I've been quiet for a while. I could say that I've been busy...but that's really not why. I've been spending a good deal of time working on me. It's about damn time. And I've been feeling better the past couple of months...really figuring out what I want in life.
So...updates:
I finally decided to give dating a try again. Shocking...I know. Men are still idiots...and I truly hate the process...but there is now some part of me that is hopeful that a relationship is possible. Which is new. My dad's idea of me dating? Surely with the amount of injuries I've suffered and will suffer...I should be able to snag a doctor on one of my many trips to the ER. Thanks Dad. I love you too.
Work has been going well. I finally found out what my new job is...and I'm really going to like it. And I'm now scheduled for my first work trip in a few months...and I'm actually really excited about it. I'm going back to Spokane (if the weather holds up for me to get there)...so it will be nice going back to WA.
And I'm moving. It feels like I'm moving backwards. When I was 21 and fresh out of college, I moved into a 2 bedroom, 850 square foot apartment. I had my own washer and dryer. I had a dishwasher. But I was in Middle America. But I had my own place. Then I moved to DC...and had roommates again...and we won't go over the living hell that turned out to be. Then Bri and I moved into our apartment. And it's been good. But she's moving back home...and I couldn't be more excited for her. It's what she wants to do...where she wants to be. So the year I turn 30...I'll be moving into a 250 square foot efficiency apartment.
Something seems extremely wrong with this picture.
In what seems like eons ago...I had hopes that I'd own my own home by the time I turned 26.
Don't get me wrong...I'm excited about having my own place again, and about being much closer to work. I am. But there is a part of me that's disappointed. And I'm not sure if it's in myself. Or just the situation in general.
I've been hiding this weekend. I've read 3 books. And I haven't worked out for anything. And it's because I wanted to turn my brain off. I didn't want to have to think about the situation...and come to terms with where I am.
But I can't do that forever. I know I can't. I know I need to. But all day I've had a knot in my stomach and in my throat...and in my heart. Deal with it, I must.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, December 3, 2010
Nutrition, Slacking and IMAZ
Let's get IMAZ out of the way.
It's official. I've really gone 'round the bend now. I signed up for Ironman Arizona.
'Nuff said.
No?
Ok.
You all know I'm more loquacious than that.
The entire weekend before, I was nervous. Hands shaking, about ready to throw up, and I kept checking the website...making sure I had the right one. So at 2pm on that fateful Monday...I go to the site. Ok...to be honest...I'd had it up on my computer all day. And at 2pm, the website kept telling me it was busy and to check back in a few minutes. And IT KEPT TELLING ME THAT!?!
About 20 minutes in, I got an email from Matt telling me he had made it in. I frantically write him an email saying I couldn't get the @%*$*@ website to let me in. He calmly emailed me another link. And of course it worked perfectly. It let me sign up. It let me sign up about 5 minutes before it closed.
Whew.
What the $*^&$ have I done? Even now, nearly 2 weeks later...I'm still wondering that. What if I can't do the training. What if I get a brain tumor in the next couple of months and can't go on? (Hey...with the past year that I've had...anything is possible) (Plus I have a headache right now, and the brain tumor thing seems like a likely cause) (Or maybe it's just that I need to go to the eye Dr.) What if I get all the training in, and I still can't finish? Can I finally take a bit of a break after next November?
Then I started looking at everything else I need to buy before next November.
Now I *KNOW* I'm crazy.
And this is supposed to be for fun?
Oh boy.
And this is all constantly running through my head.
So there's that.
Next!
I guess the other 2 topics are mostly related. It's the holiday's. And I'm training for a marathon and a half. And it's the holiday's. And there's a ridiculous amount of disgusting (and when I say disgusting...I really mean really tasty, yet really bad for you) food all around. Fortunately, I'm genetically inferior, and can't eat most of it. But I'm hungry ALL THE TIME. And it won't stop. I am trying to do as good as I can...but it's incredibly difficult. And I'm nearly ready to throw my scale out the window. Maybe I should do that anyway. Or at least ignore it for the next few months.
I've calculated my workout percentage of scheduled vs. completed. In October (after I started keeping track) I did 80% of the scheduled workouts. Not bad. In November, this number has decreased to 67%. This has mainly decreased after Beach2Battleship. Not that I didn't deserve a bit of a break. I definitely feel it was warranted. I just seem to be having a difficult time getting back into the swing of things. On the weekends, I have still been getting my long workouts in. Well...at least the long runs. It's the weekday efforts that are getting lost in the shuffle of being exhausted, and unmotivated to work out in the morning, and jury duty, and holiday's. Weirdly, the one that I haven't missed at all is my strength training, which has previously been the thing I've most easily dropped. Maybe because I can do it at home while watching TV. Maybe because it's been requiring less effort. Maybe it's because I have finally seen the light when it comes to building muscle, and it's effects in other disciplines. Who knows? (Most likely, it's all 3 causes) Any way you look at it, I've been beating myself up about it. Probably not the most effective course of action. But that's where things stand.
I think the most frustrating thing going on right now is that I'm feeling lazy because I've been slacking...but because the long workouts (and my constant battle with food) I'm eating more than I feel like I'm burning off right now.
So I'm running 18 miles tomorrow. And getting things back on track.
I swear :)
It's official. I've really gone 'round the bend now. I signed up for Ironman Arizona.
'Nuff said.
No?
Ok.
You all know I'm more loquacious than that.
The entire weekend before, I was nervous. Hands shaking, about ready to throw up, and I kept checking the website...making sure I had the right one. So at 2pm on that fateful Monday...I go to the site. Ok...to be honest...I'd had it up on my computer all day. And at 2pm, the website kept telling me it was busy and to check back in a few minutes. And IT KEPT TELLING ME THAT!?!
