I'm ready to be done now...thanks for playing. 5 weeks out...so close, yet 5 seemingly endless weeks away. I am dead-on-my-feet tired. I can't concentrate. I'm edgy and cranky and grumpy...basically all the shades of irritated one can be and still not quite be angry. Though sometimes I'm that too.
For instance, yesterday 7 miles into our 13.25 mile run, I was angry with the Admiral hill....it was longer than I had remembered it being and I didn't think that was very nice of it. I wanted to punch that hill, but I was too tired. I just kept running up it instead. Meg and I ran every hill of that run...which Meg said made her feel proud and confident. I guess that is a better way of interpreting the events than being pissed at the hills for being there in the first place. I, however, opted for the latter.
I am actually beginning to feel a bit disoriented...do you think that means something...like I'm tired and should sleep? Perhaps. I also have been experiencing magical thinking. Example: I know that I have done all of this training....but sometimes I trick myself into believing that I haven't actually done anything and that I am super out of shape. Did I really ride 205 miles in a day? Nah, no one could do that! Did I do that 18 mile run in 98 degree weather and humidity that made rain look dry? No...not possible! See...very tricky....disorienting even. Is 77 laps (up and back) in a 25 meter pool really 2.4 miles? Or is it just like 100 feet? I don't know anymore.
I just keep moving forward...and I am excited about the race...even if I don't care about it today or yesterday. I know this is "normal" (whatever the hell that is) at this point in the training. Training is just like the race....you have to face the moments when you are disoriented, edgy, cranky, crabby, tired and then just move forward. Well, I guess you don't have to do that...I do.
Plus...I'm having this weird edema where my legs swell at night....swell up tighter than a drum....like someone pumped my lower half full of water or air....like they might split at the seams edema. It's so very sexy...not to mention comfortable.
Blah, blah, blah, crank, crab, groan and moan. I just thought I'd share the under belly of this thing called Ironman training. I'm sure I'll perk up...but right now I'm still wondering if we're there yet.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Headwind Blows and OMG it's an IRONMAN
Training Log:
Yesterday Trina and I rode 90 miles. This is the furthest distance we have ridden to date. T was so ready....prepared, hydrated, fueled, and excited. I, on the other hand, was exhausted, had too much wine the night before, and was quite grumpy. So, I made a pact with myself to ride until I couldn't ride any more....and to keep my mouth shut (when I'm grumpy I can be, well, mean). I knew that I wasn't in a bad space for training.... I was just poorly prepared. In these circumstances I usually work out the grumps during the first 10 miles or so and then I'm golden.
After the first 30 miles of riding into the headwind my grumps were far from gone. I was happy with my music choice (only in my R ear I promise!!!), Melissa can take me far far away from the pain of headwind. But my body was exhausted from riding into the wind for so long. So, as all good triathletes do, we kept going. Another 20 into the headwinds. We had expected to ride for about 2.5-3 hours before turning around, but 4 hours in we realized that headwinds blow. We hate them. It was like riding up hill for 4 hours....something like riding Mt St Helens (refer to earlier posts from this season), which should only be done when training for Ironman.
Anyway, we completed our 90 mile ride with flying colors....well, except that my good intentions to 'practice fueling' like I plan to at Ironman made me confused and I ended up eating less than 50% of what I normally eat on a long ride. Ugh. I'm sure that this didn't contribute to my grumps AT ALL! We will do 100 with a short brick on Sunday next. My goals are to avoid headwinds (is that possible?), add hills back in (just finished the second long ride on the flats for confidence building), and EAT like I will at Ironman. Nutrition is soooo important it seems. And fueling for Ironman is SO much different than fueling for a marathon. Now I understand what the triathletes meant when they would say, 'oh, you ONLY run marathons?'. Yikes.
TRAINING VIDEO
I just got an awesome video for 'beginner' triathletes doing Ironman WI (that's me!). It's so amazing and full of relevant information about the course. The unexpected gift that it provided was this nauseating sensation of terror combined with excitement. I have never before today experienced both emotions with equal intensity. I feel like I want to run around whooping and crying at the same time. The description of the ride was not unexpected, but it confirmed my fears that I have not done enough hill training, or speed training, or whatever training to be prepared for a successful race. Yes, I have done all my rides (but one), all the long rides have involved hills and rollers (except 2), and I have been doing bricks and shorter races. NEVERTHELESS, I am back to being scared out of my granny-panties. I need to re-read last week's post from the brilliant Jen and Meg. I also need to take the very sound advice of my wise friend Becky: start filtering baby, start filtering. I think I need to stop reading and watching media about the difficulty of the course. Man, it's no joke: this is a head game!!!!
Advice Welcome.
Yesterday Trina and I rode 90 miles. This is the furthest distance we have ridden to date. T was so ready....prepared, hydrated, fueled, and excited. I, on the other hand, was exhausted, had too much wine the night before, and was quite grumpy. So, I made a pact with myself to ride until I couldn't ride any more....and to keep my mouth shut (when I'm grumpy I can be, well, mean). I knew that I wasn't in a bad space for training.... I was just poorly prepared. In these circumstances I usually work out the grumps during the first 10 miles or so and then I'm golden.
