where everyone's back yards faced the park that lived in the middle. It was an enormous playground and I spent a lot of time there. My younger sister and I had games that we invented along with the usual "tag" and hide-n-seek. We had a basketball court and no one minded that I changed the rules to suit my whim (also known as: lack of talent). We built snow forts and sledded down the hills in the winter time. Anyway, once I met a girl at the playground and went home with her because she was my new friend. I must have been ready to start first grade. The girl told me her name was Alison (turns out it was Jennifer, but she like Alison better). Alison's mom made me call my mom and tell her where I was. Try that one on for size. Your 5 year old calls and tells you she's at her new friend's house, whom you've never heard of or met? Anyway, things were different in the late 70s/ early 80s and I'm sure that wasn't the only heart attack I ever gave my mom. (Sad, but nowadays, my stepdaughter is not allowed to play outside alone for fear of abduction.)

Many people are familiar with the term "middle child syndrome" whereby the middle child displays feelings of being left out or ignored. There are never any photos of the middle child in the baby books. They aren't overindulged like the oldest or youngest tend to be. They are just kind of lost. In the middle. (Couldn't resist the pun.) The interesting thing about this, though, is that I also read that the middle child has the capability of reversing the roles in the family. According to psychologists (at least the one I read...), each child is influenced by the children ahead of them in the family. So the middle child is influenced by the oldest child and tends to be the opposite of that child. However, if the middle child senses that she can compete with the oldest sibling, and do so successfully, she may cause a reversal of roles resulting in the middle child taking on more prestige, privilege, and responsibility.

The middle child has a broader range of traits which manifest differently in each person depending on the influence of the older sibling. A middle child may be a loner or very outgoing. She may be impatient or laid back. Competitive or easy going. A rebel or a peacemaker. Aggressive and scrappy or try to avoid conflict. But one thing that the professionals seemed to agree on is that middle children tend to make very well adjusted adults. They are independent and mentally tough. They know how to negotiate and compromise. They are diplomatic and willing to take risks. They are realistic and unspoiled.

At work, a middle child is a team player, reliable and loyal. In relationships, middle children need a little room to share feelings (again: not an open book). They can be sensitive, and if they don't express themselves feelings may bubble over into anger. They are considered faithful marriage partners and are highly loyal, sticking to their commitments. However, middle children can be manipulative as they've had to learn how to get what they want. They can also seem stubborn and bull headed. (Who, me?)

On the athletic front, I think both aspects of my personality have contributed to my success. I have an endless supply of energy and I can't sit still. I'm competitive and willing to take a risk. I'm stubborn, mentally tough, and don't mind being alone inside my own head for hours on end (a good trait when it comes to endurance sports!).

When I look at the list of traits for both my birth order and my astrological sign, I resemble quite a few of them. Most in fact. But there were a few interesting ideas that stood out to me that prompted a little deeper thought.

First, in my family (I am the middle of 3 girls, very close in age) I am the favorite. I love telling people this because they expect the middle child to feel slighted and display symptoms of "middle child syndrome". I've speculated a lot on why I was the favorite despite being the most challenging of the 3 of us to parent. I think in some ways I demanded attention within my family. The Sagittarius in me combined with the middle child need to be opposite of my sister resulted in an adventurous, spirited individual who is not afraid to speak her mind. Those kind of people are tough to ignore.

I've also thought, at different points in my life, that maybe I was a little closer to my parents than my sisters because I actually provided them with parenting challenges. These challenges were opportunities for my parents to talk to me, to teach me, to love me, to discipline me. I am thankful that they took their parenting roles seriously and didn't shy away from honest, open conversation. It could have been a lot different if they had chosen to "ignore" me or were too embarrassed or busy to address issues. Parenting is not easy, but they did a great job.

And in reality, my parents don't love me any more than they love my sisters. I just like to tease everyone a bit... though my sisters have both admitted that I am, in fact, the favorite. OK, no really, I'm moving on. (Mom and dad, if you're reading, feel free to confirm or deny the above statements.)

The other thing that stood out to me is that contrary to my Sagittarius heritage, I am not what most would consider optimistic. I like to think of myself as having a more realistic outlook, not necessarily pessimistic. I think we are all a product of our experiences, and at times I don't have a lot of faith in society or people in general. My husband views this as being pessimistic. I see it as having a realistic view of humanity, and therefore lower expectations. I don't often see a reason to give someone the benefit of the doubt. I don't like to be disappointed. However in my personal relationships, I'm often the opposite which is why it's very easy for me to get my feelings hurt. I set up an expectation and when it's not met I'm disappointed. No one's fault but my own.

Which brings me back to the point of the blog to begin with. When I ask myself, why am I responding to this situation in this manner? The answer is that I had an expectation, but my expectation was based on a scenario that I created in my head (rather than having actually communicated). I then expected someone else to live up to that expectation which wasn't fair. Having realized this, I can now move on, happily! Phew!

Have you ever researched your sign or birth order? Do you resemble them? I had fun "researching" for this blog. Most of it I had read before but it always gives me a good laugh. I think it's important to understand yourself. And better yet, to like yourself. Thankfully, there's no one I'd rather spend time with. (Though my husband does compliment me well, and is great company! I'll have to research his sign next....)

My Bad-Ass Family

2011-08-30T15:36:00.000-07:00

So I got a phone call from my mom today. I was at work, so it went to voicemail. She left me a message telling me that she had hiked the highest peak in Colorado yesterday and she couldn't wait to tell me about her adventure. She and my dad are vacationing in Vail and my uncle, who is an experienced mountaineer, is visiting them and took my mom for a hike. She gave me the name of the mountain, "Mt. Elbert," and even spelled it for me.

Now, I know my mom is a tough cookie, but I will be honest, I was a little skeptical. (Did I mention my mom is 63?) So I pulled up a website on Colorado's 14ers. Sure enough, Mt. Elbert is listed as the highest peak. So I shot off a quick text message telling her she was bad-ass and I'd call her as soon as I got a break. I also posted on Facebook that my mom hiked her bad-ass self up a 14er in Colorado, honey badger style, to which I got numerous replies affirming that, in fact, my mom is bad-ass.

But that's not the end of the story. On her way back down the mountain, the weather was a little sketch and she mis-placed her hiking poles onto a rock instead of solidly on the ground. She slipped and landed bruising her shoulder and gashing her forehead on said rock. Honey badger style, she jumps back up and continues her hike down the mountain. She was convinced she was fine and she'd just wash her wounds back at the condo, but at the urging of her brother, she went to the emergency room and had 6 stitches and a tetanus shot. Nice job, Mom!

(And for anyone who is not yet familiar with the honey badger... well get with the program!! Check out the most hilarious video you may ever watch... you need volume though, because without narration, well, it's just missing a little something extra: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg)

And you've already read about the multiple adventures of lil sis. Tackling the Rocky Mountain Double Marathon just cuz someone dangled the "belt buckle" in front of her nose, and rocking Ironman on no training. 3 times. I'm still waiting to find her kryptonite.

And big sis, training for her marathons whilst raising 3 rambunctious kids. Getting ready for the San Antonio Marathon in November, with the possibility of a (gulp) Boston Qualifier?!!?

But there's someone I've not yet mentioned. The original family bad-ass. My dad. Dad was the original adventurer. In his day there was no triathlon. (OK, maybe it had just been invented but hadn't gone mainstream yet.) So he played racquetball. And then he took up race walking. He walked a marathon and an ultramarathon before I even thought of taking my first stride running. He has more bicycles in his garage than I do. He's biked across Austria, and down Haleakala. And when I was in college he took up roller blading. He came to visit me and we went out around campus and I couldn't keep up. (Very reminiscent of when I was little and we'd go for a walk around the neighborhood after dinner. I would have to run to keep up with Dad walking.)

So I guess what I'm saying is, bad-assness runs in my family. You should no longer be shocked at some of the crazy ideas that pop into my head. In reality? My mother made me do it. I'm proud to be from hardy stock with an adventurous spirit. In fact, a month from now, 31 days to be exact, my uncle and I will be leading my mom on her first Grand Canyon expedition. North Rim to South Rim via North Kaibab and Bright Angel Trails. Yes, that's right, my mom is going R2R. (In whiny teenage voice:) My mom is sooo much cooler than yours.

What goes around...

2011-08-23T15:27:00.000-07:00

Call it what you wish. Karma. The Golden Rule. Eye for an Eye. Paying it forward. Our society believes that if you do something good for someone, you will reap the benefit somewhere down the road, if not immediately.

Every once in a while I feel called to do something good. Something bigger than myself. Something that might actually make a difference. This year, I felt compelled to take on the challenge of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, a 60 mile walk over the course of 3 days. During this event I will be on my feet, walking, roughly 7 hours per day. Some people will be out there walking much longer than me, and a few will be finished each day before I do. But some people can't walk. And that's why I am.

Somewhere in the world, a woman dies from breast cancer every 69 seconds.

When I signed up for The 3-Day, I thought I knew 2 people close to me who survived breast cancer (my aunt and my good friend Jackie). Once I started to think about it, I began to add names to the list which is now nearing several dozen people. A scary thought. A month ago I began an online friendship (as a friend of a friend, she found me on Facebook) with a woman who is in her last few rounds of chemotherapy. This week she completed #19 out of 20 treatments. Last weekend I found out a long time family friend, who survived breast cancer many years ago, is now beginning treatment again in the opposite breast. I can't help but think, who's next?

Breast cancer is the most frequently diagnosed cancer and is the leading cause of death among women worldwide.
The Susan G. Komen Foundation requires each participant to raise $2300 in order to walk in the 3-Day event. My team needs to have the money raised by October 10. I have been very fortunate, and with the help of my very generous family and friends, am finished raising my $2300. My two team mates have a long way to go. We will raise the money. And we will walk. You can help.

More than 1.4 million women are diagnosed with breast cancer globally each year.
You can make a tax deductible donation to The 3-Day at: www.the3day.org/goto/heatherp Just follow the link to my mate's page (Heather) and click Donate! It's that easy. I know the economy is shit right now. We are all feeling it. But every little bit helps. I would challenge you to give big, as big as you can. But don't not give because you think it's too little.

Walkers average 585 miles in training for The 3-Day. During the event, we walk 60 miles over 3 days.
I am excited to share this opportunity with you. I look forward to documenting my journey through the 3-Day which will take place November 11-13. I expect it will be a very emotional, rewarding experience. If you or someone you know has been affected by breast cancer let me know. I would love to walk in honor of all our friends, sisters, mothers, aunts.

For more information, please check out http://www.komen.org/, or http://www.the3day.org/.

Positive Reinforcement

2011-08-15T12:37:00.000-07:00

It's always nice to look back and think, What was I so worried about? Yes, I was undertrained. But Flagstaff is such a great location to host an event, and the Mountain Man Triathlon has always been good to me, and this year was no different.

The morning was chill, very relaxed.  We got our gear laid out in transition and caught up with some friends. My stomach was a mess (more on this later..) and I was not looking forward to what I thought was going to be a race from porta-potty to porta-potty.

Finally, it was go time and we headed down the ramp to the swim start.  My husband was off in wave #1 and I jumped in to get a quick warm up. Before long it was my turn to go, the gun went off and I hauled ass toward the first buoy. I felt fantastic during the swim.  I executed well and stayed on course without adding a lot of extra yardage. I exited the water second female which I was thrilled with. Having swum 2 minutes slower than last year, my overall was quite a bit lower (13th swimmer). And my ongoing swim rivalry with my husband? He beat me out of the water by 9 seconds!! (Though I think he probably just ran up the ramp to the timing mat faster than me...)

Recapping the race over lunch, I postulated two reasons why I tend to swim well at elevation. (And I am saying this because I consistently place well in the swim at Deuces Wild and Mountain Man every year, and I always hear people complain about swimming at elevation.) One reason, I don't kick. I never do in any event in which I am wearing a wetsuit. My body position is such that if I kick it throws me off balance and I end up looking like a big mess and not swimming well at all. Being a non-kicker I have a lower need for oxygen than a strong kicker. Those big leg muscles are just sucking up the O's in that thin air. Second, I always go anaerobic for the first 200-500 meters of a swim, no matter what event I'm in, to try to get out ahead of the pack. So, even though in this instance the burning and numbness in my arms is due to lack of oxygen from being at 7000 ft, my brain perceives it as normal because this is how I always feel at the beginning of the swim. As I shared this with my husband he looked at me like I had grown a second head. He said he never goes anaerobic in any swim.

Though most people complain about the elevation during the swim, it begins to take its toll on me when I hop on my bike. Suddenly my legs are burning and I am sucking wind like a 70 year old chain smoker. On top of that, because Mountain Man is such a small event (only 133 finishers total in the half IM) once I am out on the road, I'm pretty much alone for the rest of the day. There's a short out and back section 20 miles in where you see bikers returning on the other side, but that's the only time I see anyone. I don't mind being alone, but it's easy to forget that you're racing and suddenly I find myself tooling along on a nice Sunday ride, enjoying the scenery. I didn't do a very good job with nutrition/ hydration on the bike because my stomach was a mess. I felt bloated and the one time I tried to take a bite of something I immediately had stomach pains. I managed to take in less than 20 ounces of fluid for the entire ride and maybe 100-150 calories. That said, I did bike only 2 minutes slower than last year despite being vastly undertrained for this event.

Out of T2, I ran pretty steadily. I always look forward to the climb at 1 mile in which switchbacks up a short climb. There's always a lot of carnage on the hill and I like to see how many people I can chase down before the top. Once we come off the hill, it's a quick 4 miles down Lake Mary Rd to the turn around and then 5 miles back to the finish. I felt like I was running low on energy but with my stomach feeling like crap I was afraid to take in anything. Finally at about 7 miles in I took a gel. Within a couple of minutes I could feel the energy returning to my legs and I felt great again. Since my stomach didn't feel any worse after taking the gel, I continued to take two more through the last 5 miles. With a mile to go, some friends pulled up alongside me in their car and leaned out the window to cheer for me. It was nice to have a little bit of support and it gave me the boost I needed to pick it up for the last mile. I finished 5:45 and change, only 6 minutes slower than last year, and I had a great time!

Now, back to the stomach issue: after two weeks of eating clean on the Racing Weight meal plan, we had pizza for dinner on Saturday night. This has always been our pre-race meal so I didn't think twice about it. But waking up on Sunday morning I felt awful. My stomach felt bloated and sick. I thought for sure I would be vomiting during the race. It was a good reminder that not only am I losing a few pounds, I'm also doing something that's important for my overall health. My body has gotten used to whole grains, and lean meats. I loaded it full of cheese and processed white crust and it rebelled. So now, when I look at the things I am "missing out on", I don't really feel regret. I feel proud and happy that I'm making positive changes for my health.

I am down another 1 1/2 pounds this week, for a total of 3 1/2 pounds in 2 weeks. Two more weeks on the official program and then I'll begin to incorporate what I've learned into my normal routine. I'll choose better, more useful carbohydrates and lean proteins. I'm kind of excited to see what effect the change will have on my performance, aside from just being lighter.

Carb Crash

2011-08-12T14:40:00.000-07:00

There's one thing I wasn't quite prepared for in this moderate protein diet I've undertaken.... the inevitable carb crash. One day I'm fine, happy, running well and enjoying life (See Tuesday's post). The next day I pick a fight with my husband about the point of life (not in the religious sense but in the why the hell do we bother sort of way), barely make it through a 20 mile ride (averaging 16 mph for gosh sakes), and completely drag through my day.

During said bike ride (my slowest in years) my cycling buddy asks me if I've eaten breakfast cause it looks like I'm having a carb crash. At this point I confess that I've committed to this crazy eating plan in which I've given up all things which might provide me an ounce of enjoyment in my day and am thinking of bringing home a bottle of euthanasia solution after work. After the laughter subsides (ya, some friend eh?) he tells me not to worry because suicidal tendencies are normal when carb depleted.

And in defense of the meal plan it's not really carb restricted, I'm just beginning to think that I may have underestimated my caloric needs for the day and went a little too low on the calorie intake. Whoops. I have, on more than one occasion, had to go to bed early (as in 7:30 instead of 8) because if I stayed awake another minute I was going to raid the cereal cabinet. Hmm. Don't think I'm supposed to be going to bed hungry.

And to top it off I'm supposed to be racing this weekend. Ya, brilliant me signed up for a half ironman triathlon. And neglected to see the fact that I had no training on my schedule between May 31 and, well, now. So I am going into this very under prepared. A few months back when I clicked "send" on the registration form I thought it sounded like fun. Now... not so much. It is going to be a torture fest. OK, I guess that does sound a little like fun. But last year I did sooooo well at this race! And this year I'm going to be sucking it up!!!

Anyhoo, stepping off my platform and back to reality, it will be a fun weekend. I've always had a weird relationship with this race. The first year I raced it I raced on pure anger and hatred. It was 3 days after my husband's surgery and I was mad mad mad at the world. Anger, as it turns out, is a powerful motivator. (See: http://runnerchick-skirtgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/mountain-man-race-report.html ). I completely smashed myself and surprised myself with a decent performance. Last year it was such a perfect day. Everything went according to plan and was the smoothest race I've probably ever had. (See: http://runnerchick-skirtgirl.blogspot.com/2010/08/mountain-man-triathlon.html). I was motivated by faith in my training and my fitness level. This year? I think I will be motivated by fear! Fear of failure. Fear of being beaten. Fear of looking like a fool and coming in 30 minutes slower than last year which is entirely possible. But fear can be a good motivator too so I'm interested to see how we work together on Sunday.

Glimpse

2011-08-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

This morning was one of those rare summer days that offer a glimmer of hope that it won't remain 110 degrees forever. I was out of bed with my usual 4:30 am wake up call. All through my poolside yoga class I kept glancing at the sky waiting for the blistering sun to make its appearance. But it never did! I was never more thrilled to put my running shoes on after class and hit the canal for a quick 5 miler. The sky remained pseudo-overcast with a dense clouds packed together just so. Not in the sense of impending storm, but just as if the big puffy clouds blowing east ran into the horizon and caused a traffic jam with each other. And the temperature was at least 10 degrees cooler than normal by 6:30 am. As a result, I ran fast! I was drenched by the time I got back to the gym, but not sweat pouring off my body in large pools as is the norm. Just nice, glistening, sticky sweat. I averaged about 30 seconds faster per mile than I have in the last 60 days since the weather turned really miserable.

I look forward to the days when it cools down overnight and I can run happy and free before the sunrise. Maybe even in a tank top! (I got the feeling today that I offended some people on the canal as I was running in shorts and a sports bra... maybe they should worry less about their religious beliefs and more about me not dying in the heat...) I've really gotten used to the Valley of the Sun. I don't love it like I do my hometown, but I appreciate what it has to offer 7 months out of the year. Days like today remind me that soon the weather that everyone thinks we have will be back. Only another 60 days or so to suffer through...

Week One Done

2011-08-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

Racing Weight Quick Start Program week one is finished. It's been an interesting but overall successful week. For 4 days I followed the program pretty much to the letter. I followed the meal plan and prepared my meals as directed. There was one day that I discovered I was hungry in the evening after an early dinner and ended up eating a PB &J, which is in his list of lunch options. And occasionally I omitted the fruit with or after dinner (though in my defense, I felt like I was eating enough fruit).

Once the weekend hit, I found it a bit more challenging to be exact about the meal plan. For starters, my Friday morning consisted of a 3+ hour workout which necessitates a little flexibility in the fueling aspect. Friday night we also had plans to eat dinner out to celebrate back-to-school. Thankfully we went to a Mediterranean restaurant (Pita Jungle) that allowed me to choose a healthy option of salad with seared Ahi. If you've never had the seared yellowfin honey sesame salad you must try it. To. Die. For.

Life also got in the way on Saturday morning and I ended up leaving the house with no food/ drinks (very long story... sigh). After my 2 hour workout I was starving. Knowing I wasn't going to be home for several more hours I decided to have lunch with my training partner at another Mediterranean restaurant (Pita Di Vita). This time it was salad with grilled shrimp, though I did end up eating 2 pitas and some hummus which was probably more carbs than I needed. And Saturday evening we opted to eat leftovers since we had a fridge full. I pulled out all the meat, beans, and veggies that had accumulated over the week and threw them over a bed of romaine. It was delicious.