About 20 minutes in, I got an email from Matt telling me he had made it in. I frantically write him an email saying I couldn't get the @%*$*@ website to let me in. He calmly emailed me another link. And of course it worked perfectly. It let me sign up. It let me sign up about 5 minutes before it closed.
Whew.
What the $*^&$ have I done? Even now, nearly 2 weeks later...I'm still wondering that. What if I can't do the training. What if I get a brain tumor in the next couple of months and can't go on? (Hey...with the past year that I've had...anything is possible) (Plus I have a headache right now, and the brain tumor thing seems like a likely cause) (Or maybe it's just that I need to go to the eye Dr.) What if I get all the training in, and I still can't finish? Can I finally take a bit of a break after next November?
Then I started looking at everything else I need to buy before next November.
Now I *KNOW* I'm crazy.
And this is supposed to be for fun?
Oh boy.
And this is all constantly running through my head.
So there's that.
Next!
I guess the other 2 topics are mostly related. It's the holiday's. And I'm training for a marathon and a half. And it's the holiday's. And there's a ridiculous amount of disgusting (and when I say disgusting...I really mean really tasty, yet really bad for you) food all around. Fortunately, I'm genetically inferior, and can't eat most of it. But I'm hungry ALL THE TIME. And it won't stop. I am trying to do as good as I can...but it's incredibly difficult. And I'm nearly ready to throw my scale out the window. Maybe I should do that anyway. Or at least ignore it for the next few months.
I've calculated my workout percentage of scheduled vs. completed. In October (after I started keeping track) I did 80% of the scheduled workouts. Not bad. In November, this number has decreased to 67%. This has mainly decreased after Beach2Battleship. Not that I didn't deserve a bit of a break. I definitely feel it was warranted. I just seem to be having a difficult time getting back into the swing of things. On the weekends, I have still been getting my long workouts in. Well...at least the long runs. It's the weekday efforts that are getting lost in the shuffle of being exhausted, and unmotivated to work out in the morning, and jury duty, and holiday's. Weirdly, the one that I haven't missed at all is my strength training, which has previously been the thing I've most easily dropped. Maybe because I can do it at home while watching TV. Maybe because it's been requiring less effort. Maybe it's because I have finally seen the light when it comes to building muscle, and it's effects in other disciplines. Who knows? (Most likely, it's all 3 causes) Any way you look at it, I've been beating myself up about it. Probably not the most effective course of action. But that's where things stand.
I think the most frustrating thing going on right now is that I'm feeling lazy because I've been slacking...but because the long workouts (and my constant battle with food) I'm eating more than I feel like I'm burning off right now.
So I'm running 18 miles tomorrow. And getting things back on track.
I swear :)
Monday, November 15, 2010
I Love the Smell of Neoprene in the Morning
Fact: Your body can go much further than your mind will usually let you.
Fact: A month and a half of real training is still not enough time to train for a 70.3 race.
Fact: My dad snores REALLY loud.
Well...the end of the triathlon season has come and gone...and it doesn't really feel like there's going to be any closure. No celebration. No special treat. Nothing of the kind. At least not now. In many ways, the "end" of the season is really just another training weekend, and a good way to point out just how far I have to go.
Today is November 15. Four months and one day ago, I had surgery. And 2 weeks after that, I got the joy of completely starting over on training. One week after that, I started traveling for work, which greatly inhibited my ability to train...both mentally and logistically. Then, once I actually started living at home again...I renewed my commitment to training...and have actually (finally) done quite a good job of keeping to my training schedule.
But anyway...
Pre-race:
This would be my dad's first race as my sherpa...so I was really excited to be able to share this with him. Over the past year and a half, my parents have been able to see what triathlon has done for me personally...and now my dad was going to be able to see it up close and personal. So my dad gets to DC on Wednesday evening...and Thursday morning we head to Wilmington. After several hours on the road, and a couple of last minute, tire screeching exits...I banish my dad from driving and more that day...and we eventually get to the hotel in one piece.
On Friday...we sleep in...well...kind of. I actually woke up around 4am...and couldn't get back to sleep because my dad was snoring loud enough, I couldn't block out the sound. But eventually...I get a bit more sleep. Then we head to do all of the fun pre-race stuff...like packet pick up and the pre-race meeting. After I had picked up my packet...I ran into Chris Wren...and chatted for a bit about water temps...and he told me that if I had the chance...I should get in the water because he hyperventilated for a couple of minutes when he first got in. This was slightly un-nerving. But I figure cold water is cold water...and there's nothing I can do to change that right now. So...pre-race meeting...the only notable thing I'll mention is my favorite quote of the weekend...in regards to exiting the water and the warm clean water showers...and the need to pay special attention to the...ahem...crotchel areas. Actual quote.
Post pre-race meeting...we head back to the hotel (and our second meal at Chick-Fil-A) so I could get all of my transition bags together. Which I do...and then dad and I head off to drop off my bike. It wasn't until this point that dad I really realized the logistical nightmare of the point to point race. But we survived...and my bike got to the appropriate place. And my dad survived dinner with all of you crazy Z people.
Race Morning:
The way my race jitters work...I'm a "lets get there ridiculously early as opposed to possibly being late" type of person. So that's what we did. And after I dropped off my transition bag...my dad asked if I wanted to sit in the car for a while to warm back up...which I obviously did. But when it was time to meet the rest of the team...I bared the cold...and headed to body marking. I lovingly told the guy that did my marking that "no offense...but you're going to be my least favorite person today."
