A Year in Review

Typically, I do my yearly reflection around my birthday, but considering I was peaking for Ironman training, among other things that kept my brain less than fully functioning, even if I had attempted to do anything like that, it wouldn't have been overly successful.  So, now at the end of the year, why not. 

I'm not one to make resolutions.  I never have been.  I don't need a holiday to celebrate something, and I don't need the end of a year to incite me to make any significant life changes.  But the fact that the end of the calendar year coincides with other events to lead me to make some changes is merely a coincidence.  I swear. 

In looking back over the past year, the first thing that comes to mind is...do I feel any different than I did a year ago?  Did anything major happen?  And my first instinct is to say...no.  I don't feel any different than I did a year ago.  But taking a step back, of course, the changes are there.  Was it really just a year ago that I was preparing to run 42.4 miles in the course of 3 days.  And a year ago, I was ramping up to my first Ironman. 

It's been a rough year.  Let's leave it at that, because re-hashing the failures of the past year isn't a positive thing in my head right now.  And would only cause more pain than they're worth.  But to say that I have learned things is obvious.  I've learned things about myself.  I've learned things about racing.  And beyond anything else, I have learned that being cold really sucks. 

But let's point out a few key positive points from the past year.

• I learned that I can, in fact, run 42.4 miles in the course of 3 days and survive.  When it comes to racing, this is definitely the highlight of the past year.  And I have a lot of bling as a result.  
• Not so much a learning experience as an overcoming experience...I started having fun riding my bike, and I lost some of the fear that having half of my face scraped off a couple of years ago gave me. 
• I have a long way to go, and an uphill battle all the way.  But I work best when I have tough circumstances to fight against, so I'm putting this in the positive column as well. 

In looking at the past,  I want to leave it there, in the past.  The rough training and racing days.  The thousands of airline miles I have accumulated over the past year, and none of it for a truly relaxing experience (except the one I'm nearing the end of right now).  The bad dates, and not really any good ones (bad just isn't nearly a good enough descriptor for some of the things I've experienced over the past year, but we don't have nearly enough time to re-hash all of that right now...nor should I need to).  The fun, the pain, the joy.  All of it.  Sometimes I really do just want to leave it all in the past.  Locked away for good, never to see the light of day ever again.

It isn't possible.  All of the experiences that I've had in the past go with me everywhere I go.  I can't let them weigh me down, as that would impede progress of any form.  But it's all back there, as a gentle reminder.  Some of it reminds me to work harder, no matter how tired, or cranky I am.  Some of it reminds me of the things I have overcome.  But it's all there.

So...what's next?  If I thought the past year was a big one, I think the upcoming year is going to be even bigger.  And hopefully better.  And I have goals, a lot of goals.  One of them is slightly dependent upon an email I'm supposed to receive on January 6, which could affect where I am 6 months from now.  But I'm still trying not to think about it too much (is that creating enough suspense?)  (It really shouldn't, just look at past posts)  I know that I want to get more comfortable in the water this year.  Not that I'm uncomfortable.  Ok, so I don't want to suck as badly at swimming.  And beyond that, there are race goals, personal goals, weight goals, everything.  But I'm hesitant to say I want to finish x amount of races before I can do y, and if I don't weigh z before then I'm going to be really upset with myself.  Nothing good can come from that.  I will do what I can do, and I will be as pleased with the result as I can be. 

Ok, so I finally want to finish a stupid Ironman.
I want to get into Law School.
And I really want to drop 30 (35?) pounds before all of that happens.

There.  I said it.  It's all out there in the open.  But one of the most important things that the past year has taught me is that you absolutely should set goals, and you may or may not accomplish them.  But it's what you do after that that is most important.  You can either lay down and quit, or you can get up and fight.  Fight for what you want.  Strive for what you want.  Figure out what you need to do to make it happen, whatever that may be.  But...Do. Not. Quit. 

I think it's obvious the path I have chosen. 

The Retirement Lifestyle

At the ripe old age of 30, I'm well on my way to becoming a full fledged snowbird.  Accidentally, of course.  It all started with my grandparents around 35 years ago.  They somehow heard of this community in the middle of Florida that was affiliated with the Free Methodist Church.  It was perfect for them.  It started off as a campground for retired folks, and over the past 50 years has blossomed into a somewhat normal retirement village.  And 30 years ago, my grandparents built a house.  As a child, it was a grand adventure for my family to visit my grandparents.  We were able to leave the cold of Middle America behind for a brief foray into the 80 degree sunniness that Florida tends to be in the middle of winter.  And it's a gated community, so my parents could kick my brother and I out of the house to play without fearing for our lives. 

When my grandparents passed away 10 years ago, my parents inherited the house, and thus the tradition of migrating South for the winter.  And because I needed a relatively cheap vacation getaway, I started visiting my parents while they were here, as they had visited my grandparents.  And as my parents realized when they picked me up from the airport Tuesday evening, this is at least my fifth year in a row that I have visited them here. 

Disclaimer, the previous two times that I visited here, I did just about the most anti-retirement thing possible.  I ran a marathon.  And a half.  So I think my days of having blue hair and driving 5 miles an hour are not in my immediate future. 

I think I truly started appreciating this place when I was in college.  And not just because it offered a very cheap housing option to 4 rather destitute college girls.  It's a place to relax.  It's incredibly quiet.  Safe.  And the biggest thing you have to worry about is my Grandpa's best friend coming to say hi at 10pm, wondering what we youngsters were up to.  And then the utter disappointment in his voice when we told him that we were going to bed.  Apparently, we were too boring for him because he was off to a friends house to play games. 

But that trip really defined what this place is to me.  It's a place to relax.  Where I can sit on the front porch reading a book, and waving to the neighbors as they go by.  A place with all of the comforts of home, without the cold weather of home.  A place where the clothes that I put in the dirty laundry bin magically turn up clean and folded on my bed.  It's the place where old men stand in the middle of the street solving all of the worlds problems  A place where I can help my dad hang Christmas lights while wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and go for an hour long bike ride and not break a sweat.

I have to say, I think I love it here. 

Taking a step back, and looking at things, I should hate it here.  It's a planned community (strike 1) in the middle of redneck country (strike 2) where you can go to the grocery store and see a man in a tank top (strike 3) with a tattoo on his left arm saying "white" and on his right a tattoo saying "pride" (strikes 4, 5, 6 and 7) (and maybe 8), and all around you see bubba trucks and Confederate flags (strikes 9 and 10).  With little to no cell phone service (we'll chalk that one up under the positive column for now).  And often I am the youngest person sitting at the table, by more than 20 years (most often, I am neutral on this one).  Outside the walls of this community, I should never visit here.  Nevermind the fact that it's 45 minutes from Disney World (positive column) and 45 minutes from the beach (negative, considering I hate the beach).  But aside from the fact that the actual town has way too many chain restaurants, it's not so bad.  Oh, and a really awesome tourist trap about 20 minutes away with the largest collection of antique planes in America (huge mark in the plus column, as I am a nerd and enjoy visiting places like that).  So, all in all, the area has enough positive features that I don't go insane. 

Plus, 80 degrees and sunny in the middle of December, yes please! 

I do think I would make a good retiree.  You don't really sleep in, but you don't set an alarm either.  You get up, and make coffee, without really needing to be in a rush about it.  Whenever you're hungry, you make breakfast, and read, and do whatever else you want.  And then, if the mood strikes you, you can take a bike ride, or go for a walk, or just sit around doing not much of anything because that's what you feel like doing.  You bake when you want to.  And you get to invite your friends over in the evenings to have dinner, or snacks, and play games.  (I totally cleaned up last night playing 5 Crowns, by the way). 

Actually, can't I just retire now? 

Oh, you say the minimum age requirement is 55? 

Damn, I guess I'll just have to wait another 25 years. 

I Admit It, I'm a Wuss

When it comes to being cold, only.  As previously mentioned, I have always been sensitive to cold weather.  Not that it stopped me from wearing flip flops in 40 degree weather.  Because I did on a regular basis. 

But now, not so much.  The whole hypothermia thing has definitely made me a wuss when it comes to being cold.  I've even been *gasp* willing to put socks on.  When I'm just hanging out in my apartment.  I overdress when I know I'm going to be outside for longer than 5 minutes.  I even brought a pair of gloves to wear at work because they keep our office somewhat colder than an icebox (at least that's what it feels like to me).  And I'm not even upset that I'll be missing a cold Christmas. 

This seems very strange to me.  But if it helps prevent hypothermia again in the future, I suppose I'm all for it. 

But that still doesn't mean I have to like wearing socks all the time.

The Healing Process

Ironman Arizona was 2 and a half weeks ago.  I've now been back to work (in my office) for a week.  Every day in the 2 and a half week, every single day, I've had to explain to someone what happened.  I have accepted what happened that day from the very beginning, in fact, probably before I actually missed the cut off, I had prepared myself for this.  And I also knew from the very beginning that I was going to have to tell people.  And that telling people was going to suck.  And I was fairly certain of the responses that I was going to get from people.  From my endurance athlete friends, they surpassed the anticipated support and comfort offered.  Occasionally, from my non-endurance athlete friends, you get the deer in the headlights look.  I've told them what happened, and they really didn't understand what I was doing in the first place, or what it really meant.  So then to hear that I wasn't successful is baffling to them.  They REALLY don't know what that means.  This is also, occasionally, amusing.  But far more frequently, it's frustrating.  I understand that people mean well when they ask about it.  But it's getting really freaking old.  How much longer am I going to have to answer this question?  Days, weeks...MONTHS??? 

