This time, in two weeks. . .

This time, in two weeks, I hope to be nearing the finish line. THE FINISH LINE.

I can’t believe the Ironman is less than two weeks away. HOLY COW.

One after another my friends and family members ask if I’m ready. I DON”T KNOW! My answer is yes. Yes, I am ready. I have no choice but to be ready.

Sure, if I had more time I could be more ready. If I had more time, I would spend it swimming around in the chilled open water (with and without a wetsuit). If I had more time, I would make better nutrition decisions and be 20 pounds lighter. If I had more time, I would run faster and longer. If I had more time, I would sleep more. If I had more time, I would continue to find something else I could do to be more ready.

But, I don't have more time. I have to be ok with what I have done to this point and what I can do to finish out the training. I can't think about a few of the crappy workouts or the poor food choices. I can't think about how the lake was closed AGAIN and I have yet to swim in Tempe Town Lake wearing a wetsuit.

What can I do in the next two weeks to make sure I am as ready as possible? I’ll finish out my training plan of course. I am going to make more nutritious food choices (it’s written here, I must do it!). I am going to print out my check lists and get all of my gear in order. I will let people help me (this might be the hardest one of all!).

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.

Adventures in Swimming: Part II

As time has gone by and I’ve spent more time in the pool . . . I’m not as terrible a swimmer as I used to be. This is good news. While I don’t gasp for breath after a mere 25 m anymore, I still shake my head at some of the weird, weird people who I encounter.

The two middle aged men are still around. They still stare. There are more people in the pool these days, so I don’t feel as creeped out as I used to by them.

There’s a young fellow, maybe 30, maybe 35, maybe 20, I really have no idea. I’m quite sure he is a compulsive exerciser (or a triathlete). ((I say compulsive exerciser only because I hardly ever see men do this much cardio in the gym. Sure I see them spend hours and hours lifting weights, but not hit all of the different cardio machines in one day!)) No matter what time I get to the gym in the mornings, this kid is working out. He is on some sort of cardio equipment (usually the treadmill). I honestly didn’t know the treadmill could go as fast as this kid runs on it. He’s ‘that’ guy who makes all sorts of racket with his heavy breathing and elephant-heavy stomping. But he’s fast. Eventually he heads to the pool. His swimming style is not too different than the treadmill. He slaps and pounds at the water. Not graceful at all, but he’s fast. Sometimes I race him, just for funzies. I can usually just beat him, or keep up with him for the 25 meter length of the pool. He then flips around and keeps going, I gasp for air. I’m not sure how many laps he does. I’m sure it is at least twice what I do and he beats me out of the pool too.

There are three swim lanes at my LA Fitness. The two lanes on the end are pretty wide could easily be divided into two additional lanes. I don’t mind sharing a lane, especially one of the large ones. I do, however, get annoyed when I’m in the middle, narrow lane and end up sharing a lane because the dipshits in the wide lanes are too bullheaded to volunteer and share their lanes. I feel bad if I swim 50 or 100 meters and the other folks don’t ask the poor person lurking about if s/he’d like to share a lane. There is a certain etiquette when it comes to sharing pool lanes and ideally, you would share with someone who swims at about the same rate as you do. I am not fast, so slow swimmers are my ideal lane sharers.