So...we're all standing around. Shivering. And Mark gets this fabulous idea to just put my wetsuit on...and that will keep me warm. I didn't think it sounded like a terrible idea. Until 30 seconds later when I was struggling to get my stupendously long legs into said wetsuit. This would not be the stupendously long leg + wetsuit combination would pose a problem that day.
Once we got through the hurry up and wait...we all waddled to the the shuttles, and headed to the swim start...and once again got to hurry up and wait. We did get to see the Coast Guard piss off some full iron swimmers...but all for a good cause of rescuing another swimmer. And then it was FINALLY our turn to swim. I, for once, wasn't overly nervous about the swim. I've had some good swims lately...so I figured I wouldn't die.
What I really wasn't prepared for was how disgusting the salt water was going to be. Needless to say...it was gross...and ended up with some nausea. But the swim ended up going really well. Especially compared to my half swim at Kinetic in May...where I just about collapsed on the beach. So I have definitely come a long way since then. Who knew actually doing some strength training would help?
So I make it out of the water up the ladder...and over to the wet suit strippers...and my reaction (including eyes rolling about in my head) was..."HOLY SHIT!" So I get up...and attempt to start moving toward transition. And I realize that something is a little weird. Those things at the end of my feet...well...I'm not really sure they're there any more. So...literally everything that wasn't covered by neoprene...which because of those stupid, stupendously long legs...is about half way up my shins. So running...err...walking was a little difficult. But I finally start moving a little bit...and running actually doesn't feel too bad..when I'm not trying to trip and fall on my face.
Side note. I looked at the pictures my dad took during the race. He is now banned from ever taking race pictures EVER AGAIN! Me, half-naked, wet, and running is not as aesthetically pleasing as one might imagine. I have photographic proof this is true.
So I get into the changing tent...and take longer that I had probably initially imagined...mainly because I had to warm my feet up before I could, or would, get on my bike. So...I was on my bike. I actually saw my dad. Told him I couldn't feel my feet. And started off on the longest few hours of my life. Getting on the road...and getting passed by so many people...and realizing how slow I was...there was an array of thoughts going through my head. One of the main points was that I have such a great hope that one day I'm not going to suck at this...but clearly...I do...so why is it again that I'm doing this? I'm NEVER going to be able to do this. Well...there wasn't much room for that kind of a thought. Because it got much worse. Quickly.
After passing a few guys that were actually having a worse day than me. Including the guy with the broken clavicle. I realized something wasn't right. I'd try to shift...and my bike wouldn't shift. I'd shift again...it would jump 4 gears. For someone that is already uncomfortable on a bike...this was not a comforting feeling. But I continued on. Until the whole lack of shifting thing really started becoming a problem. I was devastated. I thought my day was over. On one hand I was almost relieved...but I didn't want to quit. This was actually eye opening for me. I was sitting on the side of the road waiting for the bike mechanic...and thought I was done. And realized that I really wanted to continue. So the bike guys get there. Compliment my bike choice. And in 2 minutes...my bike was fixed. When he held up my bike and said "there you go" I was shocked. I think my eyes bugged out of my head. My day wasn't over! Yet. So I continued on.
Not long after that...I realized that all of my mechanical problems were not over yet. I was having some major problems switching from the small ring to the big ring. Awesome. This makes going down hill REALLY fun. But I was still working with it. I had taken a couple of rest breaks...which helped my muscles relax...but it got the the point where taking a break wasn't giving me any relief from the pain. I had a nice little cry. It was actually a very emotional time for me. I didn't want to quit...but I was in so much pain I just didn't see how I could continue. Once I made the turn off of 421...and saw the sign for mile 30...and I nearly cried. I'd made it over half way through the bike leg. But the further I got...the more pain I was in. Oh...and I got passed by the sweep vehicle. That's not a very comforting thing. When it came to the turn where the half course splits from the full course. I turned into a parking lot and I broke down. Hard core. One of the Sag vehicles pulled in with me...and they tried to comfort me...and get me to eat and drink (which I knew wasn't the problem). And I was done. Just done. After a few minutes...we all got in the truck and headed back to the battleship.
I found my dad. Saw Ed. Cried some more. Ed told me not to give up...and when I told him it only made me want to work harder...that earned me a fist bump. I definitely needed a shower...because I was a little crusty all over. We decided to head back to the hotel. And I never made it back to cheer...because I passed out. Hard core. No joke. 2 days later...and I've slept a total of 19 hours since then. And I've even gone running. And aquaphored the appropriate places. And survived the long road trip home...including a stop at an awesome BBQ place. Let's just say Ralph knows how to make good BBQ.
So it's definitely going to be a long year. But I'm not going to give up just yet. :)
Fact: A month and a half of real training is still not enough time to train for a 70.3 race.
Fact: My dad snores REALLY loud.
Well...the end of the triathlon season has come and gone...and it doesn't really feel like there's going to be any closure. No celebration. No special treat. Nothing of the kind. At least not now. In many ways, the "end" of the season is really just another training weekend, and a good way to point out just how far I have to go.
Today is November 15. Four months and one day ago, I had surgery. And 2 weeks after that, I got the joy of completely starting over on training. One week after that, I started traveling for work, which greatly inhibited my ability to train...both mentally and logistically. Then, once I actually started living at home again...I renewed my commitment to training...and have actually (finally) done quite a good job of keeping to my training schedule.
But anyway...
Pre-race:
This would be my dad's first race as my sherpa...so I was really excited to be able to share this with him. Over the past year and a half, my parents have been able to see what triathlon has done for me personally...and now my dad was going to be able to see it up close and personal. So my dad gets to DC on Wednesday evening...and Thursday morning we head to Wilmington. After several hours on the road, and a couple of last minute, tire screeching exits...I banish my dad from driving and more that day...and we eventually get to the hotel in one piece.
