I stumble off my bike and into transition to find my run bag. Again, another amazing volunteer meets me outside the changing tent, grabs my sweaty elbow, and steers me to a seat. She pulls off my bike shoes and packs up my bike helmet. I pull on my Thorlo socks and Saucony shoes. A few minutes later, I stand up and walk out of the tent. I let a couple volunteers lather me in sunscreen before I step onto the run course - and then I start running.
I run to the first aid station and douse myself in orange Gatorade Endurance and water. Mmmm, fluids. I keep running. Another mile in and another aid station. More Gatorade, more water. And I'm starting to feel like I can do this. I keep checking my minutes per mile to make sure I'm maintaining my speed. I'd like to go faster, but I know that a faster mile pace could cause me to blow up at mile 20. And I definitely do not want to blow up.
Around mile six, I see my friends Dave and Dawn. They're volunteering as run pointers. And they cheer loudly for me. I've been given a boost. I complete my first lap around mile nine. I run through transition, looking desperately for my family. I see them and I wave. One lap down. Two to go. I run another mile and a half and I see my friend Sarah. She cheers me on. Again, I've gotten a boost. I keep running.
A couple miles later I stop for the porta-potty. And I realize I desperately need solid food. So I walk through the aid station and grab a couple orange slices and tear into them. Okay, physically and mentally recharged. I keep running.
I pass Dave and Dawn again. I hold up my right pointer finger and say, "One more lap, one more lap." I can do this.
I run through transition again and yell for my family. I wonder where Tim is. He's got to be done by now, I think. I keep running. And now I am really hungry. I am craving food. I am craving salt. I eat chocolate chip cookies at the next aid station. And then I start on pretzels at the next aid station. The aid station volunteers are offering PowerGel and chicken broth, but I can't go there. Give me cookies and pretzels, please.
It's getting dark at this point. I start thinking that I could finish in 12 hours. I keep putting the miles down and with each mile that goes down, I think that's one less mile in which I'll blow up. I can do this. I'm getting closer to the finish line and Mike Reilly!
I don't remember where, but somewhere on the back side of the run course, a volunteer hands me a glow-in-the-dark necklace. I try carrying it, but that presents a problem when I'm trying to grab Gatorade and pretzels at the next aid station. So I decide to wear the necklace and tuck it under my tri top so it doesn't bounce and hit my chin.
I run down mile 23 and I see Sarah and Noah, who are now volunteering as run pointers. They cheer me on and tell me I'm getting close to the finish. I am jazzed. I am putting those miles down. I am heading toward the finish line.
Up over the Mill Avenue bridge and down the other side. It's officially dark. I pick up the pace. I am feeling strong, I am feeling good, I am going to be an Ironman in a few more minutes.
I come up on transition and I make a left-hand turn into a parking lot. I run up the lot and back onto the street. There are two runners in front of me and I pass them. I veer left and bam!, I'm in the finish line chute! I see Tim and Maggie, Tim's mom. I am now running down the chute. I throw my arms up and focus my eyes on the finish line. I'm pretty sure Mike Reilly just mentioned my name. All the sudden, I'm crying. I'm crying, I'm pumping my fists in the air, I'm running as fast as my exhausted legs will carry me.
I crossed the finish line in 12 hours, 1 minute and 10 seconds.
A volunteer met me across the finish line and wrapped me in a mylar blanket. She held up my left side. Another volunteer gave me a bottled water and held up my right side. A third volunteer placed my finisher's medal around my neck, and then gave me my finisher's t-shirt and hat.
I was an Ironman. And I was still crying.
Tim met me in the finisher's chute and we took a photo in front of the IMAZ backdrop. My mom raced over to me, thrilled that I was alive and coherent. My legs were absolutely killing me. My sweet tri top was stained orange from the Gatorade. My tri shorts were wet from, well, let's just say from a certain aqueous solution...
I realized, probably an hour after finishing, that I had just had the time of my life. That I swam 2.4 miles, biked 112 miles and then ran a marathon - all in one day. That I raced with absolutely stunning individuals - Rudy, the double-leg amputee; the 77 year old man who DNF'ed in Kona just a month and change ago; the middle-aged man in the wheelchair, and so many more whose faces I passed again and again on November 22. That I discovered I loved eating chocolate chip cookies and pretzels while running. That, if I train myself mentally and physically and emotionally, I can do anything.
Bring on the next Ironman.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Race Report: It's Bike Time
Thank goodness for those volunteers in the changing tent. I was so cold coming out of the swim that I couldn't move my fingers. The volunteer who helped me change out of my wet tri clothes and into my dry tri clothes was an absolute life-saver. With her help, I stepped into my non-matching tri outfit: Tyr shorts (because I'll do anything to look like Chrissie Wellington) and 2XU tank top. Add on a helmet, shoes, sunglasses and a race belt and I was good to go.
I ran out of the changing tent and into transition. Transition volunteers called my race number up the bike rack lines and when I reached my rack, a volunteer was waiting for me with my bike. I thanked the volunteer, grabbed my bike, and shivered my way out of transition and onto the bike course.
Once I was on the bike course, all I could think about was a). maintaining a conservative pace and b). getting warm. The morning air was still chilly and I was still wet and freezing cold. It took me 45 minutes on the bike to reach my normal core body temperature. At 30 minutes in, I started my nutrition plan: an amalgam of EFS/Clif Shot sports drink, Gatorade Endurance, water, chocolate Gus and one peanut butter sandwich.
There was only one problem with my nutrition plan...I lost one of my EFS/Clif Shot bottles on the first loop of the three-loop bike course. I hit a bump in the road and whoosh!, there went my sports drink. I immediately freaked, knowing that I had just lost 300 calories of my planned nutrition intake. I decided at that moment to start drinking a lot more Gatorade, in order to compensate for the lost calories from the sports drink. I faithfully ate my Gus every 45 minutes and ate the pb sandwich during hours three and four.
The three-loop bike course definitely worked for me mentally. I was able to take the 112 mile course in three segments and monitor my effort that way. I also looked forward to coming back into town to see our parents and friends.
Let me also mention that I did not get off my bike once - not once, if you get my drift. Porta-potties were placed at every aid station, but yours truly took care of business on the bike. I kept waiting for a USAT official to catch me in the act and send me to the penalty tent...
When I hit the third loop of the bike, I was pumped. I was looking forward to getting off the bike and getting onto the run. It was also hot by this time of day. The temperature reached 76 degrees and all of us cyclists were baking on the asphalt. I spent the last 25 miles just focusing on hydration - and psychologically prepping for the marathon.
I came back into town for the last time, rode down the chute toward transition, heard my mom scream (probably something along the lines of, "Don't die on the run, please!") and was thrilled to no end to get off my bike and hand it to a volunteer.
After I dismounted from the bike, I felt awful: dizzy, nauseous, exhausted. "Mom told me I can't die on the run - I'll take it easy going through transition," I remember thinking, even though thinking hurt me all over, too.
It was going to be a long marathon...
Next post - Race Report: The Run!
I ran out of the changing tent and into transition. Transition volunteers called my race number up the bike rack lines and when I reached my rack, a volunteer was waiting for me with my bike. I thanked the volunteer, grabbed my bike, and shivered my way out of transition and onto the bike course.
Once I was on the bike course, all I could think about was a). maintaining a conservative pace and b). getting warm. The morning air was still chilly and I was still wet and freezing cold. It took me 45 minutes on the bike to reach my normal core body temperature. At 30 minutes in, I started my nutrition plan: an amalgam of EFS/Clif Shot sports drink, Gatorade Endurance, water, chocolate Gus and one peanut butter sandwich.
There was only one problem with my nutrition plan...I lost one of my EFS/Clif Shot bottles on the first loop of the three-loop bike course. I hit a bump in the road and whoosh!, there went my sports drink. I immediately freaked, knowing that I had just lost 300 calories of my planned nutrition intake. I decided at that moment to start drinking a lot more Gatorade, in order to compensate for the lost calories from the sports drink. I faithfully ate my Gus every 45 minutes and ate the pb sandwich during hours three and four.
The three-loop bike course definitely worked for me mentally. I was able to take the 112 mile course in three segments and monitor my effort that way. I also looked forward to coming back into town to see our parents and friends.
Let me also mention that I did not get off my bike once - not once, if you get my drift. Porta-potties were placed at every aid station, but yours truly took care of business on the bike. I kept waiting for a USAT official to catch me in the act and send me to the penalty tent...
When I hit the third loop of the bike, I was pumped. I was looking forward to getting off the bike and getting onto the run. It was also hot by this time of day. The temperature reached 76 degrees and all of us cyclists were baking on the asphalt. I spent the last 25 miles just focusing on hydration - and psychologically prepping for the marathon.
I came back into town for the last time, rode down the chute toward transition, heard my mom scream (probably something along the lines of, "Don't die on the run, please!") and was thrilled to no end to get off my bike and hand it to a volunteer.
After I dismounted from the bike, I felt awful: dizzy, nauseous, exhausted. "Mom told me I can't die on the run - I'll take it easy going through transition," I remember thinking, even though thinking hurt me all over, too.
It was going to be a long marathon...
Next post - Race Report: The Run!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Race Report: Wake-Up to Swim
It's high time I get to this race report. Tim wrote his race report more than two weeks ago, but again, because he likes to fly below the radar, that write-up won't hit this blog...yet.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
I didn't sleep well the night before the race. I was anxious, excited, nervous, worried I'd over-sleep. So when the alarm finally rang at 3:45am, Tim and I both jumped out of bed, thankful that we could get our morning routine started.
A few minutes after waking up, we were both eating breakfast. I ate my usual - yogurt with granola and sliced banana. I also ate two pieces of toast, smothered in almond butter. Tim made delicious coffee in our french press we brought from home. I drank my coffee while reading the Going Long chapter "What to Expect on Race Day." The last-minute cramming helped me focus on the long day ahead.
At 4:45am, we left the hotel and drove down Scottsdale Boulevard to the race. We turned the volume up on a few Kings of Leon and Aerosmith songs during the drive, anything to pump us up. Once in Tempe, we headed for the US Airways building, where all athletes were allowed to park. We unloaded our bags from Tim's truck and made our way to transition. The morning was dark and cold - and packed with people.
The morning was also busy. We dropped off our special needs bags, checked our bike and run bags, checked our bikes, put air in our tires, dropped off our water bottles - there wasn't much time to freak out because we were on the move. I did freak out about my timing chip (see my 11/23 post for the full story). But once my "replacement" chip was firmly velcroed around my ankle, the countdown to the swim start was on. Tim and I got in line for the porta-potties and made use of the wait to eat a Gu (me) and a Roctane (Tim). We also put on BodyGlide and our wetsuits.
And then, all of a sudden, we had about 15 minutes before the swim start. We quickly found Tim's mom, gave her our tri bags, put on cheap grocery store socks we had purchased the day before, and made our way to the lake. Mike Reilly (aka my Ironman boyfriend) was working the mic at this point...and the music was booming. The pros were off at 6:50am. They hit the swim hard. The line that Tim and I were in began to move as the age groupers headed into the water. We threw our socks in a pile of discarded clothing, kissed each other goodbye and good luck and jumped into the (freezing) 63 degree water. We had about a hundred yard swim to the actual start. Tim swam ahead while I found a spot near the middle of the pack. Mike Reilly was still working the mic...saying something like, "At the end of today, you are going to be an Ironman!" I took a minute to look around me and soak up the moment: There I was, about to race Ironman Arizona...an Ironman!
