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...
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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. ;)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