On Friday...we sleep in...well...kind of. I actually woke up around 4am...and couldn't get back to sleep because my dad was snoring loud enough, I couldn't block out the sound. But eventually...I get a bit more sleep. Then we head to do all of the fun pre-race stuff...like packet pick up and the pre-race meeting. After I had picked up my packet...I ran into Chris Wren...and chatted for a bit about water temps...and he told me that if I had the chance...I should get in the water because he hyperventilated for a couple of minutes when he first got in. This was slightly un-nerving. But I figure cold water is cold water...and there's nothing I can do to change that right now. So...pre-race meeting...the only notable thing I'll mention is my favorite quote of the weekend...in regards to exiting the water and the warm clean water showers...and the need to pay special attention to the...ahem...crotchel areas. Actual quote.
Post pre-race meeting...we head back to the hotel (and our second meal at Chick-Fil-A) so I could get all of my transition bags together. Which I do...and then dad and I head off to drop off my bike. It wasn't until this point that dad I really realized the logistical nightmare of the point to point race. But we survived...and my bike got to the appropriate place. And my dad survived dinner with all of you crazy Z people.
Race Morning:
The way my race jitters work...I'm a "lets get there ridiculously early as opposed to possibly being late" type of person. So that's what we did. And after I dropped off my transition bag...my dad asked if I wanted to sit in the car for a while to warm back up...which I obviously did. But when it was time to meet the rest of the team...I bared the cold...and headed to body marking. I lovingly told the guy that did my marking that "no offense...but you're going to be my least favorite person today."
So...we're all standing around. Shivering. And Mark gets this fabulous idea to just put my wetsuit on...and that will keep me warm. I didn't think it sounded like a terrible idea. Until 30 seconds later when I was struggling to get my stupendously long legs into said wetsuit. This would not be the stupendously long leg + wetsuit combination would pose a problem that day.
Once we got through the hurry up and wait...we all waddled to the the shuttles, and headed to the swim start...and once again got to hurry up and wait. We did get to see the Coast Guard piss off some full iron swimmers...but all for a good cause of rescuing another swimmer. And then it was FINALLY our turn to swim. I, for once, wasn't overly nervous about the swim. I've had some good swims lately...so I figured I wouldn't die.
What I really wasn't prepared for was how disgusting the salt water was going to be. Needless to say...it was gross...and ended up with some nausea. But the swim ended up going really well. Especially compared to my half swim at Kinetic in May...where I just about collapsed on the beach. So I have definitely come a long way since then. Who knew actually doing some strength training would help?
So I make it out of the water up the ladder...and over to the wet suit strippers...and my reaction (including eyes rolling about in my head) was..."HOLY SHIT!" So I get up...and attempt to start moving toward transition. And I realize that something is a little weird. Those things at the end of my feet...well...I'm not really sure they're there any more. So...literally everything that wasn't covered by neoprene...which because of those stupid, stupendously long legs...is about half way up my shins. So running...err...walking was a little difficult. But I finally start moving a little bit...and running actually doesn't feel too bad..when I'm not trying to trip and fall on my face.
Side note. I looked at the pictures my dad took during the race. He is now banned from ever taking race pictures EVER AGAIN! Me, half-naked, wet, and running is not as aesthetically pleasing as one might imagine. I have photographic proof this is true.
So I get into the changing tent...and take longer that I had probably initially imagined...mainly because I had to warm my feet up before I could, or would, get on my bike. So...I was on my bike. I actually saw my dad. Told him I couldn't feel my feet. And started off on the longest few hours of my life. Getting on the road...and getting passed by so many people...and realizing how slow I was...there was an array of thoughts going through my head. One of the main points was that I have such a great hope that one day I'm not going to suck at this...but clearly...I do...so why is it again that I'm doing this? I'm NEVER going to be able to do this. Well...there wasn't much room for that kind of a thought. Because it got much worse. Quickly.
After passing a few guys that were actually having a worse day than me. Including the guy with the broken clavicle. I realized something wasn't right. I'd try to shift...and my bike wouldn't shift. I'd shift again...it would jump 4 gears. For someone that is already uncomfortable on a bike...this was not a comforting feeling. But I continued on. Until the whole lack of shifting thing really started becoming a problem. I was devastated. I thought my day was over. On one hand I was almost relieved...but I didn't want to quit. This was actually eye opening for me. I was sitting on the side of the road waiting for the bike mechanic...and thought I was done. And realized that I really wanted to continue. So the bike guys get there. Compliment my bike choice. And in 2 minutes...my bike was fixed. When he held up my bike and said "there you go" I was shocked. I think my eyes bugged out of my head. My day wasn't over! Yet. So I continued on.
Not long after that...I realized that all of my mechanical problems were not over yet. I was having some major problems switching from the small ring to the big ring. Awesome. This makes going down hill REALLY fun. But I was still working with it. I had taken a couple of rest breaks...which helped my muscles relax...but it got the the point where taking a break wasn't giving me any relief from the pain. I had a nice little cry. It was actually a very emotional time for me. I didn't want to quit...but I was in so much pain I just didn't see how I could continue. Once I made the turn off of 421...and saw the sign for mile 30...and I nearly cried. I'd made it over half way through the bike leg. But the further I got...the more pain I was in. Oh...and I got passed by the sweep vehicle. That's not a very comforting thing. When it came to the turn where the half course splits from the full course. I turned into a parking lot and I broke down. Hard core. One of the Sag vehicles pulled in with me...and they tried to comfort me...and get me to eat and drink (which I knew wasn't the problem). And I was done. Just done. After a few minutes...we all got in the truck and headed back to the battleship.