Bang. The gun went off. Boom. Two thousand-plus athletes hit the water.
My mom's big fear for the day was that I would "get drowned" during the lake swim. Not that I would drown, but "get drowned." She pictured 2,400 people swimming right on top of me for the full 2.4 miles. She made me promise to be careful and "stay alive out there." And if I had to guess, I'd say that her fists were clenched and her blood pressure was sky high and a million Rosaries were prayed during the entire swim.
So my mom was thrilled to see that I survived the swim. I actually felt really good during the swim (I knew then that the taper had worked); amazingly, it didn't seem like I was in the water all that long (even though I was for one hour and 15 minutes). I got banged up in the beginning - about four people hit my head, seven others kicked me, one big dude kept swimming into me (I could go on, but I won't). But for the most part, I kept my pace and my mind strong. And I got to watch the sun come up in between strokes.
Finally, I saw the stairs at the end of the swim. I swam and swam until my fingers touched the first stair. I felt two arms grab me - volunteers were pulling me out of the water. I stumbled up the rest of the stairs and down the carpeted sidewalk. I stopped in front of another volunteer to get my wetsuit stripped. Once my wetsuit was yanked off, I ran with it around the changing tents and into transition. Before I reached transition though, I made the mistake of looking down at my feet. They were purple. And they felt like frozen stumps. I decided not to think about my feet or how cold I was, and I found a volunteer inside the changing tent to help me into my bike outfit.
Next post - Race Report: The Bike!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
I didn't sleep well the night before the race. I was anxious, excited, nervous, worried I'd over-sleep. So when the alarm finally rang at 3:45am, Tim and I both jumped out of bed, thankful that we could get our morning routine started.
A few minutes after waking up, we were both eating breakfast. I ate my usual - yogurt with granola and sliced banana. I also ate two pieces of toast, smothered in almond butter. Tim made delicious coffee in our french press we brought from home. I drank my coffee while reading the Going Long chapter "What to Expect on Race Day." The last-minute cramming helped me focus on the long day ahead.
At 4:45am, we left the hotel and drove down Scottsdale Boulevard to the race. We turned the volume up on a few Kings of Leon and Aerosmith songs during the drive, anything to pump us up. Once in Tempe, we headed for the US Airways building, where all athletes were allowed to park. We unloaded our bags from Tim's truck and made our way to transition. The morning was dark and cold - and packed with people.
The morning was also busy. We dropped off our special needs bags, checked our bike and run bags, checked our bikes, put air in our tires, dropped off our water bottles - there wasn't much time to freak out because we were on the move. I did freak out about my timing chip (see my 11/23 post for the full story). But once my "replacement" chip was firmly velcroed around my ankle, the countdown to the swim start was on. Tim and I got in line for the porta-potties and made use of the wait to eat a Gu (me) and a Roctane (Tim). We also put on BodyGlide and our wetsuits.
And then, all of a sudden, we had about 15 minutes before the swim start. We quickly found Tim's mom, gave her our tri bags, put on cheap grocery store socks we had purchased the day before, and made our way to the lake. Mike Reilly (aka my Ironman boyfriend) was working the mic at this point...and the music was booming. The pros were off at 6:50am. They hit the swim hard. The line that Tim and I were in began to move as the age groupers headed into the water. We threw our socks in a pile of discarded clothing, kissed each other goodbye and good luck and jumped into the (freezing) 63 degree water. We had about a hundred yard swim to the actual start. Tim swam ahead while I found a spot near the middle of the pack. Mike Reilly was still working the mic...saying something like, "At the end of today, you are going to be an Ironman!" I took a minute to look around me and soak up the moment: There I was, about to race Ironman Arizona...an Ironman!
Bang. The gun went off. Boom. Two thousand-plus athletes hit the water.
My mom's big fear for the day was that I would "get drowned" during the lake swim. Not that I would drown, but "get drowned." She pictured 2,400 people swimming right on top of me for the full 2.4 miles. She made me promise to be careful and "stay alive out there." And if I had to guess, I'd say that her fists were clenched and her blood pressure was sky high and a million Rosaries were prayed during the entire swim.
So my mom was thrilled to see that I survived the swim. I actually felt really good during the swim (I knew then that the taper had worked); amazingly, it didn't seem like I was in the water all that long (even though I was for one hour and 15 minutes). I got banged up in the beginning - about four people hit my head, seven others kicked me, one big dude kept swimming into me (I could go on, but I won't). But for the most part, I kept my pace and my mind strong. And I got to watch the sun come up in between strokes.
Finally, I saw the stairs at the end of the swim. I swam and swam until my fingers touched the first stair. I felt two arms grab me - volunteers were pulling me out of the water. I stumbled up the rest of the stairs and down the carpeted sidewalk. I stopped in front of another volunteer to get my wetsuit stripped. Once my wetsuit was yanked off, I ran with it around the changing tents and into transition. Before I reached transition though, I made the mistake of looking down at my feet. They were purple. And they felt like frozen stumps. I decided not to think about my feet or how cold I was, and I found a volunteer inside the changing tent to help me into my bike outfit.
Next post - Race Report: The Bike!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Race Report, Part I
10 days after the Big Day and we're walking, going up and down stairs with ease, cleaning out our gym bags, folding our finishers t-shirts and...eating, a lot.I owe Team Middleton's readers the full on IMAZ race report, but until then (as in Monday at 9:50pm when Fall Quarter has officially ended), how about some race photos? (Many thanks to Team Hudsaruso and our families/cheerleaders for Race Day documentation!)
Monday, November 23, 2009
Triumph
We did it. We're Ironmen. Tim crossed the finish line in a whopping 10:34 and I crossed at 12:01 (oh, for two less minutes!).
In addition to Team Middleton, our entire group of Ironman friends - Topher, Roger, Jimmy, Laura, Devin, Rick - triumphed yesterday. So did Rudy Garcia-Tolson. So did 2,399 athletes, out of 2,516 that started the race.
The day was amazing and I'll have to write a full race report soon once my brain is fully rehydrated. Until then, I'll leave you with this short story -
It's race morning, about 5:40am. I'm in line for the porta-potties (where else would I be?) at transition. And then I freak: "I forgot my chip! I forgot my chip in the hotel room! Oh my gosh! What am I going to do?! I forgot my chip!" Topher, who's with me, says, "Calm down. You can get a replacement chip near the swim start." I try to calm down but simply can't. Now my heart is pumping and my blood pressure is up, way up. Tim walks me over to the swim start and I get a new chip. Major fiasco averted.
It's about 11pm last night. We're back in the hotel room, showered, exhausted, ready for bed. I pull my wet race clothes out of my tri bag and find - wait for it - my original chip. It was in my bag the whole time. I freaked for absolutely no reason.
This morning, at 8am, we're back at the race site. I need to return my original chip. I finally find an Ironman staffer and try to return my chip to him. He sends me to the registration tent, but since there's a long line there, I end up at the Kona slot tent. I walk to the side of the tent with the chip in my hand. And then I hear a voice: "Would you like to turn your chip in?" It's Paula Newby-Fraser!!! Paula, the Ironman icon! And so, I gave Paula my chip. And Paula took my chip. And that was awesome.
More later. Need to eat again now!
In addition to Team Middleton, our entire group of Ironman friends - Topher, Roger, Jimmy, Laura, Devin, Rick - triumphed yesterday. So did Rudy Garcia-Tolson. So did 2,399 athletes, out of 2,516 that started the race.
The day was amazing and I'll have to write a full race report soon once my brain is fully rehydrated. Until then, I'll leave you with this short story -
It's race morning, about 5:40am. I'm in line for the porta-potties (where else would I be?) at transition. And then I freak: "I forgot my chip! I forgot my chip in the hotel room! Oh my gosh! What am I going to do?! I forgot my chip!" Topher, who's with me, says, "Calm down. You can get a replacement chip near the swim start." I try to calm down but simply can't. Now my heart is pumping and my blood pressure is up, way up. Tim walks me over to the swim start and I get a new chip. Major fiasco averted.
It's about 11pm last night. We're back in the hotel room, showered, exhausted, ready for bed. I pull my wet race clothes out of my tri bag and find - wait for it - my original chip. It was in my bag the whole time. I freaked for absolutely no reason.
This morning, at 8am, we're back at the race site. I need to return my original chip. I finally find an Ironman staffer and try to return my chip to him. He sends me to the registration tent, but since there's a long line there, I end up at the Kona slot tent. I walk to the side of the tent with the chip in my hand. And then I hear a voice: "Would you like to turn your chip in?" It's Paula Newby-Fraser!!! Paula, the Ironman icon! And so, I gave Paula my chip. And Paula took my chip. And that was awesome.
More later. Need to eat again now!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Today's Docket
1). Do short brick workout at race site
2). Eat big lunch
3). Drop bikes and gear bags off at transition area
4). Find a Starbucks, drink a latte
5). Come home, finish race day prep
6). Cram in last-minute "Going Long" reading
7). Put on the iPod and stretch
8). Eat dinner
9). Try not to completely freak out
10). Go to bed and dream of donning my sweet tri outfit in the morning
Friday, November 20, 2009
Day One in Tempe
We should totally be in bed. But instead, we're cleaning our bikes and packing our transition and special needs bags. Our hotel suite has exploded; we've got bike degreaser in a coffee mug, Gu packets all over the kitchen counter and water bottles absolutely everywhere.
Race day is sooooo close now.
We drove down to the race site this morning for a training swim and Ironman check-in. Let me just tell you, Tempe Town "Lake" looks like one wide river. The water didn't taste that bad, but it was darn cold. And somehow I came out of the water with dirt on my face and in my nose. Slimy dirt. But I think slime reduces drag, so this could bode well for Sunday's 2.4-miler.
After swimming, we waited in line for a while to check in. Ironman makes you sign a two-page waiver that says, in essence, "If you die during this event, please don't sue us." I signed it. And then I picked up my race numbers and goody bag, which was full of other bags: morning clothes bag, swim-to-run bag, bike-to-run bag, bike special needs bag and run special needs bag. Let's hope I can keep all these bags straight...
Tonight we ate dinner with the 2,400 other competitors racing on Sunday. We hail from all 50 states and 32 countries. The oldest triathlete is 77 ("My peers are either dead or in assisted living homes" - God bless him) and the youngest is 18 (from Anchorage, AK).
But you know what the best part about tonight was? I found Mike Reilly, the Voice of Ironman [see earlier posts about finding Mike...clearly, I was unsuccessful]. The one and only Mike Reilly was tonight's emcee!
Actually, I have to take that back. Mike was the second best part of tonight's dinner. The best part was Rudy Garcia-Tolson, the young double amputee and an amazing athlete. Rudy will be racing IMAZ with the rest of us able-bodied athletes. "I'll motivate you out there and you give me motivation back." Rudy, you got it. I can't wait to see you out there. Just put those miles away and get to that finish line. You will do this.
