BLINGtastic End to 2011

On Christmas Eve, this showed up at my door. 

It's my special medal for doing two RnR Marathons in one year.  Guess they figure if you're crazy enough to do multiple marathons you deserve some extra bling.  LOVE it! It is my FAVORITE medal!

Then these showed up under the Christmas tree.  For tris . . .

For marathons and halfs (although I have so many halfs, I might need a separate one for those)

I feel like a rock star . . .these suckers are super heavy with all these medals danglin' away.

New Year's Eve is my favorite holiday.  I think it trumps my birthday and Christmas.  And it is no secret that my party life is not huge (especially since I got serious about training.  Have YOU tried running at lactate threshold with a hangover?)  So, this one time a year, I go all out and party like it's 1999.

This year is special.  It's also the 3-year anniversary of my relationship with the B. We've had a lot of ups and downs. It's hard to believe it's been 3 years.  Who knows what is ahead for us.  And, best of all, 4 of my best friends in the UNIVERSE are joining me to celebrate 12/31/11.
 
I have already started planning my attack on 2012.  I will be sharing some of training/MAJsicle plans with you soon enough.  But for now, know that I will be spending my hung-over New Year's Day hanging up my bling and putting away Christmas decorations.  Oh, and let's not forget: eating collard greens and blackeyed peas.  Click here to learn why!
 
Enjoy your last few days of 2011!

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.

HEY CANCER . . .

So I came up with my key words for the race.   You may recall that I always tell myself things like relax your body, open your stride and pick up your feet but that I also throw in "key phrases" to motivate me to push - things attack, pain cave, balls out, I'm in Miami bitch.   I decided, since I spend most of the race holding back so I don't run out of energy, toward the end I'm going to tell myself to turn it loose.  And whenever anyone doubts me (including me), I usually think to myself, well, it's been inside me, so I am going to remind myself all race long that I already have it inside me.

I also figured out what I am going to wear. (As long as I get the right size here in time.) 

There are dozens of races and athletic events for breast cancer. There are even races benefitting ovarian cancer research. Leukemia and lymphoma have the Team in Training crew supporting their society. But us ThyCans - well, we don't get a whole lotta public love.

I try to do my part by speaking openly about the illness.  The biggest thing people don't realize is that thyca means not only do you get surgery (mandatory) radioactive iodine (usually also mandatory) chemo (possibly) and then you get to have thyroid DISEASE for the rest of your life because your body thinks it's constantly hypothyroid since you no longer have one.
And since I don't have an event of my own own, I try to do something at my big races.  At Rock'n'Roll Mardi Gras this February, I sported teal/blue/purple butterfly wings and wore purple accesories so that when people asked about it I could explain that the thyroid is the butterfly and those are our colors. 

But it's also a reminder for myself. Whenever I feel sorry for myself, or forget how far I've come, it helps to remind myself, if I still had cancer there's no way I'd be doing this.

Well, butterfly wings are a bit uncomfortable after 5-6 hours, so this is the shirt I'm going to buy for the race.

It pretty much sums up my attitude.

Hey Cancer.  You picked the wrong Bitch.

Rock'n'roll.



for more information about thyroid cancer, visit www.thyca.org or www.checkyourneck.com

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?

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 :)

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.

Excuse Me, Cap'n ToughNuts . . . You Seem to Have Misplaced Something

This is the conversation I imagined myself having today while riding 53 miles of hills . . .


Excuse me, Cap'n ToughNuts?

Yeah, that's me.

You seem to have misplaced something.

I have?

Yes, this looks like it might belong to you.  Did you leave this behind some time this week?

Hmm . . . that doesn't seem possible.

Why's that?

Well, that looks like my HTFU. 

Well, that can't be possible.  You never leave home without it.

Exactly what I said.   

I'll be damned if I didn't leave my HTFU behind for just about every workout this week.  Wednesday's 32-mile ride and today's almost 53-mile ride were bruuuuuutal.   I need to really work on my nutrition and rest strategy for the week.  I like to refer to what I did on both rides as "The Mother of All Bonks."

Sounds dirty.

As a smart lady says, there are lots of good days in training, and there are lots of bad days.

