A little chat with reality

Or more like the first visit to the scale since Ironman. Hello. I could be carrying an infant! Jesus. So, I'm getting off my arse, realizing "walking to the train" (a mile, tops), and 3 days a week running to Robin Williams' and back (if I'm lucky) does not an exercise program make. (While I'm at it, I should probably also stop the "chocolate is an ok dinner" program.)

To really hone in on my "yes, I'm out of shape" point, I recently sent an email out to the 2006 Ironteam, to see if I could get anyone to rally for a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day (I couldn't). My friend Meghan replied, though, with an innocent "how's training going?" And I swear to god, I sat there for a few minutes, wondering... "training? what's she talking about?"

Oooh. Right. I'm signed up for another freaking Ironman.

The euphoria and inspiration of September were lost somewhere on the backroads of Europe. (Someplace in a bakery in Europe is more like it.)

I've been mulling over not doing the race: I've done two, it's a huge expense, and surely I have other things I could be doing with my life (err, I mean.... I should have other things...), and this time, the motivation's all on me. But then I go and watch that silly NBC production of Ironman Hawaii, and cry my eyes out for two hours, and remember why the sport is so amazing, and why the community of people who do this sport are unlike any other. Damn you, NBC.

So I look at my calendar, send in my money for spin sessions and for Boston training with the incomparable Michael McCormack, and think maybe there's worse ways to pass a life.

I have until July 15 to still get a partial refund (there better be a decision WAY before July 15, or I am supremely screwed). Til then, I am back on the bandwagon (in my own little way), visiting the weight room, recalling what it's like to run more than an hour, and contemplating pumping up my bike tires. The pool is going to have to wait. Spinning starts January 4. Boston training started yesterday. Sooner or later....I'll be back!

PS - before all you smartasses (you know who you are) send me emails about how I just ran a marathon, blah blah, yes, I know that. But the pants don't lie - and right now I wish they did!

Richmond Marathon in 79-degree heat

20 mile run, ends with court appearance

Well, shit.

I'm in Virginia, for a family reunion, departing for 12 days in Europe tomorrow. On the way home, I'll swing by Richmond and run a marathon, then fly back to California (in case you're wondering, this is as asinine in practice as it sounds). So today I had to run my 20 miles, and since 30 relatives had descended on our house, I got up at 6 to drive to Charlottesville to run with my friend Ryan. It was freezing, windy, and pouring rain - awesome! As I drove over Afton Mountain, I watched the sun rise and the sky clear.

I got to Ryan's house just before 8, to find the house a flurry of activity -- the baby had just woken up, and needed changing and feeding and other baby things I know little about. I drank some more coffee and hung out, and just before 9 Ryan and I took off to drive to Dick Woods Road (who IS Dick Woods?) and begin our run.

I pushed Max in the baby jogger (I don't know how people do this - I was about to have a heart and/or asthma attack after about 10 steps), and Ryan and I ran together for 4 miles. She then turned back, and I continued on, waving to the cows and having a grand old time. In my first loop, I did just over 11, then met Ryan back at the car to reload on water and stick the baby jogger into my rental SUV. She took off for home, and I set out for my final 8 miles. These. Sucked. Big. Time.

Bored to tears, alone, hip hurt, and it was WARM. I talked to cows and horses. I had set out in full tights and long sleeves, and by mile 6 I'd rolled my tights up to my knees and taken off my shirt (making sure to suck in my stomach every time a redneck in a truck or a yuppie in a Subaru drove by) - I am sure I looked ridiculous, but it was the best I could do. The last two miles were a little brutal, as I'd run out of water, and was hungry, and tired - but I knew I could hang in there for 16-17 minutes, and I did. 19 miles (incl 4 pushing the 25# load of baby!) in 3:01. Woo! I was relieved to have finished it all, and felt great.

Went back to Ryan's, where I inhaled half a can of pringles, took a shower, and stretched. I'll be back in two weeks to drive down to Richmond for the marathon. Then I set off for home.

The fun begins.

My parents live in rural Virginia. Lots of windy country roads. Fun to drive, especially in a nice, smooth rental car (it's probably a wreck, but when you're used to a '93 Honda, the Kia Sorrento kicks ass!), with country tunes cranking high. I was cruising along, nearing home, when all of a sudden I see a statie pass me going the other way. Uh oh. I glanced down at my spedometer, and in the rearview mirror, I see him doing a U-turn. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Yep. Although there was a car behind me doing the same speed, and we both pulled over, he motioned for the other girl to drive on. For a brief moment I contemplated a Dukes-of-Hazzard-like dervish getaway, but figured a) the Kia might fail me and b) this would probably be a worse idea than speeding in the first place.

I have never (ever!) been pulled over. So now I'm in Virginia in a rental car with Maryland plates and a California liscence. Awesome. I wondered if I should start crying BEFORE he got to me, or wait til he got to the window. I waited.

I don't remember exactly what transpired, but I was going 70 in a 55. Oops. He went back to his car for a loooong time, then came back and presented me with my ARREST page, and the date of my court appearance. Umm...I live in California. Court is in Virginia. (I'll actually be in VA on the date of the court appearance but I didn't say that). He didn't care. I asked for a warning, and instead I got a lecture (I'm still crying) about how many fatalaties have occured in this section of road. Um. I've got nothing for that, sir.

I took my little yellow piece of paper, and sheepishly drove away. I can pre-pay my fine for only $131 (sounds good to me) but will get points on my licence, so I will dutifully go show my face in court on Dec 21 and ask for traffic school so I don't get the points. Hopefully, I'll know the judge or know their kids from high school (though since my mom confirmed the judge I knew is actually dead, chances are slim). Excellent.

yes I signed up

no, I am not doing Ironteam.
and no, I am not training until after Boston is over in April.

and yes, I know I am out of my mind.

Woo!

Getting my masters @ Stanford

Well, not really. After a year and a half of thinking about it, I went to a Stanford Masters swim workout today. It wasn't as scary as I had anticipated. I emailed the coach ahead of time with some questions/concerns, and he was great. He even offered to come over to my building and walk me to the workout! (Of course when I tried to take him up on it, I found out he wouldn't actually *be* at the workout today. I went anyway.)

Humbling: I got put in the second to last lane. At least it wasn't the last lane. (At TNT swims, I'm in the second or third fastest lane. Quite a bit different competition!). The slower lanes got to do half the workout -- and since I've swum twice in 6 weeks, this was a good thing. Still, we did 2300 meters -- and it felt awesome to be back in the pool.

Here's a good way to see if anyone I know still reads this (Ryan, I know you do!):

I signed up for Ironman Canada 2007.

Sort of. After promising everyone I know (including myself) that I would take a year off from IM, this past weekend I found myself in Penticton, British Columbia, cheering on the rest of Ironteam. Next year is the 25th anniversary of Ironman Canada, so it's going to be a huge deal. I went there with zero intention of signing up. Then I found out that they're going to have a two-wave start -- and take anyone who was in Penticton this weekend. Coach Wayne did nothing short of jumping up and down and admonishing everyone - EVERYONE! - to sign up.

I still wasn't sold on the idea, but after spending 22 hours on Sunday out on the course, cheering, yelling, running, and chatting with the unbelieveable volunteers who make Canada so special, my my resolve began to crumble. This place is unlike anything you've ever experienced. The people are incredible. The volunteers make you believe that their sole purpose is to help you succeed. Penticton IS Ironman.

On Monday morning I walked to Ironman Village with some teammates as they went to pick up their race photos. While there, I ran into my mom's friend Les, who was again volunteering as a mechanic. Les told me I wouldn't even have to pay to register, and encouraged me to sign up. Just go, get a voucher, and then go online and pay within two weeks. Well. If I didn't have to pay on Monday...that's a different story, right? ( I promised to lock up my Visa card...but now I didn't need a Visa!)

I creeped over to the registration tent and knelt down so my head was parallel to the table. The volunteers offered me a chair, but I told them I was hiding from my friends, who would kill me if they saw me in the tent.

They gave me the form. I signed my name. They handed me the voucher with the secret code. I ran out of the tent. I began lying to teammates. All I have to do is log on to active.com, pay $490 (don't even go there!), and I'm official. I have until September 15.

But an Ironman with two waves? 4,000 people on the bike course? Penticton only has a population of 30,000 people -- where the hell is everyone going to sleep? I don't know. This next year my plan is to concentrate on swimming and biking (and yes, run Boston in April, so some running, too). I'm yet again pondering grad school, and the testing and application deadlines loom large.

So we'll see.

PS - at least one other teammate also broke her promise and has a voucher. We'll see which one of us cracks first (my money's on her. Reality might keep me out of it!)

Ironman USA race report - it's LONG!

Those of you who read my 2004 race report from Ironman Canada know that with pictures, it was 14 pages long. The events leading up to the start of Ironman USA were so absurd (and unanticipated) that it took me quite a few pages just to GET to Sunday. If you just want to read about the race, go to page 9. But believe me….you really won’t believe what the Ironteam went through unless you read it.

Ironman USA was unforgettable, and I was fortunate, lucky, and blessed with how my day unfolded. Going into Sunday I was nervous that nothing would ever live up to my experience in Penticton. I shouldn’t have worried. Once again, I can say that I wouldn’t change a thing.
When I finally got online Wednesday morning, I had 129 emails. Included among those were several more donations to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Together, we’ve raised $10,198. Thank you!!

If you just want the stats, they follow. If you want the whole experience, read the embarrassingly long and highly self-indulgent tome that is attached.

In 2004, I knew by mile 30 on the bike that I would do another Ironman. During the bike last Sunday, I found myself wondering the same, and unable to answer. On our second flight home Tuesday night, I sat across the aisle from a couple returning from Ironman Germany. Hearing their stories, and descriptions of the course, gave me my answer. I’ll take another year off – after all, I have a date with the Boston Marathon on April 16 – but I think I just might go to Frankfurt for Ironman Germany 2008.

Thanks for your unbelievable support, both of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and of my endeavors. I am truly one of the most fortunate and lucky people alive. For that, I have all of you to thank.
With love, Maureen

By the numbers:
Swim 2.4 miles: 1:19:02
Transition 1: 9:01
Bike 112 miles: 7:06:32
Transition 2: 4:26
Run 26.2 miles: 4:39:03
Total: 13:18:04

What I ate:
“Breakfast”: 2 soy butter and honey sandwiches on white bread, coffee with soy milk
Pre-Swim: ½ Orange Hammer Gel, 3 endurolytes Bike: 50 endurolytes, 175 ounces water, 1 Espresso Hammer Gel, 6 hours Perpetuem and Orange Hammer Gel mix, 10 Wheat Thins
Run: 15 endurolytes, no idea how much water, 4.5 Espresso and Raspberry Hammer Gels, 50 oz chicken broth, 24 oz orange Gatorade Endurance, 16 oz flat Coke, 3 pretzels (yes, I counted)
Total: 3,550 cal
What I burned: A lot more than I ate!!!

