yeah, I know.

Why NOT drop out of Ironman St. George?  Why not? 

Well, because I have three special gifts, only one of which is relevant to this.  That special gift is an almost pathological stubbornness when it comes to finishing what I've started.  I paid an entry fee.  I have to show up. 

Last Saturday I did indeed head out on what was to be an epic "hill repeat" workout with *Courtney*. The plan for the day was three loops that involved going north on the boulevard near my house, which then turns west and drops about 1000 feet over 5 miles into the river valley, then return to start, which I call "the big grind" and repeat twice. With that, I figured I get three climbs in and about 70 miles.

Here's what actually happened:

It was two times, not the planned three, because as I crested the hill the second time, I realized that I'd headed out without sunscreen and had already probably guarenteed myself an unpleasant week. I was right. By that night I could not wear normal clothes, and my run the next day was scrapped because I couldn't put anything on that would touch my back, shoulders, or upper arms.

Which, for us gals, pretty much guarentees we can't go out in public without getting a citation, much less get in a 15 mile run. No bra = no running, don't even try to argue that point with me.  So, I spend the day wearing a soft shirt and working on sprinkler systems instead.

• Monday, I wore the same cycling top I got burned in to work, covered by a light shrug. Nobody noticed.
• Tuesday, I did nothing other than whimper, whine, and complain. Which is my 2nd special gift. 
• Wednesday I did the last of Satan's spin class, and then did 1600 meters in the pool with paddles, then went to work. By Wednesday night, I was able to actually sleep on my back again.
• Thursday I woke up and decided to have a weigh-in. Here in the GeekGirl household, there are strict rules for weigh-ins:

1. no clothes
2. first thing in the morning, before eating, drinking, or breathing too much.
3. if at all possible, after visiting le toilette.
4. It doesn't hurt to be a bit dehydrated.

I bumped up a pound or two during my sunburned pity party, but dropped back down again, so no weight loss this week. I'm holding steady at 164. ish.

This weekend, I will try to get in 4 climbs over at the big grind. I'll try to also do that planned 15 mile run, or more if I feel like it.  I'm not obsessive about my training like some people and like some other people, or even their friends but then again, they are much faster than me, so maybe they're right and I'm wrong. Maybe.

I'm not sure I'm going to do another Ironman after this year.  The training is grueling and time-consuming and cuts into my TV watching time.  We'll see. 

...

Suckfest's younger brother...

is known as the "Run to Break the Silence" 20k.

It sounds innocent enough, doesn't? Awwwww. Why, it's not even a half marathon. It's a baby half marathon! How sweet. Yes, let's go do this. It's for charity, for a local Oral School

The day after the 80-mile suckfest ride in high 90s heat, after which the DailyPlate informed me that I could have 2088 more calories (but I was too tired to get them) yes, let's go run in the foothills . In the heat.

So. It starts out at Sandia Casino, and then climbs gently for a while, and then sucks your soul dry for over 2 miles, and then goes back down to the casino. It's a good, well-marked course on dirt service roads, and was well supported with water and gatorade and nice volunteers.

As you can see by the profile, it's not completely straight up and not completely straight down. I wasn't last, but it was hot, and I was pretty sick of being tired, sore, and damp, so I finally finished, and said, "take me home". And Baboo said, do you want to go get food first? So then I was like, "um - yeah, okay. Food. Then home."

There was about 1400 feet of elevation gain and loss. My quads are treshed. My inner adductors are pissed. My butt muscles are pissed.

Then I went to Einstein's bagels, and asked for a spinach and mushroom bagel pizza on a fluorentine bagel. No, wait, did I say A bagel pizza? I ordered three. And a cup of brocolli cheese soup. Then I went to Keva juice, and got a large Keva Kolada. Mmm.

Miles for this week:

Bike: 80 miles

Run: 22.3 miles

Swim: 1700 meters

Distances for July:

Bike: 367 Mi

Run: 53.65

Swim 11150

Now I will shower. And sit in air conditioning. And drink, drink, drink. And sleep, sleep, sleep.

...

Ironman: What it means to me now.

I guess everyone has something different that their goal means to them...and different goals that are meaningful.

I mentioned before that I had a voice that had been dogging me for most of my adult life...I think that to some degree, a lot of people have little nagging voices. It's just that for some of us, the voices are louder. Some people can drown out their bad thoughts with a 5K. For me, it took several marathons, a second master's degree, and a second Ironman.
Whew! That was a loud, incessant voice.

A loud voice that sounded a lot like my Dad.
But anyway.

So now what? Well, now, when I hesitate at some task, my brain pokes as me, but only when I'm not doing what I should be doing. It says things like, Hey, you did an ironman, remember? You can do this. For instance, I got a mammogram after putting it off for three years. I told myself, "Why do I keep putting this off? I've run 3 marathons in the past year, and I can't get some dinky mammogram?" So then I got the mammogram.

As it turns out, a mammogram is a lot easier than running a marathon.

So yesterday I was doing a 5 mile run. Okay, so it was a 4.8 mile run. Whatever. Anyway, one of my favorite routes is very hilly. There's about .25 mile of flat, the rest is uphill or downhill, and it's an out-and-back. My legs are still a bit tired, I think, and as I was climbing up the longest climb my legs were achy and draggy and I was breathless. I stopped and walked for a bit.