Hmmmm, sounds like life.

I think I better pull up my big girl panties and pack an extra HTFU.  You know, just in case I ever leave mine behind.

Foxtro Uniform Charlie Kilo Cancer, Revisited

I've had a scan before, so I have to admit that I didn't think anything big about this one, despite the thyrogen injections and the ridiculous fasting/laxative combo.  But I was oh, so wrong: the week was a blur of mild headaches, subtle nausea, flu-like symptoms, and a nosebleed that still hasn't gone away.  (Might I add: not a single ounce lost.  Why do people do this on purpose?) 

It (and the rest of my crazy schedule) has left me a little overwhelmed.

I kept a pretty loose workout schedule last week - a 2.63-mile run, a 3-mile run, a 39.6-mile ride and a 1-mile swim - but I am still in that weird limbo where I don't know if I should be resting when I'm tired or pushing it a little.  In the past, pushing just a little always helped.  But now, I feel ambivalent - overtired and uncertain alternating with confident and determined.  I'm freaked out a bit and ready for Wednesday to come. 

This diagnosis isn't just about beating cancer for me - it's about reclaiming my life as a well person.  For nearly 10 years of my life, I've been the sick girl, yet I've hid it so well that half the people who know me forgot, glossed over, or outright denied that I was ill.  And I'm tired of being the sick girl, in either variation, outright invalid OR silent sufferer.  Not having cancer isn't about not needing more treatments as much as it is leaving "the sick girl" in my past  . . . . for good.  I'll be a cancer SURVIVOR all day long, because a survivor is what I've always been anyway.  A cancer PATIENT, on the other hand . . . there's an f-word around here somewhere I'd like to use.


Of course, there will be follow-ups for life, including medication adjustments, but those will be almost exactly as they are for someone with thyroid disease, not thyroid cancer.  Which makes the process a bit more manageable and predictable.

For now, I'm just ready for NED.

And also, ready for BED.

The Era of the IronMAJ

There's nothing like the fresh, clean smell of a new beginning to fill you with energy and vitality (or, as my grandfather would've said, piss'n'vinegar.  Don't ask.)  The 2011/12 season promises to be the start of many things for me: a new life on my own (or maybe a better attached life than I ever imagined possible); new PRs and trophies to conquer; the realistic hope of being cancer-free; the very possible fulfillment of my lifelong dream of being a PhD student - just to name a few.

The Year of Living Dangerously is (mercifully) over.  The Year of the MAJ, and the Year of the PR, have dramatically drawn to a close.

It's the dawn of a new day. The eve of a new era.

The Era of the IronMAJ.

Now, before you go jumping to all kinds of crazy conclusions here, running amok through the streets of the city like a wildman/woman, arms akimbo, spreading the word far and wide that MAJ has decided to do an Ironman 140.6 after all, I have one word for you.

Don't.

Because I'm not.

This week I get my one-year whole-body scan, which will determine if the suspicious tissue found in April is more cancer or just scar tissue.  Between this and other financial and schedule considerations, training for Augusta 70.3 and any other far destination races is out of the question until around October or November.  Yet here I was, tooling around with this training group I got attached to, cycling with these cycling groups I stumbled upon, sometimes actually having the balls to jump on the tail end of a breakaway group, pull a pack or lead a ride (not for long, trust me) and all of a sudden I find myself training for a century and a 5k openwater swim.  And not just any century - The Ride 4 Ronald, a charity ride benefiting the Ronald McDonald House Foundation.

Then I thought, why not do the Savannah Marathon in November?
Someone else I know is doing it.
It's far enough off.
It's not terribly expensive.
It's not a long drive.

So someone says to me, "you're going to have to go on an Ironman training plan."

And I said, "Why?"

And they said, "Because you're basically doing an Ironman, 3 months apart.  Century in September, swim in October, marathon in November."

And I thought, hmmm.  imagine that. (No, really.  iMAJine that.)  Why don't I just call this the IronMAJ?  It will be my very own Iron-distance event.


And then I thought, Sign me up.


Wait, someone already did.


Oh yeah.  That was me.



IronMAJ 2011.

Are you in?