After the first 30 miles of riding into the headwind my grumps were far from gone. I was happy with my music choice (only in my R ear I promise!!!), Melissa can take me far far away from the pain of headwind. But my body was exhausted from riding into the wind for so long. So, as all good triathletes do, we kept going. Another 20 into the headwinds. We had expected to ride for about 2.5-3 hours before turning around, but 4 hours in we realized that headwinds blow. We hate them. It was like riding up hill for 4 hours....something like riding Mt St Helens (refer to earlier posts from this season), which should only be done when training for Ironman.
Anyway, we completed our 90 mile ride with flying colors....well, except that my good intentions to 'practice fueling' like I plan to at Ironman made me confused and I ended up eating less than 50% of what I normally eat on a long ride. Ugh. I'm sure that this didn't contribute to my grumps AT ALL! We will do 100 with a short brick on Sunday next. My goals are to avoid headwinds (is that possible?), add hills back in (just finished the second long ride on the flats for confidence building), and EAT like I will at Ironman. Nutrition is soooo important it seems. And fueling for Ironman is SO much different than fueling for a marathon. Now I understand what the triathletes meant when they would say, 'oh, you ONLY run marathons?'. Yikes.
TRAINING VIDEO
I just got an awesome video for 'beginner' triathletes doing Ironman WI (that's me!). It's so amazing and full of relevant information about the course. The unexpected gift that it provided was this nauseating sensation of terror combined with excitement. I have never before today experienced both emotions with equal intensity. I feel like I want to run around whooping and crying at the same time. The description of the ride was not unexpected, but it confirmed my fears that I have not done enough hill training, or speed training, or whatever training to be prepared for a successful race. Yes, I have done all my rides (but one), all the long rides have involved hills and rollers (except 2), and I have been doing bricks and shorter races. NEVERTHELESS, I am back to being scared out of my granny-panties. I need to re-read last week's post from the brilliant Jen and Meg. I also need to take the very sound advice of my wise friend Becky: start filtering baby, start filtering. I think I need to stop reading and watching media about the difficulty of the course. Man, it's no joke: this is a head game!!!!
Advice Welcome.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Hallelujah Hydration
Yesterday at 7 a.m. Trina and I started off on our 19 mile run. It was, without hesitation, the best long run we have had since we passed the 10 mile mark months ago. We started with a long warm-up speed walk and hydration. The rest is history. It was amazing. The difference that steady hydration made was like adding water to the pathetic, limp little houseplant that lives in my office. We came to life!!! Hydration is always an issue for us b/c of the distance. Neither of us enjoy carrying fuel and water and we have relied on flimsy attempts at water belts (b/w us we've tried nearly every skimpy water belt option available on the market). However yesterday we made a big investment and tried the 'alterra' pack by Camelbak....and the results were transformative. I mean it was amazing. We were fully hydrated consuming 58 oz's of fluid each and laughing throughout the entire run. Well, except for one deviation and big fat trip, both of which were b/c of me and not the lack of hydration. Really? You want to hear them?
Well, I have this thing. I like to plan our running or cycling route in great detail prior to our training and then I carve it in stone so that we can stick to it like white on rice. Deviation is difficult for me on a hydrated, full, happy day of visiting vineyards....so you can imagine how I handle deviation at mile 16 of a 19 mile run when I have minimal mental resources for coping with any unexpected outcomes. On a whim Trina suggested we take a road I don't like (yes, there are roads that one comes to prefer over others when you spend this much time pounding the pavement as we do). Instead of going with the flow I shot her the most evil look I could muster while eating my caramel powerbar gel and took off grumbling down the road. I snapped at her, complained, whined and generally acted like a 3 year old who didn't want to take a much needed nap. About a 1/4 mile down the road Trina calmly said, "are you done?". I said 'No!"...but I was. I couldn't muster the energy to go on with my tantrum....and then I was distracted. That's the beauty of being so tired when tantruming....easy distraction.
On the other hand, distraction is also not my friend. Many of you know that I have a tendency to fall down. You also know that I don't have to be doing anything other than walking on a flat, unblemished surface to fall down. At about the 18th mile I was beginning to get tired and hungry. At this point we were running through a neighborhood with treacherous sidewalks...a hazardous experience for me under the best conditions. Just as I came to a particularly uneven, rocky, broken section of walkway I also noticed an organic bakery with scones and cinnamon rolls in the window. As we ran by I craned my neck just so and looked over my shoulder so I could see the.....thud. That's me tripping badly and nearly falling to my knees. And so we laughed, well first we both freaked b/c it would be a travesty to get this far in training and have to bow out b/c I fell and broke my arm gawking at baked goods. But I will tell you, they were amazing baked goods. I love baked goods. Sigh.
So at last we have had a great run. At last we can see the light, at last we finished a long run laughing, whooping and high fiving one another. We had anticipated many of our long runs would be like this. But it seems that pectin, fuel, hydration and nutrition are far more influential than we had ever anticipated when we began this journey. But alas, we have determined a protocol that works for us....now I must go out and get more stone tablets to get this down.
