I Just Kept Running like Gump - The 2011 Rock'n'Roll Savannah AND IronMAJ FINISH Race Report

IronMAJ

If you haven't guessed by now, the IronMAJ is over.   Complete.  Kaput.  Finished. 

I won.

Savannah

I mean "I won," not just in the sense that I finished, but in the sense that I somehow managed to rack up a 43-minute PR at my second marathon of the year, even after century training and iron-distance swim training for months.

But first, let's begin at the beginning.

PACKING LIGHT and TYPE A-NESS

Before this race even started, there were a lot of things going on in my life that suggested I wouldn't be able to perform well.  The drive from Orlando to Savannah was miserable - for the last few weeks, I've been having debilitating bouts of fatigue and dizziness from my vertigo and migraines.  I was so exhausted on Friday that I had to nap twice, once during the drive when I had to turn the wheel over to Blake.  I am not saying that I was sleepy, or tired.  No, I was physically incapable of operating a vehicle.  And that was scary - how the hell was I going to run 26.2 miles in that condition?!!?

Savannah

Once we arrived in Savannah, we realized that the city hadn't prepared for the 23,000 participants flooding its convention center, and we spent almost an hour just getting to packet pickup (let alone perusing the expo and getting the packet itself).  Dinner was delayed, and I was setting out my race gear with the fear of getting to bed extremely late.  Nothing was running by my tightly organized plan. 

That is where the wheels usually fall off the wagon for me.  My type A-ness takes over and I flip out, certain that impending disaster is indicated by the disorganization and chaos around me.

Instead, this is where I let go.  I looked at B, looked at the race gear, and said "You know what.  Tomorrow is going to go the way it is going to go regardless of how much I freak out about it tonight."

Me and the B

So I stopped freaking out.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling

It was a good thing, because the buses taking us to the start line were also not as organized as they could have been, and I didn't get to the start line until 51 minutes after the race had started.  Thankfully, I wasn't the only one.  Everyone had gotten there at the wrong time, so instead of sending us out by projected finish times, they sent us off by crowds as we arrived.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling

Even with this minor setback, I couldn't stop smiling.  I mean, I was smiling SO HARD when I asked the B to snap this pic of me with his phone that I was almost in tears.  I was about to DO this Damn Thing.  Finish the IronMAJ.  Rock'n'Roll Savannah.  Go into the off season.  And PR.  By how much, I wasn't sure.  And when I looked ahead on the Bay Street bridge at mile 2 and saw the wave of people so deep that it looked like they weren't even moving ahead of me, I did momentarily freak out that I'd have to slow down a lot.  But they were moving - there were just oceans of them - and at that moment I felt like a part of something real, amazing, and so much bigger than me.  So I kept smiling.

Somewhere around mile 8

I had divided my race into 3rds by 8.7-mile section. My strategy was to run each section progressively harder by heart rate zone, with an extremely conservative first 2/3 pace.  This was difficult and frightening, because I kept feeling like I could be pushing so much harder, and every time I passed a milestone (5k, 5mile, etc) I looked down at my Garmin and thought "Oh my God, I'm going to run this slower than ever!" 

But, when I realized that my Garmin was repeatedly showing me a pace almost 2 minutes per mile faster than I ran New Orleans, and when I realized how great I was feeling, I just kept smiling.  And running.

AMAZING City

What a charming city.  It is ironic that I chose this as my second  marathon, since it is the sister city to New Orleans, where I ran my first.  Both courses were incredibly flat and fast, even flatter and faster than Orlando, which is damn near below sea level. 

The spectators were AMAZING.  Everyone was out in their yards, on the streets, yelling "good morning!"  My morale was sky-high through the first third of the race.  Bands were great, weather was perfect, and I felt amazing.  I stopped around mile 10 for the porta-potty - shortest line I had seen all race - and had a great conversation with some locals.

Water, water everywhere

There was another problem, though . . .  almost every station was out of Cytomax.  I got water at every stop and had salt pills, so hydration wasn't an issue.  What was an issue, however, was calories.  I was packing it super light with only 2 <200-calorie packs of Honey Stinger chews.  And in the backof my head I found myself wondering, how the hell am I going to run 26.2 miles on less than 400 calories of drink and chews?

But I made like Forrest Gump and just kept running. 

I pushed back the nagging thought that I may bonk soon.  I was nearing my final third and I still felt amazing.  It was hard to hold back, but I had so much left to give, so I played it safe and followed my strategy. 

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:50 or less.

Don't Apologize; Your Friends Don't Need it and Your Enemies Won't Believe It

We all know that I'm a philosophizing marathoner.  Around the tree-lined streets of  Daffin Park we went, and a lady passed between me and a fellow marathoner abruptly.  "I'm sorry," she called as she went by.  The male marathoner responded with something I will never forget: "Don't apologize. Your friends don't need it and your enemies won't believe it."

Huh.  He is kind of right, I thought.  There's no need to apologize for yourself if you're really not doing anything wrong.  Wonder how my life would change if I stopped apologizing for being who I am?

I kept smiling. By now it was mile 15 or 16.   And when I saw the entrance to "Optimist Park" in front of me, I decided to quit worrying about calories.  "The question is not whether you're going to finish this, IronMAJ," I thought to myself (and may have muttered outloud).  "The question is not whether you are going to PR.  The question is how bad do you want it?"

At this point I realized that. not only was I going to break 6 hours, I was going to do it feeling GREAT, and by a LOT.

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:40 or less.

I texted B that I was on the final third and stopping for a potty break again.  I had been telling myself all race that I'd get to turn it loose eventually, but now it really was just about time to turn it loose up in this bitch.

Turn it Loose

At this point of a marathon I'm usually dying. There are 10 miles left to run. People around me are starting to walk, bonk, and fade. 

But I still felt like I owned the world.  

I looked down at my Garmin again and realized I was no longer running way slower than I hoped, but instead I was lighting the soles of my shoes on fire.  I was not even at 4 hours, and mile 18 was gone.  This was faster than my training runs and I had way more OOMPH left in me.  It was time for me to stop holding back and go into my final-third strategy of the race and I was already so quick and felt so good.  I couldn't believe it.