Then, Hey, walking girl! You did an ironman. This is an 8K. You can run this!

This happens a lot now. Things I used to put off doing I just go ahead and do them. Even mundane things are affected. Writing papers for school. Defrosting the refrigerator. Whatever.

Nothing seems hard now. Make no mistake about it; I'm Still. Lazy. but my procrastination is less frought with fear than it used to be.

And that voice? Well, it sounds remarkably like my voice now.

...

Maybe it's just me...

I think I look just a wee bit thinner when I put my Ironman Loo and Ironman CD'A pictures side-by-side.

IM Bike, 2007, and 2008:


Marathon walk/run, 2007 and then 2008:


I certainly look more energetic. A bit less pained, at my finish this year:


Maybe, some day, I can finish without one of those glow-in-the-dark necklaces on.

This weekend, I did a 30 mile bike and an 8 mile run. Both felt pretty good. I'm getting ready for Barb's race, a coupla sprints, and to pace Sweet Baboo for 30 miles of his first 100-miler.

And, as always, I have to ask myself......I wonder what else I can do?

...

Now what...?

Thank you for joining the
Ford Ironman 2008 Arizona
VOLUNTEER TEAM.

If this is a new registration, an email confirmation will be sent shortly. If you have added a job area to an existing registration you will not receive another email. Please keep your current ID number for future reference. Jobs are subject to availability and you will be contacted when assignments have been determined.

=====================================================

Now, why would I be interested in volunteering at inaugural November 2008 Ironman Arizona? Sure, Sweet Baboo will be doing this one...along with many Outlaw buds...
I hear it's FLATTER than Couer D'Alene and Kentucky...and, of course, it is a race that sells out fast...
didja know volunteers get to sign up first for an Ironman, before the general public?

Hmmm...

A Beautiful Day - CDA Race report, P1

Bad Internet here. It's taking me a while to get this posted. I took a hot soak this morning in the hotel here in Fruita and did a body inventory to answer the question So, body, how we doin'?

Left foot, A blister on my middle and "index" toe. Small ones. Oh, and blisters? After they pop? Don't like hot water. Ow. Right foot, very small blisters on the same two toes. These blisters all occurred on the bike. I did not wear my sexy toe socks on the bike, but I will next time. Bottom of right foot: very tender spot in the ball of my foot that probably would have become a blister had I continued to insult it by running amok in Cordy Lane.

Calves: no problems. I attribute that to all the trail and hill running I did this spring. Quads: mildly pissed off, but very bearable. Much less stiff and tender than after other endurance events.
Skin: Very, very mild pinkness. I rubbed in sun screen, spf 80, the night BEFORE the race and again the morning of, and then got sprayed with it after the swim. Sweet Baboo had read that sunburn speeds up dehydration by messing with your skin's ability to breathe and perspire properly, or something like that. I was pretty badly burned at IM Loo last year, so I was taking no chances. Otherwise, I've discovered some new places to chaffe. Will be addressing this problem with lots and lots of Baby Aveeno next time prior to getting on the bike!

Chest: achy. I have asthma, and whenever I go short on sleep, my chest aches and I wheeze a little.
Lower back: Achy. Nothing that some stretching and a nice long Hatha Yogurt class (I always call my yoga class my "yogurt" class) won't fix. And a message. The rubbing kind, not the voice kind.

So, okay. My race report. Here I'll talk about the swim and the bike. Here's some mood music for you:


SWIM

Well, my swim was about what I expected it to be, given that it was colder and I. Am. Lazy. I really blew off my swim training this spring, because I wanted to focus on the run and the bike. I will be refocusing on the swim because of the unexpected results: It wasn't just that I was slow, but I became mired in a thrash-fest of other slow swimmers from which I was unable to extracate myself for nearly an hour. I know, I know: that sounds mean. But it's the truth. When the cannon went off, I had counted to ten, to let the more aggressive swimmers get in and avoid getting pummeled in the process, and every time I do this I get stuck in a human washing machine.

Next time, I'm not only going to train, but I'm going to put my goggles on under my cap and take my chances with the fast folks.

I've never really done the mass start that is so indicative of the Ironman. So the cannon went off!! I counted to ten, and then ran and dove in. In such a swim, all you hear is splashing. All you see is arms! I found myself trapped in a human washing machine of people who started side-stroking, breast-stroking, and one guy was dog-paddling, and this was before the first loop was even half over. Eventually, I was able to make a space for myself and start swimming properly, and finished the first loop in about 45 minutes. Yay!

then as I finished the first loop I was surprised at how people walked slowly and casually over the timing mat and then slowly over to get back into the water. WTF? I had to weave in and out them to get back to the water, where I dove back in. On the second loop, a wind had come up, starting some wave action on the water, blowing waves at me, which was a bit disorienting. I was bobbing up and down even as I tried to swim forward.

Also, for some reason, the kayakers had gathered near the end buoys, blocking them. Not sure what that was all about. But at least at this point I had a nice open space to swim in, even if I was getting bored and tired of swimming. The second loop took nearly an hour for me! I finished the swim and exited, running to t1 and the bike.

BIKE

Hmmm. What can I say about the bike? Well, I can say this:

• The really big hills are between mile 22 and 44 (first loop) and 78 and 100 (second loop)
• There aren't quite as many as there were as there were at Kentucky, but the hills are looooooonger and steeeeeeeper. Like, over 6% steep.
  
