I Love the Smell of Neoprene in the Morning

Fact: Your body can go much further than your mind will usually let you.

Fact: A month and a half of real training is still not enough time to train for a 70.3 race.

Fact: My dad snores REALLY loud.

Well...the end of the triathlon season has come and gone...and it doesn't really feel like there's going to be any closure. No celebration. No special treat. Nothing of the kind. At least not now. In many ways, the "end" of the season is really just another training weekend, and a good way to point out just how far I have to go.

Today is November 15. Four months and one day ago, I had surgery. And 2 weeks after that, I got the joy of completely starting over on training. One week after that, I started traveling for work, which greatly inhibited my ability to train...both mentally and logistically. Then, once I actually started living at home again...I renewed my commitment to training...and have actually (finally) done quite a good job of keeping to my training schedule.

But anyway...

Pre-race:

This would be my dad's first race as my sherpa...so I was really excited to be able to share this with him. Over the past year and a half, my parents have been able to see what triathlon has done for me personally...and now my dad was going to be able to see it up close and personal. So my dad gets to DC on Wednesday evening...and Thursday morning we head to Wilmington. After several hours on the road, and a couple of last minute, tire screeching exits...I banish my dad from driving and more that day...and we eventually get to the hotel in one piece.

On Friday...we sleep in...well...kind of. I actually woke up around 4am...and couldn't get back to sleep because my dad was snoring loud enough, I couldn't block out the sound. But eventually...I get a bit more sleep. Then we head to do all of the fun pre-race stuff...like packet pick up and the pre-race meeting. After I had picked up my packet...I ran into Chris Wren...and chatted for a bit about water temps...and he told me that if I had the chance...I should get in the water because he hyperventilated for a couple of minutes when he first got in. This was slightly un-nerving. But I figure cold water is cold water...and there's nothing I can do to change that right now. So...pre-race meeting...the only notable thing I'll mention is my favorite quote of the weekend...in regards to exiting the water and the warm clean water showers...and the need to pay special attention to the...ahem...crotchel areas. Actual quote.

Post pre-race meeting...we head back to the hotel (and our second meal at Chick-Fil-A) so I could get all of my transition bags together. Which I do...and then dad and I head off to drop off my bike. It wasn't until this point that dad I really realized the logistical nightmare of the point to point race. But we survived...and my bike got to the appropriate place. And my dad survived dinner with all of you crazy Z people.

Race Morning:

The way my race jitters work...I'm a "lets get there ridiculously early as opposed to possibly being late" type of person. So that's what we did. And after I dropped off my transition bag...my dad asked if I wanted to sit in the car for a while to warm back up...which I obviously did. But when it was time to meet the rest of the team...I bared the cold...and headed to body marking. I lovingly told the guy that did my marking that "no offense...but you're going to be my least favorite person today."

So...we're all standing around. Shivering. And Mark gets this fabulous idea to just put my wetsuit on...and that will keep me warm. I didn't think it sounded like a terrible idea. Until 30 seconds later when I was struggling to get my stupendously long legs into said wetsuit. This would not be the stupendously long leg + wetsuit combination would pose a problem that day.

Once we got through the hurry up and wait...we all waddled to the the shuttles, and headed to the swim start...and once again got to hurry up and wait. We did get to see the Coast Guard piss off some full iron swimmers...but all for a good cause of rescuing another swimmer. And then it was FINALLY our turn to swim. I, for once, wasn't overly nervous about the swim. I've had some good swims lately...so I figured I wouldn't die.

What I really wasn't prepared for was how disgusting the salt water was going to be. Needless to say...it was gross...and ended up with some nausea. But the swim ended up going really well. Especially compared to my half swim at Kinetic in May...where I just about collapsed on the beach. So I have definitely come a long way since then. Who knew actually doing some strength training would help?

So I make it out of the water up the ladder...and over to the wet suit strippers...and my reaction (including eyes rolling about in my head) was..."HOLY SHIT!" So I get up...and attempt to start moving toward transition. And I realize that something is a little weird. Those things at the end of my feet...well...I'm not really sure they're there any more. So...literally everything that wasn't covered by neoprene...which because of those stupid, stupendously long legs...is about half way up my shins. So running...err...walking was a little difficult. But I finally start moving a little bit...and running actually doesn't feel too bad..when I'm not trying to trip and fall on my face.