I just kept running.  I did realize my muscles were fatigued, but I had so much more to give the race.  I never stopped unless the stops were planned.  I pushed my pace up another minute per mile and thought, at mile 20 if I am still strong I can run the final 10k near lactate threshold.

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:30.

Mile 20 came quickly, and I decided to hold off until 23-24 to hit my highest heart rate zone, but I was still sailing past people who were stopping to walk, and I was still getting faster.  I had started the race at an almost 13-minute pace and I was now logging something like an 11 or 11:30.

Last 200 yards

I saw the 40k mark and shook my head - no way could you get me to do an ultramarathon.  And, just then, the blister that always appears on my left pinky toe POPPED ceremoniously.  This happened in New Orleans, but back around mile 20-22.  Of course, I was much slower in New Orleans, so I was already at mile 25+ here in Savannah.  I can't begin to describe the pain to you, but I didn't stop.    I let myself slow to 12/mile to absorb the pain, and then when I saw the 26-mile marker I was so happy I didn't care any more.

My aunt cheeering for me at the finish

So I just kept running.

I looked down at my watch.  If I brought this in strong, I was going to be in the 5:30s with no problem.  And I STILL COULDN'T STOP SMILING.

So that's exactly what I did, and crossed the line in 5:35:58, with the freshest legs I've ever had during a marathon, and - no doubt - the biggest smile.

So now I have to design myself an IronMAJ medal with a little elephant and a MAJ-dot instead of an M-Dot.

Ok, so maybe I won't do that.  Maybe I'll just go into the off-season with a giant smile on my face.

Florida 70.3 has no idea what's headed its way this coming May.

Bag Lady

Bag lady, you gon' hurt your back
Draggin' all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold onto
Is you, is you, is you
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
I said
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
So
Pack light . . .

(Erykah Badu, Bag Lady)

There's something to be said for packing light.    (Of course, I doubt Erykah Badu was thinking about marathon racing when she recorded the song.)  There's less to worry about.  There's less chafing.  There's less to lose. 

I've always hated carrying and wearing a lot of junk; that's why I dress so light for races with 28-degree weather.  But nutrition and health supplies were a different story. I needed a pack of chews per hour, ibuprofen, my inhaler, an armband with my cell phone.  At the beginning of a race, it was always a struggle to find a place to stick the bags of chews so they wouldn't bounce uproariously across my back and ass.  I almost felt like I had to wear a second bra for my bouncing back-boobs. 

Another line in the Badu song says, "bag lady, you gon' miss your bus. You can't hurrry up - 'cause you got too much stuff." 

And that's one of the reasons that things are a lot different this time.  I want to go faster.  I want to learn how to really race a marathon.

So this is going to be the lightest I've ever traveled on marathon day.  I may leave my inhaler in my emergency bag with the B, because the highs that day are in the 70's, and I'm not likely to have an attack.  I don't need many chews because I've been training on Cytomax, water, and salt pills (Cytomax is on the course, and I never even used a full pack of chews on an 18-mile run).  And I am debating leaving my phone behind, as well.

But the biggest benefit of training like this has nothing to do with speed.  Almost every time I've gone out to run the last few weeks, I have felt so . . .well . . . free.  I want to feel that way all marathon long.

Unlike racing, I am actually comfortable padding my days with more STUFF.   More to do, more to say, more to wear, more to think, more to feel, more to eat. 

Oh, crap - I am just like the girl Badu wrote that song about.
This got me thinking: how free would I feel if I could learn to pack light?  To enjoy everything else in my life the way I enjoy running, riding, and swimming - just for what it is?  to be completely involved in the moment - the sun (or rain), the wind, the sky, the ground, the feeling of the keys under my fingers or the fan on my back - how free would that feel?

I have been completely saturated with the stress of all the different duties I've adopted lately as grad school approaches.  It has made me feel overwhelmed and insecure at times.  I have to force myself to remember that it's all what I want to do.  But the frustration and fear that I won't - or can't - do it still creeps in from time to time.

"Girl, I know
sometimes it's hard ,and you can't let go . . ."

The point of Badu's song is simple and obvious: carrying around all your old crap keeps you from moving forward.  I can do that in a marathon, and gladly, to endure 26.2 miles of discomfort - with a smile.  It's time to do it in my real life, too.

So here's to moving forward. 

Here's to packing light.

The other side of the IronMAJ

And so I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
Knowing I can swim deeper than the grim reaper
And ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
When the water swallows me and not the other way around . . .  .
Buck65

I wouldn't call myself agnostic, but the lyrics to this Buck65 song largely describe my attitude toward this part of my life.  It's all about how I got "here" from "there" and being ready for whatever mysteries await.

So.

The IronMAJ (and MAJ myself) is really like a coin.  All the bloggy world ever really sees is one side:  the training side.  Every now and then, I like to show the "everything else" side.  I'm not sure if this is "NOW" or  "THEN" but there're a lot to talk about that are not specifically related to racing or training.  I have alluded to "news" outside training, so today seems like a good day to break it down.

The nerves in my inner ear are excessively sensitive
 and my Eustachian tubes constantly feel "full,"
which cause ringing and fullness in my ears
daly and, less  frequently, severe dizziness that
causes nausea and falls. They think it might be
Meniere's disease.

As I've mentioned, I have several issues that cause me to get extremely dizzy (lots of fun while swimming) and sometimes fall (lots of fun while walking).  Some of the symptoms bother me every day, and some don't bother me for months.  It's hard to tell how to treat the "spells," because they could come from 1 of 4 separate conditions. I have migraine and vertigo medicine if I need it, but sleep is usually the best remedy.

So, I spent a lot of this weekend sleeping.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking.


The IronMAJ is only one of the milestones I've been training for this year.  I'm also collecting my materials to apply to PhD programs.  It's going to cost me a small fortune and the rest of the year, but I've been occupied with planning for the past year as I have been involved in anywhere from 1-2 teaching assistantships and a few research assistantships every semester.   In the past few weeks, though, that activity level has escalated as I prepare for the approaching application deadlines.  I've narrowed down my choices to 5 of the top programs in my field.  I've agreed to be on the PR committee for my professional conference.  I'm working on my first "real" research proposal.  Outside of training, my days have been a blur of meetings with key players in my field, searches of possible references for my proposal.  Finally, I'm auditing a class I already took to brush up on my skills, and I'm studying to take the GRE again.