Despite a few obstacles I did go one entire week with a) no soda b) no Taco Bell (did I forget to mention this addiction before?) c) no pizza (practically a miracle in itself) and d) no sweets (cookies, candy, donuts, etc). I realize that it is hard to believe, but yes, I do have an obsession with TB. When I was young, my sister (who was very skinny and picky about food) loved Taco Bell. She wouldn't eat at McDonald's, Burger King, or any of the usual fast food options. So when we ate fast food, TB it was. And I think I got addicted. It's almost like an eating disorder though because I try to hide my habit. Only the people I work with actually know how often I eat TB. And I can't remember the last time I didn't eat pizza at least twice in a week.

After 7 days, I am alive, I didn't starve, and I'm down 2 lbs on the scale. I feel better. Cleaner, if that makes any sense. Week 2, I am looking forward to pizza on Saturday night (pre-race meal!!) and sushi lunch with a friend on Friday. Otherwise I'm staying on target!

For Love of the Game

2011-08-04T13:43:00.000-07:00

Somehow my husband and I got into a discussion on passion last night, and it's role (if any) in sport. He was browsing through my latest issue of Ultrarunning Magazine and remarked that he had no desire to ever run 100 miles. That's OK, I told him, if you don't enjoy something then don't do it! This led into discussion on the place of passion or enjoyment in sport. Specifically, amateur sport where we are not being paid to swim, bike or run.

My husband postulated that passion is not important in sport. He went on to explain that he would never tell anyone not to do something just because they didn't enjoy it. He feels that some (most?) people have other reasons for participating in sport, maybe overcoming addiction or having a positive outlet for stress, or whatever. And though we've never specifically discussed his reasons for competing in triathlon, I don't believe that he finds it "fun". As a competitive and driven person, he has played sports his entire life and has been exceptionally gifted at everything he's attempted.... until triathlon. And I think that's what motivates him to continue. He is a gifted runner, but not a gifted cyclist or swimmer. He has worked very hard to achieve the success that he has in the sport and I believe that he sees a lot of room for continued improvement. Thus he is able to continue pushing himself despite maybe not truly loving every moment.

I am a bit of a polar opposite. If something doesn't interest me, I want no part of it. I can't even feign interest. I'm an all or nothing girl. If I love something, I jump in with both feet and am usually in way over my head before I remember to take a breath. And I love running. And swimming. And the freedom I find on my bicycle. In triathlon, I might push myself to reach personal goals, and I've definitely found a competitive gene. But ultimately, if I'm not having fun, I won't be involved. And I actually have (just very recently in fact) told someone that they shouldn't sign up for a marathon in 5 months. This person had never run before. Not even a step. And she asked if she could be ready for a marathon in January. Why would you want to do that?, I balked. You don't even know if you like running!! I encouraged her to start running and maybe (MAYBE) try the half marathon (even that's a stretch if you ask me). But to set herself up for success she needs to have a base before beginning a marathon program. Why not give it a year? Find out if she even likes running, build a little base, and then give it a go.

One of my favorite movies, I think, sums it up best. The movie Center Stage is about a group of dancers in the NY Ballet Company. Throughout the movie you see the difference between the two main characters; one with impeccable technique who lacks a true love for dance, and one with so much passion that you can't take your eyes off of her despite her lacking technique. At one point the instructor tells the former, "I want to see the movement, not the effort behind it." She had all the talent in the world, but without passion she was no fun to watch.

People might look at my husband and envy his talent, or the fact that he's qualified for Kona twice. They might strive to work hard like he does and give their all. But I want to be the one that inspires other people to give running or triathlon a try because they look at me and see my passion and love for the sport. They want what I have. I dare you to find a picture of me training or racing where I don't have a huge grin on my face. I'm sure there's one out there. Good luck finding it.

Yes, I have bad days. I have close calls on my bike in traffic that make me angry or result in tears. I have days when I can't seem to get into a rhythm while running. There are plenty of times when I feel like I'm swimming through mud. But even on my bad days, I still find enjoyment in what I'm doing. The sunrise over the mountains on my morning bike ride. The wind in my face. The joy of the trails under my feet. Feeling strong and beautiful as I stare at my sculpted legs in downward dog during yoga class. The controlled breathing and feeling of weightlessness in the pool. It all makes me appreciate what I have and who I am.

So, what do you think? Do you do what you do because you love it? Or is there something else that drives you?

Four Letter Word

2011-08-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

I started a "diet" yesterday. Thought I'd get that out in the open so we can get the eye-rolling over with. Don't worry I haven't suddenly developed a warped sense of body image. I'm not fat. I was reluctant to write about this because so many women do struggle with low self esteem and poor body image. And no matter how much I reassure you that I was born with a magical gene that allows me to believe in my awesomeness, there will be some of you that think Tsk, tsk. That poor girl and her struggle with body image. How sad. To those people I would say that every morning when I wake up, I look in the mirror, smile back at myself and tell myself how awesome I am. It's true. And I would suggest you try the same. (Give it 2 weeks and you'll be amazed at how much better you feel about yourself and your outlook on life.) However, this is not about weight loss. This is about reaching my ideal weight for race performance, which means reducing (a little bit of) unnecessary fat while maintaining muscle mass.

Like many people my weight has fluctuated over the years. Throughout high school I was 130-135 lbs. Very average for my 5'7 frame. I looked good. I felt great. I was not the typical teenager that struggled with self esteem. I was active and healthy. Once I hit college, I did gain the freshman 15 (probably more like 10 lbs) but worked to get back down to a comfortable weight my sophomore year by working out at the rec center on a consistent basis. No change to my diet. Just exercise a couple times a week.

Once I hit graduate school and I was sitting on my ass for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, my weight ballooned. When I graduated 4 years later I was at an all time high of 160 lbs. I was miserable. My clothes didn't fit right. I was not healthy. Not active. After seeing a picture of myself from a trip to Hawaii that year, I decided it was time to change. I moved to California for my first job. I was working a million hours a week and in my spare time (insert laugh here) I worked out at the gym I had joined. I started by doing a 45 minute walking program I had taken out of Shape Magazine. Keeping the same pace, I would incrementally increase the incline setting on the treadmill so that by the time I reached a 12% grade it was all I could do to hang on for the prescribed amount of time. I also worked with a trainer to learn some weight lifting techniques. Within 6 months I had lost 30 lbs. Soon enough my contract was over and I was able to move back to the Midwest. I had time to cook for myself and having progressed over the year, began running instead of walking.

Fast forward 8 years. I've now been running consistently for 6 years. I've improved my performance with each race I've run. I'm focused now on the big time. Qualifying for the Boston Marathon. I hire a personal trainer, this time to whip me into my fastest, most efficient shape ever. I whittle from 140 lbs, 18% body fat to 136 lbs, 15% body fat. I am lean and mean. I have abs for the first time ever. I am stronger than ever. I look good and feel amazing.

That was 3 years ago. Since then I've kept and improved my strength, but I've added a few pounds of fat. My body seems very comfortable in the 138-140 range. It's easy to maintain without worrying about how much I'm eating. My diet is 90% healthy, 10% can't control my sugar intake. In the last 6 months I've had an extra 3 lbs creep onto my frame. I'm very healthy, still falling well within the normal range for my height and build at 143 lbs. But I know that as I move forward with my goals for this year I want to be at a weight (specifically lean muscle weight) where I am my fastest. I want to PR in my races! That involves being able to drop unnecessary fat, maintain muscle and strength. So, how am I going to do this, you wonder?

Racing Weight: Quick Start Guide by Matt Fitzgerald. This program is written for endurance athletes by a certified sports nutritionist. It's a program that is focused on temporarily reducing calorie intake (a mere 300 calorie deficit per day) over 4 weeks while increasing protein intake to 30% of calorie intake. It's balanced with a training program that focuses on higher intensity workouts and strength training. There is an entire chapter focused on how to calculate what your "racing weight" is and what your calorie intake should be. Based on the body composition where I was at my best performance-wise and my current starting weight/ composition, I calculated that my goal weight should be 136-138 lbs. Specifically I want to lose 5 lbs of fat.

The most challenging part of this program for me is giving up sugar. I am a carboholic and eat sweets all day long. Donuts at work for breakfast. Cookies after lunch. M&Ms after dinner. (I feel so much better having confessed this fact). For the next 4 weeks, I will try to diligently follow the meal plans laid out by Matt Fitzgerald. If I am successful, I will gain more than just weight loss. I will have gained control over my out-of-control sugar habits. Even if there is no change in the scale, I will consider this experiment a success if I can kick the sugar habits that have held me captive for the last 18 months. I want to follow the healthy diet that everyone believes that I follow. I want to be able to enjoy dessert, not be slave to bags of processed sugar that really does nothing to satisfy my sweet tooth.

So, wish me luck. I'll keep you posted on how things are going over the next few weeks. I'm excited to get started. A little nervous (do I have the willpower to say NO to the donuts??). But mostly ready. The timing is right. I'm coming off my recovery period of the year. It's months before I have to start focused training again. I'm not going to be obsessive about blogging every bit of morsel that enters my mouth. But I know a lot of people are either struggling with their own weight loss or like me, want to be in peak endurance shape. So if I have a revelation that I think is useful, I'll share.

In the meantime don't forget to tell yourself how awesome you are today!

Anticipation

2011-07-26T12:42:00.000-07:00

Today I packed my gym bag for a series of mini-workouts before work. Plan was yoga poolside at 5:30 am, core exercises for 30 minutes and then an easy shake out swim. I found that as I laced up my running shoes to head upstairs for core, I got that giddy excited feeling of anticipation and nervousness like a teenager before her first sexual encounter. I wanted to go for a run! But would I be good at it? Would I like it? It's all so new again!

I purposely made a commitment to take 2 weeks off running after the 50 miler to allow my body time to recover and heal. It was such a wonderful feeling to know that at least my mind is ready to get running again! After an hour of yoga and 25 minutes of core, I was reminded of the kind of trauma I inflicted upon myself 10 days ago. But I know that on Sunday when I lace up my trail shoes, I will not be disappointed.

One week later...

2011-07-25T14:00:00.000-07:00

And all I can think about it the TRT Ultramarathon. And going back to do it again. I was sore until about Wednesday. Really bad the first 48 hours. I couldn't step up or down off a curb without assistance. I couldn't walk normally. I'm sure I looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame hobbling around South Lake Tahoe. By Tuesday I was walking normally as long as there were no stairs involved.

After arriving back home on Tuesday, I had to work 4 days straight. That meant being on my feet all day long. In combination with a few short easy workouts (of the swim and spin variety) to shake out my legs, I was exhausted. My feet ached all day long and by the time I arrived home in the evening, I pretty much fell asleep the instant my ass hit the sofa.

Saturday was a half day and having a nap in the afternoon went a long ways toward relieving my feet of their perpetual ache. Sunday I hiked Camelback with a friend and aside from a little soreness on the descent I felt great. And still do.

I'm going to continue my easy swim/ spin routine until this weekend when I will attempt my first run back after 2 weeks off. I'm taking a couple of friends to hit an easy trail, introduce them to my favorite pastime. I'm excited thinking about next year and what I will do differently. I even had a brief moment where I considered running a local 100k so that I could qualify for the 100 miler for 2012. And then I remembered how I felt at 30 miles in, and 50 miles in and I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet. There's crazy. And then there's just plain fucking insane.

Tahoe Rim Trail Ultra: 50 miles of Heaven and Hell

2011-07-21T10:41:00.000-07:00

I've thought a lot about how I want to write this piece and what it is I want to convey in doing so. My experience this past weekend is very individual. Ask any of the 121 people who finished the 50 mile run and we all have a different story, a different perspective. In no way am I trying to compete with anyone's experience, but I hope to be able to express what an amazing experience this was for me and what I have gained by participating in the 2011 Tahoe Rim Trail 50 Mile Endurance Run. I will preface this by saying that my overall pace was 18.3 minutes per mile. (The winning man went 10.3 minutes per mile.) So when I use the term "run" you can assume I mean power hike, walk, or run depending on if I am going uphill or down. I'm going to skip my usual pre-race synopsis and just go for the goods. I will point out that I was thankful to have flown in early enough to participate in packet pickup and the pre-race meeting on Friday afternoon. I also had a chance to hike a couple of different segments of the course on Thursday and Friday with my sister and her boyfriend (WM) to familiarize ourselves with the course markings. I was excited/ nervous/ terrified about tackling this distance on such a difficult course. But I believe in making leaps of faith. So here goes...

Spooner Lake at dawn was completely still. The surface of the water like a sheet of glass reflected the trees on the opposing shore cut only by a layer of fine, early morning mist. The air was crisp and cool. Fresh. Runners gathered around the tents and did final race preparations and just before 6 am we were called to the starting line. With little fanfare, we were off. The first steps of a long journey. A journey that began long before this day, with a dream and a goal, and a glimmer of hope that I could survive what I was about to embark on.

Spooner Lake at dawn.

The first mile is a wide open dirt road which undulates gently and winds towards the trail head. The 146 runners worked to space themselves appropriately within the crowd. By the time we hit the Marlette Trail we were running single file, switchbacking up the mountain. The trail was wonderful. Packed dirt, few obstacles. Perfect. I stopped several times to take pictures and appreciate the views. Soon I began a descent toward Marlette Lake which we circled on the trail. Words cannot even express how beautiful it was in the early morning. I had the hugest grin on my face the whole time. It was more amazing than I could have even imagined. I arrived at the first check point Hobart Aid Station (AS) at around 7:30 am, 6 miles in.

Marlette Lake

From Hobart to Tunnel Creek I was still feeling good and smiling a lot. This section of the trail was probably my most favorite (though I think I will probably say that again about other segments). I traversed several large snow fields. After one snow field in particular I round the corner of the mountain and am stunned with a panoramic view of the lake. I run through meadows of wildflowers feeling like I am in the Sound of Music. After the meadows, I enter the woods again and run down switchbacks, through large fields of boulders as we approach Tunnel Creek at 11 miles. I ran into TC smiling at 8:50 am.

Self portrait in the snow fields.

Marlette Lake (foreground) and Lake Tahoe.

The next segment of trail is called the Red House Loop. It was probably the most interesting portion of the trail. I ran down a very steep, tough descent. Once I reached the bottom it was like running through a rain forest (without the heat and humidity). The vegetation was thick. There were several water crossings which I initially tried to cross without soaking my feet. Once I realized that this was going to be impossible, I had a lot more fun. There were only about 3 crossings that were ankle deep. The rest I was able to skip over on the rocks. I was surprised that the water didn't really bother my feet and my Cascadia's seemed to dry pretty quickly. There was one climb in the middle of the loop and then after passing Red House, there was one final climb, up the very steep grade that we had descended earlier. Just before heading up this climb, I passed a 50k participant who was struggling. I reminded him that he had only to climb out and then he was on his way back to the finish line. He looked very young and I admired him for attempting such a grueling course.

Water crossing in Red House Loop.

The climb out!

On the climb out of the Red House Loop I felt nervous for the first time since starting the race. Suddenly I was feeling like Oh my God this is tough. My thoughts never turned negative. Just a little reality check for what was to come. My sister informed me that the Red House Loop is what gives the TRT Ultra the "taste of Hell" part of their motto. This was a bit of a relief since I knew I'd be hiking up a black diamond ski slope later in the day. Couldn't be worse than this, right?

I arrived back at Tunnel Creek AS and found a few boiled, salted potatoes to munch on. I sat down and changed out of my soaking wet socks into a dry pair. I applied a little moleskin to my pinkie toe as I could feel a hot spot. I tried to assess my sister's status (she had started an hour earlier than me, entered in the 100 mile run) but the volunteer told me that their computer system didn't allow them to search. She remembered her brightly colored socks though and knew she had passed by. As I started out on the trail away from Tunnel Creek, I ran into my sister within about a hundred yards. She was heading back to TC, crying. She explained that she had made it a mile or so and was feeling dizzy. Rather than try to make it the 12 miles to Diamond Peak, she decided to return to TC and drop out. I convinced her to walk with me a little and try taking in some salt. Soon she was feeling better and we kept going. We paused at Bull Wheel AS to fill our water and indulge in a little shot of beer that the volunteer offered. It was the best beer I've ever drank. It numbed my legs enough and gave me a little carb boost. Off we went to finish the last 9 miles to Diamond Peak where her crew would be waiting.

The 9 miles to Diamond Peak were the toughest mentally for me. I had a suspicion that my sister was planning on dropping out. I purposely didn't talk about it until we were within a half mile of the AS as I didn't want us to make any decisions until we had to. Also, I know how things can go downhill once the thoughts turn negative and I tried to avoid that as best as possible. Looking back, I wished I had tried some positive reinforcement as we both wish that she would have continued to 50 along with me. We power hiked and ran through the woods north of Lake Tahoe. Turning lakeward with 4 miles to go, we finally reached the downhill and cruised. At this point my right ankle hurt like hell and my left plantar fascia was screaming. Having heard only horror stories about plantar fascitis and what a bitch it is to get rid of, I was contemplating dropping out as well.

View of Lake Tahoe from the top.

Still smiling! It's all downhill from here.

We ran out of the woods onto the road that leads to the Diamond Peak Lodge. WM was there to meet us and I grabbed his phone to call my husband. I think I'm done, I told him. He asked what was wrong. I told him of my foot/ ankle and overall pain and fatigue. The phone cut out, and while waiting for a return call I checked into the AS. I mentioned to the volunteer that I was hurting and thinking of dropping but I told him I'd let him know for sure. I stepped on the scale (which wasn't required of 50 milers, but I was curious how I was doing with salt and hydration). My weight was 142 lbs. which scared me a little because this is my normal morning weight and I would have expected to have lost a couple of pounds by this point. Now I'm worried that I'm taking too much salt and retaining water. My sister had pointed out my swollen fingers....

The aid station volunteer sent over a bucket of ice to soak my foot. My husband called back and told me to stretch out my calf. He reminded me that ultimately, no one cared about this except me, but that I would be disappointed if I quit. He told me to think about it and call him back. I ate a few Oreos and drank some Pepsi. Without even really thinking I changed my socks and shoes, emptied my pack of solid food (opting instead for gels and gummy orange slices which are much easier to eat when you can't breathe), picked up my gear and started walking. I called over my shoulder asking WM to call my husband back and tell him I'm still going. I left the DP AS with 1 1/2 hours to spare before my cutoff.

It was 2 miles and 2500 ft of elevation gain from DP back to Bull Wheel. The first part of the climb is switchbacks up a service road. I got lulled into thinking that this was it. (I am not a skier, so even though I knew I would be hiking a black diamond, I didn't really know what this meant.) Soon enough I turned a corner and stared at the longest, steepest, most desolate climb I'd ever laid eyes on. The Crystal Ridge ski run. I didn't stop. I continued to put one foot in front of the other, though my stride length was dramatically shortened. There were a couple of false summits which allowed me to turn around and appreciate the views and how far I'd come. During the actual summit itself I couldn't turn around for fear of falling off the mountain. An hour after leaving DP AS, I reached the top. As I summited, medical personnel were loading a competitor into a helicopter to be removed from the mountain. I thought to myself, what exactly has to happen to warrant spending $40k on a heli-lift off of the top? I wished whoever it was quick return to health and continued on my way back to TC.

View from the summit!

Helicopter taking off from the top of Crystal Ridge.

                             Tahoe Rim Trail marker, and TRT Ultra course flags.