Well, I have this thing. I like to plan our running or cycling route in great detail prior to our training and then I carve it in stone so that we can stick to it like white on rice. Deviation is difficult for me on a hydrated, full, happy day of visiting vineyards....so you can imagine how I handle deviation at mile 16 of a 19 mile run when I have minimal mental resources for coping with any unexpected outcomes. On a whim Trina suggested we take a road I don't like (yes, there are roads that one comes to prefer over others when you spend this much time pounding the pavement as we do). Instead of going with the flow I shot her the most evil look I could muster while eating my caramel powerbar gel and took off grumbling down the road. I snapped at her, complained, whined and generally acted like a 3 year old who didn't want to take a much needed nap. About a 1/4 mile down the road Trina calmly said, "are you done?". I said 'No!"...but I was. I couldn't muster the energy to go on with my tantrum....and then I was distracted. That's the beauty of being so tired when tantruming....easy distraction.
On the other hand, distraction is also not my friend. Many of you know that I have a tendency to fall down. You also know that I don't have to be doing anything other than walking on a flat, unblemished surface to fall down. At about the 18th mile I was beginning to get tired and hungry. At this point we were running through a neighborhood with treacherous sidewalks...a hazardous experience for me under the best conditions. Just as I came to a particularly uneven, rocky, broken section of walkway I also noticed an organic bakery with scones and cinnamon rolls in the window. As we ran by I craned my neck just so and looked over my shoulder so I could see the.....thud. That's me tripping badly and nearly falling to my knees. And so we laughed, well first we both freaked b/c it would be a travesty to get this far in training and have to bow out b/c I fell and broke my arm gawking at baked goods. But I will tell you, they were amazing baked goods. I love baked goods. Sigh.
So at last we have had a great run. At last we can see the light, at last we finished a long run laughing, whooping and high fiving one another. We had anticipated many of our long runs would be like this. But it seems that pectin, fuel, hydration and nutrition are far more influential than we had ever anticipated when we began this journey. But alas, we have determined a protocol that works for us....now I must go out and get more stone tablets to get this down.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
the little diesel who could
I post these b/c they MUST be posted. This is some of the dialog that goes on 'behind the scenes', for those of you following along. These are emails shared today after learning more details about the 112 mile cycling course in Madison. After reading this you will see why I HAD to train for this race with these women. They are amazing. Enjoy!
This Morning: approximately 8:29 a.m.
Hey Tri Women!
I just swam the distance again and I feel great....the time was 1:41...certainly not as fast as you water cheetahs but well w/in the cut off time. Then I got home to read the power point Meg sent....SO GREAT! That was very useful. Useful in the sense that now I am scared out of my granny panties. Jesus mother. How is an amateur cyclist like myself going to get through things as challenging as what is described?? What have I gotten myself into. To date this is the most fear I have felt about this race. OMG. Gulp.
Advice welcome!
hugs all around!
JJ
Response: This afternoon 1:46 p.m.
This Morning: approximately 8:29 a.m.
Hey Tri Women!
I just swam the distance again and I feel great....the time was 1:41...certainly not as fast as you water cheetahs but well w/in the cut off time. Then I got home to read the power point Meg sent....SO GREAT! That was very useful. Useful in the sense that now I am scared out of my granny panties. Jesus mother. How is an amateur cyclist like myself going to get through things as challenging as what is described?? What have I gotten myself into. To date this is the most fear I have felt about this race. OMG. Gulp.
Advice welcome!
hugs all around!
JJ
Response: This afternoon 1:46 p.m.
Dear Scaredy Granny Pants-
Once upon a time there was a girl we shall call.....Jackie. Jackie was a couch potato with visions of not just sugar plum dancing in her head but also an athletic, finely tuned body that had long since gone the way of too many cookies. Anyway, Jackie said to herself...."self, I think I shall do this ride they call RAGBRAI (in lay terms the Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa)." Now, many a rider had taken on this feat....usually with some training. Jackie said, "nyah training is too hard, too sweaty. I shall be able to do this ride because I love Iowa and pork chops." So, Jackie and her two friends the Bad Idea Bears.....went off to Iowa....where they met with a week of heat, humidity, and hills (H3). Sometimes they had to ride up to 80 miles a day....and contrary to popular belief....Iowa ain't flat!
Well, many might have thought Jackie would perish under the stress of the H3's....but no, she just rode steadily and each day she finished, just to drink beer and wake up and do another ride. She got to dip her tire in the Great Mississippi River and call herself a RAGBRAI finisher (two times even).
The moral of this story is: You can fucking do this. You have done the training. You conquered the clay in our yard to create pathways. You are teacher of the year. You are a woman who left her husband, came out, lost her friends, seduced the hottie Trina, and started a new life. You are fucking Wonder Woman. You do not have to be a "professional" cyclist to do this ride. It is fine.....some rollers, some hills...it will be hard, but you can and will do this. We know this because Jackie did RAGBRAI (twice) and if she can do RAGBRAI twice.....Wonder Woman can do Madison once.