Race day is sooooo close now.
We drove down to the race site this morning for a training swim and Ironman check-in. Let me just tell you, Tempe Town "Lake" looks like one wide river. The water didn't taste that bad, but it was darn cold. And somehow I came out of the water with dirt on my face and in my nose. Slimy dirt. But I think slime reduces drag, so this could bode well for Sunday's 2.4-miler.
After swimming, we waited in line for a while to check in. Ironman makes you sign a two-page waiver that says, in essence, "If you die during this event, please don't sue us." I signed it. And then I picked up my race numbers and goody bag, which was full of other bags: morning clothes bag, swim-to-run bag, bike-to-run bag, bike special needs bag and run special needs bag. Let's hope I can keep all these bags straight...
Tonight we ate dinner with the 2,400 other competitors racing on Sunday. We hail from all 50 states and 32 countries. The oldest triathlete is 77 ("My peers are either dead or in assisted living homes" - God bless him) and the youngest is 18 (from Anchorage, AK).
But you know what the best part about tonight was? I found Mike Reilly, the Voice of Ironman [see earlier posts about finding Mike...clearly, I was unsuccessful]. The one and only Mike Reilly was tonight's emcee!
Actually, I have to take that back. Mike was the second best part of tonight's dinner. The best part was Rudy Garcia-Tolson, the young double amputee and an amazing athlete. Rudy will be racing IMAZ with the rest of us able-bodied athletes. "I'll motivate you out there and you give me motivation back." Rudy, you got it. I can't wait to see you out there. Just put those miles away and get to that finish line. You will do this.
Good Morning, Arizona
We made it. We are currently lounging comfortably in the Grand Canyon State, hanging in our hotel suite with our bikes, wetsuits, tubs of Gatorade Endurance, multiple duffel bags and - most importantly - Starbucks coffees.
Yesterday's drive through the desert went well. Tim and I rocked out to a little Kings of Leon, U2, Dave Matthews and Shaggy (I was able to get only a few Shaggy songs in before Tim shut that down). We waved to other IMAZ participants we passed - the tri bikes latched to their cars were total give-aways.
So now we're here and trying to adjust to Mountain time. In a little while, we'll drive to Tempe Town Lake and take a dip in the 64 degree water. Then we'll drive the bike course. And then I'll work on not freaking out...at this very moment, we're 48 hours away.
I have to share a couple of lines from the Athlete Information Guide that I found, um, a tad humorous, if not downright frightening. Here we go:
1). "Athletes may not make progress on the bike course unaccompanied by their bicycle." All right, Bike, it's you and me for 112 miles. Good thing that's been the plan since the beginning.
2). On the run course - "No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling is allowed." Excuse me, crawling? I really hope it doesn't get that bad...
On that note, I need to find some Body Glide. Until next time!
Yesterday's drive through the desert went well. Tim and I rocked out to a little Kings of Leon, U2, Dave Matthews and Shaggy (I was able to get only a few Shaggy songs in before Tim shut that down). We waved to other IMAZ participants we passed - the tri bikes latched to their cars were total give-aways.
So now we're here and trying to adjust to Mountain time. In a little while, we'll drive to Tempe Town Lake and take a dip in the 64 degree water. Then we'll drive the bike course. And then I'll work on not freaking out...at this very moment, we're 48 hours away.
I have to share a couple of lines from the Athlete Information Guide that I found, um, a tad humorous, if not downright frightening. Here we go:
1). "Athletes may not make progress on the bike course unaccompanied by their bicycle." All right, Bike, it's you and me for 112 miles. Good thing that's been the plan since the beginning.
2). On the run course - "No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling is allowed." Excuse me, crawling? I really hope it doesn't get that bad...
On that note, I need to find some Body Glide. Until next time!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Arizona, Here We Come
In just a few hours, Tim and I will be heading for the 10 East with Tempe, AZ as our destination. Neither of us can believe it's time, but we're both ready to get this show on the road (literally!).
We'll be loading Tim's truck with our bikes and bike gear, race clothing, a bunch of water bottles and our entire kitchen. To the Hyatt in Tempe, we're movin' in for the weekend!
As for me, I packed a duffel bag and my tri backpack with almost my entire workout wardrobe. I packed 7 dri-fit shirts (we'll be there 4 days), at least 5 fleeces, 10 pairs of running socks, 6 pairs of workout pants, three jackets...I'm just trying to "be prepared." However, I did wrap my race outfit in a special bag and I did pack my running shoes before anything else. At least I have my packing priorities.
We're taking the day off, workout-wise. Yesterday, Team Middleton went on a morning bike ride. It was ridiculously cold. Despite 22 years on the east coast, I've turned into a complete cold weather wimp. Or my blood has thinned. (Maybe my blood has thinned). Tim and I also went for a quick swim at the UCI pool yesterday - our very last swim from the 16 week swim training program we've been following - a mere 8x25 yards and 5x100 yards. Done.
And that's it. We have done what we've done. The past six months all come down to this one weekend, to this one Sunday. We're ready to hop in the Toyota Tacoma and hip-hop our way to Tempe. Okay, I'm ready to hip-hop my way - Tim's ready to classic rock his way. Little does he know I packed my Kanye West cd in between my fleeces...
We'll talk to you next from Arizona!
We'll be loading Tim's truck with our bikes and bike gear, race clothing, a bunch of water bottles and our entire kitchen. To the Hyatt in Tempe, we're movin' in for the weekend!
As for me, I packed a duffel bag and my tri backpack with almost my entire workout wardrobe. I packed 7 dri-fit shirts (we'll be there 4 days), at least 5 fleeces, 10 pairs of running socks, 6 pairs of workout pants, three jackets...I'm just trying to "be prepared." However, I did wrap my race outfit in a special bag and I did pack my running shoes before anything else. At least I have my packing priorities.
We're taking the day off, workout-wise. Yesterday, Team Middleton went on a morning bike ride. It was ridiculously cold. Despite 22 years on the east coast, I've turned into a complete cold weather wimp. Or my blood has thinned. (Maybe my blood has thinned). Tim and I also went for a quick swim at the UCI pool yesterday - our very last swim from the 16 week swim training program we've been following - a mere 8x25 yards and 5x100 yards. Done.
And that's it. We have done what we've done. The past six months all come down to this one weekend, to this one Sunday. We're ready to hop in the Toyota Tacoma and hip-hop our way to Tempe. Okay, I'm ready to hip-hop my way - Tim's ready to classic rock his way. Little does he know I packed my Kanye West cd in between my fleeces...
We'll talk to you next from Arizona!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Shout Outs to Our Sponsors
Five days to go.
I figured now would be an appropriate time to thank Team Middleton's sponsors. "But wait," you say, "I didn't know Tim and Sarah were sponsored triathletes." Okay, truthfully, we're not. But still, we wouldn't have gotten to this point in our Ironman journey were it not for the great supporters below.
1). The Chevron station at Irvine and Culver
- Oh yeah, could NOT have made it on those Santiago Canyon double loop rides without this Chevron's restroom and water fountain
2). Cook's Corner
- For restrooms and water and free entertainment (more on Cook's Corner in an earlier post)
3). Odwalla
- I'd like to personally thank the makers of the Vanilla Almond Protein drinks for getting me through all runs 16 miles plus. Just the thought of that tasty little bottle waiting in my fridge was enough to keep my legs moving.
4). Body Glide and Chamois Cream
- For obvious reasons...
5). Gu
- Whoever created the Chocolate Outrage Gu has my undying love. Every time I pop one of those little packets of pure energy, I just tell myself I'm eating chocolate icing. A lot of chocolate icing. Works like a charm.
6). Mother's Market
- Art, this is for you, man! Thanks for ringing up our granola, fruit, almond milk, Clif bars, yogurt, more Clif bars, juices, smoothies, pasta, rice and beans and so much more every Friday night. Our caloric intake just wouldn't have been the same without you or the goodness of Mother's Market.
Well, there you have it. The entities that have seen us through our Ironman training. I wonder if any of them want to sponsor us for real...
I figured now would be an appropriate time to thank Team Middleton's sponsors. "But wait," you say, "I didn't know Tim and Sarah were sponsored triathletes." Okay, truthfully, we're not. But still, we wouldn't have gotten to this point in our Ironman journey were it not for the great supporters below.
1). The Chevron station at Irvine and Culver
- Oh yeah, could NOT have made it on those Santiago Canyon double loop rides without this Chevron's restroom and water fountain
2). Cook's Corner
- For restrooms and water and free entertainment (more on Cook's Corner in an earlier post)
3). Odwalla
- I'd like to personally thank the makers of the Vanilla Almond Protein drinks for getting me through all runs 16 miles plus. Just the thought of that tasty little bottle waiting in my fridge was enough to keep my legs moving.
4). Body Glide and Chamois Cream
- For obvious reasons...
5). Gu
- Whoever created the Chocolate Outrage Gu has my undying love. Every time I pop one of those little packets of pure energy, I just tell myself I'm eating chocolate icing. A lot of chocolate icing. Works like a charm.
6). Mother's Market
- Art, this is for you, man! Thanks for ringing up our granola, fruit, almond milk, Clif bars, yogurt, more Clif bars, juices, smoothies, pasta, rice and beans and so much more every Friday night. Our caloric intake just wouldn't have been the same without you or the goodness of Mother's Market.
Well, there you have it. The entities that have seen us through our Ironman training. I wonder if any of them want to sponsor us for real...
Sunday, November 15, 2009
One Week to Go
Oh. My. Goodness! Ironman Arizona is one week away. How in the world did this happen?!
We're heading out on a two hour brick workout soon. Today marks the last day of Taper. Starting tomorrow, we head into Race week and reduce the volume of our workouts even more.
This time next week, we'll be swimming in Tempe Town Lake. Tim's swim plan? To swim around the buoys and finish in a respectable time. My swim plan? Avoid swallowing the detritus in the water.
Tim and I are now talking non-stop about Ironman. A conversation about what to have for dinner invariably turns into a race day nutrition talk. A conversation about getting the car's oil changed morphs into a discussion on race day transitions. We are wholly consumed.
Oh. My. Goodness...
We're heading out on a two hour brick workout soon. Today marks the last day of Taper. Starting tomorrow, we head into Race week and reduce the volume of our workouts even more.
This time next week, we'll be swimming in Tempe Town Lake. Tim's swim plan? To swim around the buoys and finish in a respectable time. My swim plan? Avoid swallowing the detritus in the water.
Tim and I are now talking non-stop about Ironman. A conversation about what to have for dinner invariably turns into a race day nutrition talk. A conversation about getting the car's oil changed morphs into a discussion on race day transitions. We are wholly consumed.
Oh. My. Goodness...
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Finding Mike Reilly, Part Deux
Back in October, I wrote about finding Mike Reilly, Ironman's race day announcer. My plan was to find Mike and convince him to play the song that symbolizes the Ironman finish line for me on November 22.
Um, about that plan...