I don't remember a lot about the 3 miles back to Tunnel Creek, other than I was feeling dizzy and thought I maybe should sit down rather than risk falling off the cliff as the trail narrowed. I was weak and dejected when I approached the AS and dropped into a chair, hanging my head. Immediately, a volunteer was in front of me asking how I was doing and recommended that I speak to the doctor for a moment, just to make sure everything was OK. They ushered me into the medic tent and began taking my vitals. I was relieved to see that I had dropped 2 lbs over the last 2 hours (I was not taking too much sodium!). My blood pressure was fine at about 120/80. My pulse was 91, and my oxygen saturation 98. They questioned me as to my preparation for the race, and what other endurance events I had participated in. They listened to my heart and lungs and questioned my symptoms. They questioned my urination since the start of the race (I had gone only twice in about 10 hours).  I was looking for anything, any reason whatsoever, to beg for a ride back to Spooner. (TC is the only place other than DP that it's even possible to drop out, the rest of the AS are too remote.) The doctor reassured me that I was merely dehydrated and hypoglycemic. He encouraged me to sit a few minutes and take in some food before continuing. They gave me more soda and refilled my hydration pack. Never once did he offer a ride off the mountain. It was as if quitting were not even an option since I was physically fine.

Leaving Tunnel Creek for the final time, I knew I would be finishing. I set my watch to beep at me every 15 minutes as a reminder to eat and drink. (Why didn't I do this earlier???) The volunteers at TC sent a set of mountain bikers to shadow me for a couple of miles to make sure I was OK. I can't tell you how much this makes me want to cry when I think about it now. It was the most selfless, generous act but they pretended like it was nothing. One biker cruised ahead about 2 1/2 miles and waited at the top of the switchbacks for me, while the other one stayed right behind me. Having her there made me feel like I wasn't alone. Like if I collapsed on the trail, I wouldn't be left for dead. Every 15 minutes I ate a sugared gummy orange slice and drank water. Soon I was feeling better and the energy returned. My shadow stopped to help another woman who was struggling on the trail and I continued on. As I passed the second mountain biker, I assured him that I was feeling much better and thanked him for keeping an eye on me.

I was feeling significantly better, but maybe not as great as I imagined. Before I knew it, I was hallucinating. I saw a fat man in a white T-shirt standing outside his cabin. Funny, I thought, I don't remember there being a cabin along this part of the trail. I thought he was barbecuing. Until I got closer to him and realized that he wasn't there. Neither was his cabin. As I approached the snow fields for the final time, I was joined by two ladies from South Africa and Germany. Stick with us, they said, we are shuffling! So I stayed with them until we got to Hobart AS. It was so nice to have company! They were cheerful and positive. We struggled through the snow which had melted a little during the day and had become very slick.  At one point we had to sit down and slide down a 12 foot snow drift (which was fun other than my ice-burned hands!).

Back at Hobart, I smiled for the first time in a long time. A young girl handed me a poker chip that said "Hobart 2011" and "Good Luck". I smiled and told her I was going to make it. I grabbed some soda and boiled potatoes and continued on my way. It was roughly 3 miles to the last check point at Snow Valley Peak, the highest point of the course and also the "Glimpse of Heaven" in the race motto. I enjoyed the first couple of miles through the woods, but soon I was dumped out into an open meadow, complete with more snow fields and brutal winds. The views were gorgeous, but I couldn't help but think, when will I get there?? The boy scouts who man the SVP AS place signs out lining the last mile of the course. I was so not appreciating their efforts as I wondered how many more signs I would have to read before I made it to the top.

Sunset over Lake Tahoe.

Another snow field!

A glimpse of Heaven. Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe.

I reached the SVP AS and was shivering. I sat near the heater while the volunteer filled my hydration pack and I got my windbreaker on. I ate some chicken noodle soup, regrouped with the ladies I had been with up until Hobart and we started out on the descent. I didn't know it at the time, but I left SVP with only 30 minutes to spare on the cutoff. The first two miles became more of a hike as the vegetation stood waist-high and we had trouble navigating around the boulders on the trail. I knew it was all down hill from SVP so I was feeling a little sorry for myself that we weren't able to run. But eventually we dropped out of the meadow into the woods for a lovely downhill run. With 5 miles to go, I spotted WM who had trekked backwards from the finish to run with me. I was never so happy to see a familiar face.

He was the model safety runner and picture of encouragement as he told me how good my pace looked and how well I was doing. All lies, I was sure! I talked to him about things I had gone through on the trail, wanting to drop out at TC, hallucinating, the beauty of the trails in the morning light, the water crossings, and the endless uphills. He talked to me about my sister, and his two hour run that he did after returning her to the hotel. It was then that my husband had suggested that he trace backwards and find me. We ran together, enjoying the trail. This was his first trail run and being a trail lover myself, I hoped that he loved it too. I kept apologizing for walking every time there was a even a slight incline but he insisted he didn't mind. The sun was setting and we worked hard to get to Spooner Summit before we needed the headlamp. WM passed his headlamp onto the gal from South Africa as she (expecting to be done before dark) was without one. We paused at SS to fish mine out of my pack and then continued on at a slightly slower pace.

I must have passed at least a half dozen people in those last 1.7 miles. I could hear the music at the finish and see the lights. I knew I was going to be able to stop running soon, but it took forever for that finish line to appear. I ran through the finish, and much like the start of the day, there was little fanfare. I hugged WM and thanked him for running with me. I hugged my sister and accepted the bouquet of flowers she presented me with. And then we hobbled off to find the car and some warm clothes.

Looking back on the day I am a little in awe of my accomplishment. I struggled to find my way over a very long day (15 hours and 16 minutes). Since my first (and only) 50k was 5:25, I thought for sure I'd be finishing around 13 hours or maybe less. I didn't respect the altitude and what it would do to my ability to breathe. I didn't respect the elevation change, the relentless ups and downs that waited for me as I traveled through the mountains. Now, I know what it takes and I know I can do it. Faster? Maybe, but who really cares? The point is I set a goal, I got to spend an entire day on the most beautiful course doing what I love- challenging my body and my mind. I want to go back to Lake Tahoe and the TRT Ultramarathon. I want to experience the trails again, and see what else they might teach me. My husband and one of my best friends asked me why I would want to do it again. Why not pick a different course? See something new. Try something easier for a faster time. It's difficult to explain. I could only say that if you knew how I feel, you would understand. It's a passion, a calling. A friend of mine once said that there are mountain people and there are ocean people. I love the ocean, but it doesn't speak to me the way that the mountains do. I can only answer the calling, the whisper in the trees, the sun shining over the lake, and know that I am home.

To Panic or Not to Panic

2011-07-12T15:54:00.000-07:00

OK, trying not to panic here. I can do this. I can totally do this. It was more than a year ago when I decided I wanted to do the Tahoe Rim Trail Ultra. I had researched ultramarathons to pick out one that suited my needs. I wanted something scenic. Challenging. Memorable. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get all that I wanted and more.

I waited patiently last year as July came and went. Like the type-A athlete that I am, I checked the website daily, watching for registration to open. Ironman registration opens 12 hours after the last finisher crosses the finish line. Surely, ultramarathons are the same, right? Nope. Finally someone clued me in and I joined the Tahoe Rim Trail Ultra fan page on FB where registration updates showed January 1 as opening day.

I had already waited forever to sign up for this target event... now I had to wait 6 more months! At this point I had not run further than 26.2 miles. I'm not sure why I felt compelled to try this 50 miler. At 8000 ft of elevation. In the mountains. But I was and so when January 1 rolled around I got on the computer, filled out the application form and clicked send. It was official.

I trained on trails through the winter and in February I ran my first 50k. I experienced a whole new level of pain afterwards when I came to a stop and all the blood pooled in my legs turning them into cement blocks. Cement blocks that felt like they were being stabbed and simultaneously ripped apart by a vicious and hungry bear. I had a very faint glimpse of how bad (good?) 50 miles could feel. The day after the 50k as I boarded my flight to Hawaii my body had that satisfying ache, a feeling of accomplishment.

The months have dragged on and sped by, all at the same time. And now it is a mere 86 hours until the start of my first 50 mile run. I feel prepared and yet so undertrained. I am excited to start but anxiously freaking out. I have packed and re-packed and re-re-packed my bags. I have brought every possible outfit I might feel like running in. I have 3 pairs of trail shoes even though I can only wear one pair. I have more nutrition than a small tribe in Africa. I have packed clothes for heat, rain, snow, and all manner of weather conditions save a hurricane. My sister and I, who normally talk on the phone 2-3 times per week, are now chatting 2-3 times per day as we work out details for crew, safety runners, course maps, mandatory meetings, drop bags, and on and on and on.

It is here. The Tahoe Rim Trail Ultra is staring me in the face. As I stare back, I imagine what Saturday will be like. The highs and lows emotionally. The ups and downs along the curve of the mountains. The lake and the forest. The trails. I try to block out the unknowns. Will my stomach go sour? Will I get blisters? What if I twist my ankle? I focus on seeing myself making relentless forward progress. One step at a time. Over the course of the day. I will see this dream through to fruition. I close my eyes. And just breathe. Taking in the scent of pine and crisp air fresh with snow.

I am strong. I am prepared. I am ready.

New Vision

2011-07-07T13:42:00.000-07:00

The weeks following a big event are always a little awkward. Normally one uses the week or so after Ironman to rest, recover and decide on a plan to move forward. I typically have my next event picked out prior to IM as a way to avoid the post-race blues, that feeling of uselessness and restlessness that occur when there is nothing to look forward to anymore. I thought I wanted to take 6 months and train for a fast marathon. Technically I qualified for Boston at Big Sur, but my husband and I had already decided that we are not going to do any major trips in 2012 as we need to pay off all the trips we are taking in 2011 and save some money. But, knowing that I want to go back to Boston, we thought of trying to qualify for 2013 by running fast at PF Chang's in January.

Part of having a double X chromosome is that I have the ability to change my mind at will. I don't need a reason or an explanation. I just can. And often do. Where my heart leads me today is different than the journey it will take me on a year from now. I just have to follow my heart and know that it's not going to let me down.

Over the last few weeks I've listened to a lot of people talk about their goals, desires and needs. It seems that everyone is going in a different direction whether it's ultramarathoning, mountain biking, or even... starting a family. As amateur enthusiasts we have to listen to our bodies and our hearts and follow where the wind blows us. We are not getting paid for this, so we better be doing something that we enjoy. (And by 'we', I mean 'I'.)

What I realized over the last couple of weeks is that I can't follow what everyone else is doing out of fear of being left behind or forgotten. I certainly am not about to take up mountain biking (hello, death wish?). And I am not really feeling any ounce of maternal instinct or biological clock (though I keep checking just to be sure... I'm not big on surprises) so it's probably not a good idea for me to start procreating. I better just be me.

After giving some serious thought to my next couple of seasons I've come up with a slightly modified plan from my original thought. In the next 10 months I have committed to: hiking the Grand Canyon with my mom in October, the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in November, 2 half marathons, a 5k in December, Oceanside 70.3 in April, and St. George IM in May. Other than that, I plan to throw in the Aravaipa trail running series, PF Chang's marathon, Pemberton 50k, and anything else that catches my eye along the way. I realized that if I were to seriously train for my fastest possible marathon I would need to give up some of my "cross-training" activities and focus solely on running, strength, and yoga for 6 months. That means that likely I would not have an ideal race at Oceanside or St. George because I would lose much of my cycling and swimming base that I've worked to build.

There's been much debate on this subject but I've looked at it from every angle, and knowing my work schedule (hey, gotta pay the bills, right?), my required sleep schedule, add in strength and yoga... there is absolutely no way I could successfully train for my fastest marathon ever if I continue biking and swimming regularly. I'm not saying I couldn't hop in the pool for an occasional lap... but it wouldn't be penciled into my training plan. I know some people could do it all and still run a 3:20. Me? Not so much. I need to focus on speed work, tempo runs, long runs, hill runs, and still have enough days left over to do nothing so my body actually recovers. Not happening if I have to squeeze 2-3 workouts into my day before 7 am.

So, without further ado, here are my new goals for the next few seasons:
1. Have fun!
2. Focus on cycling this summer/ early fall and really build a strong base.
3. Do more trail running and continue to build strength specific for running.
4. Continue to swim 1-2 times per week until it's time to build for IM again in January.
5. Yoga! Strength train! 2 times per week for both. Having just been released from rehab... I need to stay on top of this so I don't have to go back!!
6. Run a 3:29 at PF Chang's in January. This will qualify me for Boston with a 10 minute buffer so that hopefully I can make it into the registration for 2013. It is also a reasonable enough time goal that I won't have to sacrifice my bike/ swim training in order to achieve this goal.
7. PR at Pemberton!
8. Smash Oceanside! Absolutely kill it. Not only will I run 1:45, but I will slaughter the bike course as well.
9. Smash St. George!
10. Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim in the GC 3 weeks later...
11. Then, and only then, after having achieved my goals and fulfilled my commitment to Ironman St. George, will I return my focus to the marathon. I will choose a race that I am passionate about. I will choose a race whose conditions suit me. I will train and give my absolute all to running the fastest, best marathon of my life... maybe 3:19? maybe faster? Only time will tell.

Until then, I've got to get back to Ironman training...

Ironman Coeur d'Alene

2011-06-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

Sunday I finished my 7th Ironman. I love the town of Coeur d'Alene and it is truly my favorite of the IM events I've participated in. The crowd support is amazing. The course offers some challenges and tests your mettle as you work through the day. It is everything that I love about Ironman. Ironman always provides a chance to learn something about yourself and IM CDA 2011 was no exception.

Leading up to Sunday, I had to throw all my expectations out the window. And I'm glad that I did. I was able to enjoy my surroundings and be in the moment while I pushed my body to it's limits. I wore my usual Timex wrist watch, but I set my bike computer to show me only mileage, never time or pace, and I left my Garmin in my T2 bag. And you know what? I kicked ass.

The morning started with a 4:30 am wake up call. We got our stuff together and hooked a ride with some friends down to the transition area. After pumping the tires (...and oiling the chain... No, I'm just kidding. But have you seen the video on you tube?) and loading up our water bottles onto our bikes we headed down to the beach to watch the pros take off. Once they were moving we got our wetsuits on and lined up with the other 2300 age group athletes on the beach. I was freaking out. I wanted to take the outside right line. Even if it meant I had to swim an extra 500 meters, I knew I'd feel more comfortable. But, just like in Canada, I let my well-meaning husband talk me into staying front and center. (Last time I ignore a gut instinct. No for real this time. I mean it!)

The cannon goes off and I am literally shoved into the water and then drowned. Or at least that's what it felt like. After 10 minutes of "swimming" with my head above the water, getting punched, getting scratched, getting clobbered I finally said enough, and turned to swim to the outside of the pack. Finally. Some free space. From there the swim was relatively uneventful. I heard from several people after the race that they had problems with leaky goggles and we surmised that possibly it was due to the cold water that we all suffered the same issue. I must have stopped at least 10 times to try to reseal my goggles. I would be swimming along happily, and then with no warning I would feel my goggles unseal from my face. This has never happened to me before. They were not new goggles. They were not old, worn out goggles. There was no reason that they should have given me problems. A friend remarked that her goggles were more like sunglasses in the lake which I thought was a very fitting description. And funny too! (She's pretty clever...) Se la vie. I was out of the water in 1:08:58 (my slowest swim ever!) and ready to move on with my day. Looking back now, it's sort of comical because as slow as my swim was, I was still the 350th age grouper out of the water. (I consider that good!)

I ran/ walked to the wetsuit peelers and just stood there. I hadn't realized how cold I was until I got out of the water. My face and feet were numb. I couldn't say anything. I just stood there and let them help me out of my wetsuit. As the volunteer helped me up, he asked if I wanted to go to the warming tent. He may have recognized my slight incoherence and frozen brain. I quickly snapped to and dashed down the line of T1 bags and into the change tent where once again I just had to let the volunteer guide me as I could not verbalize thoughts. Finally, as I finished collecting my gear for the bike I regained enough sense to thank her and headed out to collect E'ly from the bike racks. As I ran with my bike to the mount line I saw my husband running out beside me. I yelled to him and wished him continued luck.

Though the bike is my "weakness" I was still looking forward to this ride because I love the CDA bike course. It's perfect. Heading out onto the course it is flat and fast for the first 20-25 miles. I did not set a specific time goal for the bike course but I was hoping for maybe around 6:15-6:20. I biked 6:35 (give or take) at Canada last year so I knew at the very least I could be close to that. I decided not to look at my watch until the 56 mile mark. I would just keep everything in check and try to ride "one gear easier" for the entire first loop. (One piece of advise I got from an experienced pro prior to my first IM race was to bike one gear easier that what you think you can ride for the first 70-80 miles. After that, if you want to pick it up then do so.) Having driven the course on Friday, I knew exactly where the hills would start. I knew where the tight turns were. And I knew I was going to hammer the descents. I laugh at my more inexperienced self from 2008- when I actually braked on some of these descents. Man, I had some learning to do! Thankfully, Mt. Lemmon has made me more confident on the down hills and I embraced every one of them on Sunday. As people were coasting the descents, I maintained my effort and continued to push through every aspect of the course.

Entering into the second loop I was still feeling good. Fatigued, yes, in a normal manner of fatigue. But I was having an enjoyable bike ride through the gorgeous Idaho countryside. I couldn't wait to get back to the hills, knowing that once I was through the second set of hills I was home free. The wind picked up a little bit in the second half. And combined with the fatigue in my legs, I think my second half was a little bit slower than the first half. But I hopped off my bike in 6:24:10 and handed E'ly off to a volunteer waiting with open arms to receive her. (Did I mention how awesome the volunteers in CDA were??)

I ran through transition and into the change tent for round two. This time I was very coherent and moving much quicker. I was excited to get out onto the run course. I had already decided not to wear my Garmin in the run, and to just run how I felt it. I was glad that I did and have no regrets over not making my time goal. In my first 5 IM events I struggled with nutrition. I experienced every manner of bloating, nausea, constipation, etc during the run. Last year at Canada I changed my nutrition plan on the bike which helped tremendously. I was able to run consistently during the marathon, but was starving the whole 26 miles! I experienced this again in CDA, but to a greater degree. During the first 13 miles I was able go from aid station to aid station taking in cola, water and a little bit of broth. At about mile 14 I totally crashed. I got very weak and a little bit dizzy. The sun was out and I was worried that I was going to pass out in the heat. I walked to mile 15 where I took in cola, water, broth and 2 chocolate chip cookies. Within minutes I could feel myself rebounding. I resumed running and finished strong.

It was fun to see my friends out on the run course. Unfortunately, my husband (who has been off and on with an illness for the last 6 weeks) pulled out of the race at mile 12 of the marathon. He battled severe congestion, headache, dizziness and vomiting for 2.4 miles in the swim, 112 miles on the bike, and 12 miles of the run. When he neared the turn around on the run he made the smart decision to not continue, knowing that he has Kona in 14 weeks. CDA was going to be a good training day for him, and it still was, just not the one he wanted. It was really hard to keep going after I stopped to talk with him at mile 12. He was laying on the curb waiting for me to come by. I knew he was OK, and I knew he would not want me to quit. But knowing that I had 2 1/2 hours left at that point was really really hard. I was ready to be done!

Looking back at the results, my 4th leg (miles 20-26) was the same pace as my 2nd leg (miles 7-13). I was very pleased with this. I know that with a little more work, I will figure out this nutrition thing and one day I will nail it. But having been on both sides of the fence, I am much happier being on the light side of nutrition than on the bloated, over fed side. I can come back from a bonk. And I was very happy to be able to run the entire marathon aside from the couple of times between miles 13-20 when I had to walk or risk keeling over. I ran all the hills. I walked most of the aid stations. I walked with a friend for a few minutes when he was experiencing a down moment in his race. And when I turned the corner onto Sherman Avenue for the 7 blocks to the finish line I was beaming ear to ear. My marathon was a 4:49:04, and my overall finish time was 12:33:22.

I was received at the finish line by a volunteer who handed me off to my husband, waiting to put the finisher's medal around my neck. He escorted me to the food tent and propped my feet up on a chair while he collected some pizza and cookies for me. He patiently waited while I got a massage and then helped me collect my bags and bike and hobble back to the car. There is nothing better than the feeling of tired that consumes your body after an Ironman. He drove me back to the hotel for a shower and then to DQ for a chocolate shake and a cheeseburger. Amazing how good that tastes after a very long day on your feet! After slurping the last bit of ice cream I feel into a restless, achy sleep.