Thursday – cabs, planes, hotels, and one jalopy bus
Where do I begin?
When I said that “the hardest thing about Ironman is getting to the starting line,” I MEANT the training. I didn’t actually mean getting to the starting line. Apparently, someone had other ideas.
The alarm went off Thursday morning at 4:45, and I sprang into action, trying to accomplish two hours’ worth of activity in less than 45 minutes. The cab arrived at 5:30, and we took off to pick up Heather (en route, the cabbie asked me if I was traveling for business or pleasure; when I laughed that “pleasure isn’t quite what I’d call it” and explained the distances of the Ironman, he replied “do you really think you can do that?” Thanks, dude…thanks.).
As ordered, we arrived at SFO promptly at 6 a.m., where we were greeted by Maria and Joe, Raf, and Coach Alex, who had come to send us off. After a bit of waiting, we checked in, and I went in search of coffee and food. We boarded the plane (which had been a bit delayed) just before 8 a.m., and settled in. Soon after the last passenger boarded, the captain came on the PA. Due to severe storms, O’Hare had just been shut down, and we would all need to deplane. He didn’t have much info, but he thought we’d try to take off again about 10:45 a.m., three hours from now.

Um. Ok. We deplaned. Deep breaths. Remain calm. (Right. Actually, I called Rhian, hyperventilating and choking out somewhat hysterical sobs.) A three hour delay meant we would never make our connecting flight to Albany. The flights to Albany are tiny, and infrequent. What the hell were we going to do?

We sat huddled in a waiting area, and Kristy, our TNT manager, sprang into action. I called a few more people (namely my mom, for whom I alternately cried and yelled within a span of 5 minutes, my teammate Karen, who had wisely traveled ahead, and Rhian). Lesley, a teammate and honoree, stopped by, en route to a day of business in Los Angeles. Unbeknownst to most of us, she was planning to take the redeye Thursday night to surprise us Friday afternoon in Lake Placid. Little did I know how important her travel plans would become…

9:45 rolled around, and they began to make announcements about re-boarding. As I readied my things, Coach Tom made a comment that “we might not be getting on the plane after all.”
Um. Excuse me? Coach Tom was also planning to race on Sunday, so he had as vested an interest as anyone in getting to Lake Placid in a timely fashion. Apparently, our second flight (Chicago to Albany) had been cancelled, and the next flight they could offer to us was on Saturday. Saturday? As in the day before the race?

Ironman is such a complex event that you actually have to be there no less than two days in advance. You register (pick up your race numbers, get weighed, etc) on Friday, and check in your bike and your gear on Saturday. Add to this West-to-East jet lag, and you know that ARRIVING in Lake Placid on Saturday was simply not an option. Tom was calm, and said Kristy was “working on it.”

Indeed she was. Shortly thereafter, Kristy returned to the group, and informed us that we’d all been rebooked on a direct flight to JFK later that afternoon, that would get us into New York City (5+ hrs from Lake Placid) at 12:45 a.m. The good news: we were rebooked on a direct flight. The bad news: 1) The flight was not until 4 p.m. (it was now 10:00 a.m.) 2) The bus company wouldn’t let their drivers work overnight, so they would not pick us up at JFK until 6:30 a.m. Friday, meaning the EARLIEST we would arrive in Lake Placid was 1:30-2:00 p.m. Registration closed at 3 p.m. 3) (the real kicker), because THEY ARE A TERRIBLE AIRLINE AND YOU SHOULD NEVER, EVER FLY THEM, American Airlines refused to take all of our luggage off of our original flight to Chicago.. In theory, this meant our luggage would go on to Albany, where we would either pick it up, or, if Kristy could work yet another miracle, it would be delivered to us in Lake Plaid.

(Let’s take a minute and mull this over. 28 people. No longer on the airplane. At least 50 pieces of luggage, all on the airplane WITHOUT THEIR OWNERS. Hello, security? TSA? Anyone?)
So, there we sat, new boarding passes in hand. Kristy commented to me that “you’re much calmer than I would have expected” and I laughed, assuring her that though I was trying my best to be calm, I’d spent much of the past three hours freaking out on the phone to various friends and family. (I think she was glad she hadn’t entirely underestimated my reaction, and I was pleased with the compliment.)

With six hours to kill, some went home. Others headed for the bar, hoping to watch the replay of the morning’s incredible Tour de France stage. Laura, Rachel, Heather, Meighan and I decided to head for a hotel, in the hopes of getting some sleep. The Clarion Hotel sits nearest to SFO, right off the 101. I called reservations to book a room: the manager informed me that although the normal half-day rate was $59, they were fully booked that evening, so the cost would be $89. (I’m hoping they have the half-day rate for all the airline travelers….)

I’m not sure how we must have looked, 5 women in various stages of disarray, no luggage, staggering into the Clarion Hotel at 10:30 on a Thursday morning. In any event, I signed my life away, grabbed the keys, and asked for a wakeup call at 2:30 p.m.

I lay still for over two hours, no sleep in sight. Meanwhile three of the others snored, getting the sleep that so eluded me. I felt the full effects of a cold coming on (as though there weren’t enough going on, now I was going to get sick!). Heather was also stirring, unable to sleep, and finally we motioned to each other in the darkness to grab our bags and leave. We’d reconnect with the others back at the gate. On the shuttle back to SFO, I called John Grenham, who’d gone home for the interim. God love him, he agreed to stop by Walgreen’s on the way back, and picked up the Sudafed and Afrin which would be my saviors over the coming days.

During the hours that we remained stuck on the ground back in San Francisco, Kristy worked the phones, and came up with a bus company that would pick us up at 1 a.m. and drive us directly to Lake Placid, thus alleviating our 5 hour layover, and ensuring we would make it to
LP before registration closed. Stu, Izumi, Heather and I had already booked a hotel room at JFK, thinking 4 hours of sleep would be better than nothing, but we cancelled this once we learned of the new bus. Although sleep would have been preferable, a morning departure risked getting stuck in New York City rush hour, and any little mishap meant that we might miss our sign-in window. (I should also admit that at one point, I called my parents, who were midway through their drive from Virginia to Lake Placid and in all seriousness asked them to come pick me up at JFK – decidedly not “on the way.” Fortunately my sanity returned and I retracted my request before they had to tell me I was out of my mind and refuse.)

At 3:30 p.m., we finally boarded our flight to JFK. The flight itself was uneventful, and went fairly quickly. Two of our teammates were traveling with their wives and young sons (ages 23 months and 7 years), and those boys were the model of good behavior. They were so quiet I actually forgot they were on the plane! We lumbered in to JFK at 12:45 in the morning, and reconvened near the baggage claim (where of course, we had no baggage, but where Laura cut up the loaves of banana bread I’d made for her birthday and offered them out to the team. Yay Laura!).

Around 1:30 a.m., we walked out to board the bus. There are simply no words that can describe our bus. The photo will have to suffice.

The bus was large enough that we each had our own seat. I tied my sweater around my head to block out the light, turned on my iPod, and tried to sleep. Many events kept me from sound sleep, though I did manage to avoid directly witnessing some of the more scary ones. Among the “events”: a car fire with flames shooting over 20 feet into the air, our bus hitting two or three of those orange barrels that mark a construction zone, and poff to the side of the road, motor running, as the driver walked to the rear of the bus to relieve himself.

Just after 6 a.m., we pulled off of I-87 towards the Albany airport. As long as it was on the way, we might as well stop to pick up the luggage, right? We staggered off the bus, looking for the restrooms (although the driver had his own sense of course, we – the hydrating athletes of Ironteam – had been asked not to use the restroom on the bus). They were all out of order. OF COURSE they were out of order. Why wouldn’t they be? After some wandering, we found working restrooms, then reconvened by the luggage room, as an American Airlines attendant unlocked the door. He called out names from the tags, and teammates were happily reunited with their bags.

Soon, the room was empty. Coach Tom, Stu, John, Rommel, Cesar, and a few others – myself included – stood there, looking forlornly into the room, and at one another. Our bags weren’t there.

I walked back out to the bus, in a daze, and feeling much too tired to form tears. Of course our bags weren’t there. This wasn’t insane enough already, so now we were going to try every last ounce of sanity that any of us had. We re-boarded the bus, I tied my sweater back around my head, and off we went for the final 2 ½ hours.

At 8:40 a.m. Eastern on Friday morning, exactly 24 hours and 10 minutes (not counting the time change) after leaving my apartment, we arrived at the Comfort Inn Lake Placid. Our teammates who had so very, very wisely traveled separately – Bobbie, Larry, Judy, Paul, Lydia, Karen, and Coach Alex – all came to meet the bus and greeted the weary warriors as we staggered off.
We were here.

Friday, part 2
Since I had no luggage, hotel check-in was pretty quick. After some quick discussion, we decided it was best not to nap, and to instead power through the day. I borrowed some clothes from Lydia and Karen, and together the four of us set out to register, retrieve our bikes, and visit the expo. First stop: Starbucks.

The Ironman registration and expo was set up in the 1980 Olympic Speedskating Oval (this was pretty cool), so we walked in and began to browse around. First we flexed our muscles by the Ironman entrance, which would mark the entrance to the final point two miles of the race on Sunday.

We had to wait in a long line for registration, but because our numbers were high (all in the 2000s), after about ten minutes we were summoned to the front of a second line, and thankfully avoided most of the wait. We signed our lives away, promised we wouldn’t sue the Ironman North America organization if we died, and got weighed in (they weigh you ahead of time; so that if you end up in the medical tent after the Ironman, they can re-weigh you to see what percentage of your body weight you’ve lost). Then I was shepherded over to Betty, who was my registration volunteer. She laid out all of the bags and stickers and numbers I would need. I cried, then took a picture of Betty and went to activate my chip.

Laden with bags and promotional goodies, the four of us trudged up the hill to look for Tri Bike Transport and our bikes. I’d also sent a bag ahead, which contained all of my nutrition, as well as my wetsuit, bike shorts, bike shirt, and some water bottles. I’d already figured out that if for some reason my luggage didn’t show up from American (the only other time my luggage has been lost – also, I might add, by American – it took three days to show up), I’d just have to buy bike shoes, running shorts, and a sports bra to be able to race. My parents brought their bikes to Placid, so I planned to commandeer a helmet from my mom; my running shoes and goggles were in my carry-on. A bit convoluted, but it gave me peace to have a Plan B! Coach Alex met us at Tri Bike Transport and generously drove our bikes back to the hotel.

