What have I done?

I have tried to write this post several times.  To no avail I have either lost it or run out of time trying to edit it.

That must mean something right?

What it means is you get to read T-odd’s rendition of the weekend.  Don’t stop before you get to The Gary Project.  It is just pee in your pants funny.

And yes, we did sign up.

OMG we signed up!

Not even on the bucket list

Tomorrow I am leaving to go out of town.  I will be heading to Madison, Wisconsin to volunteer for the Ford Wisconsin Ironman.

Five years ago, as a stay at home mom, I decided I needed to find something for myself.  I was surfing the internet and decided I would try my hand at triathlons.  I just had baby number three and I needed something for myself.  So why not.  That was in January.

By June I was deep into training for my first sprint triathlon.  My mom would come over and watch the kids while I went running or biking or swimming.

There was one particular run on a path near my house that I clearly remember.  I was day dreaming that I was doing an Ironman race.  As soon as that day dream was over, I assured myself that THAT was never going to happen, because who in their right mind would do that?

Five years and several triathlons later, I find myself going to volunteer at the Ironman race ONLY because it will solidify a space for me in the 2010 Wisconsin Ironman.

Sunday I will volunteer.

Monday I will register.

Tuesday I will question my sanity.

Good Bye Hugs

The Twin City Tools (12 member relay team) take off today to run 200 miles in 24 hours at Ragnar.

Good Luck Boys!

See ya on the flip.

Pain is weakness leaving your body

I’m going to thank the 14 year old wrestler, who was our bus boy the day before the race.   We met him when we were chomping down burgers in Taylors Falls.  He was wearing a t-shirt that held the quote “Pain is weakness leaving your body”.

And let me tell you, I used it yesterday during my half ironman race, when I was down and almost out.  I shut my eyes on mile 9 of the run.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted to quit.  I decided to chant the above quote instead…until the pain went away.

That was my darkest moment of the race, the rest of the race actually went VERY well.  So, I’ll start from the top and give you the highlights.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the wind was light.  Many of my regular tri buddies were there to stake their claim on the day.  I find racing with friends sooo much more fun than going to a race alone.  I guess that makes me a racing extrovert.  I like sharing these experiences and not struggling alone.

Cousin Catherine was there, she asked me to help her with her zipper.  It was about 5 minutes before the race, everyone had been kicked out of the transition area, there was a thread that was stuck, I freed it and then the zipper pulled up and came right off.  I broke it. The panic in her eyes was horrible.  I felt horrible.  She had an alternative…shark skin…not sure what that is, I’m too cheap, but she had something, thank god.

My swim went fine.  Per usual, I panicked around 3 minutes in.  My legs feel like tree stumps, I feel like I can’t kick and then I can’t breath.  I took a moment, did a few breast stokes and then started counting.  ONE, TWO, THREE.  On three I would breath.  Mindless.  I got to the half way point and realized I was under 15 minutes, that was good, REAL good.  If I could do the same on the way back I would be 4 minutes less than last year.

When I got out of the water…my watch read 30 minutes and some odd seconds.  REAL GOOD!

The transition went fine, off on the bike I went.

I chose to ride with less water and electrolytes than usual due to some bottle drops and assistance along the course.  This plan seemed to work out great!  Every 15 minutes my timer would go off and I would drink or eat something depending on the time.  Thanks to Nathan, I also added in some leg stretching every 45 minutes…thanks Nate (oh and thanks for the use of your AWESOME goggles, I loved them).

56 miles is a long ride and I found myself have conversations with MYSELF.  The best one just so happened at mile 20.  I was rolling along, looking at the fields, the sky, the cows and said in my head…”So, what do you want to talk about?”  And that right there is when you realize, this is a long race and that you can only laugh at the insanity.

Around mile 30 of the bike ride a woman passed me.  I don’t take kindly to woman passing me.  I don’t so much mind if a fast guy passes me BUT a girl passes me, and I have a serious issue.  So, this chick passes me, then I pass her.  We go on like this for 15 miles.  I take her on the hills, she’s sloppy.  She takes me when I am trying to pee on the bike (that means slowing down and trying to squat on my saddle at around 19 MPR).  The 5th time she past me, out of my mouth very quietly slides, “WHORE”.  I was so shocked that I said it out loud, I murmured,  “OMG, that is so  mean, I can’t believe you just said that.”  Then I laughed at myself.  Again, talking to myself.