In an attempt not to go bat-shit crazy, pull my hair out, or beat anyone who might ask me the dreaded question with a 2x4, I am instead using this as motivation.  Motivation in the form of "I never want to answer this question ever again, so I'm going to make sure I don't have to" type of motivation. 

I knew long before the race that I wanted and needed to take some time off.  Other than when I was recovering from surgery, I haven't really taken time off from working out, or at the very least, given myself permission to take time off...so I wouldn't feel guilty for not working out.  I gave myself 2 weeks, and then a week of transitional time (which we're currently in the middle of). 

The two weeks off were...somewhat fantastic.  I wasn't at home, which was fine.  I spent time with family, I ate pizza and cookies with great pleasure, and I had some very lovely wine.  I gained weight, and I knew at the time what I was eating was going to make that happen.  And I gave myself permission for that to be ok.  So what happened at the end of the two weeks?  I came back home, and felt like crap because I had been eating pizza, and other assorted yumminess and stepped on the scale.  My first thought was "huh, I didn't gain as much as expected."  Ok, so it was 4 pounds. 

I immediately got back on the wagon of eating healthy (except for one, well deserved evening where I consumed a mostly liquid dinner with two of my favorite people...and the following day where the fastest way to feel better was to eat some greasy food).  I even did my first official, structured work out this week.  And it felt great. 

So, at the moment, I'm feeling a bit of...what's next?  Where do I go from here?  Well, my winter goals of strength training and swimming are still at the top of the list.  And I need to make a more structured training schedule for myself.  Nothing super intensive, no two a day workouts.  Something manageable, but productive.  Any maybe throw in some stuff that isn't swimming, biking or running.  *gasp*  Maybe doing something else that  -

Sorry...my mind began to wander.  And I found myself incapable of finishing that sentence. It's purely to blame on sentence structure because I was thinking "other things that make you sweat" and in my head I was referring to cleaning my apartment (because mopping floors can be hard work).  And then I listened to my own sentence in my head.  And now I'm sure you're thinking it too. 

You're welcome :)

It's funny, one would think it's the physical trauma that your body needs the most recovery from.  And while your body does need rest, I often think/wonder if it's the mental recovery that takes longer.  I know I definitely need the time.  And I'm looking forward to checking off a few of things on my "when I have time, I should really..." list. 

Am I Positive?

Over the past week and a half, I haven't been able to write.  Ok, so I've been able to write, but I'll get half way through something, deem it crap, and discard it.  In the precise moment I let everyone know what happened at IMAZ, and subsequently wanted to be left the F*$^ alone...my friends and loved ones did the exact opposite.  I was immediately flooded with emails, text messages, comments, etc.  Turns out, what you all did was exactly what I needed.  [Side note: Thank you doesn't do it justice.  It really doesn't.  I'm still rather speechless about it all, so until better words are formed in my brain, thank you will just have to do.]

But the content of what everyone was saying to me shocked me just a little.  I still got called a rockstar.  And many people commented on my positive attitude.  In fact, one person mentioned the desire to bottle my positivity and hock it on QVC. 

Now, positive is not necessarily a word I would typically use to describe myself.  Being the formerly really fat girl with eating disorders has always bread more of a self doubt type of rational going on in my brain.  So, my insistence on not quitting until either 1) I got my chip pulled or 2) finishing isn't something I see as being positive.  I see it more as being stubborn.  And my willingness, in fact, insistence upon immediately trying again may have more to do with the fact that I'm 1) again, stubborn, and 2) already signed up for Cedar Point.  And in fact, internal positivity is something that I deemed worthy to add to my list of stuff to work on over the next year.  I can do this...I WILL do this.  You know, stuff like that. 

In fact, in the not to distant past, one person actually told me that I should be a more positive person and that way, more people will want to be around me. 

But what I will admit to is that over the past few years, I have gained an incredible amount of self-confidence.  There are always days where I feel fat and ugly and like I can't do anything.  Let me tell you, having taken two weeks off completely from working out and eating healthy has me feeling down in the dumps about myself a little bit.  Well, maybe not down in the dumps per se.  Frumpy.  I feel frumpy, and unattractive. 

But maybe, just maybe, I'm not frumpy and unattractive.  I was on a business trip this week for work, staying in the middle of no where in Iowa.  Ok, I was in Des Moines.  And most of Iowa should be considered the middle of no where.  Except for where this really adorable 19 month old lives.  After a long day of work, (and have I mentioned not only am I feeling frumpy, I am also sick with a cold.  Bonus points added to the I'm not so hot this week column) I walked into the lobby of my hotel.  And there was a huge group of guys.  And I'm a girl.  And I just walked in the room.  Every single pair of eyes in the room was on me.  My immediate reaction was to shyly put my head down and walk through the room as quickly as possible.  But then I remembered I was wearing my super cute new red heels.  And no one wearing super cute red heels should shyly put their head down and walk through a room filled with guys, whose attention is focused on me in that moment.  So I lifted my head, put my shoulders back a bit (ok, so I had on a backpack and my shoulders were already pretty much back) and walked through the room.  I may have even smiled.  Eat your heart out boys. 

In that precise moment, I made a pact with myself.  Don't shy away from the boys attention.  There will come a day when walking in to a room isn't going to turn heads, so you might as well enjoy it while you can. 

So where was I going with all of this?  Maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the line, I somehow became a rather positive person.  And gosh darn it, people like me.  You really like me.  And I can do anything that I set my mind to. 

Hypothermia Sucks

While this can't actually be called a "race report," (as so few of my reports can actually be called) we will, instead, call this an "event report."

Never in my life has one single event caused so many nightmares - true nightmares - including waking up in a panic, unable to breathe, and immediately checking to make sure that Cedric was still in one piece.  I even blame Ironman for several work inspired nightmares.  So, to say the least, I knew my subconscious was aware that this was a huge freaking deal.

(May I make a side note here that the coffee maker in our hotel is the slowest I have ever encountered?  Because it's ridiculously slow, and anything impeding the intake of coffee should be shot)

The last 24 hours have sucked.  There's no other way to describe it.  They sucked.  Big time.

I have always had a tendency to get cold extremely easy.  I literally turn purple in 60 degree weather if I'm not dressed appropriately.  And it is difficult, and often takes extreme measures for me to get warm again.  In fact, even since we have been in Arizona, I have been bundled up in warm clothes, and still feel the chill.  And it's been 70 degrees.  But even looking at other people in tank tops and shorts makes me shiver when I'm feeling chilled.  One would look at me and think that I have enough insulation that this wouldn't be a problem, but even when I weighed nearly 300 pounds, I still had this issue (though, admittedly, not as bad).  But my mom is often the same way, so I'm blaming her bad genes.

Knowing this, I knew that a 2.4 mile swim in 61 degree water was not going to be fun.  But I had survived a 1.2 miles swim in 63 degree weather less than 2 months ago.  I had neoprene booties, and a full wetsuit, so I was as prepared as I am going to be.  There is the option of a neoprene cap, but that has a chin strap, and my asthma often manifests in my throat, and having the extra constriction there is going to cause other problems.  Breathe and feel the cold even more, or not breathe and feel slightly less cold.  It's the Catch 22 of swimming in cold water.  Considering I've already had one asthma attack coming out of the water, I chose breathing as the higher priority for yesterday, and didn't even seriously consider the neoprene cap.  Looking back, had I, we'll never know.

So, I jump in the water yesterday morning, and get quite a shock.  The water if freezing cold, and feels much colder than 61 degrees.  So shocking, it makes me hyperventilate a little bit.  And as I'm "swimming" to the start (which really meant that I was doing a half assed job of a side stroke) I try to calm myself down, remind myself to take some deep breathes.  So I do, and that works.  But then I look up, and see the Team Z coaches.  Who surprised us by flying in for the race to support everyone.  So then I'm crying.  Ya bastards.  We yell back and forth, and wave.  And before we knew it, it was starting.

Leading up to the event, I reflected on past swims, and I often don't enjoy the swim.  I just can't wait to get out of the water.  It's not that I really don't like swimming, it's just that I kinda suck at it.  I don't have awful form, but I'm just slow.  But even with being slow, I had done the math, and if I were to swim my slowest average pace for the entire 2.4 miles (barring any unforeseen incident) I would still make it out of the water with plenty of time to spare.  So I really worked on having a conversation with myself (as I occasionally do when I need to really focus on something) and tried to remind myself to enjoy the swim.  Enjoy the entire day, but instead of being impatient with the swim, enjoy it.

The first half, this works.  I end up towards the back of the pack, which I expected to be there anyway, but, (woohoo!!) I wasn't there alone.  I actually rather enjoy the swim course for IMAZ.  It's a one loop course, starting under the Mill Ave. Bridge, down to Rural Rd. bridge, past it just a bit, then turn around and swim back.  Simple enough.  I get under the Rural Rd. bridge, and one of the kayakers tells me we're at 52 minutes, which means I'm right on pace.  But I swear, getting to the turn buoy, and then across the lake took FOREVER!  It was against the current, and it pissed me off a little.  So once I got to the turn buoy heading back down the lake, I stopped for a breather.  A few seconds later, and I was swimming again, thinking I was doing really good because now we were swimming with the current.