The lessons I learned from Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2011?
1. Always trust my instinct. (ie: line up outside for the swim)
2. When things don't go as planned, it doesn't mean it's time to call uncle. In other words, no matter what you are feeling during the race.. it will pass. I could have resigned myself to walking from mile 14 onward, instead I addressed my needs and got back into the game.
3. Ironman is a long day! You have to respect your body, respect your competitors, and appreciate the volunteers. Having a negative attitude gets you nowhere. Enjoy the process!

Back to Reality

2011-06-24T16:13:00.000-07:00

After arriving in the beautiful state of Idaho yesterday afternoon we stopped by to zip through athlete check in and retrieve our bikes from Tri Bike Transport. After biking to the hotel we checked in and got settled before heading out to dinner. It was an early night as we had grand aspirations of hitting the water at 7 am to check out race time conditions. As we wandered around athlete village it struck me how windy it was, and chillier than I had expected.

After a restless nights sleep we crawled out of bed and headed down to the lake. The wind slapped us in the face as we looked out over Lake Coeur d'Alene. We suited up in our wetsuits and made our way down to the beach. In an effort to simulate race day we took off running into the water and dove in. No dipping the feet. No getting used to it. We took the plunge. The swim is a rectangular course, swum twice. You start swimming straight out from the shore for about a half mile. You make a left hand turn to swim the short side of the rectangle, and then another left for a straight shot into shore.

The wind blows over the lake making creating a chop that smacks you in the face as you swim away from shore. You will be pulling strong one second and the next you are completely submerged underwater, unable to clear your arm for the next pull. The waves just roll over you. After the first loop I was a bit panicked and not feeling the slightest bit confident. So I went out for a second loop. I needed to know that on race day I can do this. As a strong swimmer, I know that if I am feeling bad about the swim, everyone else must be feeling 10 times worse. This only provides a teensy amount of comfort though, cause I really don't care about anyone else's swim. Only mine. But it's better to go into the race with realistic expectations than to get out of the water 7 minutes off of goal time and be disappointed. I am strong. I am prepared. I am ready.

After our dip in the lake, we stopped for breakfast of oatmeal and lattes at our favorite coffee shop in CDA, Calypso. We took our steaming cups of java back to the hotel and sank into the hot tub for a while. We talked race strategy and motivation and made predictions on Kona in October. After we felt sufficiently warm again, we donned our Triscottsdale cycling kits and hit the run course on our bikes for a little preview. I really like the run course at CDA, and with the changes they made to the course this year, I'm pretty excited about it. From the transition, we run through the neighborhoods in town for about 2 miles as we weave our way out to the Centennial Trail that runs along the lake. We follow CT for the next 4 miles with gorgeous views of the lake and surrounding tree-covered hills. The final mile out to the turnaround involves a good climb, a downhill and then after making a 180 degree turn you run back up the hill, over the top and back down to the lakeside. I am taking all my confidence from my accomplishment in Big Sur onto this run course. Though is is primarily flat, those 4 hills will provide me with the break and comfort that I need to feel like me. Where hills might break some, they empower me.

After a quick shower, and a visit to the Pro Panel / Press Conference, we drove out onto the bike course for a refresher. I love this bike course. It's not easy, but it's worth it. It's relatively flat for the first 20 miles, then there are some interesting technical/ hilly bits for about 10 miles or so, and then it's 20 miles going gangbusters back into town.... and then repeat for second loop. The roads are narrow and winding. The spectators are thick and generous with encouragement. The wind will be a factor in parts of the bike course, but there are good stretches of road that are protected by the tall groves of pine trees. Simply breathtaking.

When I think about Sunday, I need to not have an expectation. It's good to have a goal, but it's also good to know when that goal is realistic or not. I'm not giving up on my aspirations, but if we wake up to 25 mph winds on Sunday (which I am expecting based on the weather we are currently experiencing...) I know that I will need to adjust the plan. I want to swim strong and feel confident in the water. I want to bike even splits and manage my nutrition well. I want to crush the run. Smash it. Kill it. Leave it all out on course. I have never had a good IM run. Of the 6 I've done, my fastest run was my very first one. Not acceptable. My run is my strength. I need to bike within my limits so that I can showcase my strength. This is my only hope for Sunday.

Ironman is a long day. Anything can happen. I could get kicked in the face (maybe this should read... will get kicked in the face) on the swim. I could flat on the bike or have a mechanical. I could fail my nutrition and end up sick (as most previous races) or starving (as in Canada last year). When I cross the finish line on Sunday, after finishing my 7th Ironman race, I will breathe a sigh of relief and begin the process of recovery and celebration. No matter what happens out there, if I hear my name called by Mike Reilly it will all have been worth it. The ups and downs. The confidence and fear. The joy and pain. It is all part of an Ironman race and I will embrace it. It will make me stronger.

Becoming a Runner

2011-06-19T11:59:00.000-07:00

I often brag about my little sister. The one who races Ironman without training. The one who ran a double marathon just for fun, since she had to cross Wyoming off her list of 50 states anyway. The one who, after I qualified for Boston in March 2009, decided she would qualify too so she could run with me. And she did. And she ran faster than me in her qualifier.

I don't often brag about my big sister.  And by big, I mean 17 months my senior. She's actually a good 15 pounds lighter than me, despite being 2 inches taller. My big sis and I were cheerleaders together in high school. We stood on the sidelines while my lil sis swam, played basketball, and threw shot. We traveled to swim meets together when lil sis swam in college.

At some point my lil sis did her first Ironman and then ran a marathon (I know, backwards, right?). This was before I knew what a triathlon was, let alone Ironman. I graduated from college, moved to Orlando and decided to get in shape. Following in my sister's footsteps, I decided I would run the Disney Marathon. I did. It was fun, and I was hooked.  The three of us decided we would run a sister's marathon, and signed up to run Des Moines 9 months later (big sis's first marathon). Side by side, in matching tank tops (designed by lil sis) and pink scrunchies, we ran 26.2 miles.

Life moved on and I kept running marathons, eventually moving to Arizona and taking up triathlon.  Lil sis took up the 50 states challenge and is busy crossing marathons off her list at the rate of about 5 per year. Big sis ran a couple more marathons in the midst of starting a family. Fast forward 7 years. Big sis has trained for 2 marathons. With each one, as race day approached she was sidelined with a stress fracture. Osteoporosis runs in my family and my sis, after 3 kids, was diagnosed with osteopenia. Her body could not handle the rigors of a traditional marathon training plan. She was devastated.

She watched as lil sis and I ran off to Boston. She watched as we took on Ironman. She watched as medals accumulated on my shelf.  In her heart, she knew she was better than her marathon PR of 4:59 indicated. When we ran the trace on a weekend that I was home visiting, she ran comfortable and conversational to my out-of-breath and just trying to hang on. She longed to finish another marathon and prove to herself and to the world that she was a runner. She was afraid to sign up for another race for fear she would have yet another DNS to add to her list. But she did it anyway.

Grandma's Marathon 2011. That was the goal. She would fly into Duluth, MN and run Grandma's. She swore she'd never need to do another marathon, if she could just do one more. She started boot camp classes. She gained strength and muscle tone.  She ran on the treadmill in her basement when the kids were at school or napping. She ran on the trace with friends for her longer runs. But as the miles accumulated, her risk of injury increased. We met in California for a week long vacation in May. With a rental house a quarter mile from the coast, we couldn't help but run. We ran every day. We ran 18 miles, 7 miles, 13 miles. We just ran, breathing the salty sea air and feeling the cool breeze on our faces.

When she returned home, having overdone it in California, the familiar pain came knocking. With race day still 6 weeks away, she stopped running. She rested and did her strength exercises. We talked on the phone and she told me she didn't know if she could finish, but she was going to start. She signed me up for text updates during the race.

Saturday morning, I got the first update as I was getting ready to leave on my bike ride. She was past the 10k mark. I rode and thought about my sister. I channeled positive energy her way. I knew that if things were going to go wrong, it would probably be in the first half of the race.  By then she would know if her leg was going to force her off course. I got home and checked my messages. She was through 20 miles. I laced up my running shoes for my 20 minute transition run and headed out the door. I knew that by the time I finished my run, she should be crossing the finish line. I thought about my sis and everything that she had been through. All the heartache. The training. The hoping, wishing, praying, sacrificing, bargaining. I choked back tears as I ran, knowing that she too was choking back tears of joy as she approached the finish line.

She ran a 4:06 yesterday. A 53 minute improvement in her marathon time. I tried to leave her a voicemail message, telling her how proud I was of her. I made it half way into my thought before I broke down crying. Finally I just told her to call me back. Not only did she finish, she killed her time goal (sub 4:30) and ran an even pace through the entire 26.2. Her first half was a mere 2 minutes faster than her second half.. People spend their entire careers trying to run so evenly.

My big sis is a silent hero. She figured out a way to overcome her obstacles. Isn't that what life's about? She quietly flew off to Minnesota, laid the smack down on Grandma's Marathon, and flew back home to her kids. Kids who know her as mom. The one who makes the PB & J sandwiches for lunch, and reads to them before bed. The one who helps them with their ABCs, and takes them to swim lessons. They don't know her like I do. She is strong, selfless, dedicated. She is a super hero in running shoes. When I was little I wanted to be just like her. I still do.

Gearing up

2011-06-09T13:47:00.000-07:00

I love the final weeks before a big race. The nervous anxiety is almost palpable in our house. I am so rested that waking up at 4 am hardly seems difficult and I can't imagine why, for the last few months, I've struggled to get out of bed when the alarm sounds. I know "they" say that during taper one becomes grouchy, irritable and suddenly doubts everything about their last 6 months of training.

Not so. Taper is my time to go easy or not at all. Taper is my time to prepare mentally for what I'm about to face. Taper means sleeping in when I want to, skipping a workout if I feel like it. Taper means getting that massage and pedicure. (I can't be the only one who gets pre-race pedicures, am I?)

This month I am gearing up for two events that I have looked forward to for over a year. After months and months and MONTHS of preparation, long bike rides in the cold, long bike rides in the wind, long bike rides in the heat, long runs on the trails, long runs on the roads, long swims, fast swims, tempo runs, track workouts... it's all about to pay off. No matter what happens out there on race day, I know I've prepared as best as I can. And this is not my first rodeo. Ironman #7 is upon me. Feels lucky, don't you think?

I hope the weather is beautiful, cool with the wind at my back. I hope I crush the swim (come on sub 1 hour!!). I hope I smile through the entire 112 miles of the bike ride. I hope I PR the IM marathon. I hope we all make it through safely. I hope they have plenty of huckleberry beer and pancakes (not together, of course). I hope the air smells like pine trees. I hope the water is cold and crisp and takes my breath away. I hope I feel that exhilaration during the race when you can go forever. I hope I get to high five my friends out on the race course. I hope people yell my name. I hope I feel that wonderful whole body tired afterwards, with muscles aching and brain cleared of all cobwebs. I hope my husband greets me at the finish line with a medal and a kiss.

Quitting vs. Giving up

2011-06-05T17:28:00.000-07:00

OK, before I get into the good stuff I need to own up to my race result from the weekend. Of my goals, I met one. I was second female out of the water. And only 4 men swam faster than me. I had an awesome swim. However, I did not meet my goals for the bike, run or overall time. I did not compete well against my competitors yesterday and I did not podium. There are no excuses. It was a challenging day out there, but when we line up on race morning, everyone faces the same obstacles on the way to the finish line.

I have always prided myself on being mentally tough. I can block out the negative voices in my head. I believe in, and routinely practice, visualization.  People say there are 5 disciplines in triathlon: swim, bike, run, nutrition, and recovery. For me there is a 6th: the mental game. I read about it. I think about it. I practice it. And yesterday, I completely folded. I gave up. I let my Inner Bitch get the better of me. It was not pretty and I am not proud. One minute I am composing my victory speech in my head, the next minute I have sworn off triathlon forever.

I always have a little bit of dread leading into this race. It's tough. It's over 6000 ft of elevation, which is fine if I lived in Colorado. I don't. I live a hair above sea level.  The elevation never gets to me until the run, but when it hits me I just want to walk. Especially on this miserable little out-and-back section of the run on horrible barely-runable gravel road. It sucks. But it sucks every year and I know what to expect and I just have to deal. This year, I placed an expectation on the race and when the going got tough very early on, I didn't deal.

I'm not going to give you a play by play of my entire day, I'll just outline a few of the things that led to my demise. I had a phenomenal swim. By half way through, I could see that I made a gap on my competition. I came out of the water second female. I was feeling great. It was a good start to the day. I hit the bike and within 3 miles I realized it was going to be a long day, but I was still feeling good. I was in the middle of composing my victory speech in my head when a man rides by me and says, "that's a men's bike," as he goes past. It interrupted my train of thought and I was completely distracted as I was trying to understand A) why it mattered, and B) was he joking? He certainly sounded condescending, but I'm also not the best at picking up subtleties in the humor of strangers.  Have I mentioned how much I love my bike? It does happen to be a "men's" frame, but don't most women ride men's frames? Especially if they happen to be tall??? It fits me, it's comfortable, who gives a fuck? I digress.

So suddenly, instead of focusing on the positive (my stellar swim) I am now focused on something negative (feeling judged by this nobody who felt the need to comment on my bike). From there it's a slippery slope. My Inner Bitch sees the opportunity and takes over.  Now I start thinking about how miserable the wind is that I'm fighting, instead of thinking about how far of a lead I got on all the other girls. Now I'm mad that the cross wind is so bad that I can't go aero, and I can't eat or drink for fear of ending up in oncoming traffic should I remove my hands from the handle bars. Literally, at 20 miles in, I gave up. I didn't quit, I gave up on myself. I gave up on my goals. I gave up on the opportunity to have a good day.  I swore I'd never race another triathlon ever (other than CDA and StG of course-- after all, I've already paid the entry fee!).

I soft pedaled the rest of the way (36 miles) back to transition where I was looking for any reason at all to even put my run shoes on. I was done. So I dismount my bike and I'm walking, dejectedly, down the hill toward the racks when the TriSports staffer monitoring the timing at T2 starts yelling at me about how "this is a race!" Basically reaffirming the fact that I am moving quite slowly at this point. I mean, come on. How hard would it be to offer a few words of encouragement?  I completely lost it. I screamed at him.  I opened my mouth and out spewed the culmination of every nasty thought that had accumulated in my head over the last 3 hours and 16 minutes. I am completely ashamed of my attitude and behavior in that moment.  I should publicly apologize to every spectator who witnessed my display.

I entered T2 and heard some people shouting for me by name, cheering me on. I was looking for a reason not to quit. And maybe that was all that I needed to put my shoes on and keep moving. If I quit, if I dropped out of a race when there is not a single thing wrong with me physically, I could never show my face in the triathlon community again. Ever. In reality, I sat down. I changed my shoes. I put my visor on. I applied body glide and sunscreen. I took my time. And when I was good and ready, I put one foot in front of the other and didn't look back. I didn't walk a single step of the run course. I was moving quite slowly and I'm sure there were spots where had I been walking I would have been going faster. But there was no reason to walk.

Physically I was completely fine. Mentally, I was out of the game. I climbed back inside my own head, hid my Inner Bitch as best as I could though after my display in T2 I was sure I had a scarlet B on my chest. I was humiliated into running. Had I walked I would have just reaffirmed my poor attitude.  After crossing the finish line, I sat on the curb and cried. I cried out of embarrassment for my shitty attitude. I cried for my loss. I cried for fear that I will not be able to conquer this inner demon now that it has seen the light of day.

I thought a lot yesterday about the difference between quitting and giving up. I did not quit. I crossed the finish line in 6 hours 12 minutes and 24 seconds.  If it wasn't my slowest half Ironman ever, it was darn close. I did give up on myself and did not honor my abilities. I am better than I demonstrated. Even with the 42 mph winds on the bike, I could have done a lot better.  I am not sore today because I did not work hard. I did not push myself.  Had I quit, I would have been spitting in the face of every person competing in the event that day. I would not have been honoring my competitors or the race. There was nothing physically wrong with me.  Quitting would say to the world that the race was not worth my effort, that when the going got rough I walked away from the challenge. I don't know that giving up is any better, but in some bizarre way I feel like I only let myself down. My performance didn't affect anyone else but me. Had I quit, what would that say to all those people who were out there 7 and 8 hours, long after I was done?   Had I quit, what would that say to all the girls who did beat me, that they were not worthy competitors? That I was too egotistical to lose to someone who was better than me on that day?

No matter what happens, no matter how bad things seem... it is always worth finishing. I learned more about myself yesterday than I have in a cumulative 5 years of racing triathlon. I learned that I am not immune to negativity and I need to be very careful when I entertain a negative thought. I learned that when setting goals for myself, I need to not only set time goals but also to have a backup plan for days like yesterday, when maybe a specific "time" is not realistic due to conditions out of my control. I learned that though I can come up with a list of reasons why I could legitimately drop out of a race (I seem to have caught the nasty bug that my husband has been battling for 2 weeks, I have been dealing with an injury since my marathon last month, should I go on?), I would only be lying to myself.

I learned that no matter what happens, I need to keep my mouth shut.   I cannot repeat enough how humiliated I feel by my attitude yesterday. I am not at all embarrassed by my performance.  I did a good job.  I cannot believe that I said the things I said and acted the way I did during the race. It is not me. I did not like the person that I saw yesterday and I hope that she doesn't show up again at any of my future races.

Life is not always what you want it to be, but it is what you make of it.  I want to make my triathlon experience a positive one.  I am not a quitter, and I won't to give up on myself anymore either. I deserve better than that.

Weekend predictions

2011-06-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend I'll be racing the Deuceman 1/2 Ironman Triathlon in Show Low. The last time I raced this 2 years ago, I did so after running Rim 2 Rim in the Grand Canyon. I was not recovered and had a very long, miserable race. Thus, I am carrying a bit of nervousness, fear and anxiety into this weekend.

However, I have been resting all week and rehabbing all my injuries, and I feel ready to roll on Saturday. I would like to throw down some predictions, or goals, if you will.

1. I will be top 3 out of the water.
2. I will bike sub 3 hours.
3. I will run sub 2 hours.
4. I will finish top 6 women.
5. I will podium in my age group.

I am hoping for a 5:30 finish, but would be happy with sub 5:40. This would be a 30 minute improvement over my last effort at this race. This race is notoriously hot. Combine the heat with the altitude and it is a very challenging race. I am keeping my fingers crossed that we will have cooler temps this year. That may help me achieve my run course goal... and possibly even smash that goal. Which is my plan.

Thank you to Endurance Rehabilitation for keeping me strong and moving. I could not do this without you!

Attitude is Everything

2011-05-30T19:08:00.000-07:00

I've been giving a lot of thought to attitudes lately, and specifically how your mind can be your best friend... or your worst enemy. Last weekend when we were biking Mt. Lemmon, we were surrounded by some very talented athletes. One in particular. But as we sat around the lunch table after our workout, I listened to him talk and realized why he has never reached his potential as an athlete. His negative attitude. He repeatedly remarked on how things were too hard, or too long, and how he was better off sticking with the shorter stuff. Mentally, he couldn't wrap his head around a challenge. He put himself down, despite the fact that he has more talent in his little finger than I do in my entire being.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there's my husband. No challenge is ever too big, and no one should dare tell him there's something he can't do. (He's just sees that as a reason to prove someone wrong.) He works his ass off, has a bit of natural talent and an amazing work ethic. And he continues to improve, and reach goals he has set for himself. When it's too hot or too windy, he thinks it's just making him tougher. I've never heard him complain about anything. When race day comes, he has left nothing to chance, and he goes out and takes what he feels is rightfully his.

I strive to be positive, and most of the time I am successful. I have proven to myself over and over that I can block out negative thoughts and employ positive tactics to survive races. But that doesn't mean it is easy. Just like any other part of training, it takes practice. And thankfully during training, I get plenty of practice talking myself down from the ledge! This weekend was my last long, hard effort before taper sets in 2 weeks from now. While I was struggling through my last 30 miles of the bike ride in a ridiculous wind, I wanted to quit. I wanted to just bike back to my car and forget that I needed 100 miles, not 90. I wanted to skip the transition run. It was windy. It was hot. I was done.