I came into T2 fast, feeling good, seeing my family.  Hopped off my bike and ran in.  I had to pee.  OH YEAH, pee!  So, I was having GI issues on the bike.  I tried to pee on my bike, SERIOUSLY TRIED.  I let out a touch and then would be overcome with the sensation that I was going to shit myself.  That was enough to alter the course…I would need to stop on the run.  That meant the need to bike faster to the finish because I knew I would be wasting time in the bathroom.

Off on the run I went, happy the bike was over.  My legs started cramping.  I have not figured out how to fix this issue.  It happens every time.

I wanted to run 8 minute 30 second miles.  Around mile 1.5 I was altering my goals.  The legs were cramping.  If I kept it slow it was going to be ok, if I went faster than 9’s I was sunk.  I started timing my miles, full well knowing if I did 10 minute miles I could still beat my last years time.

At mile 2 I stopped, walked to the side of the course and stretched.  The emergency volunteers descended on me immediately.  I told them I was just stretching and they moved on.

I knew my family and Becca (who took 1st in the Athena group, WAY TO WIN THAT!)  would be at mile 6.  I couldn’t wait to stop and tell them how badly I wanted to stop and then they could slather me with sun screen or hug me or take me home.  Needless to say, they were across the road, yelling at me and telling me to keep going and they were not going to break my stride…I kept going.

Mile 7-9 was hell.  JMatt showed up on his bike.

Do you know JMatt?  Or Fast Matt as I call him.  Yeah, he got 2nd in his AG and 7th overall in the sprint.  After doing a half iron race the weekend before.  Needless to say, he was on his bike, riding across the street and telling me I looked good, my ass looked good (he says that to all the girls and was nice enough to tell this old lady it was still holding up) and that I was crushing it.  I SO WAS NOT CRUSHING IT right then and there.

I did not like him being there for a bit, then he just rode, did not make me talk and just gave me all good thoughts.

A girl in pink ran by me, he told me she was in my AG (age group) and that she was my pace bunny and I shouldn’t loose her.  At that point it did not matter, I could not keep up, she kept going, I did not.  I struggled.  As I said before, I wanted to give up, sit in the van, have someone just bring me home.

Then I tried to find the calm.  The calm I know I have.  The ability to know yourself because you have the experience.  The calm you know you have if you dig deep enough when you are spiraling out of control.

I hit mile 10 and I knew it was up to me to beat my own time.  I could either do it or not.  The gear I did not know I had, showed up.  My stride picked up, the cramps left and by mile 12 it was do or die.  It was up to my very own grit to finish this bitch.

I ran down the street and into the park, where you go off road, around the bend and end on an up hill.

I took it as hard as I could.  Adam was yelling at the top of his lungs.  KP almost ran into me as he cheered me on.  JMatt was at the top, along with the woman in pink, who I never thought I would see again.

I overtook her at the hill and sprinted to the finish with a time of 5 hours and 7 minutes.

I have never worked so hard in a race that I have felt like I was going to throw up…I almost did.

My goal, 5:10.  I did it.  I ran the best race I could that day, in fact, my best half iron race ever.

Did I want a top 3 finish in my AG and bring home a trophy, yes.

Did I get it?  No.

The competition was deep.  The top 3 were elite racers who finished in 4:30 and THAT is crazy and awesome.

I will never be there.  Even as a stay at home mom I don’t have that kind of time or ambition.

But what I will be is a great example for my kids.  Even though I didn’t get in the top 3, I did my best and that is all anyone (including myself) can ask.

I my very humble opinion, I rocked that race and am more than pleased with the outcome.  In fact, I am proud of myself.  All that extra worked paid off by 7 minutes.

It has been a GREAT season!

Oh yeah and the new tires…they made me faster.  THANKS!

The men who saved me from myself

This is Greg.

This is Greg teaching Mary how to change a bike tire.  HER own bike tire.

Mary has ridden her tri bike for 4 years.  Mary has never gotten a flat.  Mary has never gotten new tires.  Mary has never changed a bike tire.  Mary has never learned to change a bike tire UNTIL NOW!