But this is were I really started feeling cold.  My hands were completely numb, and my feet, even through the neoprene booties, were almost as bad as my hands.  So I stopped again, and hung on to a kayak.  The guy in the kayak was very nice.  Asked my name, where I was from, so I told him.  And because I thought he was being nice, I asked his name too.  It was Garret.  It wasn't until I started swimming again that I remembered something Robin told us at the BBQ the day before about her stint as a volunteer at the finish line.  Ask the participants their names and where they are from as an indicator if they need medical attention or not.  And I realized that's what he was doing to me!  But I knew my name, and where I was from, so we're all good.

One of the things I like about being at the back of the pack swimming is you get your own personal escort back to the finish.  Sometimes 2 or 3.  You get company, and sighting is a breeze.  One of the guys on a paddle board kept talking to me as I was swimming, and kept letting me know how much time I had, and was supportive, kept telling me that I had good form, my breathing looked good, etc.

But I was getting really cold.  And I knew that I was going to be cutting it close to the swim cut off.  So I prepared myself on the swim back.  If you don't make the swim cut off, it's ok.  Go back to the hotel, shower, and come back and cheer for everyone else.  But you WILL keep moving forward until they take your chip.  Towards the end of the swim, in the few lucid moments that I had, I was so miserable, I was actually going to be really upset if I did make the swim cut off.

I'm not exactly sure where I was when things started going south, and fast.  I know it was on the swim back.  And I know at that point I had either a paddle boarder or a kayak on each side of me.  And I know that there were other people out there with me still swimming.  But things got really fuzzy for me.  I was tired, and I don't think I realized at the time how tired I was, and how much that was slowing me down.  At one point, I remember breathing, and turning my head to site, but not being able to because I realized my eyes were closed.  But I kept moving forward.  Because that has (apparently) been ingrained in my brain.  You keep moving forward no matter what happens.  So I kept swimming.  And on the turn back to the dock, everyone was yelling and cheering for us.  My kayaker kept yelling my number, telling me to pull and dig deep.  At least I think that's what they were saying.

I get to the bottom of the stairs, and there is a volunteer there to help us get out of the water.  And he literally had to pull me out of the water because I couldn't help myself at all.  I think it was someone else (as I said, things are a little fuzzy) and I basically collapsed against him, and leans down and tells me that I didn't make it.  I shake my head, and they carry me up the stairs.  Realizing that I can't hold myself upright, they sit me down on the steps and take half of my wetsuit off. One of the medical volunteers comes up to sit next to me, asks how I'm doing and I just remember saying "cold" over and over.  After a couple of minutes, 2 guys walk (drag) me to the warming tent, where they put me in a warm bath, take off the rest of my wetsuit, and make sure I'm not close to death.  Which is pretty much how I felt at the time.

I have to say, the medical volunteers and staff there are top notch.  One volunteer sat with me, and I kept telling her that they had to tell my mom I was ok.  I knew that she would be worried, and I didn't want her to get upset.  She'd been through Musselman with me, and I knew that if she had another experience like that, I'd never get her to another race again.  So she asked what my mom was wearing, went out twice to find her, with no success.  Which made me even more worried.  But I was also still really freaking cold.  While in the warm bath, my hands felt like I was getting stabbed with 1000 needles, which made me want to pull them out of the water, but they kept telling me to stay in the bath.  Until another old guy came in the warming tent, and one of their ideas was to put us in the warm bath together.  Uhh...no thank you.  So I willingly moved to one of the cots they had set up, and they wrapped me up like a burrito.  And then I started shivering.  I'm not sure how long it took to start feeling better, but, to me, it was faster than I expected.  So I get wrapped up in a couple of mylar blankets (because all I was wearing at the time were my tri shorts and a sports bra) and I walk out of the tent, and there are my parents waiting for me.  I walk over, and put my head on my mom's shoulder, and I tell them that I didn't make it.  Then I ask my mom if she would be really mad if I wanted to try this again sometime.  Her answer was "let's not talk about this right now."  She wasn't mad though (whew) and by the end of the day, she mentioned how doing IMAZ again wouldn't be so bad because it's well organized and it's easy for spectators to get around.  Yeah...she'll be back.

So I walk around, figure out what I need to do, which is get my gear bags, turn in my chip, and then I'm free.  So I do that, and I tell the parents that I want to go back to the hotel, shower, and come back and cheer.  They agree, so we head back to the hotel.

As I was getting my gear bags, one of the volunteers came up to me and asked if she could give me a hug.  I agree, and she told me that she was proud of me for just getting out there.  I had been doing ok in the not crying department, but I really almost lost it right there.

So I showered, realized that I had more wetsuit hickeys than I originally thought, and got dressed to head back out to the race.  The only other time I almost lost it was when we first saw the bike course.  I teared up.  But I was there to cheer.  So I did.  I think the best moment was on the run course, I saw Nicholas, and the look of shock on his face when he saw me on the sidelines was just a little funny.  But by this time, I was still cold.  Everyone around me was, at most, wearing a long sleeve shirt, or a light jacket.  I had on 3 shirts (2 made out of wicking material) and a fleece jacket.  And I was still shivering.  And beyond that, I was drained.  My mom has always told me she knew when I was younger when I was faking being sick because she can always tell in my eyes how I'm feeling.  And yesterday evening, I wasn't doing so well.  So our day was done.  On one hand, I'm disappointed that I didn't get to see everyone finish.  But at the same time, I don't think I could have handled seeing everyone else finish when I didn't get to join them. 

There are many days that I feel like I do a better job at being a cheerleader than I do a participant.  Which also makes me wonder why, after the year that I've had, I still want to do this.  I think the best answer is that I don't want to quit.  I have this goal, and yesterday just wasn't my day.  This year wasn't my year.  But I don't want to quit.  As one of my friend's said yesterday "you'll fight another day."  And I will.

But for right now, I need some time.  (But not too much...Cedar Point is next September)

"Vacation" - Week 1

The parents and I have finally arrived in Arizona.  Last night, in fact.  And before 10am this morning, had you asked me how I was feeling about race day, I wouldn't have had a very good answer.  If anything, the answer would have been something close to "blah."  But at 10am, we got to the race location, and as soon as I saw the first tent with "Ironman" written on it, the nerves definitely started kicking in. 

But let's back track just a bit.  I've been supposed to be enjoying time off from work the past week, and I was looking forward to having some time off work, and expected to be bored out of my mind sitting around my parents house.  But I was back home, and was able to see friends that I get to see once a year, so my time was kept quite busy.  In fact, I couldn't believe it's already time for me to be in Arizona.

Vacation actually started off with a wedding, where the other original member of the singles girls club got married, leaving me on my own in that particular club.  The wedding was lovely.  I was the only single person in attendance above the age of 25.  And despite the best efforts of the bride, I didn't actually catch the bouquet.  Whew, dodged a bullet on that one.

So...hanging out with my BFF...awesome.  We ate at the greasy spoon that we grew up loving, despite the fact that they DIDN'T have the cole slaw we so desperately love.  Perused Kohl's.  And got smoothies from the ridiculously awesome, hipster coffee shop that is admittedly  the exception to awesome things found in Middle America. 

My dad also took me 4-wheeler riding through the woods down the road (from the middle of nowhere) from our house.  And the first thing I thought when I saw the trails is that it would make a ridiculously awesome trail run.  So, if anyone would like a challenge, just go visit my parents. 

Then lunch with the girls from college, dinner with my old roommate from DC, and only one teensy, tiny day where I got to stay in my pj's until 2pm.  I'm slightly disappointed with that fact, but am happy that I was able to see so many people that I only get to see once a year. 

And now we're in Arizona.  Prepping for Ironman Arizona. 

I checked in this morning, got my packet, etc.  And I perused the Ironman Store.  I'm typically pretty superstitious about not buying anything before the big race that says anything to do with actually doing the race, or finishing the race.  But I broke that today.  They have this shirt, where they created the M-dot out of all the participants name.  And it's pretty awesome.  So, I bought it.  And let's face it, my superstition hasn't really gotten me too far in the past, so perhaps, the mere fact that I bought something with the stupid races name on it might give me the motivation to actually, you know, finish.  (I did, however, almost buy my niece a shirt that said "Support Team" on it, with the "m" of team being the m-dot...I haven't yet, but plan to.  And I think my brother and sister-in-law may appreciate that over the shirt that says "When I Grow Up I Want to be an Ironman.")

I have to say, I did have a few, not so brief, moments while at the expo today...where I was wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I totally don't fit in.  I was feeling a little self-conscious about not really looking like an Ironman.  Or at least nothing like the people standing around me do.

This is definitely a unique experience.  You sign away the rights to your life (basically).  You hand over the most expensive possession that you own to complete strangers.  And you make your loved ones stand around waiting for you for an entire day.  And they willing do this because they love you.  But beyond that, you're the rock star.  You're the one that the day is all about.  The little bracelet on your wrist, that you will no doubt wear for weeks after the race is actually over, is status.  You are the Ironman to be.  You've been training for this day for a year.  And now the day is finally here (almost).  People cater to your needs, and give you anything you want or need.  The thought, well, it just makes me pause.

But I guess it's a little too late to turn back now, so it appears that I'll be racing on Sunday.  Then maybe I'll be able to enjoy the second week of my vacation. 

It's On, Baby

The countdown, that is.

10 days.  10 teeny, tiny days. 