I kept going. There was nothing magical about it. I didn't have some big pep talk with myself. I just kept pedaling. And I went right past my car as I entered my last 10 mile loop. And when I finished my bike ride, I went through the motions of putting on my run shoes and hydration pack. I don't sit down. I don't think about it. I just go. I know that during Ironman, there will come a time (or possibly multiple times) when I try to talk myself out of working hard. You're going to have a PR anyway, why do you need to go any faster? 11:45 or 11:30? What's the difference? You're not qualifying for Kona anyway. You can't really run a 4 hour marathon. Hell, 4:20 would be a huge improvement! Be happy with that! These are the thoughts I will battle for 12 hours at Coeur D'Alene. But I will continue to work hard. Because it does matter. It matters to me. I don't care if I never qualify for Kona. I need to know that I have given it my absolute best. Because that is what I am sacrificing for.

I'm not a professional athlete. I refused to even acknowledge myself as an athlete up until a couple of years ago. I'm average. Middle-of-the-Pack. The everywoman. I've always believed that if I can do something, anyone can. But every time I lace up my running shoes, or strap on my bike helmet, I am proving myself wrong. I am silencing that inner voice of doubt. Because I AM an athlete. Because I work hard and I will give it my best effort on race day. Because I deserve to be the best that I can be.

2011-05-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

I've found myself a little uninspired lately. Everyday, I log on and stare at an empty blog page, wanting to write but without a subject. I think that I am physically and mentally worn out. My body is ready for taper. My mind is ready for a break from preparations, and ready to embrace the challenge. It is time.

In this sport, and in life, I continuously learn things about myself. In the 7 days after the Big Sur Marathon, I ran 35 miles and did a long bike ride of 102 miles. Big mistake. Despite how good I felt during the race, I learned that my body does need recovery time. And I didn't provide it. Since then I've been back at Endurance Rehab with a whole new set of problems, and my workouts are showing my accumulating fatigue.

Despite my suffering performance during training, I did have one significant breakthrough on Mt. Lemmon last week. The Skirt Chaser and I met up with a group of friends from TriScottsdale for a bike ride to the Cookie Cabin and back, followed by a transition run and lunch. Knowing that I would be the slowest of the group, I set out a little early from the parking lot of Le Buzz. I was several miles in before the first of my friends flew by me. When the second group went by, I picked up the pace a little bit. Not to try to hang onto the group, but just to change up my cadence a little bit. I've always been a little afraid to push myself on Mt. Lemmon because if you blow up, it's a slog to the top... if you can make it at all. At about 13 miles in, I passed a guy who had been with the lead group for a while. I was still feeling really good and had been biking about 1 1/2 mph faster than my usual pace. I continued to push myself up the climb to Palisades.

I arrived at the Cookie Cabin about 20 minutes faster than I've ever done previously. Some of the group was already there, others had gone the extra 2 miles up to the ski lodge. Eventually we all arrived feeling refreshed from the climb. It felt great! We lounged for a bit and ate cookies, drank some hot coffee and chatted. As we prepared to head back down the mountain, I took off early knowing I would be the last off the mountain. Most everyone passed me on the climb back out to Palisades. The rest of the group passed me on the descent. Despite my comparative slowness, I actually felt really good about my descent. I didn't ride the brakes the whole way. I did a much better job of centering my weight and leaning into the curves. Overall, I improved my technique. Some day (maybe) I will be able to keep up with the gang on the down. But I was very pleased with my progress considering only a year ago I clung to the brake levers the entire descent.

This week is my last big training week before the big dance. Next week I am hoping to rest up a bit before our half Ironman in the high country. Taper officially starts the following week, though the first week of taper is still pretty heavy on the mileage. I hope to get some good rest, resolve some of my new injuries, and be ready to smash the marathon on June 26 (after the swim and bike, of course).

Breaking Through the (self-made) Wall

2011-05-02T18:01:00.000-07:00

"What's your plan?," he asked her on the phone less than 12 hours before the race time. "I don't know," she whined. She hadn't given it much thought and she really wasn't feelin' it. "I guess, maybe... 3:45?, she replied. "I think you can absolutely run a 3:45, but you need to commit," he stated, "You can't decide at mile 10, you can't wait until it gets tough to decide. You have to commit from the start to run that pace."

She fell into a restless sleep that night with his words running through her head. She knew the course. She knew how hard a 3:45 would be. She had been lacking faith in herself for weeks now, for no real reason other than her usual confidence was flailing.   Why now? She had asked herself over and over again. She had overcome low self esteem once before. Why did it choose now to rear its ugly head?

Race morning dawned at the ungodly hour of 3 am. Two family members were walking the 10.6 miler and needed to catch their shuttle to the start line at 4:30 am. After getting everyone ready and boarded onto the shuttle she reclined her seat in the car and set her alarm to sleep for another hour. When her alarm sounded again at 5:30 am, she knew it was time to start her pre-race preparations.

By the time 6:45 rolled around she was ready to run though not necessarily in the correct frame of mind. After standing around without warm-up gear for 30 minutes, she was freezing. Her hip had been locked up since the moment she got out of bed. And once the gun sounded, and everyone took off down the road, she tripped on a traffic cone within the first 2 miles and figured it was a bad omen for the day. With the relentless hills from the start, she didn't bother looking at her watch until 3 miles in. When she finally did, she realized she had been running at an 8 minute pace.

Hmmmm, she thought, maybe this day isn't going so bad after all. She decided to see how long she could hold 8's. As the miles ticked by, she took stock of how she was feeling. Near mile 7 she saw her mom and sister heading down the highway from the opposite direction, heading toward Carmel and the finish line. They were laughing and having a good time and for a brief moment she thought about turning around and finishing the 10.6 mile walk with them. Instead she tossed them her gloves and kept running hard.

There was not a second of flat ground on the course. It was long, hard, steep hills. One after another. She took a gel at mile 10 feeling fatigue creeping in and hoping to boost her energy a little bit. She kept pushing hard on every uphill, and allowing gravity to do its job on the downhills. Soon, the 3:30 pace group was around her and seemed to stay with her for several miles. She played all the mental games with herself. Thought of every way to stop running, and came up with every excuse why it would be ok. This is not an A race. I've got Coeur d'Alene training to continue this week.  I can use my arrhythmia as an excuse.  This is supposed to be a family bonding week, maybe I'll just run it in with WM when I see him come by in his 21 miler. But she kept running. She kept pushing through every hill.

She rationalized that if she could hold 8's through mile 16, she could easily accomplish her goal of 3:45 even if she slowed by a minute per mile in the last 10. When the 3:30 pace group finally began to put some distance on her after mile 16, she looked inside and saw what she was capable of. Not just a 3:45, but a new marathon PR. For the first time, she could see that it was possible. She did not let up. She continued to run hard and focused on the road ahead of her. She never once saw the scenery that the course if famous for. There were no waves crashing. There were no photos taken. There were no smiles.  Singular, intense, focus.

With 10k to go, she knew the rest of the course.  She knew how many hills she had yet to climb. She knew how hard she needed to run in order to finish within PR range. Every breath was focused on the goal. Every foot strike. Every heart beat. One goal. One combined effort. She saw others walking. She saw them stopping to take in the famous fresh-picked strawberries. She could not stop. She could not afford to look up, or enjoy the view.

She ran the loop through the Point Lobos State Reserve, knowing she had 2 big hills left. With each foot fall she planned how much effort she would exert to make it up the hill with time to spare.  At this point, there was nothing left to give. No additional effort. It was all up to gravity on the downhill. Cresting the last hill, she looked at her watch. She could hear the finish line in the distance. It felt like a million years before the banner finally came into view. The crowd was cheering her on. Shouting her name, printed on the front of her race bib. She pushed, the final sprint to make it in under the 38 minute mark. It was done. Her final time: 3:37:46. A new marathon PR.   An honest Boston Qualifying time, on the hardest course she had ever run. She wished he were there to celebrate with her.

She hobbled through the food tent and found her family happily chatting and laughing in the shade of the tent. They were happy for her, but they could never fully appreciate everything she had been through like he could. The lack of faith in herself. The doubts. The uncertainty that she would ever be able to qualify again. She needed this. And someone bigger than herself knew that, and gave her the wings to fly. The courage to get on the start line. The ability to block the pain.  The energy to do that which she had though was impossible. But for 26.2 miles, she had only herself standing in her way of achieving her greatest accomplishment.

The Big Sur International Marathon will forever be the "most scenic" marathon in the world. It will also be the toughest proving ground, a place where she can revisit in her mind to know what she is made of. Iron will.  Courage.   Strength. And a heart of steel.

Matters of the Heart

2011-04-26T16:19:00.000-07:00

What if you woke up one day, and you could no longer do the thing that makes you get out of bed every day? Your mind is still there, and you have the desire... but your body won't allow you to. What if you could still do the thing that you live for, but you cause yourself harm in the process? What if you could drop dead at any moment, and if you continue with your current lifestyle... you might hasten that process? Would you give up your dream for an extra few years? How would your quality of life change without the ability to live your dream?

These are questions that I've contemplated over the last couple of weeks. Since I developed an arrhythmia. An arrhythmia is an abnormal electrical rhythm in the heart. Normally the heart beat arises from the SA (sinoatrial) node. The electrical pathway depolarizes the atria which contract and then the ventricles which also contract, producing the normal Lub-Dub sound of the heart beat. The abnormal rhythm can arise from anywhere in the heart muscle, and depending on it's electrical pathway through the heart muscle, can interrupt your normal heart beat.

An arrhythmia is not a heart murmur. An arrhythmia does not have to be associated with any underlying disease of the heart muscle, valves or coronary arteries. There are many types of arrhythmias. Atrial fibrillation. Premature atrial or ventricular contractions. Atrial or ventricular tachycardia. Ventricular fibrillation. And others that are more specific to certain illnesses or heart problems.

My arrhythmia started with premature contractions. I noticed one day during a swim workout that my heart beat was very erratic. Normally, one does not "feel" their heart beating. Even when your heart rate is up, you might feel your pulse in your jugular (or forehead/ limbs/ abdomen/ etc), but you don't feel your heart beating. I could feel my heart beating irregularly and tightness behind the sternum. It felt like my heart was pounding on the backside of the sternum. The premature contractions would interrupt my normal rhythm and then there would be a long pause before my SA node kicked back in. Eventually the arrhythmia progressed to include runs of tachycardia. When the arrhythmia stops, I feel nothing again. No tightness. No erratic rhythm.

My resting heart rate is very low. During the day, with occasional premature contractions, my heart rate would drop into the 40s. Usually this low of a rate is reserved for when I am lying recumbent in my bed at night. Generally if I am upright, my rate is closer to 70. I've not had any shortness of breath, or fainting. Nothing else has changed. I still can do my normal workouts, but I have had to stop intervals in the pool and on the spin bike due to onset of the arrhythmia. Mostly because of my inability to control my heart rate when it starts up. I can still push hard, but last week I was spinning easy on the bike with little to no resistance and I watched my heart rate jump from 110 to 195, and then when my normal rhythm resumed, it dropped just as quickly to 95. This is not normal. If my heart rate is 195, I am maxed out and should be breathing heavy, working hard, sweating. Not sitting upright on the spin bike at zone 1 effort.

I visited with a cardiologist a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately the visit was quite disappointing for a number of reasons. First, I was made to wait for 2 1/2 hours because the doctor I was scheduled with was in a procedure. And then, rather than reschedule my appointment I was then moved to a different doctor. Keep in mind it's now 4 pm on a Friday afternoon, and the doctor I was reassigned to was squeezing me in on top of his already booked schedule. So needless to say, he didn't have much interest in what was going on, he wanted me in and out in a hurry. He didn't ask me any questions pertaining to my level of exercise. He didn't even ask me to describe the episodes. He performed a 6- second ECG. Listened to my heart for an equal amount of time. And then told me he didn't see anything abnormal. But to be on the safe side, he wanted to schedule a couple of tests. He told me it was fine to continue my level of exercise since my performance hadn't suffered due to the arrhythmia.

Given that at the time my abnormal beats were occurring 1-2 times per minute, had he left the ECG running for, say, 60-120 seconds, he might have seen something. But, what's done is done. When I left the office I wanted to cry. Not only did I feel foolish for being so concerned, but I also felt like I had wasted my entire afternoon and 3 minutes of his time. I was complaining a few days later to my physical therapist (who, by the way, always listens and takes my concerns seriously) and he recommended that I go see a cardiologist that works with athletes. He gave me the information and I have scheduled an appointment next month to see a new doctor. One who runs. I'm hoping he will tell me that everything is fine, and it's nothing to worry about. And I'm certain that he will.

I've never taken my health for granted, and now I'm reminded again of how fragile life can be. One moment you think you've got the world by the balls. The next thing you know, it's threatening to all disappear. I've asked myself, if the doctor told me to stop running would I stop? Would you?

Play it Forward

2011-04-13T15:45:00.000-07:00

I love to run. And bike. And swim. And I really love to race. Whenever I have someone give me the look, (you know the one where they are trying to think of a polite way to tell me I need to be committed...), and I have to give a reason as to why I do what I do, the only think that comes to mind is that I love it. Some people like to watch TV, or play video games, or hit happy hour to unwind. I like to cook a nice meal, curl up on the couch for 30 minutes with a good book, and then be in bed by 8 pm. I like to get up at 4:30 AM and get a head start on the day with a bike ride or a run. When my alarm clock goes off it's a rare occasion when I am tempted to sleep in, and when I do I'm never happy about it later. I love to hit the trails on the weekend and run for hours. And there's nothing better than watching the sun rise while swimming laps at the pool.

Recently I've had the opportunity to share my passion with a couple of friends. One (who lives on the other side of the country) recently started training for triathlon, and completed the Nautica Miami Triathlon last weekend. Now, she wants to do Ironman!

And even more rewarding, a friend at work approached me a couple of months ago and asked if I would help her start an exercise program to get in shape for summer (aka: bikini season). So we started off slowly. Twice a week on our lunch break we would walk/ jog 1 1/2 miles to a nearby park, do a few strength exercises (lunges, squats, planks, etc), and then walk/ jog 1 1/2 miles back to work. Within a couple of weeks, the walk portions were getting shorter and shorter. Now, she runs (no walking!) about 5 days a week - on her own! - and we hit the strength workouts still twice a week. She is getting stronger and seeing changes in the mirror.

Best of all, yesterday at work she asked me how she could get involved in a running race. A 5k. This newly addicted runner has a competitive streak and is ready to put it to the test! As someone with passion for running, there is nothing more exciting than seeing someone fall in love with running. Sometimes it's hard to lead by example, but it's so much fun to 'play' it forward!

Reach for the stars...

2011-04-04T08:41:00.000-07:00

I set a really lofty goal for myself at Oceanside. I posted last week that I wanted to run a 1:45 run split. To put this into perspective, my open half marathon PR is 1:36 which I set 2 years ago. This year I've run 2 half marathons in 1:40-1:43. My goal for each open half is to sub-1:45. So to shoot for that same time at the end of a challenging 56 mile bike course... well it was a stretch. But sometimes, you need to aim for the stars. And sometime, hard work pays off in a big way.

So let me recap my Oceanside experience... Race morning could not have been any more low key. I got up at about 4:30 am. Took my time getting ready. At 5 am, my husband and I walked our bikes down to transition and got body marked. Since we were staying in a condo at the transition area, we were able to go back to our room and relax for a while. By 6 am, we were back in transition getting everything set up and wetsuits on. He was in the first (non-pro) swim wave, I was in the 17th. The waiting is the hardest part at the start of the race. You stand in line for 45 minutes watching everyone else come in and take off on their bikes.

Finally it was my turn. I lead my wave into the water and lined up front and center. When the gun went off, we took off. From the minute we started, there was carnage everywhere. Each swim wave had a different color swim cap, and by 100 meters in I was already passing caps who had started 3 minutes ahead of me. Yikes. The good news is that when you pass a slower swimmer, you get by them quickly, but it's the dodging and weaving around the bodies that really slows me down. I was feeling really strong in the water and with every person that I passed I told myself how strong I was. Every time I thought to myself 'you are a strong swimmer' it made me stronger and faster. With the current at my feet on the way back into the harbor, I pulled hard and was thrilled to look down at my watch running into T1 and see 31 minutes. A strong start to a perfect day.

The bike course at Oceanside is fantastic. The first 25 miles are fast and then hills start. The day was overcast and windy. I tried my best to stay within myself on the bike, knowing that I was going to be laying it on the line for the run. I enjoyed every second of the bike ride. And this girl has learned how to bike downhill! In previous years at Oceanside, I would pass people on the uphill, and they would fly by me on the downhill because I was a bit of a chicken. Having learned how to bike downhill I no longer had people passing me and it made the next uphill that much easier!

I loved the uphills, I loved the downhills. I tucked into my aerobars and let the wind roll off my back. My goal for the bike course is always sub-3 hours at Oceanside because of the challenging course profile. So I was happy to hop off my bike in 2 hours 56 minutes, 2 minutes faster than last year.

Now... putting my body to the test. I tore out of transition and decided to only look down at my Garmin on the mile splits. I would just push as hard as I could and see what happened. After dealing with bloating during several Ironman events, I have backed way off on my nutrition intake during races. On the bike I took in about 250 calories so coming out of T2, I was already feeling hungry. But I have learned to handle the delicate balance of enough sugar to keep me going hard, and stave off the bonk. I started right away with a gel and some Cytomax and then started taking in a glass of soda at each aid station chased with a sip of water. The cola has a nice balance of salt and sugar. This seemed to do enough to get the job done.

As each mile clicked by and my times hovered just below 8 minute per mile pace I began to get more and more excited. Believing that I really could hit my goal time. I thought about my friend a lot, and how much I wanted to smash this course for her. Last year she ran the fastest non-pro run split, and the 4th fastest run overall for women. Every time my legs hurt or I thought about stopping, I thought about her and how I am here today, racing, doing what I love and I wanted to honor her by giving it my absolute best.

The run course is a two loop out and back, so at the halfway point you find yourself back at the transition area which is a nice boost because there are so many spectators. I actually laid down my fastest mile for mile 7 because I was so uplifted by everyone cheering. I willed my legs to keep moving hard. At mile 9 my pace faltered. I was giving it all I had, but suddenly I was running 8:30 instead of 8 minute miles. I thought about giving up at that point. If I couldn't go 1:45 then it didn't really matter right? Wrong. I got back inside my head and told myself that I promised to go hard until I reached the finish line. And that's exactly what I did.

I crossed the finish line with a 1:46 run split. A half IM run PR by over 8 minutes. I crossed the line with my friend's initials in sign language on my hands which I held up over my head. My total time, 5:21. I took 11 minutes off my time from last year and missed my half IM PR by only 5 minutes. I am strong. I prepared. I was ready. And I did what I went there to do. I could not be more thrilled or proud of my run and my overall finish. I ended up 9th in my age group out of more than 100 women. I've never placed that high at a major event like this.

On the side: A friend of mine and I placed a bet months ago. We are racing 3 events together this year and we have a friendly little rivalry going on which keeps us both on our toes. I told him that at Oceanside I would beat him by 30 minutes. His swim wave started 22 minutes ahead of mine so he was running scared all day waiting for me to pass him. Since we saw each other 3 times on the run course we could yell at each other and high five as we passed. The terms of the bet require that the loser donate $30 to my fundraising efforts for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure.

Well, as it turns out, he won the bet. I only beat him by 20 minutes. I swam 10 minutes faster and ran 5 minutes faster. But in the process he took about 25 minutes off his half IM PR. And he had an amazing run split of 1:51. I could not be more proud of him for pushing outside his comfort zone. Even if it was only to win the bet. Next up is Deuceman Half IM in June. He has a 15 minute spread to cover. Loser pays $15 to the cause. I better get back to training...