I almost feel like my body threw me for a spin to force me to spend a day doing nothing.

Of course, once I get in (fingers crossed) to a program, the hard work really begins.  Everything about my life, from my schedule to my salary and possibly even my city of residence, will change for the next 5 years.  Much of what I have done has prepared me for these changes, but it will still be a shock.

While I admit it does get overwhelming from time to time, this is the closest thing I've ever done to what I really want to do.  Most of my adult life I have wanted to earn my PhD so I can teach and do research.  The idea that I be able to do this for my job, is both foreign and welcome, as is the idea that finally doing it may actually provide a much-needed break in workload (as being a PhD student is only 1.5 full-time jobs, not 3).
Once the IronMAJ is done, there's a lot of work on the other side of the coin before 70.3 and crit training begin.  But I'm ready for whatever sea creatures may abound when the water swallows me and not the other way around.

This one's for you. (And by you, I mean ME)

Music my ass

No thanks to my spare phone, the Motorla Q9m, I did my long run today. (No thanks because, despite being called the QMUSIC, this phone doesn't take a standard headphone and I had to spend $30 and search endlessly for a headphone with BOTH a mic AND a jack to convert to 2.5mm.)  BUT there's no way I was running that long without music.  I may be minimalist when it comes to my running clothes, but I really need my tunes and my heart rate monitor.

There is a lot going on in the Land of MAJ. 18 miles and 4 hours of running solo gives you lots of shit to think about.  I did spend most of this time visualizing a giant PR and the successful finish of the
IRONMAJ.  But there was a lot of other stuff, too.

So, to be kind to those of you who are kind enough to read my babbling, I'm going to break this down into 3 parts.

Part 1: Things I've Learned From My Best (and Worst) Long Runs
Part 2: This One's For You (and by you, I mean ME)
Part 3: Um, I kind of forgot what part 3 was.  Get back to me on that. 

Part 1

Things I've Learned From My Best (and Worst) Long Runs

The very most important of all: you have to make your training work for you.  For years, I was a marathoner that never got up super early.  My lifestyle wasn't conducive to 5am wakeup calls when I was very ill, so I never got up that early to train.  Now it does, and I can train with others, so I do.

Lube up

Hydrate early.  Better to do this than to find yourself dying of thirst 3 hours in.

Pacing is important.  26.2 miles is a long way.  If you don't respect the distance, learn your pace and learn through training what your body will do over distance, you will either a)implode, b)hurt yourself, c)DNF, or D)hate life so bad you'll never do a marathon again.  Or all of the above. 

Actually, that leads me to: 26.2 miles hurts.  Pretty much anything over 15 miles hurts.  The trick is to distinguish between good pain and bad pain.  Bad pain is injury and overuse; good pain is speed and endurance.

#3: Lube up

Chafing sucks.  Lube up.  When in doubt, add more lube.  Some of my girlfriends wear compression shorts like underwear even under skorts with compression shorts to prevent The Dreaded Chafe.  Oh, and never underestimate heat; you can sweat and chafe even going 5-6 miles.

I've seen people with belts looking like this for half marathons

When it comes to nutrition, less is more.  I  have seen runners who have so much to carry that they don't know what to do with it all on 10- to 13-mile race courses.  When I started doing marathons, I first went totally bare and basically carried nothing; then I went the other way and overpacked.  I'm learning that, if you are eating/drinking the right things, you don't have to have much of it.

I ran Philly at 28 degrees
and near-freezing rain
in a runningskirt, a long-sleeved
tee and a light vest.

Don't be this guy
(sorry if you are)

When it comes to clothing, less is more.  Running heats you up fast, and there's nothing more miserable than being hot and wet all race long.  I've never been a big fan of wearing a lot at races, but I've learned that you only really need knee pants or tights for the very, very coldest of races.

Part 2:

This One's For You (and by you, I mean ME)

When I ran the New Orleans Rock'n'Roll Marathon, I did it for the American Cancer Society.  It was my first charity marathon.   I also did my century this year for charity, although this wasn't my first charity cycling event.

Charity races are usually associated with total beginners who decide to take on their first race for a cause. I went the opposite way. . . did my own races for years and didn't dabble in charity until recently.  I can tell you, if you are a Speed Snob (and you know who you are) and you have never done a race for charity, you still ought to do one.  It is the best feeling in the world to do something good for others WHILE you do something good for YOU.

That being said . . . .

This year, I will confess that my marathon and that second medal I hope to wear are completely, 100%, for ME.  Not for anyone else.  It sounds extremely selfish, but I am just going out there to do what I can do for myself.

Racing is, after all, highly personal.  No matter how good you get, you're really only ever competing against yourself, unless you're lucky and good enough to be someone like Macca or Crowie or Chrissie or  Rinnie.

Part 3
 I remember this one after all.
 Even After 6 Years I am Still Kind of a Noob

There is still so much to learn about my sports.  I am still slower than most people.  I am still newer than most people, too - mostly because I trained completely alone for so much of my training and you learn so much from your partners. 

I just NOW moved from the old-school Polar Speed/Distance Heart Rate Monitor, which tracked my distance like a pedometer (and was always wrong), to the Garmin Forerunner 305, and that was only because one of my extremely generous and helpful tri mentors was kind enough to lend me her old one.  (Most of my training partners, including my Garmin Donor, have long been onto the 301XT.)

So there is always something new to learn, whether it's how to run with GPS, or how to not be a cycling leech, or how to dress for a marathon, or my next challenge, how to train for a crit, and that kinda makes me feel like I will always be a newbie.

And I don't know if that's a bad thing.

Anyway, I'm starved.  Burning somewhere between 1500 and 1800 calories will do that to ya.

Sweet 16

Today I ran my 16-miler.

Disclaimer: I am aware that coaching strategies differ from person to person, and from coach to coach, and from race to race, and from year to year.  I know that some plans advocate never going more than 18 miles for a long run, while some have you all the way up into the low 30's.