We left Tri Bike Transport, and went in search of some food. While we were eating, I saw my parents drive down Main Street, and felt relieved they had made it to town (I needed that helmet!). Just after lunch ended, Judy called, with the news I had been waiting for: Honoree Lesley had made it to Albany, and all of the missing bags were now there. She had to rent a larger SUV to fit all the bags in, but she was on her way to Lake Placid, and ought to be there by mid-afternoon. Hooray! At long last, this was all starting to come together.

We were scheduled for a team swim in the early afternoon, but the four of us decided our time would be better spent driving the bike course. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have been that concerned, but Placid is a two-loop bike, and notoriously difficult. I’d read enough in the weeks preceding the race to know that going out too hard on Lap 1 could add costly amounts of time and pain during Lap 2. I didn’t want that to happen. We spent the next hour driving the course, noting with glee the screaming downhills and with caution the upward climbs. The most significant climbing occurs in the last ten miles of each loop, and I’d read that even if you paced appropriately, they would be “unpleasant.”

We got back just in time for the team photo, and my parents unveiled their piece de résistance – a huge “Go Ironteam” sign listing all of our names. We then drove over to the Horse Grounds, where the Ironman Pasta Dinner was being held.

I don’t have too many pre-race routines, but I am incredibly finicky about my diet. With four days to go, I eschew all dairy and almost all fiber, and I plot every morsel that I take in, all to minimize GI troubles on race day. Over 7 marathons, 5 half ironmans, and Ironman Canada, this plan has never failed me, so I am fanatical about sticking to it. So when we walked into the big tent, and I found that everything they offered had dairy in it, I started to cry. By this point we’d been awake for 34 hours, and on the day that most impacted my performance on Sunday, I had nothing to eat for dinner (For a Sunday race, Friday is the most important day for both sleep and eating). We sat down at one of the long tables, and Steven commented that I was a “petite eater” because my plate contained two rolls and a small piece of chicken (on the bone, which I also hate). This made me cry some more, and I put on my sunglasses to try to hide it (yes, I cried about pasta….I’m not proud of it, but it happened!). Midway through dinner I motioned to my parents that I wanted to leave, and we snuck out, stopped by the grocery store, and purchased some turkey to make a sandwich (because of course they did not make sandwiches there).

Friday ended with Coach Tom leading a relaxation session. By that point, we had been awake for 38 hours straight. Frankly, I think I could have slept in the middle of a Los Angeles freeway at rush hour, but the session helped calm my mind. I returned to the room, popped a Lunesta (god love Lunesta!) and passed out.

Saturday – final checks and calming the nerves
We awoke early, knowing we had much to do before noon. Many of the tasks that should have been taken care of on Friday were pushed into Saturday, so every minute was scheduled and important. First up: breakfast, then a bike ride.

Laura, Heather and I assembled our bikes and took off on a short 5 mile ride. I put on new tires just before we shipped the bikes, and I was a little nervous that I didn’t have enough mileage on them (I would have preferred to have about 50 miles, and I had just over 20). As we rode, a slight rain fell, and the sky glowered ominously.

We returned to the room, and began to pack our bags. Our T1 (swim to bike) and T2 (bike to run) bags had to be turned in, along with our bikes, by noon. Although we would have access to our bags on Sunday morning, we had to get as much ready as possible today. After multiple checks and re-checks of the contents, and intense discussion over the merits of the run skirt vs. spandex, at 10 a.m. we were ready. My mom loaded the bikes onto her car, and drove both of us down to transition. I stopped by Inside Out Sports for a final check on my bike – my mom’s bike mechanic from Harrisonburg was the lead technician for the race, and I wanted his final blessing on my stead. I had to wait in a separate line to see Les, but it gave me peace of mind to have him look it over, adjust the brakes, and pronounce it “perfect.”

We racked our bikes, then proceeded to the area where we’d leave our bags. As we did, a steady rain began to fall. We struggled to close the bags, knowing there was little hope the contents would remain dry until tomorrow. But what could we do? Every minute until now had been forced moments of Zen. It is what it is. There was nothing we could do but relax.
The afternoon flew by: our TNT luncheon consisted of bad pasta, a slideshow of the season, and the opportunity to speak. Many of my teammates shared what the season had meant to them, and the challenges they’d overcome tthe season. I knew I couldnever recreate the impromptu speech I gave in Canada two years ago, describing my dad first becoming sick when I was six, and what it meant for our family, but I tried to give a shortened version (and told my parents to think bacto the Canada speech and remember it). After lunch, my mom drove Heather and me arounthe run course, and then to our massage appointments. The rain pelted down without remorsesoaking us. I shuddered to think of my transition bags.

Dinnertime came, and we found a gourmet sandwich shop, and brought sandwiches back to our room. We finished eating by 5:30, and spent the next two plus hours preparing our nutrition and special needs bags for race day – we would bring these items down with us in the morning. Coach Tom led another relaxation session, and we went over all the last minute items (morning schedule, shuttle departure, etc.) My college friend Ryan and her husband Jack arrived while we were “relaxing” and I went to their room, eager to meet their son Max for the first time.
We were in bed by 9:30, and (thanks again to Lunesta), asleep by 10. Ready or not…it was almost here.

Sunday – finally!
The alarm went off at 3:50 a.m. Heather and I bounded out of bed, and sprung into action. Coffee pot on, start stuffing my face. On “ordinary” long workout mornings, I eat a soy butter and honey sandwich (almost as gross as it sounds). Today I wanted to maximize my caloric intake, so I ate two. They were tough to get down, but I ate as much as I could, and washed it down with water and two small cups of coffee. I knew I wouldn’t have a real meal again until after I was through. We turned on the TV – “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” – and stretched, preparing for the day ahead.

Coaches Mike and Alex started the first shuttle down at 4:45 a.m., and Heather and I were ready and waiting. We joined Rommel, Coach Tom, Lorraine, and Susan, and crowded in to Alex’s rental SUV. The rain continued, and I passed out the garbage bags my mom had purchased for makeshift ponchos. Alex drove us as far as he could, then sent us on our way. The rain had stopped, and the sky looked hopeful.

Though we had over two hours before the start, time passed quickly. Transition opened at 5, and we joined a line of folks waiting to get in. First stop: our bikes, where we added our nutrition. We pulled off the plastic bags that had covered the seats and the drivetrain, and found an Inside Out volunteer to pump up the tires. That covered, we headed to the T1/T2 bags, to add the rest of the contents. From there, we were bodymarked (arms, calves, thighs, and hands – most of this would be washed off by the end of the swim), then walked the ¼ mile up the road to Special Needs. We dropped our Special Needs Bike and Special Needs Run gear, both of which would be available to us at the midway point of the bike and the run.

A short wait in the port-a-potty line, and all that was left to do was put on our wetsuits and wait. We dropped our “dry clothes” bag (I’d double bagged this, praying that some of it might actually still be dry by the time I crossed the finish line), and began the walk to Mirror Lake. As soon as we saw our cheering contingent – Lesley, Paul, Bobbie, Richard, Coaches Monica, Alex, and Mike – I began to sob. I’m not sure why, as I wasn’t terribly afraid, or worried. But try as I might, I couldn’t stop sobbing.

We walked down to the shore, and I searched frantically for Stu. He and I swim exactly the same pace, and had spent the season swimming together. Swimming with Stu made me feel safe, and I was beside myself that I couldn’t find him. I quizzed Judy and Katie about their predicted swim times, and decided I would start with Judy as a good alternative (motherly and protective, she also made me feel safe). We swam a short warmup, tested our goggles, and reconvened, treading water as we watched the clock count down.

Less than two minutes before the cannon, the sea of people parted (this sounds dramatic, but I swear I am not making this up), and there, waving closer to the shore, was Stu. I swam/ran back to shore, relieved beyond words to have found him. We hugged, and I cried. He told me of his special finish line plans for Izumi, and I shrieked with excitement and joy. We waded a little further out into the sea of people, finding our space amongst the masses. The announcer queued up U2’s “Beautiful Day.” The countdown continued. The cannon blew. It was here.

The Swim – 2.4 miles
The start of an Ironman swim can only be described as chaotic (if you really want to see it, go see the video on my website – it’s insane). Arms, legs, limbs – all everywhere. The start at Placid is made somewhat worse by the knowledge that there is a cable underwater that connects all of the buoys. If you can get to the cable, you don’t have to sight, thus saving valuable time. Everyone wants to get to that cable! Coach Wayne had suggested that we all swim on the inside of the cable (legal, but most don’t know this), and then cross the cable to go around the turns. My predicted swim time of 1:15-1:20 meant that I would be in the “washing machine” for the entire time (the majority of swimmers swim between 1:10 and 1:25), and swimming on the inside was a way of potentially finding some calm.

I saw Stu for about ten strokes, then lost him as I crossed over people trying to get to the inside. Stroke, stroke, smack. I was punched, and I punched. I was kicked, and I kicked. Violent at best, I searched for some clear water, knowing I didn’t want to get too far away from the fray, lest I lose the momentum of the draft. The swim at Placid is two loops of 1.2 miles each, with a short beach run in between. The first loop continued uneventfully, and I got out of the water and onto the beach at 39 minutes.

As I ran back into the water, I mulled my time. 39 minutes was a little slower than I’d hoped, though not by much. I was a bit disappointed, but I felt calm, and comfortable. 140.6 miles is a long way. As I began the second lap, I made the conscious decision that I would continue swimming the same speed, knowing that although it felt “slow,” I would likely be out of the water in no longer than 1:20. In the scheme of the day, working hard to gain 3-4 minutes just didn’t make sense. I plodded along, swimming and fighting, glancing at the sky and noting it might be a clear day after all (we later found out the minute the cannon sounded, the sky opened and it began to pour. We had no idea.) Near the end, I got socked in the right jaw, and though it smarted, I laughed as I looked at the body next to me and guessed it might be my teammate Derek.

I was out of the water with 1:18 and some change on the clock, and crossed the mat at 1:19:03. Now the fun began!

T1
As soon as I ran out of the water, the screams were all around me. I struggled to find the zipper on my wetsuit, pull it down, and find the first available “stripper.” To my delight, the first stripper I saw was Marc Lauzon, an Ironteam alum and the guy who drove our bikes cross-country on Tri Bike Transport. I yelled “Oh my gosh! Hi! I know you!” and threw myself down on the ground for him to rip off my suit. Suit off, he helped me back up, and I began the long run back to the transition tents. I saw my parents, and waved. Once in transition, I found and grabbed my bag, and went into the women’s change tent.

