Don't Call it a Comeback

Don't call it a comeback
I been here for years
Rockin my peers and puttin suckas in fear
Makin the tears rain down like a MON soon
Listen to the bass go BOOM
Explosion overpowerin
Over the competition I'm towerin

-LL Cool J, Mama Said Knock You Out

So, I've been gone for a few months.

And now I'm back.

But, in the words of Mr. LL Cool J, don't call it a comeback.

After all, I been here for years. 

. . . Which is how long it feels since the 2012 Baldwin Park Sprint Triathlon.  I never wrote my race report - but, the crazy thing is, this race is one of the most report-worthy I've ever raced.  In fact, it's that way EVERY year.  Last May, before I did this race, I made major life decisions. This May, I made some even bigger decisions.

I have to tell you - my training suffered.  A move across town, a new job, the end of the teaching semester, getting ready for my own graduate coursework, and the end of my research project - plus some other personal revelations, doctor's visits, waiting to find out if I needed another radioactive iodine scan - that all really took its toll on my body, heart and soul.  This year, more than ever, I was reminded of the power of the mind-body connection.  I think back to the days when I really struggled, physically and emotionally, and I realize now how connected they really are.

I still signed up for the race.  And I honestly felt a little worried that it wouldn't end up well.  A tiny little part of me wanted to crawl into a cocoon and cry and drink until I didn't know where I was.

As you might recall, someone - a FEW someones, actually -  had told me, rather innocuously, that they didn't think I should make the move from Athena to Age Group because I would have a better chance of placing in Athena.

Something like this happened in my head:

Mama said knock you out
I'm gonna knock you out

There were a few goofy moments where I stumbled over myself in transition, and a bummer when a friend in a younger age group passed me on the run despite my massive lead on the bike, but it was truly the most confident I've ever felt on a race course. When I crossed the finish line in 1:12 and change - a 12-minute PR over last year - I was all smiles.  A guy stopped me and told me that he had to tell himself I was a pro to feel better about how I handed him his ass on the bike course.

But don't call it a comeback

I watched a few acquaintances come in and then stumbled over to the tent to check out my results.  I fully expected to be top 3, given last year's results.  Usually, women 30-34 are not the fastest.  We typically get beat by 35-39 and 40-45.  But when I looked down at the sheet, the #1 woman had finished FOUR MINUTES FASTER THAN I DID. 

Damn.  Bitches be trippin'.

Correction:  bitches be FLYIN'.

And then I realized

I was 5th. 

I had just successfully transitioned from top Athena to top AG.

And THEN I realized

I WAS FIRST PLACE 30-34 ON THE BIKE

In a race where my age group was the fastest or second-fastest age women of the entire race

(Later on I realized I was 8th place out of all women on the bike and about 18th overall.)

The funny part? I weigh under 150 some days when I'm buck naked, but with clothes on - especially with shoes on - by weight, I am a true Athena.

Mama said knock you out
I'm gonna knock you out

The one big takeaway: I was disproportionately slower on the run and swim. I already bumped up my strength routine. So I was left with a decision to make a dedicated effort on those two sports.  I took a couple light recovery-ish type days and planned a 4-week, 10,000-yard-a-week swim block.

How'd that go? As of this moment, I've swam 11,000 yards more in 2012 than I swam in ALL of 2011.  I'm still 500 miles shy of my all-2011bike totals and 320 miles shy of my all-2011 run numbers - but I'll get there.  Next year, I want my run and my swim to be as strong as my bike.

And next week, I start training for my 5th marathon, the December Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, Alabama.  On the way, I had so much fun at the BP tri, I decided to do the BP Half Marathon.

We'll call it a 4.5-month run block.

But don't call it a comeback.


PS - if you haven't before, go read about my hero and fellow thyroid cancer survivor, as well as fellow fall risk, Kristin McQueen.  You'll thank me.

Escaping from Fort De Soto (with a PR, no less)

(What's with the spacing and formatting lately, blogspot??)

When you're at the end of your first race of the season, and you're going a lot slower than you'd like, and you've only passed one person, and the volunteer around the last mile tells you, "Don't look back - there's no one behind you," what's the first thing you think?

C'mon, quick.

Holy *%&^ - I'm last. I can't believe I'm THAT slow.

Well, that's what I thought, anyway. "That's MEAN!!!" I shouted. Then the guy tells me, "There's a whole pack of people behind you. They're all WAY behind you. Trust me. No one's even close."

ME??? AHEAD OF SOMEONE?!?!?!! I'm a SUPASTAH!

But, I digress.

PRE-RACE

First of all, let me just mention that I LOVE THIS VENUE. My very first tri was here, and the beach at Fort De Soto is, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. And the Mad Dogs are one of the coolest tri clubs I've ever met. I want to BE a Mad Dog. (Hell, I'm already a Crazy Bitch!)