I am the one on the left

That being said, my strategy, which comes from people who know a shitload more about this stuff than lil' ol' me, has been to never run more than 4 hours in training, or sometimes even 3-3.5.  Because of my pace and training plans,  this means that my long run for marathon training has never exceeded 18 miles, 3-4 hours, or whatever came first.

In 2007, when training for Philly, I made it 18.  In 2008, when training for Melbourne, I don't even remember how long/short it was, but it was not very long (no shock that I ended that race at about mile 14 with ITB issues and disappointment that it was a 5-hour cutoff).  In 2009, when training for Disney, it ended up being 18 because my Polar footpod was not calibrated correctly and told me it was 20 :)  And then, last year, when training for  Rock'n'Roll Mardi Gras, it was 18 again.

Guess what it is again this year?

This week was my 16-miler.  Then next week, the 18.  Then, I officially "taper."  (Although I don't know that you could call what I do "tapering," considering that I always blend triathlon and marathon.)  The great Hal Higdon himself told me once that I was "serving two masters."  And, although he is 100% right, I have never had more fun (and cycling has definitely made me a stronger runner!)

When is this b*^ch gonna get to the point?!?

You know I never tell the Reader's Digest version of any story!


In any case . . . 

Today was the best 16-mile run I have EVER had.  This is not hyperbole.  It was the best 16-mile run of. my. life.  I ran 16 miles in under 3 hours and 30 minutes, I feel like I only ran 13, and I managed to squeak out an 8-10 minute/mile for the last mile.  The overall pace was 13 and change, which is the pace I want to maintain or exceed for the marathon.

I can already tell that this is going to be a marathon like no other.  When I say that, I'm not being specific.  It could be less painful, it could be more fun, it could be faster; I don't know.  I have no right to expect a PR in the midst of my other shenanigans *and* considering this is the 2nd mary of this year.  But, I do know that I have trained more consistently and at greater volume for the last year than I ever have before, and I know that my long runs feel better than ever before.  So, if that's any indication, it's gonna be BAD F*&#iNG ASS.

And it's not just 'cuz I supposedly get this SUPER SWEET additional medal for doing 2 RnR Marys in one year.  Hopefully, cause it's ultra-cool.

Goal vs Actual
I don't always hit my goal every week, but I love that
my training cycle mimics the plan and has some
periodization!

Finally, I pulled my goal vs. actual training for the past year and I noticed that, while I haven't always hit my goal, I have these things going for me:

1. Consistency.  The only weeks I've missed training were for mild injuries, illness and race recovery.
2. Speaking of recovery, I follow my plan(s).  I do a pretty good job for a not-too-educated amateur of periodization.  You can see by the peaks and valleys that I follow periods of build, taper, build, taper, (and even do much less overall) during the year.
3. Progress.  I have increased my training volume safely.

I hope that I am even closer to my goal and follow an even more predictable pattern next year.

Lots of great career stuff going on . . .  too much to mention!

In the meantime, IronMAJ is almost over.  Rock'n'Roll!

Limits Off!

I am a numbers geek.  I love to crunch them because I love to see the story they tell.    So I was looking over my total miles and hours trained for the summer . . . nothing overwhelming here, but definitely easy to see how the cycling and swimming took over as I trained for the century and the 2.5-mile swim., and then running started to ramp back up as I prepped for the marathon.



JUNE
Cycling: 127.20 Mi - 7h 55m 55s
Running: 29.27 Mi - 5h 50m 24s
Swimming: 13200.00 Yd - 5h 37m 47s
18.366 hours

JULY
Cycling: 271.64 Mi - 16h 12m 26s
Running: 20.46 Mi - 4h 13m 27s
Swimming: 11737.23 Yd - 5h 21m 58s
25.46 hours

AUGUST
Cycling: 395.00 Mi - 23h 21m 08s
Running: 23.74 Mi - 5h 11m 24s
Swimming: 22948.43 Yd - 10h 37m 39s
39.09 hours

SEPTEMBER
Cycling: 195.34 Mi -11h 55m 44s
Running: 50.63 Mi - 11h 08m 44s
Swimming: 10550.00 Yd - 4h 41m 53s
27.44 hours

I also did my first lactate threshold test in over a year.  I know, I know, you're supposed to do them every 4-5 weeks.  (Well, I know now.)   My lactate threshold went up 6 beats per minute this year and the time it took me to run 3 miles went from 45 minutes to 29.

We don't have this in Florida, but my parents'
house looks like this in fall.

As much progress as I made over the summer, I am SO glad fall is here.  Fall signals the end of tri season for me; the beginning of marathoning.  No more 2-workout-days for a while.  More freedom to just get up and go because running alone requires less equipment.
In Florida, fall doesn't really start until October or even November.  But it finally is making an appearance.  This morning, while I was doing my 5ish-mile run (at the beginning of a 14-hour day, ugh!) it was so gorgeous out.  Humidity was high but temps were lower than they have been. 

Fall is MY FAVORITE SEASON!

As I was doing some light hill repeats, my heart rate monitor beeped at me and across the screen a message flashed.  I've seen this message before, and I'm not really sure what it means (do we ever really understand everything that our electronical gadgets do?) 

Limits off!

When this message popped up, something Mike from D3 Multisport told me about my LT test instantly popped into my head.  I was explaining what I did last year, what I weighed, etc.  And he said "What you were at before, is done and gone."

I got on the scale this morning and saw a new low weight - again, a weight I haven't seen in 2-3 years.  And I thought to myself, what you were at before is done and gone.

I love to have "key phrases" to get me through tough races, and I think I have found my two mantras for marathon training and possibly racing this season.


Who knows what this limits off message means for my Polar. I'll have to look it up today. But I got to thinking about that message, and about Mike's advice, and I started thinking, why not turn my limits off? Why not make a concerted effort to stop letting everything that has bothered me or hindered me in the past stop? Right here, right now? I already took "cancer" out of my blog and I rarely talk about my health anymore, and look how much better I feel about it. I already took the scary first steps to break into the field I'd like to study for my PhD.  I already learned to accept that just because I have a certain set of constraints doesn't mean I cannot work every day to erase them.


What would life be like it I really did live it with my limits off?

Doubt may be powerful, but hope will win every time

It's time for a long discussion about the lovers and the haters.