The Need for Speed

2011-03-24T14:02:00.000-07:00

When I think back to about 6 years ago, when speed work was the bain of my existence, I laugh. When my husband and I moved to Arizona, I had just become "serious" about running. I had just run my 3rd marathon and was ready to take my running to the next level. Try to improve.

I was scheduled to run 3 marathons during our first year here. My goal? To break 4 hours. The first marathon of 2005 I paced my sister to her goal time of 5 hours. My second one, 2 weeks later, was my first attempt at sub-4. I finished in 4:07 but felt like it was a good effort given the hot and humid conditions on the Big Island of Hawaii.

I came home from Hawaii that year and began to focus on my 3rd and final race of the season, the Chicago Marathon. My husband helped me fine tune my training plan and agreed to pace me through some tempo runs. That summer I would get up at 3 am to get my long runs done before the sun came up. I hadn't adapted to my new climate and I was miserable. Several times I called my sister mid-run for encouragement. Other times I begged my husband to come get me. He would show up on our mountain bike and ride next to me as I finished.

And then there were the dreaded tempo runs. He was like a drill sargent. After a warm up he would meet me to pound out 2-3 miles at a faster pace. Whatever my pace was (I'll have to go back and review my logs) I'm sure it was slow by my current standards. But I hated speed work. I would cry. I would fake asthma attacks. Anything to not have to run hard. It hurt. And I didn't understand then that pain is good. At Chicago I finished in 3:50. I saw my hard work pay off. I began to understand.

Thankfully I've grown a lot since then. Ironman has expanded my views of pain and what my body is capable of. And I've found some internal motivation to go fast. A competitive drive. On my own, I pushed myself through a 24 week training block in preparation for a marathon at which I wanted to qualify for Boston. I did speed work, both tempo and track, on my own every week. I set my goals and I achieved them. At that time, 2 years ago, I was running 3:30s consistently for my 800's on the track, and around 7:15 pace for my tempo runs. I thought I was working hard, and I'm sure I was working harder than I ever had before, but now, once again, my definition of hard work has changed.

I picked up speed work again this fall in preparation for a couple of marathons and then got serious 3 months ago when my husband organized a group of friends to meet for track workouts. On my own I was running 3:20s consistently for my 800's. Add in people to pace off of and chase down? Bam 3:05. Like it was nothing. Don't get me wrong it hurts like hell. But the joy of being able to lay down 3:05s consistently overrides the little bit of pain that my body endures. And my 1600s have dropped from 6:56-7:00 to 6:30s. Teensy bit more effort, lot more reward.

The last couple of weeks at the track, I've worked harder than I've ever worked. I have been trying to break the 3:00 barrier that has eluded me in the 800. Every week I am 3:01, 3:00 but never below. Today, I set my mind to it. I did my warm up very calmly, comfortably, knowing that today was the day. My first repeat: 2:50. For the 5 minutes following, I thought I was dying. Stabbing pains in my sternum, fire in my lungs, metallic taste of blood in my throat. But I leaped for joy when I looked at my watch. 2:50. 2 minutes, 50 seconds. I followed up that 800 with a second and then 2 x 1600 all at a good effort. The burning in my lungs subsided. My high did not.

As the beginning of my triathlon season approaches (next week!!), I am confident in my abilities and know that I will reach the goals I have set for myself. I know this because I have laid the foundation of hard work and will be able to look back mid-race and know that I've felt worse. That I've hurt more. That I've gone farther and faster. I know what it is to push through fatigue and run on tired legs. I've gained strength. I've gained perspective. I've gained focus.

With that said, I'm going to go public with my first goal of the season. (Yikes!) At Oceanside, not only will I break 5:30 easily, I will run a 1:45 split for the half marathon. There. It's out.

I am strong. I am prepared. I am ready.

Moving forward...

2011-03-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

A lot has happened in the 2 weeks since my last post. We lost a friend in a tragic accident last week and it has shaped how I approach my workouts, how well I am sleeping (or not sleeping) and my focus for the future. I'm not going to dwell on death, and her close friends have done a much better job than I could in memorializing her, but here's how I'm changing...

On Wednesday morning I received a message from my husband about her death. (He was a close friend of hers, and I a friend through him.) I had just finished my 5:30 am bike ride and was about to hit the shower. Suddenly my world was a little less stable. I felt a little (or a lot) less safe. I didn't know how to process the information. I was sad. I was angry as hell. Tears dried to leave a hollow space in my heart.

As the day wore on we talked about her and what she meant to us and to our community. A fire began to burn inside, wanting to be everything that she will never get to be. At track the next morning, we each silently dedicated our intervals to her. I recorded the fastest 2 x 1600, 1 x 800 I've ever run; taking a full 10 seconds off my previous fastest 1600.

The next morning at the pool, I swam my anaerobic threshhold intervals faster than I've ever swum before. My mind and heart were emptied and were filling with a passion and desire to be my own best self. Music is very therapeutic for me, and I was filled with words of some of my favorites artists. If I have one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything I've ever wanted, will I capture it? Or just let it slip? We only have one lifetime. We have one chance to be who we want to be and accomplish what we set out to accomplish. I will not half ass my dreams.

On Sunday, my husband and I took a trip to Tucson to bike Mt. Lemmon. I had been dreading it all week because the climb is soooo long, and my legs were sooo trashed. But I got on that mountain, and my head filled with another song. One even more compelling. I sang the song from the Band Perry, ...it's a sharp knife of a short life... but I've had just enough time.... And before I knew it, I was powering up the hill thinking of all the things I want to be and do and how lucky I was to be able to ride my bike that day on such a beautiful mountain. By the time I crested Palisades and then rounded into Summerhaven, I was smiling and wishing my ride could last all day.

And this week, to help battle my demons, I pulled out my motivational CD collection from Edge Learning Institute. About once every year when I'm feeling down or particularly aggressive about something (not in a good way), I pop them in and listen as I drive around town. I learn how to motivate myself, how to approach change, and how to be my own best self. Many of the things I take into training with me (like visualization) I learned from these CDs. And each time I listen to them, something stands out to me that maybe I didn't pay attention to before. One of the things that I heard yesterday that stuck in my head was the building blocks for potential. Potential = talent + knowledge/ education + motivation. It seems so basic, and it is, but I love it. My friend had the whole package, and she had the potential to be the next great American marathoner (think Dena Kastor great). I like knowing that even though I have no inate athletic talent; with knowledge, hard work and a burning desire to work hard and give my best I have the potential to be great.

Slowly, with each day that passes, I feel more and more like myself. I have always loved hard work and seeing the results in competetion. But as I enter this season I am particularly excited to see not only the culmination of a very hard year of training but also the effects of the fuel that now feeds my flame. With Oceanside less than 3 weeks away, I can taste the salt water. I can feel the burn in my quads and I can smell the victory as I smash my previous best time.

Ragnar Relay Del Sol: We Run Arizona

2011-03-01T14:10:00.000-08:00

2 days. 197.6 miles. 6 people. How hard can it be?

What kind of sick joke is this, you ask? Well, it's called the Ragnar Relay, and last weekend 5 of my closest friends and I ran 197.6 miles over the course of 27 hours and change. Not that they were my closest friends before the weekend, but trust me. After 30+ hours together in a van without a shower? You get pretty close.

The weekend started early on Friday morning when we met at Run AZ in Gilbert, the host of our Ragnar Relay Team and the inspiration for our team name. We loaded our gear into the van provided by one of our team members and hit the road toward Wickenburg. With a brief stop in Peoria on the way to pick up our 6th runner, we made it to the start line with time to kill before our designated 11 am start time. We got checked in, went through the mandatory safety training, shared some home-made blueberry muffins and then got Runner #1 lined up ready to roll.

With Ragnar, there are a total of 36 legs of varying length. Each team has two options: 12 person team where each person runs 3 legs total with a total mileage of somewhere around 15 miles for the weekend. Or the ultimate challenge: the Ultra, a 6 person team where each runner tackles about 30 miles (some more than others). On an ultra team, a runner has 2 back to back legs, 3 times. We, of course, chose to be an ultra team. And it. was. awesome!!

I was Runner #2. So after the start, we made a quick stop in Wickenburg for breakfast (read: white toast with jelly since I would be running in less than 2 hours). I nervously bounced around the cafe not wanting to be late to the exchange while everyone else enjoyed eggs, toast, potatoes, etc. Finally, we were out the door and driving to the exchange point. I was ready to get started. My first leg was fairly easy. A flat 13.5 miles with a bit of a wind to add some challenge. I ran it just slower than an 8 minute per mile pace. The van stopped a couple of times along the way to cheer me on and boost my spirits. Before I knew it, I had passed the "slap-bracelet-baton" to the next runner.

Having learned from past Ragnar experiences, I took the time to stretch and change into dry clothes after my run. I ate a PB&J sandwich and drank some Cytomax (hello, crack!). (No, seriously, have you ever tried Cytomax? I highly, highly recommend it. Pure sugar high without the yucky mouth feel.) The miles seemed to fly by as we got closer and closer to sunset. We had one near miss at exchange #8. The road between 6 and 8 was terrible and we were driving so slowly due to all the potholes. Just as we pulled up to the exchange point, we saw our runner heading into the chute. We nearly threw Runner #5 out of the van. He had no time to even apply body glide before his 17.6 mile leg, the longest of the whole weekend.

At this point the sun had set and everyone was wearing headlamps and reflective vests. It was neat to watch the stream of runners line the highway in the dark. I was starting to get sleepy but knew I needed to stay awake till after my second leg. By about 9:30 pm I was at exchange #14 waiting to take the baton for round 2. My second leg was my toughest. It was 12 miles, uphill, with about a mile and half on a rocky trail, in the dark. Within a mile of starting the run, I hit the trail section. This part I really embraced. I can run trails, and I can run trails in the dark. So this was one little piece where I could lose myself in the moment and not think about running. I enjoyed it. Coming off the trail, back on surface streets was a little frustrating. The shoulder was not wide enough for me to safely run on with the oncoming traffic. So every time a car came, which was quite often, I had to jump off into the gravel which I hate running on. But I HTFU'd and kept it going. I managed to keep a 9:50 per mile pace for this entire leg. Not bad for my second half marathon in less than 10 hours. (And did I mention it was uphill?)

Again I stretched. Changed into dry clothes. This time it was 2 PB&J sandwiches and the rest of the Cytomax. Then on to a few other easily digestible snacks. I took a little catnap and tried to support my team at the exchange points. The night stretched on and we caught a lot of teams that had started earlier in the morning on Friday. We cheered on friends from other teams. By the time morning rolled around I was exhausted. Having been awake for roughly 24 hours, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open and stole a few minutes of shut-eye whenever I could.

At about 7:50 am, I was hitting the road on my 3rd and final leg. 12 miles, down 9-Mile Hill and through Rio Verde. I had been looking forward to this leg all weekend. Down hill is my strength. It doesn't beat me up. My quads don't hurt. I just fly. And fly I did. After a 1 mile climb to the top of Dynamite, I began the 9-mile descent. I ticked off miles and picked off people left and right. I passed a total of 16 runners in this final segment. Roadkill as they are called in Ragnar. I thought once I came off the hill at mile 10, my pace would slow, but surprisingly it didn't. I ran 12 miles in 8:46 pace. I was shocked. My 3rd half marathon in less than 20 hours. I felt my strongest. I wasn't fatigued (other than sleepy).

My grand total for the weekend: 37.4 miles, 5:31:16, 8:51 minutes per mile average.

I was thrilled to be done. 'Again, stretched, changed clothes, at PB&J (my fourth sandwich!). At the next major exchange point I ate pancakes with syrup. I was happy as a clam. And now I was tired. While driving to the next exchange point, I feel asleep in the middle of reading directions to our driver. Literally. Gave one instruction. And before I could open my mouth to shout the next turn, I was asleep. I woke up a half mile later, just before we missed our turn! I slept in the van while driving the rest of the way and woke up some time later as we were waiting for the last exchange to happen. Then it was on to the finish line.

Our team ran across the finish around 2:30 pm on Saturday. 197.6 miles, 27 hours 38 minutes and 3 seconds. We averaged 8:24 per mile. Team We Run Arizona took first place in it's division. We placed top 5-6 among Ultra Teams, and were 44th overall out of over 300 teams. And we had a blast while doing it. Afterwards, I ate a Hawaiian Delight Pizza from Papa Murphy's and was asleep by 5 pm. After 16 hours of sleep I awoke refreshed, and ready to go for a run.

Pemberton Trail 50k: The night run

2011-02-13T06:10:00.000-08:00

Wow. I can't believe it's over. And I'm walking better than I imagined. Last night I ran my first ever ultramarathon, the Pemberton Trail 50k. This was the 11th year of the race and the debut of the night run. It was an experience!

It started with a few words from the RD just before 5 pm. With a "ready, set, go!" we were off and running with about 90 minutes of daylight remaining in the sky. The temperatures reached about 78 degrees so it was a little warm starting out, but being desert, I knew that once the sun went down the temps would drop quickly. I decided to run with my usual GoLite Rush Pack. I've trained with it. I've run every trail run with it. Why screw with a good thing? I kept the water light, just about a liter, and tucked my arm warmers, gloves and hat into the pocket.

The first 1 1/2 miles were a tad crowded but not bad. By the time I hit mile two things were spreading out. I was running comfortably hard but not overdoing it. I wanted to get as far as I could before the sun set cause I have terrible night vision and knew I would slow way down the second loop. Plus, let's face it, fatigue was going to set in slowing me down further. I made the decision to run the entire first loop and then see how I felt going into loop 2. I made it to the second aid station at mile 11 before the sun set. I didn't stop for aid in the first loop since I was carrying everything I should need. Past the aid station, I pulled out my headlamp and switched into the night.

Night running is a whole different ballgame. Things look different. Your mind plays tricks on you and I began to doubt my abilities. Here I was at mile 12 wondering if I was going to finish. Plus without the shadows created by the sunlight it can be difficult to spot the soft spots in the trail and I definitely hit a few much to my ankle's dismay. I took the advice of a friend who had done PT 50k before and decided to blow past the start/finish which also has aid set up. You never want to risk that you'll seek the comfort of the roaring fire rather than head out for loop number two. Plus I was already imagining bagging it a Tonto and trying to catch Dan's finish. I finished loop one in 2 hours 24 minutes.

Starting loop two, I made a deal with myself. During every mile I could stop and walk for 50 paces. Plus any uphills that were completely unbearable. I managed to run the first 3 miles before I hit the rocky incline which I walked for safety reasons. This is where Pam Reed and her husband passed me. (We went back and forth on the first loop.) I stayed pretty close behind them for several miles and when he made a pit stop she slowed up and talked to me a little bit. Her words of encouragement were much needed at that point and if I could hug her today, I'd tell her that she kept me going. I told her it was my first ultra. She told me I was doing great and I was almost there. She told me I'd have highs and lows but to just keep a steady pace and it would work out fine. We chatted a few more minutes about her Old English Sheepdogs who love to run with her and then her hubby caught back up and they were off after a few more kind words of encouragement.

I thought about what she said and knew that she was right. The same holds true in Ironman, there are highs and lows which are guaranteed to pass. The key is to not let the lows get the better of you, mentally or physically. I stopped for a few minutes at the mile 21 aid station for a much needed salted potato and a couple glasses of Coke. Off again, I knew I had roughly 5 more miles of difficult terrain before I hit the downhill. I can do this, I thought. I nearly resigned myself to the 6-hour finish which was my tentative goal at the start of the day. But then the salt and sugar kicked in and I started feeling better. My walk breaks were limited to my 50 paces and became fewer and farther between.

With 10k to go, I hit the downhill. Within a mile I was at the 26 mile aid station where I took in another salted potato and Coke. I informed the volunteers, both ultra veterans, that after this point it would be the farthest I had ever run. The cheered me on as I took off again down the trail. Now I was running at a pretty steady pace. It hurt just as much to walk, so I kept running. Might as well get there faster. I had run this section several times over the past couple of months after our long bike rides and I knew it well. I told myself that if I felt like it, I could take walk breaks at the start of every mile up until I hit the stop sign which marked 1 1/2 miles to go. But I never felt like it. Each time my watch signaled another mile, I thought 'I don't want to stop, I feel OK'. And I kept running.

Seeing the stop sign in the distance was a welcoming home. I had 1 1/2 miles to go. I was doing this. Passing the Scenic Trail sign with 0.9 miles to go I looked down at my watch for the first time in a few miles. I had 11 minutes to break 5:30. 'You can do this', I told myself. I picked up the pace. For the first time in a while, I was breathing heavily. I could see the lights of other runners ahead of me as we all continued forward progress to the goal. Little did I know, it was Pam and her husband in front of me and I caught up to them just before the finish. I finished one second behind her. Not bad for a first try! (If you don't know who Pam Reed is, you might want to do a google search. She is an ultra guru and has taken on many crazy challenges. To her name she also owns the title of past Badwater winner. Dude. I kept up with a Badwater champion.)

I was tired. Happy. Proud of my accomplishment. I looked around for my husband and when I couldn't find him, I headed back toward the car. He had fallen asleep waiting for me and just woke up. The problem with distance running is not the distance. It's the stopping. The minute I put my feet up inside the car, I started to cramp and my legs suddenly felt like lead as I'm sure the blood was pooling. It was excruciating. It took a couple of minutes to regroup and then we headed over to the campfire to get a little food and drink.

We recapped the night's event on our drive home. I'm proud of us both. We faced a challenge head on and met our goal. I felt prepared for the distance and the terrain from all my winter training. I blew my goal time out of the water by over 30 minutes. It was a good day. It was a good night's run.

Breakthrough on the Trail

2011-02-09T12:32:00.000-08:00

Not that I'm an experienced trail runner, by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd like to think I've come a long way in the last year. Last weekend, though, I feel like I had a breakthrough on the trail. It was race #5 in the Aravaipa Running Trail Series. The final event before the finale in March (which I can't make it to). I didn't have high hopes for the day. My previous runs in the series have averaged anywhere from 13-15 minutes per mile. That's practically a walking pace.

Before the run we all gathered under the heat lamps to stay warm. I overheard a 17-year-old kid ask his parents how he was going to know where to go. They told him to just follow the runners in front of him. He replied, dead seriously, "but what if I'm winning?!!?" I told him not to worry, Nick and Jamil do a good job of marking the course and just to follow the signs. Shortly after the race started. I lined up toward the back of the pack since that's usually where I finish.

A mile into the race, I'm getting really pissed off because I'm surrounded by people (still?!) and there is a man behind me who sounds like he's having an asthma attack with every step. I want to turn and tell him to slow down, there's 15 miles to go! But I can't do that, that's mean. I'm really annoyed because one of the things I love most about the trail is the solitude. In the other events I practically ran the entire race completely alone. I like to hear my foot falls, get into a rhythm, and get lost in my thoughts. Can't do that when you're in a pack. I see a small chance to escape and I jump. As we enter a wash, I take off. Lay down the hurt for a brief minute, just enough to lose the heavy breather, and get just ahead of the pack. They stay with me for a bit, but slowly I gain some distance.

I'm alone now and loving the trail. We're in the San Tan Regional Park. The trail is fabulous; soft, hilly, not too rocky. The scenery is gorgeous. I am seriously loving every second. I pass people now and then. A few people pass me. Having studied the course map, I am aware of the out-and-back section at the end of the long loop. Soon we start climbing Goldmine Pass up, up and up over the mountain. It's steep, rocky. It's the only time I've stopped to walk so far, but when it's this steep my billy goat hike is much faster than my "run". At the top we round the peak of the mountain and start an even steeper, rockier descent. I get passed by a lot of people on the downhill cause I'm slip-sliding all over the place and all I can see is taking a nose-dive and ending up broken. At the bottom, I take off running again. Totally epic. Totally loving every second.

To the turn around and back, then I head back up the climb I just came down 15 minutes earlier. At this point I can see all the people behind me and I realize I'm not doing so bad! I power hike up and over and then shimmy down the other side and then I'm off. Within a mile and half, I'm back at home base heading out for the short loop with about 5 1/2 miles to go.