• On the first loop, the hill are "challenging".
  
• On the second loop, the hills take away your will to live.

The first loop I was having a good time. I was smiling and thinking, this is a great! This is a great life.
What a beautiful day!
I am a lucky woman.
I was singing U2's "Beautiful Day" to myself. What beautiful country! What friendly citizens! Seriously, the people I encountered on the course were amazing: enthusiastic and friendly, right up until the end. I pulled over once to let the large fly or bee or whatever had found its way into my helmet out, but otherwise stayed on the bike until around mile 60, when I finally got off and hit the porta-potty. I had my brush with greatness when, predictably, the pros blew by me early in the loop.

There are some pretty cool downhills! I went down them full tilt, my aero helmet making a really cool train-like noise that only I could hear. After a while, I started yelling choo choo on my downhills. (Like all things southern, I sounded just like a freight train.) At one point, I hit 41 miles per hour. At mile 30-something, there was a timing mat, and I started imagining good energy from my blogger buds coming at me whenever I heard the beep as I went over timing mats for the rest of the course.

On the way back into town, between mile 44 and 56, there was wind In. My. Face. That sapped some energy, but I was half expecting it, having talked to a couple locals before the race. As I rounded the halfway point, I sort of high-fived myself, because I knew I had passed the cutoff. It was only about 12:30, I think. I went by the bloggy peeps cheering section and heard my name being yelled. Awesome!

Then I hit the second loop. Not. So. Great. I was almost crying but mostly just muttering and swearing to myself. It's pretty clear that my bike needs work. My quads are weak. I hate hill work, and it shows. I was getting tired pretty fast and, and no longer singing "Beautiful Day". My chain kept jumping off my cassette and lodging between the casette and the tire - the first time I was able to pedal backwards and move it back out, but the second time I had to get off the bike and get my hands greasy. I need to have that looked at.

I was stopping halfway up some of the hills just to let my breathing slow down. By the time I hit mile 80, I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't make it, and I was pissed.

But for me, pissed works. "Pissed " raises my ire and makes me work harder. By mile 90, my will had come back and I calculated that I might make it. By this time, though, I wasn't smiling so much. I was grumbling and asking myself why on earth do I do this $hit? What is WRONG with me? Normal people are canning, or watching TV, or something. And here I am paying someone to put myself through this crap.
I kept stopping on the way up the hills to give my quads a brief respite and let my breathing slow.

By mile 100, I knew I would make it so I decided to see if I could hit T2 by 5 pm. The wind had died down some, so I was able to make some good time coming back in. I was smiling again, and singing something. When I hit mile 100, and crested the last hill, there was a short flat sorta downhillish ride to an intersection, where there was a guy standing there directing us back toward town, and he said, "It's all flat after this!"
I flew by shaking my finger at him laughing and smiling, yelling, Don't tease me!

I hit t2 and was pretty happy, although tired. I was done with hills and bikes and even though I had discovered some new girl places to chaffe (eek) I felt pretty good.

I knew that I had nearly 7 hours to finish before Midnight, but I was hoping to finish before 11:23, you know, beat the moon. I left T2 around 5:09, I think, considerably faster than at Kentucky. I had finished my bike about 50 minutes faster than I had at Kentucky. I was feeling pretty good, and happy, because now I get to run! (How weird is that?) My right foot hurt like hell, but as soon as I took my bike shoes off and walked on it, it stopped.

Okay. I'm going to lay down some more and rest. I'll write about the run later, after coffee and some red bulls.

Later Post: 2nd Ironman Finish

...

Iron drama queen.

Ironman CDA is coming for me, roaring down on me.

I would be remiss to say that, obviously, I just want to finish IM-CDA. But there's a little more to it than that. See, the thing is, most of my life I've managed AD/HD. When you grow up with it, you acquire a lot of little demons. They whisper things at you when you're at your most vulnerable. Lazy. Incompetent.
Scatter-brained.

Most of my life, I've been chased by one little demon in particular: one that whispers in my ear:
You just got lucky.

When I got my first degree, I remember thinking, boy, I was lucky that the professors all liked me! There's other examples, but it's not useful to write about them. The result of all of it is that I make the following attribution to my achievements: If I did it, it can't be that hard or I just got by, or it was easy that day etc. etc. etc.

Triathlon is the first thing I've ever been able to do that was all me, no luck involved, and it's been great for my self esteem. It doesn't matter who you know. You do the work, and finish, or you don't, and then you don't.

But then, last year at Ironman Louisville last they extended the finishing time by 37 minutes. My finishing time, 17:19, the last official finisher. And there was the little demon again, whispering: Boy, lucky for you they extended that cutoff.

I've never admitted it, but that's bothered me a bit. Yes, I finished. Yes, I followed all the rules. But since my issue is 'getting by' it's pushed a very big button.

Lucky for you... lucky...

and all this goes back to the sneaking suspicion that really, I'm just not all that special, and

one of these days, everyone will know it. They'll all find out. Then they'll all know the truth.

There are cutoffs halfway on the bike, and the run. They aren't any different from the cutoffs I would have imposed on myself. But there they are, gnashing their teeth at me. Beat me! Beat me!

This time there will be no time extension by which I can hedge my bets. If I don't make the cutoffs (1:30 pm, pacific time, for the first bike loop; 5:30 for the end of the bike; 9 pm for the 1st run loop) then I'm done.