And it's been a crazy week.  Ok, it's been a crazy 6 months, but the past 2 weeks have been ridiculous.  A week ago, I realized that I was editing a cheering guide and compiling a participant list for a race that I'm not even doing...which...if I do say so myself, turned into 64 pages of awesomeness.  I haven't been able to completely reign in Ed's stream of consciousness writing style yet, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I'm no miracle worker.  But beyond that, I've taken the lead on planning our work Holiday Party.  Which has made me want to add "Cat Wrangler" to my job description, if not just completely replacing my job title with that heading.  Oh yeah...and I'm still working full time, training for an Ironman, and doing an added amount of stretching/strength training/PT. 

As if that weren't enough to make a person go insane, or just pass out with exhaustion...something was...off.  And had been for a while...about 4 weeks to be exact.  If you'll recall, that's the time where I got hurt, and couldn't work out as much.  For a while, I thought that was the cause.  I was tired all the time, I was in a bad mood, or if I wasn't in a bad mood, I just didn't feel like myself.  I didn't feel like doing anything.  There were days were just laying on the couch seemed like the only thing my body was physically capable of doing. 

Some might say that such a break was well warranted.  And they would probably be right.  But it just wasn't...me. 

3 days ago, I had a breaking point.  On Sunday, I didn't do anything.  I was a hermit, and I laid on the couch and did absolutely nothing all day long.  On Monday, I knew I hadn't slept well the night before (we'll get to that in a bit) but I was exhausted all day long.  Extremely exhausted.  To the point where I was neurotically searching online for possible causes for such extreme fatigue.  Yes, it's also slightly hypochondria-ish.  But something was wrong.  I went home Monday evening, and again, did nothing.  I laid on the couch for about an hour, and then went to bed.  At 6:30pm.  10 and a half hours later, I wake up, and I have an epiphany.  In all of my research, one of the causes always listed was a reaction to medicine.  Do we remember what also happened a month ago?  I got put on new asthma medicine.  So I look up possible side effects.  DING DING DING!!!  We have a winner.  Possible side effects:  Adrenal Fatigue, Extreme tiredness, depression.  It wasn't a medicine I was supposed to be on for a long period of time, just long enough to get my lungs opened up, so I immediately stopped taking the medicine.  And guess what...immediately I started feeling better.  So now, 3 days post medicine, things are starting to feel normal again.  In fact, yesterday afternoon, I was hyper.  And I'd only had 2 cups of coffee yesterday.  And I was hyper.  It was a wonderful feeling.  I'm still tired, but back to a much more normal level of tiredness.  And I can function, which is...you know...kind of important :)

After I stopped taking the meds, and went back to normal human being-ish-ness, I actually had a conversation about what's been going on with me, and my friends are so nice and put up with me.  We even talked about some of my reactions lately.  And they even noticed changes in my personality with how I reacted to a few things.  Not that my reaction was abnormal, but how...extreme...was abnormal.  So, hopefully all of that has now stopped, and the normal, happy, hyperactive, refusing to lay on the couch me has returned. 

Now it's time to talk about freaking out. 

History tells us that I have horrible race jitters.  I get nervous, I get cranky, and I'm not pleasant to deal with.  But I've never had nightmares before.  Sunday evening saw a panic attack where I was concerned about not making the swim cut off.  Tuesday morning, I did some math, my *favorite* thing to do, and I'm more calm.  I now know that even if I swim my slowest average pace, I'll beat the swim cut off, with time to spare.  Barring any other unforeseen misadventure.  So, I was much more calm. 

Last night, or rather, 1:30am, I woke up because there was some weird, random, very loud ringing going on around my apartment.  I have no idea what it was, but it sounded like some type of alarm.  It kept me up for a while, and somehow I managed to drift back to sleep.  But the craziness brought about a very strange...dream...nightmare...whatever you want to call it.  The alarm (in my dream) prompted me to leave my apartment, and when I got back to my apartment, the Building Engineer in my building was in my apartment, had my bed out in the hallway, and was cleaning up in my apartment.  Confused about why my bed was in the hallway, I go in, and ask what happened.  Apparently, right after I left, the radiator in my apartment blew up, wreaking havoc in my apartment.  And it broke Cedric (my bike) in half.  I was distraught.  My bike is getting picked up tomorrow...what am I to do???  The Building Engineer tells me not to worry, I have time tomorrow to go get a new bike.  I'm not sure who was paying for the bike, or where I was going, but it could happen.  Then I was distraught that I would have to race IMAZ on a brand new bike.  Oh no! 

The dream basically ended there.  Or, at least, that part of the dream.  My brother and sis-in-law, I'm sure, will be happy to hear that the rest of the dream was about visiting them...as they're about to have twins. And that's not true (to my knowledge). 

So, anyway...we have the swim freak out covered.  We now have the bike freak out covered.  I'm just wondering what my convoluted brain is going to come up with to make me freak out about the run.  I've never freaked out about running before, so this could potentially be quite hilarious.

And, despite the fright that Cedric's demise could potentially bring about, my dream has actually amused me.  I've been laughing about it all morning.  It's just such a ridiculous prospect, that you just have to laugh. 

So, to that, I say...bring it on, baby.

At This Moment...

...I agree with everyone that ever thought I was crazy for wanting to do an Ironman. 

I admit it.  I'm a worrier.  I come from a long line of worriers.  So, at least I come by it honestly.  In the past, though not a common occurrence, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, so worried about some random topic, I can't get back to sleep.  It could be money, work, anything.  Then, in the morning, it's normally all better. 

Last night, I didn't even have the opportunity to get to sleep before the worry started.  Out of no where, I suddenly started freaking out about not making the swim cut off in Arizona.  I tried to calm myself down, think the logical things about my swimming ability.  That even if I maintain my current, slow pace, I would still make the cut off.  I tried thinking about other things.  And for well over an hour, not much worked.  Though, at one point, I did drift off, only to suddenly be awake, grabbing at my chest,  because my heart was racing so much, I feared it was going to jump out of my chest.  I feared that even though I know swimming is my weak spot, I hadn't done enough practice, and that I won't get enough long swims in, and even though I've done long swims, it's not the actual distance...blah blah blah crazy talk. 

There is a part of me that fears starting, because there is a chance, because there is always a chance, that I will not finish.  And after the year that I've had, I'm not sure that I could handle another failure.  And I know that isn't the right attitude.  I know that starting is half the battle.  Getting to the start line is an accomplishment that many people don't even try.  And though the race results from this year might not show it, I know that there is a lot of strength, and stubbornness within me.  I know that if I get my face in the water, I can finish the swim.  I know that if I get out of the water, I can get on my bike.  I know that if I get off my bike, I can run or walk or crawl to the finish line. 

So, at this moment there is a war going on in my head between the logical side, and the illogical.  The logical side tells me that this is going to hurt no matter what, and it's going to hurt for everyone.  The logical side tells me that I have done the training, and that our training plans do a lot more than many others do, so even if I have been on the injured reserved list for a month, I should still be fine.  The logical side tells me that it's better to get to the starting line healthy, than to have worried about getting all of the miles in.  The illogical side just tells me that I'm batshit crazy, and there's a good possibility that I'll die. 

I think above anything else, I'm afraid of letting myself down.  And I'm really afraid of letting my family and friends down. 

I accidentally stumbled across being able to do this sport.  I'd heard of it, but I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would ever be able to do it.  I probably first heard about Ironman when I was 8 years old.  Of course, the race I heard about was Kona.  And at that point, I was the little kid who was overweight, and wasn't active, and I basically remained that way for nearly 20 years after that.  But there was always a part of me that thought doing an Ironman was the ultimate badass thing to do.  It was an unrealistic goal, one that I didn't worry too much about because until 2 years ago, there was no chance in hell I'd ever do one. 

And then I met Ed, and the rest of the Team Z crazy's.  And they actually made me think that this might actually be possible.  Many times over the past year I have thought about, and realized, that I'm living out a life long dream.  And then I immediately stopped thinking about it because it freaked me out.  It's kind of a huge thing to realize that you're living out something you've been dreaming about since you were a little kid.  And I think that, above anything else, is making me freak out even more.  Can't this just remain a dream, and never have to worry about it becoming a reality.  Maybe say...you know...one day I'll do this? 

No...no it can't.  Dreams are made to be realized, and one way or another, 13 days from now, or 10 months from now...it must come true.  That one day is coming, and it's coming quickly.  I'm absolutely scared out of my mind.  And there are a multitude of things that could go wrong, in the days leading up to it, and during the race itself. 

But 1, just one thing has to go right, and it will change my life forever.  I have to trust in myself, and trust in the training, and beyond anything else...just keep moving forward. 

So in the mean time, forgive the wild rantings of a crazy woman...

The Magical Qualities of Snow

I admit it.  I hate cold weather.  I hate being cold. And mother nature should allow us one, and only one, good dumping of snow. And then it should promptly go back to being 65-70 degrees.  It's snowing today.  And it's October.  October is not for snow.  October is for sweaters being pulled out of storage, and leaves turning the most brilliant oranges and reds you could imagine.  But no, it's definitely snowing today.

There is something about taking a walk in snow.  There is some magical quality to it.  Even now, as I'm back home in my mostly warm apartment, defrosting my icy digits, I have a subtle smile on my face. 

There is something about taking a walk in snow that takes me back to my childhood.  As a youngster, I loved playing in snow.  And for me, sledding was not hurling down a hill as fast as a toboggan could carry me.  Sledding was being pulled behind a 4-wheeler by my dad.  I, of course, was the child who would tip the sled from side to side, almost to the point I would topple over the side, but never quite going over.  And then my brother would ultimately let go of my sled, and I would go careening through the snow, bounce back up, and demand to do it again.