I feel like almost everyone avoids the negative topics concerning our great sport(s).  A lot of people don't want to talk about DNF's and DQ's and injuries and overtraining and illnesses and - let's not forget - straight-up jackasses and haters. 

Jackasses are easy to spot.  They're the people who don't say "on your left," and almost crash someone just to finish behind (or 2 seconds in front of) the person they almost crash.  They rack their $5,000 carbon triathlon machine on top of your poor little bargain road bike in transition despite there being 100 spaces open after the ride.   And sometimes they just act like jerks because they have more money.

And then there are what I call haters. Haters are more subtle.  They try to undermine everything you do.  Sometimes they'll tell you how great and awesome you are while they plot on how to show you up at the next race.  They question your choice of clothing, your training plan, your shoes, your race goals, and sometimes try to sabotage you mentally because they're afraid you might finish a few minutes ahead of them and they just can't stand to finish behind someone who doesn't look as fit as they are, or who doesn't follow their rules.  All you can do is your best to avoid them. 

The reality is this: triathlon and marathon are very competitive.  And some people take that SUPER seriously.  The haters, like the jackasses, are unavoidable. 

And that's ok.  Without a little competition, many of us would never push ourselves to be better.

But it's also ok for a completely different reason.

LET'S TRAVEL BACK IN TIME

In 2006, when I did my first 5k, I had no idea what was ahead of me.  I was talked into doing it by my best friend, and really encouraged toward it by my original triathlon mentor, who helped found the Lakeland Landsharks Tri Club.  At the beginning of the race, Karime, who does not harbor a single ounce of malice or ego about such things, told me something I will never forget.

You're faster than me, so you go ahead and I'll see you at the end.

The thing is, she really meant it.  She wasn't telling me go ahead and thinking or pretending she wasn't thinking I'm still going to beat you or we both know I'm really faster.  No, she seriously, truly, honestly, wanted me to kick ass.

still kind of back in time here

When I started typing this, I started to think about her.  And something else someone told me - someone I still don't know to this day - came to mind. 

It was at Florida 70.3  I had just been DQ'd for missing the time cutoff on the run. My nutrition, which I'd trained with for 2 years, had sent me attempting to poop or puke down the run course for 13.1 miles and subsequently had me shut down with only 4.3 miles left.  I was crying.  I'd trained for 2 years and thought 2 years was more than enough experience to finish a HIM. An older, wiser, more experienced athlete gave me this advice:

Don't ever let anyone rent negative space in your head.  (He mostly meant ME renting negative space in my OWN head, but it pretty much applies to anyone.)

WELCOME BACK TO 2011


I realize that if I spend too much time talking or thinking about the haters, I am letting them rent negative space in my head.

So instead I'm gonna tell you about the lovers.

Last night, I meet Karime for dinner and to watch some baseball and have a beer and just catch up.  Since that first 5k, I have done dozens of races.  Karime is still cool with doing a 5k every now and then but has no desire to be a crazy triathlete.  Nonetheless, she is completely supportive of my athletic insanity.  She's asking about the century, and I tell her that I really know now how little I want to do Ironman.  The conversation goes like this.

Karime: "Sure."

Me: "What?  I'm serious.  Don't want to.  At all."

"No, you're going to do one."

"No, I really don't want to."

She looks at me for a second, puts her hand up and says, "Listen, bitch.  I know you.  You did a 5k and said you'd never do a marathon.  Now you've done how many marathons?  How many triathlons?"

"Yeah, but Ironman is different."

"I didn't say you're going to do one now, I just said you're going to do one.  Maybe in 5 years.  But eventually you'll get so well-trained you'll do it just like everything else,  just because you can."

I stop for a second, speechless.  Here is someone who believes in me so strongly that she does not doubt I can do anything just because I decide I can/want to. 

And then she says this: "Just make sure it's the one in Hawaii.  Because I really want to go to Hawaii."

Well, now she's just delusional.

"Do you have any idea how fast you have to be to get to Kona?" I sputter.  "You have to be like a 12-hour Ironman finisher.  Elite.  Super fast."  I point at myself.  "Not this gal."

She shakes her head and tells me, "You'll get there.  I know you.  Eventually you'll just get to the point that you can."

I look at her like she has six heads, and she adds, "Let me tell you how this conversation is going to go.  'Ring ring .  .  . hello?  Oh hi Meggan.'  'Oh, hi.  So I was wondering . . . do you want to go to Hawaii?' "


The point here is not that I want to do Ironman or think I can qualify for Kona, ever (because, for the record, I do NOT.)  The point is that this person believes in me enough to truly think that, if I really, really, really wanted to make it happen, I would do it.

That single conversation instantly crushed the memory of the 50 more I have had with haters.


Triathlon aside . . .

What would life be like if we all believed that?  If we all did not doubt we can do anything just as long as we decide we can?

I have been trying to surround myself with more and more lovers.  And I know there are sometimes going to be more haters than lovers.  But that's ok.  Doubt may be powerful, but hope will win every time.

The Daquiri Deck Tropical Splash 2.5k Swim Report aka Ya Can't Have it All

Before I move on to the report for the 2.5k Tropical Splash, I have to add that I can't get over how cool it was that we got this trophy for raising the most for the Ronald McDonald House Charities of Central Florida.  Over $12,000 was raised, so over 160 families can stay at the RMC House thanks to the team from Seminole Cyclists and David's World Cycle.  I can honestly say I was taught most of what I know about cycling from this group.  It was an amazing experience.

Now, on to the swim.

Well.

I know I said I was only looking at this event as a "practice."  Initially I was going to do the 5k swim, remember?  But I decided, since I already did 2.5 miles in August, it wasn't necessary to train hard for it.  So, I told myself, I'll just go for a little fun swim and see what I can do at shorter distance.

And then I didn't have dinner until almost 10pm the night before thanks to a big miscommunication.

And then the pavilion I thought the event was starting from wasn't the right pavilion.

And my sherpa left me alone in the dark to go to the gas station for a drink and restroom based on the idea that it was the right one.

And I didn't get to be in the cute pre-race photos.

And then my timing chip strap started to come off during the start.

And I also underestimated my ability to aggressviely start a swim race.

So, instead of taking me 1 hour, it took me 1:07.