Now in Canada, I didn’t have to do anything, so my expectations for the change tent were pretty high. I ran into the tent, and looked around with dismay. It was crowded and chaotic. To make matters worse, it was pitch black, and there were no free chairs. I found a spot near a table, dumped out my bag, and realized my bike shorts (and the rest of the contents) were soaking wet. I wrung out the bikes shorts, slapped on some Assos (non-bikers: this is chamois cream, not whatever else you might have imagined), and exchanged my bikini bottoms for the shorts. I struggled into my shirt, then added my gloves, helmet, socks and shoes. I paused to consider whether I should bring my arm/knee warmers or a vest (the rain that began during the swim continued), realized I couldn’t make a decision, and ran out of the tent. As I ran, I heard a volunteer yell my number, so when I rounded the corner, another volunteer had my bike ready and waiting.

I grabbed Sammy (the bike) and ran towards the timing mat.

The Bike – 112 miles
The first mile of the bike included several technical turns (a 180 out of transition, plus a hard 90 degrees onto a new road) and the organizers had warned us to take these turns with extreme caution. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, the turns were banked by bales of hay to cushion our falls. I shuddered and took the turns gingerly, feathering my brakes and hoping the rain would cease before I got to the steep 6-mile downhill into Keane (although I’ve come a long way with my cycling skills, screaming downhill without brakes is not on my list of things to do). After a few minutes I caught up to Judy: she was the first teammate I’d seen since the swim began, and I was thrilled. I told her about Derek punching me, and we exchanged swim stories. I rode on, and after 15 or 20 minutes, when my heartrate had calmed, took in my first Hammer Gel of the day.

The bike continued, and soon the rain began to cease. The steep downhill began, and I was pleased to see that my brakes worked if I needed them. A woman in front of me took the entire lane, and was riding so unsteadily I was afraid to pass her, for fear she’d ride into me; I was also afraid to follow her, as her unpredictability kept forcing me to use my brakes. Even so, I cruised just under 40 miles an hour, and I made the turn into Jay feeling fresh.

Most of Loop 1 is a blur. I ate, drank, and took Endurolytes on prescribed intervals. I watched my speed, knowing I wanted to come in about 3:30-3:40. I kept repeating our coaches’ mantas, from “this course rewards patience,” (Wayne), to “swim smooth, bike smart, run strong” (Tom). I took in the incredible views, remembering Wayne’s additional warning that if “you’re not enjoying the scenery, you’re going too hard.”

I got to the 14 mile out-and-back, and settled in to my aerobars. It was a blast – as I rode out, back came the superstar swimmers – John,Tom, Heather, Susan, and Kelly. They were all flying! Meighan and I jockeyed back and forth for miles, and I was glad for her company. Just before the turnaround, Derek passed us and said he’d heard I was spreading rumors about him decking me. I laughed, and said “well, wasn’t it you?” He assured me it wasn’t. As I turned around and headed back, I saw Lydia, Steven, Katie and Stu soon behind me. We came out of the out-and-back, and headed for the hills – this would be the true test, as the most difficult climbing arrives in the last ten miles of each loop.

The hills weren’t as bad as I feared (even though we’d driven the course, I knew it would be worse on the bike than in the car); I kept my heart rate down, and powered up the hills. Fortunately, I love to climb, so this course was tailor-made for me. Around mile 50, I stopped to pee, and as I climbed back on my bike, I heard a woman scream “Atkins? Mo! Is that you?!!!!” I could see her name (during the bike you wear your name on your back) and realized it was Julie, my cousin Peter’s co-worker whom I had never met, but who I knew was also racing. I hammered to catch up with her, and we laughed at our good fortune for connecting mid-race.

The worst climb - a long 7% grade - came just before a 90 degree right-hand turn back into town, and as I reached the bottom of that hill, I could see it was lined with spectators all the way to the top. My heart surged, knowing I was almost there. Laura’s friend Rachelle and Judy’s Paul cheered me on, and snapped pictures as I made the climb. I cruised into town, and stopped at Special Needs, replenishing my Perpetuem and grabbing some Wheat Thins (I grabbed so many that as I shoved them in my mouth, I cut open the roof of my mouth. Five days later, I am still in incredible pain!). Unfortunately, Special Needs didn’t have any water, and I snapped at the volunteer for not having any. As I rode away, I cursed myself for being one of “those” athletes, who yelled at the volunteers. Who did I think I was? I climbed the last hill to the end of the first loop, and crossed the mat right at 3:30 (5:00 into the race). I was right on time.

I spent much of the second loop jockeying back and forth with Julie. I called out for water at the first aid station, only to have them tell me they were a run station, not a bike, and I would have to continue on. Annoyed, I kept riding. I finally arrived at the bike station, where an idiot guy just about took me out with his bike as he departed. Replenished, I took off again, trying to catch up to Julie (you can’t get too close, lest you get penalized – for this race they told us we needed to stay at least 4 bike lengths apart. However, marshals are a little more lenient on the climbs, and with over 8,500 feet of climbing in 112 miles, there were many climbs!). Every time I accelerated, the guy accelerated back and passed me. (In a race of over 2,200, less than 600 were women. Apparently someone had an issue with a chick wearing a camelback passing him.) After 15 or 20 minutes of this, I laughed out loud and said some things I won’t write here when I saw a marshal ride up and give the guy a red penalty flag. Take that, sucker! A few miles later I laughed some more (though resisted pointing) as I passed him in the penalty box, waiting out his time.

As the loop continued, my muscles started to fatigue, which caused me to panic. Had I gone too fast on the first loop? What could I do now? Why did my stomach hurt? How were my teammates doing? To my dismay, I also spent the entire loop with the Nelly song “Ride Wit Me” stuck in my head. Try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything else to sing. (Why this song???? Am I a big Nelly fan???? Last time it was “Let’s Get Physical” by Olivia Newton-John. Frankly, I am not sure which was worse). Julie pleaded with me not to tell her the song.

When my legs hurt, I spun lightly. I recalculated my caloric intake for Loop 1, and realized I might have overloaded. I backed off on my food, and tried to stay on top of my fluids and endurolytes. As we reached the long out and back once again, I got aero and looked out for my teammates. They were a little more spread out, but I still saw Derek, Teryk, Kelly, and Heather go by ahead of me, all looking strong. We waved and cheered as we passed one another, and I felt so glad to be part of a team.

As we turned for the final hills, I prayed that my legs would continue to hold. I’d calculated I was more than a half an hour behind schedule, then suddenly realized I’d added wrong. I remained right on schedule, and my consistency gave me a lift. I continued to drink, and stopped by my friends at Mile 50 (100 this time) to use the bathroom once again. The sun had come out, and I was sweating and drinking a lot. I took use of my GI meds and hoped my stomach would recover before the marathon. Julie passed me for the last time, and I knew I wouldn’t see her again for a while.

The last hills were tough, but I knew they were the gateway into town, and the run. The streets were jammed with fans, hooting and hollering and banging whatever they could find. I rounded the last corner up the hill to the line (praying I wouldn’t crash in front of all those people as I took the turn a little too quickly), and saw Coach Alex, Bobbie, and Lorraine as I climbed. I crossed the mat, and hopped off. Someone took my bike, and I waddled on my stiff-soled shoes back towards the bags. It was time for the run.

T2
As in T1, my hopes of being catered to were dashed the minute I entered the tent. This time I found a seat, but I was wary of sitting down, fearing I wouldn’t be able to get up again. I changed my shorts, shirt, and socks, then slid on my shoes. I looked at my Body Glide, couldn’t figure out why I would have put that in the bag, grabbed my hat and race belt and ran out onto the course.

The run – 26.2 miles
As I took the first steps of what would be my ninth (counting Canada) marathon, I looked around. The sun was high and bright, and people were streaming in both directions. While I was in T2, I’d heard the first and second men cross the finish line (ironically, one of these men was Tom Evans, who won Ironman Canada in 2004. That year, I was also in T2 when he crossed the line. At least we’re consistent!). During the latter part of the bike, my lungs had begun to seize up, and I struggled to control my breathing. Although I carried an inhaler with me on the bike, I’ve never managed to use it while riding (too much coordination), and I didn’t want to risk crashing, nor did I want to pull over and stop for a sixth time. I promised myself “just get to the run.” Like a long-awaited treat, during the first mile I pulled out my inhaler and took a deep breath. Ahh.

The first miles of the run parallel the bike, so the terrain was familiar (it just passes much more quickly on the bike). After 2-3 miles, we passed the Horse Grounds, and I passed the spot where my parents had been staked out all day. They asked how it was going, and tired of faking enthusiasm, I muttered, “this sucks” and continued on. I immediately felt badly for being so honest, and realized I should have lied; I didn’t want them to worry about me. (Sorry, Mom!)

After a long downhill, the run course takes a sharp right-hand turn and begins a long 8 mile out-and-back. I knew it would be a long stretch, but I was also excited, as I knew I would encounter my faster teammates along this same span. One by one, I watched the Johns, Teryk, Kelly, and Cesar pass by. I plodded along, hoping to see Heather, and hoping I’d find someone to run with (at Canada I had the good fortune to meet someone at mile 2; Shanon and I ran the entire marathon together.) Each time I’d come upon someone at USA, I’d think “will this be my Shanon?” Alas, there was no Shanon, and I ran the entire thing alone.

I finally caught up to Heather at Mile 9, where she was doing the Determined New Yorker Power Walk, clipping along at a blistering pace. We walked together for a bit, and she told me that Kelly was not too far ahead. In my mind, I thought if I could just catch up to Kelly, SHE would be my Shanon, and I knew she would push me to the end. As I neared the end of the big out-and-back, I saw Coach Mike, who shouted and cheered, and ran along beside me for a while.

I headed back into town, with my eyes out for my other teammates heading back for their second loop, or beginning of their first. One by one I ticked them off, and mile by mile I clicked off. I hurt, but nothing too badly, and I looked forward to the aid stations every mile as a break to walk. Uthe mile markers weren’t exactly synced up with the aid stations, so most of the time I had no idea where I was.

As you head back into the heart of Lake Placid, you run straight up a hill. A mile before the bottom of the hill, I neared a woman with a bright green shirt and black shorts, wearing a fuel belt. Kelly! My heart lept and I picked up the pace, delighted beyond words that I had finally found her. As I neared the hill, my heart sank, as I realized it wasn’t Kelly at all, but a woman wearing a very similar shirt (this other team caused lots of confusion all day for both Ironteam and our spectators alike, but we all cheered for one another).