There is something about taking a walk in the snow that makes me want to tip my face upward, and let the snow smack me in the face.  And spread my arms and twirl until I'm so dizzy I immediately fall over.  It makes me not want to take life so seriously.

It makes me have a sweet smile on my face, one that invites cute, old men to tip their hats to me, and say good day to you.  And makes me say good day to you right back. 

It makes me think of sitting in my parents living room, with the fire roaring, in my plaid old man pajamas,  drinking hot cider, eat apple crumble, while reading a book.  Of snow days as a child, where you stayed up late the night before, measuring how much snow had already fallen, begging your parents to stay up late because they MUST cancel school the next day.  Then waking up to find that it wasn't just a dream.  You got an extra day away from classes, and had no responsibilities, and could laugh, and play, and nap without guilt.  Because you got a snow day. 

The one thing I do love about cold weather...the one and only thing...is the magical quality of snow. 

Weight Waiting

I had a goal.  A goal that I am going to fail miserably at.  For now.  My goal was to cross the finish line at IMAZ weighing 150 pounds.  You may not have seen me lately, but those that have will tell you I am no where close to that goal.  And now that we are *gulp* 25 days away from the start line, my goal is impossible to attain.  And at some point, I accepted that it was more healthy (and reasonable) for me to stop attempting to lose weight, and fuel my body properly for Ironman training instead. 

It's not like the inability to lose weight while training for an Ironman is a new concept for me.  It's something I've heard many, many times before (thanks Mary!).  The general consensus is that if you want to lose weight, do it before you start the build cycles for Ironman.  So, I went straight to Ironman training from marathon training, and though it's not as impossible, it's still not the easiest thing to lose weight while marathon training.  And I realized earlier today that for the past 2 years I've been doing a lot of long distance training, or I've been sick for 2 months and laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing.  Not a great combination.  And I've definitely been more focused (I said more, not completely) on training my body than about that pesky little (or not so little) number on the scale.  And since Ironman training, I've been waiting to be able to lose more weight.

So, where to go from here?  Well, I've been frustrated and cranky lately...for a multitude of reasons, but the main one being that I haven't been able to work out as much because I'm supposed to rest my swollen tendons so I can be healthy for the start line.  And now taper is starting.  And at last check, I have no longer been able to maintain the weight that I have been holding steady at for the past 4-5 months.  So there is a new goal to work toward!  Goals are good.  Plans are good.  I can work with this. 

Post Arizona, I probably have until...March-ish where I'm not going to be focusing on long distance stuff.  At least that's the month I have in mind for Ironman build to start up again (it might be April).  That's a good 4-5 months "off."  As I've said in previous posts, I have a few winter goals to accomplish, and one of them is losing those pesky extra pounds.  I have no intention of becoming a waif, and at one point in my life, said that if I ever weighed less than 150 pounds, I would immediately eat a massive burger, and that's still a fairly accurate statement.  And I think I'm fairly safe in this statement.  If you've paid any attention whatsoever to my bone structure (because I know it's the cat's meow to look at) I'll never even be able to be as thin as *enter the name of current anorexic looking celebrity*.  I want to look like a normal human being. 

So, what am I going to do about it?  I re-joined Weight Watchers today.  I know, we're still before IMAZ.  And the goal is not to go crazy trying to lose a ton of weight in the next 25 days.  If I lose the 3ish that I've gained in the past couple of weeks, I'll be ok.  And then after AZ, really kick things up and make a more concentrated effort on actually losing weight, while attempting to maintain a fraction of the muscle that I've gained in the past 6 months. 

Personally, I'm a big fan of Weight Watchers.  It's worked for me in the past.  It helped take me from this:

to what we see today, which is this (please for give the fact that I look like a hot mess, I need to do laundry):

Huge difference between the 2.  I know.  Most probably wouldn't even think that they're the same person.  And in some respects, they aren't.  Some may look at the bottom photo and think that I look just fine, especially compared to where I've been.  But I don't want to look just fine...I want to look fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.  Sorry...I had to do it :)  But it's not for anyone else that I want to do this.  It's for me, my health, my speed, and the fact that I'm going to have to buy a new wardrobe anyway, it might as well be a smaller size.

So, over the next few months, I'll keep you updated on the progress.  Not that that will be all I talk about...because I have way more than that running through my head, but it will help keep me honest, and help keep me motivated.  And if you see me with cookie in hand, I give you permission to take it away from me.  I may not be able to promise you'll come back with all of your fingers.  But know at the end of the day, I will be grateful for your effort.

The 30 Day Countdown

It's officially begun.  30 days until Ironman Arizona.  It's getting close.  And I have no idea how to pack for 3 weeks, in which I will be attending a wedding, hanging out with family in multiple locations, completing an Ironman, and working.  Yeah...the Ironman is going to be my "rest day." 

So instead of packing, or thinking about packing, or anything resembling the word packing...let's discuss a few other points.

Taking a deep breathe.

I am grateful for every day that I am able to take a deep breathe.  There have been far too many days in my life that I have not been able to, including very recently.  Trying to ride your bike while not being able to take more than a shallow breathe moves into the category of dangerous.  Yet I did it.  And then promptly made an appointment to visit my asthma Dr.  Numbers normally make me feel better.  Having very concise directions also help.  So...numbers:  My lung capacity is at 128% of normal, my large airway capacity is at 120%, and my small airway capacity is at 95% of normal.  Yet I have been having some serious issues breathing lately.  It's not really the capacity that causes asthma, though it typically helps, it's something in the airways themselves (or something very technical-ish like that).  So they put me on more medicine to help clear things up.  It's definitely been helping.  I've been ridiculously jittery.  But I can breathe.  At the moment, it's a trade off I'm willing to accept. 

I have bad balance. 

You can pick your jaw up off the floor, because I'm sure you're all shocked that a klutz such as me would have poor balance.   But that's what the Physical Therapist told me.  So...let's take a step back, so we can have a better understanding of this topic.  I did not grow up an athlete.  In fact, I wouldn't have even considered myself an athlete until less than 3 years ago when I started running.  So let's just say the knowledge behind being an athlete was also not there.  And I've learned a lot.  I could talk bike components until I'm blue in the face.  Nutrition?  I'm pretty much there.  The fact that there are about a million ways to incorrectly train the muscles in your body and only a very select few that actually work...well...NOW I know.  So, long story short, there are many things to work on.  Many things that have resulted in my knees being in pain.  And that I can work around until AZ, and then seriously fix after. 

Winter.

I hate winter.  I hate being cold.  And I'm almost as much of a wuss when it comes to being cold as Ed.  But I'm really excited about this winter.  3 winters ago, I just started running.  And for the past 2 winters, I have trained for a marathon, then directly into triathlon season with no break.  Well...this year...I get one!  I'm not running an early year marathon...so I get to focus on something else than running 20 miles in 25 degree weather.  Woohoo!  And I'm already creating a list of stuff to do. 

• Lost the extra 30-35 pounds I didn't get shed before Ironman training kicked in.  Ok, so I would really be happy with losing 25 and keeping most of the muscle I currently have.  
• Work on swimming.  Let's just say, I'm not a natural swimmer.  And I need some work.
• Strength training/flexibility.  Let's work on those stability muscles!  Who knows...maybe this time next year, I won't be such a klutz!  Hey...we can all dream...
• Use my holiday bonus to sign up for Cedar Point.  Yup.  I said it.  I'm 99% sure I'm doing it.  

So, at this point, I feel like the goal for IMAZ is to just...survive.  And finish before midnight.  With no broken bones.  Then, hopefully next year, I'll actually...well...not be competitive...because that's just never going to happen.  But...maybe, just maybe...I won't suck so badly at this sport that I love.  

Battered, Bruised and Bloody

I am a klutz.  Please, allow me to clarify.  I am a HUGE klutz.  Not a day goes by where I do not damage my body in some way, shape, or form.  Not all klutziness results in major damage, in fact, it rarely does.  But I often look at my arms, legs, feet, fingers, or any other body part and ask "huh, where did THAT bruise come from?"

And this week has been no different.  Well, maybe different in the fact that my klutziness has been taken to an even higher level.  It all started with taking my bike into transition Saturday morning.  As I was rolling Cedric through the grass, a stick (a rather large and pointy stick) got caught in my pedals, and I, of course, didn't realize this.  This caused a bruise and scratch on the top of my left foot.  Not exactly something that I prefer to happen before a "race," but I also knew that it wasn't major enough to cause problems.  And it didn't. 

Fortunately for my mental well being, I had already went into the weekend as this was just training.  But in the back of my head, I really wanted to do well, and at the very least, finish.  I didn't.  It's not something I'm completely ready to talk about, but long story short, I had to listen to my body, and make the decision that the race on November 20, 2011 was much more important that last weekend.  Due to a combination of many insignificant factors, that combined create a significant problem, I had a huge problem.  That problem being my knees.  And the pain that they were in.  They have been getting achy and sore recently, which for most of the time, I wrote off to the fact that I am training for an Ironman, and the general battery that your body goes through.  I can't say that anymore.  So, for the first time since I've been an athlete, I now have an appointment tomorrow with a Sports Medicine Dr.  Growing up, I never imagined that I would have to visit a Sports Medicine Dr, but here I am.  And I keep remembering a comment Ed made one of the first times I met him, "It's not *if* you get hurt, it's *when*." 