And - I'm not done yet - then swimsuit pictures were taken.  Not in our cute team shirts - mind you, I missed those thanks to the pavilion mishap.  In swimsuits.  Wet and bedraggled.

And one of the Super Skinnies (well, everyone but me is one of these) says, "make sure you take it from the side so we look better."

I'm thinking, ok, YOU look better because you're all of a size 2.  Women who occasionally wear a size in the double digits but have a small waist-to-bust ratio do NOT.

Yeah.

This is more or less what I look like in REAL life

I'm all sweaty.  My super-snug suit (say that 3 times real fast) is super snug because it is more comfortable in the lake to help avoid the "swim rash" the water gives us from chafing and just open water in general.  And my fat is peeking out every corner imaginable.  I don't even have a face in these pictures . . . . I have a squinty, rasin-like object, covered in greasy-stringy rope, perched atop a blob of what you would never know is a low-body-fat, large-breasted, small-waisted, size 8/10 body.

Needless to say, my morning was pretty much ruined.

Seriously, how could I be mad? This was my view

So later on we had a few beers and watched football and ate snacks and just enjoyed being together.    My bike is getting checked up from the crash and a new chain and cassette, and even though it will cost me a bunch, it will be worth it.  With this amazing view from my hotel and a great weekend of dinners and beautiful surroundings, I pretty much let all my grudges go.

After all, you can't have it all.

And considering I've PR'd and reached milestones all year . . .  I'd say I have come pretty close.

Grumpy Pants and Old Berries

I ran 13 miles today.

That in and of itself is not terribly remarkable.  People run half marathons and half-marathon-distance every day. And I just sat on a bike for 6 hours, so running for less than half that time isn’t a huge deal, either.  Granted, this was my longest run since February, but I’ve worked up to it.  Nothing huge.

I did, however, plan to go 14 – and even thought at one point that I went 15.     I thought I was really moving (for me, anyway!) and even thought I was setting a mini-PR at the 13^th mile mark.

And then I came home and found out I only went 13. 

Smashed Droid

See, my Droid, which was already dying a slow death, got dropped from a bike going about 19 a few weeks back.  It looks something like this, although I’m unable to show you a picture of the ACTUAL smashed Droid because I’ve been relying on a very, very, very old Blackberry (one of the original ‘Berries) which has no camera, terrible mobile web, and – possibly the worst part – NO GPS. 

Old 'Berry

(How did we live without all these conveniences?)

So, before I went out and ran my planned 14 this morning, I had to go on Gmap Pedometer and track a route down that was 14 miles.  I’ve always had great luck with Gmap Pedometer, but the route seemed a little light.  When I hit the turnaround, I saw the time on my watch and figured, I still have some time, let me go longer.

Good thing I did . . . got back, double-checked the route . . . just over 13 miles.  If I hadn't gone longer, I wouldn’t have even made it a half marathon.  Instead, I got all excited thinking I'd run over 14 miles at my 10-mile race pace.

Major case of the Grumpy Pants.

Ahh, well! IronMAJ training continues . . . feeling good as the runs get longer and looking toward 15 or 16 next week.


In the meantime, I really need a new phone.  To go along with the new wheels.  All my equipment needs replacement this year!

This Saturday, I am signed up for the Daquiri Deck Ocean Swim.  I don't really consider this a race.  I had originally planned to do the 5k, but since I've already done 2.5 miles and my swimming took a backseat to riding, I chose to jump down in distance.  I do 2000-3000 swims regularly, so this will be just a fun swim for me, to keep working on my openwater skills and ocean familiarity.  Then, a few nice days in a beautiful place with the B. 

I have lots of exciting news on the career front, but I'm keeping that under wraps . .  just for now :)

10 New Things Training/Racing/Triathlon Have Taught Me About Life

1.       You look amazing in street clothes after months of seeing yourself covered in sweat, wearing spandex and no makeup.

Self-explanatory.

2.       It’s not about the result or the destination; it’s about the journey.

Races, and any other goals in life, don’t just appear one day.  They happen after days and months of effort.  Luckily, it is the days and months during which you give the effort that often give you the most satisfaction – especially when you look back on race day and acknowledge how you “got there.”

3.       If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  And, on that note, if something really is worthwhile to you, you will go to great lengths to make it happen.

 Because of my various medical issues, I often feel terrible after 8pm or 9pm on the weekdays, but it is usually the only time I have to plan for my next day.  I have to force myself, through terrible fatigue, to tune up my bike, set up my breakfast, pack my clothes, etc., so I’ll be ready to work out in the morning and sleep an extra 15 minutes. But when I started doing this regularly, I started my day feeling a lot calmer and more prepared, and that carried over into my daily life.  I continue to plan like I always did, but now I try to do a lot of legwork in advance of big days.

4.       The people with whom you surround yourself will often make or break you.

Attitudes are contagious.  I worked out alone for years because groups I joined were very unfriendly to the less-than-elite.  Once I started working out with friendly groups, I got faster and stronger.  Were they that much better as athletes?  Some of them – but mostly it was because the positive environment fostered personal growth.  Training buddies (the right ones, anyway) can do wonders for your self-esteem!  The same goes with friends in other parts of your life.

5.       Do not be afraid to do things differently if they make something work for you.

I can’t train with gels and most sports drinks.  I tried just about everything out there, and  I finally started to land on the options that worked best for me by asking around and being unafraid to get blank stares when the majority of my group used something different. The alternative was puking or pooping myself silly at every race.  I also can’t ride on most women’s-specific saddles.  The alternative is horrific, cystic saddle sores that eventually become infected.   I think being the oddball is the better alternative in both cases!

6.       Just because you are CAPABLE of doing something, doesn’t mean you NEED to.

Just because you CAN eat cake at every meal, doesn’t mean you should, because eventually you’ll look and feel horrible.  The same goes with racing and training.  Just because you CAN go 140.6 miles doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for YOU to do.

7.       Rest more than you think you ought to, but push more than you think you can.

Going along with “just because you are capable,” you don’t need to train twice a day, 6 days a week – especially if you’re not getting paid to do it.  Respect your taper and rest days, and every now and then take an extra one.  Hell, don’t worry about an extra 2 or 3 if you’re sick, or traveling, or just plain tired – you probably need them, and your fitness isn’t going anywhere in a few days.  That doesn’t mean you should be lying around eating bonbons and expecting to finish races in amazing times.  It means that, on the days you have intense workouts, give 110% to your workouts – push just a little more than you think you can - and then on the days that you rest, give the same effort to resting!  After all, it’s just as important, if not more so.

