Random thoughts after happy hour. . .

Time and time again people (I know. . .) ask why I am doing what I’m doing. (Really? Read entry number two.) Sometimes I also wonder why. When the alarm clock rings at 4 am. When I really want to watch the new episode of How I Met Your Mother (but I’m at the gym instead.). When I’m not kicking balls/going to girls’ night/calling you back because I have to train or sleep.

I’ve learned there are other sacrifices too. There are the “friends” who don’t get “it.” (I’m sorry I can’t go to you party that starts at 9 pm. I’m a weenie and need to wake up to train at 4 am. And I need a full 8 hours of sleep in order to do this.) There are the guys who are intimidated by “it.” (Sorry, I’m pretty hard core, if you can’t accept that, you’re not worth it. I don’t NEED you to be hard core. Just accept that I AM hard core and support it.)

Yes, when my pool closes for a “who knows how long” amount of time (less than a month before the IM), I’m going to stress out. Yes, when my knee hurts, I’m going to stress out. Yes, when it is still 95 degrees at the end of October, I am going to stress out. Let me stress out. Listen to me stress out.

Accept that I am crabby. Do you know what I am about to put my body and my mind through? No? Then shut the fuck up. Listen. I have an idea of what I’m going to go through, but in all reality, I have no idea. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m terrified in fact. Unless you’ve been there, done that, shut up. Even if you have been there/done that, I don’t want to hear your bullshit. Give me information I can use.

Not one of you will know how I feel, what I’ve overcome to be here today. What I’ve gone through to get to the finish line in three weeks. That’s ok. I don’t expect you to. I ask that you empathize with what I go through. The sacrifices I’ve made. I’m sorry I can’t keep in touch as much or talk on the phone as long. I have to sleep. I have to train. If you can’t understand that, I’m sorry.

My eyes swell up with tears each and every time I visualize the finish line experience (and I’m a cold heartless bitch, this is a huge deal!). It starts as I make the final turn into the home stretch. I pause. I draw a deep breath. My eyes swell. I move toward the finish line. I find my family and friends (ideally, they’ll be on the same side . . . toward the bottom of the grandstands .hint. hint. hint.) I high five folks as I pass by. I cross the finish line (with a pose that is yet to be determined, but super awesome and by far my best finish line photo yet/ever.).

This is definitely one of the most important moments of my life. It’s interesting to visualize that moment and to think about who will be there. (Also, who won’t be there.)Who actually can’t be there vs. which folks just don’t ‘get it.’

Adventures in Swimming: Part III

I will start by saying that I would never be able to swim in the open water without wearing a wetsuit. I’m not a huge fan of the ‘open water.’ Family vacations back in the day included trips to the lake where we’d boat, jet ski, tube, water ski, etc. Once, we jumped into the lake from the boat. It was horrible. My heart immediately started pounding and I couldn’t catch my breath. I don’t like going into the ocean past my knee (Hawaiian coast not included). I’m not a fan of swimming around with plants and creatures and crawlies and grossness (I realize some of these exist in the pool too, but I usually can’t see it. Grossest thing I see in the pool-hair. Shiver. I hate wet hair. Gross.).

Tempe Town Lake (where Ironman AZ swims) is not open to ‘open swimming.’ You can only swim in the lake if it is a part of a race. This is quite unfortunate. I have spent some time getting used to the open water in one of the other local lakes. It is gross and disgusting. The first time I swam there, I maybe used one freestyle stroke before I freaked out and switched to breast stroke. It was rough. I was scared. I couldn’t see anything; I didn’t know what was around me. Thank goodness my lifeguard Kristin was around (and Becky and Karen at other times)!

I now have a wetsuit (last time I buy a used wetsuit on eBay. . .) which helps tremendously. It seriously has changed my life in the swim. I float with the wetsuit on. The anxiety of sinking to the bottom of the lake goes away. It’s too bad that there is so much debris and weeds and other creepies in the lake that freak me out. I’m able to swim pretty well while wearing the wetsuit. I just focus on my breathing and my form. Visibility in this lake is roughly twelve inches. I can’t see my hand the water is so murky. Swim swim swim in the little swimming hole swim swim swim. Until I notice I’m in a giant pile of weeds! Panic panic panic in the little swimming hole panic panic panic.

I raced in my first open water triathlon a couple of weeks ago in Tempe Town Lake. I was ready for the grossness. I have been running there for quite a few years. It smells, there is a film on the water sometimes. It’s gross. (One of the dams popped last year so the water is now relatively ‘fresh’ which is awesome. And I’ve now seen the bottom.) It was the end (according to the calendar) of a record-breaking-heat summer so the water was a comfortable 81 degrees. This meant the water was not cold enough for me to wear my wetsuit. I was nervous! My first open water swim race, without the comfort of my wetsuit! AHH.