As planned, I walked up the hill, then rounded the corner into town. The crowds cheered when I began running again, and I felt like Rocky as I made my way towards the center of town and the shorter out-and-back. As I began the new out-and-back, I passed TNT Central at “Hot Corner” – Coach Monica, Heather’s family, Lydia’s mom and sister. It was all a blur. As I left Hot Corner and headed into the neighborhood, I heard one more scream for “Mo!” and turned back to see Ryan, holding Baby Max and smiling. Next to them was Jack, with the largest camera lens (about 2 feet long) I have ever seen in my entire life. I waved, and continued.

I kept plodding, and soon I reached Special Needs. I’d planned to exchange my hat for a visor, but the sun was still hot, and I wanted to keep my head covered. I grabbed some more gels, and additional endurolytes, and then went on my way. As I neared the turnaround I saw Coach Tom heading back the other way, who told me he “expected me to catch him in the next two miles.” Since Kelly was nowhere to be seen, I set my sights on Tom. Soon I reached the turnaround, and I headed back towards town and the cheering fans.

Someone had warned me that the hardest part of the run was when you neared the section where the finishers veered to the right for their last point two miles, and the rest veered to the left to begin the second loop. I made sure to get as far left as possible to avoid the confusion (and the temptation). Next to me, a man nearing the end of his race staggered, then slowly fell to the ground. I felt badly, but averted my eyes, scooted even further to the left, and continued running (what was that psychology experiment where the lady screamed and no one bothered to help? This came to mind, but I reasoned/hoped he was close enough to the end – or at least close enough to the TNT contingent – that someone would come to his aid. At least this is what I told myself…)

I waved to the TNT clan, then headed out for Loop 2. 13.1 down, on1y 13.1 to go! As I ran downhill and out of town, I saw my mom on her bike, and yelled out to see if she’d taken care of getting my bike (in the midst of all this, our bikes had to be taken out of transition and back to Tri Bike Transport before 10 p.m.). She assured me she was on it. Somewhere around mile 15, I finally caught back up to Julie, who had dusted me at the end of the bike. We laughed at our similar times, and wondered if we were destined to finish the race together.

As I entered the long out-and-back for the second time, I realized I hadn’t yet seen Izumi. When I reached Coach Mike, I asked about her, and was crushed to hear she had missed the bike cut-off by 2 minutes. I paused and said “you’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding” as Mike assured me he would never kid about that. Crushed, I continued on, angry at the rules, and worrying about our friend. Two minutes was nothing – that was me stopping to adjust my shirt, or eating, or using the inhaler. In the span of 17 hours (1020 minutes), what was two?

The second loop seemed longer, and as the sun began to set, out came the bugs. I’d forgotten to use my bug spray wipes at special needs, and I swatted at the gnats and mosquitoes as I ran. The two Johns and Teryk passed, all looking incredibly strong. Up ahead, I saw Coach Tom duck into a port-a-potty. It’d taken me three miles instead of two, but I caught him! Still not wanting to stop, I yelled “Happy Birthday, Tom!” at the port-a-potty as I passed.

At mile 16, I began drinking flat coke, excited for the change of pace, and happy I’d waited so long for the treat (pathetic as it sounds, it was something to look forward to, and it made the miles pass.) I asked every volunteer I saw “how much longer til the turnaround?” and no one knew, which annoyed me to no end. Finally, a woman on a bike told me it was three more miles. Well, lady. I knew this was wrong, as I’d been on the out-and-back for at least twenty minutes, and the entire length of it was only four miles. I told her as much, and she shrugged. Sure enough, less than 10 minutes later, I came to the turnaround (Thank God!). I passed her soon after, and said “see, I told you you were wrong!” Magnanimity after 134 miles is not my strong suit.

The end was near – just back into town, the little out-and-back, and I was done. My teammates continued plodding along the other side, and as they passed, I gave each a smile, a wave, and thumbs up, and ran to the center of the road to meet their hands. The first loop I’d hooted and hollered and screamed at the top of my lungs for everyone I knew. Though my screaming was gone, my enthusiasm was not; I was preserving every ounce of energy I had left.

I followed much of the same pattern I honly as I stopped walking the aid stations when it began to hurt too As I passed through each station I called out for what I needed, namely “coke” and “chicken broth,” and alternately grabbing cold sponges and GatoradeAs I climbed the last big hill into town I noticed the street lights were beginning to come on, and I smiled at all of the supporters who were cheering my name. As I neared the turn to begin the final out-and-back I saw Ryan, and threw hemy nasty hat (taking a cue from Karen, I intended to look better at this finish linethan I did at Canada). She looked with disgust at the thing, and I apologized for giving it to her.

I readjusted my sunglasses onto my head, and made the turn. I was all smiles as I passed the TNT contingent. I was gonna do this thing! I tried (in vain) to pick up my pace, and I trotted along. I passed Special Needs again, and smiling and holding up two fingers when they asked me if it was my first or second lap. Up ahead, I saw Laura, who was nearing the turn-around for her first loop. I called out her name and slapped her a high-five. She was gonna do this thing, too! We cheered and celebrated, and I promised to see her at the finish.

I made the final turn, and headed home. 13 hours had passed, and the minutes ticked by. The tears started to run down my face, and I didn’t care. In my wildest dreams, I had hoped I might equal my Canada time, thinking that experience might help cancel out a more difficult course. I was going to beat it by a mile. I passed the TNT corner one last time, and slapped hands with Lesley and Izumi and Coach Monica as I passed.

I crossed the timing mat for 26 miles, and ran onto the track for the last point two. The crowd roared. Van Halen’s “Right Now” screamed loudly on the PA. I felt like a rockstar, invincible, and made of iron.

I rounded the final corner, wiped my tears, threw up my arms, and ran into the lights.


Second time done..... and not a bit less sweet. Thanks for reading.

oh, duh - I did it!!!

I suppose while I am trying to figure out how the heck to compress and post my gigantic race report I could post a picture that proves I did it....

Laura, Skeeter and Alex rock my world!!!

Two donations in under five minutes....so you three will share the glory! Thanks for helping me reach $10,000!!!!!

I'm alive

Sleeping 14 hrs a day, but alive.... and only $2 more to go to beat $10,000! Anyone have $2???

Thanks for the many well wishes. My race report is forthcoming - we had such an ordeal actually getting to Lake Placid that the race actually somewhat paled in comparison (though not by much).

In the meantime, here's a view of the swim start. Pretty freaking scary:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0EvDH76zZc

But actually much less scary to be in it than to watch it!

IronMo Update #7 - The Race is On

It's here! After many months of training, this Sunday I’ll toe the line at Ironman USA. Since I began my journey towards my second Ironman last October, I’ve swum over 130,000 yards, ridden my bike 1,600 miles, and run over 800. I’ve lifted weights for 50 hours. I’ve run one marathon in New York City and another in Napa County. I’ve eaten more than I care to recount, and cried more often than I ought to admit.

Tough? Try lucky.

During that same time, over 95,000 people in the United States have been diagnosed with a blood-related cancer. Almost half that amount has died. Someone loses their battle with a blood-related cancer every 9 minutes. Our team of 65 athletes has raised over half a million dollars (last count, $537,000) towards finding a cure.

Through your generosity, you have helped me raise $9,533 of the team’s total. For that, I continue to be grateful and inspired. Thank you.

On Thursday, a third of Ironteam (the rest will do Ironman Canada next month) will fly to Albany, NY, and then drive a few more hours northward to Lake Placid. Sunday will be here before we know it. (If you want to follow the race, I’ve included my race number and directions at the bottom of this email.)

The irony – and the great equalizer – of Ironman is that no matter how much training and preparation you put in ahead of time, anything can happen on race day. The weather, mechanical issues, hydration, nutrition and all-out GI failures – anything can happen. It can be anyone’s day, and even if it’s not your day, you still have the power to recover, make the best of it and move forward towards that finish line. The beauty of it is: 17 hours is a long time. As long as you keep moving forward, the finish line can still be yours. Ironman’s motto, “Anything is Possible,” is a lot like a Nike commercial – cheeky and motivating. It’s also entirely appropriate: Anything is possible.

Getting to the start of this second Ironman has been infinitely more difficult than the first (never underestimate the power of fear as a motivator!), but it has been no less rewarding. A friend once told me that the hardest part about Ironman was not the event itself, but rather making it to the starting line. She’s right. With your help and support, I’ve made it to the line again. Now it’s time for the party!

Thank you for your belief in me, and your continued support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I could not have done this without you.

- Ironman USA begins at 7:00 a.m. Eastern on Sunday, 7/23. The deadline to finish is midnight.
- My race number is 2090
- To track me live on race day, visit http://www.ironmanlive.com/. Select “Athlete Tracker” and search for me by name or number.
- Once finishers start to come in there will be also be a link to a live webcam of the finish line. It’s just like watching TV, only cooler. If you want to sit there for a few hours, you can watch me cross the line
- My best guesstimates for my time– should nothing go wrong (all times in hours):
Swim 2.4 miles: 1:15-1:20
Bike 112 miles: 7:00-7:30
Run 26.2 miles: anybody’s guess….but it WON’T be 3:40, I’ll tell you that much
- For the love of God -- will someone please TiVo the Tour de France for me???

Just $692 more to reach $10,000

Don't you want to help raise $10,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? Our team has now crossed $537,000 - unbelievable. This is real money, doing real things in the fight for a cure. To help, click the "donate now" button on the right.

Shameless self-promotion: 8 teammates have raised over $10,000. Please help me be the 9th!

Weekend workouts were interesting. Saturday, we had to ride 60-90 minutes and then run 30. I hate (despise, detest, fear, curse) riding alone. I happen to still have my old bike (Tom), who is too small for me, and will be put up for sale in August. However, most of my teammates are without their bikes, leaving me....alone. How much do I hate it? I put on my biking clothes at 11:00 a.m. I left the house at 4:30 p.m.

I should have gone earlier, of course, because once I was out there (and it was fine), I was in the path of every godforsaken, well-meaning, unsuspecting tourist and yahoo in Golden Gate Park. So much that I feared for my life, thinking how one car door opening, or one pedestrian not looking or one vehicle speeding would end my ten months of training. (also I have not touched this bike in a few months, so it creaked and groaned and squealed...not very pleasant). At 45 minutes, I abandoned ship for my sanity, and cycled home, then went out on the run.

Sunday we had our annual "run to Louie" and visited Louie's gravesite. Louie is buried in Los Altos, so we met at a school and then ran the 2 miles to his headstone. For the next 90 minutes, we shared stories of Louie, and each of our own stories - why we were doing this, and who inspired and motivated us.

Four of our teammates did Ironman Austria on Sunday, and while the run kept me from watching three of them, I had the awesome chance to watch Susan finish live. It was incredible to be sitting at my kitchen table in San Francisco, and watching her finish 7,000 miles away in Klagenfurt, Austria. I screamed and hooted and jumped up and down - just awesome

I hate taper

In theory, taper is great. In reality, it is awful.