There's a group of 3 men (ok, 2 men and a kid) ahead of me. I hear one say he's going to catch the guy in the yellow tank and he kinda picks up the pace. He quickly puts land between himself and the other 2. (Side note: yellow tank guy is one of those 70-year-old studs that has been running for like a million years and has all the endurance in the world. I'm gonna be that guy one day. Or girl.) I'm feeling really good so I decide I'm going to try to go with red shirt guy after yellow tank guy. I drop the other two and pretty soon I've dropped yellow tank guy too. Red shirt guy stays with me. He says he's going to pace off me. He's never run more than 9 miles. He's using me for inspiration to keep going. Whatever, I think, as long as I'm leading.

Before I know it, I'm passing more people. People who always beat me. And then, to my great satisfaction, I fly by 17-year-old-what-if-I'm-winning kid with 3 miles to go. He's walking. I tell him to keep up the good work and zip down the trail. I'm loving this trail. Have I mentioned that yet? With a mile to go, I look at my watch. For the first time I realize how really good I've done and set one last goal for myself. I continue to fly by people and I can hear red-shirt guy on my heels. No way am I gonna let him pass me after he's tailed me for 4 miles. I lay down the hammer. It's an all out sprint to the finish. I won, of course. By one second. Enough for my satisfaction. I turn and offer him my hand in congratulations, a job well done.

I stick around an eat some hot chili and drink some gatorade. I'm enjoying the high of my performance. It's a rare treat in running when everything just comes together and it feels easy and wonderful. This is the second time I've had that happen on a trail (first one being the Pemberton 50k relay I was part of last year). Trails are brutal, punishing, real. But this one I conquered. In a 10-minute per mile pace. I look forward to taking my husband back to experience the San Tans. This weekend though, I am more confident than ever and looking forward to Pemberton. My first official ultramarathon....

London's Run

2011-01-31T10:01:00.000-08:00

I wanted to attach a quick link from one of the London's Run Honorees, Breanna. This story was posted by the father of a young girl battling cancer. She is why we ran London's Run on Saturday. I was glad to receive the email today with the link as it helps me keep things in perspective. It's not about how far or how fast I can run. It's about being able to run.

(Click on her name to go to the story.)

Adventures in Running

2011-01-30T15:54:00.000-08:00

My new year is off to a quick start. I can't believe it's February already. Where did January go? I've been keeping busy with running and running and running with a little bit of swimming and biking thrown in for good measure. Here's just a few highlights...

1. Thursday Track workouts:
My husband and I put together a group of friends to do track workouts together on Thursday mornings. For starters, it's great to have people holding you accountable to getting out of bed when it's dark and chilly. I've found that I look forward to this workout so much that when my alarm rings at 5 am, I bounce right out. Or at least stumble sleepily without hitting snooze.

With people around to push me, my repeat times have dramatically improved. The last time I did speed work (before IM Canada) I was hitting around 3:20-3:30 for my 800 repeats depending on how tired I was. I have consistently been hitting 3:07 for the past few weeks. And my mile repeats have improved from 6:56 to 6:35! I can't keep up with the guys who show up, but it helps to have them just out of reach to keep me striving. As my husband says, to run faster you have to run faster. And track workouts are helping me do just that!

Who knows, maybe I'll aim for another BQ in the next 15 months....

2. PF Chang's 1/2 Marathon:
My (other) sister flew into town for the 1/2 Marathon. I didn't have a goal in mind for this race. I figured I'd take it out comfortably and pick it up at mile 8-10. I ended up running 1:40 and change. Not a PR by any stretch, but the fastest I've run for a half in two years. And it was easy. I ran comfortably and then around mile 8, just tried to increase my effort. I ended up running my last mile only a couple of seconds slower than my first mile (mile 1 is always way too fast!). I was really excited about the strong finish, and feeling like I could have gone faster. My sis also reached her goal of sub-2 hours! She's training for a marathon in June.

3. Coldwater Rumble:
A week after PF Chang's was my 4th race in the Aravaipa Running Trail Series. Bad news: I got horribly lost. Good news: I finally got to use my map! I arrive at every trail race with a copy of the race map in my Rush Pack. I've never gotten to use it before. I almost started feeling silly for carrying it. I was running along with my best girl, chatting away, enjoying the gorgeous weather... and before I knew it we had gone quite a ways without seeing a red trail marker flag. Once we realized, we started to pay attention but it was too late. We eventually reached a dead end of sorts and realized we needed to turn around. We added an extra hour on the trail (roughly 5 miles?) and it turns out we missed a sharp right hand turn that dropped into a ravine. So what was supposed to be a 20 mile trail run, turned epic.

After a brief period of "oh, shit, this is going to be a long day" we turned our frowns upside down and enjoyed the gorgeous weather and beautiful trail. I truly enjoy trail running and even though it was hard, and I was sore for days, I loved every step of it. I believe that I have become a better, stronger runner because of expanding my horizon to include trails.

4. London's Run 1/2 Marathon:
I hate to cap off January with a weak performance, but at least it was a learning experience. My legs have not recovered from last weekend's epic trail run, and now I find myself battling severe head winds and a bad attitude. Working off my husband's advice to just "go all out" at the beginning and "if you die at mile 6, so what?"... I took off like a bat out of hell. I didn't die at mile 6. I died at mile 4. How sad is that? With every step my right calf felt like it was in a vice, and someone was repeatedly stabbing my hip joint with a fire poker.

When fatigue set in, my mind went south and I really struggled to keep it together. I wanted to cry, but when I cry while running my throat closes up and I can't breathe. So that was out. I wanted to scream. But the course was lined with photos of all these cancer survivors and kids battling worse things. So I couldn't scream. How selfish would that be? Instead, I just had to grin and bear it. I pretended to enjoy it, while seething internally. I was mad at myself for running so slowly. I was mad that my legs weren't recovered. I was mad that I set up an expectation that I couldn't achieve. I finished 1:43 which is completely respectable, just not what I had in mind when I started.

My friends remind me that these are the days that I can draw from in the future. When the going gets tough, I'll know I've battled through worse. I've never wanted to quit so badly in my life and I didn't. That has to count for something.

That's all for racing. I have a new favorite IM workout. I park at the Pemberton trail head, bike the hills of McDowell Mountain Road, 9-mile, and Palisades Blvd. My husband bikes from our house, meets me at the car after 50-70 miles of biking and we transition run on Pemberton. It's such a nice change of scenery and I don't dread the T-run. Then it's a nice lunch at our favorite hot spot (DJ's!) before we drive home.

February is slated to be even busier and better than January. I know it's going to fly by. I look forward to sharing stories from my first ultramarathon! Less than 2 weeks away!

Trekkin' For Titties...

2011-01-06T14:30:00.000-08:00

Now that I have your attention!

For the past few years, I have considered walking the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. The 3-Day is a 60 mile, life-changing journey to support the fight against breast cancer. This year, I have said yes to that challenge and on November 11 I will begin my walk in Phoenix, Arizona.

My team, Trekkin' for Titties, will walk 60 miles over the course of 3 days. If you've followed my blog, you know I'm very active and it would seem that 60 miles would not be a challenge. I beg to differ. My body is used to biking, swimming, and running. Walking uses entirely different muscles. Whenever my mom comes to visit and I walk with her, I always end up sore for days in places I didn't know I had (shins, side of shins, ankles, etc). My mom walks 5 miles a day. I don't. This will definitely take conditioning and training on my part. My team plans to undergo a 6 month training program in preparation for this event.

I will walk for those I know who have had breast cancer. They are survivors. They are the lucky ones. I will walk for your family and friends who have battled cancer as well. Cancer affects each and every one of us. It's time we find a cure.

I have set my fundraising goal at $3400. $100 for every year of my life that I've been alive and healthy. I challenge you to donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation on my behalf and support me in my journey. I challenge you to give $1 for every year of your life. $1 for every year of your child's life. $1 for every year of your spouse's life. Give as much or as little as you can and are called to give. Times are tough. Every dollar gets me one step closer to the goal. Don't shy away because you think your donation is not worth enough. Your donation is tax deductible.

Thank you for your financial support. Thank you for your words of encouragement. I look forward to this journey. I look forward to meeting some amazing people and walking beside them in November. I hope that my step-daughter and my niece never have to worry about breast cancer in their lifetimes. Let's end this disease. Now.

Click on my link at the top of the page on the right to donate today. Come back and visit for updates on my training and fundraising progress.

The Dawning of 2011

2011-01-04T11:13:00.000-08:00

I'm not a resolutionary. I don't set goals because my calendar flashes a particular date. I do however feel a little bit of nostalgia around the holidays. I like to reflect on the year gone by. Remember the cool things I've done, things I've accomplished. Look forward to the coming year and challenge myself to be a better person. Looking back on 2010, there are some highlights that definitely stand out...

1. Stepping outside my comfort zone and racing the Desert Classic Duathlon in the pouring rain, and having a blast while doing it!

2. Running the Boston Marathon, a dream come true.

3. Running the Big Sur Marathon and being inspired for 26.2 miles. Totally amazing, words can't describe. Forget what you've been told, just do it.

4. Taking my husband and our closest friends on a Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim expedition of the Grand Canyon. One of my favorite places on earth, with my favorite people on earth.

5. Conquering Mt. Lemmon. I am still reaping the benefits of facing my fears.

6. Ironman Canada: I came, I saw, I conquered. My honorary IM PR.

7. Ran across the Golden Gate Bridge. Early morning quiet and fog. The bridge was all mine. Beautiful, awesome, inspiring.

8. Watched, encouraged, and supported a good friend during his first 100 mile race. I laughed, I cried, I will never be the same.

9. Fell in love with trail running over and over and over again. I may not be good at it, but it has captured my heart.

10. And last but not least, fell more in love with my husband and built stronger bonds with my best friends. Without them, is any of this really meaningful?

As I look forward to 2011, I have set challenges for myself that will ensure I stay on my toes. Some I will achieve with little effort. Others scare the poop out of me. But I know that life is short and I plan to live it to the fullest, surrounded by the ones I love.

That said... here's to the New Year!

Birthday Swim

2010-12-14T11:42:00.000-08:00

For my birthday this year I decided to give myself a little gift. The gift of accomplishing something that seems just enough of a challenge, but not entirely out of the comfort zone. That gift was a 10,000 meter swim. 10k. 6.2 miles. 200 laps in a 25 meter pool. Why, you ask, would I want to swim 10,000 meters? For my birthday?!

Well, the answer is fairly simple. Each year, it's natural to take stock of where I'm at health-wise. How is my fitness compared to last year? Despite looking significantly older than I did 5 years ago (I recently stumbled across a photo album with some pictures of us when we first moved to AZ), I am in quite a bit better shape. I can run faster and farther. I can swim and bike- which I have been able to do since I was very young but never did on a routine basis until 5 years ago. 5 years ago I had just finished my first triathlon. It makes me laugh now thinking about how hard it seemed, and how slow I went back then.

Anyway, back to my birthday. I wanted to take on a challenge that I knew I could accomplish, but was just enough of a stretch to make me a little nervous and excited. I managed to recruit my husband to swim with me, and we were joined by a couple of friends in the second half of the swim. I chose early Sunday morning, December 12. 6 am. I planned for 4 hours which would give us enough rest between intervals. I mapped out the sets and my husband brought home enough packages of Sharkies (shark-shaped energy chews) that we used to count 100s. We put 100 Sharkies into one Tupperware, and after each set we transferred the appropriate number of Sharkies into a second Tupperware container. These also served as sugar and calories during the swim.

The Workout:
Warm up 500 swim/ 500 pull (1000 total accumulated)

Main set #1:
10 x 100 swim (2000)
500 pull (2500)
10 x 100 swim (3500)
500 pull (4000)
10 x 100 swim (5000)

Mental break:
300 breaststroke/ backstroke
200 swim
300 pull
200 breaststroke/ backstroke (6000)

Main set #2
10 x 100 swim (7000)
2 x 250 pull (7500)
10 x 100 swim (8500)
5 x 100 pull (9000)

Cool down:
10 x 100 alternating 100 swim/ 100 breaststroke or backstroke
Grand total: 10,000 meters!

My arms felt like Jell-o after about 7500, but we hung in there. Our splits were actually pretty even, with our final 100s just as quick as our first 100s. We averaged 1:40-1:42 per 100 and did them on 2 minute intervals. Our total swim time was 2:56, total time in the pool was 3:44. Our friend Jim swam with us from 6000-9000 and Danielle swam with us from 7000-10000. Their encouraging words kept us motivated and moving forward!

Afterwards, we celebrated with breakfast at Liberty Market where I treated myself to a sticky bun. It was a good birthday, and another epic swim. But now the question is, what do I give myself next year?

A Month of Thanksgiving

2010-12-02T11:58:00.000-08:00

How very sad that my last post was nearly a month ago. I truly love to write and often use this blog as a means of stress relief. A creative outlet. There have been many times over the last month where I've thought to myself.. oh, I should write about this! Or that, or whatever. Anyhoo, time flies and here we are.

After my epic 5000 meter swim in November, I proceeded to smash the Women's Half Marathon the following morning in Tempe. Having not done any real run training in a very long time, and zero speed work, I was shocked to pull a 1:43 out of my hat on race day. Averaging sub-8 minute miles for the entire 13. And the best part about it was I felt fantastic the entire way. I actually picked up the pace in the last few miles!

The following weekend I "raced" another Aravaipa Running trail race at Pass Mountain. 26k of grueling trail. This time however, I remembered my Rush Pack and didn't bonk on the trail. And what I remembered of Pass Mountain from last year showed me how much I've actually improved in trail running over the last 11 months. Last year, Pass Mountain was my very first trail run ever. And I suffered big time trying to keep up with everyone in the group I was with. I remembered the climb to the top as being super long and hard (it's not). This year during the very well organized and executed trail race, we started with about 8-10 miles on "flat" ground before we began the climb which was over before I knew it! And then it's a wonderful downhill and rolling finish. My best girl took first again and happily I came in 3rd female (an improvement!) and I'm now in second place in the series standings.

Then began the preparations for Ironman Arizona. My cousin was racing his first IM as was my good friend JA, my sister flew in to race her 3rd, and my husband was racing in hopes of another Kona qualifier. So for 2 weeks it was taper, nutrition, hydration, drive here, pick up wetsuits, take care of bikes, pep talks, early to bed, not too much beer. All while working full time and keeping the house somewhat in order for holiday guests.

Race day was epic. Weather predictions were rain, 60s and windy. And Mother Nature delivered. I started my day walking everyone down to transition and getting them all checked in, tires pumped and ready to roll. With 20 minutes to spare my cousin is struggling to zip up his wetsuit. I glance over and somethings not quite right. The suit is on inside out. With the help of 3 people we had him out of the suit, and back in it within a matter of minutes. Breathe. Ready to swim! I wished all my racers well and as they headed through transition into the chilly lake, my family and I made our way down through the park to find a clear spot to watch the swim. The announcer began to play "Beautiful Day" by U2 and I knew it was time. The show was about to start. Within minutes the water was churning with arms, legs, bodies. Everywhere. It's amazing to watch. As many times as I've been there in that mess, it never feels quite as bad as it looks from the outside. Carnage.

Once the swimmers were past our vantage point, we moved to a spot along transition to see them out of the water and through T1. My husband was the first out in 1:05, followed shortly by my sister and my cousin had an amazing swim of 1:22. For someone who just started swimming about 8 months ago, not bad! Once they were safely onto the bike course, I jogged back to the hotel made a quick stop at starbies for some fuel and hit the airport to wait for my mother whose plane was landing any moment.

Clouds took over the sky as we got back to the lake about 45 minutes later. We headed to the PTC aid station to socialize a bit and help set up. We watched as the pros came through on their first (and sometimes second) loop. My husband came through looking strong. My dad was back home giving me updates since I didn't have a computer to monitor where he was. I knew he was in 26th place coming off the bike, and in the first 3 miles of the run had moved to 22nd. This was his game, the run, and I knew he could run them all down if all stayed according to plan. After he ran through, my mom and I headed back to the transition side of the lake to watch for my sister and cousin to come off the bike. From our spot we watched my husband as he ran by at mile 12, now in 13th place. Little by little he was making progress.

We were able to catch him several more times around mile 17 and then again just past 21 and at this point he was in 8th. I screamed my fool head off as he ran by and told him to keep running, not let up. He needed to hold his place if he wanted to make it to Kona. Thankfully my husband isn't bothered by the drill sergeant bit so me screaming at him didn't take him off his game. If he even noticed, he was very in the zone! By this point, my sister had also come off the bike and was in her first loop of the run. We cheered for her and then headed to the finish line to await SkirtChaser's arrival.

At the finish line, nerves started to build. I had been surprisingly calm all day and now, knowing he had less than 5 miles to go and no places to give, I was freaking out and holding back tears. I called a good friend who was helping man the PTC aid station and told him SkirtChaser's position. I told my friend to let him know so he would keep pushing the pace and not let up. I texted my dad and told him to watch the finish online and text me immediately with his age group placement when he finished. And the phrase, a watched pot never boils, was never so true. I stared at the finishing chute without blinking. Not wanting to miss a second. And then. There he was. Running hard. Looking strong. I was screaming and nearly crying. He finished. 8th place.

I jumped out of the stands and ran around to the athlete exit. At this point he was in a wheelchair about to be hauled off to medical. Now, if he really needed it, I would let him go to medical. But we both believe that if you don't need it, you shouldn't go. Medical personnel are not there to make sure you have a speedy recovery with IV fluids. I stopped the volunteers and knelt in front of him. "Do you want to go to medical?" I asked. "Noooo," he sort of slurred in response. "OK, then you are going to need to put your arm around my neck and walk out of here with me," I encouraged him. And he did. With a little help walking, we headed over to massage where they rubbed him down for 15 minutes. Then I helped him into a warm parka and over to a grassy area where he could lay down for a while. I put my mom in charge of watching him and I went to find his dry clothes bag. By the time I got back he was a little more coherent and was almost ready for some french fries. He went through the food tent and then we flagged down a bicycle chauffeur to take us back to the hotel. That was the best $20 I've ever spent. It was literally a quarter mile to the hotel that, walking, would have taken us the better part of an hour.

We made sure he was eating, drinking, and started a hot bath for him and then my mom and I took off to get some much deserved food (we hadn't eaten all day!) and then back to the run course to watch for my sister to finish. We watched as JA came in all smiles. She truly had an amazing race and I think if the weather had been better, she would have been pushing the Kona qualifiers in her age group. (She biked around 6:30 in the crappiest weather this course has ever seen!!!). Totally amazing and inspiring. I love watching new Ironman finishers realize their dreams. And shortly after my sister was heading down the chute as well. She came flying through the finish line in great time, looking good. She was only 15 minutes off her last IM time which was amazing considering she hadn't really trained for this. She did have an amazing aerobic base though with all the marathons she runs every year. Without training, I have to note, she did suffer quite a bit more following IM. Her muscles were not used to being on a bike for 6+ hours and she really paid for it in the days afterwards.

After my sister's finish, I again made sure she was in good hands with my mom and my husband, and I went off to wait for my cousin. I knew he was in his last 5 miles, and so I ran across the Mill bridge to wait for him at the 2 1/2 miles to go point. Some friends joined me and kept me company as we waited for him. He too, hadn't trained a lot due to a new job started in the middle of IM training. But he knew what lay ahead of him on race day, and he didn't back down. He was all smiles when he came walking down the path towards us. I walked with him and we chatted as he made his way around the lake for the last time. As we approached transition, and the split off for the finish line, I sent him off with encouragement to run it in. He trotted off and I made my way back to the food tent to wait for him to come through. In under 16 hours, he became an Ironman. And better yet, he's ready to sign up for #2!! That is the Ironman spirit!

We watched as the last Ironman finisher crossed the line, ushered by the world record holder herself. The enthusiasm of the crowds never wavered. They gave as much love to the 16:59 finisher as they did to winner. This is what is great about our sport. It is a community. It's a group effort. We are all in it together, even though on the race course we are competing against each other. We walked slowly back to the hotel, feeling very blessed.