I found my dad. Saw Ed. Cried some more. Ed told me not to give up...and when I told him it only made me want to work harder...that earned me a fist bump. I definitely needed a shower...because I was a little crusty all over. We decided to head back to the hotel. And I never made it back to cheer...because I passed out. Hard core. No joke. 2 days later...and I've slept a total of 19 hours since then. And I've even gone running. And aquaphored the appropriate places. And survived the long road trip home...including a stop at an awesome BBQ place. Let's just say Ralph knows how to make good BBQ.
So it's definitely going to be a long year. But I'm not going to give up just yet. :)
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Race Jitters and Such...
Stupid athlete guide. If I hadn't found it while cleaning Friday evening...and then thought it was a good idea to look through it yesterday morning...I wouldn't be in the predicament that I'm in now.
Ok...so I would still be freaking out about the race...but since the athlete guide is what really set me off...I'm blaming that. Oh...if only I hadn't thought that it was a good idea to plan ahead and figure out what I'd need for next weekend.
Next weekend. And I say this with the most sincerity imaginable. Hooooo....lleeee.....shit.
What was I thinking? How could attempting to cross 70.3 miles in one day while swimming, biking, and running be a good idea. 4 months after surgery no less. Less than 2 months since I stopped traveling about the country for work.
This is a bad idea...and I'm an idiot. What kind of nerve do I have thinking that *I* could *possibly* be able to do this.
I've come to terms with the fact that realistically I really may not be able to finish. I did just have to start over working out 3 and a half months ago. And for 2 months after that, I didn't get to focus on working out like I should have been.
Never mind the fact that last weekend I ran 12 miles and spent 3 hours on my bike. Never mind the fact that I've had a couple (yes...only a couple) of good swim work outs. Never mind the fact that I've actually been able to tell a difference in my strength, and how some of my workouts are actually feeling good instead of making me feel like I'm dieing. Never mind the fact that all of the previous statements about my inability to do this goes through my head BEFORE EVERY FREAKING RACE!!
In the logical part of my mind, I see what's going on...I think. As I said, I have come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to finish all 70.3 miles. I'm going to get as far as I possibly can...and know that everything from this point forward is all getting me through next November.
The race jitters are something completely different. The race jitters don't make me think that I won't be able to finish. The race jitters make me think I won't be able to start. And I've specifically narrowed it down to where the problem lies. The bike. At least...that's what it's been for every triathlon I've ever come up to. Except maybe the race where I relayed and only did the bike. For some reason...I don't remember being very nervous before that. Huh.
Anyway...not the point. Right now...I'm looking at my new bike. He's gorgeous...and now that the fit is better...I'm sure it will be more comfortable. Especially now that my saddle isn't all wonky. But there's something about the bike leg in general that makes me freak out. But there's something about getting on the bike that just makes me ridiculously nervous...to the point where I don't want to go for a bike ride. And I have no clue why. Yes...I've crashed. But so have a lot of other people that get back in the saddle immediately. One way or another...over the next year...Cedric and I are going to have to come to terms. Somehow...we're going to need to figure out what the problem is...and fix it.
It very well could be that I'm just not comfortable because I haven't spend enough time actually riding. Which is very possible. Unfortunately...I live in the middle of DC...which makes me not want to ride because I value my life. And the traffic here scares the shit out of me even when I'm in a car. Let alone, out there for the world to slam into me and make me go flying.
During my bike fit on Wednesday...Ken told me that he wanted me to leave being absolutely comfortable on my bike. I didn't want to go into detail...but the thought crossed my mind that if he could really make me comfortable on my bike...I'd probably love him forever. And I'm not just talking about how he fixed my saddle fit my "stupendously long legs." Something makes me think I'm not there yet. Maybe when my new stem comes in.
And now that it's cold outside...that makes me want to go for a ride even less.
I hate being cold. I dealt with marathon training last year in the cold because marathon training on a treadmill would have killed me. And this year...I'm buying different clothes. Something that will not only keep me warm...but also block out the wind. That should help. But really...when it's cold outside, I want to curl up next to a fire with a cup of hot chocolate and read a book.
And preferably...I would like it to be that cold exactly once a year so I can get it out of my system...and then it can go back to 70 degree weather. Thankyouverymuch.
For all intents and purposes...I should hate swimming. I suck at swimming. No really, I do. I'm ridiculously slow, and every time I race...everything I have learned about form goes completely out the window...and I just try to survive any way possible. But I don't. I don't enjoy swimming when I'm tired...because I feel even more sluggish...so most days when I've had a long day at work...and I'm already really tired...I skip the pool. But I am committed to not stopping swimming all together this year over the winter like I did last year. I had gotten so much better by the end of the season last year...and then...again...had to start over. And I really don't hate swimming. It actually relaxes me in most cases. I think over the next year...as long as I keep up going to the pool...I'll be fine.
But now...back to the issue at hand. In the past...before every race that I've been this nervous...I've successfully crossed the finish line. And I've actually crossed in a rather ok form. But knowing that...still isn't going to help me this week. I foresee a long week...where I might be a little cranky...and will eventually be unable to pack. Part of me wants to hide in my apartment and not go anywhere or do anything. But I do know that that will do nothing for my race jitters, and the depression that will set in if I don't leave. Besides...I have to get out and go to work. And I am forcing myself to get out. I have to...or I will continue to go crazy.
One last thought before I completely kick myself in the ass and get going with my day (which actually started several hours ago). It's about the races where I haven't been nervous before...or just didn't really care about. Savageman last year...I thought "no big deal" before. And got my ass kicked hard. Giant Acorn this year...well...I haven't talked much about that...and my inability to finish that race. Part of me remembers that I was there to have fun...and finishing wouldn't have been fun. Part of me beats myself up thinking about how I quit. So...therefore...I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it. I probably should...but that is definitely for another time.