After I got back to the park on Saturday, I noticed I had a nice, purple bruise on the knuckle of my ring finger on my left hand.  No clue where it came from.  But it's mostly gone away now. 

Ice.  Pain killers.  Repeat.

Let's skip ahead to Tuesday evening.  I had to stay late at work for a conference call that left me and a co-worker feeling like we had just went through a war.  It was crazy, I was dazed.  I was walking out of the metro station, across a brick sidewalk, and caught my toe on a loose brick, and down I went.  Landing on the knee that has been in the most pain.  I actually find this to be a little fortunate, because it was not, now, both of my knees that were in quite a bit of pain.  I hobbled home, refused to cry about it, and then was most upset that it ruined the lovely pedicure I had given myself. 

Ice.  Pain killers.  Repeat.

As I hobbled around my office the next day, my co-workers all showed a great deal of concern for why I was walking around like a 90 year old woman.  I explained.  Assured them that I was fine.  And kept hobbling around.  At one point, within minutes of one another, I hit the sore, swollen knee on the underneath side of my desk twice, causing me to whimper and my neighbors to ask if I was ok. 

Also, at some point, I realized that I had also scraped the top of my right foot in the fall (matching feet now) and that the dark spot on the back of my left knee was NOT actually residual grease from my bike cleaning, it was, in fact, a bruise as well.  Again, no clue where it came from.

Think I've been through enough this week?  You would be wrong.  As I was making my lunch this morning, I got the bowl of rice I had made out of the microwave.  And promptly dropped it.  Shattering the bowl, and sending glass shrapnel all over floor.  I was barefoot.  And now bleeding (but fortunately, not that much). 

Ice.  Pain Killers.  Bandaid.  Repeat. 

Yes, I do realize that I should be wearing bubble wrap body armor. 

I had been doing quite a good job of feeling sorry for myself, and also being incredibly scared about what the issue with my knees actually is.  I'm 99% certain it's tendonitis.  But I'm not a Dr, so I'm still getting them checked out.  But if that is the problem, it is fixable.  Comparatively easily.  It's not easy for me to just sit still, and it's even more difficult for me to admit that I'm hurt or sick.  Combine the 2, and I've been a peach to be around all week.  Even though it's recovery week, and I'm hurt, and I had every legitimate reasons to sit on my couch and do nothing, last night, I HAD to do something.  So I put on my cycling clothes, and went for an easy spin.  My knees were a little sore, but not actually that bad.  I made sure to stretch well afterward, and I felt much better afterward.  And if anything, I actually think spinning helped my knees.  I'm actually able to walk around like a normal human being today. 

Still icing.  Still taking pain killers.  Still repeating. 

With Ironman Arizona quickly approaching, I'm starting to get very nervous.  I'm nervous about the race, I'm nervous about what my body is going through, and whether or not I'll actually be able to do this, and I'm starting to think past November 20.  The 2 weekends before had been amazing highs that I had been relishing in.  I had truly enjoyed the 20 mile bike ride over the last recovery weekend, and started to actually realize that riding my bike could be fun.  And then finishing my 110 mile bike ride, and running for 2:45 was such a rush, and I was finally starting to feel confident with my preparation.  Then it all came crashing down.  I think what I've been through in the past 3 weeks is a clear definition of the highs and lows that are often natural with this sport.  Some days are truly amazing, and some days, you get your ass handed to you in a sling.  You hope for the best, be prepared for the worst, and no matter what, you keep moving forward. 

One of the things that I love most about the sport of triathlon is that you don't ever have to look very hard to find amazing stories of inspiration.  Today, one story has been a focus more than anything else.  It is the story of Chrisse Wellington winning her 4th world championship last weekend.  And what a story it is.  I won't be able to do it justice, so please read the full story here.  Or better yet, visit her blog.

Reading about her injuries, combined with the amazing performance she was able to produce to win Saturday's race, makes my bumps and bruises seem insignificant.  But it also gives me an incredible amount of respect, not just for Chrissie and her amazing performance, but also for our minds and bodies.  It makes me think that come race day, no matter what obstacle I come across, I will be able to push past it, survive, and finish.  In the mean time, I will prepare my body in the best way that I possibly can.  Getting plenty of sleep, following Drs orders (whatever they may give me tomorrow) do the training that I can, keep reminding myself to trust the training, and to picture myself crossing the finish line, looking strong and confident on November 20. 

8 Years From Now...

8 years from now, when I get married.  Not an uncommon statement for me to make.  So, first, a little background into where this came from.  About 6 years ago, maybe a little more, I had just gotten out of a horrible long term relationship.  And of course, I was helping several of my close friends plan their weddings.  With nothing in my personal life to look forward to, and the typical wedding talk about what you would want in your own wedding (as girls tend to do), I began using the statement "well, 8 years from now when I get married, I would do...this."

One point to note, even though this started 6 years ago, I still say "8 years from now..."  The time frame never decreases.  Marriage is always 8 years away.  (And because most of those couples now have children...children are now 12 years away)

So, what, one might ask, is on the list?  Well...I, of course, am not planning my wedding.  Nor do I have someone to plan it with...so I don't have a lot of specifics about what my wedding day will actually look like...8 years from now.  I do, however, have a list of stuff that I don't want.

• I will not wear a poofy dress.  Just...no.  I would look ridiculous.
• I do not want a huge wedding where I invite every single person I've ever met to attend and feel obligated to buy a gift.  I would much rather have the people that really matter there.
• I do not want the words "Shooting Complex" to appear on my wedding invitations.  I don't care how nice of a banquet center it is.  No thank you.
• I also do not want to host my wedding at a Sleep Inn.  I believe my bff said it best.  "Ew."  

So...the Sleep Inn thing...I recently stayed at one for a race weekend, and I had noticed some decorations that looked a little wedding-esque sitting about while we were there.  Thinking to myself "surely not."  But we got back to the hotel Saturday evening, and sure enough, there was a rockin' wedding going on.  And to top that off...there was also a young girl and her mother talking to the staff about hosting a wedding there.  Oh my.

I don't know what it has been lately...perhaps with everything else on my plate lately...I figure why not add one more.  But I've been thinking a lot about planning a wedding.  It's been a while since I've had to help a friend plan one.  And at this point, most of my friends already are married.  So I guess the next one to plan will probably be my own.  And besides...weddings are fun...right?  And I probably have planned enough that I could plan my own in my sleep.  (Please remind me of this statement 8 years from now when I actually am planning my wedding, and I'm so stressed out that I want to pull my hair out.)  Don't worry...to any potential mates out there possibly reading this...I am not so eager to get married right now that I'll hit you over the head with a frying pan and drag you to the justice of the peace and force you to marry me.  I do still realize it requires a little more effort than that.  And that it won't happen with just anyone.  I'm not THAT girl :)

So...8 years from now...

Clicking "Submit"

Yesterday morning, I decided it was now or never.  I found the correct website.  Entered all of the pertinent information.  Gave them my credit card number, and my hand shakily hovered about the mouse of my computer, as I agreed to whatever requirements they might have (which I often believe may include signing away the life of your future children to some unknown lord among men from a country never heard from before, and no one would ever realize it...because who actually reads those things?) and I clicked submit.  Error!  Oh...why, yes, I am left handed.  Submit.  Confirmation page.

I sat there for a moment, thinking about what I had just done, what I had just signed up for.  My hands were shaking.  My heart was palpitating.  And I couldn't sit still. 

But, unlike normal, I honestly did not have the "I'm crazy, and this is a really bad idea" thought like I normally do in situations like this.  Perhaps, it's because I didn't sign up for a race this time.  What I am now at the beginning of is a journey and test of endurance like none I've ever encountered before.  Yes, still not a race.  I signed up to take the LSAT exam on December 3. 

As with most things in my life, this was not done on a whim.  Much thought had already been put into signing up.  And I've already started preparing to take it.  But there is that hollow, shaking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you actually have a date, time and location.  But, to me, I have a goal date.  Must be completed by: date.  As with endurance sports, having that date is paramount.  It's something to look forward to, it's a goal that must be reached.  You must do the preparation to get across the finish line.  The point that I've already been enjoying studying for it makes it easier to think that I'm going to stick with it.  Who would have ever thought that one could be more excited to pick up an LSAT prep book, and read about deciphering logic problems than a novel.  Well...I guess I'm just a nerd like that. 

This action has come toward the end of a week when I have been thinking a lot about action.  Doing something.  Getting off the couch and participating in life as opposed to just talking about doing something.  Don't get me wrong, I have been just as bad in the past about constantly talking about doing something, but then no action is ever taken.  But really, in looking at things, it's been a while since I can recall something like that.  I like action.  I like talking about doing things, but I like actually doing them better.  I understand that life circumstances sometimes get in the way, I've had a few goals of mine derailed this year because of that.  But I know that at some point, I will make them happen, one way or another.

One of the things that has spawned such thoughts this week is thinking about a couple of friends of mine.  One who constantly talks about doing things.  One of those "I'm going to do this with you" types.  And guess what?  We never have done any of those things.  There's been a long list.  Berry picking, or a party at an embassy, just to name a couple.  And beyond that, he's also one to talk about personal goals, would set them, then never accomplish them.  And, as a friend, it's frustrating to sit by and watch something like that happening.  Perhaps that's one of the reasons we are no longer as close as we once were.  The other friend I mentioned is relatively new in my life, so I'm not sure if this pattern is there or not.  But I started to see a couple of things.  In an effort to communicate better, I told him what my annoyance was.  It didn't go over so well (I think my point went over his head a bit).  But if these things never happen, then what is the point of talking about them in the first place??? 