You're not working out so much, so you have time. But you can't go out and do anything, for fear of getting sick, injured, or too tired (not to mention you're not drinking, and are watching what you eat. That's fun for everyone.). Your workouts are short, but you feel terrible during them, because your muscles are accustomed to working out for 2-3 or more hours, not 40 or 50 minutes. I am so ready for this to be over!

Mon 7/10- off (I think. Monday was a long time ago. This is entirely suspect.)

Tues 7/11 - stretch at lunch, swim 1,500 yards. Also supposed to ride 30 miles. Well, let's see. I can't workout before work, since I leave the house at 7 a.m. I can't workout for three hours during work, because I'd get fired. And we have an Ironteam meeting ABOUT Ironman at 6:30 p.m., which means I can do this three hour weekday workout...oh. Right. I can't. So I did what I could, and marveled how much more comfortable training would have been without a job and a commute (and an income...which means I couldn't have done it in the first place. Touche.)

Weds 7/12 - stretch/yoga at lunch, track at Kezar. Workout is 9 miles. Here I am complaining about not working out, but 9 miles on a track? I don't think so. Run 6 and call it a night.

Thurs 7/13 - stretch at lunch; after work, go to spinning. Supposed to swim 1,500; will do this on weekend. Spinning is not on the schedule, but I skipped the ride on Tuesday, and this is the last spin class of the series I can attend (next week we'll already be in NY, and there's no way I'm going to class 4 days after the IM) . M2 tells me taper is overrated, and do the full workout. I believe him. Yeah! Feel great.

Fri 7/14 - Run 4 1/2 miles in morning - out to Robin Williams' and back. Ponder important thoughts, such as: Is he in France? Will he go to the Tour without Lance? Has OLN's viewership dropped because there's no Lance, or because there's no Basso/Ullrich/Mancebo/Vino? Or because Bob Roll and Al Trautwig make you want to poke your eyes out? Thank god my early mornings allow me to watch Paul Sherwen and Phil Liggett!

Pleased to see my "easy" run is holding an 8:20/mile. I just want to do 10s at IM, so this is good! After work, easy swim in Stanford pool - 1,100 m. Took longer to get to pool, change, and get dressed afterwards than it did to do the workout. But I'm glad I did it.

Saying goodbye to Sammy

Who is Sammy? I've been riding a nameless bike for over two months. The too-small new road bike from March was going to be named Robbie, but I had to give him back. Last night, I was at Sports Basement to say goodbye to my new new road bike, as we handed them over to Tri Bike Transport for (duh) transport to NY. I couldn't say goodbye to a bike with no name - that just didn't seem right. Where are my loyalties?

But you can't name a bike on command. I mean, I've put well over 800 miles on this thing in just a few months, and it hadn't come to me yet. Fortunately, just as I was about to say goodbye, I ran into my '04 teammate Peter, who convinced me that the bike was actually a girl. (thus, my issue- I've been focused on boy names). We ran through several options I now can't recall (love has blinded me), and then....there it was. Sammy. I knew it immediately. I had a dear friend in college named Sammy (now a mommy!), and this bike definitely has a similar personality to that Sammy!

I know, I know....all you naysayers are thinking "but bikes don't have personalities." Trust me - they do.

Taper rocks. 1,500 swim? Heh. Yeah, I can do that.

New Tires, Part Deux

Sat 7/8 - Woke up early (seriously, do I need to say that? Probably not), still feeling a little sore and congested, but not all that bad. Due to meet Heather at 8 to put new tires on her bike, then ride our silly little taper workout. Except. I forgot it was Time Trial day for the Tour, and that clearly takes precedence. Which it did.

By the time the (turned out to be pathetic – Bobby! You heartbreaker!) TT finished, I made it to Heather's, we changed her tires, and left on the ride, it was almost 10:30. We only had to ride 22 miles, or 90 minutes, so we rode through Golden Gate Park, and headed out around Lake Merced. There's a nice bike path that goes around the lake, though by 11:15 or so it was completely crowded with walkers, joggers, and a few other cyclists. We called out whenever we passed, but (Is it a full moon? We were speaking in tongues? Something?) no one seemed to hear us, and we had quite a few near-misses. One man in particular motioned to the road, as though we ought to be there, and yelled something unintelligible at us. But, it's a bike path, with a big sign that says "bikes here" so I said some very naughty things my mother would cringe if she heard (sorry mommy). My teammate Karen coined the term "IIS" -- Irritible Ironman Syndrome -- and I have it in full force. Thankfully, the rest of the ride was uneventful.

We ran 30 minutes after, and then were done for the day. Woo! I celebrated by going to the movie theater for the first time since New Year's Day (!), and then watching two more movies at home. Yeah. By the end of the night, my throat had entirely closed up, and I couldn't breathe. Maybe I celebrated too soon.

Sun 7/9 - supposed to swim 40 minutes in open water, then run 10 miles. I will take any excuse not to swim in Aquatic Park (though I'd actually been hoping to do one more open water swim). For you guys outside the Bay Area who don’t know this: when women get out of the water at Aquatic Park, we often have a slimy "beard" of crud. Which, among other things, says to me the water's not so clean. It's bad enough going in there with full immunity, but I decided I need every advantage to feel better, so I sat out and watched everyone's stuff while they swam. (Oohh, aren’t I magnanimous. Uh, no. Selfish, actually. I knew I’d never run 10 miles unless I went with some teammates!)

When everyone finished, I ran with John and Paul. (These two are both soooooooo much faster than me. Thanks to you guys for slowing down today so I had some company!) We had a very uneventful run, out past the Golden Gate Bridge, out the costal trail (very cold, fog rolling in, happy July in SF), down to Baker Beach and back. In celebration of taper, we opted NOT to run the Sand Stairs -- and thus also missed the naked men on Baker Beach. Hooray. Capped it off with a 15 minute soak in AP to "ice" the legs down.

Tomorrow we send the bikes, so I'll head to Sports Basement after work, take off my little guy's pedals, and wave goodbye. We're also allowed to send ahead a bag. At first I thought I didn't need to do this - planning what I need in two weeks seemed too overwhelming. I remembered the gigantic duffle I sent ahead to Canada in '04 (it included, among other things, my floor pump and a food processor), and Izumi convinced me to send a bag after all.

Well.

We have a 25# limit, and I don't own a scale, so I'm only guessing. But already this bag includes: wetsuit, 10 servings of Perpetuem powder, 3 water bottles, 6 M & M containers (empty! To hold Endurolytes on race day), a full bottle of Endurolytes, bike shorts and bike shirt (I hesitated to put these in, thinking, "what if they get lost?" But, if they get lost, it means my BIKE is also lost. So there's probably a better chance of these arriving than my luggage from the airline), 7 HammerGels, Assos, Body Glide, ear plugs, a whisk, Immodium, duct tape, 8 CO2 cartridges, a pedal wrench, a can of Pringles, soy butter, honey, and 4 700cc tubes.

Jesus.

Hopefully TriBikeTransport doesn't own a scale, either!

New tires rock

Friday 7/7
Still not feeling 100%, but I only have less than two weeks before we leave and I will be hopelessly far behind if I don't get cracking on a few things...so I went back to work.

After work, swam at Koret. Arrived and discovered I'd forgotten just about everything. No towel, no comb, no shorts to do core (which I am not supposed to be doing anyway, so maybe this was subliminal). Just suit, goggles, water. Swam 3,200 sloooowly and then begged nice student worker for towel. Apparently being a drippy lady standing in the lobby is a good way to get a free towel.

Most depressing part of swim - Pete showed up and his ENTIRE WORKOUT (1,100) was shorter than ONE of our sets (3x400). So he was in, out, and done and I was still on the same set as when he arrived. The only thing that kept me from being bitter is knowing that I will be doing that short 1,100 yard workout next Friday!

If I were doing Canada I probably would have drowned him. (sorry Canada teammates who are reading this...you folks are suckers!!!)

Spent the rest of the evening putting new tires on my bike so they'll have just about 50 miles on them for race day (literally...this took me an hour. There were many cuss words and tears. Fortunately it all worked out. Let's hope it took this long because they are new tires, and not because I am an incompetent moron. If so, and this happens on race day....well, I am screwed).

Uh oh - start pounding the Airborne

Monday was off - both from workouts, and from work. I was supposed to be at the fabulous Marnie Randall's wedding this weekend, and I missed it for a bike ride. (Yes, I am a bad friend!) I "slept in" til 7:30, watched the Tour, got a massage (Sara Aymami rocks), and dropped off my bike for a tune-up. Met some friends for dinner. Behaved as normally as I know how.

Tuesday, 7/4 - the lethargy begins. Had the day off from work. Got up early (again, to watch the Tour), fully intending to swim at 9. Nine became "talking about swimming" at 10, which became not getting to the pool and getting in til 10:30. Whatever. Heather and I got there and hopped in. Had to swim 3,000. She is a million miles faster than me, so she was out, showered and done before I finished. After swimming, we did some core and stretched.

By the afternoon, I could feel the sickness coming on - pure and total exhaustion, plus the scratchy tickle in my throat. I left a BBQ early, walked home, and was in bed with the lights out at 9 p.m. Happy July 4th indeed - it was barely dark! My Nana would have been 92 today - woo!

Weds 7/5 - full sleeve of Airborne. I went to work, not feeling so hot. Lasted a full hour and a half before I went home (and a midday ride on CalTrain means it takes almost that long to get home again, so even though I left the office at 10:20, I didn't get home to my couch until noon.) Spent the rest of the day asleep. Track workout? Uh, no. Didn't do it.

Thurs 7/6 - set alarm for normal time, knowing full well I wouldn't make it. Woke up long enough to call in sick, and then went back to sleep - full time 15 hrs of rest. Sleepy! Supposed to go to spin (lest I get snarky comments again next week), but opted to walk to Jamba Juice instead (total workout: 1/2 mile walk). Uh oh indeed.

Lane Bashing

The start of an Ironman is rough. If you've ever seen the Clif Bar commercial where the dude in the canoe hits a swimmer with his paddles, that just about approximates it. Since I don't know anyone in San Francisco with a canoe, lane bashing is the next best thing. We did this before Ironman in 2004, and during the actual race I found myself thinking "Is this it? We've had practices worse than this!"

I want that to be the case again at Placid -- though I've heard Placid, because it's a two-loop swim, is a lot more violent (ugh) -- so I emailed Wayne last week to ask him if we could do some lane bashing at practice today.

What is lane bashing? See the photo. Two swimmers stand in the lane (last time we did 4 across, so this was a nice improvement!) and swim, while everyone else on the team stands along the sides and hits you. It is sort of violent (Kamal in particular has a fondness for pushing people under the water), and it is scary, but it helps you realize how it feels to be jostled and how to swim without panicking. The pic actually looks a little more tame than it actually is.