Ok...so I would still be freaking out about the race...but since the athlete guide is what really set me off...I'm blaming that. Oh...if only I hadn't thought that it was a good idea to plan ahead and figure out what I'd need for next weekend.
Next weekend. And I say this with the most sincerity imaginable. Hooooo....lleeee.....shit.
What was I thinking? How could attempting to cross 70.3 miles in one day while swimming, biking, and running be a good idea. 4 months after surgery no less. Less than 2 months since I stopped traveling about the country for work.
This is a bad idea...and I'm an idiot. What kind of nerve do I have thinking that *I* could *possibly* be able to do this.
I've come to terms with the fact that realistically I really may not be able to finish. I did just have to start over working out 3 and a half months ago. And for 2 months after that, I didn't get to focus on working out like I should have been.
Never mind the fact that last weekend I ran 12 miles and spent 3 hours on my bike. Never mind the fact that I've had a couple (yes...only a couple) of good swim work outs. Never mind the fact that I've actually been able to tell a difference in my strength, and how some of my workouts are actually feeling good instead of making me feel like I'm dieing. Never mind the fact that all of the previous statements about my inability to do this goes through my head BEFORE EVERY FREAKING RACE!!
In the logical part of my mind, I see what's going on...I think. As I said, I have come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to finish all 70.3 miles. I'm going to get as far as I possibly can...and know that everything from this point forward is all getting me through next November.
The race jitters are something completely different. The race jitters don't make me think that I won't be able to finish. The race jitters make me think I won't be able to start. And I've specifically narrowed it down to where the problem lies. The bike. At least...that's what it's been for every triathlon I've ever come up to. Except maybe the race where I relayed and only did the bike. For some reason...I don't remember being very nervous before that. Huh.
Anyway...not the point. Right now...I'm looking at my new bike. He's gorgeous...and now that the fit is better...I'm sure it will be more comfortable. Especially now that my saddle isn't all wonky. But there's something about the bike leg in general that makes me freak out. But there's something about getting on the bike that just makes me ridiculously nervous...to the point where I don't want to go for a bike ride. And I have no clue why. Yes...I've crashed. But so have a lot of other people that get back in the saddle immediately. One way or another...over the next year...Cedric and I are going to have to come to terms. Somehow...we're going to need to figure out what the problem is...and fix it.
It very well could be that I'm just not comfortable because I haven't spend enough time actually riding. Which is very possible. Unfortunately...I live in the middle of DC...which makes me not want to ride because I value my life. And the traffic here scares the shit out of me even when I'm in a car. Let alone, out there for the world to slam into me and make me go flying.
During my bike fit on Wednesday...Ken told me that he wanted me to leave being absolutely comfortable on my bike. I didn't want to go into detail...but the thought crossed my mind that if he could really make me comfortable on my bike...I'd probably love him forever. And I'm not just talking about how he fixed my saddle fit my "stupendously long legs." Something makes me think I'm not there yet. Maybe when my new stem comes in.
And now that it's cold outside...that makes me want to go for a ride even less.
I hate being cold. I dealt with marathon training last year in the cold because marathon training on a treadmill would have killed me. And this year...I'm buying different clothes. Something that will not only keep me warm...but also block out the wind. That should help. But really...when it's cold outside, I want to curl up next to a fire with a cup of hot chocolate and read a book.
And preferably...I would like it to be that cold exactly once a year so I can get it out of my system...and then it can go back to 70 degree weather. Thankyouverymuch.
For all intents and purposes...I should hate swimming. I suck at swimming. No really, I do. I'm ridiculously slow, and every time I race...everything I have learned about form goes completely out the window...and I just try to survive any way possible. But I don't. I don't enjoy swimming when I'm tired...because I feel even more sluggish...so most days when I've had a long day at work...and I'm already really tired...I skip the pool. But I am committed to not stopping swimming all together this year over the winter like I did last year. I had gotten so much better by the end of the season last year...and then...again...had to start over. And I really don't hate swimming. It actually relaxes me in most cases. I think over the next year...as long as I keep up going to the pool...I'll be fine.
But now...back to the issue at hand. In the past...before every race that I've been this nervous...I've successfully crossed the finish line. And I've actually crossed in a rather ok form. But knowing that...still isn't going to help me this week. I foresee a long week...where I might be a little cranky...and will eventually be unable to pack. Part of me wants to hide in my apartment and not go anywhere or do anything. But I do know that that will do nothing for my race jitters, and the depression that will set in if I don't leave. Besides...I have to get out and go to work. And I am forcing myself to get out. I have to...or I will continue to go crazy.
One last thought before I completely kick myself in the ass and get going with my day (which actually started several hours ago). It's about the races where I haven't been nervous before...or just didn't really care about. Savageman last year...I thought "no big deal" before. And got my ass kicked hard. Giant Acorn this year...well...I haven't talked much about that...and my inability to finish that race. Part of me remembers that I was there to have fun...and finishing wouldn't have been fun. Part of me beats myself up thinking about how I quit. So...therefore...I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it. I probably should...but that is definitely for another time.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Something weird is going on.
I've finally been living at home for a few weeks in a row...with no travel plans in sight...unless you count that one little race in a few weeks...or that one holiday that comes toward the end of the year. You know...the one with all of the presents...that makes my mom's house look like it should dress the pages of Good Housekeeping.
That's not the weird part.
When I finally started living here again, I knew that I would have a lot of training to do. And I knew that I needed to have a slightly different approach if I really wanted to be as successful as I am hoping to be.