I haven't found Mike. In fact, I haven't really tried to find Mike. I did look for him on Facebook, but to no avail. I did Google him a bit, but all that popped up were some archived interviews. And then I moved on to other important things - like homework and sleeping and ironing (oh wait, Tim did the ironing).
The good news is that I would make a very bad stalker. The bad news is that my quest to find Mike might just have to wait until Team Middleton lands in Tempe, AZ. And that's just a few short days away...
Stay tuned.
Um, about that plan...
I haven't found Mike. In fact, I haven't really tried to find Mike. I did look for him on Facebook, but to no avail. I did Google him a bit, but all that popped up were some archived interviews. And then I moved on to other important things - like homework and sleeping and ironing (oh wait, Tim did the ironing).
The good news is that I would make a very bad stalker. The bad news is that my quest to find Mike might just have to wait until Team Middleton lands in Tempe, AZ. And that's just a few short days away...
Stay tuned.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
This Is How We Ride
Since we're documenting our IMAZ training, it's a necessity that we throw a couple pictures on this blog. As you know, Tim likes to fly below the radar, so don't tell him I posted these sweet photos...
2.27 Mile Swim? Check.
Tuesday, November 10 marked Team Middleton's last long swim: 4,000 yards. Tim conquered the swim yesterday morning and I triumped yesterday evening.
4,000 yards is a long time to spend in the water. The entire workout took Tim just under an hour and me just over an hour. I tried to keep my mind as numb as possible during the 160 lengths of the pool, concentrating on my breathing, stroke pull and the smell of pine. (Yes, the guy in the lane next to me was wearing extremely strong cologne - strangely, I enjoyed it and was a bit disappointed when he hopped out).
In 12 more days, we'll be swimming 4,224 yards, followed by a 112 mile bike and a 26.2 mile run. (Gulp.)
I'm quivering in my boots - I mean - bike shoes.
But it's not time to head for the Arizona desert just yet. We still have a few more swims, a few more bricks, a couple short bike rides, maybe an easy run or two. And some serious hydrating.
Getting closer...
4,000 yards is a long time to spend in the water. The entire workout took Tim just under an hour and me just over an hour. I tried to keep my mind as numb as possible during the 160 lengths of the pool, concentrating on my breathing, stroke pull and the smell of pine. (Yes, the guy in the lane next to me was wearing extremely strong cologne - strangely, I enjoyed it and was a bit disappointed when he hopped out).
In 12 more days, we'll be swimming 4,224 yards, followed by a 112 mile bike and a 26.2 mile run. (Gulp.)
I'm quivering in my boots - I mean - bike shoes.
But it's not time to head for the Arizona desert just yet. We still have a few more swims, a few more bricks, a couple short bike rides, maybe an easy run or two. And some serious hydrating.
Getting closer...
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Lovin' the Taper
I've been up for one hour. I've had breakfast, made the bed, read yesterday's WSJ, hung up some clothes, cruised Facebook, and am now drinking some coffee.
I have 90 minutes before heading out on this morning's ride. If I'm lucky (and motored by enough coffee), I might get in a little homework before donning my spandex, too.
I am giddy. Why, you ask? Because today's ride is...wait for it...only three hours. Only three hours! And today's run? Only one hour! A four hour workout! I'm swooning over it!
Since Monday, Tim and I have been tapering. Our taper period is broken into two components: two Peak weeks and one Race week. During the Peak period, we will be reducing our training volume but adding intensity. During Race week, we will be reducing the volume even further. The purpose of tapering is to give our bodies time to absorb all the training we've put in over the past few months - essentially, we're vying to reach our physiological peaks.
Today's workout is also a race simulation. You know what that means: no stopping, not even for the bathroom. You know what that means for this blogger's bladder: grow or go.
And on that note, I think I need to start hydrating. And stretching. And taping some Gus to my bike. And applying sunscreen. Yeah, probably no time for homework this morning - if only I could taper on school, too (just kidding, all my paper graders out there)...
I have 90 minutes before heading out on this morning's ride. If I'm lucky (and motored by enough coffee), I might get in a little homework before donning my spandex, too.
I am giddy. Why, you ask? Because today's ride is...wait for it...only three hours. Only three hours! And today's run? Only one hour! A four hour workout! I'm swooning over it!
Since Monday, Tim and I have been tapering. Our taper period is broken into two components: two Peak weeks and one Race week. During the Peak period, we will be reducing our training volume but adding intensity. During Race week, we will be reducing the volume even further. The purpose of tapering is to give our bodies time to absorb all the training we've put in over the past few months - essentially, we're vying to reach our physiological peaks.
Today's workout is also a race simulation. You know what that means: no stopping, not even for the bathroom. You know what that means for this blogger's bladder: grow or go.
And on that note, I think I need to start hydrating. And stretching. And taping some Gus to my bike. And applying sunscreen. Yeah, probably no time for homework this morning - if only I could taper on school, too (just kidding, all my paper graders out there)...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
It's November
I have a midterm tomorrow. I should be studying. I should not be drinking that second glass of wine right now. But alas, the wine wins and learning loses.
Because it's November! It's race month! Exactly three weeks from today, Team Middleton will be swimming and biking and running in Ironman Arizona. Bring. It.
This weekend marked our last long brick workout. Tim biked and ran yesterday while I made about 27 cups of tea and popped at least 49 cough drops (thank you, common cold) at home. Tim returned from his 10 mile run around the Back Bay triumphant - and a bit dehydrated. Ok, really dehydrated.
I was determined to stay hydrated during my brick today. I got out on the bike and practiced drinking water from my aero bottle. Aside from the fact that I kept poking my face with the straw, it went well. Staying hydrated on the run? Not so great. I returned home broken by the Back Bay sun and a personal water shortage. Note to self: Don't let this happen on November 22.
Tim and I are now celebrating the end of heavy training days - and mourning the end of 'strapping on the feed bag' days. Evidently, now that we're tapering, we can't eat absolutely everything in the fridge and, um, cupboard, um, every day of the week.
But I can still strap on the feed bag tonight. So, I will bid you adieu, grab a third glass of wine and head on over to the kitchen where my snacks - I mean, studying - awaits.
Because it's November! It's race month! Exactly three weeks from today, Team Middleton will be swimming and biking and running in Ironman Arizona. Bring. It.
This weekend marked our last long brick workout. Tim biked and ran yesterday while I made about 27 cups of tea and popped at least 49 cough drops (thank you, common cold) at home. Tim returned from his 10 mile run around the Back Bay triumphant - and a bit dehydrated. Ok, really dehydrated.
I was determined to stay hydrated during my brick today. I got out on the bike and practiced drinking water from my aero bottle. Aside from the fact that I kept poking my face with the straw, it went well. Staying hydrated on the run? Not so great. I returned home broken by the Back Bay sun and a personal water shortage. Note to self: Don't let this happen on November 22.
Tim and I are now celebrating the end of heavy training days - and mourning the end of 'strapping on the feed bag' days. Evidently, now that we're tapering, we can't eat absolutely everything in the fridge and, um, cupboard, um, every day of the week.
But I can still strap on the feed bag tonight. So, I will bid you adieu, grab a third glass of wine and head on over to the kitchen where my snacks - I mean, studying - awaits.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Winding Down
Unbelievable: It's nearly time to wind down Ironman training. Our taper starts Monday. I mean, where did the time go? How in the world did we get to this point in our Ironman adventure?
Tim ran his last long run Tuesday. I ran my last long run yesterday. Tim biked his last early-morning ride this morning. And I've got one more meeting with the bike trainer tomorrow morning.
Saturday marks our very last intense brick workout. We'll ride about 70 miles and run for 90 minutes.
Dang. I hope all these months of crazy training pay off on November 22.
I should say that our swimming won't really taper off. In fact, our swimming yardage will increase up until one week before the race.
For instance, I swam 3,500 yards at the UCI pool tonight. Um, yeah, that's a long time to be underwater. I try to keep my mind occupied for the hour I'm in the pool. Tonight, I thought about work, what I wanted for dinner, why the guy in the lane next to me was wearing what he was wearing, what I wore for Halloween 1986 - you get the idea. I just try to tune out while I'm swimming back and forth and back and forth.
So, starting Monday, we'll be swimming more and biking and running less. And counting down the days till we dive into Tempe Town Lake and think about nothing more than the long day ahead of us - and the pH level of the water. :)
Tim ran his last long run Tuesday. I ran my last long run yesterday. Tim biked his last early-morning ride this morning. And I've got one more meeting with the bike trainer tomorrow morning.
Saturday marks our very last intense brick workout. We'll ride about 70 miles and run for 90 minutes.
Dang. I hope all these months of crazy training pay off on November 22.
I should say that our swimming won't really taper off. In fact, our swimming yardage will increase up until one week before the race.
For instance, I swam 3,500 yards at the UCI pool tonight. Um, yeah, that's a long time to be underwater. I try to keep my mind occupied for the hour I'm in the pool. Tonight, I thought about work, what I wanted for dinner, why the guy in the lane next to me was wearing what he was wearing, what I wore for Halloween 1986 - you get the idea. I just try to tune out while I'm swimming back and forth and back and forth.
So, starting Monday, we'll be swimming more and biking and running less. And counting down the days till we dive into Tempe Town Lake and think about nothing more than the long day ahead of us - and the pH level of the water. :)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Finding Mike Reilly
Disclaimer: I swear I'm not a stalker.
It's inescapable the sway that Chris Brown's "Forever" song has over me.* Domestic violence aside, I get seriously fired up at the first beats of that tune.
When I run with my iPod, "Forever" gets put on repeat - several times.
And the song always conjures the same image in my mind: me, running down the chute at Ironman Arizona, heading toward the finish line and official Ironman announcer Mike Reilly, who, incidentally is blasting "Forever" from the announcer's box.
Then it hit me today: Find Mike Reilly and ask him to play "Forever" at Ironman Arizona!
Now, mind you, this idea came to me after several hours on my bike, so I wasn't exactly "with it." But now that the idea has firmly lodged itself in my frontal lobe, I must act on it. I must find Mike Reilly. And I don't have much time left.
So, bring on LinkedIn. Bring on Facebook. Bring on Googling up the wazoo. Bring on tweeting and texting and tri-ing my hardest to find Mike.
Yes, this is a strange mission. And yes, I think training for Ironman has finally, wholly consumed me. But, considering that the dude gets accosted by Ironmen and women on a regular basis, I bet he's up for this challenge.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Googling to do...
*As evidenced by the fact that this is my second post devoting way too much time to this song...
It's inescapable the sway that Chris Brown's "Forever" song has over me.* Domestic violence aside, I get seriously fired up at the first beats of that tune.
When I run with my iPod, "Forever" gets put on repeat - several times.
And the song always conjures the same image in my mind: me, running down the chute at Ironman Arizona, heading toward the finish line and official Ironman announcer Mike Reilly, who, incidentally is blasting "Forever" from the announcer's box.
Then it hit me today: Find Mike Reilly and ask him to play "Forever" at Ironman Arizona!
Now, mind you, this idea came to me after several hours on my bike, so I wasn't exactly "with it." But now that the idea has firmly lodged itself in my frontal lobe, I must act on it. I must find Mike Reilly. And I don't have much time left.
