Wake up, wake up, wake up - it's the first of the month
Bone Thugs-n-Harmony
It was a gorgeous morning at the lake today - a great day to splash'n'dash.
Marathon season starts in about 3 weeks, so I'm on maintenance right now. I got up and rolled on down to Lucky's Lake and swam a kilometer, then dashed off for a 2-mile run. Nothing special, just keeping things moving.
During a run, I always think about the most random stuff. I'll be honest: a lot of the time I worry about how socially awkward I can be and wish I hadn't said some of the oddball shit that comes out of my mouth. I don't worry about important things, like the fact that the doctor still hasn't given me my scan results, or that dad now needs a defibrillator, or that Mom has 5 more months of chemo. You'd think I'd worry about things that matter, but no - I worry about things I say and What People Think About Me.
So I got to thinking about dumb stuff I said last night. Mind you, it was nothing earth-shattering - just odd and awkward. But for some reason I caught myself going, why did you say that? that was so stupid.
And that's when I looked down at my arm.
The butterfly symbolizes my missing thyroid and the inscription reminds me not to obsess over what's already done. Say what you want about tattoos, this one has really served its purpose.
Never look back, huh.
Ok.
I'll look forward.
What kinda day is this going to be?
A great one. Duh.
Ok, let's go forward and make it happen.
(How can you not when you wake up to this little face?)
This is what a happy finisher looks like. Three of them, no less.
Saying I had fun at Rocketman last weekend is a gross underestimate. I had a freakin' BLAST! There were a giant group of us pre- and post-race. Riding past the launchpads and Vehicle Assembly Building at the Kennedy Space Center was super cool. And - despite a windy bike course and being off my swim pace by 20 seconds, my bike pace by 1mph or so, and my run by over 1 minute per mile, I felt great on the swim, bike, and run - and despite sloppy transitions, I felt speedy.
When I saw my final time, I was bummed about being off my paces when I felt so damn GOOD.
Until I realized that 4 out of the top 10 women were from my age group.
And I ended up 7th out of 35 of those women and 28th out of all 230+ women on the short course.
Being 7th in a bigger, fast field like that made me feel more accomplished than last year when I placed 5th or my top-3 Athena finishes. And this year I still weigh Athena weight with a very full belly and heavy clothes on. It got me thinking that maybe I'll change my "A" race from a small field where I stand a good chance of placing for the 3rd or 4th time to a bigger race where I can enjoy new sights and some challenges.
Because, in the end, it was rising to the challenges that made me happy.
High fun level: check
Decent performance on a pretty tough course: check
Decent finish time - or at the very least, good attitude about it: check
A respectable placing was just a bonus at this point.
Fast forward to today . . . . . .
This morning's brick made me think back and realize that I am aging up next year. Which makes this the second time I've aged up.
Which means I have now been tri-athl-ing for almost 10 years.
And THAT made me think about all the things I've learned (or not) since 2006 when I first started this crazy stuff.
So, without further adieu, some of my reflections on a near-decade of triathlon.
I started this sport thinking that BETTER meant MORE. I thought completing an Ironman would make me super accomplished. Now I have zero problem telling people I like the short courses when I'm asked about what distances I do. I get to do my favorite distance triathlon during one part of the year and still work towards my 50 states/Boston marathon goal. Win-win.
I used to think I'd never finish a marathon. Then it took me almost 7 hours to finish one. Now I'm trying to do one in every state and/or qualify for Boston in 5 years.
Although it's how I originally started in triathlon, I still have no desire to do Ironman.
I used to obsess about split times, nutrition, gear, my race checklist. No more. I make a list, I check it, I pack it. I review my results once or twice and move on. I'm not getting paid to do this. I do it for fun and fitness.
You don't have to get faster every year to improve. I used to finish in the bottomest bottom of the pack. I had years where I did a little better and years where I did a little worse. I didn't get better every single race or every single year. It took me 8 years to regularly finish in the front of the pack. And HERE IS THE CRAZY PART: I have WAY more fun now. I don't have more fun because I'm faster - no, I have MORE FUN because I realize that I am so lucky to be able to have a hobby that keeps me fit and healthy and that I get stronger every year. And I think obsessing about it less leads to better race performance, too.
On that note. There are a LOT of people who take this sport very seriously. And that is ok for them, but not me. I made a pact to NEVER take myself too seriously, even if I some day got fast enough to win things, or BQ. I'm dancing barefoot through the crowds while setting up transition. I'm telling dirty jokes with my friends while we get ready to swim. I don't need to frown all race long, refuse to giggle on race weekend, wear special gear to check my bike, drink special things like Recoverade or GoFasterIte all week before a race, or eat solely Organicz FuFu JuJu Bars in order to eat healthy, recover well, and train right. Again, if other people like to do that, that is completely ok, but I prefer the balance of an average healthy diet and a decent training plan so that I can still giggle on race weekend. And that's something I refuse to stop. (The giggling part).