Do you realize how ridiculous that is?  I race and race and race and then train a little more for the next race, but have no idea how to change a tire if it goes flat.

That’s just stupid, really stupid.

I have even carried instructions for how to change my bike tire under my saddle for four years…just in case. But now I know.  It still won’t be pretty if I flat, but at least I will be able to change it.

So, thanks Greg!

And, thanks to Nathan.  Nathan came with me to buy new tires. I was just going to have the bike guys put them on for me.  He suggested I take them home and learn how myself.

So I did.

And let me tell you how good it feels to know I can change a flat.

AND, if I get a flat on Sunday’s race, I will blame both of you.  Because I never had any trouble with those tires before I started fiddling with them.

So, the 3rd place trophy

I recieved word today from the race director on why I got third place in my age group.

BUT, first of all, I just want to say that triathlon is one of those sports where woman can ROCK IT until almost what seems to be any age.  The woman who won the race is 50 years old and couldn’t even stay to get her awards.  She had to leave to train for the Ironman.  How crazy is that?

So no fear girls, if you haven’t given triathlon a shot at 40 and have always wanted to, it doesn’t matter.  You have plenty of time.  Just jump right in.

Anyway, here is what the race director said:

Two girls in your age group were in the top five places. They get removed from age group to over all. This moves you from 5th to 3rd. Great job.

No ticket to Bean Town today

Marathons are funny.

Marathons are hard.

There is a reason it takes people six swings at it before many get the time they need to go to Boston and live the dream.

The weather was perfect.  In fact, it was beautiful.  My head was on straight.  I was feeling good.

The first half of the race we were on pace, if not a touch fast.  21 minutes in, toe number 4 and five both went numb.  54 minutes in, toes number 3 went numb.  Just remained positive and tried to put it behind the door.

Once we hit Fort Snelling and started running around the lake on a dirt path our times slowed.  It was lonely down there, not a lot of spectators and the run was getting tough.   Then you get to run up a 1.5 mile incline back out, this added insult to injury.  The quads started yelling uncle along with T-odd who was telling us we needed to pick it up and there was not alot of time to give away.

Around mile 19 we got a shot in the arm by seeing our families, these things could not be done without them.  My friend Kuan was on his bike and followed us a long bit of the way and Vincent showed up to cheer Laura on.  I was hoping to get a free dinner invitation to Vincent’s, but no luck.

I’m not sure what mile it was that Laura and I knew this wasn’t going to happen, maybe on the slow incline up, 19, 20, who is to say?

My legs started cramping severely during those last 6 miles.  It was not just my quads, but then my calves got into the action and then came another hill.  Where I ran with my feet locked into a flexed position due to cramping…THAT WAS AWESOME.  But guess what, no toe pain OR bunion pain, they all went back to normal.  Or maybe the cramping just over rode it, does it really matter?

It’s at this point where I am saying to myself, it’s not for lack of training, it’s not because I gave up, it’s not because I am not digging deep enough. 

My mantra for the first half was what Adam told me right before I went to bed, “Whatever you do, don’t give-up.”  My mantra for the second half, “Pain is only temporary!”  Over and over and over.  I came to peace with the fact that I was digging as deep as I could today and that will be good enough.

In the end T-odd finished strong, Laura pulled away and worked her magic like only she can.  And then I saw them, the rest of the running group (plus Becca) waiting almost at the top of the last hill.  They ran me in and they cheered me on and without them I am pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it under 4:00 hours. 3 hours, 59 minutes and 46 seconds to be exact.

Still a PR, so I can’t get too upset.

Marathons are funny.

Marathons are hard.

And for me, marathons take a village.  Hats off to you my village.

Thanks for being there, every last one of you:

Adam, PJ, KP, CT, Roxi, Jay, Becca, Nana, Papa, Ted, Lovie, JC, Teddy, Megan, Jen, Erika, Nathan, Sam, Pete, Ann, Elie, Finn, Kuan, T-odd’s mom and sis and Laura and T-odd.

Positively thinking my glass is half empty

“The difference between the mile and the marathon is the difference between burning your fingers with a match and being slowly roasted over hot coals.”