My group bobbed in the water waiting for our turn to go. There was a smidge of chaos for the first minute or so. I was prepared for this (I’ve been trying to mentally prepare for the group start of the IM. AHH). I started to swim. One, two, three breathe. One, two, three breathe. This wasn’t so bad; until I found myself in the shadow of the Mill Avenue bridge. I could not see a thing in the shadow. I started to panic. Where are the people in the handy dandy kayaks for my panic attack? No where near me (or the start), that’s where! But, I was ready, I expected to panic. I started my panic plan: breaststroke until I catch my breath then freestyle again. I never caught my breath. The attack got worse. There were no kayaks that were close! I felt each one I moved toward started to move away from me. I made the first turn around the buoy. I thought I’d free style after I turned the second buoy. Nope.

I make it back at the dreaded Mill Avenue bridge. I decide I will freestyle the rest of the race (roughly 300 meters or so). I suck it up and I try. I panic worse than I thought I physically could. My heart was about to pound out of my chest. I had to flip over to my back to try and catch my breath. So I treaded water and flailed my arms to move in a forward motion until I reached the end.

I reached the end (1500 meters), completely exhausted. I could barely pull my leg high enough to step out of the lake. It was ridiculous. But I did it.

I learned a few important lessons about open water swimming:
-Tempe Town Lake’s water is not near as gross as the other lake. There was a slight smell at one point, but had I been swimming normally, I’m sure I would not have noticed.
-Getting kicked around and dodging other swimmers is a nice distraction from the murkiness of the lake.
-Don’t rely on the people in the kayaks to help or be close at all when you need them.
-Praise and thank God for wetsuits.

Bike Fun

I don’t actually remember when I learned to ride a bike. I’m sure I was around four or so, whatever the ‘normal’ age is. I totally remember my first bike though. It was pink and purple and it had a matching bag that velcroed to the handlebars. I put some of those plastic dealies (the proper term, I’m sure) on the spokes so they’d click as I pedaled away. Unless I pedaled too fast and then the centrifugal force held the dealies to the rim (I think centrifugal force, it has been roughly 10 years since I’ve thought of physics, much less the correct vocabulary). I loved that bike!

One year, my sister and I both received shinny new 10-speed mountain bikes from Santa. It was awesome! The weather that day was perfect and we were able to give them a spin around the block on Christmas Day. I couldn’t believe how fast I could go on that bike. My friend Bryan and I would ride our bikes everywhere. What freedom we had. We had this really fun game (looking back now . . . really fun=ridiculously stupid) where we’d ride down the block as fast as we could. Once we got to my house we’d zip up the driveway into the yard between my house and the next door neighbor’s. We’d throw ourselves off of our bikes to see how far they’d go without us on them. I’d often find myself rolling into the brick house. It’s not like we wore helmets for this little activity. It’s a miracle we never broke anything! I do believe these dismount exercises will serve a good purpose if I ever need to ‘tuck and roll’ during a bike workout.

I remember how ‘cool’ I felt to ride my bike to school. I had this pretty awesome lock with the different number dials to turn that secured it on the bike racks. Eventually, riding a bike wasn’t as fun anymore. The bike was replaced with a car. Even when I went to college, I chose roller blades over a bike as my mode of transportation around campus. Once I lived off campus though, I purchased another bike. This served me well through my last few years of college. I would probably still ride it if someone hadn’t jumped my fence and stolen it out of my back “yard.”

Then I purchased my cheapo $75 bike from Target. I definitely got what I paid for! Others would ride it and wonder how I could get by. Each pedal stroke was a challenge. After over a year of commuting to work on that bike, it pooped out. I am lucky to have a friend sell me his really nice road bike. I have shaved my commute time from 17 minutes to 7 (if I hit the lights right). It’s crazy! It’s also scary that I can go so fast on that bike. I now wear my helmet every day. Helmet hair at work is definitely worth it!

I am also lucky enough to have a generous colleague who is loaning me her tri bike for the Ironman. In the nine or so months I’ve been riding it, I’ve become a much better tire changer and pedal clip in and outer. The aero bars also took some getting used to, but each ride I feel more comfortable and more in control. It happens to be pink, which is fantastic!

I’ve had a few adventures on the bike (details to come). I like to cycle the actual IM course, which is covered with debris and traffic flies by at high speeds. Dogs have chased me. I’ve had flat tires, tingly toes and numb girly bits. I’ve completed the bulk of my cycle miles in temperatures of 90 and up. So far, I haven’t had to use my tuck and roll moves. I hope I don’t have to!