So, bring on LinkedIn. Bring on Facebook. Bring on Googling up the wazoo. Bring on tweeting and texting and tri-ing my hardest to find Mike.
Yes, this is a strange mission. And yes, I think training for Ironman has finally, wholly consumed me. But, considering that the dude gets accosted by Ironmen and women on a regular basis, I bet he's up for this challenge.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Googling to do...
*As evidenced by the fact that this is my second post devoting way too much time to this song...
Thursday, October 22, 2009
One Month to Go
Oh. My. Goodness. Do you know what today is? It’s October 22nd! [Insert shout-outs here: Happy anniversary, Barb & Kevin! Happy birthday, Noah! Happy un-birthdays to the rest of you!] Do you know what happens exactly one month from today? That’s right: Ironman Arizona.
I measure time now in reference to race day. Thanksgiving feels eons away, even though it’s just a few short days after Ironman. Halloween? I’m pretty sure I missed it. In fact, if you asked me what month it was, I’d most likely answer November.
So does this attitude toward time mean I’m ‘in the zone’? Or does it mean all the Gu and Gatorade Endurance have truly, finally, successfully addled my brain?
I’m not sure, but lately, I do find myself consumed with thoughts of November 22. And my behavior shows it.
When I’m running on the sidewalks these days, I don’t allow myself to step on anything but the cement pavement. I specifically run to the edges of sidewalks to avoid those metal doors.
I wash my tri shorts a certain way. I hang my tri shorts up to dry a certain way.
After I’m done swimming, I place my goggles back in my gym bag a certain way.
Every time I get off my bike, I unclip from my pedals a certain way.
Hmm. And now I officially sound neurotic.
If this is what’s happening a month out from race day, then I can only imagine what superstitions will take hold of me a few weeks from now...
Bring on Ironman.
I measure time now in reference to race day. Thanksgiving feels eons away, even though it’s just a few short days after Ironman. Halloween? I’m pretty sure I missed it. In fact, if you asked me what month it was, I’d most likely answer November.
So does this attitude toward time mean I’m ‘in the zone’? Or does it mean all the Gu and Gatorade Endurance have truly, finally, successfully addled my brain?
I’m not sure, but lately, I do find myself consumed with thoughts of November 22. And my behavior shows it.
When I’m running on the sidewalks these days, I don’t allow myself to step on anything but the cement pavement. I specifically run to the edges of sidewalks to avoid those metal doors.
I wash my tri shorts a certain way. I hang my tri shorts up to dry a certain way.
After I’m done swimming, I place my goggles back in my gym bag a certain way.
Every time I get off my bike, I unclip from my pedals a certain way.
Hmm. And now I officially sound neurotic.
If this is what’s happening a month out from race day, then I can only imagine what superstitions will take hold of me a few weeks from now...
Bring on Ironman.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Ironman: Going Vogue?
I should be doing homework. But instead, I’m ruminating on this past week of Ironman training. Last Saturday, at approximately mile 77 of my 111-mile ride, I passed a male cyclist on a hill in Santiago Canyon and he said this: “Wow. Sexy.”
I was having trouble breathing (like I said, I was on a hill) and so I did not respond. But the dude made my ride. I’m not sure if the “sexy” comment was a reference to my hill prowess, my bike, or (more likely) my pink shorts.
Back home that afternoon, Tim reported a car full of girls hooted at him during his ride. Could the hooting have been prompted by his sweet bike, red tri shorts, or (my personal opinion) calf muscles?
I don’t know. But I do feel lately that Pacific Coast Highway has turned into the triathlete’s version of a red carpet.
Take, for instance, my long run on Wednesday night. There I was, shimmying down PCH, rocking out to Chris Brown’s “Forever.” I visualized myself in Tempe on November 22, being serenaded by Ironman announcer Mike Reilly as I made my way toward the finish chute, “Girl, where did you come from?” “I won’t let you fall, girl.” “Double your fun!”
And then I visualized myself giving an air high-five to Mike close to the finish line. You know it, Mike! “Look what I can do with my feet!” I mean, JK Wedding Entrance Dance – seriously, move over. Clearly, “Forever” is best-suited for an Ironman finish line dance.
And then there was yesterday. Tim and I ran 21 miles in the morning – Tim in his black shorts and white tri top and I in my running shorts and once-pink-now-gray-and-totally-smelly top – and then hoofed it over to TriZone for some necessary training supplies.
While at TriZone, we inspected the race apparel and consulted with the store manager.
Sarah: “Do you have any women’s white race jerseys?”
Store manager: “No, do you want to wear a men’s jersey instead?”
Sarah: “Um, no, thanks.”
Store manager: “Are you trying to match your tri outfit? Or is it okay if you non-match?”
Note: This was a real conversation. With a guy.
Sarah: “You know, at this point, I’m willing to non-match. I’m just trying to find comfortable race gear.”
And wouldn’t you know – I think I found it, courtesy of TriZone. Today, I biked and ran in classic blue (with purple and teal piping) tri shorts and a navy blue (with white accents) tri top. I loved it. I felt so – non-matching, yes, but so in vogue (my version) as well.
So, for the next couple of intense-training weeks, I will most likely be wearing my non-matching blue outfit, boogie-ing down PCH and over the hills of Santiago Canyon, rocking out to my iPod.
That should earn me at least a hoot – from Tim.
I was having trouble breathing (like I said, I was on a hill) and so I did not respond. But the dude made my ride. I’m not sure if the “sexy” comment was a reference to my hill prowess, my bike, or (more likely) my pink shorts.
Back home that afternoon, Tim reported a car full of girls hooted at him during his ride. Could the hooting have been prompted by his sweet bike, red tri shorts, or (my personal opinion) calf muscles?
I don’t know. But I do feel lately that Pacific Coast Highway has turned into the triathlete’s version of a red carpet.
Take, for instance, my long run on Wednesday night. There I was, shimmying down PCH, rocking out to Chris Brown’s “Forever.” I visualized myself in Tempe on November 22, being serenaded by Ironman announcer Mike Reilly as I made my way toward the finish chute, “Girl, where did you come from?” “I won’t let you fall, girl.” “Double your fun!”
And then I visualized myself giving an air high-five to Mike close to the finish line. You know it, Mike! “Look what I can do with my feet!” I mean, JK Wedding Entrance Dance – seriously, move over. Clearly, “Forever” is best-suited for an Ironman finish line dance.
And then there was yesterday. Tim and I ran 21 miles in the morning – Tim in his black shorts and white tri top and I in my running shorts and once-pink-now-gray-and-totally-smelly top – and then hoofed it over to TriZone for some necessary training supplies.
While at TriZone, we inspected the race apparel and consulted with the store manager.
Sarah: “Do you have any women’s white race jerseys?”
Store manager: “No, do you want to wear a men’s jersey instead?”
Sarah: “Um, no, thanks.”
Store manager: “Are you trying to match your tri outfit? Or is it okay if you non-match?”
Note: This was a real conversation. With a guy.
Sarah: “You know, at this point, I’m willing to non-match. I’m just trying to find comfortable race gear.”
And wouldn’t you know – I think I found it, courtesy of TriZone. Today, I biked and ran in classic blue (with purple and teal piping) tri shorts and a navy blue (with white accents) tri top. I loved it. I felt so – non-matching, yes, but so in vogue (my version) as well.
So, for the next couple of intense-training weeks, I will most likely be wearing my non-matching blue outfit, boogie-ing down PCH and over the hills of Santiago Canyon, rocking out to my iPod.
That should earn me at least a hoot – from Tim.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
It's All Gu'd
I haven’t written in a while. But I have a good explanation for that: I went back to school. Ah, school. I do enjoy learning and reading and networking and the good ol’ paper-writing challenge (sometimes), but I have to admit this school-gig is a bit tougher now that I’m an Ironman-in-training. These days, I say goodbye to Tim on my way to work Monday morning and speak my next words to him Wednesday night after returning from my long post-work run. I now show up in class on Mondays and Tuesdays with wet hair (that doesn’t do much for networking, I know) and reeking of chlorine from the UCI pool (I love that smell!).
If only I could figure out how to get my Business & Government readings into a podcast, my bike rides would be so much more educational.
But as Tim reminds me, we only have three more weeks of intense workouts. And then, the almighty Taper. Tim and I are both clinging to thoughts of the Taper. Tim is looking forward to not-so-early morning bike rides and I am looking forward to a bit less rushing around from work to my workout to class or piles of homework.
It’s unbelievable how far we’ve come in training…and a bit mindboggling to know that we’re closer than ever to Race day. This month, we’re concentrating on miles and more miles – riding 100+ miles on Saturdays, followed by 60-90 minute runs, followed by long swims and longer runs on Sundays, followed by the usual mix of swimming, biking and running during the work week.
We do realize how much we’ve been focused on training. There are friends we haven’t seen. Calls to family members we haven’t made. Books and magazines we haven’t read. Haus of Pizza pizzas we haven’t eaten. And the list goes on. But we’ve got to stay in this zone just a little while longer. November 22 is looming and we have got to be ready.
I will say this for Ironman training; you spend a lot of time in your mind. Sure, you spend a lot of time building muscles in your arms and legs to carry you for 140.6 miles over one day, but you also strengthen your mental stamina. For the record, my mental stamina gets a boost every time I look at my pink tri shorts (that’s right, I went pink).
So, it’s all good. The training, the school-thing, work, our non-existent social lives, the constant aroma of sweaty racing apparel filling our apartment, the buckets of sports-drink powder that clutter our kitchen, the never-ending consumption of Chocolate Outrage Gus… We’ve only got a little while longer.
(Perhaps I should say instead: It’s all Gu’d.)
If only I could figure out how to get my Business & Government readings into a podcast, my bike rides would be so much more educational.
But as Tim reminds me, we only have three more weeks of intense workouts. And then, the almighty Taper. Tim and I are both clinging to thoughts of the Taper. Tim is looking forward to not-so-early morning bike rides and I am looking forward to a bit less rushing around from work to my workout to class or piles of homework.
It’s unbelievable how far we’ve come in training…and a bit mindboggling to know that we’re closer than ever to Race day. This month, we’re concentrating on miles and more miles – riding 100+ miles on Saturdays, followed by 60-90 minute runs, followed by long swims and longer runs on Sundays, followed by the usual mix of swimming, biking and running during the work week.
We do realize how much we’ve been focused on training. There are friends we haven’t seen. Calls to family members we haven’t made. Books and magazines we haven’t read. Haus of Pizza pizzas we haven’t eaten. And the list goes on. But we’ve got to stay in this zone just a little while longer. November 22 is looming and we have got to be ready.
I will say this for Ironman training; you spend a lot of time in your mind. Sure, you spend a lot of time building muscles in your arms and legs to carry you for 140.6 miles over one day, but you also strengthen your mental stamina. For the record, my mental stamina gets a boost every time I look at my pink tri shorts (that’s right, I went pink).