Maybe, as I get older, I have realized that I need to do something with my life.  Make my life meaningful.  Spend time with the people that really matter to me.  Have fun, and enjoy life.  Maybe part of what has made me have such strong feelings has been the surreal fact that I'm in the middle of accomplishing one of my life long goals.  And I don't want other people to miss out on the possibility of doing something that would be equally as amazing to them. 

So...next time you think about doing something, or talk about doing something...I urge you...DO IT!!  You won't be sorry.

I'm having a week

I'm not having a bad week, though I'm not having a particularly bad week either.  Which after the stress that the past couple of weeks, and the highs of last weekend, I'm ok with where the week is sitting for me.  And for some reason, I often find times like this most hard to write about.  But I'm willing to give it a try.  Sometimes bullet/number lists are easier...so here goes.

1) Though I'm not having a bad week, people around me are.  I'm kept apprised of the situation.  But I'm not being asked to do anything.  Which can be both frustrating, and, at the same time, relieving. 

2) I'm studying for the LSAT.  News to, probably, most people.  I haven't talked about it with too many people, mainly because it's one of those things that may, at the end of the day, week, month, year not end up working out.  But there it is.  I want to go to Law School.  I have since I was a kid, but for a long time, I didn't think I had it in me to do well.  But it's never too late to try, so, hopefully a year from now, I will just be starting a brand new adventure in my life.  And this is also the number one reason I can't decide about what to train for next year.  IF I do an Iron distance race next year, it would be Cedar Point, there is no question there.  But it's also in the middle of September, which would be directly after I would start school (hopefully).  And though I have an idea of where I would end up, I'm not 100% sure of where that is going to be yet.  So I can't decide what to do. 

3) We are now under 50 days until Ironman Arizona.  I don't know the specific number of days, mainly because knowing the specific number of days freaks me out a little.  So if you know, please don't tell me.  Unless I specifically ask :)  But after this past weekends training, I started feeling like this whole thing *might* actually be possible.  And it also had me feeling like there is still a ton that I need to do yet.  Fortunately, I tend to be OCD about making lists, and I also have friends that have already done at least one Ironman...and they, too, are uber organized.  And they're willing to share, and help me out.  So, starting early, making lists, all helps me put things in perspective, and gives me focus, instead of floundering about for what to do.  This, I can do.

4) I'm not sure what else to add here.  Training is going ok.  I can walk just fine after the torture I put my body through last weekend.  I'm looking forward to the torture I'm going to be putting my body through this coming weekend.  And all in all, things are going ok.   Weird...

How an Ironman in Training Celebrates Turning 30

As I sit here on my couch, with my legs propped up, I have a moment to reflect on how perfect this weekends activities could not have been more perfect of a celebration. 

I suppose the celebration started on Thursday evening, with swimming 2 miles for the first time.  I had went into the swim planning on swimming at least 2000m, because that's what I had swam on Tuesday, and it felt really good.  I get into the swim, and it just felt amazing.  So I decide to go for my longest swim ever.  Previously, my longest swim had been 2400m, so I was going to go for 2500.  I know...what a way to blow out a record swim distance.  But I get to 2350, and I'm feeling really good.  And I start having a thought about hitting 2 miles.  And I'm not sure if I can do it or not.  But I was feeling really good, so I went for it.  I cramped a little...but I finished, and it felt great. 

Then it was on to dinner with friends, and proceeded to have a fantastic time.

I took Friday off work because I really wanted to clean my apartment, and do laundry, and sleep in and drink coffee and read.  Well...I slept in, I drank coffee, and I did laundry, and watched TV.  And I slept some more.  So I didn't get nearly as much accomplished as I had hoped, but I think the rest was much needed.  And then the evening was finished with dinner with some amazing friends, who were so gracious to work my training schedule into celebrating.  I got to bed relatively early, all in preparation for the next days training activities.

So I wake up early on Saturday morning.  Sleepily pack my gear, and get it loaded into my rental car.  I started driving off to Easton.  Though barely awake, I didn't get lost...which is excellent.  I get ready to start riding, and am actually looking forward to riding 110 miles.  I know, I'm crazy.  The first 50 miles are great, fantastic, amazing.  I, somehow, now love riding my bike.  It was wrought with wind, and lots of time spent in aero...but it was truly a lot of fun.  To say the least of a brief stop at mile 40 that was most memorable for both Misha and I.  But I felt better, and continued my ride :)  I stop back in the parking lot at mile 50, and refuel, and head back out for 60 more miles.  Almost immediately, we were hit with a hellacious, demoralizing headwind that pretty much made all of the enjoyment I was experiencing go away.  And I was pissed (there is no other better description for how I felt).  More that the wind ruined the lovely bike ride I was having.  I get to the turn around, finally, after several moments of having to talk myself into moving forward.  So I take a moment to not be moving forward, but not too long.  I start back up with Tracy, and we're moving along just fine.  But after a couple of more miles, I started hurting.  A lot.  And I forgot my Tylenol at home.  Did I mention I was half asleep as I was packing my gear?  So I keep moving forward, but I've slowed waaaaaaaaaaaaay down.  And fortunately Matt came up behind me at mile 85.  Asked how I was doing, and suggested I get off and stretch, so I do.  And eat an energy bar.  And get back on my bike and keep moving forward.  I request a brief stop at the Shell station...and again, we keep moving forward.  I'm so glad Matt stuck with me. I might have been able to finish the entire thing without him, but he definitely made it a LOT easier.  So I get back to the parking lot.  And immediately ask for pain killers, and AJ hands me a bottle of Tylenol.  Again, not wanting to wait too long, I head back out for those last 10 miles.  And after having to wind around a side neighborhood, and the Target parking lot...my bike computer FINALLY read 110.04 miles.  It's about damn time.  But I finished with a HUGE smile on my face, and sheer amazement at what I had just accomplished.

And the adrenaline kicks in.  And we're all bouncing off the walls.  So we head over to Chick-Fil-A for some post ride grub...and we didn't completely pig out (this phenomenon will be discussed a bit later).  But we did have a good time enjoying our adrenaline high.  Though I'm quite surprised that some of the families surrounding us didn't request that we leave, or turn down the volume. 

I totally crashed from my adrenaline high on the way home, and looking back, I'm surprised I made it.  I take a quick ice bath.  Choke down a bit of dinner, watch 20 minutes of TV, just so I can attempt to feel like a normal human being, and crash.

So this morning, I was scheduled for another early wake up call, where I could once again, drive over an hour to run 2 hours and 45 minutes.  So off to Gunston I go.  I've been using my phone for navigation lately, and it hasn't failed me yet.  But never underestimate Johanna's ability to get lost.  So, GPS tells me to get off at exit 166-A.  I, for some reason get off at exit 166-B.  And I realize immediately that this is definitely not right.  So I try to get off on the first exit ramp.  And wind up in some secure government facility.  Fortunately, the very nice security guard didn't drag me out of my car and arrest me.  He pulled over, flashed his lights, and asked where I was trying to go.  I tell him my error, he politely tells me where I was (without telling me WHICH secure government facility I was at) and how to get back to where I needed to be.  He follows me out, and I hope that this isn't an indicator of how the day is going to go. 

I finally make it to Gunston (without any further detours) and get ready to run.  There aren't as many people as I was expecting, and no one that runs my pace.  So I start running, and it's not feeling so good.  I take a couple of brief walk breaks, and walking feels ok...but I'm definitely not feeling so good while running.  I'm getting woozy, and just want to curl up and sleep.  Oh, and at this point, it starts raining, and I'm so cold I'm shivering.  So I run...walk...walk...walk...run a bit more...and then start walking.  I tried my hardest to keep running...but I started taking a self inventory of what's going on.  Am I feeling sorry for myself?  Not really...I wish I had someone to run with, but I'm not sure that would fix the situation...but it's possible it could have distracted me for a little while longer.  So then I recall a "run" I had a couple of years ago...my 20 mile run for my first marathon.  I'd had a rough bout of insomnia the night before, and I got the mileage in, but there was a lot of walking.  And I realize that's exactly how I felt this morning.  Except this time, I actually slept between 7-8 hours.  So, I'm going with my body is just exhausted right now.  But I kept moving forward.  Jordan finally caught up to me, and told me he had an extra jacket in his car, and to head back to meet him there so I could wear that.  I also choke down an energy bar.  And catch up to Tracy in her pace setting walk.  We make another loop...and get to see everyone else running.  The warmth, the food in my stomach, and the company definitely helped.  But I'm certain I'm stubborn enough I would have gotten the miles in even if I hadn't had all of those things.  So the day ended with a total of 12 miles between walking and running.  Yes, my legs currently hate me :)

One of the things that I've been thinking about lately is what IMAZ is going to be like.  Well...not so much the actual day, per se.  But what the possibilities of that day are.  It is bound to be the most grueling day of my life.  And also, hopefully one of the best.  But there are a lot of possibilities of what can happen.  Within the past week, I'm finally starting to feel like this whole thing *might* actually be possible.  I know (from past experience) that I can come back from a horrible asthma attack, and continue moving forward.  And also, because of that day, I know just about the worst thing that can happen in a race...but more importantly, I know that I can move past it.  I know that I can ride 110 miles.  And that if worst comes to worst, I can continue walking the marathon.  My inner Ironman is starting to feel happy.