Side note. I looked at the pictures my dad took during the race. He is now banned from ever taking race pictures EVER AGAIN! Me, half-naked, wet, and running is not as aesthetically pleasing as one might imagine. I have photographic proof this is true.

So I get into the changing tent...and take longer that I had probably initially imagined...mainly because I had to warm my feet up before I could, or would, get on my bike. So...I was on my bike. I actually saw my dad. Told him I couldn't feel my feet. And started off on the longest few hours of my life. Getting on the road...and getting passed by so many people...and realizing how slow I was...there was an array of thoughts going through my head. One of the main points was that I have such a great hope that one day I'm not going to suck at this...but clearly...I do...so why is it again that I'm doing this? I'm NEVER going to be able to do this. Well...there wasn't much room for that kind of a thought. Because it got much worse. Quickly.

After passing a few guys that were actually having a worse day than me. Including the guy with the broken clavicle. I realized something wasn't right. I'd try to shift...and my bike wouldn't shift. I'd shift again...it would jump 4 gears. For someone that is already uncomfortable on a bike...this was not a comforting feeling. But I continued on. Until the whole lack of shifting thing really started becoming a problem. I was devastated. I thought my day was over. On one hand I was almost relieved...but I didn't want to quit. This was actually eye opening for me. I was sitting on the side of the road waiting for the bike mechanic...and thought I was done. And realized that I really wanted to continue. So the bike guys get there. Compliment my bike choice. And in 2 minutes...my bike was fixed. When he held up my bike and said "there you go" I was shocked. I think my eyes bugged out of my head. My day wasn't over! Yet. So I continued on.

Not long after that...I realized that all of my mechanical problems were not over yet. I was having some major problems switching from the small ring to the big ring. Awesome. This makes going down hill REALLY fun. But I was still working with it. I had taken a couple of rest breaks...which helped my muscles relax...but it got the the point where taking a break wasn't giving me any relief from the pain. I had a nice little cry. It was actually a very emotional time for me. I didn't want to quit...but I was in so much pain I just didn't see how I could continue. Once I made the turn off of 421...and saw the sign for mile 30...and I nearly cried. I'd made it over half way through the bike leg. But the further I got...the more pain I was in. Oh...and I got passed by the sweep vehicle. That's not a very comforting thing. When it came to the turn where the half course splits from the full course. I turned into a parking lot and I broke down. Hard core. One of the Sag vehicles pulled in with me...and they tried to comfort me...and get me to eat and drink (which I knew wasn't the problem). And I was done. Just done. After a few minutes...we all got in the truck and headed back to the battleship.

I found my dad. Saw Ed. Cried some more. Ed told me not to give up...and when I told him it only made me want to work harder...that earned me a fist bump. I definitely needed a shower...because I was a little crusty all over. We decided to head back to the hotel. And I never made it back to cheer...because I passed out. Hard core. No joke. 2 days later...and I've slept a total of 19 hours since then. And I've even gone running. And aquaphored the appropriate places. And survived the long road trip home...including a stop at an awesome BBQ place. Let's just say Ralph knows how to make good BBQ.

So it's definitely going to be a long year. But I'm not going to give up just yet. :)

Race Jitters and Such...

Stupid athlete guide. If I hadn't found it while cleaning Friday evening...and then thought it was a good idea to look through it yesterday morning...I wouldn't be in the predicament that I'm in now.

Ok...so I would still be freaking out about the race...but since the athlete guide is what really set me off...I'm blaming that. Oh...if only I hadn't thought that it was a good idea to plan ahead and figure out what I'd need for next weekend.

Next weekend. And I say this with the most sincerity imaginable. Hooooo....lleeee.....shit.

What was I thinking? How could attempting to cross 70.3 miles in one day while swimming, biking, and running be a good idea. 4 months after surgery no less. Less than 2 months since I stopped traveling about the country for work.

This is a bad idea...and I'm an idiot. What kind of nerve do I have thinking that *I* could *possibly* be able to do this.

I've come to terms with the fact that realistically I really may not be able to finish. I did just have to start over working out 3 and a half months ago. And for 2 months after that, I didn't get to focus on working out like I should have been.