Before the bashing, we swam about 4,000 yards. Woo. Tired. Fortunately my lane-mates (Jessica, Stu, and Steve) had all done the Vineman ride on Saturday as well (and due to a missed turn, Jessica actually rode 120 miles), so we all agreed to swim a little slower than normal. Not hard to do.

After getting out of the pool, we headed out to run for an hour -- BRIDGET, we ran right by your house!! -- in Larkspur, and out onto a beautiful trail. I ran with Kamal and Coach Wayne, which was great, as I had a little coach time all to myself, and they both gave me some great tips on Placid's course. I feel a lot better about the bike course now. We ran back to the pool, and changed into our suits one more time (although sort of gross to put a wet swimsuit back on, it actually felt great), and water-ran for an hour.

Done! Before noon!!!!! Wooooooooo. So friggin' happy.
LET THE TAPER BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A quesadilla is not an appropriate pre-century meal

Last long ride before the Ironman! Hooray! Woke up at 5:20 a.m. (ouch) to watch the pre-race show for the first day of the Tour, and to finish getting my bike stuff ready. Left the house at 6:15 to go pick up Laura; we were on the road to Santa Rosa by 6:40.

This was supposed to be a "solo" or small group ride, but there were about 20 of us, and we met in a random parking lot just before 8. We set off to do two loops of the Vineman course (because we weren't starting in Guerneville, this would amount to "only" 105 miles, and not the full 112. Close enough.) I took off on the first loop with Kamal, Victoria, Debbie, and two people I don't know (one not from our team), and realized I was probably going faster than I ought to, so started to pull back some around mile 20, and rode by myself. It was early, the weather was cool, and this is one of my favorite rides, so I was having a grand old time. We stopped once for water, and I caught up to the group I'd let go; when we started up again Victoria and I rode together for the rest of the loop, picking up Megan somewhere along the way. We came in at 3:14, feeling strong.

We cruised back to the car and replenished our food and water, and set off for the second loop. As soon as we took off, I realized my right cleat was loose again (this happened at the end of the first loop of the Triple Brick...apparently my fix hadn't held), so I had to pull over, dig out my tools, and fix the shoe. Kamal, Debbie and Victoria all waited, which was nice. We took off again, only to have Kamal and Victoria realize they hadn't locked the car, so they doubled back to lock it, and Debbie and I continued on.

The weather got hot, but otherwise most of the ride was really uneventful. Sort of. For some reason, I'd decided to eat a quesadilla for dinner on Friday night. I eschew almost all dairy to begin with, but I was swayed by my trip to Trader Joe's and the three-cheese blend and tortillas I'd picked up. Sort of occured to me as I was making it that this could be a bad idea, but hunger has a way of making you see in tunnel vision, so I wolfed it down and went to bed. When I didn't have any issues during the first loop, I was rather pleased with myself and my little Iron stomach. Ah. Yes. Not so much.

By mile 70 or so I felt like I had a four month old child in my stomach. It hurt, and so I stopped drinking my Perpetuem (I'd swerved to avoid getting killed by a car around mile 60 and all my Wheat Thins - which I was really looking forward to eating - had bounced out of my bento box).

What's a really bad thing to do when you're riding 105 miles and there's a big hill at mile 95? (this is a rhetorical question...can you guess it is "stop eating"?). I'd ridden ahead of Debbie, and as we got closer to Chalk Hill I realized I might be worse off than I thought. Rational Mo/Crazy Mo had a debate inside my head.

Crazy Mo: "You pansy, suck it up and eat, you're not going to stop on race day, so pretend this is your race!"
Rational Mo: "This isn't the race, and it will suck a lot more if you fall over on Chalk Hill and get runover by a pickup truck, only to have a teammate come upon you writhing in the gutter." Rational Mo won (woo!). I could see Stu and Steve not too far ahead, but knew I didn't have the energy to catch up to them, so I pulled over to wait for Debbie. Only then did I realize the extent to which my stomach was swollen, and just how much I was shaking. Bad news. I found an espresso Hammer Gel in my shirt pocket, and drained that and some pretzels and about 5 more Endurolytes and hovered over my bike to wait.

We made it back to the parking lot just three minutes over our first loop - excellent, particularly given how hot it had become. I curled up like a baby in a chair and wolfed down some stomach meds. I didn't feel fully better until the next morning. Lesson learned: quesadilla BAD!

Didn't make it home until after 7 p.m., at which point I had to will myself to get into the ice bath. And guess what: trying to find someone home to talk to your pathetic ass on a Saturday night as you're sitting in 14 pounds of ice is not an easy task!

Totals for day
Miles: 105 (avg speed 16 mph), total time 6:33
Water: 175 ounces
Calories: Hammer Gel (90), Pretzels (250), Perpetuem (900)

These boys are killing me

For a long time, my hero was Greg Lemond. Then it was Lance Armstrong, and Tyler Hamilton (I still get razzed by my friends for continuing to believe in Tyler's innocence...though even I now admit this is getting increasingly more difficult). With all three of those guys gone, in the past year I've turned to Jan Ullrich, Ivan Basso, and Chris Horner.

Now Ullrich's out, Basso's out, Hamilton might get banned for life. It seems everybody's lying and cheating just to get ahead, and the Tour is a whole different game. Thank god I didn't go to France this year.

Today we were supposed to swim 2800 yards and run 6 miles. Rhian and I ran at lunch, and quickly realized we were both incredibly fatigued. We still did it, which probably wasn't the smartest decision, given what's on deck for the weekend. I intended to swim after work (so sick of long course at Stanford, so I've taken to swimming short course at Koret in the evenings if I can make it happen). Somehow also supposed to go to the grocery store (only food in house: plain yogurt, 4 eggs, and stale cheerios), get bike stuff ready for 6:15 a.m. Saturday departure, and eat. Swimming lost.

Obsessing begins

This week I began obsessing over every last detail - worried the bike will be too much of a challenge, or that we haven't prepared enough. Worried about getting kicked in the head. Worried about - everything. I spent several hours on Tuesday pouring over any and every piece of Lake Placid recon I could find - race reports (I love how some of these people say they are "slow" and have IM times of 11 hours and under), tips from coaches, etc.

I've only had one Ironman-related nightmare so far (and that was a few weeks ago) so I hope that's a good thing. Last time I dreamed Wayne made us do a Practice Ironman the last week before the race "just to make sure we could do it." Hopefully that will not happen!

As a pre-empt for the inevitable post-Ironman depression, on Tuesday I signed up to run the Richmond Marathon on November 11. My dear friend Ryan will be running her first marathon, and I'm going to accompany her! Ryan is traveling to Lake Placid next month with her husband and baby, and I can't wait to see them.

Mon 6/26 - off. No stretching, or exercise of any form (other than walking!). Walk to Lauren's house two blocks away for dinner - and got a ride home. Feel pretty good considering what Sunday entailed. Left leg a little sore from where it spasmed at the end of the w/o, but other than that, I felt great.

Tues 6/27 - swim 2300 m at lunch. As always, supposed to be more. Feel like crap for most of it, and spend entire time worrying that swimsuit is going to fall off (you don't want to know). Swimsuit is being retired ASAP.

Weds 6/28 - lunch: core training and stretch. After work, rescue bike from mechanic (yet again) - I am definitely getting my money's worth from that 5 year service policy! Though it's likely that at this point I think they probably just spray some shine on it and stick it back on the rack and tell me it's done...

PM: Spinerval at Kezar- 5 sets of 15 minutes on the bike trainer and 10 minutes running at "AT" (aerobic threshold). The official workout was cancelled, so it was Alex, Kristen, Kim, the Johns, and me. I under-estimated the length of the workout: I'm not sure why adding a 15 minute spin and a 10 minute run times five was so difficult, but after we started I realized this was going to be a two and a half hour endeavor, and I had one gel. Oops. We called Wayne DURING workout to see if all these runs are REALLY supposed to be at AT, but he doesn't answer (probably watching TV laughing "hahahahha, those suckers" or something) (just kidding, Coach Wayne!). HR actually skyrockets pretty easily (still not recovered from Sunday, I guess), so runs are all at AT anyway. By the end, it was 9 p.m., all the lights had come on at the stadium, almost everyone had gone home, and we were getting some weird looks. But come to think of it, we get the weird looks in the daylight, too. Total ride about 20 miles, total run 6 miles.

Thurs 6/29 - lunch: Forgo aquajogging, contemplate walking to Stanford Shopping Center, and decide it is too far (have to take back terrible cheap Nike watch that exploded off my wrist one evening at the pool - I've been cleaning my desk and actually found the receipt!).

PM: terribly hard spin with M2 - could barely revolve the pedals. Get called out for skipping class last week - he tells me I can come to the Wednesday class if I have to miss it. Well that's good, except I didn't KNOW on Wednesday that I would be tired on Thursday....

After spin, 50 minute run with Megan - we ran from Crunch to the Golden Gate Bridge and back. Finish workout at 9 p.m. for second day in a row. Enjoy dinner of bananas and cereal before passing out. This is getting rather like "Groundhog Day," only without Bill Murray.

"If you feel the need to vomit...consider vomiting"

<---Survivors - me with Kamal and Laura after Sunday's workout. Kamal looks rested and refreshed because he didn't do the Triple Brick, and Laura and I did!

So on Sunday we did the Triple Brick. What's that? Oh, a 2 hour bike ride, followed by a 50 minute run. Times three. Yes, that's an 8 1/2 hour workout, or longer than most people's workdays (myself included). I picked up Heather at 6:30 a.m. and we got home at 8:00 p.m. What better way to spend a Sunday!

Part of an email from Wayne ought to sum it up:
"On a similar note, if you are on course and feel the need to vomit, and it is NOT related to a dehydrated state, then consider vomiting."

Uhh, right. Hopefully I will never need to heed these words of advice.

It was supposed to be 106 in Danville, but we were "lucky" and it was only 98. (However, I could feel the skin on my arms burning, so I'll venture to say that the ambient temp was at least 106!)

The Triple Brick was not as scary as I remembered it from 2004. I think this is for a variety of reasons: 1) insanity 2) old age 3) I'd lived through it once before 4) insanity and 5) awesome bike. Only about 20 of us on the team are doing IM USA or IM Austria (everyone else is doing Canada) so the Canada peeps rode up Mt. Diablo while we did the brick. They'll do their triple on July 31, a week after we're done. I'll be there cheering them on with my other USA teammates - drinking cold beer and eating apple fritters in the shade.