But if, when, I do make it, then I've really made it. Maybe the whispering, naggy self-doubt will stop. I guess. Now, I know before you tell me that all this sounds really, really stupid: I'm still me, whether I finish or not. But you know, we all have our demons, our buttons, and issues, and now I've told you mine.

I'm going to get up tomorrow and walk into the lake in Coeur D'Alene Idaho and head out, and try to beat the moon, and go Ironman a second time.

As Commodore says, this one Ironman doesn't doesn't define me.
It is nevertheless very important to me. More than I want to admit. So, In addition to my somewhat lacksadaisical training and legendary stubbornness and the many, many phantom pains I've dicovered that come an go right before a race, I'll take onto the course all the best of my friends to sustain me, including:

Pirate's Pragmaticism.
Duane's Hope.
Mary's Spirit.
Stronger's Strength.
Cody's Optimism.
AndraSue's determinism.
Cindy's encouragement.
Sweet Baboo's love.

This will be my last post until after the race.

BEAT THE MOON!!!!

...

Iron Schwag.

The stuff on the left is stuff that we got when we picked up our packet.





The stuff down below is the bike kit I bought at the expo. Now I HAVE to finish; this set is too gorgeous not to be worn and I can only wear it (in my mind) if I actually finish this thing.

Iron travel, days 2 and 3.

So, days 2 and 3.

Saturday morning, Sweet Baboo (aka, father of the year) and I did a little workout he planned at Ridgeway state park near Ouray. The workout was a brief swim in the lake (around 50 degrees) and then short bike, and then about a 2 mile run.

I got to practice my transitions, and discovered that AFTER swimming in a lake that is in the low 50s you get used to the water, but after you get out your fingers don't Work. So. Well.
Zippers, snaps, socks? fuggetabout it. Looks like I'll be letting the wetsuit strippers do their jobs.

I also noticed that I was pretty chilled, still, heading out on the bike, so I'm taking along a lightweight jacket, just in case, in addition to my arm warmers. Also wondering if I should consider cycling KNICKERS for this ride.

This morning, we headed out to Grand Teton and Yellowstone National parks, where we did a couple of short trail runs, totaling about 5-1/2 miles for me, and a couple of short hikes, totalling about 3 miles. All of this stuff has been above altitude which means I hike energetically until my heart is about to leap out of my chest (or not so much, as it turns out) up hills and then run down hills. And I STILL exceeded my WW points for the day. Crap.

We saw a lot of cool stuff: Buffalo, Elk, bacteria mats, and geological wonders. As I am heavy into nerdly things (remember the undergraduate degree in Geology) I was practically climbing over the fence wanting to stick my fingers in the hot water, figure out what chemicals caused all those colors. And swooning, of course, over Old Faithful.

Sweet Baboo took pictures at Yellowstone. See his blog for them!

Tomorrow, we arrive in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. Then the anxiety truly begins: Friday, I noted with MUCH anxiety that weather.com predicted a 70% chance of rain RAIN on RACE day, June 22nd.
Now, thankfully, they're revised their prediction for Jun 22:

30% Isolated T-Storms,High70° Low 48°

I also checked weather underground's forecast for June 22nd:
Partly sunny with a 20 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms. Highs in the mid to upper 70s.

I think I'll take: the second one!


...

Iron dieting.

This week marks the second taper week heading into IM-CDA, and I'm working on adjusting my eating for recovery and the decrease in activity. Mmy workouts include yoga, a 2 mile swim (or thereabouts) , a short run, some spinning, and a mini-brick, including all three events, on Friday.

I've been eating like a PIG. In weight-watchers, you earn extra eating priveleges by working out. One time I ran 10 miles and earned enough to eat a half pizza. I've been careful to just fuel my workouts, most of the time, and I've lost 10 pounds.

Now that I'm tapering, though, I have to eat lighter. Right now I'm eating mostly lean protein and lots of antantioxidant foods: fruits and vegetables, soy foods, and lots of water. Next week, the calories will be shifted over to lean carbs and lots of antioxidant foods. It looks like my race weight is going to be about 156 lbs (11 stone, ~71 kg)

I'm taking in lots of electrolytes, since drinking lots of fluids without electrolytes can flush them right out of your body. With an IM coming in about 12 days, I need to hang onto all the electrolytes I can hold onto. So, I've been drinking lots of sugar-free sports drink.

PS: If you've decided to make it your mission to warn others about the dangers of artificial sweeteners, no offense, but I'm not interested. Thanks.

Not much more to say. I guess I'm a bit cranky. I'm missing my post-workout binges.

...

Insanely Sexy Socks, the sequel.

<-- These are Blue Seventy neoprene socks.

They are, as all gear designed for foot comfort must be, insanely sexy.

Current water temp at CDA, about 50 degrees F (11 degrees C).

Today I swam Cochiti Lake (60 degrees F) It's 2.2 miles if you swim down and back. I found that I've been very run focused and my swim has slowed down as a result.

Hey, why can't fitness be like a college degree? You reach a certain level, and then you get this certificate, and it's yours forever. No matter how much TV I watch, I'll still have a master's degree. Not so with fitness though.
Wouldn't that be nice?
E.g., You can now run an 11 minute mile. forever.