So...I started waking up early in the morning...the alarm has been going off at a stunning 4:15am on weekdays. In theory, this is so I can fit one workout in before work, and one in after work. For the first couple of weeks, I thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. I just could not get motivated to work out in the morning. I was able to get in a couple of strength sessions in the morning...but that was it. But I would still stick with getting up that early. My hope was that if I kept up with that, eventually, I'd be able to get motivated to work out.
Well...something weird, very weird, happened last Wednesday. My alarm went off, and my eyes sprung open...and I nearly hopped out of bed. I was able to run, AND do strength training in the morning...and still get to work early. And I was bouncing off the walls.
Surely...this couldn't last. Right?
No seriously...this can't last. I can't actually be...perky...in the morning. No. No. No. I refuse to be perky. At least not in the morning.
But it's happening. I was tired on Thursday morning...but I worked out. And other than bonking on Saturday during my 10 mile run, which I admit was purely out of stupidity on my part...work outs have been going really well. Like, exceptionally well.
And I've been waking up in the morning and working out on a consistent basis. Not including last Friday which is rest day...I'm on a role of 5 days. Totally unprecedented in the world of Johanna.
So things are definitely going well here. Work has been ridiculously busy...but in a good way...I think. And I've come to terms with Beach2Battleship. I'm going to have the most awesome Sherpa ever...my dad...and I'm going to try to do as much as I can. I woke up in a panic the other night worried about the swim...but I had a good swim last night, and I'm feeling better. I still don't think I'll actually be able to finish the entire race...but I am hoping to at least finish the swim and bike. Everything is looking toward next November.
Oh...and did I mention once I moved home I cut back on caffeine too? Yeah...I am attempting to keep myself to 1 cup of coffee a day. I figured if I was jumping off a cliff in an attempt to take care of myself...I might as well do it right. It's been an adjustment...but I'm surviving.
I just can't believe how much energy I've been feeling lately...especially in the morning. I've NEVER been one to work out in the morning...but I think that's changing. All for the better.
That's not the weird part.
When I finally started living here again, I knew that I would have a lot of training to do. And I knew that I needed to have a slightly different approach if I really wanted to be as successful as I am hoping to be.
So...I started waking up early in the morning...the alarm has been going off at a stunning 4:15am on weekdays. In theory, this is so I can fit one workout in before work, and one in after work. For the first couple of weeks, I thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. I just could not get motivated to work out in the morning. I was able to get in a couple of strength sessions in the morning...but that was it. But I would still stick with getting up that early. My hope was that if I kept up with that, eventually, I'd be able to get motivated to work out.
Well...something weird, very weird, happened last Wednesday. My alarm went off, and my eyes sprung open...and I nearly hopped out of bed. I was able to run, AND do strength training in the morning...and still get to work early. And I was bouncing off the walls.
Surely...this couldn't last. Right?
No seriously...this can't last. I can't actually be...perky...in the morning. No. No. No. I refuse to be perky. At least not in the morning.
But it's happening. I was tired on Thursday morning...but I worked out. And other than bonking on Saturday during my 10 mile run, which I admit was purely out of stupidity on my part...work outs have been going really well. Like, exceptionally well.
And I've been waking up in the morning and working out on a consistent basis. Not including last Friday which is rest day...I'm on a role of 5 days. Totally unprecedented in the world of Johanna.
So things are definitely going well here. Work has been ridiculously busy...but in a good way...I think. And I've come to terms with Beach2Battleship. I'm going to have the most awesome Sherpa ever...my dad...and I'm going to try to do as much as I can. I woke up in a panic the other night worried about the swim...but I had a good swim last night, and I'm feeling better. I still don't think I'll actually be able to finish the entire race...but I am hoping to at least finish the swim and bike. Everything is looking toward next November.
Oh...and did I mention once I moved home I cut back on caffeine too? Yeah...I am attempting to keep myself to 1 cup of coffee a day. I figured if I was jumping off a cliff in an attempt to take care of myself...I might as well do it right. It's been an adjustment...but I'm surviving.
I just can't believe how much energy I've been feeling lately...especially in the morning. I've NEVER been one to work out in the morning...but I think that's changing. All for the better.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Holy $#!% I said it!
The phrase "I'm training for an Ironman" actually came out of my mouth yesterday.
I know it's over a year away, but I feel like the training efforts I'm putting in right now is all leading up to racing IM Arizona next November. I have a lot of work to do between now and then...and I'm hoping getting an early start is going to help me not die during the race next year.
And I'm not actually talking about really dieing...I'm talking about bonking. Not feeling like moving forward anymore. Or not being able to move forward anymore.
I want to be able to get more workouts in. This...on top of all of my other goals this year. To really be able to fit all of the workouts in, I need to get up early in the morning, and get a workout in before work. I tried this past week...and I got up...but there were a couple of mornings where I just couldn't motivate myself in enough time to work out. I did a couple of strength workouts...but that's it. I need to do more. I've never been one to work out in the morning. I've never been able to keep it up...mainly because I like being awake while I work out.
So, in that effort...I'm going to do what I normally do when I need some accountability. I'm going to write it down.
Today...I ran 8 miles in 1:41. That's a little longer than I used to be able to do it, but I'm hoping to speed things back up. I did get a speed run in this week, and I still don't like doing them, but I know that it's helpful in running faster.
The other part of this is that I need to lose some weight. I know how to do this. Clearly, I've done it in the past. But it's not easy. I've also had a weakness for food for, well, forever. I made a decision last night that I'm going to take a break from Peanut Butter. Not an easy thing for me to do. I love peanut butter. I love it a little too much. It's a hot button food for me, and one that I can't stop eating.