Never mind the fact that last weekend I ran 12 miles and spent 3 hours on my bike. Never mind the fact that I've had a couple (yes...only a couple) of good swim work outs. Never mind the fact that I've actually been able to tell a difference in my strength, and how some of my workouts are actually feeling good instead of making me feel like I'm dieing. Never mind the fact that all of the previous statements about my inability to do this goes through my head BEFORE EVERY FREAKING RACE!!

In the logical part of my mind, I see what's going on...I think. As I said, I have come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to finish all 70.3 miles. I'm going to get as far as I possibly can...and know that everything from this point forward is all getting me through next November.

The race jitters are something completely different. The race jitters don't make me think that I won't be able to finish. The race jitters make me think I won't be able to start. And I've specifically narrowed it down to where the problem lies. The bike. At least...that's what it's been for every triathlon I've ever come up to. Except maybe the race where I relayed and only did the bike. For some reason...I don't remember being very nervous before that. Huh.

Anyway...not the point. Right now...I'm looking at my new bike. He's gorgeous...and now that the fit is better...I'm sure it will be more comfortable. Especially now that my saddle isn't all wonky. But there's something about the bike leg in general that makes me freak out. But there's something about getting on the bike that just makes me ridiculously nervous...to the point where I don't want to go for a bike ride. And I have no clue why. Yes...I've crashed. But so have a lot of other people that get back in the saddle immediately. One way or another...over the next year...Cedric and I are going to have to come to terms. Somehow...we're going to need to figure out what the problem is...and fix it.

It very well could be that I'm just not comfortable because I haven't spend enough time actually riding. Which is very possible. Unfortunately...I live in the middle of DC...which makes me not want to ride because I value my life. And the traffic here scares the shit out of me even when I'm in a car. Let alone, out there for the world to slam into me and make me go flying.

During my bike fit on Wednesday...Ken told me that he wanted me to leave being absolutely comfortable on my bike. I didn't want to go into detail...but the thought crossed my mind that if he could really make me comfortable on my bike...I'd probably love him forever. And I'm not just talking about how he fixed my saddle fit my "stupendously long legs." Something makes me think I'm not there yet. Maybe when my new stem comes in.

And now that it's cold outside...that makes me want to go for a ride even less.

I hate being cold. I dealt with marathon training last year in the cold because marathon training on a treadmill would have killed me. And this year...I'm buying different clothes. Something that will not only keep me warm...but also block out the wind. That should help. But really...when it's cold outside, I want to curl up next to a fire with a cup of hot chocolate and read a book.

And preferably...I would like it to be that cold exactly once a year so I can get it out of my system...and then it can go back to 70 degree weather. Thankyouverymuch.

For all intents and purposes...I should hate swimming. I suck at swimming. No really, I do. I'm ridiculously slow, and every time I race...everything I have learned about form goes completely out the window...and I just try to survive any way possible. But I don't. I don't enjoy swimming when I'm tired...because I feel even more sluggish...so most days when I've had a long day at work...and I'm already really tired...I skip the pool. But I am committed to not stopping swimming all together this year over the winter like I did last year. I had gotten so much better by the end of the season last year...and then...again...had to start over. And I really don't hate swimming. It actually relaxes me in most cases. I think over the next year...as long as I keep up going to the pool...I'll be fine.

But now...back to the issue at hand. In the past...before every race that I've been this nervous...I've successfully crossed the finish line. And I've actually crossed in a rather ok form. But knowing that...still isn't going to help me this week. I foresee a long week...where I might be a little cranky...and will eventually be unable to pack. Part of me wants to hide in my apartment and not go anywhere or do anything. But I do know that that will do nothing for my race jitters, and the depression that will set in if I don't leave. Besides...I have to get out and go to work. And I am forcing myself to get out. I have to...or I will continue to go crazy.

One last thought before I completely kick myself in the ass and get going with my day (which actually started several hours ago). It's about the races where I haven't been nervous before...or just didn't really care about. Savageman last year...I thought "no big deal" before. And got my ass kicked hard. Giant Acorn this year...well...I haven't talked much about that...and my inability to finish that race. Part of me remembers that I was there to have fun...and finishing wouldn't have been fun. Part of me beats myself up thinking about how I quit. So...therefore...I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it. I probably should...but that is definitely for another time.