So, it’s all good. The training, the school-thing, work, our non-existent social lives, the constant aroma of sweaty racing apparel filling our apartment, the buckets of sports-drink powder that clutter our kitchen, the never-ending consumption of Chocolate Outrage Gus… We’ve only got a little while longer.
(Perhaps I should say instead: It’s all Gu’d.)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Another Week in the Books
It's Sunday afternoon and Tim and I just put another Ironman training week in the books. We've got a mere five heavy weeks to go before tapering.
I'm sitting on our living room floor with my trusty Endurox recovery drink beside me and a couple of frozen pea packages on my knees. Who knew that when you turned 30 the knees turn a tad uncooperative?
We ran 13 miles around the Back Bay just a bit ago. This followed our longest Saturday brick workout to date: I rode 100 miles - Tim rode 110 miles - and we both ran an hour. When I finished the brick yesterday, my white tank top was a grayish color and my face, neck and arms were peppered with little black bugs that had had the misfortune of being in my way during the bike ride.
Speaking of the bike ride, I met a couple of interesting cyclists along my route. Lexi (met her in Santiago Canyon) races in 100 mile trail rides. And Ira (met him at a red light in Irvine...and then kept seeing him at subsequent red lights) is cycling in the Hemet double next Sunday.
Me: "So, Ira, when you say 'double,' do you mean two centuries?"
Ira: "Yes. We'll start at 5am and hopefully finish before it gets dark."
Me: "Yeah. Good luck with that, dude."
And this is why I love crazy people. There's something for every endurance junkie...trail rides out the wazoo, double centuries, ultra marathons, Ironmans...triple Ironmans. For the record, yours truly will not be participating in a triple Ironman, but good to know there are triple-crazy people in this world.
We'll keep plugging away with our Ironman Arizona training. A quick glance at next week's schedule shows a near three hour run on Wednesday night and a 100+ mile bike ride/run on Saturday. Lexi, Ira, and my trusty spate of Orange County restrooms - can I count on you to see me through another week?
Signing off now. I think more Endurox is in order...
I'm sitting on our living room floor with my trusty Endurox recovery drink beside me and a couple of frozen pea packages on my knees. Who knew that when you turned 30 the knees turn a tad uncooperative?
We ran 13 miles around the Back Bay just a bit ago. This followed our longest Saturday brick workout to date: I rode 100 miles - Tim rode 110 miles - and we both ran an hour. When I finished the brick yesterday, my white tank top was a grayish color and my face, neck and arms were peppered with little black bugs that had had the misfortune of being in my way during the bike ride.
Speaking of the bike ride, I met a couple of interesting cyclists along my route. Lexi (met her in Santiago Canyon) races in 100 mile trail rides. And Ira (met him at a red light in Irvine...and then kept seeing him at subsequent red lights) is cycling in the Hemet double next Sunday.
Me: "So, Ira, when you say 'double,' do you mean two centuries?"
Ira: "Yes. We'll start at 5am and hopefully finish before it gets dark."
Me: "Yeah. Good luck with that, dude."
And this is why I love crazy people. There's something for every endurance junkie...trail rides out the wazoo, double centuries, ultra marathons, Ironmans...triple Ironmans. For the record, yours truly will not be participating in a triple Ironman, but good to know there are triple-crazy people in this world.
We'll keep plugging away with our Ironman Arizona training. A quick glance at next week's schedule shows a near three hour run on Wednesday night and a 100+ mile bike ride/run on Saturday. Lexi, Ira, and my trusty spate of Orange County restrooms - can I count on you to see me through another week?
Signing off now. I think more Endurox is in order...
Friday, September 25, 2009
Saturdays at Cook's Corner
Our drink bottles are in the fridge. The packets of Gu are on the kitchen counter. The bike tires are pumped. Yep, Tim and I are ready for another 100 mile Saturday bike ride in the morning.
Our Saturday bike rides most often include a run through Santiago Canyon, a two-lane country road in Orange and Irvine. I typically have to use the restroom about 12 miles into the Canyon. Lucky for me, there is a restroom 12 miles into the Canyon, in the form of Cook's Corner.
Cook's Corner is, um, special. I don't know how else to put it. It's a true biker's bar. You show up to the Cook's Corner parking lot anytime of the day and you're bound to see at least six Harley Davidsons and at least eight men and women smoking cigarettes.
I always like walking into Cook's Corner. The place is chock-full of men with mustaches (ladies, too) and pitchers of beer - at 8:30am on a Saturday. The place is also chock-full of leather; leather jackets, leather vests, leather pants, leather boots, leather motorcycle decorations, leather baby onesies. I'm not kidding. The onesies are for real.
So there I am - and fellow cyclists are - suited up in our spandex, click-clacking through Cook's Corner in our cycling shoes amidst the beer and mustaches, refilling our water bottles, using the restroom and catching the latest game score on TV (and then getting back on our bikes for another 75 miles). I'm sure the bikers think we're missing out on perfectly good leather...
If you have to be on a 100 mile ride, it's good to stop at Cook's...
Our Saturday bike rides most often include a run through Santiago Canyon, a two-lane country road in Orange and Irvine. I typically have to use the restroom about 12 miles into the Canyon. Lucky for me, there is a restroom 12 miles into the Canyon, in the form of Cook's Corner.
Cook's Corner is, um, special. I don't know how else to put it. It's a true biker's bar. You show up to the Cook's Corner parking lot anytime of the day and you're bound to see at least six Harley Davidsons and at least eight men and women smoking cigarettes.
I always like walking into Cook's Corner. The place is chock-full of men with mustaches (ladies, too) and pitchers of beer - at 8:30am on a Saturday. The place is also chock-full of leather; leather jackets, leather vests, leather pants, leather boots, leather motorcycle decorations, leather baby onesies. I'm not kidding. The onesies are for real.
So there I am - and fellow cyclists are - suited up in our spandex, click-clacking through Cook's Corner in our cycling shoes amidst the beer and mustaches, refilling our water bottles, using the restroom and catching the latest game score on TV (and then getting back on our bikes for another 75 miles). I'm sure the bikers think we're missing out on perfectly good leather...
If you have to be on a 100 mile ride, it's good to stop at Cook's...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Tim Time
There have been requests for a certain Tim Middleton (as in the other half of Team Middleton) to guest blog here.
I think if I ply him with enough Hop Ottin’ IPA, we just might see a special post from the man sporting the mutton, I mean, iron chops.
I think if I ply him with enough Hop Ottin’ IPA, we just might see a special post from the man sporting the mutton, I mean, iron chops.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
A Major Milestone (Rather, 100 Of Them)
Today, I rode my first century. (For all our non-cyclist readers, a century equals 100 miles.)
I rode and I rode and I rode. For about six hours. With Tim. Around the Back Bay, up Santiago Canyon, around the Back Bay again, over to Laguna Canyon, against seriously massive headwinds, up PCH, up Newport Coast and back home. I stopped to use the restroom three times in the first hour and 14 minutes of riding. I don't think Tim was amused.
After about 90 miles of riding, I was no longer amused. I wanted off the bike. I wanted my legs to stop hurting. And I wanted a hamburger.
I'm finding that once I cross a certain time limit on the run or on the bike, I turn aggressive (read: b*tchy).
Take today, for instance. Tim coached me along the ride, helping me with my pedal stroke and encouraging me to ride faster and stronger. For a while, I joked with him. We laughed when we saw a cyclist riding with a cup of coffee in Irvine. And then, 90 miles in, I turned on him.
"Don't you dare ask me to power it up this hill!" I commanded while riding up Newport Coast. "Ride in front of me or behind me - don't ride beside me!" "Don't tell me what time it is! I need positive reinforcement!"
The poor guy. Here he is, helping me through my first 100 miler of Ironman training, and I go ape on him.
Once we hit 97 miles, I was back to my normal self. Dr. Jekyll had returned; Mr. Hyde had gone. The finish line was in sight.
I was elated to get home and off my bike today. We followed up the bike with a four mile run. My legs were shredded by the time I got back home for good. I can't imagine riding an additional 12 miles and then running 22.2 more miles... Tim says that's why we'll be doing several more 100+ mile rides and post-ride runs.
Next century ride, I'll work on keeping my inner ape in check. That, or I'll bring earplugs for my training partner...
I rode and I rode and I rode. For about six hours. With Tim. Around the Back Bay, up Santiago Canyon, around the Back Bay again, over to Laguna Canyon, against seriously massive headwinds, up PCH, up Newport Coast and back home. I stopped to use the restroom three times in the first hour and 14 minutes of riding. I don't think Tim was amused.
After about 90 miles of riding, I was no longer amused. I wanted off the bike. I wanted my legs to stop hurting. And I wanted a hamburger.
I'm finding that once I cross a certain time limit on the run or on the bike, I turn aggressive (read: b*tchy).
Take today, for instance. Tim coached me along the ride, helping me with my pedal stroke and encouraging me to ride faster and stronger. For a while, I joked with him. We laughed when we saw a cyclist riding with a cup of coffee in Irvine. And then, 90 miles in, I turned on him.
"Don't you dare ask me to power it up this hill!" I commanded while riding up Newport Coast. "Ride in front of me or behind me - don't ride beside me!" "Don't tell me what time it is! I need positive reinforcement!"
The poor guy. Here he is, helping me through my first 100 miler of Ironman training, and I go ape on him.
Once we hit 97 miles, I was back to my normal self. Dr. Jekyll had returned; Mr. Hyde had gone. The finish line was in sight.
I was elated to get home and off my bike today. We followed up the bike with a four mile run. My legs were shredded by the time I got back home for good. I can't imagine riding an additional 12 miles and then running 22.2 more miles... Tim says that's why we'll be doing several more 100+ mile rides and post-ride runs.
Next century ride, I'll work on keeping my inner ape in check. That, or I'll bring earplugs for my training partner...
Friday, September 11, 2009
Getting Closer to the Starting Line
IM Arizona is about 10 weeks away. At this point, we’ve got our training schedule down pat.
Monday: Bike and swim
Tuesday: Bike and long run
Wednesday: Swim
Thursday: Bike and hill run
Friday: Gym or bike or swim
Saturday: Long bike and run
Sunday: Hard swim and run
Pretty soon, my last year of grad school will wreak havoc with this finely tuned training schedule. Already, decreasing daylight has turned our two pre-work, long-ish weekday bike rides into three shorter rides.
This is where visualization (at least for me) comes in. More and more, as I’m training around Orange County, I visualize myself at Ironman in my sweet spandex outfit, swimming, biking and running my way toward the finish line - and this visualization keeps me going. I first learned about visualization as a high school cross country runner. Coach George would teach us girls to visualize each upcoming meet. George would send us off to visualize and we’d follow his instructions to a T. Typically, we’d visualize ourselves a mile down the road at the best ice cream shop in town. It always worked – we always got ice cream and then ran back to school, ready to race that Saturday.
Visualization is key for many, many athletes. It keeps your mental state focused and sharp. And it helps you prep again and again for race day. Maybe I should try visualizing bladder control…
Let me get reflective for a moment: I think I’ve come to the point of IM training where I think, “Man, we’ve been working hard since May. And geez, we still have a ways to go until we taper.” But the crazy thing is that we’re nearing the homestretch of training. And my favorite dri-fit run shirt smells like it. As do most of Tim’s shorts.