Anyway. Cindy swam with me, (and faster, I might add.) and I'd like to take a moment to publicly thank her for accompanying me in a great deal of my training. Honestly, if you've known me for long you have some idea the level of laziness I'm capable of reaching. However, if I know that someone is waiting for me, I'll show up and do the training. Plus, there's no way I would have done this swim alone - not safe.

Anyway, my swim was incredibly S-L-O-W, although I figured out on the way back across that if I sort of pull up on the torse of my wetsuit (neoprene wedgie not withstanding) and pull up on the sleeves, this provides some "give" in the neoprene over my shoulders, so I could reach better in my stroke. I'm going back out tomorrow, but a little more gently because I don't want to wrench my shoulder. I'll be doing it twice next week, with at least a day in between swims.

Lastly, I've been obsessing some more over the the bike course at CDA. Looks like, about 12 miles of gentle rollers, and then about 25 miles of hills, then about twenty miles or so downhill. Lather, rinse, repeat. If I don't get a flat, I may actually pull this off. Ayii.

And hey, did I mention Mini-baboo has been gone for 2 weeks, and will be returning in JULY? Hah!
More on that later.

...

How do you plan for an ironman?

Today I'm mostly thinking in print. So how do you plan for an Ironman? Well, if you're not incredibly lazy, you train more than me. But I, of course, am lazy. So here's my totals:

May's totals ....................2008 totals (so far)
Bike: - 282.5 Mi..................... 1042.1 Mi
Run: - 84.29 Mi.......................368.48 Mi
Swim: - 7430 M (4.4 mi)......20730 M (12.5 mi)

These days, I waver between feeling excitement and dread, and worry and confidence. It's a hell of a rollercoaster. And like all rollercoasters, it nauseates me. Erp.
And even though my training has been far less than it should be, it's far more than my training last year. Yyyesssss, that's right. This year I was sorta lazy, but last year I was lazy SQUARED and i paid the price. I finished, but if they hadn't extended the cutoff I would not have. So I'm counting on this training thing coming through for me.

So here's how the planning breaks down, after the cannon goes of at 7am on June 22nd.

SWIM: At IM-LooAvul I swam in 1:31, and I'm fine with this. I will probably be a bit slower this year because the water will about 20 degrees colder. I'll be wearing whatever neoprene is allowed, and I'm confident about beating the cutoff at 9:20 am.

T1: At IM-LooAvul this took about 11 minutes. I should be able to knock about 5 minutes off this. I'll be pulling on cycling shorts, into which has been smooshed a LOT of Baby Aveeno and Sports Slick, a sleeveless jersey, arm warmers, thick cycling socks. Sunscreen applied to my shoulders and arms and nose. Sunglasses.

The Bike: My nemesis. This is what will make or break me. At At IM-LooAvul my bike time was 8:55. 8:55, and the bike cutoff is 5 pm. I've got to take about 45 minutes off my time. yikes. The weather at IM-LooAvul was mid-nineties with about 70%+ humidity. IM-CDA is supposed to be cooler - by as much as 15 degrees - and drier.
Nutrition: My nutrition at IM Loo worked, so I'm not going to change that. De-fizzed coke and three SportLegs capsules at mile 0 and mile 56. Gatorade the rest of the time. 2 Fig Newtons at mile 0, 30, 60, 90 with plain water.

T2: At IM-LooAvul, this was 20 minutes, because I sat down and cried. Think I'll avoid that this time. I'll change to a long-sleeved meshy long-distance running shirt, RaceReady Long Distance Fitness Shorts, of course the insanely sexy Injinji socks, my NB768s, and my Garmin.

The Run: The part I'm worried about least. The bike cutoff is 5 pm, after which I'll have 7 hours to finish the marathon. At IM-LooAvul, I did the marathon in 6:20, when it was hotter and much more humid. I'll be carrying my inhaler, SportLegs, and blister bandaids. I'll also be carrying a hand-held water bottle. My Garmin will chime every minute.
Nutrition: Same as IM-LooAvul, coke with ice and SportLegs capsules at mile 0 and 13. Powergels every 2 miles. Gatorade throughout.

So that's the plan, i guess. I'll be fine-tuning it over the next couple weeks.
Goal: Finish before midnight.

...

You Will Do This.

It doesn't matter how many times I see this video, it still chokes me up. And I am not a gal that gets choked up easily.


...

Ironman run, part 2

Okay. Well, I'm not going to know how things went until my classes start at 9 am. It appears that the substitutes haven't followed my instructions, so I had time to write this morning.

IN the photo on the right, the cast of characters, which I referred to in my part 1 run post are in this photo, which was taken by Duane.

From left to right are the Ironmen/Ironwomen and their respective Ironmates
(back row:) Ironman Bones, Ironman Miguel, Ironman Me, Ironman Sweet Baboo, Ironmom Mama Baboo and her husband
(front row:) ironmate Lorna, Ironmate Michi, Ironman Wiz, Ironmate Amy and Ironman Ricky V.

So Sunday night, as I was running/walking it occured to me that there was some sort of song, a song, that I heard on an episode of Quantum Leap when Dr. Becket became Elvis. I hummed that to myself as well as muttered nonsensical rhymes and words, none of which I can remember now, except for that song, which is one of the nicer Elvis songs, and I'm not even an Elvis fan.

Well, it was on one moonlight night,
Stars shining bright...

Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining....

The second trip out was not as fun as the first. It was dark, and quiet, and deserted. The happy chatter of people on their second loop was gone. I'd seen the screaming crowd and then had to walk away from it; we all had. I had ten more miles to go, and it was nearly 10:00 pm. It seemed to take hours and hours to get to the turn around point, and then I knew I had 5 more miles to go, and it was nearly 11:00. This out-and-back seemed longer. Much, much longer.

On the 2nd half of the run an ambulance went flying by me about 4 times, scaring the crap out of me. There were about 36 people pulled off the course for various medical reasons. I saw people whose bodies looked like question marks, they were so hunched over and tired. I felt so, so lucky that my stomach had held up.

As I figured, by the time I reached the 21 mile mark, I was pretty tired. I wanted to take longer walk breaks but my foot only hurt when I walked, and I kept looking at my Garmin, which seemed to mock me in a snotty canned female voice with a British accent, "if you stop running now, you won't make it."

Then a new development, I could not walk in a straight line. I would start to veer off to the right. I could jog in a straight line, however. Between my feet, the time ticking down on the Garmin, and the vertigo, I kept up the running.

I was So. Tired. Not just tired from running all day, but the lack of sleep was kicking in. I felt sleepy. The aid stations were packing it up but they kept out enough of everything to make sure everyong was taken care of. They offered me a veritable smorgasborg of gels, "what flavor do you want?"

Oh GAWD I'm so sick of gels. Who cares what flavor. Just give me one with caffein.

I'd suck down the PowerGel double latte and wash it down with lemon-lime gatorade. Yum.
I had another ice-cold coke around mile 22.

I figured I'd passed 20-30 people on the run, which was somewhat comforting since hundreds had passed me on the bike, but less so this time, because I knew that I was fighting the clock, which meant that every person I passed was a potential DNF.

According to coach Jimmy, I started the run ranked at 1656 and finished it ranked at 1556. 198 people DNF'd. 198. And this is considered low; at Ironman Wisconsin last year they had at least 400 DNF.

Then I was on my way back from the turnaround, and I passed people who were still working their way toward the turn around, and I didn't know what to say. I knew that I would just barely make it in, but these folks were a good 4-5 miles behind me. They were all tired, and all walking slowly. They wouldn't make it. They wouldn't be "official" finishers. One of them was Boo. I passed one guy who appeared to have his parents out on the course walking with him, getting him things.

But who was I to be discouraging? Maybe they'd find some last minute energy. So I just said, "You're lookin' good there!" to everyone I saw, even if their faces were nearly touching the ground, hunched over with fatigue as they pumped their arms, trying to walk faster.

Still about 3 or 4 miles out I saw a middle-of-the-night move out. I remember that. It's what you do when you're being evicted. Since the road was closed, people were carrying out mattresses and other household furniture in the dark, running and putting it in the back of a pickup truck.

Then there was 2 more miles to go.

A Ford Ironman Escape SUV, hazard lights flashing, passed me slowly, going the other way, and I was pretty sure I knew where it was going. They were headed out to pull chips. I felt bad for those people. Less than 10 miles from the finish line, after going over 130 miles all day long, some person they didn't know was going to say, however kindly they might try to be, "I'm sorry, but I need to take your chip."

As I headed down the last couple miles I started speeding up, worried about not finishing in time. I know the websight says I ran a sub-ten minute mile, but I didn't. I don't think the chip mats were 4 miles apart. The street was empty. My quads were screaming for me to stop. I was exhausted and wasn't sure how long I could keep it up, but it was already midnight.

I passed 3 walking guys who cheered me on, even as they headed to the finish line behind me. I could run faster, as long as I knew that it was over soon.

I could hear the yelling from blocks away. I'd heard it on my first trip through but now, 3 hours later, it sounded exactly the same. It was like that sound you make when you're faking a cheering noise--you know, by breathing noisily out your mouth? It was so late, that I figured it must be a recording or something. There couldn't possibly that many people still up past midnight, cheering in the last runners for Ironman Louisville. But they were. There were that many people, and right now, just after midnight, they were screaming like crazy, blowing horns, ringing cowbells.

I rounded the cornder into the bright lights in my face, the screaming crowd. Up ahead, I saw a smiling Baboo. I hadn't read his post about me at this point so I didn't realize how relieved and happy he was that I had finished.

The chute seemed reallllly long. Then I was running on the Ironman carpeting. I heard the booming voice of the announcer, and the cheering. I couldn't really see what was going on around me or understand the announcer, I was looking for a timing mat that I could cross. I saw myself on a large screen, and for some reason, it struck me how large and white my stomach was.

I crossed under the arch at the end of the finish chute and ran out of room to run, so I stopped. And there I was. The last official finisher of the inaugural Ironman Louisville, KY.

They asked me if I needed medical treatment and I said, "I don't know." Quick as a flash I was in a wheelchair and being rolled to the medical treatment place. Someone put a finisher's medal around my neck and Baboo gave me my finisher's towel (?). My muscles immediately started stiffening up. They asked me if I wanted a blanket and I said no, because I was really hot. I could feel that I was sunburned.

One or two men crossed behind me, and then that was it. They closed the finish line down exactly 17 hours after the last swimmer when into the water at 7:37 am. My time was 17:19.