So I've learned not to compare myself too much to others. Of course, this is hard in a sport where we get to see our rankings almost instantly upon finishing, but you never know what injuries, illnesses, and personal demons other people are fighting, and vice versa. The person who beat you by 7 minutes? Maybe they are their own boss and make their own schedule so they can train whenever they want; maybe they have NO illnesses to speak of and; maybe their funds are less limited than yours; maybe someone paid their race entry fee or loaned them that $5,000 bike; etc. It doesn't matter; you race your own race. No matter what happens out there, it's YOU versus YOU.
I've learned that the key to good times at a race is not training crazy high mileage, nor is the key to being injury-free training crazy LOW mileage. The key to both is being consistent.
Strong is the new skinny. Yes, I've lost weight as my thyroid hormone has improved and I have consistently trained. But I still look like ass in a spandex. I'm still not the tiniest chick out there. I just feel happy about what my body is able to do. In fact, sometimes I feel happier about what I'm able to do in SPITE of being larger than my fellow age groupers.
I'd like to add something to round this out to an even 10, but I think that's all I've got. And, considering I'm not quite to 10 years of triathlon, we'll leave this at a list of not-quite-ten reflections.
The start of the ride - I'm in the red jersey and my friend is in the green
I was so excited for Sunday’s 77-mile Tour de Cure ride. The weather looked perfect . I was ready to see my favorite cycling people. I raised my $500 goal for the American Diabetes Association. And my weight and blood glucose were the lowest they’d been in . . . well, years.
And then it happened.
As I was checking my tire pressure and taking my bike off the car, I realized that my chain had come off.
On the morning of my last charity ride, Ride4Ronald 2011, I dropped my chain. And I proceeded to complete the ride – with no injuries, despite a pretty bad crash and a tangle with the saddle sores from hell.
So, this ominous chain-dropping could only mean that badassery was about to commence.
Or something like that.
There were so many groups I could have ridden with, but from the very beginning I got thrown to the front of the group with the crazy fast people. You know, the same guys I follow on the Murdolator rides and try not to get thrown off their back wheels (but always fail). They were doing their 28-mile pace. At the start of a 102-mile ride.
WTF are these guys on?!!?
How in the HELL am I going to ride 77 miles at this pace?!!?
5 miles, 10 miles, 20 miles passed. I kept thinking I would eventually get dropped back with my other friends.
But – and this is something you know if you’ve done a lot of group rides – I couldn’t get off the train. It was like being sucked into a whirling vortex of whoosh. “You might as well face it,” yelled my cycling mentor from the front of the vortex. “You’re in with the group that’s doing 100, so you’re doing 100.”
She had to be wrong.
My legs yelled at me. I recovered. My heart rate complained. I recovered. We passed the first SAG stop. I looked down at my computer and it cackled at me: Hehehehe, 22 mph! You can’t do that for 100 miles, you silly bitch. You can’t even do it for 77!
Side note: when did that damn thing get so mean?
Where is the turn for the 77-mile ride? And where are my less-crazy friends who don’t want to whoosh for 102 miles?
How in the HELL am I going to ride 77 miles at this pace?!!?
Wait a second. There are some other cyclists going straight when we went left. Did they just make a wrong turn?
Nope. I was the one making the wrong turn. I was on the 102-mile route, which did not re-join the 77, the 62, or the 50, until the very end of the ride.
Holy crap.
Judi was right.
I had been sucked into the whirling vortex of whoosh and there was no getting out.
Gulp.
I had suspected I'd get roped into riding the entire 100 by two of the guys I ride with (which I could have fought), not by accident.
How in the HELL am I going to ride 102miles at this pace?!!?
And, from out of nowhere, a little voice in my head whispered these seven words: you’re so much stronger than you know.
But I wasn’t ready to believe it.
Sometimes when I ride hard, my left knee gets kind of tweaked. And I was not riding easy, so by mile 30 the knee was SCREAMING. It felt like it needed to be stretched really good, so I spent miles 38 through 50 trying to relax it. Around mile 55 I was able to take some ibuprofen, stretch and get some solid food and I was back to normal.
Then it dawned on me. I only have 45 miles left.
That’s like, my regular Sunday ride.
I got this.
I’m tired, but I got this.
It started getting windy. And I lost track of how many more times I thought to myself, oh my God, I am going to bonk and get left out here to fight this wind alone.
But I didn’t. Every time I’d feel like I was going to lose the group, I would push a little, stay on, and recover. The voice in my head kept saying you’re so much stronger than you know. By this time it had totally replaced the one asking how in the HELL am I going to ride 102 miles at this pace?!!?
You’re so much stronger than you know.
You’re so much stronger than you know.
You’re so much stronger than you know.
The bonk I expected? It came. But my riding partners were so steady and measured in their cadence and pace that it didn’t come until mile 100-101, and by then all that was left was to bring it home.