I am getting super pumped for Sunday, November 22. Come on legs, let’s go (get ice cream)!
Monday: Bike and swim
Tuesday: Bike and long run
Wednesday: Swim
Thursday: Bike and hill run
Friday: Gym or bike or swim
Saturday: Long bike and run
Sunday: Hard swim and run
Pretty soon, my last year of grad school will wreak havoc with this finely tuned training schedule. Already, decreasing daylight has turned our two pre-work, long-ish weekday bike rides into three shorter rides.
This is where visualization (at least for me) comes in. More and more, as I’m training around Orange County, I visualize myself at Ironman in my sweet spandex outfit, swimming, biking and running my way toward the finish line - and this visualization keeps me going. I first learned about visualization as a high school cross country runner. Coach George would teach us girls to visualize each upcoming meet. George would send us off to visualize and we’d follow his instructions to a T. Typically, we’d visualize ourselves a mile down the road at the best ice cream shop in town. It always worked – we always got ice cream and then ran back to school, ready to race that Saturday.
Visualization is key for many, many athletes. It keeps your mental state focused and sharp. And it helps you prep again and again for race day. Maybe I should try visualizing bladder control…
Let me get reflective for a moment: I think I’ve come to the point of IM training where I think, “Man, we’ve been working hard since May. And geez, we still have a ways to go until we taper.” But the crazy thing is that we’re nearing the homestretch of training. And my favorite dri-fit run shirt smells like it. As do most of Tim’s shorts.
I am getting super pumped for Sunday, November 22. Come on legs, let’s go (get ice cream)!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Weekend Update
Yesterday:
One brick workout consisting of the Santiago Canyon double, 7 bathroom stops, 6 water bottle refills, 1 "nice bike" comment, zero honks from truck drivers (darn), 1 seriously weird heat rash on my legs (I'm still not convinced I don't have West Nile) and one 6 mile run.
Today:
Heading out for a 20x25 and 20x100 workout in the pool, followed by a 75 minute run in the heat.
Later Today:
Consuming. Massive. Amounts. Of. Calories. (And hoping the heat rash leaves the legs!)
One brick workout consisting of the Santiago Canyon double, 7 bathroom stops, 6 water bottle refills, 1 "nice bike" comment, zero honks from truck drivers (darn), 1 seriously weird heat rash on my legs (I'm still not convinced I don't have West Nile) and one 6 mile run.
Today:
Heading out for a 20x25 and 20x100 workout in the pool, followed by a 75 minute run in the heat.
Later Today:
Consuming. Massive. Amounts. Of. Calories. (And hoping the heat rash leaves the legs!)
Friday, September 4, 2009
Grin and Bare It
Fair warning: this is not a post for the delicate.
So I've been a little bit busy as of late, hence no post since August 21. Tim and I continue to ramp up the mileage. This past week, our longest run was 17.5 miles. Our longest swim was 3,500 yards. My longest bike was 87 miles and Tim's was 101 miles. We've got a couple of intense brick workouts tomorrow and Sunday, and then...recovery week!
But back to the present. With all this swimming and biking and running, we're covering a lot of distance around Orange County. And by "covering a lot of distance," what I really mean to say is that I am forever searching for a bathroom during our workouts.
Dedicated blog readers and close family members will recall that I have an exceptionally small bladder. Road trips with me in your car take an extra 30 minutes to one hour, depending on the distance. I've been known to finish a triathlon or two with a little more than sweat in my shoes.
Alas, while the rest of me is prepping for an Ironman, my bladder seems to be regressing. (Maybe I'm just doing a really good job of hydrating...) But I'm taking it all in stride. Literally.
On a recent night run in Irvine, on a full bladder, I thought I had hit the jackpot when I came across a park restroom. As it turned out, the bathroom was locked for the evening and I was forced to improvise.
During last Saturday's bike ride, I was on the bike for 5 hours and 18 minutes. I used the restroom six times. Oy vey, this is going to make for a very long Ironman...
But the cherry was placed on top last week as Tim and I were running in El Moro, a maze of hilly dirt trails for mountain bikers, hikers and runners. Not even three minutes into the run, my bladder started screaming at me. I managed to make it 12 minutes before I pulled off the main trail and onto a side trail, shielded in part by shrubbery. Tim waited for me on the main trail as I heeded my bladder's calling.
And then I heard it: Voices. Moving quickly. On mountain bikes. Toward me. I was stuck. And so I grinned and bared it. Because really, what else could I do?
I'm pretty sure I gave those guys a good laugh. Heck, I gave myself a good laugh. But I still don't think I shocked my bladder into behaving.
Guess I'll just keep going. ;)
So I've been a little bit busy as of late, hence no post since August 21. Tim and I continue to ramp up the mileage. This past week, our longest run was 17.5 miles. Our longest swim was 3,500 yards. My longest bike was 87 miles and Tim's was 101 miles. We've got a couple of intense brick workouts tomorrow and Sunday, and then...recovery week!
But back to the present. With all this swimming and biking and running, we're covering a lot of distance around Orange County. And by "covering a lot of distance," what I really mean to say is that I am forever searching for a bathroom during our workouts.
Dedicated blog readers and close family members will recall that I have an exceptionally small bladder. Road trips with me in your car take an extra 30 minutes to one hour, depending on the distance. I've been known to finish a triathlon or two with a little more than sweat in my shoes.
Alas, while the rest of me is prepping for an Ironman, my bladder seems to be regressing. (Maybe I'm just doing a really good job of hydrating...) But I'm taking it all in stride. Literally.
On a recent night run in Irvine, on a full bladder, I thought I had hit the jackpot when I came across a park restroom. As it turned out, the bathroom was locked for the evening and I was forced to improvise.
During last Saturday's bike ride, I was on the bike for 5 hours and 18 minutes. I used the restroom six times. Oy vey, this is going to make for a very long Ironman...
But the cherry was placed on top last week as Tim and I were running in El Moro, a maze of hilly dirt trails for mountain bikers, hikers and runners. Not even three minutes into the run, my bladder started screaming at me. I managed to make it 12 minutes before I pulled off the main trail and onto a side trail, shielded in part by shrubbery. Tim waited for me on the main trail as I heeded my bladder's calling.
And then I heard it: Voices. Moving quickly. On mountain bikes. Toward me. I was stuck. And so I grinned and bared it. Because really, what else could I do?
I'm pretty sure I gave those guys a good laugh. Heck, I gave myself a good laugh. But I still don't think I shocked my bladder into behaving.
Guess I'll just keep going. ;)
Friday, August 21, 2009
Alanis Was Right: You Live, You Learn
So in case any of you were wondering if I was eaten by a shark at our training tri last weekend, I wasn't. However, I remained paranoid throughout the 1.2 mile swim and determined the water was a bit too fishy, literally.
The ocean wasn't the only fishy water. For some unknown reason, I took tap water along for my training tri bike ride. Bad move, very bad move. The tap water was disgusting and as a result, yours truly didn't drink a-n-y water on her bike ride. Nor did she drink water on her run (yes, the Fuel Belt contained tap water, too).
The fishy water, combined with only one Gu on the bike, caused my body to revolt. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday saw me craving calories, fighting body aches, feeling beyond rundown. I've been stuffing my face with Vitamin C since.
Lesson learned.
I have got to get my nutrition down pat. Tim packed boiled potatoes in his back pocket while training for IM Coeur d'Alene last year. I'm going to try my all-time favorite: peanut butter sandwiches. That's right - I will pack a PB sandwich in my back pocket(s)! I'm getting excited just thinking about it.
One more item on the agenda before I call it a night... I went swimming at the UCI pool on Wednesday night. No threat of sharks. No fishy water. Or so I thought. As I was nearing the end of my 2,700 yard workout, lo and behold, I started smelling hot dogs in the water. That's right - the newcomer in the lane next to me smelled like hot dogs. I kid you not. And let me just tell you, I will take fishy water any day over hot dog water. Isn't it ironic (Alanis)?
The ocean wasn't the only fishy water. For some unknown reason, I took tap water along for my training tri bike ride. Bad move, very bad move. The tap water was disgusting and as a result, yours truly didn't drink a-n-y water on her bike ride. Nor did she drink water on her run (yes, the Fuel Belt contained tap water, too).
The fishy water, combined with only one Gu on the bike, caused my body to revolt. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday saw me craving calories, fighting body aches, feeling beyond rundown. I've been stuffing my face with Vitamin C since.
Lesson learned.
I have got to get my nutrition down pat. Tim packed boiled potatoes in his back pocket while training for IM Coeur d'Alene last year. I'm going to try my all-time favorite: peanut butter sandwiches. That's right - I will pack a PB sandwich in my back pocket(s)! I'm getting excited just thinking about it.
One more item on the agenda before I call it a night... I went swimming at the UCI pool on Wednesday night. No threat of sharks. No fishy water. Or so I thought. As I was nearing the end of my 2,700 yard workout, lo and behold, I started smelling hot dogs in the water. That's right - the newcomer in the lane next to me smelled like hot dogs. I kid you not. And let me just tell you, I will take fishy water any day over hot dog water. Isn't it ironic (Alanis)?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Recovery: The Act of Returning to Normal
This week has been a recovery week. (Can I get an "amen" from the audience?) Tim and I have drastically reduced the intensity of our workouts since Monday and even (gasp) slept in. Our long run felt short on Tuesday night - only 75 minutes. And we actually took Wednesday completely off.
Speaking of Wednesday, it was Tim's birthday. I offered to make a special birthday dinner for him, and surprisingly, he accepted. Now, for those of you who know me, you know I cannot cook. But I have to say, I actually prepared a decent meal last night. And we're both still here to talk about it, so that's good. I swear, as soon as I give up livin' the IronLife, I'll take a few cooking lessons...maybe.
But back to our recovery week. We just finished our third training block (meaning three weeks of build, one week of recovery) and are enjoying our third week of recovery since June. I'm learning to take full advantage of these recovery weeks. I'm slowing down the pace a bit, taking advantage of flatter bike rides and catching up on my Oprah magazines. I love Oprah, even if she doesn't do tris.
We'll go for a bike ride tomorrow and prep for a training tri on Saturday. This training tri includes a mile swim in the Pacific Ocean. I'm really wishing I hadn't watched "Shark Bite Summer" on the Discovery Channel last week...
Our recovery week will end on Sunday. Then it's back to building, Body Glide and business!
Speaking of Wednesday, it was Tim's birthday. I offered to make a special birthday dinner for him, and surprisingly, he accepted. Now, for those of you who know me, you know I cannot cook. But I have to say, I actually prepared a decent meal last night. And we're both still here to talk about it, so that's good. I swear, as soon as I give up livin' the IronLife, I'll take a few cooking lessons...maybe.
But back to our recovery week. We just finished our third training block (meaning three weeks of build, one week of recovery) and are enjoying our third week of recovery since June. I'm learning to take full advantage of these recovery weeks. I'm slowing down the pace a bit, taking advantage of flatter bike rides and catching up on my Oprah magazines. I love Oprah, even if she doesn't do tris.