There is one lady I absolutely will not share a lane with (not that anyone else wants to either or can for that matter). I will call her “lady who should learn how to swim.” I totally understand the people who need to do workouts in the pool. . . the water is easier on their joints. .. rehab . . . blah blah blah. There’s a whole other group of people (lady who should learn how to swim) who just make up their own little swim stroke and call it a workout. Boy is this an annoying workout! If she can’t get into a lane right away (she won’t share with people) she grunts and talks loudly to the folks in the hot tub about how annoyed she is about having to wait for a lane. Once she does get her own lane (she prefers the double-wide lanes) she doggy paddles a few times down and back as a warm up. A part of the stroke she uses for her ‘workout’ I’m sure does actually exist. . . for the two year old swim class where the kiddos are just learning how to float on their backs. She uses the frog kick of the breaststroke. Her arms then start in with some sort of chopping motion while her mid-section gyrates up and down. When I first saw it, I thought she was drowning. Not so lucky. She does this regularly. I thought it must be a good workout, otherwise, why would she do it? So, I tried it (in my own little pool, no one around. . .). It was awkward and not at all a good workout. Why wouldn’t one just learn how to swim properly? And above all, don’t bitch and moan because your ridiculous acrobatic trick in the pool does not allow you to share a lane with other people. You can wait your turn for such ridiculousness.

Recently, there has been this other guy at the pool. If I had to guess, I’d say grad student in the school of engineering. He saw that I had my workout written down and asked what I was doing. I told him I was training for a triathlon. He then proceeds to tell me that he has never swum before. Ever. This was his first time in the pool. He runs but he’s looking to do triathlons too. Good for him. He then proceeds to tell me what is wrong with my swim stroke. My hand enters without slapping the water (hmm) and I’m not kicking. A of all. . . did you not just tell me you have never swum before? B of all, I’m doing a drill where I don’t kick. I thanked him for the feedback. Explained I’m doing a drill where I’m not supposed to kick to help build arm strength, etc. He goes on to critique my form, as he takes his swim cap out of its original packaging.

There is an older woman the following week who I am sharing a lane with. She came in talking to her friend about how much fun she had with a triathlon she finished in New Mexico over the weekend. She also had feedback for my swim stroke. She started by asking if I am a total immersion swimmer. I said I don’t have any of the books or videos about it, no. She said the same thing about the way my hand enters as the other guy and that it follows the total immersion style of swimming perfectly. Hmm. Interesting. She then pointed to the water slapper next to us and compared the styles. Thank you lady for the productive feedback on my ‘more efficient’ swim stroke.  She also gave me some additional technique pointers.

Every day is a new lesson in the pool. I sure hope I’m doing enough. I hope I’m fast enough. My swim continues to be the source of the most race anxiety. I’ve been working on some open water swims with the wetsuit. So far they’ve been ok. I still get freaked out by the random gross things in the lake. I really wish I could give it a whirl in Tempe Town Lake where the race will be. I am racing the Nathan Tri at the end of the month. I doubt the water temperature will be low enough for wetsuits. How on earth will I survive the open water swim without a wetsuit?! AHHH! I’m trying not to think of that too much. AHHH!

Adventures in Swimming: Part I

I may have mentioned a time or two that I am not what you can consider a strong swimmer. I’m not so comfortable in the pool for many reasons: swimming is hard; I don’t like wearing a swim suit; people are idiots.

Swimming is getting a little easier for me. Yay. I finally do not feel like I’m flailing about all the time in the pool. Every once in a while I find myself in a rhythm and I feel like I can go forever. . .or at least 2.4 miles. . .in a 3.5’ deep pool with a line on the bottom and no people near me.

I tend to work out first thing in the morning. I usually don’t have an excuse to miss an early workout. By the time I’m finished with work, I do not want to head to the gym. There is a different type of person who works out after work than before. It may just be the particular gym I go to, but it seems to me the folks who go to the gym after work are the ones looking for a date more than a good workout (sweeping generalization, I know.). There are people socializing and talking to each other while they work out. The folks who are around at 5, 5:30 in the morning are there to get down to business. They don’t really make eye contact with anyone; you don’t see women backcombing their hair and touching up their lipstick before hopping on the treadmill at 5:30 am.