1:40 is a great time! Nice job.
love you much. i really am not minizing your concerns.....because I myself have felt scared this week.....but, Meg and I have done enough riding to know that what matters is the continuation of forward motion. You can do this....continue moving forward.
And, when in doubt remember our good friend Jackie....the couch potato who could.
See....they're amazing. And now I'm not scared. CURED! BRING ON THE IRONMAN! WHOOO HOOO. I am the little diesel who could....or I am the wonder woman who could...that's even better. Double WHOOOO HOOOOO.
See....they're amazing. And now I'm not scared. CURED! BRING ON THE IRONMAN! WHOOO HOOO. I am the little diesel who could....or I am the wonder woman who could...that's even better. Double WHOOOO HOOOOO.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
42 days and counting...oh dear lord
I have earned myself a new name. I am the diesel. I am not fast. I am not slick. I am not competitive or even athletic. I am, however, determined, steadfast and diligent. When the going gets tough and the tough get goin'...I put my head down and push through, slowly, and without reservation. I am the diesel.
Today we rode our longest ride yet,80 miles and it was terrific. We rode the country roads nearly to Corvallis, Oregon (my second home, sigh), and they were FLAT. This was the first flat long ride we have taken in our training so far and it was fabulous. It was good to ride hard and long with my head in the game. I learned how to be steady psychologically (b/c as many of you know I am often unsteady psychologically) and resist the effects of monotony. It was great.
I am keenly aware that this training process is simultaneously reaching the apex and the end. The race is in 42 days and I can acutely remember the sting of starting this journey and counting the months left of training. I am excited and I am nervous. I am joyous and I am scared. I relish the thoughts of accomplishing this goal. I revel in the fantasy of staying up late and sleeping past 6 a.m. But I have also become so accustomed to regularity and dependability of this pace. My love for predictability and routine has been so thoroughly rienforced by this process....I can hardly remember what it was like before training. Did I have friends? Did I eat out? Did I see movies? I feel like Jennifer-Who...a femmy queer girl who has lost all memory of her life prior to Ironman (a syndrome commonly known as Iron-mysia). I will have to meet and learn to know myself all over again.
Thankfully I have 42 days. 42 days of training, scheduled and focused eating, planned sleeping, hydration, discussion, event planning, travel planning, bike planning....I have 42 days of planning ahead. And thank god....b/c apparently I am just not ready to let go. Who knew, at the start of all of this, that I would come to be thankful for the workouts, the sweat, the many, many showers a day (I'm a femme and it takes showers and product to make me me) and the routine of 20 hours of weekly training. I can't wait until tomorrow....thank god, it's a rest day.
For those of you following these posts (god bless you...especially after my last post), thank you for your support. Without you I would be a lonely blogger. Without you I would have no one to whine to...no one to celebrate with. You have all inspired me in some way or another and in long rides and runs like those I've had this weekend, I think of you. I think of the funny things you have said, the not so funny things I have said, the crazy things we have done (Jen....the night of G and T's and YouTubing inappropriate stuff) and the strength that each of you have shared with me. I look forward to sharing more (hopefully not nearly as much as I did in my post last week....I think I was dehydrated and lost all sense of SOCIAL GRACE!) and learning more from you all. THANK YOU. I promise to swim, ride and run in your honor (it's easier this way....you don't have to train...unless your name is Jen, Meg or Trina...in which case what are you doing still reading?? Shouldn't you be running or riding or swimming or eating or showering????).
Big Hugs!
PS: All this training makes me so 'i love you man'.
PPS: ONLY 42 DAYS!!! DID YOU READ THAT???OMG, I'M SO EXCITED!!!!
Today we rode our longest ride yet,80 miles and it was terrific. We rode the country roads nearly to Corvallis, Oregon (my second home, sigh), and they were FLAT. This was the first flat long ride we have taken in our training so far and it was fabulous. It was good to ride hard and long with my head in the game. I learned how to be steady psychologically (b/c as many of you know I am often unsteady psychologically) and resist the effects of monotony. It was great.
I am keenly aware that this training process is simultaneously reaching the apex and the end. The race is in 42 days and I can acutely remember the sting of starting this journey and counting the months left of training. I am excited and I am nervous. I am joyous and I am scared. I relish the thoughts of accomplishing this goal. I revel in the fantasy of staying up late and sleeping past 6 a.m. But I have also become so accustomed to regularity and dependability of this pace. My love for predictability and routine has been so thoroughly rienforced by this process....I can hardly remember what it was like before training. Did I have friends? Did I eat out? Did I see movies? I feel like Jennifer-Who...a femmy queer girl who has lost all memory of her life prior to Ironman (a syndrome commonly known as Iron-mysia). I will have to meet and learn to know myself all over again.
Thankfully I have 42 days. 42 days of training, scheduled and focused eating, planned sleeping, hydration, discussion, event planning, travel planning, bike planning....I have 42 days of planning ahead. And thank god....b/c apparently I am just not ready to let go. Who knew, at the start of all of this, that I would come to be thankful for the workouts, the sweat, the many, many showers a day (I'm a femme and it takes showers and product to make me me) and the routine of 20 hours of weekly training. I can't wait until tomorrow....thank god, it's a rest day.