Hal Higdon

This Sunday is the Minneapolis marathon. The many miles and many hours of training are now done and gone.

We have done everything we can do to ready our bodies for this race, specifically for the goal we are looking to attain. The goal, 3:45.

What’s with 3:45 you ask? That is the Boston qualifying time for old hags like Laura and I. So, when we turn 40, we can be there with bells on. It doesn’t matter to me that it typically takes people 6 attempts before they hit qualifying time. We’ll just disregard that study.

Like I said, we have readied our bodies. T-odd will be pacing us, holding us up with all his witty banter, keeping the monsters at bay and telling us to stop bitching. Mrs. B will be running too. Our families and running buddies will be there like beacons of hope at the top of the hills and around the most important corners.

My mind on the other hand…that is a different story. It gets real dark in those corners when there is pain.

So I just keep telling myself:
It’s going to hurt.
But I have trained.
My toes will start going numb around mile 5 with a burning tingle and move on to utter agony by mile 13.
But I know it is going to happen.
My bunion will be screaming from the start.
But my hot podiatrist and I have done everything we can for it.
I will be exerting myself and pushing myself harder than I ever have at this distance.
But I gave birth naturally to three kids and still lived to tell the tale.
I will get dizzy and tired and think I can’t go on and want to stop.
But I won’t.
I know all these things and will let them go one at a time as they come up, there will not be any surprises (ok that’s a crock of shit).
We have trained hard.
We have trained well.
We can do this.
We will do this.

YES WE CAN!

Let me hear you say it people…

Running wild

I run with people because I am an extrovert, getting my energy from others feeds my soul.

Clearly I am emmitting negativity about the upcoming race to my compadres.

Nothing like getting a little love and support via the internet.

Confidence crusher

Today was my first race of the summer racing season, the Minnetonka 1/2 Marathon.

Laura and I planned on running a pace of between 8:15 minute miles and 8:20 minute miles.  If we could finish in that time, we could slot it into the magical mathematical marathon equation of adding 10 minutes to your half marathon time and get our amazing marathon time.

And to be completely honest here, we would like to run the marathon in 3:45.  Why 3:45?  It qualities us for the Boston Marathon.

That said, it was a beautiful day.  And on that beautiful day, by mile 3 I knew I was having trouble.  We had started a little fast, I got a little hot and then the deep dark inner recess of my mind took over.  YOU CAN’T DO THIS PACE.

Once again, to be honest, I knew that pace was going to be hard for me.  In fact, I did not think I could do it.  I knew I could do 8:30’s but with the threshold work we had been doing I knew that 13.1 miles of that pace was going to be hard.

As I fell back, I waved Laura on, go seriously, I’ll be ok.  We were running with another friend of hers and they both felt great.  I fell back a little more around mile 4 or maybe 5, she looked back again.  Once again I waved her on.  I know Laura well enough to know, that even when she makes her goal, if she has more in the tank, she is not satisfied, even with that goal.

I wanted her to go on and do the best she could.  Go, go, I gave her the thumbs up, GO! I was resigned to the fact that I would throttle back and enjoy the day, trying to be ok with my time and full well knowing I now was not good enough to really think I could attain the ultimate runner’s goal of running Boston.

A touch later, Laura circles back.  I wanted her to go.  I knew she would be pissed at the outcome.  She says to me, you have run with me for the past two 1/2 marathons and we are running it together. And how I needed her. Seriously needed her.

The remaining miles were a struggle for me.  It’s dark in my head.  I do not do well alone.  I gather strength from others, typical extrovert even in racing.  I don’t like feeling weak and I felt weak.  The legs just would not turn over, my toes were going numb and it just was not going right.

We finally finished, together, at 1:51 at 8 minute 30 second miles.

As I retold the story of Laura turning around to Adam in the car on the way home, I started to cry.  Laura…Thanks for bringing me home, for carrying me and for trying to come up with ANYTHING to talk about.  It meant more than you will ever know.

Now I sit and ponder if I even have that inner steel at all.  It’s disturbing to me.

On a brighter note.  T-odd CRUSHED it and my fly girls Megan and Erika kicked it out of the park.

Way to go everyone!