I was very lucky and had a great day - I didn't think I would feel as good as I did in the heat. I think in large part due to my new strategy of pushing 10 endurolytes (400 mg of sodium) an hour on the bike. As long as I don't have a heart attack, this should be ok! Like some others on the team, I did have some trouble breathing near the end, but I think this is due to both the asthma the bitchy doctor at UCSF thinks I don't have (I'd gladly have breathed into her freaking measuring tube after 7 hours of exercise), and the stagnant air/smog. Fortunately the inhaler worked its magic.

This is the longest and hardest workout we do - much more challenging than Ironman itself, since we go into it tired, whereas for Ironman we'll be rested and raring to go. One more weak of peak training, including a 105 mile ride next Saturday, and then TAPER BEGINS! WOOOOO! The end is in sight, and I can't wait.

By the time everyone finished and we'd changed into dry clothes and eaten, it was late. As soon as I got home I took a 21 pound ice bath (sooo painful, but made Monday bearable) and promptly passed out.

Totals for day:
Exercise: 8:21 (Heather and I rode 10 minutes faster on the second bike loop)
Water: 275 ounces (yes....more than TWO GALLONS)
Endurolytes: 75 (3,000 mg of sodium!!)
Calories: 1200 - Perpetuem, Hammer Gel, and Wheat Thins
Puking: 0

I'm a lucky girl

You guys have helped me raise an additional $1,040 in just over a week! How awesome is that?

Slept 10 1/2 hours, then did core training and swam 2800 yards. Was feeling ok, til an old lady with a snorkel and fins got in my lane. And was swimming the exact. same. speed.

100 degrees in the shade

Mon 6/19 – off. Exhausted. Do nothing remotely related to coolmax, sweating, or hurting. Massage after work. Painful, not relaxing, but good for the long haul.

Tues 6/20 – off. Intend to swim and do core training, but go see Dr. Rabbetz in the morning, who tells me I am exhausted (uh, really? Ya think?). Tells me to take another day off. Don’t have to tell me that twice.

Weds 6/21 – core training at lunch. After work, Kezar spinerval. Haven’t been on my old bike in ages, and use that for the spin. It’s tiny! How did I ever ride all scrunched up on this thing? It’s also filthy, so I get covered in grease trying to shove the back wheel into the trainer. We rode for just under an hour, and ran two separate ten minute intervals. Aerobars have added advantage of being resting place for a nap during workout. Sprint home to watch Anderson Cooper on The Daily Show, eat dinner, and pass out.

Thurs 6/22 – 100 degrees in Palo Alto. Fight inertia, leave A/C environment of office building and swim 1700 m at lunch to stretch things out. After work, decide I can't deal with spin (my dad's calculations from college - he made sure to tell me it cost him $500 every time I skipped a class - briefly pass through my head. Fortunately this is only $15 a class and not $500!). Decide to run instead - run 6 miles through SeaCliff and the Presidio. Feel great.

Fri 6/23 - get an email from dear friend asking me how I feel with one month to go. Uh oh. One month! Swim 2000 m at lunch, feel awful. Carpal tunnel from too much email. Switch mouse to slow things down. Recovery week about to end....triple brick is this weekend, and it's supposed to be 106 in Danville. Yikes.

Why is Wayne ALWAYS right?

Spent the weekend (third of three spent out of town – you should see my apartment) in Guerneville with Alex, Skeeter, Kim and her husband Jerry. I was pysched for a relaxing weekend away (no 10,000 feet of climbing), with a leisurely bike ride and a really long run.

I was exhausted for most of the week, and spent some time negotiating with Wayne re: the status of Saturday’s ride. He suggested I skip it altogether, and focus on my long run Sunday (19 miles). I was not ok with this (triple type A personality, with less than 5 weeks to go…there’s limited time left to be on the bike!), so we agreed on 50 miles. Well, he agreed. In my head, I reasoned I’d ride the full 80, then shoot off an “I’m so tough, look what I did” email to Wayne when I finished.

Yeah, well. The guy’s not the head coach for no reason. (Maybe I ought to start considering he knows what he is talking about. Nine times out of ten I take his word as gospel...but then sometimes I ignore it, and I do things like cry on bike rides.)

It was supposed to be a scorcher, so we got up at 6 and were ready to ride by 7. Off we went. Or, really, off went Alex, Kim, and Jerry. I pedaled and pedaled, and couldn’t keep up. This is discouraging any time, but it was beyond maddening when it was mile TWO. Of 80. By mile five I couldn’t even see them. They were not going all that fast (though their average for the day was 17.6, it was much less when I was still near). They generously waited for me at a turn, and we regrouped, and set off again. There they went. Again.

By now I was reconsidering my desire to do 80. I mean, really…Wayne said I could take the day off entirely, or do 50. Maybe 50 was fine. I was either going to ride 80 all by myself, and slowly (I think I was averaging about 13 mph), or I could suck it up, admit I was wrong, and do the 50. I did the latter. Alex drew me a map in the dirt, with sticks, and we agreed that in Healdsburg I would take a different route and head back to the house. No challenging ride is complete without a few tears, so in between the map-drawing and the parting, I sobbed a good bit while I rode.

(Seriously, Mo. It’s a freaking bike ride. You’re tired. Get over yourself. I realized how ridiculous I was being and tried to get it back together. I mean, at least I wasn’t going to have to ride 80 miles in 100 degree weather! Isn’t that excellent?)

We parted in Healdsburg, and I hoped that my memory of the dirt-stick drawing would work out, as I had $10 and no phone. I stopped at a gas station to pee and get more water, confirmed the next turn with some guy, and was on my merry way.

And suddenly, my day was ok. I wasn’t trying to keep up with anyone, I was just out enjoying the ride and the scenery (so maybe this is what it’s like to just…enjoy riding). It was over much too soon, and I found myself back at the house just after 2:30 of riding. 45 miles. I considered going back out for more, but reined it in and did the right thing (that is, I showered, sat on the porch, drank lemonade, and read a book. Yeah.)

Sunday 6/18
Longest run since Napa! Longest Pre-Ironman run! It's all downhill from here! Of the three of us, I’m the only one doing Placid, so I had my longest run today. I left the house at 7 to run for 40 minutes alone before circling back to get Kim and Alex for their run. It was already getting warm. Kim very nicely joined me for the next 13.5 miles , and we ran through Guerneville, out through Anderson Woods, and back. I love running with people I don’t normally run with, as we have everything in the world to talk about, and the time sped by. We got back to the house, Kim peeled out, and I ran one more loop around the neighborhood (1.3 miles) to finish things off right at 3 hours.

Check, done. 19 miles run before 10:30 a.m.!

Insert Witty Title Here

I'm tired. Really, really tired. You could land a 747 in the living room and I wouldn't notice. Exhausted. Beyond all comprehension. Blame Berryessa, and just over 5 weeks to go til the big day.

Mon 6/12 - Wake up with no problem, vaguely sore (keeping up with the big boys during Sunday's run was a bad idea). Intend to lift/core at lunch, but soreness has increased so much by then that I know lifting would be a bad idea. Go to gym and do nothing but stretch for 30 minutes. Go home, eat dinner, pass out.

Tues 6/13 - More exhausted. Manage to get to pool with aquajogger at lunch, and run around for 45 minutes. Still sore, but water feels good. Student asks me if I'm on the cross-country team, I feel super happy that they think I'm 21. Reapply eye cream, it must work. Go home, eat dinner, pass out.

Weds 6/14 - Eyes don't open. Mainline coffee into bloodstream, but to no avail. Swim 2500 at lunch, spend rest of day eating. Go home, eat dinner, pass out.

Thursday 6/15 - First day all week I'm awake. Lift/core at lunch. Spinning after work, then stretch. Get carded when buying wine for gift (eye cream really works!). Go home, eat dinner, pass out.

Friday 6/16 - Track workout at High Noon in Palo Alto. 91 degrees (literally, I am not exaggerating). Warmed up for 20, then 3x1 mile repeats. 7:35, 8:30 (supposed to be slow!), and 7:17. Quickly cooled down for 5 (supposed to be 20), then rushed back to work and inhaled lunch.

Suddenly, weekend again.

IronMo Update #6 - The Home Stretch

Friends,

It’s been a while since my last update, but please rest assured that I’ve been training my butt off. There are less than 6 weeks to go until Ironman: it’s now close enough to see the starting line, but not quite close enough to relax.

As of today, 74 people have helped me raise $7,232 towards my goal of $10,000. Thank you for helping me get so far! One of my challenges this season has been actually finding the time to fundraise – I’ve had a pile of letters on my desk for five or six months that never quite made it into an envelope and out in the mail to most you. Although I’ve been incredibly fortunate to raise so much (thank you!), I also know how much additional support is still out there.

If you haven’t donated to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and would like to show your support, you may make a gift by visiting this link:
http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/goironmo
Thank you in advance for helping me reach $10,000– every little bit does add up, and helps make a difference! Together, our team of 80 athletes has raised $461,000 – all going to help find a cure.

Since my last update, the mothers of two of my friends have been diagnosed with cancer, and one of my personal honorees from the 2004 Ironteam has relapsed, and been told by the hospital where he was treated initially that he’s not a good candidate for additional therapies. We’re heavily into what I call the “me” phase of Ironteam (as in ME hungry, ME tired, ME need to swim/bike/run/lift/stretch) and hearing the updates of their challenges and victories helps to keep the real purpose of what we are trying to accomplish –curing cancer – in the forefront of all of our minds.

The team spent this past weekend was spent in northern Napa County at Lake Berryessa. Just after sunrise on Saturday, we swam 2 miles in open water, then hopped on our bikes and rode 92 more. Our ride covered over 10,000 feet of climbing (much of it in the first 45 miles) in scorching heat and over challenging terrain. Our goal? “Try to be back by dark.” (I made it.)

After a lot of great food and a short night’s sleep, on Sunday we had another early wake-up, and ran 13 miles on a wooded trail - hopefully avoiding all the poison oak. It was a tiring weekend, which was precisely the point. (It’s no accident that our head coach is a former Army captain.) Many of us were discouraged – myself included – and doubted ourselves at one time or another during Saturday’s ride, yet we all found the will to pull it together and keep on going. It’s an apt metaphor for Ironman day, and it’s a gift to remember we are all lucky enough to willingly spend our weekend swimming, sweating, and grinding gears.

Thanks for your continued belief in me, and your continued support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Without your encouragement, this would have been a much more difficult path. 39 days to go!

With hope and love,
Maureen

To make a gift to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society: http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/goironmo
To read my largely incoherent ramblings: www.goironmo.orgStill no cure for cancer ~ Ironteam 2006 Help find a cure: www.goironmo.org Swim 2.4 ~ Bike 112 ~ Run 26.2