For those of you following these posts (god bless you...especially after my last post), thank you for your support. Without you I would be a lonely blogger. Without you I would have no one to whine to...no one to celebrate with. You have all inspired me in some way or another and in long rides and runs like those I've had this weekend, I think of you. I think of the funny things you have said, the not so funny things I have said, the crazy things we have done (Jen....the night of G and T's and YouTubing inappropriate stuff) and the strength that each of you have shared with me. I look forward to sharing more (hopefully not nearly as much as I did in my post last week....I think I was dehydrated and lost all sense of SOCIAL GRACE!) and learning more from you all. THANK YOU. I promise to swim, ride and run in your honor (it's easier this way....you don't have to train...unless your name is Jen, Meg or Trina...in which case what are you doing still reading?? Shouldn't you be running or riding or swimming or eating or showering????).
Big Hugs!
PS: All this training makes me so 'i love you man'.
PPS: ONLY 42 DAYS!!! DID YOU READ THAT???OMG, I'M SO EXCITED!!!!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The best laid plans and good intentions
One of the most profound lessons that I am learning in the training process is to trust. Trust my intuition. Trust the training. Trust my gut. When something seems off (off like the smell of bad milk)....it probably is. When something feels wrong deep in my soul (wrong like showing up to ironman without having trained) ...it probably is. And yet, despite my gut, despite the intuition that we were NOT to venture deep into our training over the weekend, we persisted and ended up once in a taxi and once deeply indebted to a friend with a truck. Thank the gods that we have a friend with a truck (three cheers for Lois!). But let me begin at the beginning....where all long rides and runs in the dog days of summer start....the wee hours of the morning.
Saturday morning I woke with a deep sense of dread for our (seemingly short) 70 mile ride. We dressed, ate, and then I climbed back into bed whining in my best 4-year old voice all the reasons I couldn't ride. Alas, we mounted Pepper and Tula (sounds like 'toola') for our ride. A mere five miles in Trina realized that her brakes were wonky (for your non-cyclists this is the very technical term for f-ed up). So we called our 'experts' (Jen and Meg!!!) who suggested that we have the mechanic look it over before trecking out onto a long hilly ride. As the cool morning hours were ticking away we realized that we needed to kick it into high gear (another very specialized cycling term) if we were going to get a long workout in. We decided that our bad luck with cycling should not be pushed any further and we took off on an 18 mile run.
Fluids, gu, and iPod in hand we laced up and took off. My deep sense of dread began again and I started looking for signs....signs that I could go home and crawl back into bed. Looking back I realize that there were signs...like a good friend of ours with a blown out tire on the road as we ran by, and the nauseating cramping deep in my abdomen, but apparently such signs are wasted on me, b/c we kept running...I looking for the sign.
About 7 miles in my belly began to rumble. For those non runners out there this is NOT a good sign for me. Usually this sort of tummy rumble leads to serious (and humiliating) tummy trouble. And so it began...the regular (every 2 mile) emergency bathroom stop at any public restroom available. My ass was like a faucet....enough said. Then, as if this collection of signs weren't enough (sorry men reading this) we both began to cramp and well, menstruate (I thought by using the clinical term it might come off less personal, instead now I just feel like a demonstration in middle school health class). By 10 miles we were a mess. I think this was the sign, but we persevered. At mile 11 we stopped for water and food (anything to please stop the faucet!!!!). By 11.75 we were desperate. At 12 miles we found an ATM (thank you Trina for always being a good boy scout and having ID and debit cards handy!!!). Trina got cash and proclaimed (really she did) that we would be taking a cab home. I laughed and in my very sassy-snarkish way said, 'baby this is not the city, where are we going to find a cab'. She was quiet for about 2 seconds and then said 'right there', and pointed to the cab sitting in the parking lot 10 feet from my sprawling body. That sort of thing is the story of my life...smartass comments and then very practical obvious truths. It really steals the punchline.
And so, we took our cab home. Best $12 ever spent.
Sunday, we woke with a steadfast commitment to our 70 mile ride. It was the kind of commitment one might have to say enjoying a buffet in Las Vegas, or to happy hour on Fridays (this is serious commitment people). Just like deja vu we mounted Pepper and Tula at 10 a.m. fully stocked with fluids, gu and all other kinds of 'fake' foods. 10 miles later Trina got a flat. All smiles and jokes we laughed it off, spent 30 minutes changing her tire (it was our first!) and returned to the rode. Two miles and one porta potty later (I stop every time I see one....you never know when the chance to go will present itself!), Trina's tire blew, AGAIN. Out of tubes and patience we phoned a friend (we attempted to poll the audience but those cows are so darn tight lipped!) Thank god for Lois, our fabulous friend with the truck. While Trina suggested that we try getting the tube replaced, the shops around town were closed and frankly, I was out of 'commitment' to the weekend of long workouts. And so we ate. And we laughed and we ate. Sometimes we just can't do what the schedule tells us to. Sometimes we have to follow the signs. :)
While our training partners bust through miles and miles of training (we love them!), we are renewing our commitment to the process. This week is a new week. This week we will SUCCESSFULLY achieve all of our goals and miles. This week we will be ironwomen! Oh, and by the way, don't tell anyone about that 'ass was a faucet' thing....it's so embarrassing.