8.       The race really is YOU versus YOU.

In life, as in training, someone will always be better, faster, stronger, smarter, prettier.  So don’t worry about beating them.  Worry about beating yourself.

9.       Use obstacles as a reason to excel, not an excuse to fail.

Moliere said “the greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.”  I truly believe I thrive in situations where people – including me – don’t expect me to make it.  The worse things get, the more I step up my game.  As an added bonus, when things are even the slightest bit better, they seem like a breeze!

10.   The best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.

2011 Ride 4 Ronald Century Report

So . . . .100 miles.

A century.

Surprisingly, easier than I expected.  Way easier than a ton of our training rides, which had us riding the toughest hills in the area, that's for sure.

And WAY more fun than I expected!

I can't even put into words how much fun I had yesterday.  In fact, it's taken me until now to write just a few words about it because I am still reveling in the excitement of it all.

Mix together College Park in downtown Orlando, a big group of excited cyclists of all ages, a darn-near perfect (if not hot) day, and over $11,900 raised for the Ronald McDonald House, and you have my day.  Then add in darn-near perfect nutrition and a darn-near perfect group.  Pepper liberally with laughs and mishaps, shake and serve chilled.

Ok, so that analogy is admittedly ridiculous, but you get the picture.

The ride was relatively uneventful except for losing my chain at the very beginning and getting into the worst bicycle crash of my life so far at mile 75.   We stopped at 3 SAG stops for fluids and restrooms.  My seat never bothered me.  We rode in a rotating pace line and when it got tough I just hit the drops and sucked wheel as much as I could.

Bear in mind,  I haven't been in a ton of crashes; but this one sent a riding buddy to the hospital and ruined my back wheel.  In fact, just as we were on our way to that last 25 miles, feeling fresh and strong, I was telling someone hell, I have 40 more miles in me.  It all happened so fast: I was riding, then I saw Joe go down, then I was sitting on the concrete with Joe.  By some miracle of Whoever-You-Believe-In, I was completely unscathed.  My bicycle looked unscathed too.

But then I realized the back wheel wouldn't turn.

And then I started to think, oh my God . . . .I'm not going to be able to finish.

We tried the chain, whacking the back wheel on the ground, changing gears . . . . to no avail.  The back wheel was completely warped. 

I trained all these months and I'm not going to be able to finish.

Our rescue vehicle arrived, to take Joe to the hospital and tote my busted bike away, and I realized my rescuer was a bicycle mechanic.  With a trueing wrench in his hand.  He popped two of my spokes out, trued the remaining spokes, and said, "the wheel isn't going to last, and your brake doesn't touch both sides of the wheel, but if you're careful you can finish."

So what do YOU think I did?

I rode 25 more miles is what I did.

100 miles, 16mph, about 6:14.  And memories that will last the rest of my life.



We're still standin;.  Yeah, yeah, yeah!

As for the burning question are you thinking of doing Ironman? - well, part of the reason I am doing the IronMAJ is to decide if I do, indeed, want to ever go down that route.  I can tell you two things: 1) I could definitely have run after that ride and 2) nope.   I still don't want to do Ironman.

For now, finishing a 70.3, the IronMAJ, and continuing to hang with this group is enough for me.

Now, ladies and gents, the swim is done, the ride is done, and all that's left is the marathon.

IronMAJ, here I come!!

Riding 4 Ronald

Here it is!  The t-shirt we get for participating in the 2011 Ride 4 Ronald!

I am so excited I can hardly stand myself!  I am doing both my first bike tuneup and my first century ride this weekend!  I feel like a “real” cyclist! 

As of this moment, I am also the #4 fundraiser out of 50 for the ride.  I earned a commemorative jersey that I can’t wait to receive and wear. 

I wanted to take a quick minute and express how truly grateful I am to everyone who has brought me to this point.  Some of you gave me training or nutrition or bike maintenance advice; some of you helped me HTFU on long rides; some of you donated to the RMHCC; some of you have listened to me whine about saddle sores or scream about how excited I am. 

For all of these things, I am eternally grateful!

No matter what happens, I have already come way farther than I ever imagined: a 60- to 80-mile ride every weekend for more than 8 weeks, at a pace I used to maintain only for short rides - I even made some good friends and a some money for a very good cause.

It is a happy coincidence that my 3 “Iron” events are in the order of a triathlon: swim (done), bike (Sunday), run (November).

Here’s to the “IronMAJ” event being almost complete, to the David’s World/Seminole Cyclist Team and to the Ronald McDonald House!

Milestones

Time to taper for the century! 

I said CENTURY.  EEEEE!!!!!

It hits me every now and then that I'm going to ride 100 miles next week. 

ME.  Lil' ol' me.  I'm going to ride ONE HUNDRED MILES.

And then a week later I'm going to swim 3.1
And then 4 weeks after that I'm going to run 26.2

I'm going to be an IRONMAJ!

EEEEEE!!!!

I have hit a lot of milestones this past few months. Highest training volume week (13.78), fastest 1-mile (7:44), fastest 5k training (non-racing) run (31ish mins), fastest group ride (19.1 mph AVERAGE), longest bike ride of my life (80 miles), fastest I've ever gone without a hill (29+), fastest I've ever gone on a bike (39), longest OW swim race (2.5 miles), first swim-only race, fastest 100yd swim time (1:47) . . . . the list goes on and on.


I had a lot of time to think the past few weeks since I haven't been spending 8-14 hours a week working out.  And, of course, one of the things I thought about was my weight.  I spent too many years obsessing over the scale numbers to be hung up on them now. I only worry about them if they're making a serious trend up or down. (And thanks to iron-distance training my weight has definitely been up a little. Damn you, constant inflammation!!!!) 

Well, I hit another milestone there, too.  My current "low" weight, 155, is the lowest my weight has been since I started racing in 2006.  I've been buying size 8's left and right.  Don't care if I never get smaller - single-digit sizes make me happy.