I wanted to sleep but there were all these bright lights. I was in a room like a gym. Baboo gave me some pizza. Pirate called. I called Mini Baboo, and told him I was done. Mama Baboo hovered overhead for a moment - she'd been so relieved when I finished that she nearly cried. She congratulated me and then disappeared. The nurse took off my shoes and, as others have done, marveled at the insanely sexy toe socks. My feet appeared to be okay, no blisters or bruises, although I did find a small blister at the end of one toe on my left foot about a day and a half later.

As the IV drip worked its way through me, I started shivering like crazy, and they covered me with one of those mylar blankets and then a woolen one.

They asked me if I knew my name and where I was. I had to fight the urge to laugh. I was giddy at being done and being vertical and being off my feet. Sure, I knew where I was. I was in triathlon hell, but now I'm in Louisville. My name is Iron Misty.

Eventually, about 1, they sent me on my way with a liter of fluid in me, "as a precaution" even though I didn't have any symptoms of dehydration. I was just really tired. Then were told that we had until 1 to get our stuff.

Uh, okay... So, we walked very gingerly to 5 or 6 blocks to get our bike and bags. Baboo stayed behind a bit to get a pizza, but they had lots leftover and everyone was leaving so they just gave him a whole pizza, and he caught up with me at transition. I noshed on the pizza all night and for breakfast the next day.

We walked our bikes back to the hotel. My legs were so stiff and sore I felt like I had leg braces on. My right foot hurt like crazy, the worst care of hot foot I've ever had.

My right foot and stopped hurting. I think it was a really bad case of hotfoot and then, when I got off the bike, all the nerves were trying to come back online. Baboo has marveled at my marathon time, and I suppose I have, too. My only marathon in January was 6 hours, and at Ironman Louisville, it was 6:20, after 112 miles of Kentucky hills and 2.4 miles of the Ohio river.

For now, I need some time to let all this marinade. I don't think it's quite hit me yet. Sitting here at my desk, waiting for my first class to start, I'm wondering if the substitutes did what I asked them to do.

Later on I'll get a message, and then I have to come back here to open house night. I figure I'll get to sleep around 8 or 8:30, and then I'm hoping for 10 hours of continuous sleep.

I'm overwhelmed at all the comments and emails I've gotten. It made me cry. I'm overwhelmed at the love and support of my friends and especially of Sweet Baboo. But then, he overwhelms me most of all; that's why I married him.

You guys, though, you really gave me something special. I loved reading the comments as people were tracking me through the race. I've done that before for other runners, and each time I ran over a timing mat I imagined that maybe somebody somewhere had new numbers pop up on their computer screen.

I'll write something less rambling and a little more concise when I get my bearings. It's lunch and I've already had one administrator in here checking to see if I have my objectives on the boards, etc. It's back to the real world for now, I'm looking foward to laying down and letting this all sink in without immediately falling asleep.

...

Spanked by Kentucky

First I want to say how blown away I was by the virtual cheering that went on while I was slogging way across the Kentucky Hills. I'm overwhelmed by it all. Thank you so much!

Second, I've never seen such enthusiastic volunteers in any race. They treat you like royalty. The race is also well-organized and well-run.

Here now, what I can remember about the swim and the bike.

2.4 Mile Swim
This was a great way to start off my experience. Due to the increased flow of the river they had moved the swim start to a more protected inlet next to "toehead island" and the type of start to a first-come, first served seeded start. There is a map of the swim here, which will open in a new window.

The race director had said at the pre-race briefing that the course and cutoffs would be adjusted to when the last swimmer went into the water, so if you're a slower triathlete you'd be better served by being one of the first in the water. That was all the encouragement I needed; I was the eighth one in!

At the beginning of the swim, after the pros went off, the official Kentucky Derby bugler played their "first call" signature song (http://www.fmaalumni.org/qt/_firstcall.wav) marking the beginning of a sporting event and then they seeded us off rapid-fire by running us over the timing mat and off the end of the dock in rapid-fire, "Go! Go! Go!" much like I would expect skhydivers to be fed out of a plane.

I hit the water running and started swimming against a little bit of current up the island, out past the islend into the river current, and then eventually up and around the two buoys at the end, and then down river. I had a pretty good swim, about 1:31. I was pretty motivated to bank as much time as possible for what I knew was going to be a long day on the bike.

I came up out of the water, and there were people there to haul you up. They had been trained to help you with your wetsuit, so since it wasn't wetsuit legal they just unzipped the back of my fast-skin. I was on surprisingly steady legs right away and ran up the chute and down the other side to where my swim-to-bike transition bag was hanging on a numbered peg (we wen't allowed to have items at our bike) and ran into the woman's changing tent.

I had placed my bike shoes on the aerobars of my bike because there was so little room in the bag they gave me with the hydration pack already in there, and the ground, which meant I was going to be putting them on over wet feet. I was hoping they'd dry off in my shoes, forgetting that nothing ever seems to dry when you're this close to a larg body of water. Things just kind of stay damp all the time.

When I entered the changing tent, one person assigned herself to me and helped me on and off with things, putting my swim stuff back into the back I had just vacated and asking how she could help me more. It was the closest I've come to being treated like a pro. I was still damp and so getting dressed in spandex biking clothes was hard. I grappled with my hydration pack and put that on as well, and when finally dressed and ready ran out into the bike racks, where I was surprised to see a lot of bikes still left. I grabbed my bike shoes and put them, my helmet, and ran my bike up the long exit shoot and out onto the road.