And the third piece of this is that I'm buying a new bike. I'm actually going shopping after I finish this. I'm not positive...but I think I'm going to switch from my tri bike, that I've never really been comfortable riding, to a road bike that I'm quite sure will have better control. A few months ago when I went window shopping, I was foolishly talked out of even riding a road bike. Well, I'm not going to let that happen again. So I'm going to look, but we'll see how that goes. I'm also looking for a bike that I can just ride around the city, that isn't my race bike. This, I'm hoping will get me more comfortable on a bike in general, and therefore more willing to spend more time training.
So...there it is. It starts now.
I know it's over a year away, but I feel like the training efforts I'm putting in right now is all leading up to racing IM Arizona next November. I have a lot of work to do between now and then...and I'm hoping getting an early start is going to help me not die during the race next year.
And I'm not actually talking about really dieing...I'm talking about bonking. Not feeling like moving forward anymore. Or not being able to move forward anymore.
I want to be able to get more workouts in. This...on top of all of my other goals this year. To really be able to fit all of the workouts in, I need to get up early in the morning, and get a workout in before work. I tried this past week...and I got up...but there were a couple of mornings where I just couldn't motivate myself in enough time to work out. I did a couple of strength workouts...but that's it. I need to do more. I've never been one to work out in the morning. I've never been able to keep it up...mainly because I like being awake while I work out.
So, in that effort...I'm going to do what I normally do when I need some accountability. I'm going to write it down.
Today...I ran 8 miles in 1:41. That's a little longer than I used to be able to do it, but I'm hoping to speed things back up. I did get a speed run in this week, and I still don't like doing them, but I know that it's helpful in running faster.
The other part of this is that I need to lose some weight. I know how to do this. Clearly, I've done it in the past. But it's not easy. I've also had a weakness for food for, well, forever. I made a decision last night that I'm going to take a break from Peanut Butter. Not an easy thing for me to do. I love peanut butter. I love it a little too much. It's a hot button food for me, and one that I can't stop eating.
And the third piece of this is that I'm buying a new bike. I'm actually going shopping after I finish this. I'm not positive...but I think I'm going to switch from my tri bike, that I've never really been comfortable riding, to a road bike that I'm quite sure will have better control. A few months ago when I went window shopping, I was foolishly talked out of even riding a road bike. Well, I'm not going to let that happen again. So I'm going to look, but we'll see how that goes. I'm also looking for a bike that I can just ride around the city, that isn't my race bike. This, I'm hoping will get me more comfortable on a bike in general, and therefore more willing to spend more time training.
So...there it is. It starts now.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Birthday Celebrations, or Lack Thereof
Well, it's almost my birthday. Birthday's were always a big deal for our family growing up. We always had a big family dinner with lots of presents. And this wasn't just for the kids...it was for everyone. Birthday's had always been a big deal for my mom's family growing up, and she made a big deal for the kids too.
9 years ago, on my birthday, something happened that changed that day for...well...forever. It's something that I have grown to not want to talk about. Maybe it's less that I don't want to talk about it...it's more that I don't want the look of pity that always follows when I tell someone about it.
My grandparents had been sick for a long time...years. And on my 20th birthday my Grandma died. I will never forget the look on my mom's face when she walked in the door of my college apartment to tell me.
The following year, we had a celebration...a huge family party. We tried to make it a good day. But since then, it's been really hard. It's especially been hard on my mom. It was her mom that died...and I know she misses her. I miss her too.
Part of me feels selfish and guilty for saying this...but...I want my day back. I don't ever want to forget my Grandma. I just don't want her death forever associated with my birthday.
I am not normally a person who makes a huge deal out of holidays...except Christmas and my birthday. Christmas is obvious...and my birthday started when I was young. That was always the one day that was mine. We all had to eat what I wanted. I got the type of cake I wanted. People gave me presents. It was a good day for me. And maybe as an adult...less focus should be put on things like that. But I'm tired of the two things now being intertwined.
My friends have been great about celebrating my birthday. But the one phone call that day that should be so wonderful...the call from my mom...the woman who gave birth to me has forever been changed. She hasn't been able to get through a birthday phone call with me without crying...and more often then not, that conversation has turned into an argument.
So...I want my day back. I want that to be a good day. I can't change what happened. But I want my day back.
9 years ago, on my birthday, something happened that changed that day for...well...forever. It's something that I have grown to not want to talk about. Maybe it's less that I don't want to talk about it...it's more that I don't want the look of pity that always follows when I tell someone about it.
My grandparents had been sick for a long time...years. And on my 20th birthday my Grandma died. I will never forget the look on my mom's face when she walked in the door of my college apartment to tell me.
The following year, we had a celebration...a huge family party. We tried to make it a good day. But since then, it's been really hard. It's especially been hard on my mom. It was her mom that died...and I know she misses her. I miss her too.
Part of me feels selfish and guilty for saying this...but...I want my day back. I don't ever want to forget my Grandma. I just don't want her death forever associated with my birthday.
I am not normally a person who makes a huge deal out of holidays...except Christmas and my birthday. Christmas is obvious...and my birthday started when I was young. That was always the one day that was mine. We all had to eat what I wanted. I got the type of cake I wanted. People gave me presents. It was a good day for me. And maybe as an adult...less focus should be put on things like that. But I'm tired of the two things now being intertwined.
My friends have been great about celebrating my birthday. But the one phone call that day that should be so wonderful...the call from my mom...the woman who gave birth to me has forever been changed. She hasn't been able to get through a birthday phone call with me without crying...and more often then not, that conversation has turned into an argument.
So...I want my day back. I want that to be a good day. I can't change what happened. But I want my day back.
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