6.5 weeks to Madison. Oh dear god.
Saturday morning I woke with a deep sense of dread for our (seemingly short) 70 mile ride. We dressed, ate, and then I climbed back into bed whining in my best 4-year old voice all the reasons I couldn't ride. Alas, we mounted Pepper and Tula (sounds like 'toola') for our ride. A mere five miles in Trina realized that her brakes were wonky (for your non-cyclists this is the very technical term for f-ed up). So we called our 'experts' (Jen and Meg!!!) who suggested that we have the mechanic look it over before trecking out onto a long hilly ride. As the cool morning hours were ticking away we realized that we needed to kick it into high gear (another very specialized cycling term) if we were going to get a long workout in. We decided that our bad luck with cycling should not be pushed any further and we took off on an 18 mile run.
Fluids, gu, and iPod in hand we laced up and took off. My deep sense of dread began again and I started looking for signs....signs that I could go home and crawl back into bed. Looking back I realize that there were signs...like a good friend of ours with a blown out tire on the road as we ran by, and the nauseating cramping deep in my abdomen, but apparently such signs are wasted on me, b/c we kept running...I looking for the sign.
About 7 miles in my belly began to rumble. For those non runners out there this is NOT a good sign for me. Usually this sort of tummy rumble leads to serious (and humiliating) tummy trouble. And so it began...the regular (every 2 mile) emergency bathroom stop at any public restroom available. My ass was like a faucet....enough said. Then, as if this collection of signs weren't enough (sorry men reading this) we both began to cramp and well, menstruate (I thought by using the clinical term it might come off less personal, instead now I just feel like a demonstration in middle school health class). By 10 miles we were a mess. I think this was the sign, but we persevered. At mile 11 we stopped for water and food (anything to please stop the faucet!!!!). By 11.75 we were desperate. At 12 miles we found an ATM (thank you Trina for always being a good boy scout and having ID and debit cards handy!!!). Trina got cash and proclaimed (really she did) that we would be taking a cab home. I laughed and in my very sassy-snarkish way said, 'baby this is not the city, where are we going to find a cab'. She was quiet for about 2 seconds and then said 'right there', and pointed to the cab sitting in the parking lot 10 feet from my sprawling body. That sort of thing is the story of my life...smartass comments and then very practical obvious truths. It really steals the punchline.
And so, we took our cab home. Best $12 ever spent.
Sunday, we woke with a steadfast commitment to our 70 mile ride. It was the kind of commitment one might have to say enjoying a buffet in Las Vegas, or to happy hour on Fridays (this is serious commitment people). Just like deja vu we mounted Pepper and Tula at 10 a.m. fully stocked with fluids, gu and all other kinds of 'fake' foods. 10 miles later Trina got a flat. All smiles and jokes we laughed it off, spent 30 minutes changing her tire (it was our first!) and returned to the rode. Two miles and one porta potty later (I stop every time I see one....you never know when the chance to go will present itself!), Trina's tire blew, AGAIN. Out of tubes and patience we phoned a friend (we attempted to poll the audience but those cows are so darn tight lipped!) Thank god for Lois, our fabulous friend with the truck. While Trina suggested that we try getting the tube replaced, the shops around town were closed and frankly, I was out of 'commitment' to the weekend of long workouts. And so we ate. And we laughed and we ate. Sometimes we just can't do what the schedule tells us to. Sometimes we have to follow the signs. :)
While our training partners bust through miles and miles of training (we love them!), we are renewing our commitment to the process. This week is a new week. This week we will SUCCESSFULLY achieve all of our goals and miles. This week we will be ironwomen! Oh, and by the way, don't tell anyone about that 'ass was a faucet' thing....it's so embarrassing.
6.5 weeks to Madison. Oh dear god.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Seattle to Portland...merely a training ride: In three parts
Part I: The Ride
Meg and I rode (with our friend Meghan...see side bar) the STP in a day. This is a ride from Seattle to Portland and folks can do it in one day or two. We opted for the one-day version, a total of 205 miles...twice as long as my furthest ride and quite possibly my longest workout ever...perhaps with the exception of ultimate frisbee tournaments. But frisbee tournaments are always punctuated with short breaks, slamming oranges and bagels, and smoking pot, so the two really don't compare unless you count the pot part. I'm kidding...I never ate the bagels.
Anyway, there was no pot...we were definitely feeling the pain, after mile 150 anyway. Up till then, Meg, Meghan, and I were just zipping along (avg. 17.0 mph for the entire 205). We felt good, we took turns leading our pace line of 3 and joining on to others. It was really fun and great to be riding with two women who are competitive with themselves but are not about beating others. Just great! Meghan is a hell of a climber...kicking our asses up every hill. Meg is rock steady and is truly the energizer bunny....in fact I think she is still riding between the two cities. I'm not clear why...but I felt like a mother hen protectively watching over my chicks...sometimes riding in the back of the pace line to make sure all was well...that and that I got the best drafts of the day.