112 mile Bike
This is what nearly broke me. Here is a map of the bike, which will open in a new window. We traveled out 42 via River Road, and then there was a short out-and-back returning to 42 before you entered the "LaGrange Loop" which you did twice, before returning to 42 and heading back into LouAville.

The bike was every bit as hilly as the bike profile imagines, and it feels like you're in the Sierras. Long screaming downhills are great but eventually I stopped enjoying them because I knew, I always knew, there'd be a long steep uphill on the other side. Toward the end, when I would crest a hill, I was in tears because my quads hurt so bad, and I had run out of ways to sit comfortably on the saddle.

There was just no end to the hills. I have it on good authority from someone who asked to be nameless that actually, the new bike course at Couer d'Arlen was much easier than this; this was actually what one might expect from Kona. The sun defied the weather prediction and was present most of the day, blasting down on us so that when pedaling uphill in my small chain ring my face was blazing hot.

I also sweated like crazy. I abandoned may nutrition plan and instead just drank solid gatorade all day, making sure to take calories every hour form my Carbo-pro and occasionally drinking plain water with that. Each aid station had a bottle dump as you came in; you would toss your old bottles and then grab a bottle from a waiting voluteer. When you grabbed the Gatorade endurance formula, they had already taken off the seals and opened it for you, and then you stuck it in your bottle cage.

The water was always cold. They also offered bananas and all manner of foods but I was largely focused on the gatorade because it was so hot. I munched on some pringles and fig newtons from time to time, but I estimate that in addition to the 64 ounces of accelerade in my back that I drank 6-8 bottles of gatorade and 2-3 bottles of plain water. I would also occasionally pour some of the plain cold water over my head and back.

It was a long and difficult day. Between mile 40 and 80 my bike computer stopped working, so I had no idea how fast I was going or my average speed. My resolve, and my energy level, were dropping dramatically. Emotionally, I was in bad spirits and much less invested in finishing what had now, in my mind, become "this stupid race." I had been passed by nearly every person in the race, including going up hills, and at this point, I. Hated. Everyone.

At mile 60 I finally pulled over, went to the bathroom, and got my "special needs bag" and had a coke, which lit a fire under my ass for the next 25 miles or so, but the hills got to me, sure they did.

Eventually, as the day went on, I trying not to cry and was really wishing for mechanical failure, so that I could leave the course with dignity. There was just no end to the hills. There were few flats or places where you could just lay in your aero bars and fewer chances to get up out of the saddle and stretch. Eventually I just started screaming my favorite curse words at the next hills, but as my energy flagged I just muttered, MOTHERF$%&R whenever I saw the next hill.

As I passed through the LaGrange loop, I had to smile - people were out and screaming like crazy. They rang cowbells and honked horns. More than one an SUV pulled up next to me out in the country and someone honked and rang a cowbell, which I'm sure was meant well but scared the hell out of me at the time! People were in the front yards, in front of churches, in front of elementary schools with signs and pleanty of cheer, and it only slightly abated as late as 3 in the afternon. There was some serious cheer love in LaGrange Kentucky yesterday!

Men argued with wives as they were going into church, according to Baboo, who heard at least one argument about how "we can go to chuch any time; there's this sporting even going on, and we need to cheer for the people in it!"

In the last 25 miles I was hauling ass to make it to transition before the bike cutoff, plus I was angry. Angry at my weak legs and those damned, unending hills. In the middle part of the course, my desire to leave the course with mechanical failure was thwarted by ever-present and helpful bike mechanics who seemed to almost pop out of the bushes.

I wished ferverently for my crank to fall off. They checked it and found it tight. I said that my tires felt soft. They said they were fine. They fixed my bike computer and I realized how much the hills were taking out of my time. I started pedaling like crazy, ignoring the growing pain in my right foot, my ass, my hoo-hoo, and the clear signs that I was pretty-badly sunburned on my back. I passed one woman who had simply pulled over and was standing there, motionless, with her head in her hands, fifteen miles from the finish.

At the same time, beginning about mile 70, I was wishing someone would come and pull my chip. Oh, how I wanted that to happen! In my fantasy, I would be all dramatic and sink to my knees, being all like, "no! No! I wanted to finish!" while secretly being relieved and wandering down to the finish line to drink cool drinks and wait for Baboo to come in. In another fantasy, I simply walked into transition and handed them my chip and said, "Fuck Kentucky. Fuck Ironman."

But that never happened. I hauled ass in, averaging 16-17 mph on the last 20 miles, and they nodded at me all the way to the end, and shut down the bike course about 5 minutes after I arrived. As I ran through the "bike in" entrance a volunteer asked me, "can I take your bike?"

Fuck yeah, buddy. You can take my bike. Take it away. I don't ever want to see it again, or its evil seat. My right foot hurt like hell; for the past 30 miles my middle toe felt like someone was hitting it with a hammer; I don't know what that was all about. My feet were white on the bottom from having been in wet socks all day. My ass felt like I'd been spanked continuously for 9 hours. Which, of course, I had. I'd been spanked by Kentucky and it's "rolling hills."

Note to the viewer: do not put "sore butt" or "spanking" into the Google image search. Just. Don't.

later: The run, part 1 and the run, part 2 (and finish)