I also had my first real sherpa for this race. The Dude - by a stroke of luck - got the night off and went with me to the race. The problem is, I didn't get off work, get finished packing, eat and get on the road until about 8pm. Which means, by the time I scoped the sight real quick-like and got to bed, it was 11 or 12. Getting up at 4am for a race is not fun when you don't get to bed till 11 or 12. And, if you know me, you KNOW how superstitious I am about my pre-race routine, especially having a low race number, getting to bed ass-early and having my race packet the night before. So I got up with a serious case of race crank. Thankfully, The Dude helped me with everything: packet pickup, packing, unpacking, getting my foot-washing water, and jamming out to my loud pre-race music on the way to the race, at 5 in the morning, as if he does this every weekend. It was like we went to a party and a race broke out.

My goals for this race were low. This was a B-C priority for me, a warm-up for St. Anthony's, which is a warm-up for Florida Half Ironman. And I have been in and out of the hospital in the past few weeks. And I generally do my worst at Sprint distance. So, my goal for the swim was 15-17 minutes, given that my last sprint-distance swim was 750m in 17:36, and I wasn't as bad-ass of a swimmer as I am now. My bike goal was light - under 40 minutes. And my run goal was 45 minutes - I've never managed an 11-minute mile in triathlon, only stand-alone foot-races, but my running's been pretty strong. In short, I didn't want to push it. This was more of a workout for me than a race. Under two hours total, and I'd be happy.

SWIM

I had a major case of the Race Jitters, and I knew the second I did my water warm-up that this swim was going to SUCK A#$. I was completely dizzy in the water. My vertigo had me all wacked out. And I was just. Slow. As. Hell. Instead of passing people in the waves before me, I got to be the jerk who got passed by waves behind me. I had to pee in the water. It was the slowest swim I've ever done in ANY triathlon in my LIFE. Then T1 was about a half-mile run from the swim. Also the slowest T1 of my life. (Although NO ONE escaped from this T1 unscathed because it was so long.) So I kept singing one of the songs they'd played before the race (Disco Inferno): "I heard somebody say, 'burn, baby, burn' . . ."

BIKE

The bike was almost as bad. I couldn't get my groove AT ALL. I had to pee the whole time (I always do on the bike), but people were all around me. So I fell back to my race strategy and just gave it a moderate effort: one Gu, no real hustle. (Heart rate monitors are so worth the money for keeping you on your race strategy.) I was definitely BOP'ing (Back-of-the-Pack'ing) it.

At one point, I passed ONE person - a stronger cyclist in his 70's. "On your left," I grunted. "Be my guest," he retorted with a grin. "Oh, don't worry," I told him. "You'll be passing me." "What, is there a downhill coming up that I don't know about?" "Yep," I yelled over my shoulder, at about 17 mph. "It's called me bonking." Which I did less than 200m later. "Oh no!" He laughed as he flew by. "It's the dreaded Lance-Armstrong-ist!!!"

(Did I mention I want to be him when I grow up?)

Toward the final turn, I thought it was time to dismount, so I was already unstrapping my shoes. Turns out I still had a half-mile around the corner, so I couldn't really give a "final push" because I was what my mom would call "barefooted as a yard dog." (Or, maybe in this case, as a Mad Dog??) I know I didn't do this in under 40 minutes, but I had bumped my "lap" button on my HRM, so I couldn't tell.

I heard somebody say, 'burn, baby, burn' . . .

WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEPARATE, PISSED-OFF BLOG ENTRY ABOUT MUTUAL ATHLETE RESPECT IN TRANSITION, ESPECIALLY PEOPLE THROWING THEIR BIKE ON TOP OF YOURS, THROWING THEIR WETSUITS AND SHOES AND CRAP ON TOP OF YOURS.THIS COST ME A WHOLE MINUTE IN T2.

RUN

So much for under two hours. Now I'd have to run 4 miles in 30 minutes or less to make that goal. My fastest 5k footrace is about 32 minutes, so 4 miles in 30 just ain't gonna happen. I realized one of my worst race limiters, too: THE TINKLES. I have to pee THE WHOLE RACE LONG. And then that's all I can think about. On the run, after finally getting to pee, I met a really cool guy named Matt - who's doing FL 70.3 for the second time in May - and we chatted for almost a mile, which perked me up considerably. So I actually figured I'd do well on the run. But then, just after mile two, we came around the corner of the fort, and the volunteer cheering us on said something like, "there's water just up the steps, guys."

Excuse you? What steps?

I seem to have forgotten that this race is called Escape from Fort De Soto. So I should have expected to actually ESCAPE FROM Fort De Soto at some point. Up the steps, across the top of the fort, down the steps, AND ACROSS THE SAND FOR OVER A MILE. Thankfully, it was pretty hard-packed sand, so it wasn't too rough. But there was no shade, which was pretty painful - thank GOD this is April, not August like last year's Hammerhead Olympic. Nothing I could do from there but have fun, so I kept singing.

I heard somebody say, 'burn, baby, burn' . . .

Past the cool volunteer who told me no one was behind me. A mile left. All of a sudden, finish line in sight. There's my sherpa. He actually expected me to keep up with his skinny, 8-minute-mile-running behind for the last 400m. I crossed the finish line. The clock said 2:11-something. My very first sprint, last year, was 2:10:05.

I just had my ass handed to me. No, scratch that. I just handed my own ass to myself.

