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.
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