After a fitful night sleep, we were up early to claim our spot (well really his spot!) in the Ironman World Championships. I can't wait to go back to the Big Island and watch him really compete. He was robbed last year and now he can do it justice. We ate and drank and celebrated with family and friends.

With Ironman over, I had a few days off work to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family and friends. I truly feel blessed to have a family that I love, admire, respect, cherish and want to spend time with. My husband makes me smile every single day and I'm not sure there's anything else I could ask for. When we moved here almost 6 years ago, I was very homesick. About twice a year I would beg him to move back to the Midwest. It wasn't until the last year or so when I started hanging out with my girls, DMB and KS, that I began to feel content here in AZ. As an adult, with a full time job and family, it's hard to meet people (girlfriends!) because everyone else has the same full time job and family obligations. These two girls (and their husbands) along with several other close friends are our AZ family. We've built a friendship that means the world to me and this year as I reflected on things I'm thankful for, I realized that I never went through my usual bout of homesickness this year. I owe it to them for being there for me, loving me, and making me laugh all year long.

And now, as the weekend approaches, my wonderful husband and I are off to Vegas to celebrate our one year anniversary at the Vegas Marathon! Though we won't be stopping at the Run-Through Ceremony to renew our vows, we will reflect back on last year and how much fun we had and what an amazing journey our life has been. Every day I get to wake up next to my best friend. And every night I kiss him goodnight before my head hits the pillow. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Pride and Perspiration

2010-11-06T15:19:00.000-07:00

I participated in the DCB Adventures Open Water Swim at Tempe Town Lake today. I signed up for the 5000 meter swim, though I'm not sure why considering I've not had a swim workout longer than 3000 meters since August 29. But it sounded good at the time of registration and I'm not one to back out of a challenge.

So the way that it works is I start with a 1k swim (swum with the participants of the 1k swim). Then I exit the water during the 2k swim, and re-enter the water about 45 minutes later with the 4k swimmers. My initial plan was to jump in with the 1k swimmers and then just keep going. I wouldn't have an official time for my swim, but since it was just for fun I didn't think that I cared. I'm not sure who activated my competitive gene 5 years ago, but thanks! I think.

So I start my 1k swim. As with all open water swims I went out too hard in the first 150 meters. But then as I sighted the first buoy, I realized that I was near the front of the pack. So I continued to push the pace to see what I could do. I was zone 4 pretty much the entire 1000 meters. As I neared the last 200 meters I tried to pick it up cause the guy that had been drafting off me the entire time was trying to pass. I had nothing left. Picking up the effort only gave me a side stitch and made me want to vomit. He eventually got around me in the last 50 meters but oh well. If he had that much energy left at the end to sprint past me he clearly wasn't giving it his all. I, on the other hand, did. I decided at that point to get out of the water and take my prize for 2nd place female. (Woo hoo!) I'm totally not meaning to brag here, even though I am, but I am a consistently good swimmer. That makes me feel really good considering I've only been swimming since 2005.

So then I had a 45 minute break during which I drank a little Gatorade and chatted with my friends who had arrived to do the 4k swim. When it was our turn I lined up again for round two. I knew I needed to go out slowly otherwise I'd never make it through 4k. I took it nice and aerobic. At the end of the first loop, some joker who I'll call pink-capped-small-penis man was trying to start something with my husband who was about 100 meters ahead of me. Apparently the Skirt Chaser had passed him and this guy grabbed hold of his leg and pulled him under. SC told him where he could stick it which was about the time that I noticed the altercation. Pink-capped-small-penis man looked like he was about to take a swing at my guy (seriously? what are we, 5?) and about that time I start screaming. I think that ever since his accident last year, I am very overprotective of him. I worry that someone will kick his implant and cause him pain, or worse, break the bone again. But to pick a fight in the water is beyond dangerous. I don't think that people realize how easy it would be to drown someone without even necessarily intending to do so. I little bit of rage taken too far... scary. I'll get off my soap box, but Pink-capped-small-penis man, whoever you are: you should be ashamed of yourself and you should have been disqualified.

After that I might have picked up my pace a tad with the adrenaline and all. Second loop was uneventful. Third loop, my arms began their slow process of falling off. By 2500 meters, I was really feeling the fatigue. I think it is mostly because I haven't swum in a wetsuit since August. I reminded myself that I only had a mile to go. Easy peasy. When I hit the last loop I counted down the meters. Buoys were placed every 150 meters so my countdown went like this: 1000, 850, 700, 550, etc etc etc until finally I was in the last 50 meters. My stroke was so poor at this point that my deltoids were burning. (You are not supposed to use your deltoids when you swim, the effort should come from your lats. So that's how badly my stroke had broken down!) My husband was out of the water about 10 minutes ahead of me. He said he could see me, but convinced himself that it wasn't me because my stroke looked like shit! Once he realized it was me, he knew how tired I was.

All in all, it was a fantastic day. Got to see some friends I haven't seen in a while. Got to do an epic swim, actually tied for my longest swim ever! It was a beautiful day and all my friends who are getting ready for IM in 2 weeks were out there testing the waters. I can't wait to cheer them all on! I know I'll never do another distance like that without preparing. But, I feel like I'll be ready for my birthday swim in 5 weeks. Did I already mention my birthday swim plans? Well the secret is out. 100 x 100 = 10k Birthday Swim. That's 6.2 miles of swimming. I've got a few weeks left to wrap my head around that one. Yikes!!

DRT #1: Cave Creek Thriller

2010-11-04T17:43:00.001-07:00

I signed up for a Desert Runner Trail (DRT) series this winter staged by Aravaipa Running, a totally awesome group of folks in the local ultra scene. I am running a total of 5 races on different trails around the valley, varying in length from 25k - 32k. I thought it would be a good way to check out some new trails, which I might not be likely to do on my own given my propensity for getting lost. Also, I thought it would be a fun way to get some good run miles in over the winter. Keep my mileage up, but avoid the monotony of the roads. The first run was last weekend. I actually had to re-read my blog from last December to see which mistakes I repeated during this run.... there were several! Here's how it all went down:

Cave Creek Thriller 30k

We show up to said parking lot about an hour before the start, just in time to see the 50k runners take off. This is a new trail for me so I have no idea what I'm about to get into. What I do know is that we are running 3 x 10k loops. There is an aid station just over half way through, at about mile 4.

I make the decision to A) Run with handheld water bottle (See Mistake #4 from Trail 101, December 2009) and B) Run with a black T-shirt on (See Mistake #1 from Trail 101, December 2009). And though I did have the forethought to apply sunscreen underneath my black T, in anticipation of removing it, I neglected a few areas which I was reminded of when I jumped in the shower post race (See Mistake #2 from Trail 101, December 2009).

You might be asking yourself at this point if I have actually learned anything over the last year since I first began running trails. The answer is yes. I have learned not to worry about my time (I actually didn't even wear my Garmin) and I've learned to enjoy my surroundings in spite of my suffering.

So after an hour of chit chatting it's finally time to run. We line up loosely and at 8 AM someone says go, and we all charge across the timing mat. I'm doing OK, though my heart rate is way to high and I keep having to get over so other runners can pass me. Eventually we thin out and I'm all alone. The first 3 miles are pretty decent footing, though a bit rockier than the trail I'm used to. It's a lot of up and a little down. The 4th mile is a lot of down with some pretty terrible footing (like running through a rocky river bed) and I find I have to walk carefully to avoid twisting an ankle. Eventually I come upon the aid station. My bottle is still full at this point, so I grab a cup of Gatorade and keep moving. From the aid station to the finish is very runable, nice trail and a lot of downhill which is my personal fav. I cruise into transition after loop 1 in 1:12. About 5 minutes longer than what I was hoping for but I wasn't the least bit disappointed.

I peeled off my black T-shirt and tossed it into my gear bag, refilled my water bottle and took off again. This time, I tried to take it a little slower in the first two miles since I didn't have any other runners breathing down my neck. Around mile 2 or maybe just before (no Garmin so I actually have zero idea on distance) some mountain bikers warned me of a rattlesnake on the trail. The said they had marked the trail with orange tape so we'd know where to look. To be honest, there was no need for tape... I could hear the thing rattling from 50 meters off. It. Was. Pissed. It was coiled up on the right side of the trail with its tail rattling to beat the band. Thankfully, the guy running ahead of me let me catch up and we gave it a nice wide berth as we hiked up the hillside off trail to get around it. I survived my very first encounter with a rattlesnake. Of course after that I was convinced that there would be more so every time a hiker came from the other direction I'd ask how many snakes they had seen. The answer was always "none."

So at this point, I'm still feeling good, though my head is pounding from the heat. (I sooo do not tolerate heat well. I'm sure it didn't get above 85 all day but I was feelin' it nonetheless.) I started to feel a little low on sugar so I took my first gel. A few minutes later I was passing the aid station again and refilled my bottle, grabbed some Gatorade and kept pluggin' along. I enjoyed the last 2 1/2 mile again as I cruised into transition #2, finishing loop 2 in roughly 1:23. I knew this would be the toughest one to leave so I tried to be quick and not think about wanting to be finished. I refilled my bottle again, grabbed some salt capsules and a gel for the road. Off and running again.

The last loop would be my undoing. I was a bit slower going in the first 2 1/2 miles as my legs were now dead and I was tripping more frequently. I walked more of the uphills and tried to run the downs. Unfortunately, by mile 2 of the third loop (so mile 14 roughly) I had taken my last gel and was down to my last sip of water. I tried to ration my water a long as I could, but it was no use. My blood sugar was down. I was dehydrated. My head was still pounding. I was dizzy. I was bonking and the ship was sinking fast. I walked very slowly for about an hour before I finally came upon the aid station. I nearly cried. I had to sit down a few times when I thought I would pass out. I wanted my mommy. It was not pretty and I swear I will never make this mistake ever ever again. (I really mean it this time.)

When I stumbled into the aid station I shakily sat down in the volunteer's camp chair and the medic/ volunteer offered me some orange slices. I sat for about ten minutes while I took in water, Gatorade, oranges (lifesaver!!), bananas, and gummy worms. Once I felt like I could stand up without falling over, I started walking again. I was able to run quite a bit of the last 2 1/2 miles since it was a lot down hill, but after bonking like that, I wasn't feeling super strong anymore. It took me just under 2 hours to complete loop #3, a total of 4:33 for the entire 30k which is slow, but who the hell cares really? Not me. I still had fun. I still finished with a smile on my face. I still enjoyed my day.

Did I have some trials on the trail? You bet! But without a little suffering there is no reward. Would I still look at my finisher medal with as much pride if it had been easy? If it had been handed to me on a silver platter at the start line? No way. I earned that sucker. And every time I see it I'll remember my first rattlesnake, my second lesson in trail hydration strategies, and my three loops around Cave Creek Regional Park on a gorgeous Saturday in October.

All For One... One hundred miles that is...

2010-10-26T16:23:00.000-07:00

They drove up early on Friday afternoon, to stake out the perfect campsite. The weather was perfect. For the first time in 5 years, it was less than 100 degrees for this weekend in October. Mid 80s actually. Felt perfect and would make for an epic weekend of running. She'd never been so excited or nervous, at least not in a very long time. Maybe not since Ironman a year ago? The energy was pulsing through her veins and she needed to burn it off on the trail before dinner. DMB was with her, and they enjoyed a beautiful run on the Scenic Trail followed by dinner catered by PF Chang's for the runners and volunteers. They observed the calmness which seemed to descend over McDowell Mountain Park. Nothing like the scene of a triathlon, they thought. After dinner they were joined by the rest of the crew: KS, NS, TG, and AG. All prepared to camp out and be at his beck and call for 30+ hours. All with one goal. Get him through 100 miles. On foot.

Javelina Jundred, a 100 mile foot race, takes place on the weekend in October closest to the full moon. It happened to be last weekend and the moon was indeed full, and shone like a spotlight into the tent. Not that she could sleep anyway. Too nervous. Too scared. Too excited. This was unlike anything she had participated in, and she had no idea what to expect. When the alarm went off at 4:30 she had already been awake for hours. They quickly got dressed in warm clothes and headed to the "transition area" where the start line was set up and the aid station which would serve the athletes after each of the 7 loops on Pemberton Trail. Their shift started at 5 am. With the race start at 6 am, they had minimal responsibilities until about 8 am when the front runners would be passing through after the first loop. They took time to mingle and watch everyone, many in costume, chatting and gearing up for a long day.

He looked ready. He was quiet at first, but as he settled into the environment it was clear he was in his element. He was a social butterfly, and his costume (with fairy wings) seemed appropriate. He fit in well amongst the ultrarunners and they almost didn't recognize him. This friend who was a triathlete turned distance runner. He didn't possess the typical "Tri-Panic Disorder" that afflicts most in our group. He was calm. He knew what lay ahead of him and he was ready to tackle it, one mile at a time.

His crew, on the other hand, didn't know what to expect. Would he be overcome by fatigue and demand to quit? Would he want to nap? Would he complain? Would he become ill and be plagued by vomiting, dehydration or worse on the trail? Would he stop running? Only time would answer their questions. They knew with conviction their only task: keep him moving forward. Relentless forward progress.

Loop one came and went, he was smiling and took minimal time in transition to grab some food and was quickly on his way back out. They continued their duties at the aid station, refilling bottles and hydration packs. Offering food, electrolytes, soda. Before long he was cruising through at the end of loop two, continuing to look strong and right on pace. They wondered, when will this end? When will the wheels come off? At this point it was nearing 1 pm and their shift at the aid station was coming to an end. They grabbed a sandwich and headed back to camp to rest, knowing it would be a long night on the trail. They made sure they were back in transition ready to assist with a shoe change and blister management after loop 3. Loop four was tackled in the dusk and setting sun. From camp, the sunset was gorgeous and she wondered if he was enjoying it on the trail or if he was immune to it, focused solely on forward motion.

Shortly after sunset KS, NS and DMB headed to bed, trying to get a few hours of sleep before their turn pacing. She had the first shift and knew if she laid down now, she would be sleepy when her shift started. AG and TG offered to sit by the fire and keep her company as they watched the race continue to unfold. Now it was dark, and people were starting to drop out in larger numbers, not wanting to run though the night alone. It was a mental game, she was sure. He came cruising in right on schedule and looked great. He swung by the medical tent to have the blister lanced and taped. She stood nervously by with her pack on, ready to run. He said his IT band was giving him problems and they'd be doing a lot of power walking. OK by me, she said. They headed out into the darkness of the trail with headlamps shining.

It was quiet. His power walk was a fast pace- roughly 17-18 minutes per mile. She worked up a sweat within a mile and had to start peeling off layers. They talked a little but mostly he was quiet. She didn't want to annoy him with chatter so she let him set the tone, trying to keep the conversation light. She had expected him to feel worse, to need prodding. That's what she's good at. Now she was feeling useless. He didn't need her. He apologized that she wasn't getting to run. She tried to assure him that she didn't come here to run. She came to be with him and help him reach his goal. They continued on in the darkness.

Without warning, he took off running. Fast. She tried to keep pace but he kept pulling farther and farther away. Great, she thought, if he keeps this up I'm going to have to phone ahead to KS and tell her to get out there to meet him for the next loop. She was embarrassed. At mile 70 of the race, she had been dropped by her runner. And she only had 8 miles on her legs! She was flying by people in hot pursuit of him, to no avail. Soon enough, he slowed to a walk again and she caught up with him. Dude, do you realize you just dropped a 7:30 mile?, she asked him. He thought he was running a 10 minute pace. You don't need me, she said, I hope I'm not annoying you. He said he was glad she was there, that he didn't want to run all night alone. She smiled. Now she was going to have to pay attention and be ready when he felt like running.

Just before the second aid station, they started on the gradual descent which would take them across the last 10k of the loop. Every now and then he would start running, a nice easy pace. When he was serious, she saw him put his ear buds in, that's when she knew she better hang on for the ride. Luckily her legs were warmed up now, and she could keep up with him when he decided to drop the hammer. In between, they would walk. No longer a power walk, but continued forward motion. They talked a little, but mostly listened to their breathing and footfalls. He said his feet were starting to hurt a little. A little?, she thought. She assured him that 75 miles into a run it was probably normal. She didn't want him to dwell on the discomfort so she changed the subject.

With a mile to go, she texted KS to be ready to run. They ran into transition and he sat down long enough to refill his hydration pack and take in a few calories. She assured the next pacer that he was doing well and was running strong. Her lap was 4:05. It was 1 am. She was exhausted, having been awake for almost 24 hours. She wanted to keep running with him but knew it wouldn't be fair. Everyone wanted a turn. She never felt needed, useful. Where did he get this positive, zen attitude?, she wondered. She wanted to watch him run, clearly in his element. Walking back to the campsite she smiled at things they had talked about on the trail. He had been completely coherent, but he struggled to find words and his speech was the slightest bit slurred. He stumbled a few times over rocks, but then again, so had she. She worried about him, but not whether or not he was going to make it. Without changing from her running clothes, she zipped into her sleeping bag and feel into a deep sleep.

Two hours later, she was awake again and looking at the clock. 3 am. DMB would be getting up at 4 to eat and get ready for her turn pacing. She tried to sleep but her mind wandered to the trail. It was dark. Are they running? Power walking? Is he still feeling as strong? What are they talking about? Where are they? Is everything OK? NS was getting text message updates from the trail, and KS was predicting a five am transition. She jumped out of bed. She wanted to be there, to help out. AG made coffee and she made a PB & J sandwich for breakfast. They walked down to the transition area and watched as runners continued to come through. By now, most of the ones that were going to drop out had already done so. There would be more that didn't make the time cutoffs. But they were impressed with the positive attitudes that everyone exuded. It was truly an amazing thing to witness.

5 am came and went. And slowly the sky began to lighten as the clock ticked closer and closer to 6 am. DMB would pace, and TG, who had been crewing and volunteering for 24 hours wanted some time on the trail so she planned to head out with them for the final 9 miles. They watched the trail and soon they saw the pink tutu and fairy wings. He was running and still looking strong despite a slow 6th loop. His feet were hurting more. He had stopped to stretch and rub his feet a few times. With 92 miles done, he had just a few hours left. Months and months of preparation led to this moment. This one night. These few short hours. They headed off down the trail, with the sun rising to their left casting a beautiful glow on the mountains to the right.

With nothing left but a few hours to kill, they tore down camp. They collapsed their crew headquarters and carried all of his belongings back to the van. They packed up their bags and took down the tents. She anxiously watched the clock. She was excited. He had done it. He set this goal months ago, and put the hours into training and preparation. She had never seen him so calm, and mentally tough. They walked out to the last road crossing, where they would meet him to run the last 1/4 mile to the finish as a team. He had done all the work. They were just there to make sure he stayed on track and had everything he needed. With minutes to go before 9 am, they saw the three running over the last few rolling hills. DMB in the lead, and TG pulling up the rear, they kept him safely in the middle. She snapped photos and cheered and as they came cruising by, they let him take the lead and the six of them followed him the last few steps over the course.

He was in a zone, exhausted, fatigued. He had given everything he had, and left it all out on the trail. There were cheers from the crew. We're so proud of you, they told him. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. Never before had she witnessed such pure determination and perseverance. This was different. This was grit, and a kind of mental toughness that surpassed anything that had ever been required of her. To run and walk for nearly 27 hours, without stopping. Without complaining. Alone. She was amazed. She never doubted that he could do it, but she hadn't believed he would do it with such grace. She waited her turn to hug him, and tell him how proud she was of him. It would be 24 hours before she would stop feeling like crying every time she thought about his accomplishment.

They went to breakfast to celebrate and then he collapsed into the back of the van for the drive home. She worried that he would fall asleep and not drink enough water. She worried that he wouldn't feel like eating and his muscles would cramp. She wanted to protect him. To help him. But he didn't need her. He was successful. She would remember that the next time she set a goal. She knew what it looked like, now, to give that kind of effort. She wanted to feel that kind of exhilaration and pride. She will taste victory again. But this one was his.