But what did I expect? Really? I mean, I didn't push. I sang to myself almost all the way. So I felt great. I wasn't sore, wasn't dragging ass, wasn't tired . . . . of course, I couldn't eat till a few hours after, but that's me with any workout over 30 minutes.

And then I realized that I was in the 3rd wave.

Which means I was 6-9 minutes behind the start.

Which means I just PR'd.Without trying.

Despite my worst swim ever.

And The Tinkles.

After just being in the hospital and missing weeks of training since December 31.

As my dad likes to say when we watch football (which happens pretty much every week), "We don't care if it's ugly - we'll take it."

What a great time. Now The Dude wants to do triathlons too.

The volunteer toward the last mile came up to me after the race. "Do you remember me?" he said.

"Of course I do!"

"Remember when I said there was no one behind you?"

"Yep."

"And you took it negatively."

"Sure did."

"But I didn't mean it that way. Everyone behind you wasn't even in sight."

"You're right."

"Don't ever let anyone rent negative space in your head."

"You're right."

"We'll see you next time."

You bet your ass you will.

My run saved my race. That really sticks with me. The lower mileage and higher cross-training seem to do my body well. But what that volunteer told me is what really stuck with me, so you can expect me to write all about it for months to come. My worst race limiter is not THE TINKLES at all. My worst race limiter is that I DO let people rent negative space in my head. And the biggest tenant is ME. Even with The Tinkles: if I didn't think about it so damn much, I wouldn't have to pee so damn bad.

From now on, the week of a race - any race, practice or not - I'm going to put signs all over my house, my desk, my car if I have to. I'm going to tape one to the handlebars of my bike. I'm going to sing it to myself.

NO VACANCY.

NO VACANCY.

NO VACANCY.

No one's renting any negative space in my head. Not even me.

So yes. I'm still slow. And NO. I'm still not racing Athena again just so I can get a trophy.

The Official "Hey, At Least I Wasn't Last and I PR'd" Results:

# 167 Meggan Johnson 29 Orlando FL

PLACE: 47 out of 48 in my age group, 849 out of 850-something overall

SWIM: 25:18

T1: 5:34

BIKE: 40:24

T2: 2:51

RUN: 52:01 (MY FASTEST RUN IN ANY TRIATHLON TO DATE.)

FINISH: 2:06:06

PR: Around 4 minutes.

Was it the run that saved me, or was it the disco? You decide.

I heard somebody say burn, baby, burn . . .

Packing List

Ok, so Saturday is my first race of the season.

I don't think you heard me.

I said, it's the first race of the season.

And I have the race jitters like you would not believe.

What the hell? I've done this three years now. And the distance of this race doesn't even come close to the distances at which I'm training. It's a 1/2 mile swim - about 850yds. I've been swimming over 2000 for so long that 850 could be my warmup. It's a 10-mile bike. When I'm lazy, I ride 12 or 13 just to say I did something. It's a 4-mile run. When I'm really dragging ass, I get close to 5. I've even done a super sprint from this same location, with almost no training whatsoever, back when I thought swimming 1km was a big deal.

I. SHOULD. NOT. BE. AFRAID.

But I am.

I almost wish I'd done my first du, sick and all, just to get the first-race jitters out of the way. And no one really understands how sick I was, so to say that is saying something HUGE.

I have the Race Jitters.

So, here is what I shall do to calm my Nancy Ass down. I shall make my packing list. Nothing makes me less jittery, besides telling myself this is Just Another Workout and Straight Up Doing the Damn Thing, than getting good and organized.

Soooooo . . . . here we go!!!


Pre-Race Packing and To-Do's

• Clothes for before the race
• Directions to race site
• Directions to packet pickup site
• Figure out course
• Book hotel
• Clif bars
• Bananas
• Oatmeal
• Honey or agave nectar
• COFFEE, milk and sweetener
• Set 3 alarms
• 5-hour energy
• Meds
• Bike tune-up/once-over
• All bags packed and hatches battened down!!
• Check in to hotel and get to bed early
• Lay out food and outfit
• Double-check transition bag

Set-Up Packing and To-Do's

• USAT Card
• Sunscreen
• Transition bag
• BODY GLIDE
• Two towels (BRIGHT) and anything else bright to stick to bike
• Race numbers (affixed to everything!!!)
• Championchip (and strap)
• Watch and HR monitor
• Tri outfit
• Bra
• Goggles
• Swim cap
• Anti-fog stuff
• Water to rinse feet

T1/ Set-Up Packing and To-Do's

• Black sharpie
• Flip flops
• Sweatshirt
• Water to rinse feet
• Bike (with all repair tools in bento box!!)
• Food bar in Bento box or Gus in this case
• Pump
• Helmet
• Sunglasses
• Bike shoes
• Safety pins
• Race # belt with Gu pouch (strapped to bike)
• Bottles of water
• Bottles of Clif shot
• Gus

T2/ Set-Up Packing and To-Do's

• Race number
• Lip balm?
• Running shoes
• Socks
• Baby powder
• Water/Gu/Clif shot
• Place to store wet gear
• Post-race pack-up

I be thinkin' that's about it.

JITTTTTTEEEERRRSSSSSS.......