I like to hit the pool by 5:30. Any time before 6 is great as I am usually the first one in the pool. By 6:15 people start to shuffle in to swim or to hop in the hot tub. There are these two older middle-aged men who get in the hot tub for at least 30 if not 45 minutes. It was weird to me. My very first swim workout, one guy left the hot tub and headed to the locker room. His friend hopped into the lane next to me. He waited for me to stop (which, to be honest was not long, again, not a strong swimmer). He then decided he needed to talk to me. Seriously? I’m in the pool. Do not talk to me. I am gasping for breath. “You just started working out here?” (Gag.) “Uhm, no. I’ve just started swimming here though.” “Oh, I like to swim. (Gag.) What’s your name?” (Gag.) “Jeanne.” “My name’s yadda yadda. Nice to meet you.” (Gag.) I clearly need to swim. “Well, I’m going to continue my workout now.” I continued with my workout. This guy barely doggy paddles half way down, turns around and goes back. “Well, I’ll see you next time. If you have any questions about the gym, just ask me.” Seriously? I felt like this guy and his friend watched me from then on. They still creep me out.

That same day another guy gets in the pool. I’m still gasping for breath at the end of each 25 m swim. “You sure are a good swimmer, can you coach me?” (Gag) “I am not a good swimmer. I took lessons from Tempe Parks and Rec. You should check them out.” He continues to tell me how he has to swim because he’s a runner and he has an injury and blah blah blah. Who are these people!? It’s not like the lap pool is the place to strike up a conversation. This isn’t some pool party where we all have cocktails and we’re lounging around the pool. I am trying to workout! The pool is not like the treadmill or the bikes at the gym where you can easily have a conversation and still do something. In the pool, you’re either swimming or you’re not. I try to be friendly. I don’t want to be perceived as the bitchy girl at the pool. But geeze! I go to the gym at the crack of dawn and I really don’t want to talk to anyone (Unless I’m asking, “would you like to share my lane.” More on that later.).

I am now a better swimmer. Thank goodness! I no longer have to stop every 25 m (unless I’m doing sprints) to catch my breath. Those of us who are regular swimmers in the pool don’t need to talk to each other and we rarely do. It is fabulous.

Just Keep Swimming. . . Just Keep Swimming. . . Just Keep Swimming

When I was four(ish), my family vacationed to Sesame Place-an amusement park of sorts based on Sesame Street. What more could a four year old want?! My recollection goes something like this: there is a giant room full of kids playing in a sea of plastic balls. There are cargo nets and slides above (so you would fall off of the nets into the soft set of plastic balls below, etc.). I remember my Mom carrying me out of this particular attraction kicking, screaming and crying (me, not my Mom). She remembers it slightly differently. I guess I was too petrified to go down one of the tunnel slides and some random lady had to grab and pull me down the slide. I clearly knew I was headed to my death in the sea of plastic balls and kicked her and screamed the whole way down the slide.

This is how I feel every single time I get in the pool to swim laps. I feel out of control--kicking and screaming (not out loud, for now. . .). I am terrified and I implode with anxiety. I hate swimming. It is not something I enjoy because I SUCK at it.

I’ve taken lessons and had friends watch my stroke. “Looks great,” they’ll say. It doesn’t feel great. Swimming is nothing that is natural for me. I can’t breathe, my heart pounds, my muscles burn, I can’t find a comfortable rhythm, and I can’t relax. This is not the ‘what a great workout’ kind of feeling. No, this is the, “I am clearly going to die” kind of angst. I want to cry it is so hard for me. Workout after workout after workout I feel like I make zero progress.

I don’t mean to brag, but I am pretty awesome at most things I do. There are very few activities I participate in on a regular basis that I am not ‘good’ at and enjoy doing. Otherwise, why else would I do it? It is really quite unfortunate for me that swimming is one of the activities in the triathlon.

So what can I do? Hide some flotation devices and an airtank in my wetsuit for the race? I suppose I have to just keep swimming. (Thank you Dory for the awesome mantra.) As much as I do not enjoy doing things I’m not good at, I am trryyyiinng to see this as an opportunity for growth (both physically and mentally). Hopefully one day (soon) I can feel more at ease in the pool. I am sure not going to let it get me down.