Last week I was back to strength and running, and this week I am returning to riding with 2 very short rides and then getting fit for a new saddle to hopefully reduce some of the discomfort during the century.  If this still doesn't help, I am riding the metric route.  And, after that's done, I'm off the bike for a while and reducing my rides to 1-2 a week in anticipation of run and swim volume increasing (thanks, 5k swim and marathon!) and to help the saddle sores/bruises finish healing.

5k swim is the week after the century.  With the extra time off, I have also devised a stratgey to reduce my swim to the 3k if I need to.

The marathon?  On like Donkey Kong.  I've been building my mileage up so I can make my long (18-mile) run 3 weeks before the race on 11/5.  The run is going great.  I'm way faster than I expected.

My mom used to say Meggan has the luck o' the Irish - she can fall into a pile of $4it and still come out smelling like a rose. Now that I'm grown up (ha), I like to think it's just that I can see the good in most all situations. I think in some ways that the saddle sore situation (say that 5 times real fast) was a way to get me to back off and rest a little. Since then, I am back down to the lowest weight I've been in years and I am feeling extremely fresh on my weekly runs.


I was looking at my training plan for Florida Half Ironman next year and I am so excited by how much lower the volume is than what I'm doing now.

And then all I could think about was

I'm going to ride ONE HUNDRED MILES.

And then

I'm going to be an IronMAJ!!!!
EEEEEE!!!!

OW

My ass hurts.  And I ate cheese fries tonight.

CHEESE FRIES!  WTF was I thinking?  I haven't eaten anything like that in . . .  well . . . years!  Since I've been sick I have been having the weirdest junk cravings: pizza, chocolate, and cheese fries.  This from the girl who eats completely plain, unsweetened, old-fashioned oatmeal and fruit smoothies with absolutely no sugar added for breakfast and all protein-and-veggie dinners.

Speaking of food . . . . sitting to eat hurts.  (Sitting to do anything hurts.)

Technically, it's more the area between my lady parts and my inner thigh that hurts.  I feel like I lost a battle with a very low-blowing enemy.  Or I fell off the very steep cliff on the side of Mount Assmore.  

I can't believe I rode 140 miles last week like this.  (Well, it wasn't nearly that bad then, but still.)
SO I went off to the store for some Butt Paste and some pain-relief triple antibiotic so I'm prepared to combat this bastard if/when it strikes again.

That's all my lazy, sore (and hopefully not fat) ass has for today.

On Pollyannas, Sore Asses, Illnesses, and IronMAJ

It was the Best of Times; it was the Worst of Times.

OK, Dickens references are admittedly played-out. Let's just say it's been a Good News/Bad News kinda week.

Good News: I rounded out the highest-volume training week of my life last week with 12+ miles of running, 5500 yards of swimming, and 140 miles of cycling - and, best of all, because I'd been increasing volume gradually, eating enough protein, recovering and sleeping, and cutting back on booze and caffeine (almost completely), I ended the week without mishap.

Or so I thought.

Bad News: Sunday night through Tuesday morning my temperature skyrocketed and my body ached. TMFI alert: the area where two lumpy bruises had sprouted (presumably saddle sores, because they seemed merely ingrown hairs a few weeks ago) was now red and swollen all over like a baboon's bottom. On Monday, the doctor declared them infected saddle sores and I laid home two days with antibiotics trying to break the fever.

Wednesday rolled around, and Good News: the swollen area was "softer" and the fever was gone. Bad News: now there was a new, sore, red, swollen spot on the front of my left thigh near my hip and a weird rash on my right arm that the doc hasn't even seen. She put me on a different antibiotic, told me she didn't have to drain it (good news), but then scrunched up her face (bad news), explained that this is progressing very "strangely," added something about cellulitis, shook her head and sent me for bloodwork.

Bad News: I forgot my insurance card. Good(?) News: they have it on file because I'm there getting blood drawn so often.

So here I sit, on my new antibiotic, contemplating one of my prescription painkillers, preparing for another Epsom salts soak, and it is impossible not to think something I have promised not to think as much, or blog about anymore: What next?, Why me?, and, When will it stop?   I mean, I can't get just a few bumps that go away with new shorts, time off, and antibiotic ointment.  No, I have to be the one who gets the weird shit that keeps me home from work, bottomless, for days - and may derail IronMAJ altogether. 

Plain and simple, I am tired.  I am tired of being the sick person, tired of going on and off prescriptions, tired of getting stuck with needles, tired of feeling sick. (And this is just the physical stuff. Forget financial, emotional, professional.)   So part of me asks, Meggan, why do you even try at all? It would be so much easier to simply throw in the towel.  After all, things MAY not get better. There's an equal chance they may actually get worse.  

I know what you're probably thinking right now. You're thinking, that's not a very good attitude, or don't act like a victim, or (most commonly) you need to think positive thoughts.

But being positive is much more than just being a Pollyanna, going around blowing sunshine up everyone's ass all the time about if you think it, it will happen (don't get me wrong, I believe that, too).  Being positive is knowing that the best may happen, but that the worst also might.  It's understanding that it's not how we deal with the best of times that shows our strength, it's how we handle the worst.

No, things might not get better.  But that's exactly why you can't give up.  You can't give up, because then it wins. And if it wins - it being the universe, luck, the illness, whatever - then instead of a 50% chance things won't improve - there is no chance.

So what do you do? 

You ask why me, what next, when will it stop, and why don't I just give up?

And then you fight even harder.

So, what's the best that could happen?  A week or so off the bike and possibly out of the water (no way in hell am I wearing a swimsuit bottom around that poor sore lump right now!)  And the worst that could happen?  I have to give up the century and possibly the 5k swim.  But even that doesn't mean I can't run (reasonably, once the infection clears a bit).  I've already completed most of the swim and most of the cycling portion of the IronMAJ.  I've already gone almost 100 miles.  I have almost swam almost 3.  I've already gone farther than I've ever gone in my life.

And there is still a Rock'n'Roll Marathon in Savannah in November.  (As I love to say . . . that 26.2 miles ain't gonna run itself.)

Things may get better.

They may get worse.

Either way, I'm going to come out swinging.

Rock'n'Roll.