I joke, but I really did want to make sure my besties were not being hit by all the riders (sorry fellas...but mostly you guys) who would pass within inches without so much as a chortle. ON YOUR LEFT....say it with me boys...three little words that could mean the difference between a great day riding and a traumatic head injury. I see you all Lance-Armstrong-wanna-live-strong-and-be-like-mike-boys trying to win a ride that a) is not a race; and b) did I mention it wasn't a race? But really to what end are you passing so closely and saying so little?
We rode strong and finished strong...if a bit snarky and a tad nauseated. But, 205 miles in one day....that my friends is 93 more miles than race day. I feel a distinct psychological advantage!
Part 2: Lessons from the Road
1. We learned something about our need for better hydration...but we aren't sure what we learned
2. Chamois butter (aka butt balm) is an ointment of the gods
3. Training for the event is better than not training for the event
4. 4 hours of sleep for 4 nights in succession may have a biblical ring, but it makes for a long ass bike ride
5. Chip seal sucks
6. Real food is better than fake food
7. 205 miles is 130 miles further than anyone really needs to ride in a given period of time
8. We are rockstars
9. The STP really only needs to be done once ever
10. We googled it (not from the road....but we thought about it there)....people actually compete in things called Enduroman competitions....these are Ironman x 2 or 3!! Seriously...look it up.
Part 3: Jen gets on her social justice soap box...again
Enough of the complaints....at least about the riders. I'm unclear as to why...but there is an ongoing conflict...war is too strong...perhaps an ongoing "police action" between cyclists and motorists....as if the two are mutually exclusive. I don't know about you, but I also use a car as do the majority of cyclists. There are some folks who do not...and bravo to you I say! Anyway, most of us cross-over and can really relate to the frustrations of sharing the road from both points of view. When I'm driving...I sometimes don't see the cyclists at night...or if they run a stop sign or if they are just doing everything right and are in the bike lane. Then...when I don't see them and I nearly hit them I feel scared and want to lash out...at them...as if it is their fault that I nearly killed them. When really, I didn't see them and am blaming them for my mis-step. Bad form, Jen.
When I'm a cyclist...I couldn't be more irritated with the honking, the yelling, the gestures, the fake "loss-of-control-and-now-i'm-in-your-path," the speeding, the opening of car doors to scare you, the not seeing you and then blaming you for not seeing you. These things bother me. So you see...I understand the tensions...but really, is there a need for a battle of the roads? Can't we share? With the price of gasoline bicycles will soon be all any of us can afford anyway.
To add insult to injury...some (a small minority) of young white men seem to think it is their right, ethical duty, job even, to yell obscenities and threats at women cyclists. These are the same characters who likely feel that women's bodies are theirs for consumption. And, sometimes they combine the two beliefs and yell things like, "I can see why you are riding a bike fat ass" (white male yahoo as conveyed to me on STP, 2009).
Now as my partner said...this is a bit like going to the Ironman and yelling at the women competitors..."You should be swimming, biking, and running you fat ass." Doesn't make much sense now does it? Let's see....I'm swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112, then running a marathon and you are doing?? Oh that's right...NOTHING.
But, it doesn't stop the sting to have critical consciousness and an ability to outhink the yahoos, and some seriously snarky comments, does it? No...the sting of that sexism and the women-body-hating misogyny is no less...because the targets of forms of oppression end up doing some of the oppressor's heavy-lifting...by internalizing the narratives. I've written on this before....and you know that I am the owner of 38 years of anti-women's bodies narratives....all of which I resist and attempt to overthrow....and then a yahoo yells at me, and I am a pudgy 12 year-old believing that her very physical existence is an assault on what women "should be." And, I even hate that pudgy 12 year old, and then I feel guilty for hating her, and then I hate myself for hating myself, and then I hate myself for hating myself for hating myself...and the spiral continues until my head explodes.
When this kind of stuff goes down it makes me want to hole up in the house with my girls and listen to Free to Be You and Me until...you guessed it...my head explodes. That the yahoos of the world can still reduce me to a pudgy 12 year old who didn't deserve the shit she got in the first place...first pisses me off, then just saddens me. She was a cool kid...a smart kid...a great athlete who struck out all of those boys who called her names and had a hanging jump shot by the time she was 14. My body has worked for me...and it did again on Saturday and it will again on September 7th.
To all the yahoos: My body is not yours to consume for so many reasons...but mostly because you can't f*cking catch me!
Meg and I rode (with our friend Meghan...see side bar) the STP in a day. This is a ride from Seattle to Portland and folks can do it in one day or two. We opted for the one-day version, a total of 205 miles...twice as long as my furthest ride and quite possibly my longest workout ever...perhaps with the exception of ultimate frisbee tournaments. But frisbee tournaments are always punctuated with short breaks, slamming oranges and bagels, and smoking pot, so the two really don't compare unless you count the pot part. I'm kidding...I never ate the bagels.
