Pedal Party

On Saturday, I did my first 200k ride.  126 miles.  And that was the short route.  The other routes were 400k and 600k.  I met some friends for breakfast at Denny's at 5:45 a.m., and we were on our bikes by 7 a.m.  The weather was perfect - in the 60s as we rode out, and warming into the 70s.  We rode out of Brookshire, up to Belleville.  From there we headed out to Burton.  There was a rather nasty crosswind that made holding a straight line difficult.  We arrived in Burton around 11 a.m., which was almost the halfway point. 

From Burton, we rode to Brenham, and then to Blinn, and then back to Belleville and back home.  By the last 25 miles, I was ready to get OFF the bike.  I wasn't bonking, I was just tired.  I was proud of myself, though.  By setting my watch to go off every 30 minutes to remind me to take a salt tab, I was able to stay on top of the electrolytes.

Two of the older guys in the group were in their mid-60s.  By the end of the ride when the rest of us younger ones were slowing down, they were still out in front, pulling strong.  That's one thing I love about cycling - you see people of all ages and stages of life doing it. 

Sunday was the Pedal Party.  I didn't quite know what to expect. I was told we were going to ride a 16-seater bike on the streets of Houston.  BYOB.  I brought root beer.  ;)  The owner told us the bike was built by two Dutch guys in Holland.  It literally sat 14, with room in the center for the bar tender.  We pedaled down Washington, averaging 4 mph.  At one point, with everyone cranking as hard as possible and a slight downhill, I think we hit 8 mph for a few seconds.  After my epic century plus the day before, I was quite happy to find one of the seats over the wheels that had no pedals and enjoy the ride.  All up and down the street people were staring at us and taking pictures.  One fellow quite driving and let his car coast while he held his camera up through the sunroof to take a picture!  The funniest comment came from a police car - as he passed us he used his megaphone to say, "Pedal faster!"  Definitely a memory I won't soon forget.

Perspective

Yesterday, I complained.  I complained inside, I complained to God, and I complained to my best friend on the phone.  I was complaining about the fact that my hip still hurts when I run, about work, about being tired, and about being irritated with a myriad of minor inconveniences.

And then last night, I ended up sitting across from a woman who spoke little to no English.  She was attending English classes to help her learn the language.  In her broken English, with some help from the students around her, she told me she works 6-7 days a week, cutting hair.  She lives alone.  Her husband abandoned her two years ago, and she finally started coming to the English classes just to do something new and try to get away from her sadness.  Looking at her, she probably has no health insurance or savings. 

I went home thankful for my job, my health, and my friends and family.  And that I speak the language of the country in which I live.  Sometimes it's just a matter of perspective

Multi-Tasking at Its Finest

I just have to share the funniest story one of my ironman friends told me.  She recently did a local ride, called the Tour de Donut (you can subtract time from your ride time for each donut you consume).  Before the ride start, she happened to meet a small family who was apparently doing the ride for the first time.  The wife kept asking my friend if she--the wife--rode her bike for 3 hours a day, if she could eat whatever she wanted and be thin.  My friend responded that no, probably not - you still have to eat healthy to be healthy (or something to that effect).  The ride started, and my friend took off to do her 50-something mile ride.  As she neared the last rest stop, she saw the family again.  As she passed by, she turned to say a few encouraging words to the wife.  The wife was calmly riding her bike... and smoking a cigarette at the same time. 

Ironstar 2010 Race Report

I drove to Conroe on Saturday afternoon with girlfriend Susan, and my mom, in tow. We checked into the race site hotel, found the mini race expo, and then headed off for a carb dinner.  I think I was more excited about Sunday's race than I have been about anything else for a long time.  I loved seeing all the athletes come in with their decked out bikes and support-crew/ family.  I like the buzz of excitement, seeing the TA all set up for the next morning, and thinking about the fact that I'm going to be out on that race course tomorrow morning.


While getting ready for bed and putting together my race stuff for the following morning, I realized I had no spoon with which to eat my oatmeal.  Without blinking an eye, Susan picked up the phone, called the front desk, and asked if we could "please have a plastic spoon delivered to our room, right away."  Within minutes a girl from the front desk arrived with our spoon.  I sheepishly accepted the spoon and avoided her questioning gaze.  That, people, is the kind of support crew you want with you!


There was only one king size bed in the hotel room, and I'd brought my camping air mattress, intending to sleep on the floor.  However, I did not count on the fact that mom and girlfriend were not amenable to the idea of sleeping together, so I found myself in the bed with mom, while Susan toughed it out on the floor.  I think I got maybe 4 hours of sleep that night.  I was just too amped up.


Susanand I got up at 4:30am Sunday morning (mom slept in). Susan made my coffee and filled my water bottles while I got dressed and ate oatmeal.  (Again, take notes all you future support crews out there - Susan set the standard.)  We headed down to body marking, me ignoring the 37 degree chill in the air and trying to convince myself the water would feel warmer.

this pic shows the craziness of the swim start

After warm up run and stretch, we waited in the (warm!) hotel lobby for the race to start.  Mom joined us in time to see me off.  My wave entered the water at 7:20a.m., and boy, was that water COLD.  The website posted 76 degrees as the water temp., but I think it was more like 67.  The steam rising off the lake was so thick we couldn't see the next buoy.  I found myself stopping at each kayak and lifeguard to ask directions, and saw other swimmers doing the same.  The swim felt like it took forever, what with all the stopping and asking, but I later found out that I came out of the water in 34 minutes flat.  A PR!