I was feeling a little queasy, but I’d just ridden 102 miles.
At almost 20 mph.
I'd beaten my first century by an HOUR - I was 3.6 miles per HOUR faster.
You couldn’t STOP my swagger.
Back to reality and the workweek, and three things became evident: one is that I had inadvertently used my own personal no-fail strategy of undertraining. My body responds very well to it. I usually work out a good bit less than my peers training for similar events, and it always spells success for me on the day of the event. I have fewer injuries and I feel mentally fresher.
The other is that, if I can go that hard for 102 miles, maybe I am not pushing myself hard enough for short rides. So I need to start addressing that.
And the final lesson I took away from my Accidental Century was this: in life, as in training, there will always be rough spots. The more we experience them, the more we learn the difference between when to push through them and when to give up. My goal now is to look at every challenge thrown my way when I’m NOT on the bike, and remind myself:
1. The only way through it is through it
2. You’re so much stronger than you know
Instead of song lyrics this week, I’m leaving you with some words from Muhammad Ali. May your will always be stronger than your skill.
"Champions aren't made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them A desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have last-minute stamina, they have to be a little faster, they have to have the skill and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill." – Muhammad Ali
Recap: last year I gave up FB for Lent, or the Greater Good, or in the interest of restraint, or whatever you believe. I stepped back from what everyone else was doing or talking about doing and just got busy living my own life. I didn't even post blog updates to my personal FB (this was before I had a fan page where I could separate MAJ life from Elephant life.) Then I came back after several weeks and reconnected with everyone.
It was really nice.
I am saying this in advance: I will do it again this year. I'm getting to the point where I'm feeling over-connected, over-exposed, and - well - a bit frazzled.
So, now that you're warned. :-)
Today was just about the perfect day in MAJ's world. This morning I rode an amazing 40-something miles, including covering the course of the crit I'll probably do Sunday, at the highest pace I've maintained yet in a group (at least for 28 of it), then came home and worked on grades. I even got most of my grades DONE. Then, when my brain got full of grades, I went to hot yoga. Nothing like 90 minutes of ass-kicking strength/stretch work in a 90-degree room.
While lying in shivasana, I found myself praying that I could bring that sense of peace to my work day, to my exam for my students tomorrow night, to my relationship. And I also realized something really super excellent: I have finally gotten to the point of my life where fitness has become such a habit, like breathing or showering or brushing my teeth - such a routine - that I crave it and look forward to it. I look forward to the challenege, the pain, the sweat, or just the feeling of the wind on my face. Sometimes I'm tired and I take a rest day, or just go easy.
But I never, ever find myself going oh, God, I don't want to work out today.
It's more like, let me do whatever I can, because it will make me feel better.
I also realized this: the reason I love to swim, bike, om, and run - and it's the same reason I don't do zumba, or step class, or the ellpitical, or boot camp, or body pump, or even the acclaimed CrossFit - they just don't put me in touch with something else in the universe the way yoga practice or being outdoors always does. I've done variations of them all, but none of them help me feel connected to something greater than myself.
Swimming does - it's the sound of the splash, the briskness of the water when it's cool, the liquid bathing me. Running does - it's the rustle in leaves, the feeling of my arms moving and feet soundly contacting with the ground. Riding does - it's the woosh of the air going by me, that harmonious hum of tires on pavement, the feeling of my cleats sliding firmly into my pedals. And yoga? Sometimes yoga even forces me to dig down deep - or even get outside of myself, of the clanging constantly going on in my head - and face my not-so-pretty parts.
Good days, bad days - it doesn't matter. These all make me feel alive and energized and happy, and I feel more completely like myself than in many other places in my life. I couldn't ever JUST run, JUST ride, or JUST swim, or JUST practice yoga. I love them all.
It is no longer about how many pounds I can lose or sizes I can drop. It isn't about how my biceps look, and sometimes it isn't even about the times I post. I've almost reduced my attachment to that, too. Yep, I still have goals I want to make, but I know if I just keep working, I'll reach them. (Example: I did that first road race weeks ago and I didn't even look at the results until today.) Sure, I have days where I hate photos of myself, or just feel chunky. But now, I don't worry about those things as much as I worry about getting strong - and stronger - and feeling myself open up and connect to the people, places, and just the world in general that my favorite sports help me reach.
I know some people still look at me and think, there's no way she works out as much as she does. Or: she must not be eating right. I no longer mind being the person people underestimate. Not everyone has to get it, or agree with me, because I respect whatever makes them feel whole, too. I'm just going to keep doing what I love. Keep swimming, keep cycling, keep running, keep practicing yoga when I can, and keep trying to be as nice as I can be to people around me. And anyone who doesn't like it can kiss my asana.
So I got to thinking about dumb stuff I said last night. Mind you, it was nothing earth-shattering - just odd and awkward. But for some reason I caught myself going, why did you say that? that was so stupid.