Anyway, there was no pot...we were definitely feeling the pain, after mile 150 anyway. Up till then, Meg, Meghan, and I were just zipping along (avg. 17.0 mph for the entire 205). We felt good, we took turns leading our pace line of 3 and joining on to others. It was really fun and great to be riding with two women who are competitive with themselves but are not about beating others. Just great! Meghan is a hell of a climber...kicking our asses up every hill. Meg is rock steady and is truly the energizer bunny....in fact I think she is still riding between the two cities. I'm not clear why...but I felt like a mother hen protectively watching over my chicks...sometimes riding in the back of the pace line to make sure all was well...that and that I got the best drafts of the day.
I joke, but I really did want to make sure my besties were not being hit by all the riders (sorry fellas...but mostly you guys) who would pass within inches without so much as a chortle. ON YOUR LEFT....say it with me boys...three little words that could mean the difference between a great day riding and a traumatic head injury. I see you all Lance-Armstrong-wanna-live-strong-and-be-like-mike-boys trying to win a ride that a) is not a race; and b) did I mention it wasn't a race? But really to what end are you passing so closely and saying so little?
We rode strong and finished strong...if a bit snarky and a tad nauseated. But, 205 miles in one day....that my friends is 93 more miles than race day. I feel a distinct psychological advantage!
Part 2: Lessons from the Road
1. We learned something about our need for better hydration...but we aren't sure what we learned
2. Chamois butter (aka butt balm) is an ointment of the gods
3. Training for the event is better than not training for the event
4. 4 hours of sleep for 4 nights in succession may have a biblical ring, but it makes for a long ass bike ride
5. Chip seal sucks
6. Real food is better than fake food
7. 205 miles is 130 miles further than anyone really needs to ride in a given period of time
8. We are rockstars
9. The STP really only needs to be done once ever
10. We googled it (not from the road....but we thought about it there)....people actually compete in things called Enduroman competitions....these are Ironman x 2 or 3!! Seriously...look it up.
Part 3: Jen gets on her social justice soap box...again
Enough of the complaints....at least about the riders. I'm unclear as to why...but there is an ongoing conflict...war is too strong...perhaps an ongoing "police action" between cyclists and motorists....as if the two are mutually exclusive. I don't know about you, but I also use a car as do the majority of cyclists. There are some folks who do not...and bravo to you I say! Anyway, most of us cross-over and can really relate to the frustrations of sharing the road from both points of view. When I'm driving...I sometimes don't see the cyclists at night...or if they run a stop sign or if they are just doing everything right and are in the bike lane. Then...when I don't see them and I nearly hit them I feel scared and want to lash out...at them...as if it is their fault that I nearly killed them. When really, I didn't see them and am blaming them for my mis-step. Bad form, Jen.
When I'm a cyclist...I couldn't be more irritated with the honking, the yelling, the gestures, the fake "loss-of-control-and-now-i'm-in-your-path," the speeding, the opening of car doors to scare you, the not seeing you and then blaming you for not seeing you. These things bother me. So you see...I understand the tensions...but really, is there a need for a battle of the roads? Can't we share? With the price of gasoline bicycles will soon be all any of us can afford anyway.
To add insult to injury...some (a small minority) of young white men seem to think it is their right, ethical duty, job even, to yell obscenities and threats at women cyclists. These are the same characters who likely feel that women's bodies are theirs for consumption. And, sometimes they combine the two beliefs and yell things like, "I can see why you are riding a bike fat ass" (white male yahoo as conveyed to me on STP, 2009).
Now as my partner said...this is a bit like going to the Ironman and yelling at the women competitors..."You should be swimming, biking, and running you fat ass." Doesn't make much sense now does it? Let's see....I'm swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112, then running a marathon and you are doing?? Oh that's right...NOTHING.
But, it doesn't stop the sting to have critical consciousness and an ability to outhink the yahoos, and some seriously snarky comments, does it? No...the sting of that sexism and the women-body-hating misogyny is no less...because the targets of forms of oppression end up doing some of the oppressor's heavy-lifting...by internalizing the narratives. I've written on this before....and you know that I am the owner of 38 years of anti-women's bodies narratives....all of which I resist and attempt to overthrow....and then a yahoo yells at me, and I am a pudgy 12 year-old believing that her very physical existence is an assault on what women "should be." And, I even hate that pudgy 12 year old, and then I feel guilty for hating her, and then I hate myself for hating myself, and then I hate myself for hating myself for hating myself...and the spiral continues until my head explodes.
When this kind of stuff goes down it makes me want to hole up in the house with my girls and listen to Free to Be You and Me until...you guessed it...my head explodes. That the yahoos of the world can still reduce me to a pudgy 12 year old who didn't deserve the shit she got in the first place...first pisses me off, then just saddens me. She was a cool kid...a smart kid...a great athlete who struck out all of those boys who called her names and had a hanging jump shot by the time she was 14. My body has worked for me...and it did again on Saturday and it will again on September 7th.
To all the yahoos: My body is not yours to consume for so many reasons...but mostly because you can't f*cking catch me!
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