I wasn't too cold running to the bike, so I ditched the jacket I'd planned on wearing and just grabbed my full fingered gloves instead.  The bike was a little cold with the wind, but what really bothered me was my legs were so cold I felt like I didn't have the normal climbing power I usually have on hills.  The course was all hills, with a few false flats.  As the miles ticked by, a headwind sprang up.  I kept thinking we'd turn around and head back to the TA and get a tailwind, but somehow that never happened.  I was aiming at less than 3 hours on the bike, but towards the second half of the bike leg I began to fatigue, and lost some speed.  Awesome Susan found me around mile 40, and holding up her monstrous sign shouted for me until I rounded the curve. 


I backed off a little on the last 16 miles, so as to have something left for the run.  I came back to the TA, changed into my running shoes, and took off again.  The run course was three loops, all within the resort there on Lake Conroe.  Half of the loop required running on uneven gravel and sand, and when your legs are already tired from swimming and biking, this was not a welcome challenge.  But the benefit was my cheering section set up camp along the route, and I got to see them several times while we ran our crazy loops. And I would be remiss if I did not mention Susan's crazy sign: "RUN JOCELYN RUN!!" 

I don't remember much else from the run, except that it was a haze of pain.  My right IT band started hurting (at the hip) around mile 3, and the pain intensified over the distance. I kept shifting my foot strike position to try and alleviate the pain, but nothing seemed to help.  Finally, I gave up and decided the final 13 miles were just going to hurt like hell, so I needed to suck it up and just do it. Once I made that decision, I just put my head down and ran. 

I crossed the finish line with a time of 5:46.  I was pretty happy with that, and even happier when I found out I placed fourth in my age group!  Breakdown was swim: 34 min., bike: 3:15, run: 2:08.  I don't broadcast this in person, but I'm going to add here that I was first out of the water for my age group. 

So placing fourth in my age group - what's the big deal?  I'm not a pro, I don't get any money or recognition for it.  It doesn't determine my future, or anything dramatic like that.  But in a way, it was so much more important.  So many times during training when I would miss a workout due to fatigue, or see someone who was slim and looked fit, I would feel like a poser.  Like someone who claims to be something they're not.  I think in some ways I still struggle to know, and like, who I am.  Much of this triathlon journey has been about me learning to listen to, and respect my body - a body that I spent years hating and trying to change.  So when I crossed the finish line and saw my results, I knew that I wasn't a poser.  I knew that my body had performed amazingly.  And most importantly, I knew more about who I am.  I am a triathlete.

Tapering

I've read several articles on tapering that caution triathletes to lower their caloric intake so as not to unintentionally gain weight during the period of reduced activity.  I've decided whatever author wrote those words could not possibly have been a triathlete themselves.  I'm sorry, but after months of 4-5 hour bike rides on the weekends, long runs, long swims, and any weight lifting I happen to squeeze in,  my body is HUNGRY... and it does not appreciate me telling it that it should not be so.  If triathlon has taught me anything, it has taught me the importance of listening to my body.  So - I'm listening.  To my body, not unidentified authors who tell me how I should feel.

Tapering is a mind exercise, I think.  I finish my workout in the morning and have extra time because the sessions are shorter... and I think, "I could get in some weights!"  And then I remember that tapering is about letting my body rest some.  Oh - yeah.  Guess not. 

I have mixed feelings about the upcoming race. On the one hand, I've been trying to do this race for two years.  Last year I got a stress fracture in my left hip just weeks out from the race, and ended up only being able to do the aquabike.  I'm back this year to try again.  I want to prove to myself that I CAN run 13.1 miles and not injure myself.  I want to accomplish what I set out to do 2 years ago.  And I want to take the next step towards doing a full ironman.  I've worked so hard this fall, and overcome so many obstacles - IT band problems in both knees and both hips, achilles tendonitis, and being sidelined for 2 weeks due to illness.  My mom always says "overcome your obstacles" - so I kept going, overcoming each obstacle.  This is about perseverance.

It's also about learning to accept myself and believe in myself.  Will I finally know I'm really an athlete when I cross the finish line?  Somehow, I think that's something that must come from within, not without.  But I do think completing this HIM will give me some confidence in myself. 

On Time Trials and Listening

I have a new respect for cyclists, even though I consider myself one (somewhat).  This weekend was the team time trial in Gruene, TX.  We arrived Fri. night and stayed in a cabin.  Saturday a.m. was a tour ride through the hills around Gruene, Sat. afternoon was the individual TTs, and Sunday a.m. were the team TTs.  I rode the team TT on a tandem - 27 miles of pain and panting.  I thought the race would be more like spin class... it  hurts, but not so badly that you're not having a good time.  But at 7.5 miles into the race I was ready for a break and we still had 20 miles to go.   The hill at  mile 20 was the killer.... we must have climbed for almost a mile, and climbing on a tandem is a whole lot harder than climbing on my own bike.  We ended up getting 4th place for the tandem group with an average pace of 20.4 and a time of 1:16.  Not too shabby.  At least the captain was happy. 



I'm the blue blip in the back...



 

 

On another note, I am realizing yet again that people who are able to listen and take an interest in others' lives are few and far between.  I notice that the majority of conversation is one person telling a story about themselves, and it reminds someone else of something - so that next person tells a story about themselves... and the conversation goes on like that.  Why is that?  is our society so selfish that we have grown accustomed to only thinking of ourselves all the time?  Is that something that tends to come with being a Christian - the ability to inquire, empathize, and encourage another person?  Is that something that comes with emotional maturity?  I am guilty of it myself - being more interested in making sure everyone else knows how awesome and funny I am, instead of focusing on the needs and interests and desires of others.  Maybe that's what Jesus meant when he said to love others more than we love ourselves.

Ironstar 70.3 is now officially one week away.  Gulp.