We'll go for a bike ride tomorrow and prep for a training tri on Saturday. This training tri includes a mile swim in the Pacific Ocean. I'm really wishing I hadn't watched "Shark Bite Summer" on the Discovery Channel last week...
Our recovery week will end on Sunday. Then it's back to building, Body Glide and business!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Miles of Motivation
I'm dedicating tonight's post to Motivation. I had a lot of time to think about motivation today, what with my five hour bike ride and 50 minute run. I also had a lot of time to think about what "normal" Saturday mornings are like, but Tim told me to concentrate on that "later" (as in December).
So back to motivation. As we ramp up the mileage in preparation for Ironman Arizona, I find that I need to simultaneously ramp up the motivation. The workouts are becoming more intense and more exhausting, and my tri shorts are becoming less and less padded. This adventure is downright hard - but that's also why it's so dang powerful. I find myself seeking motivation in the little things...
For instance, motivation got me out of bed at 5 o'clock this morning to eat breakfast. (Okay, truth be told, Tim got me out of bed and threatened me with the likelihood of digestive issues if I didn't eat early enough, but for blog purposes, I'm going with motivation.)
Motivation prompted me to ride Santiago Canyon as fast as I could. (Actually, it was my afore-mentioned extremely small bladder that caused me to book it to the bathroom at the other end of Santiago Canyon, but, you know...)
And it was motivation that pushed me along the 50 minute run today - that and a little David Archuleta iTunes action (yes, it's true - I listen to his music, shamelessly).
But for the most part, I find myself motivated by food. Period. Point blank. Bring it. Strap on the feed bag. Home-girl's hungry.
I'm motivated, all right. Pass the Gu, please.
So back to motivation. As we ramp up the mileage in preparation for Ironman Arizona, I find that I need to simultaneously ramp up the motivation. The workouts are becoming more intense and more exhausting, and my tri shorts are becoming less and less padded. This adventure is downright hard - but that's also why it's so dang powerful. I find myself seeking motivation in the little things...
For instance, motivation got me out of bed at 5 o'clock this morning to eat breakfast. (Okay, truth be told, Tim got me out of bed and threatened me with the likelihood of digestive issues if I didn't eat early enough, but for blog purposes, I'm going with motivation.)
Motivation prompted me to ride Santiago Canyon as fast as I could. (Actually, it was my afore-mentioned extremely small bladder that caused me to book it to the bathroom at the other end of Santiago Canyon, but, you know...)
And it was motivation that pushed me along the 50 minute run today - that and a little David Archuleta iTunes action (yes, it's true - I listen to his music, shamelessly).
But for the most part, I find myself motivated by food. Period. Point blank. Bring it. Strap on the feed bag. Home-girl's hungry.
I'm motivated, all right. Pass the Gu, please.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Ironman Training on the Fly
I've been AWOL for a few days. There's a reason for that. Tim and I were in Columbus (as in Ohio) this past weekend, at Kitsy and Damon's wedding extravaganza. [Insert shout out for Kitsy and Damon here!]
Because we're psycho, Team Middleton woke up at 5am on Friday, wolfed down a quick breakfast, threw on some spandex and sunscreen, and went wheels up at 5:45am. Tim mapped out a course that consisted of 90% right-hand turns (because who wants to wait at red lights when you have a plane to catch?) and multiple, brutal hills. The good news is, that because I was sweating so much riding up hills, I only had to dismount once to use the bathroom. The bad news is that I had to ride a ton of hills. But I survived.
Four hours later, we both arrived back home, propped up the bikes in our garage, stumbled into our running shoes, grabbed our Fuel Belts, and hit the Back Bay for a quick run.
Less than an hour later, we were back home, tossing off our Fuel Belts, getting showers, zipping up our suitcases, downing Endurox, stretching while applying deoderant...you get the idea.
By noon, we were off to the airport to check in and, more importantly, inhale chicken sandwiches and french fries. We flew to Dallas, ate more chicken sandwiches, and boarded another flight to the C-bus. Once in the C-bus, we picked up our rental car and headed for the Best Western (it's all about the AAA discount). It was midnight on the east coast, and Tim and I were hungry - again. We pulled into the local Speedway, 500 meters from our hotel, and loaded up on chips, chocolate and M&Ms. This would be the Speedway with the 3 inch thick glass between the general public and the cashiers...
After that lovely midnight snack, Saturday morning saw us wake up to the Best Western "continental" breakfast (where we ate waffles and more carbohydrates). Then it was wedding time! Then it was brunch time (yes, we ate a LOT at brunch). Then it was run time. Then it was iced coffee time. Then it was Panera Bread time. Then it was reception time: chipwiches, beer, wine, more chipwiches. Then it was after-party time: more beer, maybe a margarita, chips and salsa, chicken fingers. Then it was: "What were we thinking? I don't know, but it's way past our bedtime" time.
Can you guess what we did Sunday? Yep, we ate. A lot. More airport food. More chips. More "what was I thinking?!" food.
So now it's Monday and we're back on the Ironman training schedule. A little gym action this morning, a 2,500 yard swim this evening, prepping for a bike ride in the morning. And...we're officially detoxing from our weekend on the fly. No more Speedway, no more airport food. Back to the hills.
Because we're psycho, Team Middleton woke up at 5am on Friday, wolfed down a quick breakfast, threw on some spandex and sunscreen, and went wheels up at 5:45am. Tim mapped out a course that consisted of 90% right-hand turns (because who wants to wait at red lights when you have a plane to catch?) and multiple, brutal hills. The good news is, that because I was sweating so much riding up hills, I only had to dismount once to use the bathroom. The bad news is that I had to ride a ton of hills. But I survived.
Four hours later, we both arrived back home, propped up the bikes in our garage, stumbled into our running shoes, grabbed our Fuel Belts, and hit the Back Bay for a quick run.
Less than an hour later, we were back home, tossing off our Fuel Belts, getting showers, zipping up our suitcases, downing Endurox, stretching while applying deoderant...you get the idea.
By noon, we were off to the airport to check in and, more importantly, inhale chicken sandwiches and french fries. We flew to Dallas, ate more chicken sandwiches, and boarded another flight to the C-bus. Once in the C-bus, we picked up our rental car and headed for the Best Western (it's all about the AAA discount). It was midnight on the east coast, and Tim and I were hungry - again. We pulled into the local Speedway, 500 meters from our hotel, and loaded up on chips, chocolate and M&Ms. This would be the Speedway with the 3 inch thick glass between the general public and the cashiers...
After that lovely midnight snack, Saturday morning saw us wake up to the Best Western "continental" breakfast (where we ate waffles and more carbohydrates). Then it was wedding time! Then it was brunch time (yes, we ate a LOT at brunch). Then it was run time. Then it was iced coffee time. Then it was Panera Bread time. Then it was reception time: chipwiches, beer, wine, more chipwiches. Then it was after-party time: more beer, maybe a margarita, chips and salsa, chicken fingers. Then it was: "What were we thinking? I don't know, but it's way past our bedtime" time.
Can you guess what we did Sunday? Yep, we ate. A lot. More airport food. More chips. More "what was I thinking?!" food.
So now it's Monday and we're back on the Ironman training schedule. A little gym action this morning, a 2,500 yard swim this evening, prepping for a bike ride in the morning. And...we're officially detoxing from our weekend on the fly. No more Speedway, no more airport food. Back to the hills.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Bikes & Beemers Don't Mix
There are many things I like about biking. I like my bike. I like going fast on my bike. I like wearing cute bike outfits while going fast on my bike. I do not, however, like biking with Beemers.
Yes, it's most often the Beemers, driven by Orange County sixteen-somethings, that terrorize cyclists on the roads. I've decided that Beemers either a). don't like people wearing helmets and spandex or b). have serious anger issues and need to unleash their aggression while in Drive. Whatever the case may be, Tim and I have perfected the Beemer response. Tim yells expletives while I make an unintelligble screech and wave both my arms at the Beemer operator. I'm pretty sure we grab the attention of every driver except the Beemer operator (because he's already six miles down the road...see what I mean about the aggression?).
Enough about the Beemers though. Tim thought I should tell you that a pick-up truck honked at me while we were on a 70 mile ride last weekend. It must have been the cute bike outfit...
(Thank goodness Ford sponsors Ironman Arizona.)
Yes, it's most often the Beemers, driven by Orange County sixteen-somethings, that terrorize cyclists on the roads. I've decided that Beemers either a). don't like people wearing helmets and spandex or b). have serious anger issues and need to unleash their aggression while in Drive. Whatever the case may be, Tim and I have perfected the Beemer response. Tim yells expletives while I make an unintelligble screech and wave both my arms at the Beemer operator. I'm pretty sure we grab the attention of every driver except the Beemer operator (because he's already six miles down the road...see what I mean about the aggression?).
Enough about the Beemers though. Tim thought I should tell you that a pick-up truck honked at me while we were on a 70 mile ride last weekend. It must have been the cute bike outfit...
(Thank goodness Ford sponsors Ironman Arizona.)
Monday, July 27, 2009
And We're Off...
Now that I'm out of school for the summer, and now that the Tour de France has ended, I'm finding myself with 20 extra minutes in the day. So I've decided to start "Team Middleton," a blog that will document our Ironman-in-training life.
Tim and I are swimming, biking, running and eating our way toward Ironman Arizona on Sunday, November 22nd. With less than four months till D-Day, we're feeling pretty good...and awfully hungry.
"If this were easy, everyone would do it," said pro triathlete Chris McCormack at Kona in 2008. Forget easy, Chris - my mom thinks what we're doing is barbaric. But that's part of the Ironman allure. How hard can you push yourself? How many miles can you bike in four hours and 30 minutes? How fast can you swim 2,500 yards? And, in my case, how many times must you dismount to use the restroom on a Saturday morning ride?
You and I (and Tim) will find out. Because, even though Tim would like nothing more than to fly below the radar, Ironman documentation is a must. We're crazy, we're addicted, we're having the time of our lives, we're buying more Butt Butter and Body Glide and bagels than ever before...and we're looking forward to upping the mileage.
It's way past my bedtime now and we've got an early morning ride. Thanks for reading - talk to you soon.
Tim and I are swimming, biking, running and eating our way toward Ironman Arizona on Sunday, November 22nd. With less than four months till D-Day, we're feeling pretty good...and awfully hungry.
"If this were easy, everyone would do it," said pro triathlete Chris McCormack at Kona in 2008. Forget easy, Chris - my mom thinks what we're doing is barbaric. But that's part of the Ironman allure. How hard can you push yourself? How many miles can you bike in four hours and 30 minutes? How fast can you swim 2,500 yards? And, in my case, how many times must you dismount to use the restroom on a Saturday morning ride?
You and I (and Tim) will find out. Because, even though Tim would like nothing more than to fly below the radar, Ironman documentation is a must. We're crazy, we're addicted, we're having the time of our lives, we're buying more Butt Butter and Body Glide and bagels than ever before...and we're looking forward to upping the mileage.
It's way past my bedtime now and we've got an early morning ride. Thanks for reading - talk to you soon.
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