Ok, so now time to talk about this weird phenomenon that's been happening lately.  I love food.  I really, really love food.  We all know this, right?  Over the past couple of weeks, I've noticed that I just don't want to eat much of anything.  Ever.  I do eat, because I know I need the fuel.  But I really don't want to.  I thought it might be stress induced, but now I'm not so sure.  Coffee hasn't tasted that great to me, and both yesterday and today, I didn't even finish the coffee that I made.  I ate french fries yesterday at Chick-Fil-A, and they tasted great.  But I had to choke down a piece of chicken last night.  Literally, it grossed me out.  Breakfast this morning was the same way.  I forced myself to eat eggs...which I normally love.  The energy bar I ate in the middle of my walk this morning...I literally almost spat it out.  Again, post run, I eat one serving of french fries...and they taste great.  So I eat some more.  But when Ed got done grilling the meat...I was on board...thinking that the tide had turned.  I could not have been more wrong.  I eat a bit of chorizo. And then look down at the chicken left on my plate.  I take one bite.  And I'm done.  I couldn't even look at it.  This afternoon, I even told my mom that the mere thought of eating a cookie or a cupcake disgusted me.  She got worried.  I love cookies and cupcakes.  And even now, I know that my stomach is hungry, and that I need to eat, because I haven't done so since around noon today.  But I'm grossed out at the thought.  Seriously...WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?  I mean, don't get me wrong, my inner anorexic is ecstatic.  But this is not so good for the inner Ironman. 

My honest guess is that I'm training a ridiculous amount, and my body is thrown off whack.  I just hope I get some of my appetite back...eventually.  Because...you know...I love food. 

So...that's pretty much it.  Just a low key, relaxing weekend for the birthday girl.  Here's to a great year ahead of me!

Recovery Week

Recovery week is now over, and looking back, I wish I had taken more time to enjoy the break from strenuous, long workouts.  Ok...so I didn't do anything this past week.  At all.  Ok, so I worked.  And I walked to and from the bus stop for work.  But the only work outs I did (I think) were over the weekend.  I've had an odd couple of weeks with big ups and downs...and am hoping the next couple will be on a bit more of an even keel. 

Let's, for a moment, revisit one of the highs.  Yesterday was a 20 mile bike ride day.  To say the least, I was NOT looking forward to this ride.  I wanted to stay in bed, and sleep late, and drink coffee.  And the last thing I ever wanted to do, was get out on that gray, disgusting looking morning and ride my bike.  But I got kidnapped...so I really didn't have much of a choice.  And on the way to Riley's Lock, especially as we were getting much closer, I started getting really nervous.  The pavement was really wet in some places due to recent rain, and there were some decent hills.  So, let's put this in perspective.  I hadn't ridden on hills that big in wet conditions since I wrecked 2 years ago.  Yes, I've been avoiding situations like that like the plague. 

So, we get there, get ready to go.  And as I'm trying to clean my sunglasses...they literally fall apart in my hands.  Awesome!  I hope this isn't an indication of how the rest of the day is going to go.  I try to put them back together, only to realize that they were finally dead.  (Perhaps now is a good time to get those Tifosi's I've been dreaming about???)

But it isn't THAT sunny out...so I should be ok...I was just hoping my eyes wouldn't dry out too much.  And they didn't. (whew).

As we're all standing around, waiting to get started...we are all comparing how far we're riding that morning.  I have to say...it was very nice to be in the shortest group that morning.  As everyone else looked on the Ironman group in jealousy (oh come on now, you know it's true) that we were only riding 20 miles. 

So we get started...and I am not having any fun.  There's a lot of climbing to do...which normally is fine with me...but these hills, combined with my lack of a decent attitude about the ride...did not make for a fun start.  And everyone that had been riding in front of me were no longer in site. Awesome. 

I then get passed by a car, and instead of pulling over far enough to get around me, the jerk completely sprayed me.  Even more fantastic.  At least it wasn't cold yesterday. 

So...you might, now, be thinking "isn't this supposed to be one of the highlights?"  Yes, yes it is.  I'm getting to that part.  So...for about the first 8 miles or so, I just kept moving forward, not really having any fun...but starting to get a little more comfortable with the conditions.  There was one moment about 4 miles in where I briefly, and not very seriously, considered just going back to the parking lot.  But I knew that I needed to finish my ride to regain some of my confidence in these conditions.  So I kept moving forward. 

And wouldn't you know, just as I rounded the bend to climb Mt. Nebo...I look up...and am shocked.  I see people!  I had caught up with people!  Woohoo!!  Ok, so some of them had stopped...but still...people!  So I continue to climb, and climb, and descend, and climb (and I passed a couple of people!)...and somewhere around mile 14...something unreal happened.  I started having a lot of fun.  I actually think it was about this point that I actually got warmed up...so things definitely started looking up.  I had caught up to a couple of other girls, and ended up riding with them the rest of the way.  But one of my big victories for the ride was that I started to get less tentative while riding downhill.  To the point I really started having fun with some of them, and getting into a high gear, and pedaling, pedaling, pedaling and going faster, faster, faster.  It was fun :)  I know...I just said I enjoyed going down a hill.  Fast.  I never thought I would actually say those words. 

And before I knew it, I was back in the parking lot...done.  Man...I *just* started having a good time.  And it's over already??? 

This ride actually made me think back a couple of years, when an 18 mile bike ride was all I could do before my body would say "excuse me...you're done now" and would politely shut down.  Because I got back after 20, knowing that my legs (and the rest of my body) could do a looooooooooot more than 20 miles.  But it was fun to stop after 20...because then I could actually go home...and go to a baseball game!  Woohoo!  Plans that don't involve training!! 

So, while before yesterday's ride, though I love Cecric...I really wasn't looking forward to riding him ever again.  Or putting on my running shoes.  But now...I can't wait for next weekends 110 mile bike ride and 18 mile run!  Ok, so maybe I can't wait until they're over.  But being reminded of the progress I've made, and know that I will continue to make, doesn't make the decision not to do an Ironman next year any easier.  I still haven't officially given up on the idea...but I think I'm leaning towards not doing it.  With some very longing glances towards signing up for Cedar Point.  But then again...the decision isn't final...so really anything could happen.

Now, on to this week...starting off with a run!

In Lieu of Vacation

I had had a goal of taking a vacation this year that didn't involve either a race or visiting family.  I don't actually remember the last time this happened.  But, life circumstances have gotten in the way and it's not going to be possible this year. 

As I was laying in bed this morning, once again unwilling to get up, because I was exhausted...I started thinking about the plans I've made for recovery weekend and what I would do with an extra day off.  At the moment, it looks like I won't be spending much time at home this weekend...which is fine...because all of the stuff that I'm doing are things that I am really looking forward to. Happy Hour with friends, recovery run, volunteering at a race, and a baseball game on Sunday.

So...what would I do with this extra day off?  It would have to start with "sleeping in" and drinking coffee.  And then all of the things I've been wanting to do to my apartment that I haven't had time for.  I have a ridiculously tiny apartment, and I've started re-arranging some of my furniture, but there are a few things that I just don't have time for after work.  Like cleaning out my closets.  And mopping my floor.  And doing laundry. 

Now, don't get me wrong...I realize that this is, in no way equal to taking an actual vacation.  But at the same time, I have taken enough business trips lately that I have spent more than enough time in a hotel room, eating crappy food...that it wouldn't really be fun anyway. 

So, now I just need to decide what day I'm taking off.  So I can clean.  I feel so...adult.  And boring.

Catatonic vs. Inner Strength

First of all, exciting news.  I finished my first century ride today!!  :):):)  If I had any energy left, I would do a happy dance.  For now, I'll have to settle for a celebratory nap on my couch. 

In the middle of this century, I took a break...and at the end of the break, I happened to check my email.  What I found there was most unexpected.  An email from an old friend, who, at one time, I was quite close to.  To say the least, things did not end well.  The content of this email was nothing I was unaware of, but the source left me nearly catatonic for the better part of 20 minutes. 

I called my mom, because I needed to talk to someone, but wasn't sure what to say.  She understood exactly how I was feeling, and just sat on the phone with me for several minutes while I was simply unable to utter any words.

As I said, the content of the email was nothing I was unaware of.  It basically talked about who I am, and a couple of anecdotes about times I had showed an unexpected amount of strength.  And also about what had happened between us, and long story short, an apology.

It served as a much needed reminder of what I'm capable of doing, and how far I have come.  This week has been...odd.  And has had me thinking about a lot of things in my life.  The past, the present, and the future.  The past is the past, and something I don't want to forget because it has helped shape who I am now.  But there are certain aspects that I rarely talk about, and for those of you who weren't there with me...you'd probably never imagine.  But it's something I'm ready to let go of...and to do that, I'm just going to get it out.  I was in a relationship that was horrible.  And I have scars...emotional scars...from times where I was frequently and obscenely told that I was worthless.  It was an abusive relationship...and it has taken a long time to overcome. 

But what this is really about now is moving past that.  In the past I have had little faith in myself, and a times, those around me.  But it's time to move forward.  In the past week, I've had more reminders than I can count about how wonderful so many people in my life are right now.  It's time I realize, and accept this fact...and that this is my future.  Not cruelty.  So...thanks for being so awesome, and for being there for me when I've needed it. 

For now though, I'm going to listen to the advice of one of my fabulous friends, and I'm going to go to sleep now.